My 2020 in Photos
My year started with the John Moreland concert in Rockford, Illinois, in January with Susan aka @wiredlotus, and friends. After that, I was certain my 2020 would be filled with live music, of course 2020 had other plans. I did manage to see the Waco Brothers in Chicago just days before lockdown.
Turning 60 in quarantine could have been a downer, but Susan decorated our home so it could not only be seen throughout the neighborhood but from the space station. And can we talk about that blueberry birthday pie?
Waiting on our friend Ruth at Union Station, one of our few visits during the quarantine. Playing a small role in Susan and Ruth’s painted rock project. Learning the latest technology while working from home. Guiding Roy through his training regimen. And discovering that real men wear #shihtzus.
The sky, trees, and moon are always a comfort for me, especially this year. Much moon-watching in 2020.
Nature was one of my big 2020 remedies. Wonder walks with Susan along the Fox River. All the activity around our bird feeder outside my home office window. Our burgeoning ghost lily garden. And Susan even coaxed my favorite flower, echinacea, to grow in our front yard garden.
This was the year of the dog. Susan, Dino, Lucy and I welcomed Roy and LuLu to our pack and @luckypupdog even dropped in for a quick visit.
Finally, it’s the people that matter most. And although this was a year of isolation, so many connections helped narrow the distance. My partner, quarantine buddy, and barber @wiredlotus is my salvation. I loved assisting her with her jewelry classes, first in person, then via @zoom. Not to mention her virtual appearance on @jtv. So many great adventures with her this year. And I treasure the quick but precious visits with @jonbrollin and @kayleighg__ here and in Texas.
The Last Moon of 2020
During times both good and challenging, I always return to the moon. Maybe it’s something about the permanence and predictability that’s helped make the moon my anchor. No matter what’s happening in my life or in the world, the moon rises. It’s no surprise that in 2020 I spent even more time looking at the moon.
So, last night on New Year’s Eve, I visited the moon one last time for 2020, about an hour before midnight. It’s the big bright ball that never drops, and that helps keep me going.
What are your anchors, the people, places, or things you return to in good and challenging times?
Follow me on Instagram to see more of my moon photos (and dog photos and food photos…).
The moon over East Dundee, Illinois, December 31, 2020.
A New Year's Prediction: Who Knew? Who Knows?
As we get ready to say, “goodbye" (good riddance?)" to 2020, it’s tempting to make predictions about what 2021 holds in store. But one year ago, could any of us have imagined most of what’s taken place the past 364 days?
On a call with colleagues earlier this year, we reflected on six months of remote work and speculated on what might be next. I summed up my feelings by saying, “Who knew? Who knows?”
I’ll stand by that statement as my prediction for 2021. While I can’t control what will happen, I do have a say in how I’ll handle what’s next. I intend to meet the new year with an open heart and an open mind. Kindness, resilience, empathy, and patience will be my guide words.
And I’ll start with a new year’s wish to you for peace, comfort, health, and loving-kindness.
2020: My Year in Remedies
What’s helped you get through this year? I came up with a number of coping tactics and escapes in 2020. I call them my remedies. I started to seek some of these remedies before I knew about COVID-19. in November 2019, my mom died after more than 101 beautiful and graceful years on this planet. A few weeks later, we said “goodbye” to Daisy, our beloved dog of 14 years. The remedies that helped me through those losses were familiar ones: family, music, and poetry.
While still dealing with the losses of late 2019, COVID-19 began its spread and we hunkered into quarantine. I knew I would need to seek more remedies. Here’s a list of the people, places, and things that helped get me through 2020. I suspect many will help me through a good portion of 2021 too. As we wrap up this year and unwrap the next one, I’ll share details about some of these remedies — favorite books, favorite music, and favorite memories of 2020 — in the days ahead.
Mike’s 2020 Remedies
Dogs
Books
Music
Drawing
Writing
Local businesses
Farmer’s market trips
Food
Nature
The moon
Bird watching
And most of all, my family
Despite changes and challenges, I’ve been fortunate and I’m very grateful to be where I am at the end of this unusual year. I hope you are doing well, all craziness considered. I’d love to hear what’s helped you get through 2020.
Dogs, one of my 2020 remedies. What helped get you through this year?
Deer in the Dark
You never know what you’ll find when you take your dogs out for that last walk of the night, or what might find you.
