Everybody Loves A Deal

Everybody loves a deal. Whether shopping for a home, a car, a pair of shoes or a pack of gum, the right product at the right price is hard to pass up. In fact, the Black Friday electronics hunt has become as much a tradition for my son and I as is the Thanksgiving deer hunt for many of my friends. Often without a specific product in mind, we merely look for a deal. There's always something to be had.

I was reminded the other day of "Miracle on 34th Street" where Macy's and Gimble's attempt to outsmart their competitors by sending customers to the other store when a particular item is out of stock. Sales boom when the inevitable positive PR avalanche ensues.

I went to Walmart the other day to purchase a new release on Blu Ray. Thinking I was going to the store with the best price, I was caught in a predicament upon discovering that theirs was not the least expensive location (it's a long walk to the back of a Walmart). Without hesitation, the sales associate went to the register, pulled out a binder with all of the competitor's ads and found the location with the best price. She then honored that price which represented about a 20% discount.

I thanked her for her help and left a happy customer. They apparently have figured out that 80% of something is better than 100% of nothing. I, in turn, have a heightened commitment to visit Walmart 1st, when I can, in the hunt for movies and electronics. With Blu Ray in hand, the Christmas season shifted into gear about the same time as the local FM station started playing non-stop George Michael and Brenda Lee Christmas tunes.

I heard on the news this morning that a family started camping in front of a store in anticipation of Black Friday, 8 days before the event. While my family will not be spending our nights in a tent in front of Walmart, we will head that way on the day after Thanksgiving in search of a deal.

Inspiration For An Adopted Son

I have to qualify what you are about to read with somewhat of a disclaimer. In these parts, you risk losing half of your audience immediately when you take one side or the other. I married into this state and it's rich history of football. I love the tradition and look forward to Saturdays in the fall as much as I looked forward to an Angel's game or the Superbowl of Motocross coming to the LA Coliseum when I was a kid. But now, as a legitimate resident of Sweet Home Alabama (my wife and kids were born here), I am going to proceed with caution lest my friends on the other side totally disregard what follows. . .

Yes, I went to see Nick Saban:Game Changer last night. This recent release highlights the history of Nick Saban, the coach of the Alabama Crimson Tide (for those of you in another universe), his history as a coach in general and his coaching of the team that won the 2010 National Championship in particular. Team loyalty aside, I found this to be highly motivational on a number of fronts.

Foundationally, Saban knows football. He is a student of the game, of his opponents and of his players. He is disciplined and focused and expects the same of those around him. His goal in leading his players is that they become good citizens, good students and good athletes; in that order. His does not appear to be a philosophy of win no matter the cost (hear me out), but, with the proper foundation, discipline, talent and preparation, he fully expects his team to win.

Secondly, he recognizes that there are exceptional players and there are role players. Each has his place. If every participant on the team carries out his role with perfection (that comes through focus and preparation), with a determination to flawlessly execute for 60 minutes each game, his team will win.

And finally, he cares about people. With his father as his role model and the mountains of West Virginia his training ground, Nick Saban became a fierce competitor with a heart for people. He is reaping the rewards of his success, but not solely for his own consumption. His coaching staff and his players say they are better people having been associated with him.

So, what was in this film for an adopted son who did not play football, nor grow up watching the sport outside of the bowl season around the holidays, and with certainly no understanding, prior to moving here, of the cult-like status football enjoys in my transplanted home state? I have a job that I enjoy. The outcome of my occupational efforts are judged on a competitive level. I work always to be exceptional. At times I may just fill a role. But I am who I am. It is up to me to take advantage of the talents and opportunity God has given and tackle each day with all I possess.

In order to be successful, I must know who I am as a player. I must know the product I present and I must know the market in which I compete. I came away from Game Changer being challenged to "up my game", to approach each day, each encounter with my customers at a level of preparation, excellence and execution needed to exceed the goals set for me. Success in my work, however, means nothing if I don't do well in caring for those around me.

I will see Game Changer again and will own it when it comes out on DVD. Whether I am an Alabama or Auburn fan doesn't matter. The bar has been raised and I will approach Monday morning and every morning with a more determined outlook.

What a Difference a Day Makes

Today is the 1st of September. It is still very much summer; in the 90's with a forecast of 96 tomorrow! Tessa and Jonathan have been back in school for almost 3 weeks now. For that matter, so has Beth who is teaching 3rd grade. By the way, what happened to starting school a little later (remember the song, "See you in September")?

