A Study in being Abroad

Posted on by Andy

Like all people everywhere contemplating writing anything longer than a sentence, we hoped to outsource this year’s note to ChatGPT. We threw the LLM 21 years of holiday letters and told it to:

  1. Derive our family themes
  2. Choose who it would prefer to be stranded on a desert island with and, while you’re at it..
  3. Tell us WTF is going on in the world/is this a simulation after all?

Read to the end, and you might discover some answers to these equally-important questions.

Our 2023 family sabbatical was a 10-day Galapagos vacation, which – for Jennifer – was the equivalent of 10 months at home. Significantly, it was on a boat. Adult-parenting lends itself to childhood-fear amnesia. Thus, we were two days in when Devon reminded us of his relevant aversion: he doesn’t like boats1. Devon left early. Jennifer favors destinations featuring abundant manicure options – so she also struggled but went the distance. Because she is tough.

The Galapagos are home to many many types of iguanas. To some, they all look the same, but they are not. Also, tortoises and turtles are totally different and don’t mix them up otherwise your nature guide will look down on you and the lecture will last longer. And don’t get us started on the difference between seals and sea lions. Pro tip: they’re all sea lions, it doesn’t matter why. If a massive pipe bursts above one of your cabins at 2AM, you will wake to find yourself drenched in what you hope is water. Which leads to a profound nautical truism: water outside the boat: good; water inside the boat: bad. They say the Galapagos is one of those destinations that is beautiful but not easy. Truth.

Cooper is studying in Copenhagen. Living adjacent to Christiania, the open-air drug district, he’s acquired a diverse set of friends who casually enjoy heroin. He frequents the beach and certain sunny parks, due to positive attitudes toward toplessness. As a people, Danes exhibit whatever the opposite of body dysmorphia is. Consistently tall with unbelievable cheekbones, it takes a visitor some time to adjust to a country entirely composed of extra-calm supermodels. Cooper is coping.

Devon is studying in Florence, and enjoys considerable beach time for identical reasons. He enjoys travel with friends, having recently flown from Geneva to Turkey to Greece by way of Romania. If you need help with your travel plans, you might call someone else. Please enjoy a recap of his trip in the appendix below.

Téa Sloane is laser-focused on college apps, and completely oblivious to anything else. Curious about the extent of her oblivion, Andy decided to gradually enhance Téa’s car. He started with a British flag decal in her air scoop, then a checkered flag license plate frame, then a personalized license plate (TSLOANE), followed by puffy flaming skull stickers on her doors. We haven’t heard a peep. Andy plans to step it up by adding hood stripes and while he’s at it, add hot-rod flames to Devon’s Hybrid Ford Fusion because Devon appreciates irony.

Andy and Jennifer will celebrate and possibly enjoy their 25th anniversary this May so are shoring up their relationship learning: 1) In every partnership there is a person who loads the dishwasher like a Scandinavian architect and another who approaches it like a raccoon on meth. Jennifer is the racoon on meth. 2) If you are too secure and comfortable, you become complacent; seek discomfort to challenge yourself and grow. This year, for example, Andy co-founded a new startup and simultaneously has seemingly physically regressed in age. Meanwhile, Jennifer became a certified death doula because she is so fun. 3) Manifest what you want to see in the world. Andy throws up in his mouth a little whenever ‘manifest’ is used as a verb but he would like to find his AirPods when he wants to use them. He thus labeled our overflowing collection of now mostly lost earpods in ineffectual self-defense (and proof that manifesting does not work):

  • “Astronaut Mike Dexter’s Airpods.”
  • “Dad deserves AirPods too.”
  • “Not Your AirPods.”
  • “Go Find Your Own Airpods.”
  • “Inspired by my Self-Starting Children who buy their own AirPods.”

As we look to 2024, we’re filled with gratitude for your love and wishing you accidental discoveries, movements you can get behind,
and nuanced insight on iguanas. With love, j, a, c, d and ts – plus Mackey and ChatGPT.

Appendix 1 – How to Fly from Turkey to Greece with Devon


Once upon an Istanbul day this Fall, Devon and his friend went to bed at 2AM to wake at 5AM – just enough time to pack, catch an Uber, and make it to the airport to board a 6:30AM flight to Athens, en route to Mykonos. Arriving at the airport just in time, they breathlessly enquired of a random airport person, “Where is the flight to Athens?!” She replied: “At the other airport.”

Realizing they couldn’t get to the airport on the other side of the city in time (who knew Istanbul had two airports?), they decided to find a new flight! But there were no flights to Athens despite the fact that it was 7AM and their Athens-Mykonos flight wasn’t till 7PM.
Devon texts us: “Bad news: there are two airports in Istanbul and we picked the wrong one. But the good news is that it’s not my fault because I made this same ‘wrong airport’ mistake last week in LA”. (He might be thinking that two negatives make a positive. In any case, the logic does not hold).

He continues: “Also, more good news is that the flights are super cheap. But the bad news is that they aren’t if it’s the same day”. They pay $600 for “only flight that goes to Mykonos.” So Devon lost the money for both of his flights to Mykonos through Athens, and has now booked a new flight.

It was surprising to learn that despite Greece only being under 350 miles away, the new flight involves two stops and mostly goes in the wrong direction. First stop: Romania. This is tricky because Romania shares a border with Ukraine, so there’s a bit of a “no fly zone” situation. Andy decided to ‘help’ by remotely booking him on a flight direct to Athens with extra legroom. It was cheap and easy! Ten self-congratulatory seconds passed before Andy realized that the non-refundable ticket he had brilliantly purchased was for the following month.

Devon and his friend wait for six hours in the incorrect Istanbul airport, best described as “smelly.” At 1:40PM they are off to Romania! At 3PM, Devon texts that they arrived in Romania and apparently all Romanian women enjoy wearing large amounts of toxic fragrance which serves to distract Devon from the enemy airspace concerns. He relays other observations on culture and women that should never be shared but we will include it here because he will never read this newsletter.

They wait an hour and board “the oldest and smallest plane” that still operates to Bucharest. Devon begins hyperventilating because the seats are so small and there is no legroom. Andy unhelpfully shared that his October flight has more legroom if he wanted to wait.

But they land in Athens and kiss the ground – no more Romanian women! They wait another hour and board an even smaller plane to Mykonos. Finally, they land in Mykonos, the happiest place on earth for 21 year olds at 10pm, only 17 hours after beginning their journey. Life is so rich.

Appendix 2 – ChatGPT-derived family themes (for those of you who can read till the bitter end)

  • Cultural Misinterpretations and Experiences where the family grapples with different cultural norms and languages. The juxtaposition of their American sensibilities with non-American cultures creates accidental discoveries and sub-par experiences.
  • Culinary Catastrophes: Jennifer’s adventurous yet frequently disastrous attempts at cooking and baking provide a lighthearted form of entertainment and horrible tasting food. These scenarios often lead to amusing family reactions and sometimes fire.
  • Tech and Modern Life Quirks: The family’s interactions with technology, like their use (and misunderstanding) of the Naked Labs Body Scanner or Dad’s fascination with gadgets, provide a humorous commentary on modern life and its complexities.
  1. The DSM-5 doesn’t have a specific label for Devon’s fear, and while you might think it’s somewhere between hodophobia (travel by boat) and
    megalohydrothalassophobia (large underwater creatures), it’s closer to cleithrophobia (being trapped). This sentence was brought to you
    without the help of ChatGPT. ↩︎

Where you At?

Posted on by Andy

Hey, it’s Mackey at the keyboard. This past year, time has taken on an odd dynamic quality that has me questioning my memory if not the entire nature of my reality. Lockdown and constant COVID testing seem long ago. Yet did I last see you last week or back in 2019? Did Zuck really rename Facebook Meta? People are now “back to work,” but are they really? Mask wearing got so normal that I started noticing people have really pretty eyes. Noses and mouths have since returned and, aesthetically … am not a fan. Is it possible to be nostalgic for 2019 and 2020, both?

Fortunately for me, this year’s “family sabbatical” was just a week in July in NYC. Humor-themed, the family scoured the city’s comedy scene. First stop was an aggressively-underground pronoun-curious club with no seating. The leading edge of NYC Gen-Z arrived ready to pounce on any performer’s offhand, yet cancellation-mandating misstep. Comedians had painstakingly crafted and scrubbed bits for this audience, one so attuned to the nuance of every riff and slightest micro-aggression, expressed or implied. The air crackled with impending laughter, anxiety and judgment (not in that order). The tiny bar quickly achieved mosh-pit maximum density, hostile to both the vertically challenged and the merely sober. A sudden wave of probabilistic dread washed over the family. They left abruptly to avoid possibly laughing at the wrong thing and suffering the consequences thereof. It was also stuffy.

Driven by Jennifer’s borderline pathological overconfidence disorder (“Trust me, I’m a doc, a prof, and I wrote a book on humor.”), they hit Caroline’s. Caroline’s headliner immediately zeroed-in on five open, guileless California faces up-front: “I see that the family from the Volkswagen commercial is here tonight.” The rest of the week was more wisely and less-intimidatingly spent e-biking Manhattan. Jennifer, only recently recovered from last year’s Hawaiian e-bike-meets-water-meets-broken-leg situation, got wiped out by a bike-riding DoorDasher who then yelled at her for riding with both noise-canceling AirPods in and heels on. Scuffed and smudged but otherwise unscathed and most definitely unbroken, Jennifer deemed the accident an excuse to buy a new outfit. Not new shoes.

2022 also illuminated a number of automotive truths:

  • SF’s parking lot hunter/gatherers will electronically locate your hidden laptop and effortlessly smash your window to get it. At an abandoned hotel they’ll flip it to a guy who wants to beat on it with an Israeli cracker then steal your identity. FindMyMac affords masochists a user-friendly way to to impotently track its progress to Russia (Andy).
  • TOW AWAY ZONE signs aren’t just decorative. The late-night Uber to a San Jose impound lot, the junkyard dog encountered there and the $1,000 fine make this most memorable. Persistent optimism has its limits (Jennifer).
  • The Mini Cooper’s British-polite low tire warning message may seem like just a suggestion, but it is not. Persistent optimism is apparently a genetic predisposition (Téa Sloane).
  • Side mirrors break off really easily (Cooper).
  • Sometimes wheels just fall off when you’re driving on the freeway (Devon).
  • It can take over a year to get your EV’s battery fixed, if you choose the right repair shop (Andy).

When not driving 3-wheeled cars with no clue what’s behind them, C&D are exceptional at beer consumption. After six years apart, they are in school together, in the same fraternity, and live across the hall from each other. They give me hope for America.

Devon is interviewing for internships, but they are mostly imaginary. On the upside, his imaginary opportunities pay well and have great benefits. Devon is the only member of Gen Z known to have contemplated a fake ID solely for tax purposes. An ID indicating he is over 50 would allow him to put the max $7K annually into his IRA. Devon spends his non-retirement fund dollars on sly prank items like a 30-foot inflatable santa, fake parking tickets and giant diapers.

Cooper has yet to start imagining plush internships, but his charm, wit and great hair have gotten him this far so why mess with success? Coop deployed Apollo mission moon art to make his room both stylish and celestial but has wrestled with independent living challenges: flat bike tire repair (grr! requires tools!), furniture assembly (more tools!), laundry (soap!). He’s looking forward to summer.

Téa also did a sustainable retail internship. A late-AM internship on a Wednesday. It was great but exhausting. She continues her love affair with “cooking” which involves mixing cereal, creamer and chocolate chips in a bowl but also onto the floor – leaving a trail of opened packages of Stevia, corn flakes, and matcha in her operating radius. Logic: anything cleaned up or put away might soon be needed again so why put it away? I have calculated expected value for each of my humans, scoring them by the likelihood of me getting food: spilling during food prep, compulsive refrigerator cleaning, or actual meal feeding. Téa is my favorite.

Beyond his focus on startup investing and advising, Andy continues in his never-ending quest to make the perfect homemade beer, moonshine, and non-alcoholic honey. AirPod-enabled Jennifer frequently dances in the kitchen to Macklemore, Erik B. & Rakim, and Notorious B.I.G., seeking to reveal profound lyrical truths and provide data for her research on finding beauty, wisdom and equanimity in life (“It ain’t where you’re from, it’s where you’re at.” — Rakim).

With love, hope and dreams of chocolate chips where you’re at — Mackey

Dog writes letter, hilarity ensues.

Posted on by Andy
dog in silly hat

Mackey here once again with the holiday note, a (hopefully) forgivable comic contrivance. Think Falstaff or Giuliani minus the dripping brown dye, a foil to permit the sharing of far-fetched half-truths, their source deniable, disreputable yet entertaining. Not only does this dog write, I also read(1). Recently, I devoured a new book with origins in the very household where I sleep (a lot) – Humor, Seriously – by Jennifer Aaker and Naomi Bagdonas(2). In it, I discovered the manifold benefits of levity, conducted a humor audit (more fun than the tax kind, marginally less fun than the food audit I conduct on the hour) and took a humor quiz to identify my style (I’m a Sweetheart). Pre-order the book, and my mom may take you on a walk too.

Circumstances(3) attenuated boys’ college trajectories and precipitated their decision to take an unscheduled gap year, leaving them with a metaphorical blank whiteboard for the year. Our literal garage whiteboard speaks to Cooper’s gap focus: Welcome to The Pump Zone and #GAINZ. Unafraid to ruffle feathers with his jokes or unsolicited coaching advice, he’s a classic Stand-Up. A triple threat, Cooper is an athlete, coach, and his own best cheerleader, laughing early and often at his own wit. Around the kitchen he is heard barking: “Put that down!” to people attempting dessert or a salty snack. It is odd to recall a boy who spent 17 years on a strict Yummy® brand dinosaur chicken nugget diet as he now deftly swats single french fries out of others’ moving hands. Cooper has other strengths too: his reluctant ability to acquire new skills (working for his cousin’s healthcare IT company, researching M&A targets, swearing at Excel), (2) his musical taste (auto-tuned rappers and floor-shaking weight drops after massive sets), and (3) his hair (good flow).

It sounds judgy to call Devon’s humor dark (he’s a textbook Sniper), but it does inexplicably incorporate a recurring Ted Bundy theme. Not content to remain among the family’s unpublished, he is in the final-edit phase of Checking the Invisible Boxes: A Survival Guide to the College Application Process. After devoting 18 years to the effort, he decided to commit to paper valuable insights and shortcuts before the otherwise useless knowledge of standardized tests and personal statement writing somehow (hopefully) un-sears itself from memory. It’s a gift of sorts to Téa Sloane. Unfortunately, at 15, Téa is firmly anti-advice. This doesn’t bother Devon partly because nothing bothers Devon, and also because she’s just the beta customer. Devon really wrote it for me based on Devon-logic that if he can get a dog into college, Téa should be a shoo-in.

