It's one of those idyllic early evenings, and I'm driving Elizabeth to a lacrosse game. Zero humidity. High puffy clouds and a cool breeze on the ground. Elizabeth asks from the back seat, "Dad, do you think in a couple of years you'll be able to get a new ---?"
I cannot make out the last word, so I guess... "Will I be able to get a new job?"
"No. Not a job. A dog!" She adds, "You're already building a new job."
"You think?"
"Actually, you're growing a new job."
Aha! My farm phase is harrowing its way into my kid's consciousness. If only I could get her to come and visit. "It would be fun to get a new dog."
"If you lived on a farm, maybe you could get a horse."
"Maybe," I tell her, thinking to myself that dreams and hope are the cornerstones of a child's innocence. I decide not to tell her that I sometimes dream similar dreams: a hard-working, noble trail horse. One that would allow us to explore the farthest corners of the farm. I dream of the empty barns, slowly filling with new generations of animals. As I work the field by the older barn, I imagine the sound of hundreds of lowing cattle making their way back for milking. The silence at Wychwood is, more often then not, broken only by my imagination. That or the puttering of Farmer Brown's utility cart.
I imagine, though, that gradually, skill, imagination and productivity may create new jobs for new friends. Yet, I can't really explain to Elizabeth that this is not my farm, that I need to do one or two things very well before anyone is about to listen to new ideas.
Everything is quiet for a few minutes. I drive and I think about a yoga instructor once explaining to a class that a Beginner's Mind is the best state of mind in which to master the unfamiliar. With a beginner's mind, there is no fear, only opportunity.
Although I have so far to go, so much to do, I can see how this incarnation is taking on a life of its own. It is a fragile life, a life of promise and potential. Yet there are many tangibles. For example, today I talked to Carol, the graphic designer I have worked with over the years, the one who designed my Mystic Chips logo and packaging. The classic design... the one before Utz changed it. And yet, they kept the original logo... placed it on the back of the bag.
I explain to Carol that I need a logo, some sign concepts for the Farm Stand, and label concepts for glass jars. Afterwards, I talk with a trademark attorney about trademarks for several concepts, and I speak with my old food scientist friend, Barbara, about some product concepts. Barbara is a talented, albeit retired, food scientist. I worked with her for ten years in the soup business during the 1980's.
Isn't it strange? every time I feel this urge to start something new, I call my old friends and colleagues. They're usually in a different stage of life, and it feels to me like one of those super hero movies, usually a sequel. The one, younger, brash super hero is trying to convince the others to come fight an evil villain.
Sometimes they do.
Sometimes they don't.
I feel pretty good about my friends. And so, with nothing left to do, I go to the farm, and plant a flat of red salvia.
No comments:
Post a Comment