Regardless, as I said, it is very much summer. Yet there is a change in the air and it seems to affect most things. Commercials on the radio touting vacations at the beach sound a little out of place and the e-mail I received from Starbucks reintroducing the Pumpkin Spice Latte came off as a little premature. I'm looking forward to the long Labor Day weekend to be sure. But, it doesn't feel like the lead-up to the 4th of July. And, really, that's OK.

Without the putting away of summer gear and pulling out all things fall, I might lack perspective. What is the anticipation of warmer weather in June without the seclusion from winter in January? In Birmingham I have experienced the seasons like never before. From my back porch I can watch the changes in the trees on Oak Mountain. Growing up in Southern Cal, however, we only faked it! Winter very rarely dipped into the 30's and the most I'd seen of autumn was in America the Beautiful in "CircleVision 360" a pictoral trip around the U.S. at Disneyland.

So, regardless, it is September and while we will hang around the pool this weekend and grill the ribs and veggies and drink the tea, change again is in control. I will submit to its dictates and reluctantly transition to the new season. But beware winter! I'll be looking to you in a few weeks after the leaves have fallen, with Starbucks in hand, lamenting your arrival. . .

Harvill, Party of Four

Thanks go out to Steven Spielberg and George Lucas. . .

Beth, Tessa, Jonathan and I were in Washington, DC this past weekend. It was a particularly busy one as people had traveled in from all points of the U.S. to attend a rally. The crowds caused us to remember the need for a specific plan to stick together. At one point when we were literally in a sea of people and Jonathan had continued ahead toward his targeted location becoming somewhat separated from us, I pulled him back to remind him of the need to navigate together. He quickly said, "Harvill, Party of Four". That stuck and was my catch phrase for the trip.

Before we left Birmingham, we all had chosen the places we had hoped to go. My goal was to visit the Smithsonian Museum of American Art. I had read that there was an exhibit of original Norman Rockwell paintings on loan from the collections of Spielberg and Lucas. I tried to plan my agenda around everyone else's so as not to cramp anyone's style. Now I knew that there might be a bit of curiosity owing to the fact that Spielberg and Lucas's names were attached to this Rockwell thing. Beyond that, however, I merely hoped to catch a glimpse of the paintings and move to the next location on the list without seeing the boredom etched on my teenager's faces along with the rolling of the eyes that signals complete disinterest.

For a little history, I have always appreciated Rockwell's view of America. To me it's a glimpse of the nation I want to exist. I expect the same from a Frank Capra movie. It's a Wonderful Life is my all-time favorite. In fact, we have made a Christmas tradition out of heading down to the Alabama Theatre a week or so before the 25th to watch that poignant slice of cinematography in the type of venue created for the big screen; a movie palace from the 1920's: Visit The Alabama Theatre.

So, I walked through the exhibit housed in the building that hosted President Lincoln's 2nd Inaugural Ball and after viewing the paintings and reading the stories behind their creation I went to check out the gift shop and wait for the regrouping of the clan and the inevitable statements of boredom. To my suprise - no my astonishment, Tessa and Jonathan came in to say that they loved the paintings. Not only that, they wanted to come back the next day! They were captivated by the simplicity of the art and the tales relayed in each scene. In a word, they got it! They possess an appreciation of something Mom and Dad like; not the kind of appreciation that stems from honoring the old folks. No, they truly enjoyed Norman Rockwell's paintings for what they represent to them.

Wow!

This weekend, and I said it so many times before leaving D.C. to head back to reality, was a great time together. We have our struggles as every family does. We miscommunicate and misunderstand with regularity. But, we also find common ground and discover those moments when, with all of our differences and divergent interests, we hit our stride and find that we really do enjoy each other. Family is good. It's the hardest thing Beth and I have ever done. But boy, is it worth it. Thanks again, Mr. Spielberg and Mr. Lucas, and Mr. Rockwell, for bringing together the family of Harvill, party of four.

Why I Don't Like Mondays

My son does not like change. I don't mean to blame it on him. As is said, 'he got it honestly'. The truth is, I don't like change much either. My best friend in elementary school moved to Anaheim (a full 10 minutes away) when we were in 2nd grade. I saw him one more time after that. Didn't like that change. In the band days on the road, the lineup changed all the time. One would move on and I thought the best days were over.

It's not just people. I try to hold on to the seasons, squeezing as much life out of summer and my Beach Boys records before surrendering to the cooler days of fall and September of My Years by Sinatra. The holidays, vacations and mere weekends bring out the reluctance in me toward change.