We had storms rolling in last night, so I hustled the dogs out for their last walk before bedtime. Lucy and Lulu, the little ones are easy, I just let them out behind the gate, but I leash Dino and Roy and take them to the side yard.
Dino was first. As soon as I got him out past the gate, he started to growl and circle and wanted to go back. Dino has two alert behaviors. When he barks and moves forward, it means he spies or smells something that warrants further attention. A squirrel or chipmunk, perhaps. When he growls and retreats, I pay attention. We kept close to the gate entrance so he could finish his business, then I hustled him and the two littles inside. I still had to take care of Roy, our three-legged, almost eighty-pound hound mix.
I leashed Roy and grabbed a flashlight. At least I’d be able to see what we were walking into. Roy doesn’t typically alert in the dark. He just bounds forward. It may be that he’s not easy to surprise after all his time spent in the Tennessee woods before we rescued him.
Lightning flashed in the distance as I walked Roy toward the side yard. I scanned the flashlight left. Nothing but trees. I flashed the beam in front of us. More trees. Then I moved it right to Roy’s “go-to” spot. A big buck stood tall and regal less than ten yards from us. I didn’t take the time to count his points, but he was easily the biggest specimen I’d seen on the hill this season and his gaze was fixed on us.
I’ve been chased by a buck while trying to navigate dogs on leash before and didn’t look to relive that experience, especially in the dark on the cusp of a storm. The thing about bucks this time of year, they act like they own the place. And even though I can produce the deed, they’re adamant. Roy and I retreated. He could make like the little ones behind the gate tonight.
Not long after, safe and warm inside with all dogs, the storm hit full force, wind, thunder, lightning, and driving rain. I thought about the buck and wondered where he sheltered. I thanked him silently for allowing Roy and me a graceful retreat from our nighttime encounter.
Roy, my fellow deer finder (Mike Barzacchini photo).
Graveyard Walk, a story for Halloween
In 1982, our local newspaper held a Halloween story contest. “Graveyard Walk” took the third-place prize, two tickets to John Carpenter’s Halloween III: Season of the Witch. Every few years, I pull the story out and rework it a bit. The story reminds me of those late fall days walking home from school in the fading sunlight, imagining ghosts behind the bare trees. Here’s “Graveyard Walk” 2020.
The Prayer of My Life
Each day, and especially today, I reflect on The Prayer of Saint Francis, also known as the Peace Prayer, which serves as one of my life’s guideposts.
October 4 is the Feast Day of Saint Francis of Assisi. Each day, and especially today, I reflect on The Prayer of Saint Francis, also known as the Peace Prayer, which serves as one of my guideposts.
I’d been aware of the prayer since attending Catholic elementary school, but it first deeply resonated with me when my high school catechism teacher “gave” the prayer to me, saying, “This is your prayer.” I believe she was giving me a prayer for my lifetime, a guide, and a goal to aspire to.
One thing I like about this prayer is that I’m not asking God for something. I’m asking God to help me do something: To be an active source of love, forgiveness, faith, hope, light, and joy.
The prayer explains that I have the agency for change. I can positively impact what’s three feet around me and the people I encounter during my day. There’s a core idea in the prayer that aligns with one of my other guiding principles, the Golden Rule: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” But the Prayer of St. Francis goes a step further by asking me to initiate the love.
When I think about the second stanza and our current national climate, the line that resonates with me is, “Grant that I may not so much seek to be understood as to understand.” Deeply listening, not just waiting for my turn to speak, having empathy and compassion for others — when I’m at my best as a spouse, parent, friend, or team member, I’m flexing these powerful muscles.
I have copies of the Prayer of Saint Francis throughout my house, where I work, read (I even have it on a bookmark), and rest. I try to keep it present in my head and heart to remind me that while I’m here I need to take action to make my part in this world as good as I possibly can in even with the smallest, most intentional ways. Most days I fall short, but this prayer is also an encouragement. Tomorrow, another chance to do better, and here’s how.
The example of St. Francis also reminds me to get outside and experience the world. His reverence for all living things connects me to my most powerful church, the church of rivers, lakes, trees, birdsongs, and sunrises.
Before this pandemic shift, I had the fortune to spend part of the previous five or six summers in Boston. What an amazing summer city. It was on one of those visits during my traditional amble around the North End, that I wandered into a small courtyard by the Old North Church to find a weathered statue of Saint Francis. A visit to that statue and the small, quiet oasis in the midst of a bustling city has been a tradition since.
