I was watching TV with my dog the other night. She likes to watch. The movement fascinates her and she can actually tell what’s happening on the screen. Her favorites are sports, movies and of course, commercials with barking dogs.

It was a dark and stormy night. Thunder shook the clouds. A yellow moon peeked through a purple sky.  Suddenly, there on the screen walked a pale, ghostly character in a white t-shirt, stumbling along a railroad track, mumbling to himself. My dog went nuts. She stood on her hind legs and barked fiercely at this apparition. She was scared crazy and she wanted to send this ghost back where he came from.

After I stopped laughing I realized how startled and frightened she must have been. Even though she forgot about it quickly, I thought about what could make me scared enough to scream bloody murder. And why it is that humans find it much harder to deal with their fear than dogs do.

Humans are scared of almost everything. We are scared of failure or success, of being alone or being loved. We are scared of being embarrassed or being praised, scared of too much pressure or not enough direction. Scared of being ignored and scared of being yelled at. Scared of being bossed around and scared of being too bossy. Scared of terrorists and scared of the law, scared of change and scared to change, scared of heights, scared of clowns, scared of life and scared to death.

As The Band sang, some people get stage fright, some are scared of the spotlight and some are scared with all their might. Woody Guthrie said that some people rob you with a six gun and some with a fountain pen. If Woody was around today he might include the Internet, because that’s where the fear really flies.

We’ve got governments fighting cyber wars and media hacking cell phones. We’ve got people carrying on affairs and posting the most intimate details of their personal lives for anyone to see. We’ve got brands being tarred and feathered with unsubstantiated rumor and innuendo and politicians spreading negative noise about their opponents that sticks whether it’s true or not. 

Which finally brings me to my point, which is that I like crisis communications.  Crisis communicators put out fires and calm frazzled nerves by gathering the facts and delivering them with honest transparency and compassion.  It is our job to keep our cool and remind our clients to keep theirs too. We need to temper our passion with precision and face our fear with the fierceness of our convictions.

Like my dog, it is the job of a good crisis communicator to help their clients learn to look fear in the face when they feel threatened or attacked. When we find ourselves stuck in a ghost story, how do we want it to end? Like my dog, can we make that ghost disappear? Can we make that spirit fly? 

On July 1, Pushkin Public Relations will mark 14 years since we were founded in 1997. I’m extremely proud of how far we’ve come during that time, but I think a celebration can wait for a more significant milestone like our 15^th anniversary next year.

For now, I am satisfied to pause and appreciate the clients, partners and team members who made the past 14 years so rewarding. From my first office in our spare bedroom at home, to South Gaylord, the Tech Center and now Larimer Square, every step along the way has been an opportunity to learn. We’ve grown from a solo practice to a virtual agency, but I’m proud to say that our work has been consistently driven by integrity and that our success is still based on hard work and commitment.   

To our current and former clients, thanks for allowing us to get to know you and help you communicate. To our strategic partners, thanks for the chance to create and collaborate.  To the talented team of contractors I am lucky to work with, thanks for letting me learn from you and for making me a better PR pro. It’s been more rewarding than I can say.  

Milestones are important reminders of where we’ve been and measures of where we hope to go. I’m appreciative of the chance to look back, and excited about the opportunities that lie ahead. 

Sometimes a break from the office is just what you need to change your perspective. I decided to get away. Far away. So I spent a few days on the Zapata Ranch, a working ranch in Southern Colorado near the Great Sand Dunes National Park. The Nature Conservancy runs it, and the people who work there really know how to live.

We spent a lot of time riding but also working. One day we rode the range for a few hours until we found a herd of bulls. Then we drove them back to the coral where they could do what they do best, which is impregnate the cows. Like any good cowpoke can tell you, you do a lot of thinking on a horse. Somewhere along the way I realized that those bulls were teaching me some valuable lessons. For example…

There is something to be said for the herd mentality. It’s certainly a no brainer. Just follow the dude in front of you and do what he does. Don’t think and don’t ask questions. Once in a while a young bull would break from the herd and blaze his own trail. Lo and behold, the one that took the road less traveled often ended up in front of the herd. Lesson #1: The ability to see a problem from a different perspective is a characteristic of a good leader.