So here it is, another Sunday night. I regularly find that I am trying to make the most of the few hours left before I go to bed then get up, put on the tie and head out the door. See, I don't like change. I resist the inevitable until I realize that the 'Monday through Friday' of the week allows me to enjoy the Saturday and Sunday part. In reality, I love what I do and without the work there is no play. So, bring on the suit! I'll load up the car and head to the offices where I get to talk with folks about their weekend past and speculate on their plans for the weekend ahead!

The Flag Ceremony

I am a sucker for patriotic events. As kids, my brothers and I would march around the living room beating pots and pans marching to "Victory at Sea" playing on the stereo. The end of June meant that the fireworks stands would be going up and we would walk barefooted (in order to condition the feet for the inevitable heat of summer in California) to view the rather tame offerings (due to California's fire restrictions) at the Freedom Fireworks or Black Cat booth and imagine what havoc we could wreak on the 4th of July. When I stood in front of Leutze's painting of "Washington Crossing the Delaware" in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York I felt a sense of pride for and connection with our nation's 1st General and President.



This respect for the devotion to country was also reinforced at the semi-annual flag ceremony at Pacific Drive Elementary School. The entire student body would gather around the flag pole. Ted, the custodian, would roll out the upright piano and we would all recite the Pledge of Allegiance after which Mrs. Pool would sing the National Anthem. I never had Mrs. Pool as a teacher, but she was the symbol to me of our national song in those early years. (Ironically, my brother and I ran into her in an obscure Pennsylvania town at a random Italian restaurant many, many years later.) Those events solidified a certain reverance I still feel whenever the opportunity to display devotion to America presents itself, whether in the classroom or at a ball game.



I have noticed, however, that there has been a subtle de-emphasis on patriotism creeping into our culture. Ask elementary students how frequently they recite the pledge and, suprisingly, some will say not too often if at all. The National Anthem is still played at sports events around the country with the same excitement it always brought, but, where are the stories? Who is teaching our children of the heroics displayed by those who founded this country and were willing to die to establish and protect freedom? Who is standing up to challenge those who are now seeking to re-write American history and diminish the gift of national greatness bestowed on us by our Creator?



I was confronted by a comment I heard a couple of years ago. Someone on the radio said, 'how will you answer when your grandchildren ask you what you did during these challenging days?' That question haunted me for a while, but I soon committed to do all I could to understand and reacquaint myself with the history, the documents and the people that made this nation great. I began reading (and re-reading) the books, studying the Constitution and praying for renewal in America. I also committed to participate in the events that support our Nation's history and greatness. In fact, that very question is why we're loading up the car to head to DC for a patriotic rally later this month. For the 2nd time in a year, my family and I will stand amidst the throng of thousands seeking to regain a sense of pride and honor, longing to see America's strength restored and looking to find again the passion that filled the heart of that 1st grader as he sang the National Anthem with Mrs. Pool.

That Which We Love

I received an e-mail yesterday from a friend in So Cal, a guitarist I traveled with almost 30 years ago. The subject line read, 'So you married a girl named Beth, eh?'. The content of the message was a file containing the Kiss song 'Beth' that I sang at a show in Del Ran, New Jersey in 1981. Whether or not I had any business singing could be the subject for another's blog. The truth of the matter is, I was doing what I love, playing music.



It all began after hearing "Dizzy" by Tommy Roe. Between chorus and verse there was a 2-bar drum solo that owned me. Then there was "American Pie" by Don McLean. Whoever it was playing those drums was larger than life. I wanted to be that guy. So, I took two butter knives out of Mom's kitchen and began to beat on chairs, magazines; anything that would bounce a "stick".


The lady on the receiving end of my phone calls bartering with her over the drum set in the paper must have been worn down (she later told my Dad she was) because I secured my first kit for $75. I was now legit and at the age of 9 began taking drum lessons at Fullerton Music. For some reason I remember learning jazz and bossa nova techniques, but what I really wanted was to play rock and roll.


Most of my junior high and high school experience came through jamming with my brother (who is still very much at it on guitar) in the garage and through a few bands. At the time, the pinnacle of gigdom was playing on the senior quad during spirit week. I think we lasted 5 minutes until the assistant principal unplugged our shot at glory. It was a brief but great experience!


During that time in life, though, interests and passions are regularly compared to others; what they do, how they appear,what they think of us and what is deemed cool by the masses. The "greener grass" syndrome often prevails. And from that day on the senior quad as the drummer for Arabesque, I gained a nickname from one classmate, drummer boy. He took it as his responsibility to frequently suggest that I was only in the band because of my brother or that I was holding the rest of the band back. He drove me nuts!


