Keeping Up With The Joneses

Keeping up with the Joneses should be tattooed somewhere on my body.

I’ve chased the rest of the world almost my entire life. When I was young I wanted the clothes everyone else had. In my teens I wanted the acceptance that everyone else seemed to have. In my twenties I wanted the family everyone else had. And finally, in my thirties I chase Sports Illustrated, Rolling Stone, Time and the like. Not from a circulation standpoint, more from a company layout and company design standpoint.

I wonder why my wanting to be like everyone else never clicked. I’m clearly my own person. I follow only the rules that I’ve set for myself. I haven’t been able to fall in line enough to be like everyone else. I own their clothes. They all seem to accept me. I have the family I always wanted. I look like everyone else, but I don’t think like them. If I thought the way they do, there would be no Foster Focus. And yet, I can’t help chasing them.

It stems from growing up in a town where you could easily tell who had the money. Money itself has never been important to me. I want the respect and ease of life that it comes with. That’s why I chase. The people in town with money seemed happier, more content, less terrified. I watched those in my class bracket (lower/middle class) go hand to mouth and check to check. It’s well documented that this is where my budgeting and spending problems come from.

Right before foster care I impersonated someone better than myself and snuck onto the roster of a private catholic school in a town near mine. I was finally where I thought I was supposed to be. I could fake it enough to get through those four years and get myself in with one of my friends’ parents’ companies right out of the box. I hated school; I had no interest in college.

I spent all my time with my new classmates. Their houses were new! No mildew, no holes in the walls, no old carpets, everything was fresh. I watched them pull all sorts of exotic foods from stainless steel refrigerators bursting with more food than I could imagine. Were they feeding armies? Where were they hiding these armies? Would the soldiers be upset if I ate some of their rations?!?!? It was all so exciting and far from what I was accustomed to.

When I slept at their houses, I had my own cover and pillow. They had extras! My friends had the easiest chores on the planet and they still complained. I would walk door to door every snow storm offering my tiny armed snow removal services all day to gain twenty dollars and all my friends just needed to take out the trash once to get the same payday. (I know what you’re thinking…”You earned it.” “That builds character.” “You wouldn’t be who you are without that.” All due respect, I’d have taken the money over the lesson every damn day of the week.)

I went into care before I could see the dark side of that life but the images of the freshness and relaxed atmosphere are forever embedded in my brain. So I strive. I work three times harder than everyone else in the room. I waste money on nice clothes, books, big screen TVs and DVDs like the ones I remember. (Movies hold an extra significance to me but we’ll get into that another time.) I justify the money I waste by the fact that I take care of my family and the magazine is still alive. Terrible reasoning, I know it.

I also take that chasing the Joneses mentality and funnel it into the work of improving the magazine.

I’m surrounded by magazines in this office. Not just the ones I create. (I shared my hoarding tendencies a few months ago.)  Constant streams of beautiful glossy creations come through my mailbox on a weekly basis. (I don’t have daily mag money; I spent that on a really good computer.) I love when they come in. I love seeing what the design geniuses all across the country come up with. They are much, much better than me. But I’m working my tail off to catch up.

My newest idea to improve the magazine involves making the font size just a hair smaller. Doesn’t seem like a big change but it will look cleaner and writers may need to write a few more paragraphs. More pictures, new logos and a little more sleekness are also on the horizon. I’ll catch those damn Joneses if it kills me. Count on it.

Okay, I can’t stand it anymore. I have to talk about the amazing trip I just returned from, then we’ll handle a little bit of housekeeping before I send you off to read the rest of this great issue I’ve been lucky enough to be in charge of.

Last year I drove the famed Pacific Coast Highway. I gleefully took all the turns that hugged the majestic California coastline.

It was amazing. This time around I decided to finish the job by taking the Redwood Highway through Oregon all the way to Seattle. I had a bunch of reasons to be there but I was out of mind excited for the route that my wife (travel agent) put together for me.

Let’s talk about why I was there before I tell you about the sights.

I have long struggled at a few things but the most pressing has been my inability to put together a sales staff, both advertising and subscriptions, consisting of all individuals who were in foster care. Those are the people I want to share whatever money the magazine generates (after the printer gets paid, of course), feels like the right thing to do, so I headed to the Great Northwest to seek the help of Celeste Bodner and her group, FosterClub.

You see, way back in 1999 (around the time I was aging out) Celeste saw a need and she filled that need with FosterClub. You know how I like people that put in the work. FosterClub created this amazing network of current and former foster kids all around the country. They intern, they learn skills, they hangout with government higher ups and the list goes on. They’re a good outfit. I wanted to work with them. I’ve known Celeste since the magazine started and I trust her. When I decided it was time to start paying foster kids; FosterClub seemed like the logical place to go.

I told Celeste and the team my idea and they made it better. I’ll tell you more soon. They also gave me a few leads on my quest for more help with the Social Worker and Foster Parent Hotlines. It’s ready, it’s coming, just need a few more volunteers to take the weight off of my shoulder. Soon.

There’s also a talented young alum who went through the FosterClub ranks who I think will be awesome at selling ads. Be ready to learn more about him and maybe even get a phone call from the phenom in wait.

While I was in the area, the good folks from Bridge Meadows in Portland had me over for a meet and greet. My stance on public speaking hasn’t changed; I don’t seek it out, but if you ask me I’ll come. Bridge Meadows is a multi-generational foster care community and is the only one in a major city. Pretty cool stuff. They wanted to meet me and I wanted to see the place for myself. I’ll tell you more about them in a later issue. They were so nice to me and it was a great addition to the trip.

Before I end I want to take a paragraph to talk about the trip itself. Rarely do I take any time to look around when I’m on task. I’m a “blinders on” kind of guy when I have work to do. It’s the reason I do so well but it’s short changing myself and I made a promise to myself to slow down and see some sights. I’m glad I did. The Pacific coast is pretty darn amazing. I saw movie sites that I’d always wanted to see first-hand. I visited both the childhood and final homes of one of my teenage idols, Kurt Cobain. There were elk and waterfalls. There were trees wider than the house I grew up in.

There was a lot of alone time on those redwood lined highways.

I generally don’t fare too well when I’m alone. I get lost in this ridiculous mind of mine. It’s no good. But I think I’m in a place now where I see I have a family that loves me, a magazine that’s doing well and my mental state has been fairly steady for a decade now (little stuff here and there but nothing to worry about) which is a great relief. I’m in a good place. The solitude didn’t suffocate me as it has in the past. I mention that for the same reason I always bring up my mental health issues; some kid could read this, he/she needs to know that it may not go away completely but you can manage your issues.

Well, that’s my spiel for this issue of the mag. I stole Dr. Gopal’s column this issue. She won’t mind she’s pretty busy, besides I had to share a cute email I received from a future business leader that needed addressed. Enjoy the issue!