Let’s face it, being a bull has its drawbacks. Basically, they get one really happy day when they get to fulfill their macho destiny, and then they end up in a tin can on a shelf at Safeway. As the bulls trudged off to their doom, we came upon a pasture filled with cows. Those boys sure perked up. They were totally focused on the moment. Lesson #2: Don’t stress out about things that are out of your control. Enjoy the moment and focus on the present.

The herd follows the dude with the most attitude. The chicks dig him and his peers respect him. Lesson #3: Good leaders display self-confidence.

Some bulls can be pretty stubborn. They know what you are up to and they don’t like it one bit. They are not moving, no way. Lesson #4: Determination is a strength. Being stubborn is just annoying.

Dirt rules on the cattle trail. To quote one of my favorite songwriters, Utah Phillips, “If dirt were a kingdom you’d be the king.” We’ve become a society that does not like to get our hands dirty. We farm out our dirty work. We outsource it to the people who mow our lawns and put food on our table and a roof over our head. Then we treat those people as though they are beneath us. Lesson # 5: Don’t be afraid to get dirty. Hard work is good for you. And never, ever disrespect the people who work so hard to make sure you don’t have to.

I learned a lot on the ranch. I learned to appreciate what you have and not worry about what you are missing. I remembered how nice peace and quiet is. I enjoyed the wide open spaces, good food and honest hard work. Hopefully, those lessons will stay with me far beyond the dusty trail.   

In a more innocent time, Memorial Day meant something special. For my father, a World War II veteran, it was a time to honor the soldiers who lost their lives defending our country. It was a time to fly the flag and pause to reflect.

My father’s generation understood why they went to war. They never questioned it. They never doubted. They knew what America stood for and they did what they had to do, even if it killed them. Then they came home and worked their butts off raising their families.

On Memorial Day we still honor those who fought and died but now we are less certain. More conflicted and less united. More divided, more cynical and less patriotic. Today it’s about long weekends and kicking off the summer. Big box sales and parties. Baseball and barbeques.

My father passed away on Memorial Day in 1991. So on this weekend I think about him and salute the sacrifices he and his generation made for their country. His America was different than mine but it still holds the same promise. The brand is a little more tarnished and the answers are not as clear, but when you peel back the politics and turn down the volume that stokes the fear, the values are still the same. Justice. Equality. Compassion. Strength. Courage.

Here’s to you Dad. I will remember. I will stand up. I won’t forget.  

I admit it. I’m still into comic books. I’m nuts about Superman, Batman, Spiderman and lots of other justice seeking superheroes. For what seems like forever, I’ve been waiting for Clark Kent to put on the costume and fly on Smallville.  Kal El has one more chance to fulfill his Kryptonian destiny and become Superman tonight in the series finale.

Superheroes always talk about destiny. They understand that there are two kinds of people in the world. Some of us wait for things to happen and some of us make things happen. Some of us are followers and some are leaders. Some of us like certainty and others are comfortable taking risks.

I’m not so sure I believe in destiny. I don’t think I was destined to own a Denver PR firm. I don’t know that I was destined to move to Denver or be a musician or work for a baseball team or run my own business. Those are all decisions I made along the way that determined the course of my life. I think I just made those things happen, instead of waiting for things to happen to me.

We make decisions and take the path that feels right for us when we get to the fork in the road. Some of it is planned and some of it is just dumb luck. The trick is figuring out if you prefer to follow someone else or pave the way. Do you take the path that your parents or your boss lays out for you or do you try to find your own way?

As PR pros, we often talk to clients about their objectives. What do they want to accomplish? What do they want to say? What story do they want to tell? It’s surprising how often the answers are not clear. They don’t know, or maybe they have never even considered the questions. They are waiting for things to happen to them instead of making things happen for them.