Téa is a classic “Magnet,” charismatic, upbeat and fast-moving. She brings an aggressive, impatient enthusiasm to her cooking, turning burners on high and throwing in ingredients with wild abandon. With shouts of “Yolo!” last heard in a SoulCycle circa 2019, she brings the burn she feels to the kitchen. Her room is like the state of California, unapologetically heterogeneous, consisting of five distinct regions: (1) a bed with 6 different pillows for 6 different classes, (2) a lonely unused desk, (3) a damp towel heap, (4) a cereal dish pile, and (5) clothes mound (consisting of 50 identical t-shirts, 25 identical sweatpants, 30 identical bathing suits. Approximately 40% of the mound is “not hers” but belongs to friends “but it’s ok because they have most of my clothes.”) She has many assets: (over) confidence in her cooking, athletic prowess, shiny hair, impressive eyelashes and encyclopedic knowledge of The Vampire Diaries. With a flair for science and critical inquiry, she has recently been pondering questions: “Is there a Mr. Hyde in all of us?” and “What skin products do vampires use for that moonlight glow?”

The family sabbatical this year involved a two-week trip to Hawaii, which many of you are thinking sounds like “not a sabbatical,” “definitely a vacation” and “a damn shame they left the dog behind.” And you’d be right, but getting there required so many tests and forms and holding pens and receiving false positives and fainting at the airport and emergency quarantines, that it eliminated the possibility that any reasonable person would consider it vacation-like. Once finally clear of the decompression/decontamination/welcome to Hawaii process, they relaxed by working most of the time, which, in Hawaii creates a mildly masochistic vibe. When not working they swam with mantas, an activity during which small fish mistake you for krill and attack you while others on the boat throw up next to you. You pay money to do this. Dad also brought a mini-SCUBA kit with bottles so small that most of the time was spent refilling them; it packs away neatly in a black box that looks a lot like it should contain a sniper rifle. He was popular at the beach.

Your narrator, meanwhile, was curled up on my grandparents couch, a cocktail in one paw and a beach read in the other. Still 92 pounds thin and a fan of eating paper towels and rocks, I have a girlfriend named Cat. She doesn’t know it yet. Sometimes it’s better to just carry the capacity for relaxation and love within your own heart.


With love (unrequited or requited), levity and big woofs, Mackey

———————–

(1) I do not. I am mostly blind. Also a dog.

(2)  Great girl, my god-mom and also the reason I am not in China anymore.

(3) Codeword for the current global pandemic. I’m going to see how far I can get before mentioning it.

The View From A Dog

Posted on by Andy

Hey it’s me, your boy Mackey¹.  I’m a mostly-blind dog with a possibly over-developed and wildly inaccurate sense of danger. I can’t see, can’t run, and am frequently convinced that that thing moving in the distance beyond my nose is a mortal threat worthy of a red alert, but I can write². 

It’s only my second Christmas, but even I can tell that life moves extremely fast here. 

  • Téa Sloane is now a teen, and thus her response to any question is completely rational and proportional.   
  • Devon’s car hit Andy’s car in our driveway. Devon might have been driving and, perhaps because we were all there to witness it, it seemed to happen in slow motion. Teen driving is terrifying enough, but watching a new driver miss the shift from R to D and confidently accelerate broadside into another car that you own defines excruciating. If only this car-on-car action was an isolated incident; our Platinum Member Discount at Mike’s Auto Body suggests otherwise.
  • Coop suddenly cares about nutrition. For breakfast he now downs a health shake that only Andy is permitted to prepare for him. He doesn’t even trust himself. Andy’s just so-so at preparing his scrambled eggs properly (cooked not burned, fluffy not watery), so Jennifer is allowed that honor. Those of us who don’t already, will be one day working for Cooper.

The family moved to NYC this summer, which means that they lived there for 4 weeks and 1 day. It was long enough for them to do quite a few things that I wouldn’t recommend. 

For example: when you hear it’s Young Comedian Night at a bar in The Village, you immediately think ‘I should bring my 13-year-old girl,’ right? Neither did I, and need I remind you, I’m a dog. Ignoring both tingling Spidey-Sense and logic, Andy, Jennifer, Téa Sloane and our friend John³ arrived early to get a good table. Just before the opening act, Jennifer spots two friends solo on the far side of the club and impulsively dashes across the club so they wouldn’t be lonely. If this was on TV, this scene would feature arch music or strategic cutting to foreshadow the significance of this impulse and the impending cascade of doom that would soon follow. The first comedian takes the mic. “So, I’ve been told that there’s a child in the audience!” she says. Spotting Téa Sloane seated 15 feet in front of her, she waves, saying “Hello, child!” to Téa, who gamely waves back. The woman then launches into her routine about stress masturbating on the toilet with a hairbrush. Time passes. From across the room, Jennifer locks eyes with Téa, enacting a desperate yet encouraging pantomime which said both: “You can do it, it will get better!” (it didn’t), and also “Cover your ears! Close your eyes! Curl up into a ball!” By halfway through the third comedian’s lightly misogynistic bit about how thoroughly he disappoints the women he meets for sex on Tinder, and wonders aloud if gay dudes would be quite so judgmental, Jennifer issues the order to abandon ship. Wedged in among larger, appropriately-aged audience members, she used cocktail tables like stepping stones, cutting directly in front of the performer to reach Téa, then (figuratively) picked her up by the scruff of her neck and moved swiftly to the closest ice cream shop to ward-off permanent emotional scarring while furiously Googling ways to induce memory loss.

While Téa was riding the tides of parental negligence this summer, the boys were on deck to begin college applications. For the uninitiated, the college application process is like hell, but considerably worse. It is a forced march across a parched, featureless desert that you can’t even feel special about surviving, because literally everyone you know is marching alongside you. Any other experience this all-consuming and painful would be the subject of the college essay. Jennifer thought that being friendless and thus free of distractions, the boys time in NYC would be optimal for college essay inspiration. Also, it would be fun, kind of like writing a novel on the beach! They’d get done early and be ready to really savor their senior year. That Disney-esque idea was beautiful and 100% pure fiction. It’s December and the boys are still heads-down writing apps. People who study pain say it has two scalars: amplitude and duration. The ability to make painful things more painful by maximizing their duration is a family strength. 

Andy remains focused on entrepreneurship including a satellite business, an autonomous drone security company and a friend’s pinball business. Long able to justify the outlandish under a façade of work relevance, he’s now eyeing rockets, more pinball machines and a prototype microturbine jet drone. 

Jennifer’s book, Humor, Seriously: Why Humor is a Secret Weapon in Business (and Life), is progressing in ways that make college apps seem fun. Hitting Amazon right ahead of the 2020 election, you’ll also be able to find it wherever fine alcohol is sold. Because Jennifer teaches a class on AI for Human Well Being, and because Andy is Andy, they have both been serving as Technical Advisors on Artificial Intelligence and the applications of Quantum Computing for the upcoming Halo TV series featuring Cortana. And because truth is stranger than fiction, Jennifer will use some of  the Halo material to inform her class. 

Lots of love & Woofs, Mackey

¹ This is not Mackey. As you know, the kids traditionally take turns “writing” this holiday card, a cheap comic contrivance to say things that we believe, but originating from a deniable expendable source — like Rudy Giuliani. However, over time, the kids grew old enough to construct complete sentences and some of you began to believe that they actually wrote it. And you were amazed and a little star-struck by their talent which was flattering but also unwarranted because they didn’t write the letter. So, to be clear to the point of absurdity that our kids don’t write these letters, and to emphasize that they never did, we are going with a dog as an author.

 ² I cannot write.

³ John is an innocent here (you didn’t see him bring any of his daughters, did you?). He is mentioned solely for accuracy and to give him credit for his shared pain.

‘Ich bin ein Berliner!’ (2018)

Posted on by Andy

I am Téa Sloane Smith, and this is our holiday card.

First, big news on the dog front! After ten years of polite, heartfelt requests, we finally found Mackey, thus proving that either politeness or relentlessness pays off, and we’ll never know which. Rescued from China’s illegal dog meat trade (yes there’s also a legal one), Mackey was named for my grandpa’s WWII shipmate who helped get my dad into his alma mater, Pomona.

Grandpa TJ (right) and the original Mackey (center) Sweating out WWII in Saipan

He is also named in honor of mac & cheese my go-to food (a totally valid reason, back-off), and the classic Kris Kross song, Jump, comprised nearly entirely of shout-outs between Mac Daddy and Daddy Mac.

You kids need a gimmick, but it’s got to cost zero. (said a promoter)

Having tired of classically fun cities, we chose Berlin for this year’s togetherness adventure. We are big Merkel fans, and the parents share a Germanic belief that life isn’t supposed to be one big party, so we seek resilience-cultivating experiences just for the sheer stubbornness of surviving them. Even the German language is terrifying: “ich liebe dich” means “I love you.” Just read that twice before bed. A firm believer in self-administered second chances, my mom again booked us an Airbnb that looked amazing online. Stockholm deja-vu quickly set in triggering a creeping unease in each of us as we rolled our bags toward our Berlin home that first night. Slogging through the urban dark in the dripping shade of elevated train tracks, we weren’t surprised when our host’s instructions had us enter through three successive security gates and a dark, dusky industrial hallway decorated with “fuck off” and German phrases that looked a lot like “love you and miss you” (ich liebe dich und vermisse dich schon for you German learners!). Paralyzed by apprehension, I sought Mom’s eyes for reassurance that we would survive this walk. Confident in the knowledge that things were about to get worse, Cooper and Devon’s coping mechanism was to literally ignore the writing on the wall. Clearly trying to overpower her own sense of self-preservation, Mom pivoted into lecture mode (strangely comforting under the circumstances). She explained that Berlin was a rich tapestry of peoples with a cultural history of graffiti and that such self-expression should not be taken literally. Also, riffing a bit, she reasoned since they wrote “fuck off” rather than “fuck you” it should be taken more in the spirit of a collective invitation to be free and to not follow oppressive societal rules, rather than as a personal insult. Thankfully, by this time we had found our doorway.

For our first week, our German friends recommended two attractions:  a concentration camp and a Spree river cruise. Seeking to ease into fun-optional life, we started with the boat. As we approached the actual vessel, however, the boys started to tense up. In the distance we saw layer of smoke. On approach the smoke resolved into a vast sea of white hair. Playing to their punctuality stereotype, scores of German seniors had arrived 30 minutes early and were waiting on top of an old-timey ferry boat. Our parents aren’t known for their keen sense of “what is fun.” It’s a realization we live with but it still manages to surprise us nearly every day. I started to rub one brother’s back: “Don’t worry, Coop. It is going to be ok.” Despite the rest of us, our feet resignedly walked us on board where a ticket-taker guy asked us if we were sure we had the right boat. Devon visibly held his breath, squeezing his eyes shut – hoping my parents would answer “No.” Instead they showed him our tickets; ticket-guy paused a little too long on them then nodded in disbelief and lead us aboard.

The white hair sea up top was matched by another below deck. Our simulated smiles passing through were returned with expressions ranging from the German equivalent from “oh, mein liebchen, we are sorry for you,” to “welcome to das boot, the alcohol is in the back.” My parents bravely rolled past the pensioners at the open bar, and lead us upstairs (German seniors arrive promptly for the late-morning schnitzel, gravy and  pre-departure schnapps). Fortunately, we found the remaining seats were just in front of the only baby aboard, a newborn whose presence lowered the average passenger age to a mere 87. As soon as we cast off, the smartest human aboard, in a desperate last-ditch expression of what we were all feeling by now, began a blood-curdling shriek that it sustained for the duration of the cruise.

The key to life is lowered expectations. If you disagree, it’s because you have never traveled with us.

After a week’s vacation in East Berlin, we needed a break. We found one at The Soho House, a stylish ex-pat embassy different from the rest of the city in every possible way. We could start with the pervasive pulsing techno beat, or the periodic staff smiles, but we would definitely have to end with the full elevator that Milla Jovovich took a step into with us before deciding to catch the next one. Perhaps too late, we learned from the one local that grudgingly agreed to meet us there, that among Berliners, The Soho House enjoys a reputation somewhere between the Hard Rock Cafe and a Trump Casino. And that, my friends pretty much sums up our efforts to broker detente with our closest ally.

One Berliner @ the Soho House with Andy. Photobomb h/t Huggy Bear from Starsky and Hutch

One evening four years ago, while enjoying a nutritious Round Table Pizza dinner (which my mom ordered and refers to as “cooking”) we took a poll to see which of us  was the funniest.  We all agreed that it was dad. Second place was a matter of debate. I claimed it for myself, but Devon does have his enigmatic signature “Devon sayings” and in second grade Cooper was legitimately voted “most funny” by his class. However, we all agreed that mom was the least funny. Never previously finding herself at the bottom of any list and determined to change her ranking, she went straight to her office and locked herself away. Having finally formulated her plan, she emerged recently and is still a bit sensitive to sunlight. In the end, her plan was simple: she will write a book on humor (with her legitimately funny friend, Naomi). And then we’ll see who is most funny!(spoiler alert: still dad).

Yours, with humor, love, fun and meaning!

xoxoxo

Stop. You shouldn’t read further. This letter is already ridiculously long, but for those of you who are really bored or are reading this in prison and have questions about the Berlin club scene…

So glad you asked!

So, as super cool people do, I did some research to determine which club/s we might visit. It turns out there are two types of clubs in Berlin: one where kids could join and one where they should not and it is not clear which one is hipper. Berlin is a unique city where sex and drug education in schools commences in 6th grade, and at an extraordinarily advanced level. German teachers don’t mince words or images. Full disclosure is the norm. Though I’d recommend against it, an American of any age would learn a lot in a conversation with a 6th grade Berliner.

Insufficiently prepared to hang with German middle-schoolers, Andy and I focused on an adult club, one that could match our aspirational level of cool –  Berghain. Fortunately, my research produced extensive notes on how to get in (because as with Stanford, that’s the hard part).

How to get into clubs in Berlin:

Wear all black. Also, no button-downs. Not that you would consider that, but to be clear.

Go with Germans. If you don’t know any Germans, meet some, ask them where to go, then ask to go with them. Chances are that they will say “nein,” blow smoke in your face and walk off. But if you somehow throw them off their game, and they say “ya,” you have improved odds.

Be cool. Despite there being no line, be ready to stand by the door for a couple of hours. First, it is always busy inside. Second, that is what Germans do: they stand stoically.  And remember you are German, work especially hard on this if you have no Germans with you.

Pasty? Shirtless? Leather short-shorts with suspenders? Willkommen! 

Don’t talk in line.  AT ALL. SILENCE!  

No cell phones. I am writing this mostly for myself and not you. We/you can’t get “other things done” while in line. So no texting, emailing, and definitely no picture-taking. If you don’t smoke, now is the time to start. Be nonchalant and glum. Life is nothing except the contemplation of individual insignificance and the burning desire to express that in violent dance.

If they say no, walk away, they won’t change their mind.  Ever. Because: Germans.

