There are two mottos I have borrowed as “my own.”  The first is “Dream out Loud!”  A reference to the idea far too many store their aspirations in a vault somewhere, never letting others know what they want or want to be.  The second is “Make a Difference Everyday!” 

A close friend of mine has achieved incredible success, starting over 40 companies while mentoring hundreds of college students all over America.  He was leading a discussion about his life when someone in the room asked “when did you know you had achieved success.”    My friend answered, “I don’t measure my success by the companies I start or the money that comes in as a result.  I measure my success one day at a time.  If at the end of the day I can honestly say I’ve made a difference in someone’s life, I know I have been successful.”

That remark stuck in the back of my head for many years.  It was something I wanted to aspire to achieve, but not something I really thought I was capable of achieving.  And then, my life changed.  Well not totally, but at least in terms of realizing how even the most seemingly minor situation can be monumental. 

Another friend, Rob, was in town from Texas and wanted to meet.  Rob lived across the hall from me in the dorms when we were freshmen in college.   Over coffee Rob asked me if I remembered the talk we had in the dorms one night during finals week.I was studying near 2 AM and Rob came back from being out all night.  I yelled through the door about what “trouble” he might be causing at such a late hour but he ignored me.  A few minutes later he came out of the room, headed to the shower ,and again I tried to provoke him.  Then, after his shower, the exercise was repeated and again he chose not to respond.  A few minutes later he came out of his room and into mine and sat down.

We talked all night and when daylight arrived, headed for the cafeteria for breakfast.  I don’t recall anything earth-shattering being discussed.  However Rob did.  In fact, now fast-forwarding back to our coffee meeting, he said, “that night changed my life.”  He continued, “That day was horrible for me.  I had gotten my final grade in an architecture class and it wasn’t good.  After a night drowning my sorrows I had decided to end my life.  Our talk helped me realize life was worth living.  I have a great job, a wonderful wife, terrific children, and I owe it all to you.  If you wouldn’t have been there, I probably wouldn’t be here now.”  Needless to say I was floored.  And in retrospect what was more amazing was that I did not do anything profound, I just talked and listened.   I certainly did not realize I was “saving a life.”

As REALTORS@ we change lives every day.  We help our clients find the perfect homes.  We lead some to their first offices or retail stores.  While others count on us to sell their homes to venture off to a new dream.  And in the process we “make a difference” in the lives crossing our paths.  

My challenge for this month is to remind you that while we remember the significance of the interactions with our clients, we sometimes forget the “Robs” of the world we encounter throughout the day, every day.  There are 6 magic words I’ll share.  I hope you’ll burn them in your memory and use them with everyone you meet throughout the month.  Those words are “what can I do to help?” 

(The previous story is an excerpt from the February CCAR Knothole)

A Farewell to my "life advisor"

If you know me well you know I am very stubborn when I have my mind made up.  In fact, changing my opinion is often an excruciatingly painful experience for those charged with the task.  However there are  a few people in my life who can affect that change without too much of a fight and two who could change it just by the suggestion.  The few who have had a minimal challenge are my sister, my former fraternity chapter advisor Jim Acheson, my step mother June and the managing broker at our real estate firm..  The two who changed my mind by suggesting or  just telling me to change it were my dad and Jill Acheson. A few years ago my father was taken by cancer.  And today, Jill Acheson is gone as well, taken by the same cruel disease.

Mrs. "Ache" was a remarkable woman who with simple grace and hospitality changed the lives of nearly everyone she crossed paths with.  She never stood at a podium and swayed large audiences to see things her  way.  She wasn't the type to sermonize in public.  Jill held all of her debates in one of two places, her living room or her dining room table.  She was the master of "divide and conquer."  Because to hear her explain the answers to life's most challenging questions would result in a sometimes radical change in your own life's learnings.

We met first at her home.  Her oldest son Bill was my pledge brother in the Phi Kappa Psi chapter at the University of Illinois.  Bill would invite guests to his house nearly every Sunday for dinner.  And those guests were most often his Phi Psi brothers.  Each of us were treated to the finest of meals, always a meat and potato preparation far exceeding the best meal any of us had been served in fine restaurants.  And accepting this invitation meant were were brought into the circle Mrs. Ache so carefully maintained.

She was a grand and glorious woman of Phi Kappa Psi.  Again not because she came to the house and lectured, but because her family was and is a Phi Psi family.  Husband Jim initiated into the chapter in the 1950's.  In his life he served on the house corporation and as chapter advisor.  Even today "Ache" is serving on the capital campaign to renovate the chapter house to the tune of $3.5 million.  He is and always will be a loyal member of the fraternity.