You and your business and your staff and your team all deserve the opportunity to determine their own destiny. To decide what kind of brand they want to represent or leader they want to be. It is important to create a culture that allows everyone in the organization the freedom to grow and improve and change and blossom. A culture where everyone is free to fulfill their destiny.   

As Spiderman says, with great power comes great responsibility.  Like Superman, we must use that power wisely to lead the kind of life and leave the kind of legacy we choose to create.    

Anyone who has been to a bluegrass festival has probably heard this joke. The band asks “Do we have any Texans in the audience?” After a lot of hooting and hollering, the band says, “Welcome to the United States.” Which reminds me of a story.

When I was a young musician I got a call from a guitar player in Texas. He needed a rhythm guitarist and singer for a Texas Swing band he was putting together. He had a six-month tour booked in the Southwest. Six months of steady gigs is hard to pass up for any musician, so when my West Coast tour was done I loaded up the van and drove from Oregon to North Texas.

We quickly threw the band together and started doing gigs in Texas honkey tonks. Picture that scene from the Blues Brothers with the chicken wire in front of the stage to block the beer bottles hurled by the unruly crowd. Like in the movie, we decided that when the drunk with a gun asks you for a request, you say ‘Yes Sir,’ even if you don’t know the song. You may not sound just like Merle Haggard, but if you are good enough, eventually they will start paying attention.

Until the real gigs started, I slept in the van while the rest of the band crashed in the guitar player’s parent’s house, who seemed to subsist on bacon and Dr. Pepper. The closest bar was miles away. It was hot and humid. I learned that in Texas, Rednecks are role models and guys are named Joe Bob. It was big time culture shock for a nice Jewish boy from New Jersey. It got worse when our six-month contract was cancelled after the first month. I couldn’t wait for my chance to escape back to the cool blue North.

I think about that when I hear about the “culture wars” going on in America. Tempers flare over budgets. Southerners seem to glorify the Civil War. Arguments rage over immigration, abortion, education and unions. Our failure to understand another group’s culture makes it impossible to see the good in them. It’s hard to hear what someone is saying above all the shouting. We become exclusive instead of inclusive. It makes us narrow minded and dumb.

The truth is that when I look back on my time in Texas I remember that the band was actually good. I met some great musicians and some good people. They liked our music. I saw a world I never knew existed and explored thousands of miles of the American Southwest.   

As Denver PR pros, our job is help our clients understand that it is important to respect the people they want to communicate with. If you don’t try and understand another’s culture, how can you know if what you are saying to them is relevant? How can you grow your business if you are running in place? How can you lead when you don’t understand the people you ask to follow you? 

In life or in business, if we are too rigid to understand another point of view we can’t learn or evolve. We can just stay stuck, surrounded by people who are just like us.

You don’t have to sound exactly like Merle Haggard to be a good country singer. You just have to feel what Merle feels. If only culture shock led to a deeper understanding of other cultures instead of an urge to run away. Maybe we just need to temper our experience with some perspective.    

Then they won a championship and the team replaced its marketing department with a new group of slick talking suits. That’s when things changed. Instead of “partnership,” the slick talking suits began using words like “it’s just business” to explain that they went behind your back to a competitor and signed the competitor to a bigger deal without having the courtesy to let you know about it first.

The ethical approach would have been to call you and say, “We’ve been approached by one of your competitors, how do you feel about that?” Instead, they informed you after the fact in an email because they didn’t have the decency to discuss it with you face to face.

Now I am far from naïve. I’ve worked for professional sports teams. I know that the business of sports is not always ethical. But the lack of ethics demonstrated by the Vapids was so galling because the foundation of my client’s business is based on one simple value: integrity. It is the essence of their brand and the strength of their relationships. It may sound old fashioned, but things like your word and your handshake are still important to my client. They understand that empty promises are bad for business and that trust is as important as profits.

Slick sales talk may impress some people, but it takes substance and character to sustain a strong reputation. Once people look behind the curtain you better have something they can count on. Otherwise you are just a fake wizard in a nice suit, as worthless and phony as a ponzi scheme.