Showing posts from 2019


Joe didn’t like cross country flights. Too much time to think, too much time to remember. The promises he once believed in. The long years in the trenches of business. His star rising in the early years with sales success and management positions. Only to fall back again with business downturns, changed ownership and the myriad of other things that happen in the life of a company man. 
It seemed like age happened overnight, the gains and unfolding of problems. You kept putting all the pieces back in order. Now there were just the large accounts he managed to keep through the years. Holding on to them kept you from the door out. He could go on for ever. It was simpler to rub his face with his hand in acceptance of it all. Besides he needed to rescue a client. One with business problems who owed money. 
He remembered many trips back East to NYC, Boston and DC adding major business for the firm. Now he headed for dirty Newark and the remains of this client.
The airport shuttle dropped h…

CREATIVITY (from the art of Business Series)

How often have you wanted to do some art, only to get frustrated by the effort? Don’t give up. There are solid business benefits to practicing art.
In business, we are constantly trying to put things in an analytical, logical and well-defined boxes. Ones we can understand, monitor and control. The world though is much different place. One that is dynamic and ever changing. Everything is happening at once challenging all of our mental and physical resources. As Albert Camus (Nobel Laureate) once said, “We may live to reason, but we do so in an unreasonable world.”
In the real world, our ability to be creative is often more needed than our analytical ability. Driving a car is a good example. You can’t drive just using analysis, things are moving too quickly. Analysis takes too long. It’s impossible to calculate the exact distance between us and cars moving in all directions. We have to make use of our intuition, conceptualization, spacial, perceptual and global skills to make the right…

THE FILE (from the art of business series)

The great digital age we live in affords wondrous opportunities and efficiencies. My doctor can pull up all my medical history, tests, treatments and RX’s on his laptop. Providing the foundation, he needs to prescribe a path for healing. He can do this from any place in the world with the flick of a few keys. 
It’s nothing short of art the way my doctor uses digital records. Applying his reason, judgement and ownership to the process. His experience, talent and time the additional ingredients. 
Unfortunately, these key elements are often missing in the mainstream of business today. This same digital age can produce information to push us through the system, to categorize us, to control us with only the thought of process in mind. 
It has birthed the faceless, stage named,customer service representative who only does the pushing and owns no part of the process, let alone the client base. It has spawned the ditto world we live in. Often the jobs are uninspiring especially for the well-…


You could almost hear the band warming up from the highway near by. The random blurts of the horn, the rhythmic strobing of strings drawing it back into play, the notes sounded one at time by the piano player and a few notes of music from the singer. All sounds played out from a small town just over the Nevada border between LA and Las Vegas. 
A forgotten place except for becoming a Mecca for sun seeking seniors. Just a couple of casinos, a small downtown area and lots of desert style homes. The music emulated from the one great place to eat, Vince’s. Nestled against a picturesque cliff surrounded by palm trees, it looked very bit the part of an oasis. The long-standing owner whose name graced the place spared no effort in making it a true fine dinning experience. One he ruled with standards and routines he would not bend. It attracted a loyal following among locals and the wise traveler who knew about…

THE PROMISE OF STANDISH (a desert tale) - Original Music by Michelle Murphy

Many roads lead to the high desert of Nevada. Route 395, a favorite of mine, first cuts through the picturesque Eastern Oregon Country then into a small corner of California before releasing you to the vast vistas of Nevada.
The long drive leaves you anxious for any road that looks like a short cut. Standish at the intersection of 395 and route 139 appears on the map like it might have that promise. A small road in the middle of the town turned you directly South into Nevada avoiding the junction traffic a few miles to the west. It never really saved much time, but the promise was there.
I learned over time that Standish had a story, a story of a larger promise. A spec of a place now with a population of 85. In once flourished in 1897, billed as the new Utopia of the West by the Associated Colonies of New York led by Miles Standish. The town by his namesake was one of two to be built on a European model for Utopia. Where the people would leave the town each day to work collectively i…


Henry David Thoreau once said, “Not until we are lost, do we begin to understand ourselves.”
When you are lost though, it can be difficult to find the “Lost and Found” department for people.
There are many ways you can find yourself lost. Too many problems and failures in the rear-view mirror of life, loss of love, no one to reach out to, being stuck in a remote place, shoved aside by society and loosing the strength to risk. All these and many more can leave you frozen in time, unable to take advantage of opportunities or new relationships, even if they pass by you everyday.
The world is a dynamic and wonderful place. Most of us recover from being lost. We gain a new spirituality, find internal peace with what has passed, meet a special person, rediscover our dreams or finally risk finding that new opportunity. The time lost gives us space we need to gather our resources and venture again.
For some, it’s a much longer journey than others. They find only darkness in the world. Even f…


Breaker Boxes
There are never any small accidents on the circuit. It’s always show time with flashes and smoke. It's one thing to create the power, but it is the meter that makes the money and the breaker that saves the day. They stand silently doing their work, gathering the art of the street over time...
David Young