Andy and I set our alarm for 6AM Sunday, as we were told that the low water mark / best chance for admittance was at 7AM Sunday I slid on my black pleather Spanx, which had the double benefit of looking super cool AND flattering.  Andy also dressed in black, complete with a Nordstrom’s-looking pullover. The logic was a) it was a little chilly out and that would keep him warm and b) Nordstrom’s hasn’t gotten to Berlin yet so it might create a novelty effect. I decided to not take my Tory Burch purse because research suggested that East Coast preppy wouldn’t fly well yet Nordstrom’s would strike the right note of collective, possibly intentional irony (keep them guessing).

We hopped into an Uber; the German driver took one look at us and did not stop grinning ear-to-ear the entire 10 minute ride to Berghain. (We are CRUSHING making Germans smile these days. It is barely a challenge).

We rolled out of the cab, and walked towards the massive concrete building in the distance. The former coal-fired East German power generating station emitted a pulsing, definitely non-funky beat that shook the ground. Andy politely declined all the friendly dealers who offered us an exhaustive menu of drugs.

We approached the door, only to realize we didn’t have any money.  I whispered to Andy, “Do you think they take AMEX?” Andy’s eyes and mouth suddenly squeezed tightly shut to suppress his reaction to my question as well as his frustration with himself for forgetting cash. We ever so casually turned around (in a glum German way, ostensibly to reconsider the drug dealer’s wares or life itself) in search of the nearest ATM.

We walked past all our drug dealer friends, who had clearly seen this turn-around-to-find-an-ATM-strategy before and offered us drugs once again because we might need them more now. We declined, but this time looked in their eyes and smiled because familiarity was our growing our friendship.

We walked to an ATM four blocks away, which gave us a chance to check out what other club-goers were wearing: not Spanx. Noted.

Andy and I made our way back to Berghain, excited (but not showing it) that there were only 2.5 couples in the line. We stood behind the five people in silence, ostensibly emoting a similar, acceptable level of cool and glum.

After 30 minutes, the line was starting to grow (apparently 8AM Sundays is when the 2nd shift arrives) and some 1st shift club-goers started to leave (all had sunglasses on, suggesting that inside the club it is sunny!). The doorman looked at the first couple in our line and let them in, and then the next person in – we were on a roll. But then, BOOM, the doorman stared at the couple just ahead of us and shook his head imperceptibly.The guy stared at him as if to ask, “Really? You aren’t going to let us in?  But we are so cool and glum!” The doorman glared back and took a mental picture as if to say, “you will never ever get into this club. Ever.”

Then, the doorman looked at Andy and I – all well-dressed with just the right amount of novelty – and slowly (but with ambivalence, you could tell) shook his head kindly. I gave him a sly wink and small smile, as if to say, “we get you, you have hard choices to make on a Sunday AM, and we are for sure not going to argue because we might come back and we are now friends, cool?”

It is not clear, but I am pretty sure he winked back. So, I wanted to share the good news that Andy and I FOR SURE HAVE A SHOT at getting in next time we are in Berlin.  And you can come with us!

 

Funny Ain’t Easy (2017)

Posted on by Andy

Devon here¹,
As you likely know, our family has singularly terrible holiday card experiences. This year differed but only by degree. This time it was substantially worse than ever before. It involved six weeks of our time, five card designs, four hired “helpers,” three full-scale print runs, two card vendors, and ultimately no partridge in a pear tree (zero actual cards sent). The spin we worked out was that we decided to go electronic to save trees, money and reduce our carbon footprint. And who reads our cards anyway? We found ourselves stuck however because we wanted hard copies for us and the five of you who don’t open email. So for the six of us, we created cards. However, it turns out not one of us looks good in the photos, a fact naturally only fully realized after the cards returned from the printer. Yet, at least a few of you said you ‘missed’ this newsletter, so here I² am writing you, possibly you alone, a 2017 update.

Three of our holiday cards that no one likes

Unable to achieve consensus on a family sabbatical this year, we embarked on three separate ‘kid sabbaticals,’ which are unique concepts that my mother came up with in her head – that magical place where there’s always time for one last email before we leave the house and also where everything is beautifully designed and executed. In “actual reality,” they proved to be whatever is the opposite of a sabbatical, and involved my parents shipping us 3 kids to 3 different destinations for 3 weeks to learn a skill, against our will. I was forwarded to NY to get a ghost of Christmas future’s view of unemployment as I trained to code for Ethereum in Starbucks during the day, and couchsurfed during the night. The couches were owned by people we know/love, so my housing wasn’t totally random, but the hosts didn’t really know if or when I was coming, so it was like Improv Couch Surfing with Friends (coming to Comedy Central in 2019³). My brother was shipped to LA to explore how to be an entrepreneur, and where he learned that making more money beats making less, many LA startups are equipped with slides, and JibJab is the best place to work ever (partially due to aforementioned slides). My sister was escorted to San Diego where she trained to become a yoga instructor. She kick-started her way to Prana Yoga, going in with a dream to be the youngest yogi ever, and left with a keen appreciation for how slow yoga can be without a phone, how painful stingrays are when surfing, and how much she likes her phone. Among the three of us, she, at least, came away with a certificate.

In other updates: Téa Sloane loves music, TV, and speed (the velocity, not the chemical). When she DJs in the front seat of the car, she painstakingly finds a good song, passionately announces: “I LOVE this song,” listens for 10-15 seconds and then skips forward pronouncing, “Ok, I get the point.” Fueled with this philosophy, she can cram 30 to 50 songs into a three-mile trip to school and 5 to 8 TV episodes a night between homework and her 8:30PM bedtime. Téa Sloane’s self-reported life goals (stated after watching Project Runway or any reality TV show) are to: “Have a black gay friend to help me with fashion and also with life.” And to “help boys/men understand that they have to shave too. It’s not fair.”

Cooper remains focused on golf, which he plays nearly daily with his best friend, Dave, my 79 year old grandfather, and tennis, which he plays every other day with his second best friend – Tom, Dave’s 77 year old pal. Coop remains enthralled with cookies and chocolate. He eats two Nutella sandwiches after school. Each. Day. Last week, my dad observed his Nutella sandwich/chocolate cake production and asked as he took his first bite, “What does that do for you?” Coop responded: “It gives me a brief sense of euphoria, followed immediately by a sustained feeling of shame and regret.” He is, in so many ways, an 80 year old man himself.

Me: I am focused on cryptocurrency, an investment I only came across because I thought the stock market seemed overheated. I threw some money at it a year ago and since timing and/or showing up is everything, I am now considered a visionary.  I spend a fair amount of time mentoring Téa Sloane, imparting unsolicited words of wisdom, and leaving things in her bed (cans of wasabi peas, fresh fruit, shampoo bottles) so when she wakes up, she can look at life anew, afresh, with wonder. Coop, in contrast, goes to Téa Sloane’s room, finds lists of things that she apparently wants enough to actually write them down, and then crosses off items he deems unworthy (e.g., “get Snapchat”). On Sundays, I work at the Exploratorium, where I excel in cow eye dissection and magic tricks, I mean illusions, as a means to break the ice with girls, I mean make friends. Coop and I still enjoy each other’s presence and do small things to make each other smile. In our entryway, my parents proudly display three professional portraits of us. In July, Coop changed my photo to a picture of Zach Galifianakis in The Hangover to see if anyone in our family notices anything ever. So on our wall, you see Téa Sloane’s sweet smile, Cooper’s twinkling eyes, and Zach Galifianakis’s belly. In September, Coop pointed out it out to me. Inspired, I changed his portrait to Dr. Evil and after some weeks passed with nobody noticing that, I taped Coop’s school ID to the frame. I like to connect the dots for others.

Not all in the family

My dad, who has never seen a new technology that he doesn’t immediately love, has been “trying to get smart about crypto” (his words), and we have built five mining rigs. They bear the names of his favorite fictional space crafts (totally normal): Jupiter 2, Nostromo, Serenity, Sulaco, Zero-X and Event Horizon. Even I don’t know what movies some of those are from. As you know, crypto is the collective eye-roll of our generation, but on the upside, with 39 GPUs running 24/7, pulling 150 watts each, we no longer have to heat our home.

My mom, voted “Least Funny” for the latest family yearbook, decided to teach a class on humor, ostensibly not out of spite. Some people teach a class on something in which they are an expert; this is like that, just flipped. So she and her humor-partner-in-crime, Naomi, and their (legitimately funny) team created a Humor Bootcamp which is a way for her, I mean others, to get their funny on – starting January 14th, 2018. Grab a friend and sign up here (not an ad, and ironically also not a joke).

Sending you warm wishes for a brilliant 2018, fueled by speed, Nutella, magic, crypto diversification, humor and love – Devon (penning for Coop, Téa Sloane, Andy, Jennifer, Jupiter 2, Nostromo, Serenity, Sulaco, Zero-X and Event Horizon).

Notes:

  1. This is not Devon. The kids never ever write the holiday cards. When we started writing holiday newsletters in 2002, this didn’t require a footnote, but lately they’ve gotten so old that you think they might command the impressive vocabulary and wit that we do and actually author these letters. That is not remotely true. Although if you’re super cool and not our friend, they could possibly add you on Snapchat or whatever comes next. Love, Andy and Jennifer.
  2. Again, not me. It is Andy and Jennifer.
  3. Not really.

Swedish Fish (2016)

Posted on by Andy

Last year we bucked tradition and sent you a Thanksgiving card to break out of the holiday clutter. Exit polls, however, reveal unintended consequences. Some came to view us as uninvited chaos incarnate unleashed on an otherwise familiar and comforting tradition. In others we conjured savvy, manipulative members of the liberal media seeking to sow feelings of inadequacy among others. In unrelated news, we can buy a smaller mailbox.

Cooper SmithIt’s Coop at the wheel this time, with a new strategy: (a) raise the number of cards sent to 400 to trigger the card reciprocity reflex, and (b) schedule their arrival for the actual holiday season. Mom, a fan of both efficiency and child labor bought into the timing strategy and,“hired” Téa Sloane to stuff, stamp and address the cards. Friends too. Playdate ⇒ Workdate. With panache, Téa decided to seal them too, without this letter. This is why lucky analog recipients found our envelope sealed, unsealed, stuffed, re-sealed, and taped shut (shades of Groundhog Day/Sweetwater). Fun x 400!

We continued what dad calls our Family Disruption Tour by moving to Stockholm for 2 months (Okay, 5 weeks. Close enough. Back off). You might be thinking, “Huh! All 5 of you are blonde, at least aspirationally. And you chose Sweden. So brave!” To which I say: thank you. Diversifying our cultural experience was a goal, but so too was learning a new language and making new friends. Unfortunately, (a) Swedes speak better English than we do. They also speak Norwegian, Danish, Finnish, and German. All of them¹. Also, (b) our arrival on July 1st is coincidentally the same week that all Swedes go to the archipelago for the summer.  All of them. In hindsight, we should have seen this coming. New Yorkers have the Hamptons, Norwegians have the Fjords and Swedes have the archipelago. So no people and thus no speaking Swedish, but on the upside, no lines at the palace.

Before we began our bold cross-cultural experiment in Sverige, we dropped in on Norway where mom’s totally plausible goal was to spend the 4 days arranging marriages for all of us. So we met her friends, Gry and Carl Christian Christiansen (real names) who had been pre-warned that we were visiting them in no small part because my parents thought a series of unions might be possible between the two sets of three kids. It’s not likely to work out, however, because their kids are (a) multi-lingual, (b) beautiful to behold and (c) able to skipper all kinds of boats and thus out of our league. Also, I am only fourteen.

On the heels of mom’s failed marriage alignment summit (which was plenty of fun for normal-person vacation reasons) we “moved to²” Stockholm where mom had booked us for the month at an Airbnb in Södermalm right above a techno club from a guy named Dimitri. After 8 hours on a train crossing the country, we arrived at the apartment (a 17th century 6th floor walk-up) at 10PM. The 3 working bare bulb lights combined with Renaissance-era ceiling height and floor-levelness sensibilities established a cool haunted house vibe. Above my bed was a framed picture of Hitler which, sensing the impending emotional crescendo already en-route, Dad quickly declared to actually be Charlie Chaplin. Despite Dad’s dictator/comedian repositioning, after taking it all in, my sister and brother (note: not me) began to weep.

You can decide who this is

I think there is a real lesson to be learned here: stay home. I mean, don’t let my mom pick Airbnbs.  I mean, don’t rent from people named Dimitri. We attempted sleep to the lullaby of the club’s thumping bass mixed with drunk Scandinavians yelling “Skita i det blå skåpet” and “Gå och dra något gammalt över dig” at each other. Meanwhile, sensing that we were in a nose-dive from an already low altitude, mom like some iPhone-toting McGuyver, activated two fixers back in the US who “Kerry Washingtoned” us out of there. Two days later, we rolled into a beautiful apartment in a quiet neighborhood. The owner who was a stranger then is now our among our best friends.

I spent the majority of the summer on the court with Leo, a 26-ish unfathomably deep and gifted former pro tennis player who spoke solely in Yoda-worthy sentences. Téa Sloane, happy in any situation, biked the city and practiced yoga with our six beloved au pairs (all actually blond, not just aspirationally). Devon walked the streets of Stockholm sporting a tasteful “I ❤ Swedish Girls” shirt that he picked up in a tourist shop. He completed the package with his signature raised eyebrow capped off with attempted direct eye contact with any girl that checked out his shirt, usually quizzically.

Wearing a heart on your sleeve is too subtle

I have to admit, the t-shirt + eyebrow combo is impressive. While no girl actually spoke with him, some confused smiles were exchanged and I think it helped to cement the American reputation of keeping it klassy. Meanwhile, dad spoke with entrepreneurs and VCs (often by phone because the VCs were at the archipelago with their families) and took us on character-building walks through the ghost city while my mom searched for opportunities to meet her quota of “sticky memories.” You’ll find one such episode below. It involves nature and kayaks.

We returned home and the rest, as you say in the US, is history. We have resumed our day-to-day activities: Devon has returned his focus to strategic listening + ninja-like insertion of deadpan conversational quips.  He believes these yield higher rates of retention and responsiveness from his audience, and he will spend the rest of his year integrating the lessons he learned in Sweden (re: the power of marketing through t-shirts) to convince girls to date him. Téa Sloane, who can do one tricky bridge backbend pose, plans to continue scootering down the path of enlightenment. Namaste. As for me, I plan to spend this next year brainstorming more ways to consume a mega-giga-flop’s worth of amount of streaming golf and tennis videos, interspersed with chiropractic how-to videos, which I believe are destined to reshape our technical and fiscal landscape forever. Meanwhile, our parents will plan the next family disruption tour.

We are grateful for the abundance we enjoy, for our Swedish angels, au pairs and friends, for all of you, and for all the love and light in the world.