Her two sons, Bill and Steve, pledged and initiated into the chapter.  Daughter Suzanne was a "little sister, pledge mom and Phi Psi advocate when she was in school. Her second daughter, Amy, sat at the dinner table and listened to Mrs. Ache question us all her entire life.  By the time she was in her teens "Ames" was a fraternity expert, just in what she had absorbed at the table.  And now her grandson Adam is an undergraduate member of the chapter.  For over 60 years Jill Acheson has been loyal to our chapter. But it's her loyalty to me I want to talk about today.

I lost my mother when I was 12.  While my dad remarried a wonderful woman, she wasn't able to break through my barriers to consul me in a maternal nature.  In meeting Mrs. Ache I found someone who would have a profound influence on the rest of my life.  You see she wouldn't accept your opinion at face value.  Mrs. Ache had "Mike Wallace" like charm, pealing away your layers question after question until she exposed the core of your beliefs.  And once exposed, she would pick away until she truly helped you restructure those opinions.

She was fascinated by fraternity culture as well as leadership development challenges.  Twenty years ago I replaced her son Bill as chapter advisor who had replaced his dad who held that position before.  In fact Jim was chapter advisor when I was an undergraduate officer.  And as if the torch had been passed to me from her family she insisted I update her regularly in all of those years.  As recently as last year I sat a few hours in her living room and provided details about the chapter as it is today.  I would discuss problems I was having, challenges I faced with the undergrads and goals for fixing the problems. I have truly been more accountable to her for the chapter's future than to the university or any alum.

Interestingly enough as her husband Jim and I were in the early stages of planning the current capital campaign he insisted I meet with "Jillsy" before he could commit a pledge from his family.  She was the matriarch of all things Phi Psi in the Acheson family.

But for me at least, while the fraternity was a part of all of our conversations, it was hardly the substance of our friendship and love.  You see, Mrs. Ache and I shared something even deeper.  We both love a well written story.  Whether it was books, theater or movies, we talked at length about great stories.  I have read over 50 books in my life she suggested.  She introduced me to James Michener, John Grisham, Nelson DeMille and Ken Follett as if she knew them personally.  In her house on Clark St, "The Garage Mahal" so named because of an addition they built in a 100 year old plus home equal in size to the original house, she had a vast library with 100's of books.  At a dinner she might hand me one for the month and then once completed we would discuss plots and characters and the paintings these authors had crafted on their canvasses word by word.  She loved to read and she loved to share the experiences she had.

This summer I'm producing Les Miserables.  I first saw this show over 20 years ago when Mrs. Ache and I saw it at the Assembly Hall.  I have seen the show over 30 times since then, most recently on the big screen. And this summer I will experience the show again live on stage with the Champaign Urbana Theater Company.  Needless to say it's my favorite theatrical story.  Thank you Mrs. Ache for opening my eyes to great theater.

There have been many a time I have met with her privately.  She knew I was a dreamer and I shared many a dream with her.  Sometimes they were about troubled kids who needed a hand to make a difference.  Sometimes it was about changing the course of the fraternity or of my life.  She walked through every condo I looked at before I bought it, careful to tell me "this one isn't right for you."  We talked about job changes and supervisors and relationships and life.  We talked about politics often, one of her favorite topics as long as you were a conservative,  and we talked about me.  And more than once she took out her check book, writing me a check so that I might help someone else reach their dream.  She knew I was committed to helping others and this was her way to play a part in it.  And each time she would say, don't tell them this is from me, and "don't tell Ache."

She loved her family more than anything.  She protected her children like a mother lion might protect her cubs.  She lost a son, Steve, at age 18 in a tragic accident.  Mrs. Ache never fully recovered from it, a piece of her heart was taken when Steve died.  But life moved on, and as it did, she had grandchildren to take the place of what she lost.  When we met she would tell me about every one.  She loved each one of them the most and everyone equally.  Grandmothers can do that somehow.

And while Mrs. Ache wasn't my real mother, she was as much of a mother as I could ever have hoped to have in my life.  I got to say goodbye to her before she passed into heavens gates.  And I got to thank her for what she meant to me and just let her know how much I loved her.I'm thankful for that. I know she is happy to be reunited with Steve and I know that heaven is a better place to be just because she is there. I'm certain she has a living room or a dining room and in it she is calling in each of God's angels one by one and questioning just why they might believe what they believe.