Though I won’t get back to the courtyard anytime soon, I will visit the church of the outdoors today with one or more of the dogs. We’ll feel the autumn breeze, listen for birdsongs new and familiar, and reflect on how we may start our week even in the smallest ways guided by the example of the Prayer of Saint Francis.
Who wrote the Prayer of Saint Francis?
Listen to Sara McLachlan sing the Prayer of Saint Francis.
The Prayer of Saint Francis
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace,
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
Where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is doubt, faith;
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light;
Where there is sadness, joy;
O Divine Master,
Grant that I may not so much seek
To be consoled as to console;
To be understood as to understand;
To be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive;
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
The statue of Saint Francis in a small courtyard by the Old North Church in Boston.
Enjoying the Ride
I’ve passed this field just after sunrise every week since late August. Each time I think, “I should stop and take a photo.” Yesterday, I finally did.
I don’t have much of a commute these days unless you count my trip to the home office, formerly our dining room. But on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I drive Roy, our three-legged foster dog about 20 miles roundtrip for training and daycare.
Each time, I pass a field of prairie grass, weeds, and I’m sure more than a few invasive plant species, cast in the bright glow of sunrise. Every day, I think, I should stop and snap a photo of this. Yesterday I did.
Roy has five more weeks of training. This means ten more times driving past this field. I look forward to seeing how the view evolves into late fall and perhaps the first frost.
This won’t be the last time I stop for a photo. It’s a reminder for me to enjoy the journey, no matter how strange and challenging the days and to start with each beautiful moment that makes up each day.
I hope you enjoy your daily drive or trip to your home office. What’s your favorite recent view of the world?
Happy Rin Tin Tin Day
Last week, I finished reading Susan Orlean’s Rin Tin Tin: The Life and The Legend. And from now on, September 18 will always be Rin Tin Tin Day to me. It was on September 18, 1918, that Rin Tin Tin, his mother, and littermates were found by in the war-torn French countryside by American soldier Lee Duncan.
In the book, Orlean writes about her grandfather’s Rin Tin Tin desk statue as a spark to her childhood fascination with America’s most heroic dog. For me, it was an “autographed” black-and-white publicity photo of Rin Tin Tin left in a desk handed down from my older brother. Only after reading Orlean’s book, did I learn that this photo was most likely of Rin Tin Tin IV from the 1950s television series The Adventures of Rin Tin Tin.
Discovering Rin Tin Tin’s World War I roots, learning my fascination started with Rin Tin Tin IV and finding out how the legend of Rinty continues into the 21st century were just a few of the surprises of Rin Tin Tin: The Life and The Legend. The book is as much about an American century, pop culture, and Hollywood as it is about the enduring love for a dog and the ideals that dog represents.
By the way, Orlean recounts how she was able to find a duplicate of her grandfather’s statue (spoiler). I only wish I’d held onto my brother’s hand-me-down photo of Rinty. Happy Rin Tin Tin Day.
Long live Rin Tin Tin.
Happy Birthday, Dad.
Happy Birthday, Dad. Though you’ve been gone eight years, I’ve never felt your presence more. And your lessons are with me every day.
Happy birthday, Dad. Today you would have turned 102. You’ve been gone more than eight years but in many ways, you’ve never been more present with me. You visit me almost every night in my dreams and we have the best conversations. Usually, we’re preparing for or coming back from a trip. Not surprising. You loved travel and adventure. You’re still teaching me about your many strengths: patience, grace, and kindness. Cheers, Pops, and thank you.
Al Barzacchini, 1918-2012
Berry Season
I think about my mom all the time. Specifically, in the summer, I think about my mom and berry picking. In July, we’d strap buckets to our belts, wield weed cutters and set off into the deep woods on the hunt for black raspberries. Trying to avoid nettles and snakes to fill our buckets with a sweet, juicy bounty that Mom would transform into jams and cobblers. I miss our berry-picking adventures, Mom. I picked these few today for you.
About Roy, It's Complicated
I want to share the story of Roy, our latest foster dog, but it’s complicated.