With love, Cooper.³

NOTES

¹ We encourage you to try the app Duo Lingo. We didn’t, but our dad did. He found that these were the prioritized sentences to learn: (1) That moose is looking at me; (2) I do not love you; I love her; (3) We should visit her before she dies. Swedes don’t beat about the bush.
² If you ‘visit’ a foreign location you’re a tourist, but if you ‘move to’ the same location, you are a modern renaissance cultural sophisticate.
³ Many people think this is actually Cooper writing.  It is not.  It is Jennifer and Andy. None of our kids write like this.

Kayaking with Team Aaker Smith, An Appendix. (this is optional reading and should not count against us)

As many of you know, our family is known neither for a deep love or even for a complete acceptance of nature. Yet, because of our openness to new ideas and a documented willingness to change, we perked up when Clara (one of our beloved au pair alums) suggested we go kayaking shortly after we arrived. Tentatively excited, we changed into inappropriate clothing (poor clothing choice is a genetic predisposition), grabbed our flip-flops (what we like to call “athletic shoes”) and our iPhones (sensing that this will likely be a great photo opportunity and knowing that pictures of an event > actual event) – and called two UBERS.

Blazing past lots of cyclists and joggers enjoying nature, we arrived at the nature-destination where two guys (dressed appropriately and not wearing flip flops) invited us to listen to a few tips on how to use/drive/steer kayaks.  We joined a small crowd of people (all also dressed inappropriately) and pretended to listen.  (We think) the Kayak experts said: “The chance of any of you falling in is remote, but just to be on the safe side – we’ll give you a few tips.  If you capsize, just bring your kayak to the side of the water, take the kayak out, dump out the water and get back into the kayak.  Now, find a partner and off you go!” Not many in our family know the meaning of the word “capsize,” but we all understand the concept to “pick a partner.” Clara and Téa Sloane lock eyes and begin to walk towards a girl kayak. Cooper grabs Devon and race to a boy kayak. (There is no such thing as a gendered kayak; kayaks are neither boy nor girl. However, you weren’t there, so you will have to trust us that gendered kayaks might be a real thing).

Fueled by the knowledge that life is a race, the boys in their boy kayak zoom away faster than the girls in their girl kayak or us in our bi-gendered kayak (Andy got last pick and was lucky enough to be partnered with me). As a result, Andy and I didn’t have any ability to coach/parent the boys or reinforce the expert’s actual useful tips before they were already gone. (Coaching kayaking is similar to when I explain to anyone how to cook something, anything.  But that won’t stop me from suggesting ideas or reminding people of tips already expressed). Andy and I, conscious that water is wet, carefully step into our kayak as I photograph the entire thing (you never know if this will happen again ever). Andy proceeds to paddle the kayak slowly (knowing that life is not a race and also that we don’t really want to get too close to the boy kayak).

We spot the boy kayak 200 feet off in the distance. But what’s new is that we can only see the underside of their boat. The boys learned the cord “capsize.” The boys are nearby treading water and shout/laughing at each other as they grasp the top (of the bottom) of the boat. I perform emotional system check, and I find they are mixed. I’m proud that they are not actually drowning, confused by how this might have happened, and horrified that people might figure out they are Americans and/or our kids. Note: If you are having a hard time imagining this scene, it is simply because I am having a hard time describing it b/c it involves nature and boats. But let me tell you, their inappropriate clothing and flip-flops were not in good shape.

Two boys, one in a kayak, one in the water pushing, mother looking on proudly.
Cooper and Devon attempt Kayaking in Stockholm

Téa Sloane (paddling with Clara) whizzes by them in what appears to be an aerodynamic girl kayak, yelling, “See you later, suckers!” Andy and I slow down to help them because we are their parents and love them, and also because Andy stopped paddling. We began to coach them (finally!) to get to the side of the water-area, where Cooper somehow figures out a way to get onto a dock and then gracefully leaps back into the kayak full of water – while Devon arduously lifts himself, his jeans, sweatshirt, topsiders and Stanford hat back into the kayak – but somehow overshoots and off he goes into the other side of the water-filled kayak. We don’t really know how it happened, but the image of his two feet up in the air as he nose dives into the water on the other side of the kayak is now seared into my mind.   Continuing to feel the moment, Téa Sloane paddles back the opposite way and yells, “Again. See you later, suckers!” The boys finally get back into the boy kayak, paddle 300 feet, wobble and again capsize. But this time they are used to it, so it’s not nearly as shocking. Also, they are getting good at knowing what to do.  Resilience! But the big challenge is to figure out how to bring the kayak to the side because there is only a big ship and daunting cement wall on the shore. They have to think. Tricky!  They decide to swim to the big ship pulling their upside-down kayak along behind them.

Cyclists and joggers on the side of the road stop to stare at us. Andy again stops paddling, and I’m beginning to notice that he is purposefully keeping his distance. We are ok with them going down, but we are now increasingly worried about our reputations, just not enough to get cold and wet ourselves. This time, the boys are so good at getting back into their kayak that it only takes about 15 minutes, half as long as before. They paddle about 300 feet and capsize again.   At this point, (a) Téa Sloane and Clara have doubled back multiple times and Téa has bored of taunting them, and (b) Devon is learning and updating his strategy (change!).  He decides to stay in the water because he observes the kayak goes faster when he swims vs. paddles. This makes perfect sense because we raised our boys to be strong swimmers.  We have a hot tub at home.

Andy finally cajoles them to swim/paddle toward the pier to co-dump water out of their kayak. This is a game-changer and suddenly their boy kayak is nearly as aerodynamic as the girl kayak. We return the way we came (because we have only traveled 800 feet), and beat the girls back to the dock by three minutes. I mean, the girls kayaked about 10 times further than us, but I think the boys felt pretty darn sweet. So anyway, go girl kayaks.

Love, Jennifer Ps. I hate nature.

A Land Down Under (2015)

Posted on by Andy

Tea Sloane SmithThis is Téa Sloane Smith, penning our Happy Thanksgiving letter. In a surprising, debatably controversial move, I’m sending the letter out by Thanksgiving, thereby justifying the rebranding. I’m betting that by calling it a Thanksgiving letter: 1) expectations will plummet, 2) people will be less irritated by its early arrival, and 3) lack of temporal competition will increase readership.

For 2 months (OK, 6 weeks; OK, 5 weeks and a day. It rounds up), we moved to Australia. Why, you ask? Well, first, our parents favor designing for memories over designing for experience. As a result, we’ve had an inordinate number of truly awful family experiences. The upside: in 20 years there is a decent chance we will have some pretty sweet pictures to look back on fondly. Instead of hoping in vain that we might not need therapy, our parents are aiming for the clearest, most direct path to it.

Second, they believe that the key to leading a happy life is persistently low expectations, and that frequent family travel can do that effectively. Unfortunately, they could not lower them enough. On the 10PM flight out, Cooper and I designed the seating. Mom would sit in the middle to create healthy space between us. We then lay down across all 3 seats to sleep. How does one do that you ask?  Well, it turns out if the person in the middle scoots up a little, one of us can lay his feet behind her and the other can put her legs on top of her. Then she can sit upright for the night, resting her forehead on the chair in front of her. Sweet. Then, the row behind us collectively began a loud and painful-sounding vomiting episode, and we still had 14 hours to go. At that point, Cooper helpfully remarked, “My friends are all on the beach in Hawaii right now.” My mom decided that was a good time to launch into one of her unbidden life-lectures. The key, she said in life, was to keep needs low, expectations moderate, and dreams big. To Cooper, any difference among these three nouns is nuanced, arguably undetectable. He believes needs = expectations = dreams = big, with variables such as dream = NBA versus dream = US Open, subject to sudden and irrefutable change without notice.  Life should be sweet and stimulating. All the time. Party, party, party. This means most of reality often falls short. His hope, though, never fades.

Going in, we didn’t fear the animals, the long flight, or the foreign language (Screen Shot 2015-12-16 at 5.16.04 PMAustralian); we feared the school uniforms. The day before departure, Devon made a last minute appeal to ditch the trip entirely because of this unfathomable constraint. The day before school began, I learned that mine was a plaid wool onesie dress, complemented with a floppy sun hat. I resembled five-year old Bindi. The boys stopped grumbling quickly after they put theirs on though, as jacket and tie uniforms made them look older and almost respectable. And then they would open their mouths.

There were so many high points though; here are a few:

  • All Australians. They are 1,000 times braver than any American. Exhibit 1: their perspective on snakes.  When you see one, no worries, just: “Man up.  Get used to it.  Don’t overthink it.  You don’t want to get paranoid about these things.” If you do find yourself ‘overthinking’ a snake in your path, at least make yourself useful by knowing the three categories:
    • Diamond Python: “No problem, you can handle it.”
    • Red Belly Black:  “Wouldn’t pick it up, but you could survive.”
    • King Brown:  “Don’t think about it.” (As in, there’s no point, you definitely will die).
  • Cultural Norms and Behaviors. Many people don’t have cars so as to “protect the earth” and “be healthy.” As a result, you see a lot of people biking, running and walking as you whiz by them in your taxi.
  • Tim Tams, the would-be love child of an Oreo and Reese’s.
  • Russell Crowe. Mom kept peeking out the window to catch a glimpse of Russell, which sounds crazy until I tell you we lived next door to him, and then it just sounds lightly criminal.
  • Family time.  We learned new things about each other, all the time. For example, Coop and Devon made ground rules for parents (mom) for where they (she) can post pictures of the trip. Here they are:
    • Snapchat: Never. It’s not for you. It’s embarrassing to hear you mention it. Please stop.
    • Instagram: One post every three days. If you post more, you clearly don’t have a life which is embarrassing.  Also, leave the photo captionless.  Whenever you try to write captions, it always comes out awkward/wrong.  Also, it goes unsaid but don’t write a comment. Never ever use an emoji.
    • Facebook: Always. Go nuts. Knock yourself out. You can post literally anything anytime on FB. It’s like a cruise ship, an experience for grandparents only.

In other updates, I’ve converted my gymnastics momentum into yoga prowess, and am on track toward my goal of being the youngest certified instructor ever! At first, Cooper decided that anything I could do, he could do more nimbly and louder. After a Taraksvasana (handstand scorpion) that apparently wasn’t as easy as I made it look, he’s decided tennis takes more skill and is more fun. Also, yoga is really just lazy people finding new and uncomfortable ways to be still.

It’s not really a sport, but Cooper and Devon have taken up golf. Devon because he stopped ignoring Papa’s compliments on his long drives, while learning how to tune out his accurate, if constant advice on how to improve Devon’s putting game. It’s just another thing that Coop takes naturally to and is supported by the fact that cool people like Steph and Obama play it. So golf isn’t just boring business guys doing boring business deals – though he believes that such boring activities will be useful in the future.

Never without projects, my Dad is converting our toolshed into a clubhouse/disco because he has run out of things to connect and automate. My mom will enjoy it because the mess inside it will not visible to her. For Devon, this clubhouse will serve as a peaceful oasis outside the fishing limits of casual familial interlopers. He enjoys walking around without a shirt on; this place will actually be appropriate for that. I will enjoy it for singing while doing yoga; I call it yoga-singing.  Cooper will ignore the clubhouse then forget it’s there at all. After a month or a year, he will stumble on it for the first time and be amazed, then never go down there again, but will remember it when he needs to hide candy. And then it will become a party, party, party.

We are grateful for all we have, for all of you, and for all the love and light in the world.  Here is to keeping needs low and dreams big.

Love,

Téa Sloane

Not Sitting Still (2014)

Posted on by Andy

Hey, it’s Devon writing the holiday card this year. Ironic, because I conserve words like Téa Sloane hoards nickels. I see the world clearly, and it just doesn’t take many words to say what I mean. I recently learned that the average woman speaks 3 times as many words per day as the average man. Not a surprise. What did surprise me was that the average man is that chatty. The AT&T bill shows that Dad talks one-third as much as mom, but 12 times as much as me. Cooper talks two and a half times as much as me. Necessary? Clearly if there’s a pilot in this family, it’s me.[1]

devon 2014 byline A year ago we wrapped 4 months of Big City Life in NY. We grew used to:

  • Getting up early, jamming to 63rd & Lex (avoiding toppling / squashing Park Av old lady/micro-dog combos)
  • Catching the 8:05 F-train, doors closing (door-nipped backpacks = cred)
  • Playing pick-up basketball in The Cage at Washington Square Park
  • The Halal Guys and wondering what voodoo they put in chicken over rice.

Returning to Lafayette, we built new routines:

  1. Finding fashion true north. Téa Sloane learned hats and scarfs work even outside City Limits, and that both compliment Iviva yoga apparel – which should be worn 24-7. Cooper upped his A game, and has been seen repeatedly in team-insignia-free clothing. Weekly, we go to “cotillion” – a Cold War remnant where we dress like waiters and hold hands with girls for an hour while listening to an instructor repeat “1-2-3, 1-2-3.” Sweaty palms, stepping on other people’s feet. It’s full of all that good stuff you remember. For me, formal wear begins at jeans, and shirts are entirely optional. I find that going shirtless is an effective power move (surprise = dominance), and valuable for expectation management (you can only improve in others’ minds after they meet you half-naked).
  1. Building stuff.  TSloane and Dad took a long hard look out the window and together decided the dirt could be doing more for us. They reanimated our backyard hill as giant strawberry patch. Aided by water and sun, the property acquired an entirely new, earthy aroma (manure). To avoid the stench, Dad and I moved indoors to build a nixie tube clock (last seen on an Apollo mission), and modify a drone with a claw to pick up stuff. (Because why would you want to reach down, when a drone could do it for you?) Inspired by American Ninja Warrior, we also constructed a climbing pegboard. Not Mike Brady’s 1970’s garage pegboard. I’m talking a 4×6 foot upper-body workout device combining all the ease of one-armed pull-ups with all the frustration of furniture assembly. We drilled, beveled, leveled and bolted the lumber leviathan onto to the fence. The extreme height, weight and inadvisability of the operation hit its peak when Dad, both feet covering the ladder’s warning label saying: DANGER: DO NOT STEP HERE, YOU WILL FALL AND DIE put a tiny bit of weight on our not-yet-rock-solid pegboard. What followed was an iPhone 6-worthy slow-mo domino effect of pegboard detaching from fence, pegboard knocking dad off ladder, dad hitting ground upside down, followed by ladder and pegboard landing on Dad. I find a lesson, if not necessarily the moral to this story is this: When building a device to increase upper body strength and inspire your kids to exercise, wouldn’t it be ironic if through illiteracy/haste you damaged yourself enough to merit an x-ray and immobilize your arm for weeks?
  1. Mining TV for life lessons.

Shark Tank:  Never do a royalty deal. Don’t arrive broke. Don’t count on the ladies to save you. QVC requires killer gross margins. Clothes matter.

Modern Family: With a thick Colombian accent, you can get away with saying anything. Also hot blondes settle for geeks every time.