After high school, actually the day of my graduation, I caught a plane to Columbus, Ohio to begin a 3-year global jaunt playing music nearly every day which included USO tours overseas, occassional gigs in Vegas and Tahoe and our groups' bread and butter, school assembly shows. I realized that my time spent behind the kit was paying off.


At the conclusion of the tour that summer, I was running to catch my connection in O'Hare airport for a short break at home. In a great mass of people, I began to hear my name called. I waited for its source and up came my friend from high school, drummer boy! I asked what he was doing. He said he was coming back from basic training. He asked me. I told him I was headed home after a tour to Canada with my band. We spoke for a moment then went our separate ways.


That was a long, long time ago, but it taught me to pursue that which I love. Playing music continues to be one of those things at the top of my list. In fact, I have to go load my drums for a wedding reception tonight with the band. . .

Looking Ahead to Past Glory

The drive-in movie brings back many memories for me as a child. My parents would make a large bag of popcorn, load me and my two brothers into the station wagon and head to see the latest cinematic offering. One film in particular that stands out is The Sound of Music. What intrigued me most were the sights of this old European town with its castle sitting high above the village below, the surrounding Alps and the vast von Trapp estate with that cool gazebo in the backyard!

I have had the opportunity to visit Austria on two occassions (there goes that travel thing again); the first time on a senior-year college trip and again as the host of a ski trip to Innsbruck as a travel agent. Each time brought excursions to Salzburg, the home of Mozart's birth and the von Trapp family. Interestingly, the von Trapp estate in the film is actually two large residences; one for the scenes showing the front and another for the scenes in the back. Since the filming of the movie which premiered in 1965, the gazebo had been purchased by American Express and moved to a small park for the benefit of access for American Tourists (I have a picture somewhere. . .). The familiar cobble stone walkways in the "Old Town" of Salzburg returned to my memory in scenes from the current film "Knight and Day". Incidentally, while being the 4th largest city in Austria, Salzburg is known as one of the best preserved cities in Europe. It remains an alluring combination of modern shops and restaurants in the quaint setting of old world charm.

On my first trip to Austria I was given the responsibility of coordinating ski rentals at a local shop in Innsbruck for my travel mates. We were picked up at our hotel by the owner of the shop and taken to his store to be fitted with gear for our next days' alpine adventure. I would like to think that we were taken to a centuries' old tyrolean shop with thick glass windows illuminated by candlelight, but that would truly be a stretch. With skis, boots and poles in tow, the driver took us back to our hotel. Riding "shotgun", I had the opportunity to tell him of my intrigue with his country and the charm of his city; I thought I would love to live there. He quickly said, 'you know, you truly have it better in America. While our country is beautiful, our taxes are too high. It is difficult to live here.' As a college student, I could not fully appreciate what he was saying, though I have never forgotten what he said.

Lately, with the changes taking place in America and the looming increases in taxation, I wonder if over the next few years I, too, if given the opportunity to talk with a visitor from somewhere "across the pond" might respond to a comment about my home in the past tense; that ours is a beautiful nation but is a much too expensive place to live. It would truly be a shame to see our country, this nation of ignenuity, creativity and strength reduced to a place for curious tourists to observe a few icons reflecting greatness of days now past.

So, here goes my foray into the blogosphere. . .

To begin with, I must confess that, as far back as I can remember, I have been a fanatic for travel. It was forever set when as a child of 6 or 7, I flew from the Orange County airport (as I recall, the PSA terminal was a trailer) to see my Grandmother in San Jose. I was leaving my familiar world and entering the realm of the unknown. The entire process was intriguing; checking-in, boarding, the flight, the landing. Since then, I have even come to accept the hassles:turbulence, flight delays and baggage loss.

Wanderlust is not limited to the skies, however. At the age of 5, my family drove to Yellowstone for a 2-week camping adventure. With stops in Jackson Hole where I learned to swim, and travels through Arizona where we saw a movie being shot (McKenna's Gold with Omar Sharif and Julie Newmar), I gained an appreciation for the highway and the fact that, while it takes time, there's no better way to apprise the greatness of the land mass called America than by taking it in through the car's window.

Maybe it's no mistake, then, that my journey always seems to have included opportunities to hit the road. I guess I seek them out. Having been a musician, travel agent, salesman and always-willing vacationer who has embraced the packing of the suitcase, I still look forward to the next trip out of town. The perspective gained through the lens of my experience has contributed to who I am and I hope the wonder that captivated that kid waiting for his ticket in the PSA trailer never leaves this fanatical traveler.