So this summer I will think of her every single day as we are preparing Les Miserables.  The last line in the show is given by Jean Valjean who sings, "to love another person is to see the face of God."   Because in her, and through her charm and wit and grace I have seen God's face, each and every time I looked into her eyes.  Thank you Mrs. Ache.

Brothers vs. MEmbers

I  became a member of a fraternity when I was a sophomore in college.  As a member I have done about everything anyone has ever asked of me, donating my time, my talents and a lot of money.  I was a "live in" pledge with about 20 other guys in my pledge class.  Like most pledges of the 70's I was hazed during pledgeship, called lots of names and told to do 1000's of push ups and lots of other calisthenics all in the name of becoming a better brother.   And I did everything I was asked to do and can honestly say that no matter how much I hated it at the time, there's nothing I did then I can't talk about publicly now.  I was lucky in that regard and I know hundreds of members of my fraternity and other fraternities who don't want to talk about their pledgeships publicly.

Every pledge class has an active member who is in charge.  He may be called the pledge "trainer", "educator" , "chairman" or "boss."  This was true then and it's still true today, although the name may have become more politically correct.  Something like "membership education director".  Typically this guy is someone who's sole value to the fraternity is having a big mouth and acting tough.  Usually they are not great students, they have no clue about the values the fraternity was founded on and are more knowledgeable about the local bar scene than the bar exam.  

They got the job because they promised to make the pledges better "brothers".  You see every fraternity has a group of members who think it's their job to make sure the traditions of the fraternity are carried forward.  And completing pledgeship is a critical right of passage for the sake of the "house" to succeed.  It doesn't really matter what those traditions are, whether they be "total cans of beer consumed, most women hit on, or trash left to rot in the living room."  Rarely are these traditions based on the core values of the fraternity.  Things like education, community service and common decency are often left off the list.  

Ok so what does that have to do with brothers and members.  While everyone who initiates into a fraternity becomes a member, I am suggesting that not everyone becomes a Brother.   I'm not trying to confuse you here.  We all know members of fraternities are called "brothers".  In this argument I'm going to distinguish what I call members from what I'll call Brothers.  Let me define the difference:

MEmbers:   Initiated into the fraternity.  Usually hold offices like social chairman, athletic director, pledge educator/trainer.  Have an underlying belief the fraternity founders had them in mind when they held their first party.  Usually behind in house payment, social payments, t-shirt payments, etc.  Never pay required out of house fees as those are for someone else.  First to complain when a scholarship chairman indicates there should be sanctions for not having at least a B- grade point average. Picture themselves coming back to the fraternity after they drop out and teaching the pledges how to play Pong.   fraternity motto:  What's in it for me?

Brothers:  Initiated into the Fraternity.  May or may not hold an office as titles are not why they joined.  Think about the chapter reputation everyday.  Constantly evaluate the ideals of the Fraternity and compare them to their own.  Are amazed the founders could chose values that translate so well into today's society.  Know the national Fraternity history, local history and have met many of the more renown alumni.  Can't believe others compliment them for community and campus service as service has always been a part of their life.  Fraternity motto:  Service before self. 

So here's my theory.  We waste way too much time teaching our pledges how to be MEmbers.  How long can that take?  An hour at a table with flippy cups?  Maybe another hour at the local pub trashing the women?  So let's have a 3 hour pledeship for members.  About 85% of our initiates are lifetime MEmbers.  And except for waving at the house as they walk by on football Saturdays between tailgating and Kams, we probably never see or hear from them.  They don't donate to the Foundation of the chapter or the university, instead leaving their money behind in liquor taxes. 

As for Brothers?  Well no amount of pledge ship really matters.  These guys already understand the values of the Fraternity.  They will learn about the Brotherhood for the rest of their lives, attending reunions, and homecomings and conventions, constantly striving to become a more dedicated contributor to the Fraternity.  They will donate their time, their money and their passion to the chapter, the university and their communities.  And they will uphold the visions of the Founders in everything they do.  

Fences or Ambulances? Let's start the discussion today.

In light of the event that happened at Sandy Hook Elementary School on Friday and all of the other tragedies we have had to deal with in the past years, our Pastor opened our church service with this poem today.  Isn't it time we had a serious discussion in this country about the topic of guns.

A Fence or an Ambulance

'Twas a dangerous cliff, as they freely confessed,
Though to walk near its crest was so pleasant;
But over its terrible edge there had slipped
A duke and full many a peasant.

So the people said something would have to be done,
But their projects did not at all tally;
Some said, "Put a fence 'round the edge of the cliff,"
Some, "An ambulance down in the valley."