American Ninja Warrior: If you can make it up and around the pegboard without ending up in the water, endorsement money’s on the way, baby!

Family Updates: Téa “I Don’t Like Downtime” Sloane Smith has never seen a parade she not at the head of. Though currently phoneless, she’s is extremely chatty. Her AT&T bill will beat my mom’s. She likes everyone. She includes them in her prayers: “God bless everyone…except robbers.” On Post-Its, she writes “Téa is awesome” and inspirational notes like “Good job!” and “Have a fun day!” leaving them in unexpected places (inside the fridge, on your steering wheel).  She believes in what MC Hammer calls “momentum marketing.” When people meet her, they inevitably describe her as “awesome.” Cartwheeling across any level surface, she manages to works flips and back-bend demos into not-otherwise gymnastic conversation.  Coop, not one to be outdone by her, the cast of Cirque de Soleil or Stephen Curry, busts into side-by-side bridge and wheel sessions with Téa Sloane – showing off both his Plasticman flexibility and his general unwillingness to be bested in an attention-getting activity. Cooper has never seen a competition that he wasn’t winning. Together, they are fierce.  I sit back and watch it go down.

Cooper’s design efforts are diverse enough to require 4 Instagram accounts to distinctly position his 4 creative products. He is committed to making a positive impact, and has scheduled that to commence immediately after he becomes famous (better leverage). Luckily he has a good work ethic. Visiting Dad’s office at Founder’s Den, Cooper warmed up to “work” rapidly in the presence of the coffee/hot chocolate-robot and chairs that spin around. Declaring, “I want an office”, Coop sought useful things to start his own. Pens. He stole a lot of pens. Like Téa Sloane at 3, Cooper exudes a vibe when you are both near him and also near something he might want (cookies, pens): 1. If I want it, it’s mine; 2. If it’s near me, it’s mine; 3. If it looks like it’s yours, it’s definitely mine.

Mom equivalent is: 1. If I can see it, it’s messy; 2. If it’s messy, it must be put away; 3. If I put it away somewhere that makes more sense to me than you – isn’t it really your fault anyway?  Recently, when “cooking” (arranging candles on a table), mom set her hair on fire. After a while, she noticed and put herself out (it wasn’t her first time on fire). Cooper, troubled by the awkwardness of her newfound asymmetry, offered a trim. She accepted. This happened in the space of 3 minutes. My mom’s a lot of fun.

Dad continues his undeclared war against simplicity by embodying the bleeding edge techie (Siri has a few step-sisters at our house). The purchases are ostensibly necessary to inform investment decisions for the Internet of Things VC fund he and Jay (his venture partner / geek soulmate) launched this summer. Dad made a list of what 15 years of marriage taught him about my mom as a quick reference. For example, for Christmas gifts, give her things: 1. identical to something she already has; 2. unique and badass (badass makes up for a lot), and 3. of little material value because, whatever it is, she’s going to lose or destroy it immediately.

We are thankful for our loving extended family, our amazing au pair, Clara, who gives us gum and laughs with (at) us incessantly, and good friends, who although they wear shirts, they don’t mince words.  And I like that.

Bye, Devon.

P.S. I can’t believe I wrote this much.

[1] Consider how to apply my philosophy in your own life:

  1. Transitions = pointless. You said what you wanted to say. You’re done.  Next!
  2. Questions beget answers, and answers are supposed to be answers – not flowery, indulgent ramblings that invite yet more questions.
  3. Code words. When pilots communicate with the ground, a reply is frequently a single word: Roger (stands for message Received), Wilco stands for Will Comply. (Look at me ramble. Sorry.)
  4. The few things you do say: repeat them. Studies show that we need 3 repetitions to recall a message (shockingly inefficient, but factually true). This is why Téa needs me to tell her: “You’re tiny” several times daily.  It comforts her.

A Holiday Story (2013)

Posted on by Andy

Cooper Cool Teen Headshot SquareHello from NYC!  This is Coop, writing this years’ recap. To drive readership, I’m investing in: 1) rapid letter deployment, 2) snappy phraseology and total hashtag fluency #ohyeahthatsright #whywritewhenyoucanhashtag, 3) a one-time sweet prize to the first verified reader #whatcoulditbe? #jakeschatzwillnotwin.

Believing that disasters make for strong memories, our parents moved us to NYC for four months with the idea that “Life is too good. We should do something to mess it up.” Their original plan was to shoe-horn all 6 of us into an 800 square foot 3-bedroom, 1-bath, 1-closet apartment downtown. We would begin to appreciate the challenges of urban living and, by implication, our sweet deal in California. (I think they imagined us saying thank you all the time on our return because we would no longer have to sleep head-to-toe or sign-up to take a shower). That place fell through though. So we landed instead in our friend’s spacious home where everyone gets comfy queen beds. Do we have new appreciation for our old life?  In a way.  We made a punch list of needed enhancements to our home in Lafayette. #ridiculousfail #betterlucknexttime

We live near Dylan’s Candy Bar, a sweet, sweet Mecca that we hit 2-3 times a week (more if guests visit).  On the walk to Dylan’s, you notice several things: (1) well-coiffed ladies holding tiny dogs, (2) people on the street smiling at you (just kidding; that never happens in NYC) and (3) the ‘80s are back!  Otherwise normal-looking people wear bell-bottoms, INXS is blasting in Soul Cycle, and new/old haircuts are walking the streets. Inspired by a Mr. T look-alike in Times Square, I got a faux-hawk which didn’t work out great  #nevercutyourhairwithdadsrazor.

Devon and I go to the Little Red Schoolhouse in Greenwich Village while Téa Sloane is home-schooled.  Now, it doesn’t matter why, but Téa has foregone new friends in favor of creating innovative duck tape products in her free time. Her passion for adhesive handcrafts is now a cash-flowing business. She’s intent to prove that duck tape is the perfect material, as soy is the perfect food. With my design help and Devon’s web skills, we launched ducktapedesign.com (bitcoin accepted, BTW). TSloane and I decided Devon should get 17% of the business as we’re the ones cranking out wallets, and think we don’t need the website, nor an ecommerce channel. These things will sell themselves!  In a surprising move, Devon accepted our terms in exchange for 90% of the online net revenue, payable in convertible preferred stock (he urges you to shop online this holiday season).  In other big news, we hired an intern named AJ. He currently heads up a sales group at Facebook, but we lured him to interview with the promise of Dylan’s candy.  Before interviewing him, I took off my shirt which I believe is an effective power move. I seek to cultivate a reputation for authenticity and transparency.  There is really nothing that says ‘I am authentic’ like being mostly naked during an interview. If you’re intreigued, we’re still reviewing CV’s for unpaid internships certain to be rich in experience and further opportunities to see me bare-chested: ducktapedesign.com/howyoudoin’.

While in NY, Devon has taken raising one eyebrow a lot and doing impressions. He does a mean Andy Smith looking exasperated. Two trips stand out during Devon’s NYC stint. First, a trip to the MIT Media Lab. When our friend Sep invited Dev to visit, my dad’s ears perked up and he “offered” to “come along” because “Devon should have adult representation” on the trip.  As you know, my dad is kind and selfless, particularly given how much he hates both technology and 5 hour train rides where no one is going about “feelings.” The second was a school trip to the Catskills where Dev forged a coal-poker for the fireplace and I made heart for my mom to place hot dishes on.  (perfect because although she doesn’t cook she often burns flat surfaces, so now she can feel loved and the counter can be protected at the same time). However, during the night, a thunderstorm dumped on us (which reminds us all to NEVER GO CAMPING).  I didn’t notice, but Dev did and commented that we should NEVER GO CAMPING.   Because of memory decay, we don’t remember this experience perfectly, but think it is safe to say that camping has some downsides.

In terms of updates for parents, my dad (who grew up in NJ so was existentially appalled that we are so 100% Californian as to be unfamiliar with the concept of seasons, and that Its Not Always Shorts Weather) has taken home automation to a whole new level. He continues (a) his love for homes that operate without anyone touching anything; and (b) avoiding all conversations that involve feelings. He has a working hypothesis that by sharing online articles about feelings that other people have, he can dramatically compress the time otherwise consumed inefficiently by discussing them. This philosophy is best illustrated in bar chart form (see Appendix. For more, visit grinks.com.)

My mom’s hosted a few dinners here in NY. She defines cooking as “eating food off of plates we own ourselves,” so we’re not all on the same page as to what these “dinners” actually consist of. #atleastshehasasweethotdishholder #snackdinners. Another highlight was my mom donning a gold sequined dress on her way to a ‘gala’ held in honor of a friend. At the gala, she learned two things. First, when women accustomed to formal events pose for the camera, they do so with their fingers hooked on their hip bone because they are so skinny they have nowhere else to put their finger. For those who can’t locate their hip bone (#notsayin’thisismymom), it also works to  just aim your finger in the general hip area (#againthisisintheory).  Second, you learn that being in an entourage is great; the paparazzi frantically snap pictures of you as you walk/float down the red carpet where the chances that you will trip are remote (#exceptformymom). You also learn to smile and wave like the queen. But the paparazzi aren’t dumb and the second they find out that you’re a nobody, they bee-line to someone who is someone. This makes you a tiny bit sad, but you are also proud you naturally took to the whole finger-on-hip-bone habit (#okthisismymom).

Wishing you spacious beds, Dylan’s candy, and ducktape forever.

Love – Cooper the NYC Hoopster

Growing Together (2012)

Posted on by Andy

Happy Holidays!

Hello! It’s Téa Sloane, penning (actually typing) for the three kids. And Devon’s here rocking the flow chart.

Mailing a Letter, Startup Style

Little girl with her office in her mom's office's closet.

To start, you deserve to know how I sent all these holiday cards: by myself.  I began by efficiently stamping the envelopes, only to later learn that the

USPS demands right-sided placement. That’s cool.  Because it gave us an opportunity to bond over a ‘family project’ – tearing off the stamps from innovative parts of the envelope and re-affixing them with tape on a single unimaginative right hand corner. Fueled with confidence, ambition and what felt like little fireballs of energy, I proceeded to seal all the envelopes, a move that proved to be premature because the letter wasn’t in them. That’s cool. Because then we, as a family, could unseal every single envelope with patience and delicacy. Cooper tried to speed up the application of return address labels with a mass-production approach that ultimately proved to be an unfortunate decision. On average, each envelope has 2.5 rips, and as a batch, required 6 rolls of tape.

NBA Nuance

A recap on the family. First, let’s start with LeBron James, I mean Cooper.  Cooper and LeBron James are soul mates.  LeBron doesn’t know this, but Cooper does and that understanding infiltrates day-to-day life. A top priority is to defend LeBron, which undoubtedly contributes to LeBron’s strong game. To illustrate: no one within earshot can say a positive thing about LeBron’s nemesis, Kobe Bryant, without unleashing a torrent of vitriolic disbelief and outrage sufficient to bring self-doubt to Kobe himself. When not thinking about what LeBron would do or think (e.g., ”Would LeBron go to bed this early, or for that matter, ever?” “When do you think LeBron got an iPhone®), Cooper practices dance moves which range from Gangnam Style (강남스타일), a whole-body performance, to the “Dougie” which includes such signature confidence-exuding moves as wiping his hand through imagined stylish hair. Cooper just returned from New York where he and Mom ran ‘meetings’ which involved consuming chocolate truffles and receiving free NBA jerseys.

The Future Will Be Invented

Devon, wise beyond his years, remains transfixed by machines, computers, apps, and heroic geeks like Mark Zuckerberg. Eskimos have their multitude of words for snow; Devon has hoodies that he believes are appropriate for multitudes of occasions including formal events. When tired, he reports that his brain is ‘on sleep’ (ready to rejuvenate, when people actually need him, but conserving power in the meantime). When his brain ‘wakes up’, it does not think linearly but in branching decision trees (flip page for an example). Devon begins most conversations with: “For some reason….” — as it captures surprise, disavowal of responsibility and a genuine expression of curiosity.   An example: “For some reason, the toilet is overflowing!” or “For some reason, my shirt‘s dirty!” This summer, he enjoyed creating a presentation on the things in life that are ‘sucky’ (friends at IDEO say that’s a word), and has plans to patent a t-shirt that repels liquids and mosquitos. At the same time.

GTD

Me? I work in my office (pictured), and get stuff done. A typical morning begins at 6:15AM when I leap out of bed to get cracking organizing things around the house into one of three categories: (a) things that clearly belong to me (e.g., flowers, objects that are shiny, sparkly or both) (b) things that should belong to me (e.g., candy, cozy-looking things) and (c) things that belong to other people (rocks with no character, garbage, anything pink). Next, I plan things.  I find planning to be appealing because when you plan, you can enjoy things before they happen. You don’t have to wait for everyone else who isn’t moving as fast. And you can know how things are going to turn out.  Which is awesome.  Also, planning lets you fit more things into the day. For example, you can vacuum before playdates.  And after.  Both times.  Sweet. Once I finish planning and organizing, I write it all down. I create lists. That is what I do.  I am a list-creator. Many wonder where I got my energy. Some believe it was from my mom who listened to a great deal of Beastie Boys while I was in the womb.  Alternative hypotheses: Driving NASCAR in a prior life or I secretly consume or naturally synthesize caffeine. Doesn’t matter; let’s move on.

Dad

Among other work endeavors (vonavona.com, pointoption.com, dragonflyeffect.com), he has begun spending time at San Quentin (just visiting) where he advises prisoners on how to become entrepreneurs. He is very popular there. Which is great for him because at home his polls are declining. Voters find him overly stringent around ‘balanced meals.’ He recently made Coop try one of his Shakeology drinks during what Coop recalls as ‘a break in my sanity.’ His relentless focus on hard labor (e.g., teeth brushed, dishes in dishwasher, lights off) makes home seem like Stalag 13 without the laugh track. To boost his standing, we’ve urged him to consider new key planks: (1) ease up on chores, as he and Mom can do that stuff, (2) drop the irrational need to force vegetables into dinner; (3) iPhones®.  iPhones for everyone. For God’s sake why don’t I have an iPhone?  Some people in this house are 10!

Mom

She still cooks poorly (she recently attempted popcorn, which lead to the microwave blowing up), and that still doesn’t seem to phase her.  She has taken to keeping a list of ‘important’ conversations to have, with her at all times, possibly written on the inside of her eyelids. Her favorites: (1) “How are you feeling, really? I mean really, really feeling?” (2) “What makes you happy? I mean really happy?” and (3) “What stories do you envision living in your future? Yes, I know that you are unable to see the future.” Conversations that we would like to have include (1) “Let me explain how the TV works” (Devon), (2) “Here’s what are we going to do today.” (Téa Sloane), and (3) “The Knicks have the oldest person in the NBA: Kurt Thomas. He is 40.  Man.” (Cooper).

