bryan suddith dot com

For some time now I have studied what makes folks successful. I remember in high school reading both Lee Iaccoca’s Bio and the story of Sam Walton. I read a lot of Bios back then and still enjoy them when given the chance. These days I tend to read more about leadership than I do of monetary success stories.  In the last week I have seen a couple of stories of success that have peeked my interest.

There is this awesome lifestyle and brand photographer Leigh Caraccioli. I met her one time 6 months ago and have been infected with her enthusiasm and her photography.  Meeting her and Amanda Hite was like meeting two rock stars. You hear people say, “when I get famous I want so and so to take my picture.” I am pretty sure Leigh capturing you on film will make you famous.  I am saving my nickles now to hire her in the not so distant future.

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My dad was sort of an ambassador of truck driving. He would take his rig anywhere it would fit to tell people or kids what it was like to drive cross country. From the time I was born until somewhere in Junior High my dad was a furniture hauler. Household goods. He was the guy who would come to your house with a team of guys, pack your house, load your house, then take it to its destination. He was often gone weeks at a time.

I remember fondly, and clearly, 1978, I was finishing my second year of preschool and my dad brought his truck to my preschool. I can still see it, I remember sitting in his lap behind the big wheel barely able to reach the gear shift. He parked his truck in the parking lot, just like a sedan, and allowed all of my 4 and 5 year old friends to climb in, around and through the cab of his truck. Again in 1986, my brother and I had a BMX race in the Akron area, my dad had to work that weekend, a load of something or other had to be in Lodi on Friday night. Race day was Saturday. We dropped the load off in Lodi, picked up an empty trailer and headed to the race track on Saturday morning. Keith and I were the only racers with a 48 foot box trailer holding our two bikes, tool box, sleeping bags and cooler. One other occasion worth mentioning, 1988 or 1989 my dad drove his truck into the Cincinnati Convention Center to be a part of our Boy Scout Troops booth for a big Scout A Rama. People couldn’t believe it. Right there in the convention center was a rig for scouts to look through and learn something about the elusive Truck Transportation Merit Badge. My dad happened to be the  counselor for this badge.

So driving a 23,000 pound, 10 wheeled, diesel machine to an airport in St. Louis did not count as the strangest place my dad had driven to.

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Since 2002 when my oldest was still in pull ups I have been camping with my boys. What started as an overnight without mom has turned into a twice a year event for me and the boys and our friends. This past weekend it was 5 dads, 11 or 12 kids and a weekend full of memorable quotes.

Our format for camping is very loose. Bring a tent. Bring some food. Bring a kid or three. Have fun. No moms. No soap. Very few safety rules.

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This will be a quick ramble on a few topics.

Stay at home mom’s who become “lifestyle” photographers. I know about a half dozen of them. All of them very gifted photographers. But I wonder, is the business success more a function of new technology and dedication of time or of talent? Perhaps a combo of the two? I am not sure studio photographers will be able to weather the storm of this new swarm of “lifestyle photographers” who have a new DSLR in hand a free trial of Photoshop on their pc. Just saying. I am not disparaging the practice, I plan to use one of these photographers soon, I am just wondering.

Last week I had this horrible chest pain. Hurt so bad I cried. By the time wifey got me to the ER the pain went away. We pulled into the ER and I called my mom. She’s a nurse. I explained the last 40 minutes of hell to her. She said the pain and symptoms presented as a Gall stone passing or a Gall bladder attack. She suggested I go home and go to bed and see my doctor the next day. So I did. My doctor did not understand why I would choose to not enter an ER without pain at 10:45 pm and choose to take my chances at home. Have you been to an ER lately?

I could care less about Lost, 24 or Law and Order calling it quits. For the summer I will be watching Friday Night Lights and wondering when Sons of Anarchy will be returning. I am also looking forward to the new season of Mad Men. I am over the whole reality t.v. craze. Survivor included.

My Memorial Day weekend was too busy. But I completed a 5k. My first 5k in about two years. It wasn’t all that fun. But my body is thanking me.

Part of that busyness over the Memorial Day weekend was due to an ultrasound on my abdomen on Sunday afternoon. Surprise, its a boy. Well not actually.

Calling the Gulf of Mexico oil catastrophe a “spill” is like calling Katrina a small storm. Nothing was spilled in the gulf. A huge company was allowed to run amuck without checks and balances and we have a disaster. No shrimp in 2011 should be the least of our concerns. We wouldn’t allow our land drilling operations to function the way that rig was allowed to operate. This shouldn’t be Obama’s Katrina, in the same way Katrina shouldn’t be attributed to Bush.

Got a call today from some nurse tech. My ultrasound shows Gall bladder stones. Surgery is recommended. She gave me a number of a surgeon then wished me a good day. Hmm.

Still trying to decide if I will run a half marathon in the fall. Wifey will be running her 6th or 7th Marathon in September in Akron. I’ll decide later.

My next post “Son of a Truck Driver” part three will be up soon.

per se. according to Webster’s online it means:

as an adverb. :by, of, or in itself or oneself or themselves : as such :

per se. as an adjective. : being such inherently, clearly, or as a matter of law (a per se conflict of interest)

Lately this word has been a thorn in my side. Perhaps nothing larger is bugging me in the American lexicon than the misuse of per se. Well, maybe the assault of their, there and they’re by the Twitter and text community ranks a close second. But today we talk about per se.

Two short words. Or is it one word in two parts? Nevermind. Per se. Per se the restaurant was recently named one of the 10 best restaurants in the world. Which gives me 10-1 odds I will never eat there. I tend to dine at places that don’t make international lists. Per se the restaurant is a very tony place in Manhattan. Its an eatery, per se, that is both very expensive and a bit eclectic if you ask me. From its website

CODDLED SQUIRE HILL FARMS’ AMERAUCANA HEN EGG
Brioche Soldiers and Smoked Onion “Soubise”
with Black Winter Truffle Purée

What the heck does that mean. Each day the restaurant features two unique 9 course menus. Each course is very small, must be French, and is designed so at the height of the experience, the course is finished so you complete it at the apex of the dish. 9 times. huh. Sounds frustrating. Per se.

This little entry has all to do with a co-worker and a friend who insist on using the word(s) per se. One uses it still way too often and incorrect, the other just uses often. This former co-worker used the word so much I wanted to shout out each time she used it. Some of us in that cube farm of an office once joked what a great drinking game that would be. blah blah blah per se blah blah blah. DRINK. We never did. But we laughed. I once kept hashmarks on a dry erase board, she used the word more than a dozen times in a single day.

My friend uses it the word closer to its meaning. Which is better. But the sound of the word in conversation takes me back to the dreaded cube farm where the word gave us a chance to laugh in an environment where laughing was forbidden, along with sighing, talking, or enjoying life at all per se.

I am not a writer, per se, but rather just a guy who tries to find a way to laugh at most things, like bad grammar and overpriced New York City restaurants with trendy names.

Since I am more of a truck stop and burger diner kinda guy, I leave you with this:

“Ignorance per se is not nearly as dangerous as ignorance of ignorance.” ~Sydney J. Harris