But the cry for the ambulance carried the day,
For it spread through the neighboring city;
A fence may be useful or not, it is true,
But each heart became full of pity

For those who slipped over the dangerous cliff;
And the dwellers in highway and alley
Gave pounds and gave pence, not to put up a fence,
But an ambulance down in the valley.

"For the cliff is all right, if you're careful," they said,
"And, if folks even slip and are dropping,
It isn't the slipping that hurts them so much
As the shock down below when they're stopping."

So day after day, as these mishaps occurred,
Quick forth would those rescuers sally
To pick up the victims who fell off the cliff,
With their ambulance down in the valley.

Then an old sage remarked: "It's a marvel to me
That people give far more attention
To repairing results than to stopping the cause,
When they'd much better aim at prevention.

Let us stop at its source all this mischief," cried he,
"Come, neighbors and friends, let us rally;
If the cliff we will fence, we might almost dispense
With the ambulance down in the valley."

"Oh he's a fanatic," the others rejoined,
"Dispense with the ambulance? Never!
He'd dispense with all charities, too, if he could;
No! No! We'll support them forever.

Aren't we picking up folks just as fast as they fall?
And shall this man dictate to us? Shall he?
Why should people of sense stop to put up a fence,
While the ambulance works in the valley?"

But the sensible few, who are practical too,
Will not bear with such nonsense much longer;
They believe that prevention is better than cure,
And their party will soon be the stronger.

Encourage them then, with your purse, voice, and pen,
And while other philanthropists dally,
They will scorn all pretense, and put up a stout fence
On the cliff that hangs over the valley.

Better guide well the young than reclaim them when old,
For the voice of true wisdom is calling.
"To rescue the fallen is good, but 'tis best
To prevent other people from falling."

Better close up the source of temptation and crime
Than deliver from dungeon or galley;
Better put a strong fence 'round the top of the cliff
Than an ambulance down in the valley.
-- Joseph Malins (1895)

Making a list! (or not)

I was sitting at church last Sunday when a good friend of mine started talking about what Christmas and the holiday season was all about.  I’m a list person.  I keep “to do” lists both physically and constantly in my mind as I keep a fairly hectic schedule.  When the holidays approach it seems as though my “lists” are never ending.  Just as quickly as I knock something off the list three more things are added.  Are your holidays like that?

Send cards, shop for relatives, decorate the house, decorate the tree, stop at shipping store to mail gifts, work on Church holiday programs, plan holiday meals, and shop for holiday meals are just a short version of the longer list detailing all the specifics needing to get done.  Of course I have a business to run and various holiday parties and events to attend as well.  There is just so much to do in December and not enough time to get it all done. 

My head spins and I begin to wonder if the list will ever be done.  Isn’t that what matters?   Getting prepared for the holidays is the highest priority?  For me at least, I tend to fall into that trap more than need be.

Back to what my friend Mike shared at Church Sunday.  Mike is one of those guys who is always busy as well.  A devoted servant of the church, Mike is a leader of the praise band and is always lending his time to play at special services, parties and even funerals and weddings.  He talked about how he too lived by the lists at Christmas.  He lost his wife at too young an age and the “duties” for the surviving parent were overwhelming. 

And at the height of his frustrations one holiday season he visited some old friends.  Over the course of a few days he shared with these friends his concerns and problems and all the things on his list he wasn’t getting done.   After a few days of self centered pity, his friend offered simple advice.   “Mike” she said.  “It’s not about you, it’s about a celebration of a birth in a manger, the coming together of family and friends to remember what matters.”

We have had a remarkable year in Real Estate.  Sales continue to climb, housing prices are creeping up and consumer confidence promises more of the same as we move into next year.  We are busier than we have been in several years.  If you are like me, this “busy-ness” means you are relying on lists to make sure your holidays are perfect.   My advice for the day, if the lists don’t get done, it’s alright!  Remember to stop what you are doing, lay down your phones, turn off your computers, and just enjoy those things that matter.  It wasn’t about Mike, and it’s not about me or you either.

Happy Holidays!

(This is a repost from the December "Knothole". A publication of the Champaign County Association of REALTORS)

The Dumbest Thing I ever did in College (Part One)

Ok so we have all done dumb things in our lives.  I'm no exception.  I mean part of growing up, especially while attending college,  are the choices you make.  The opportunity presents itself, and you either act or your choose not to.  While my list of "acts I regret" is much longer than one incident, I thought it might be fun to recount the dumbest of the dumb acts in my college years.