Cultural Tourism

She and my Dad took us traveling this year to “conferences” and “meetings.” We have found that, to really know a culture, you need to know their candy[1]. When in Mexico, consider tasting some of the hot and spicy candy.  Illuminating and delicious.  When in Italy, try gelato, which like OJ, is not just for breakfast anymore.  When in NY, first stop off at Dillon’s Candy Bar, a nuanced and wonderful destination, revealing more about the history and richness of Manhattan than the Statue of Liberty ever could.

From the very bottom of our hearts, we are thankful for the health we enjoy, the candy we eat, our loving au pair, Johanna, and you. Yes, you. We hope that your holidays are filled with great stories and lots of love!

Our son, Devon documents with a colorful flow chart how you can stop being a sucker and get what you want as a kid through story telling.
Devon shows how to stop being a sucker and get what you want through storytelling. (double-click to zoom)

[1] We often try to consume candy at our home but it’s all too frequently confiscated. Here’s what I recommend if you ever find yourself unlawfully deprived of candy:  First, retreat into your room and close the door. This is a private time. Second, think angrily: How dare they take away your candy?! It is not for them. It is for you. Everyone knows that. Third, leave your room stealthily and just grab what you want and run.  Life is too short.  When you’re caught, return to your room and make a list of people who are unreasonable.

 

Tea Sloane Smith

Rules For Living (2011)

Posted on by Andy

I, (TeaSloaneJustTea[1]) have been tasked with Christmas letter writing. Let’s begin with an update on my brothers.

Tea Sloane Smith
TéaSloaneJustTéa

Devon’s deep. He favors arrowhead and crystal pendant necklaces.  Somewhat paradoxically, he’s also a committed technologist, frequently applying tech terms to the analog world. I’ve heard him say things like: “I’m upgrading my upper arm strength” while working out, and mumble “Undo, UNDO!” emphatically when he misspells.

Devon enjoys TV ads. He thinks they’re well presented, unbiased product information and they empower him with knowledge that allows him to be a tech resource for the rest of us. His appetite for marketing messages may have caused Devon to develop a (completely manageable) iPhone app obsession. Quality matters, but quantity matters more (like Mom with the candles, Cooper with cookies, and Dad with streaming media players). Many apps are free but Devon finds the good ones can cost as much as $5.  So it is frustrating that our dad not only gate-keeps the iTunes Store but also regularly changes the password.  Devon cracked the code once, but this was rendered useless when Cooper decided to brag about Devon’s (and, by transitivity, his) prowess. [If you haven’t witnessed it, Cooper’s bragging is a whole-body performance, up there with Cirque du Soleil. It includes such signature confidence-exuding moves as: British / Australian / Cowboy accent, pimp-walking, and Jay-Z name-dropping. (Coop will ask a new acquaintance: “hey, do you know Jay-Z?” then, while they’re off-balance searching for an answer, he’ll move onto the next conversation, leaving the listener to infer that Cooper and Jay-Z are tight).  He’s also perfected the insouciant Justin Bieber hair flip, disconcerting for too many reasons to mention.  As you might infer, he doesn’t do subtle.  To the right, you will find his to-do list.]

A post-it with the items Draw, Sneak Something, Grapes, TV, Computer, Haircut, TV and Bed
Full days require to-do lists

Like Warren Buffet, my brothers are generally optimistic. Committed to social entrepreneurship, they see their firm Spherical Ventures as the engine of world economic recovery.  SV is a business built on ball reclamation and enhancement, founded after my Dad realized that scores of balls find their way into the remote corners of our yard and nearby properties. For just $.25 per ball, their firm recovers wayward balls. For an additional $.25, their firm re-inflates any balls judged inadequately bouncy, though the client requires an itemized invoice. The brothers pride themselves on thoroughness, partly because their client instituted a penalty for unrecovered balls: $1 deducted for every ball Dad finds after they have declared mission accomplished. Between Groupon and my Dad, my brothers could easily work themselves into bankruptcy.

As for me, I remain focused on my core competences: breakfast production, original singing/dancing numbers, navigating Target, and birthday event planning.[2] New skills still in beta: color coordination, hailing NY taxicabs, and hair-arrangement. One newfound skill; dominating at the card game, Skip-Bo.  Some argue that a key reason for my success is strategic dealing, where all of the “good” cards land in my pile.  The chance of me winning is approximately 95%.  People call me talented — a SkipBo savant.  To them I respond – it’s about the journey people.  Don’t over-think it. It’s just fun.

My Mom’s big goal this year: to become easygoing; she began by listing, prioritizing and assigning due dates to the prerequisites. The first: take an improv class. Like Fight Club, improv has rules. The first: there are no mistakes, only opportunities. As a family, we face a cornucopia of opportunities, particularly at mealtime.  The second rule of improv is to make statements. I live this rule. My favorite statements: “No pictures!” (accompanied with hand completely blocking face from paparazzi), and “No underwear today!”  Third rule: there is no failure, a rule that makes my mom act on her oft-felt feeling that: “I’m pretty sure this next step is wrong; gonna do it anyway.” This new mantra has rekindled her dormant interest in cooking.  Firemen know our address, and it’s not because of stray balls.  The fourth rule of improv is always agree, you are required to agree with whatever your partner just proposed (“yes and..”); it’s an outstanding rule.  After learning this rule my mother’s stint with improv came to an end in favor of ‘active parenting.’

My Dad continues to defy singular definition. Entrepreneur/author/geek, he also seems to be on a mission to infuse technology into every room of our home, possibly as R&D for a brewing home automation venture, pointoption.com.  His goal: try to make our home self-aware, like a friendly version of Skynet from The Terminator. The lights go on when I enter a dark room, the voice of a British lady tells me when someone is at the door, Morticia Adams announces the mail and my best pal/AuPair, Elin, says she’s seen her lights go on and heard an Indian woman yelling at her to wake up from time to time.  It’s super fun to live with us.  Even the firemen look forward to their visits.

From the very bottom of our hearts and during the greatest time of our lives, all of us wish you nothing but happiness, meaning, joy and SkipBo for the holidays and the New Year!


Do you like to get actual paper cards? Make sure we have your address!

[1] Many call me Téa Sloane, and I vehemently and consistently correct them: “Just Téa”, so my name has become TéaSloaneJustTéa, or TSJT to friends.

[2] Key ingredients to successful parties: Tinkerbell, eating-donuts-on-a-string station, tattoos, fashion show, hula-hoops, movie, bowling, a dance party, and whipped cream stations (shots of whipped cream served before cake).

Team Aaker/Smith V-Day Movement (2010-ish edition)

Posted on by Andy

Devon is on it!

Happy Valentine’s Day!  It’s Devon.

It’s an understatement to say we didn’t have our act together during the holidays.  So: Happy Valentines Day letter! By sending it when you least expect it and then branding it Team Aaker/Smith V-Day Movement, we’re creating a differentiated offering. A quick review of market research reveals that despite minimal personalization, the open rate for Valentines is off the charts, bumping up with “Someone tagged a photo of you on Facebook” emails. Another insight: very few Valentines Day cards are sent, yet people still report significant expectation and interest in receiving them. This is called an “expectation-reality gap.” Gaps like this lead to depression & overeating.  My goal: close gap, prevent depression, spread love. I’m what they call a “gap-filler.”  Also in the positive column: I’m writing this in WordPress and I’m ready for the inevitable picketing by the no longer necessary Microsoft (Word), Georgia-Pacific (paper), HP (toner) and the USPS.  Open-source technology marches on (FTW)!

My secondary goal: maximum reader reach.  My success metrics 1) become trending topic on Twitter 2) Achieve click-through > 2% then 3) go viral. Confident, I ordered a Gulfstream G650 today to ensure getting it on my 10th birthday in 2012 when the letter has billions of viewers that I monetize through my patented Social Sharing Norm Conversions® Product Integration and Upward Revenue Stream Dynamics.® That’s right: you’re monetized. I’ve already said too much. If you even think about beating me to my goal, I will use the persistent cached cookies embedded in this page to find you.  (Just make sure to turn off all your pop-up blockers and privacy controls before you click on each and every link in this letter. It’s your duty).

Lets start with a recap of the highlight of last year: Disneyland!  A brief reminder of what happened:  We prepared for the trip for weeks, filling our jean pockets with cookies for sustenance, and brushing up on our Disneyland history. On arrival though, we found the parking: painful, tickets: expensive, lines: long.  On the upside, my dad found an iPhone app with GPS-driven map, ranked attraction checklist and crowdsourced wait-time guide to get us around the park strategically, guaranteed to optimize our fun while minimizing time spent in lines. Unfortunately, between the display, the 3G radio and the GPS, the iPhone punched out in under 30 min. Necessity forced us to try something arguably better – a cleverly color-coded, conveniently foldable, pocket-sized tool. It’s called a map. It’s provided by Disneyland. Amazingly it’s free (the only free thing at Disneyland).  So that was fortuitous.  But then Téa Sloane got hungry (“I HUNGRY!”), saw an apple and stole it. Lost teaching moment.  Regaining our momentum, we then decided to check out the Haunted House.  About 45 minutes later (Disneyland excels at line-length deception), we step inside and I, instead of embracing the hauntedness, analyzed the technology that creates the ghosts (“holograms!”). That put a damper on the mystique for some. On the way out, we found our au pair who was shaking from dehydration and heatstroke. Being a “doctor,” mom recommended she eat some grapes. Seconds later, her body decided to put the grapes in reverse. We left seeking a place with less bad advice and fewer bystanders, she slept the entire drive home. We were required to be silent the whole time. So it ended on an upnote.

Despite this successful trip, we did not go to Disneyland again this year.  My parents said that we should “protect those memories” and not taint them with “new Disneyland memories.” They called it this “Strategic Memory Protection” and cite this paper as backup.

So we spent last summer in more pastoral ways – chasing lizards, digging holes, and “appreciating the moment.” It drove me crazy; the days could not have been longer.  I treated it like I was doing hard time. First, there were the prison push-ups, (great for the guns and chest). Second, breaking down electronic things I wanted to understand (challenging, screwdriver required), then trying to put them back together (near impossible, time machine required). Third, coming up with viral campaigns to promote my products.  The first product was a lemonade stand, where we missed an opportunity to leverage social sharing, but I won’t repeat that mistake with Téa Sloane’s upcoming birthday party where social sharing will take center stage, culminating in a birthday movement.

Téa Sloane is doing great.  She’s a Tasmanian Devil version of my mom. She finds instant messaging frustratingly slow. Appropriately, Téa will sign her name “ETA” or “EAT.” Both work for her; she is very time driven and enjoys a wide variety of food.

Téa Sloane firmly believes a thing’s sparkliness signals its quality. July 4th is a high quality holiday; Cinderella wears high quality clothes; mom’s clothes from the ‘80s are outstanding.  She’s is also an “out of the box” thinker, viewing either/or options as an invitation to brainstorm a third option. Samples:

  • You can have carrots or broccoli. “Neither!”
  • You can have a cookie or ice-cream. “Both!”
  • You can come with me or dad. “Stay home alone!”

Cooper has an uncanny sense for what others should be doing. He’s a shoo-in for becoming Dr. Phil’s retirement replacement or a Partner at McKinsey. He has a portfolio of 17 distinct sketch characters and 20 accurate verbal impressions. He has a solid New York accent, a Crocodile Dundee-Australian sure to offend anyone from OZ and leveraging pre-adolescence he can respectably belt out a pregnant Alicia Keys and a Jay-Z impression within the same song. He’s working on a remixed demo of an original piece so JayZ can sing it. If you tell him you’re going to New York, he’ll likely ask you to drop it on JayZ when you’re there.

My parents are doing great. Dad’s on a media blitz with The Dragonfly Effect; he’s commenting on things that he’s is an expert on as well as other things that to me sound better left to the State Department. He speaks on both with confidence; clearly no one notices the difference.  He retains his weakness for palm trees and tiki-themed knickknacks as well as his strength in the form of his “no-cookie diet” (25 months and counting).  Mom continues to focus on work, cuddling with us and avoiding cooking (for everyone’s sake). Her difficulties have progressed from meal production malfunctions to problems with food consumption as well. Here’s a recent picture from a party where she tried to cook and also eat.

Jennifer Aaker with a hole burned in her sleeve
No one recently on fire looks so happy.

No one looks as good (or happy) as she does immediately after burning a hole clear through her shirt-over an open flame-while wearing it. This was a new high for her.

We hope that your Valentines Day is filled with strategically protected memories, sparkly things and movements of all kinds.  Happy V-Day, and good in closing your own expectation-reality gaps!

It’s a Hard Knock Life (2009)

Posted on by Andy

Cooper SoCals it up in Santa Monica

In our home, Thanksgiving is the first day of Christmas. And I, Cooper David Aaker Smith, have been enlisted to write the letter.  Here’s the sum-up:

  • Last Christmas, Téa Sloane broke her leg sledding. This fall, she broke her leg again (same leg) at home just being her. That was fun.Repeated fractures haven’t slowed her down though. During retail therapy, for instance, Téa Sloane has been known to look in the mirror, put her hands on her hips and say, “You look great, baby!”
  • We’ve replaced “I don’t like” with “I presently struggle with.” Like “I presently struggle with broccoli.” I find vegetables generally struggly.
  • We started working out in the garage with mom and dad (P90X). We do yoga tree poses and lift weights. At least one girl is attracted to me for my “big daddy-guns.”  So I’ve got that going for me.
  • We’re into educational TV, Dragnet, for example.  Here’s how it’s educational: 1) The show always starts with Sergeant Friday introducing his partner, then his boss, then himself. That’s just polite.  2) They wear pressed suits and tight neckties all the time. That’s church clothes 24-7.  3) If you need backup to make a bust at a flophouse, you either have to find a pay phone or ask the perp if you could use his phone and he always acquiesces.  Sharing!

     My parents are doing great. We are actively helping them write a book (you’re welcome, mom and dad).  They also spend much of their time in search for what they like to call ‘teaching moments’ for us. Here is a sample “teaching moment” involving the role of money in life.

Mom: “Do you think that money brings you happiness?”

Devon: (happy to know the answer to this one), “Yes!  Yes!  It does!”

Mom: “No, in fact it doesn’t. Money shouldn’t be your goal. And we don’t talk about money with others.  Now what does makes you happy?”

Devon (starting to question himself): “Trophies?”

Mom: “Nooooo.  Actually trophies don’t make you happy.  Family and friends make you happy.  Helping others make you happy.  And if you have money you have a responsibility to help others who have less. So let’s review, do we ever talk about money or trophies or our home or things?”

Me: (I’m happy to know the answer): “Yes! I really like our home!”

Mom: Nooooooo….

[Here Sandra (our aupair) interjects, taking a second pass at a different angle.]

Sandra: “Ok, If I had a lot of money to buy ice cream. How would you feel?”

Devon: “Happy for you! You got ice cream! That is great!”

Me: [silence]

Sandra: [trying again]: “Ok, if I had lots of money for ice cream and you didn’t have any money so you couldn’t get any ice cream, how would you feel?”