Steven stopped long enough to open some cat food for Oliver. It just sat there, its head in the air.  “Your just an ordinary cat, eat the food,” Steven said with frustration. Oliver took a few bites and then poutingly moved back to his corner. Turning toward his computer and work, Steven could still see the dent on the wall where Sarah smashed the vase, remembering seeing all the pieces on the floor.  That night still haunted him. Sarah’s angry words echoed one by one. “I’m leaving you. You don’t care anymore. I’ve just been a pretty vase on the mantle to you.  Now even that’s broken. You never spend any time with me. You just work, work, work. And what for, just some stupid ambition. To have more words on your business card. You cold ass hole.” Her bags were all packed. Dragging them to the door she turned and said, “I don’t know what attracted me to you. I thought you would change. That there was some softness there. When we found Oliver and brought him home, I hoped Maybe that wou…


I am certainly not a great painter. I do surprise myself sometimes with a decent painting or two. My immediate reaction is to go out to buy new paint and brushes. Surely, they will lead to even grander art work. The “New” does not always get you to your goals.
It is often the experimentation and creativity that springs from having to use the resources around you, limited as they might be. The left overs of your trade.
Jean-Francois Chaigneau’s book “In the Studio” drives this point home. He cataloged photographs of great artists like Braque, Picasso and Chagall at work in their studios. All about them, in their often primitive looking studios, were scatter well-worn brushes and tubes of old paint. The faces of the artists show the angst and passion as they created new work using old art tools.
I once took classes from the artist Allen Reamer. He always began his classes having students make color charts. Ones that laboriously combined first the primary colors then renditions of these…


The wonderful gift of discovering a bookstore full of old books. All out of order and in boxes. Tales, art, philosophy and poetry. All old friends found again....


It was just a simple house On Johnson Street  Up from the rail road tracks. Just me and my spouse now.
I guess it was the outskirts. We both worked hard and Sat on the porch every evening.
Taking stock of the day. The two chairs near the door For the youngsters now gone.
Our chairs near the steps. At least we could ask  Why and where when they left.
We left one chair open For neighbors stopping by To share a beer or glass of Jack when we had it.
We could hear the trains going by. The creaking of the rails from the weight Of freight for the city.
We knew about that weight. We carried it on our backs And sweated each pound earned.
The young ones now gone. Off to school and their own lives. The long hours of work still here with us.
Some would say we never really won. We owned the house though and Sat on the porch and thought well done.
young ‘19

STOCKS, A Cautionary Note

The stock market is a great wealth builder. Still during volatile times, I am always reminded of what a professor (Dr. Wish) once cautioned me about stocks, “It’s important to know what stocks are and what they are not.”
He spent long school hours talking about how the market can drive speculation and that can move stocks beyond their original purpose and value.
What Stocks Are The concept of selling shares in ventures dates back to Roman times. These early investments dealt with specific ventures, usually voyages to far off lands. The investors agreed upon the purpose of the voyage. Each investor would get a share of the riches brought back. If the voyage failed, they would get nothing. 
It was not until the Dutch East India Company of 1602 that investors were attracted to taking risks in on-going ventures versus a specific one. The Dutch were the first to create what amounts to the stock market today.
Today, the concept is much the same. Stock shares are issued by companies to raise…


The Mall,  Tall on my mind.
I want to spend, But in the end.
The same Mall, Blanks down the hall.
The same, In the City of Same.
The Mall, Not tall on my mind.
Home alone again. The Mall, tall on my mind.
young ‘19




You can never deny the lure of a desert road. They beckon you with far off horizons. If you pass them by, they will haunt your soul. If you take them, they free it. Taking your mind and senses to places within you did not know. 
Some go for ever, joining other desert roads. Some simply disappear first from hardened road to gravel to dirt to the desert floor. Often there you will find a dream left by someone, tended only now by the desert at the end of the road….
David Young  


Grays Harbor, WA

ME COOL (A Fast Food Tale)

ME COOL (A Fast Food Tale)
See the Big M, Blue Shirt, MANAGER!
Me cool, You a fool.
Being Late Puts us off our gaite.
Me cool, You a fool.
So, tell me why, Don’t just sit there and cry.
“I’m not a fool. Just trying. Two jobs, two kids, no sleep. I didn’t mean to break the rule.”
Well, OK, this time. But, don’t let it rhyme.
Me cool not cruel. Maybe you not a fool.
Hey, take another minute. Let me tell you my story. And all its glory.
How I became, Me cool…
young ‘18


“Jonesville Jam” - Jonesville SC


Top of The Tunnel Bar, 601 Bush St. San Francisco, sits on top of the Stockton Tunnel. The Tunnel takes cars from Nob Hill, near China Town, under Bush St. to Union Square. The bar has been long favored as an after work watering hole that attracts both locals and visitors....

David Young




I always cleaned my desk off on Friday. Hoping they would say I did a good job.
I guess they did, because on Monday they  Always brought new files and folders. All filled with problems no one wanted.
I had been with the company so long.  I no longer remembered all the changes. Just how to solve the problems, That happened every day.
It became my portfolio.  The cases no one wanted. Others who sought only easy ones, Always quickly gone with the downturns.
I still had my work though. My chair, my desk and dignity. When there was a problem, They still knew my name.
David Young