I want to share Roy’s story, but it’s complicated. Roy is our latest foster dog. He’s been with us for about six weeks. He came to us bleeding, just a few days after having his front right leg amputated after a gunshot wound. He was scared, in pain, and still needing more medical care. We held him and slept with him for days as his bleeding finally stopped and he started to heal. Still, he was on medicine and follow-up care for another 10 days. During that time, a bond developed between Roy and us. I’ve had dogs almost all my life. We have two wonderful, loving dogs now, both rescues. But no dog has loved me and been devoted to me like Roy. And he adores Susan. He’s also a deeply sensitive dog. He wants to please and he gives us those sad, deep brown eyes when corrected.
Remember I said, “It’s complicated.” Well, Roy at times has also been the most aggressive dog I’ve ever been around. Again, not to us. With us, he’s a puppy dog. But he’s shown aggressive behavior to our standard poodle mix, Dino, and to visitors to our home. When he decides to strike, it’s like a cobra. No warning. Quiet and lightning-fast.
With us, he cuddles. He kisses. He plays fetch. He does well on the leash. And we’ve made progress with crate training, “stay,” and reducing separation anxiety. He’s smart, food motivated, and has the capacity to learn more. But his aggression may not be something that can be trained away. It may have to be managed. That’s why currently we’re also working on muzzle training.
It may be that Roy sees Susan and me as the people who pulled the thorn from his paw. Regardless, his devotion to us is touching and our love for him is deep. We’re not giving up on Roy. But he also can’t stay with us indefinitely.
Roy needs a special owner. Likely someone who lives alone, or possibly just the right couple, with no children, and no other dogs or cats. Someone who will show him patience and affection, but will also be firm in continuing to train him and manage his potential for sudden aggression. Susan and I believe that person is out there. We just need to find them and connect them to Roy.
When we do say goodbye to Roy, I will cry hard and long. My hope is that these tears will be a mix of sadness and joy. Sadness, at watching this amazing indomitable dog leaves our lives, and joy because we’ve found that special person who will care for Roy and enjoy his companionship for many years. Even when we say “goodbye” to Roy, it will be complicated.
Mom Saves the Day (Again)
Here are two things about my mom: She paid attention and she was more interested in the solution than the problem, especially when it came to helping her lonely kid out of his funk.
Here’s a story about my mom. We moved to Richmond, Indiana, from Mansfield, Ohio, in July 1969, so my dad could take a job as Innkeeper at the Richmond Holiday Inn. I was just about to turn nine years old.
We left Mansfield the same day that Neil, Buzz, and Michael lifted off for the moon. I was moving away from my first real friends and life in a very-Bradyesque neighborhood. We moved into the Townehouse Village Apartments just off of East Main Street in Richmond.
It must have not taken long for Mom to notice I was lonely, probably moping a bit about having to move and missing my friends. Here are two things about Mom: She paid attention and she didn’t think long about problems before working on a solution.
In this case, the solution involved organizing the neighborhood kids up and down our street for a day hike across the field behind our apartment complex into Glen Miller Park. There must have been nearly a dozen kids, most of whom I hadn’t met. I’m not sure if Mom went house to house, meeting the other parents, finding out if they had kids near my age to organize the hike, but I can sure imagine this.
It was a sunshine-filled day and the tall trees in the park provided cool relief. I remember hiking a ridge trail over a dry creek bed at the northeast end of the park. We reached the end of the trail and wondered where we’d go next. Mom showed us the way, sliding down the steep bank on her backside to the creek bed. We followed, laughing and hollering. All these years later, that memory gives me a thrill and a smile. I can feel my nine-year-old self gliding down that hill.
I walked into that park a lonely kid and walked out with a passel of new friends, thanks to Mom. Thanks, Mom.
Thanks, Mom, for always blazing the trail for me.
Dino and Lucy, Fast Friends
It’s hard to reckon with all the changes of the past six months. Heck, even the last 60 days. It seems like Lucy has been in our lives forever. We started to foster her in early November 2019, just days before my mom died and a few weeks before we lost our bichon Daisy. It was quickly clear Lucy would be a “foster fail” and she’s been an amazing friend to Susan and me since. This spring also marks five years since we adopted Dino who was a foster from a rescue in Winfield, Illinois. What’s brought me great joy is how the two of them have grown close. They share a peaceful, sweet affection. Thanks, Susan, for these photos.
#TwinPeaks30
Twin Peaks debuted 30 years ago today and was the first “water-cooler” show I remember experiencing. It still resonates today.