Devon: “I am really happy for you!  You got ice cream!”

Me: “Now I am sad.”

Devon: “I am happy for you!”

Me: “I am VERY sad.”

So that is how things work out here.  I don’t recommend “teaching moments.”  They are rather like “family meetings” – good only in theory.

A highlight of the year: Disneyland!  Two thumbs up.  Really.  It’s up there with Cinnamon Toast Crunch® cereal.  We prepared for the trip for weeks, filling our jean pockets with cookies for sustenance, and brushing up on our Disneyland history. On arrival though, we found parking to be painful, the tickets expensive (enough to feed a small village or buy an IKEA bedroom set) and the lines long.  On the upside, my dad found an iPhone app with GPS-driven map, ranked attraction checklist and crowdsourced wait-time guide to get us around the park strategically, optimizing our fun while minimizing lines. Unfortunately, between the display, the 3G radio and the GPS, the iPhone died in under 30 minutes. Necessity forced us to try something arguably better – a cleverly color-coded, conveniently foldable, pocket-sized tool. It’s called a map. It’s provided by Disneyland. Amazingly it’s free (the only free thing at Disneyland).  So that was fortuitous.  But then Téa Sloane got hungry (“I HUNGRY!”), saw an apple and stole it.  By the time we discovered her theft (because she handed the core back to us for disposal), we were too far away from the victimized fruit stand.  Lost “teaching moment.”  Regaining our momentum, we then decided to check out the Haunted House. 

About 45 minutes later (Disneyland excels at line-length deception), we step inside and Devon, instead of embracing the hauntedness, analyzes the technology that creates the ghosts (“holograms!”). That put a damper on the mystique. On the way out, we met Sandra and Téa Sloane outside, where Sandra was shaking from heatstroke (warmer than Sweden, Anaheim is).  Being a “doctor,” my mom recommended she eat some grapes. Seconds later, Sandra’s body decided to put the grapes in reverse. We left with Sandra to find a place with less bad advice and fewer spectators. She slept the entire car ride home, and we were required to be silent for the whole time. So it ended up on an upnote.  We can’t wait to go back. 

     This fall, we turned our attention to career development – mapping our interests, skills and areas requiring improvement against our goals. I see myself becoming doctor-turned-cartoonist-turned-piano-player. Or a money-makin’ businessman focused on selling dessert. (I believe business is about selling and selling requires authentic passion. And I’m authentically passionate about dessert). I’m also a big believer in TV.  I can smell it when there’s a TV on. My nose twitches. Perhaps I’ll do a mashup of all of these together to develop the business that addresses the demise of today’s broadcast media.

     Devon wants to create homes for homeless people (he figures at least 10 can fit in his room), become an alien, or a scientist because he enjoys generating flowcharts (scroll to the end for a taste), hypotheses and Laws. For example, I’m sure you’re familiar with Metcalfe’s Law – basically any set of connections becomes more valuable in proportion to the square of the number of its nodes. Lesser-known, Devon’s Law applies to our family doing anything.  A sort of inverse network effect – difficulty (as measured by number of attempts, raised voices and total time consumed) is proportional to the square of the number family members involved. In this year’s Christmas photo for instance, the stats: 7 sittings, 4 locations, 3 photographers, 248 exposures, 23 tears, 17 stern voices, 201 pictures of Devon making a silly face, 147 pictures of me with (what was judged to be) an insincere smile, 94 pictures of Dad looking uncomfortable or ticked-off, 79 of Téa Sloane covering her face with her hands for fun, 248 pictures of Mommy looking beautiful and 1 hour of my Dad Photoshopping together a passable Frankenphoto.

     When she grows up, Téa Sloane wants to be a princess mommy who wears a crown all the time, even while sleeping (potential husbands and crown-makers, consider yourself on notice: this is non-negotiable).  Though now she is 100% certain this is what she will become, she was previously 100% certain she would be:

  1. A professional pink cast fashion designer
  2. President of the United States (who successfully passes laws mandating fashionable pink casts)
  3. An operations manager because of her highly developed sense of urgency.

Things should be done yesterday. YESTERDAY. But certainty doesn’t obviate a backup plan — which is to become a singer/songwriter who shuns planned performances, spontaneously breaking out in song wherever, whenever. Like Twitter, however, monetization could prove difficult.  Her stage name would be EAT (an alternative but, to her, equally preferred spelling of Téa).  Her original song lyrics are sung confidently, off-key and loud: “My momMAA!  Her name is Jennifer!  Aaker!  Her is my best girl!  And I like her!  My momMAA!”  Téa Sloane also enjoys singing Happy Birthday in lieu of complementing someone.  For example, if Devon tells her that her hair looks nice, she will respond with: “Happy Birthday to Devon, Happy Birthday to YOU!”Here’s to princesses, aliens, money-makin’ businessmen, a reduction in teaching moments and many happy birthdays to YOU in the New Year!

———

Bonus infographic: Devon’s Quick Reference for Sticky Situations [double-click to zoom]

Growing Into Our Own (2008)

Posted on by Andy

Tea “Clothes are for chumps” Sloane

I am a naturalist, with a sixth sense for when company is about to come over. Two minutes before guests arrive, I bare my lower half (shirt can stay on). When stopped, I politely explain that I want to take off my pants, and I always get to take off my pants at school. My mom empathizes and says she says she hates wearing pants too but encourages me to find the strength somewhere inside me to remain clothed for the beginning of the party.  An opportunity!  So I say, “If I leave my pants on can I have three candies?”  I really don’t see anything wrong with rewarding such significant lifestyle compromise.

I’ve been asked to compose this annual holiday letter. In the spirit of the season, I do so fully clothed – you’re welcome, mom and dad.

Since we last spoke, our family has taken a long tap hit from the Kool-Aid keg of social technology.  Top of the list is Twitter (twitter.com/teasloane).  I embrace brevity and conserve letters like Cooper hoards nickels.  All thoughts should be conveyed under Twitter’s 140 character limit. I find two-word sentences generally suffice.  Consider the following questions posed to me:

  • “Where is everyone?”  Me: “Cooper sleeping. Mama working. Devon batteries.”
  • “No more dessert!”  Me: “Ohhh, mannnnnn.”
  • “Where’s mommy’s lipgloss?”  Me: Silence.

A second obsession: RockBand. When isn’t it a good time to play RockBand? (Rhetorical question). Like the Partridge Family, each of us has a role in the family band: FLAMES ON FIRE (name credit to Devon). Mommy and I: dancers, Daddy: lead guitar, Coop: drummer with mad skill. Devon bassist sporting a signature drop to the knees move. Our Au Pair, Sandra, joins us for amazingly on-key vocals. Unlike the aforementioned fictional singing family, our favorite songs rock hard.  We play Livin’ on a Prayer, Man in the Box, Spoonman and Down With The Sickness.  Angst, strife and discord come with greatness and FLAMES ON FIRE IS NOT IMMUNE. Some members aren’t on-board with the focus and long hours of practice necessary to win the upcoming Rolling Stone showcase in Shanghai on Xbox Live.®  Indeed recently, Devon somewhat sullenly observed that when we perform, we are just pushing buttons, and thus argued that gameplay of Wii Mario Kart is more dynamic – and by extension more educational.

Cooper believes that everyone should love their work as much has Mommy loves hers. To that end, he is convinced that he can make money playing Wii. His backup money-making scheme involves inviting people to witness his trampoline tricks, which tend toward flips and competitive bouncing.  Devon has honed in on selling paper airplanes. He’s worked out production, and has built several hundred prototypes. Prices range from $.25 to $250. He believes that the price-quality inference will be made, and the $250 planes will make the mid-priced $100 planes seem a great deal.  It’s called a context effect and restaurants have used it to sell wine for years.

It’s not all tech here, we also kick it old-school.  We play “cards” – a game that my parents say has been around since they were kids (they might be joking). Also, Cinnamon toast cereal. Really can’t say enough about it. We get 3 boxes at a time. It edges out Grape Nuts among the 3-7 demographic. Uncertain health/nutrition benefits. We don’t care.

Time is still a difficult concept, particularly for Devon. When mommy says: “We are going to go to Sweden in a few months,” he hears: “We will be going to Sweden after school.” Therefore, a) he will immediately dress for the plane (layers for cold, Nintendo DS hidden in sweatshirt pocket for boredom, cookie smashed into back pocket for sustenance), b) bag will be packed, and c) teacher will have heard that Devon is off to Sweden after school, unable to return to school for a long time – a week or probably a year.

Cooper gets time, but he doesn’t get dating.  He asked our babysitter if she was married.  “No” replies our babysitter.  “Maybe you should get a husband?” Cooper chirps helpfully.  “Great!  Where do you get a husband?”  Babysitter clearly intrigued. “At Costco®” Coop believes that Costco sells everything.  “No!” Devon interjects with certainty: “You get a husband at the palace. And he decides he is going to marry you after you dance together.  Then you decide it is ok, and then you get married.  So go to the palace. Not Costco. They will be all out.”

My brothers each wrote a book (available on blurb.com) covering their first 6 years (mine is currently with the editor).  Some excerpts:

Devon:  “When I am old, I will be 99. I will get white hair. I will go grocery shopping and go to bed early. I might take walks.”

Cooper:  “When I am old, I will be 16 years old. I will drive a car. My skin will start to get dots. Your hair gets to have a different color. You maybe get to ride in a wheelchair.”

But before distribution, C&D had to: (1) Conduct qualitative one-on-one interviews to determine price (ask random people like Bob our solar guy how much they would pay for such a book & why).            (2) Determine their target market (so far three people – all relatives).    (3) Devise the marketing campaign (Devon decided he would set up a stand not unlike his recent lemonade stand on the Marina Green and yell on the street corner, ‘BOOKS!!!  BOOKS FOR SALE!!”)

My mom continues to bang on the keyboard all the time; aside from this she in full of endearing qualities. She spills incessantly, embracing dad’s Scooba® floor-washing robot as a necessary countermeasure. When she buys white clothing, my dad gets a really pained look on his face. Dad continues to thrive, not only as lead guitar of FLAMES ON FIRE, but as acquirer and master of all things technology. He keeps the American economy afloat in these times of trouble, and has started to ‘green-up’ our home with motion and occupancy sensors ostensibly to conserve power. Just yesterday he enlisted my help holding a flashlight as he fixed the compactor. I encouraged him by kissing his cheek repeatedly. He is my hero. I just wish he would stop asking me if I’ll always be his little girl. I always answer “yes!” but he’s asked it enough to make me think there may be an option B.

We hope you had much laughter, love and Cinnamon Toast cereal in your life this year, and more to come in 2009.

An Embarrasment of Joy (2007)

Posted on by Andy

Lipstick: not just for lips!

I’m Téa Sloane Smith and I like makeup.  The colors are refreshing.  The feeling on my skin: luxuriant.

The family left the writing of the annual letter to me this year – a good choice.  Cooper’s attention span for holiday letter-writing is short.  Devon’s is nonexistent.  I however can bend spoons with my mind. 

Let me take you through a typical morning: After pole vaulting out of my crib, I carefully tiptoe to my bathroom where I systematically unload all I find stored away in any bag, box, drawer or shelf.  This can take up to an hour.  My aim: thoroughness.  First, I create two piles: things that 1) belong in my purse and 2) don’t belong in my purse.  Employing Bayesian updating, I establish a tertiary decision rule to select purse-worthy items: (a) things that clearly belong to me (e.g., barrettes, shoes, toothbrushes), (b) things that look like they belong to me (e.g., MAC lipstick, matchbox cars, puzzle pieces), and (c) things that should belong to me (e.g., car keys, small hotel shampoo bottles, Blackberries®).  Following the organization of these goods, I institute the re-organization process, in which I invert the packing order to ensure the optimal purse-load.  I could “Org & Reorg” for hours.  To aid my process, I have trained my family on how to behave while I am in re-org mode.  Here are my top five rules:

  1. If I want it, it’s mine
  2. If it’s near me, it’s mine
  3. If I am looking at it, it’s mine
  4. If it’s a small container of expensive or indelible liquid, it’s mine
  5. If it’s mine, it must never appear to be yours in any way.

My brothers have advanced to kindergarten, where they have a new portfolio of colleagues and a set of academic challenges which sound fun in concept.  My parents are marketers, so I am more suspicious of the arts of persuasion than the average two-year-old.  One observation: Kindergarten teachers know how to brand things. Examples: Tootsie PopMath” (AKA math). “Transylvania Tango” (AKA dancing).  The “Double Bump Letter” (AKA B). Inspired by Mrs. Somers’s branding prowess, Cooper has taken to branding our family traditions.  Dinner is now “How Much Cheese Can You Eat?” Soccer played against Daddy is characterized by “Just-in-time rule improvements” (relating to how score is kept, exactly where Daddy has to get the ball to score, etc.)  Seizing on another branding opportunity, Devon created a shorthand to increase communications throughput and parental obfuscation (WW: Wii Withdrawal; JFVWRGB: Jonesing for Vitamins which are Really Gummy Bears; LOATT: Lover of All Things Technology). Sweet success is seeing Mom and Dad’s perplexed looks.Devon continues to lead our generation in technical aptitude (he scores high as a LOATT). He has developed a series of theorems.  One of them: there is an organ called a Torgan, which allows people to understand how technology works (like a kidney).  Some are gifted with two (dad); others seem to have lost that organ (mom). Hypothesis 1: The presence of the Torgan is indicated by how many remote controls or power tools you are most comfortable having near you at all times: 3 (NTL = Not a Technology Lover), 7 (TL = Run of the Mill Technology Lover) and 22 (LOATT: Devon, Dad). In our experience, having things be forbidden really stimulates the learning center. With Devon’s gift of two Torgans, he aspires to become a robot-inventor (his back-up plan is to be a space traveler).

Cooper has non-secret aspirations to be a doctor (one of his favorite activities: visits to the doctor) or a professional negotiator.  Cooper’s negotiating strategy: First, ask nicely.  If that doesn’t work, barter.  His differential advantage over others in his cohort: bartering when he has nothing to barter with.  It parallels the “no money down” real estate model, and represents his preference to ask forgiveness rather than permission.  You can see the wheels turn in his head when asking nicely doesn’t work; his eyes scan for anything in the vicinity which he can claim for his own (small hotel shampoo bottles), and then offer to trade for the wanted item (Yu Gi Oh! card).  His success rate is near 90% with civilians (e.g. Papa Dave, non-relatives).

Most children start to learn Chinese, Spanish, or perhaps French as a second language. Merde!  My brothers have skipped these established modes of gaining cultural and vocational capital, and have instead mastered the Pokemon language. “Poketalk” consists of a confluence of nouns, verbs and adjectives, which often involve the character Picachu.  A typical sentence asserted with enthusiasm and expressive hand gestures by Devon: “Picachu can inflict 50 points of damage, and at only 2 feet tall, demonstrates considerable agility.” Cooper responds, “Well, dark Pupitar can do the Rock Tumble and you know that Rock Tumble’s damage is not affected by Resistance.” Plot lines are hard to follow, but vocabulary is extensive.