So is was a cold January night and one of my pledge brothers and I were walking back from KAMS, a popular Campustown watering hole headed for my apartment.  We may have had a few too many, although certainly at this point in my life I can honestly say I don't recall having been "under the influence."  It's highly probable though.

One of our local fraternities, Sigma Alpha Epsilon, has a grand staircase leading from the sidewalk to their front door.  Sitting on either side of the staircase are beautiful sculptures of lions similar to the photo above.  Apparently the lion is one of their honored fraternal symbols.  Certainly these two sculptures had sat on their perch overlooking Daniels Street for many a year.  

It was common practice in those days for other fraternities and sororities to "decorate" the lions.  On any given morning you might find them painted a new color, adorned with clothing, both outer and under wear or covered in the previous night's meal offerings.  They were certainly attention getter's for many who lived in the neighborhood.  

So on this late January evening, my pledge brother Bill and I were walking by the stately lions only to find that one had been knocked off it's perch.  The fall had damaged the lion, breaking off one of the paws.  I'm certain our natural instincts of preserving fine art must have kicked in, or something to that effect, and we decided in one of our more brilliant moments to rescue the fallen lion!  

I remember it was heavy, very heavy...and rather than carry it three blocks to my apartment we chose to carry it one block to our chapter house.  There we nurtured it's wounds, applied the appropriate medicines and bandaged the fallen idol, or we threw it in the chapter room, I'm not really sure which.  Either way, in the morning it was in the chapter room.  

When our fellow brothers came back from winter break we were certainly applauded for our bravery.  However our chapter president, being of sound mind and values, insisted we remove it from the chapter room.  "Trouble" was his fear.  As the lion was broken, returning it would only lead to punishment.  Of that we were certain.  So again, in another brilliant move, we loaded it into the back of a car and permanently entombed it in a dumpster behind County Market.  It may still be there some 35 years later.

Time passed, I graduated and went to work in Detroit, and  I really hadn't given that night much thought.  And then, Bill called.  SAE found out that we had taken the lion and guess what?  They wanted it replaced.   In another of life's important lessons, I learned that you can't replace just one lion.  As the first one was over 50 years old, finding a second that matched was impossible.  So both needed replacing.  Bill informed me the invoice was $3000.  We split the cost and replaced the lions.  A noble thing to do I'm sure. (But perhaps the threat of arrest was more influential than nobility).

So as I pass the front entrance of the Sigma Alpha Epsilon fraternity on the corner of Third and Daniels in Campustown I am reminded of my misgivings on a regular basis.  And while I feel a sense of ownership for these lions, (I claim to own the one on the left), I am also reminded that "preserving fine works of art" should be left the the professionals!

There's No Place Like Home!

(The following is a reprint of my monthly message in the Champaign County Association of REALTORS Knothole)

Last weekend was Homecoming at the University of Illinois and on college campuses all over America.  Now if you would have asked me when I was in high school or even in my early years in college if I would consider the University of Illinois or Champaign Urbana “home” in 30 years   I probably would have laughed you out of the building. 

But Champaign County is my home and I’m proud of it.  A lot of my friends don’t understand how I can possibly stand living in such a “small town” after growing up in the Chicago suburbs.  And yet I can’t imagine a place more vibrant, more fun than this town. 

Christian Morganstern said, “Home is not where you live, but where they understand you.”  For me at least, if there is anywhere in the world where I’m understood its good old CU.  We are a community rich in diversity, comfortable in the pursuit of knowledge and a magnet for people from all over the world who come here to shape their lives.   

But that’s my vision of what home is.  Home is so much more than that for the rest of the world.  And as Realtors we shape those places for many in our community.  When you begin to think about the influence a home has on families it becomes difficult to comprehend just what an impact we have in people’s lives. 

We are “homes” greatest advocates.  We work hard to find the perfect fit for our clients.  Whether it’s the number of bedrooms, the bathrooms, the ideal kitchen, basements or just the feel you get the first time you walk through the doors, our members work diligently every day to discover the house that’s “just right.”  And from that first impression, lives are created, shaped and grown.  

These are the places we all feel comfortable going back to.  Millions will brave the elements in the next few weeks to recapture the magic and the spirit of their youth.  And while every home does not inspire “Norman Rockwell” moments, most will be filled with the comfort and safety that comes from the memories shared with families.   

That’s what we do for a living you know.  We find houses for our clients and these houses become the homes their children and grandchildren come back to year after year.  So this holiday season when you are gathered in your home or the home of another friend or family member, remember it is because of the work you do every day that these moments happen.

“Home is an invention on which no one has yet improved.”   Ann Douglas