Twin Peaks was the first “water-cooler” show I experienced. Twin Peaks’ first season aired on Thursday nights and debuted to ABC’s highest ratings in four years. I worked at a hospital in Dayton, Ohio, at the time. Every Friday morning I couldn’t wait to get to work to hash over the latest episode with coworkers. A few months later, when Susan and I began our whirlwind courtship, Peaks became a required date-night watch. Among many things that resonated with us from the show, the cryptic warning that “the owls are not what they seem,” became our shorthand for describing odd, mysterious, and sideways experiences from our own life. It’s a phrase we still use today, even more frequently given recent events.
Honoring Memory: Yours, Mine and Ours
We often remember life’s events differently. And that’s ok.
Photo by Dawid Zawiła on Unsplash
Something to consider as we gather with family and friends this Thanksgiving week to reminisce over old times:
Maybe you & I don't remember it the same way. We likely came to that moment with different experiences & expectations. Much has also happened since. Doesn't mean either of us is right, wrong or crazy. I love you & respect your version. Now pass the #pumpkinpie
— Mike Barzacchini (@MikeBarzacchini) November 19, 2018
Instead of debating the past, how can we best live this current moment on the path to making new lasting memories (even if a few years down the road we will recall them differently)?
Hope you have a happy, healthy Thanksgiving week, full of grace and all of your favorite goodies. — Mike
I'm Not Always Right (And That's A Good Thing)
Often being wrong (and admitting it) leads to greater things.
Meet Lucky Girl, the world’s most adventurous dachshund.
I’m not always right. And that’s a good thing. Because if I was always right, Lucky Girl would never have come into my life.
When our son, Jonathan declared his intentions to get a dachshund a few days before Christmas 2017, I quickly came up with all the reasons why he shouldn't.
You travel too much to care for a dog. It's just before Christmas -- a terrible time to get a puppy. We don't know anything about Dachshunds. I've read they take special care and can be hard to train. We already have two dogs. When we're watching your dog, we'll have three in the house. Too many!
And so on.
Thank goodness, he didn't listen to me. Jonathan's persistence in knowing and following through on what he wanted led to Lucky Girl coming into our lives.
And despite all my resistance and logical arguments, the moment that little nine-week-old ball of fur and energy entered our home I was love struck. The laughs, love and stories she's given us in just over a year outshine any objections and apprehensions I may have had.
Lucky Girl on squirrel watch.
What I've enjoyed most is watching our son and this dog bond. Lucky likes Susan and me well enough. But to say the sun rises and sets for her in Jonathan would be an understatement. There's something about seeing someone, or in this case some critter, love Jonathan unconditionally that makes my heart soar. It's so cool to see how he's made her a part of his life and adventures.
I should have seen this coming. When Jonathan was a young angler, we encountered a fisherman and his loyal dachshund on the banks of Buffalo Creek. The dog was fully engaged in helping his owner land the big catfish on his line. This left an impression on Jonathan.
Later, while in high school, Jonathan worked as a kennel assistant for a local veterinarian where he bonded with Roxie the Doxie. She’d leap into his arms when he opened her crate to feed her and he’d have to carry her (happily, I might add) during the rest of his rounds. You might say he was doxie-smitten long before I knew it.
Now he has his constant companion and we get to enjoy Lucky when he’s in town. We even granddog sit on occasion.
The joy of having Lucky in our lives, the joy of seeing our son and his pup living out their happy adventures make me realize that I hope I'm wrong like this more often.
(This post was originally published on July 17, 2019, on my Blogger site.)
We're Telling Stories in Remarkable Times
We’re telling stories in remarkable times. How do your stories engage the five generations of audiences who are alive today?
Five generations of audiences. Pew: Generations and Age
As marketers and communicators, we live in remarkable times. This is true for many reasons. But there's one that I spend a lot of time thinking about. We’re communicating and engaging with five generations for the first time in history.* Pew: Generations and Age
Mix in deep, rich cultural, economic, educational and technological diversity. The result? There have never been more niche and micro markets. And that will only continue. It's an exciting time to be a marketer and communicator.
At least, “exciting” is how I choose to view it. What’s your word for today’s hyper-niche marketing landscape? And what are you doing to reach these five generations with your storytelling?
Mom has always been my greatest audience.
*Actually, I’m engaging with six generations. My mom, Millie Barzacchini, born in 1918, is still alive, smiling and very engaging. Anyone know what we call the generation before the "Silent" one? It’s “the Greatest Generation.” And if you ever meet my mom, you’ll agree.