Prepping in NYC

(Wall Street Financial District, NYC)
Working on the road is no big deal.
Working on vacation is more common than many people want to admit.
We all do it, right?

How many times have you taken vacation, but left someone at the office with your cellphone number, "just in case." Defeats the purpose of a vacation, yet we're all in this together, apparently.

I'm in New York with my family on holiday.
Tickets purchased way in advance, hotel reservations locked in.
The Friday before Christmas we learned a content distributor was interested in syndicating some of the shows we originate on The BizRadio Network.

So much for the Best-of Shows we'd put together of our favorite conversations with famous and interesting people over the past year.
No canned shows, all live.

If I were a stage actor, you would describe me as a "method actor:"
I have a set pattern of preparation for each day's show.
Lots of reading, lots of editing, lots of time.
So Christmas Eve found me prepping for The Day After Christmas, up in the hotel room.

I also discovered that the ill-fated Starbucks, next to the BizRadio Studios in the 55 Broad St. building, is a perfect place to begin the next day's show notes without disturbing (or becoming distracted by) vacationing family members.

(By the way, Mike Norman, they've been terrific to me in here. Maybe I just sound funny to everyone, and they find me marginally entertaining in a quaint sort of way, you think?)

Our hotel is an older one, and we're in a small room with no frills.
We figured we're just going to sleep and change clothes (same as Cruise ship mentality.)
Not even a mini-bar cooler.

That's okay if you're just knocking about the City, taking food and liquid refreshment on the fly.
When you're working on deadline, however, the rules change.
The requirements change.

Mini-bottles of water and a quad-pack of Red Bull from the corner Duane Reade drugstore and grocery. A box of mini-muffins and Granola bars for the cab ride.

Don't forget to leave a can of Red Bull chilling on the window sill...and don't forget to grab it before leaving each morning.


You'll hear the result in the show.
I'll see you in the morning on the Radio.

Christmas in New York

Outings are so much more fun when we can savor them through the children's eyes.
Lawana Blackwell

This Christmas we took “the kids” to New York City.
There was much thought and planning that went into this decision.
In fact, we even had the trip paid for by the time October rolled around.

Taking your kids on vacation is quite different from driving over the river and through the woods to Grandmother’s house. One child is organized and methodical; one child is a mass chaos creative genius. They’re both a little anal in their own realms. Which made packing a bit of a nightmare.

Isn’t it interesting how your children are a blend of the best and the worst of both parents? My bride has been packing for this trip for two weeks.

Mentally, so had I, I told her (and I had.) But it was 11pm on the night before we left before the final case was zipped tightly shut. And it was my Bride’s luggage that had to be “rebalanced” for weight on the sidewalk in front of the airport.

I wasn’t really sure I even wanted to leave the house for the holidays. The past two Christmases have been tough, first recovering from cancer surgery in ’05, and then still dealing with the after effects of all that in ’06. I felt that I was the weak link in the family’s chain for holiday cheer.

Then there's that whole cold weather issue, and the idea of intentionally traveling to a part of the planet where snow plows and road salt are standard-issue for Winter just does not appeal to me.

The weather has been glorious.
Cold, yes, but the weather outside has certainly not been frightful.

What I didn’t realize, and have been truly blessed to witness, is the joy our kids are having, running up and down the crowded streets, seeing the sites, and sharing their experiences.

You see, we also invited along the significant-others in our children's lives.
They’re not kids.
At 26 and 22, they’re their own adults.
But the true joy has been in seeing them in their completion with their companions, and the happiness the couples are sharing.

I don’t know if they will still be “couples,” or something more permanent by this time next Christmas. That’s been a warm-fuzzy notion to contemplate, but it’s not up to me.

So this has been a magical Christmas for our family, which seems about to take on a new, extended form.

The excitement and delight in their eyes as we wander the streets of New York has been the best present my Bride and I could have ever given one another!

So from our house to your's, Merry Christmas!

The Day Before Christmas

It’s the day before Christmas, and all through the town, nothing’s not on sale—everything’s been marked down.

The red tags are marked by the store clerks with care in hopes that St. Nicholas’ minions will soon be there.

The brokers have been nestled, all snug in their cubes, with visions of bonuses for all but the rubes.

With Goldman’s latest earnings, and mortgagors stewing from the latest flap, they’re all settling down for a couple of days off from this crap.

When down on The Street there comes such a clatter…even MSNBC pulls a commercial to see what was the matter.

Away to the monitors, reporters fly in a flash, breaking into regular programming, and giving up some cash.

The moon on the crust of the cab-driven slush, gives luster to the lucre in the pre-holiday crush.

When what to their wondering eyes should appear, but the results of mini rate-cuts—not intended to be severe.

From a wiley new chairman, in his pocket a hankie…they know in a moment it must be Ben Bernanke.

More rapid than beagles, his Fed governors have brayed,

“A half-point, a quarter, three-quarters,” they’ve prayed.

“Now Krosner and Mishkin, Vice Chairman Kohn, Mister Walsh,” says Ben, “all these rate cuts will come out in the wash in the end.”

“Tell Boston and Dallas, New York and St. Lou, we’ll save the economy and stop inflation, too.”

To the top of the markets, from here at Broad and Wall, we’ll evaporate anxiety, yes, dash away all!”

As lemmings before a wild market will fly, when they meet with an obstacle, climb a wall of worry to the sky.

So up to the exhanges the traders they flew with a bag full of ammo from the Fed governor’s brew.

And then in a twinking, faster than a level-2 trade, the markets responded to the changes Ben made.

As traders withdrew and the stocks turned around, down the industrials came with a choke and a bound.

Money passed through their fingers like charcoal and soot, and trading slips and electronic orders were tramped underfoot.

The bundle of rate cuts did the dollar attack, to that even the OPEC princes wanted out of that pact.

Ben’s eyes, how they twinkled, his bald spot gleamed like a lamp; his actions, however, betrayed all his vamps.

His droll little mouth was drawn up in an “oh!” as he observed how his changes were ebbing the flow.

A stump of a stogie he held in his teeth, while the steam from his ears encircled like a wreath.

He had a pinched face, with an expression of anguish, as he watched from the Fed as the markets extinguished.

Ben’s visage was darkened, not a jolly old elf… as the economy reacted in spite of himself.

With a wink of an eye, and a twist of his head…Wall Street wondered anew what there might be to dread.

Ben spoke not like Greenspan, but continued to work, fielding questions and pundits and talking heads and some jerks…

And laying a finger on the side of his nose, he let them all know they were “number one,” I suppose.

He sprang to the Fed, gave the governors a whistle, and into an FOMC meeting they flew like a missile.

And we heard Ben exclaim as they met out of sight…

“Just wait until next year.”