Frankly, I find Poketalk inefficient.  You can communicate far more effectively through the simple but nuanced use of the word, “no.”  A sampling: 

  1. “No!” (“Hi and don’t take my thing!” I chirp this cheerfully, anytime someone asks me something).
  2. “NO.”  (“I’m not going to stop doing this.”  – said calmly but firmly when an adult has called my name from a distance.  They can’t see me but I suspect they know what I’m doing. I state this at hushed levels; the intent is pre-emption).
  3. “Nonononono!” (“You have seriously got to be kidding!” – in response to the suggestion that I go to bed while guests are visiting and the party is clearly just getting started).
  4. “NO!!NO!!”  (“If you take my small hotel shampoo, I will inflict way more damage on you than Picachu could ever aspire to”).
  5. The Eskimo culture, with its pre-occupation with words for snow, has nothing on me and the nuances of “no.”

Recently we have become interested in the Swedish culture – spurred by Lina, our newest pal, who has come from Sweden to live with us. The first thing we have noted: she is smart.  Really smart.  As evidence, she knows all the words to the Pokémon song in Swedish:

“Nu tänker jag bli allra bäst.  Och bygga upp ett lag. För jag ska söka och fånga flest. Och träna dom var dag.  Pokémon! (Måste fånga fler). Helt okej. Vi vet hur man klarar sig. Du lär mig och jag lär dig P-o-k-é-m-o-n (Måste fånga fler). Jag ska fånga fler. Pokémon!”).

One of the most fascinating things about the Swedes is their food portfolio.  It turns out we LOVE fish (who knew!), as long as they are Swedish.  We look forward to visiting Sweden next year to swim with and hopefully eat more Swedish fish.

We hope you had much laughter, love and Swedish fish in your life this year.

Once More With Feeling (2006)

Posted on by Andy

I'm Devon and I approved this message.

Devon here. Much going on. To quote Inigo in The Princess Bride: “Let me explain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up.” New digs, new school, new home, closer to family.  It’s all good.

Easily the twinkling light of our life is our baby sister, Téa. When she finds you entertaining or potentially helpful, she will stop you dead in your tracks with a flash of her thousand-watt five-toothed smile. In the blink of an eye, she will morph to extremely pissed off if you fall short of expectations. Like I-am-woman-hear-me-roar pissed off.  A typical scene: Téa playing with remote control. Cooper spots remote, heads toward it (Coop prefers others to source interesting playthings). Out of the corner of her eye (Téa has amazing peripheral vision), Téa spots him and adopts a defender’s posture, segueing from a sweet cooing sound, to a worried/warning, humming/buzzing noise, to an angry-talking noise, resolving into a crescendo blood-curdling scream if the predator continues his imprudent approach.  Predator thwarted.

At this writing, Téa is all about moving. Her preferred method involves an adult partner: taking their fingers she inclines her frame forward 45 degrees to present a favorable wind profile. The host (i.e., person attached to the fingers) must shelve any thoughts of slowing down or stopping to rest; the aggressive incline makes that a non-option.  She is what you call ‘a go-getter’, and if you fatigue – she gives you a wink.  (No joke; she can wink. Combine that with the 5-toothed grin and you may begin to grasp what Coop and I are up against).

Although Téa has changed dramatically in the last year, from small, immobile, gurgling lump to Zen mistress, Coop and I remain much the same. Indeed, Cooper often wishes things really were the same. He waxes nostalgic for his younger days and can spend hours reviewing his baby photos. Among his favorite times: the 2’s. He recalls fondly of the lack of pressure and the open structure of bygone days. He felt little responsibility then. Things now weigh heavily. Getting up. Dressing. Brushing teeth. Eating multiple food groups. If he could retreat into the crib, or even the womb – Cooper would be ok with that.

I continue to verbalize points with measured emphasis. I find conventional punctuation lacking, and generally require three exclamation points at the end of each sentence. My 6:15AM greeting to my sleeping parents: “I WOKE UP AND PUT ON MY CLOTHES!!!!” After dinner, “I LIKE CHICKEN NUGGETS!!!” On a random Tuesday, “A BOTTLE OF RED WINE SPILLED ON THE CARPET!!!” To increase impact, I accompany my verbal communications with arm-waving, finger-pointing and emphatic facial expressions. My parents are in marketing; I know we live in an attention-starved world. I do all I can to make my messages cut through the clutter so the recipient can act swiftly. I don’t waste time with trivia so EVERY TOPIC I BRING UP IS IMPORTANT!!!

Although our developmental ramp may not be as steep as Téa’s, it’s not plateauing either.  For example, we are quickly closing on our father’s crown as technology master.  I can turn on our TV – a feat yet unachieved by my Mom. Operating TiVo is intuitive, and indeed I use the TiVo metaphor as a broader life operating platform.  Recently we were drawing rockets with Mom (a distinct second choice rocket-drawer relative to Dad, who knows that rockets have multiple stages and distinct nozzles with orange fire shooting out of them), and  I needed to find a blue pen to accurately recreate my vision of the space capsule.  Problem: how to ensure she doesn’t continue drawing without me?  Simple.  I asked her to “Pause.”  Seems Mom doesn’t know how to pause. She’s pretty much a “Play” or “Stop” gal; very VCR-like. She’s easily distracted if asked to pause for a second and will immediately drift off to another activity.  Pausing is now an area that she is ‘working on.’  I have also tried to ‘reboot’ her when she was cranky – without success.  Coop and I now have a Mac, so we have also tried to ‘undo’ certain unfortunate events (red wine on carpet, permanent marker on floor and varied furniture pieces).

Cooper is also making development strides.  Currently, he is working hard on truth-telling.  Truth – in his perspective – is relative, fairly malleable concept. An example: candy falls from piñata at recent birthday party. Candy is taken home and put in a “special baggie” for later. The next morning: “special baggie” is found full of candy wrapper remnants. Actual candy is missing. Asked if he ate the candy, Cooper is firm: “No!” Question is reframed: “Where did the candy go?” Cooper shrugs, “I don’t know.” (Cooper is unfazed by redundant leading questions).  Question reframed again: “How did the candy taste?” Cooper grins, “YUMMY!” A second example (on Halloween, after Cooper ‘learned his lesson’): we are told we can only eat one piece of candy after dinner. Well before dinner, Daddy finds two wrappers in Cooper’s Halloween bag. “Cooper, why the empty wrappers?” Cooper responds with confidence, “I didn’t eat them.” Dad’s tone is deep, volume rising, “Cooper?!” Cooper crumbles, immediately. “It was an accident! They feel into my mouth.” Did you even see that coming?!!!  Pure genius. When Cooper speaks, I take copious mental notes.

Another domain of progress: Girls.  Cooper is often overheard using the phrase, “She’s a hottie,” which typically refers to girls with “down-hair” (i.e., long hair).  I prefer the opposite, finding “up-hair” (i.e., short hair) to be more attractive. It is nice that we won’t have to compete with each other when it comes time to get the ladies. (Although this is a non-issue as we currently face other challenges such as a penchant for working ‘poo-poo’ and ‘pee-pee’ into everyday conversation.  Girls in our cohort don’t seem to be impressed by our vocabulary, or intrigued by our choice of conversation topics).

School-wise, we have graduated from Stanford to Montessori, where we are carving out our career trajectories and working on our vitaes:

Devon Thomas Johnston Smith. 2002-present. Method actor, with strength in ending all communications with emphasis. Career aspirations: hardware engineer, with heavy focus on disassembly. Game inventor: holding patent on “Ceiling fan baseball.’

Cooper David Aaker Smith. 2002-present. Critical deal negotiator. Ability to quickly switch objects without others knowing (when negotiating proves difficult). Career aspirations: Spiderman Doctor (Note: not a doctor for superheroes, but a superhero-like doctor). Back-up careers: Superman, Batman, generic Spiderman, generic Doctor.

Téa Sloane Smith. 2005-present. Influencer of world events and early threat warning system. Enjoyer of simple pleasures: crushing bananas in hand and smearing them on face, pulling brothers hair, eating soil & plant leaves.

Andrew Brent Smith. Professional father. 2001-present. Lover of all things technological. Pillar of consumer electronics economy. Buyer of Lego robotic packages on weekly basis. Utilizer of conflict resolution strategies to promote physical health by which non-family members remain unharmed by family members.

Jennifer Lynn Aaker. Professional mother: 2001-present. Destroyer of all things technological. Product durability test engineer.  Originator of disposable mobile phone concept. Generator of many feelings and  thoughts (and feelings about those thoughts).

We know we are unbelievably lucky and have no end of things to be thankful for. We have parents who love us, grandparents, aunts & uncles who shower us with yet more love, a soccer team of local cousins (Elliott, Maile, Sami, Kailyn), and our nanny Tata who with her family nourishes us in every imaginable sense of the word.

Good Things Come in Threes (2005)

Posted on by Andy

Téa Sloane is watching.

Someone very wise (I’m thinking Churchill) said “the third time’s the charm.”  With that in mind, I have arrived and that storied “charm” is me!  They got lucky and had a girl this time.  My name is Téa Sloane Smith.

At first the news of a female seemed to confuse Dad.  He came from a family of three boys so I guess he thought he knew what to expect next.  I visualize a large question mark in a thought bubble above his head (complete with appropriate cartoon noises).  Mom was a little stunned too.  She had finally mastered all things “boy” (e.g., the vocabulary of airplanes, rockets and space stations; the characters and significant plot elements of the Star Wars saga).  She thought of pink only as a color worn by other mothers’ children.  Fast forward nine months and all I wear is pink.

My large, loud and fast moving brothers, Cooper and Devon, welcomed me with open arms.  Apparently, the most noticeable change in them is the increase in gross tonnage of love they express.  Such expression is mostly directed at me for better or worse (add “strong” to “large” and “loud” above), but it also overflows to other things.  For example, their interest in the Thunderbirds and Power Rangers periodically red-lines near obsession; when one of those entities is removed from their presence, they often lose it in piercing harmony (if I had teeth, I’d grate them).

Among other noteworthy changes since my arrival: dinner conversation is chaos.  Topics move rapidly; sentences are rarely finished.  It’s like watching a tennis game; one where the balls are flying in all directions yet no one is returning them.  I cannot be blamed for this.  The main causal culprit is the diverse topics that need to be discussed at dinner.  Mom would like to cover a Cliffs Notes® version of the day (focused on the day’s high- and low-lights), our life goals and desires, and ways we can better connect and share our innermost feelings.  Dad would like to discuss when and where we can construct either a robot or an Ultralight aircraft (which according to the big book of airplanes takes 1,200 hours to build) and ways we can better connect and share our innermost feelings (kidding!).  Coop and Dev find the logistics behind aircraft construction fascinating, yet also want to better understand nuanced plot details of Star Wars: why did Anakin go over to the dark side?  How might one avoid such migration?  How do you turn a light saber on?  Punctuating the multi-threaded conversational roar are the periodic parental barks of: “Don’t talk with your mouth full!” “Your food doesn’t need to be separated by color!” and “Feet don’t belong on the table!”  Tranquility rarely descends on dinners at our house.

My impact is not all passive; I’ve inspired some behavioral changes in the family through my actions as well.  For example, one of my more enjoyable pastimes is to surprise folks when they change me.  Perhaps it’s the sudden to exposure the air or a little eight-weeker humor, but I’m inspired to pee.  I wish I could hold a camera because the suddenness and the verticality of it never fails to surprise!  The result ends up on the bedspread; sometimes on people.  Cooper caught one of my early performances and, not to be outdone, he quickly dropped trou and peed on the bedspread too.  To make it clear he knew what he was doing, he did a repeat performance twice more that week.  When asked why he peed on the bed, Cooper responds, “Because I wanted to” or “Because I peed on the bed.” With such complete self-knowledge, psychotherapy would clearly be money wasted on him.

My brothers continue to dig the Bing School.  On the playground Dev is conversationally animated – integrating a lot of direct eye contact, a wide range of complex facial expressions and hand gestures tantamount to semaphore.  It’s a good thing that he is so engaging because his abridged version of the spoken English language is distinctly light on subject and verb agreement but rich on nouns for things that create fire, fly or otherwise go.  Consistent with his high-energy form of social expression, Devon excels at mimicking a dinosaur by “roaring”.  He meets someone he likes, looks in their eyes, grins and belts out a giant, “ROAR!!” (complete with claw-like swipes of his hands in the air). Needless to say, infants and other parents find him soothing.

Coop has an extended vocabulary, but chooses odd times to demonstrate it.  A typical sentence – apropos of nothing: “Excuse me master Yoda, Obi-Wan has made contact,” or “R2, stay with the ship.” As a vocalist, he is most in touch with his inner homeboy.  Tupac and Notorious B.I.G. are in his iPod now and he knows all the non-explicit lyrics to California Love (“Cal-i-forn-ia…knows how to party.  Cal-i-forn-ia… knows how to party.  In the city.  City of Compton”). He’s also made progress with his diet.  He recently broke his strict sugar & carb-only regimen of pancakes and whipped cream for a periodic bacon strip or chicken nugget.  Adult behavior-molding around his interest in becoming “big and strong,” (like Anakin Skywalker) has helped here, especially now that I have arrived to take over from him as the “tiny” member of the family.  As noted in earlier editions of this letter, Coop looks to others to find things that he wants to play with.  He uses all available means to persuade others to share, up to and including repeated strong emphasis of his interest in the item in question.  As a beneficial side-effect Cooper excels at apologizing.  I swear, he is constantly dong something then apologizing.  His next challenge: actual remorse.

Dad continues a fierce pace at work. He frequently travels to exotic, far away places like San Diego and Sydney, bringing us back native trinkets. Mom’s officially on leave from Stanford, but this hasn’t stopped her from pounding on the keyboard and grousing about broadband speeds at every opportunity. Naturally, her priority is feeding me.  Food, food, food.  I love it!  Mom enjoys it too; it gives us a chance to discuss life goals and desires, as well as our innermost feelings.  At this point I hold up my end of the conversation through eye-contact and sometimes a smile.

With all that is happening in the world we know we are unbelievably lucky and have no end of things to be thankful for. We have parents who adore us, grandparents, aunts & uncles who shower us with love, a soccer team of cousins (Elliott, Maile, Sami, Kailyn), and our nanny Tata who with her family nourishes us in every imaginable sense of the word.

It’s A Lowercase “G” Thing (2004)

Posted on by Andy

Devon, working on deadline.

Once again Coop and I have been drafted to distribute the Smith /Aaker family holiday cheer (the slash rather than dash between the names is intended to indicate that some family members have the last name Smith, while a holdout (you know who) stubbornly holds on to Aaker).

Coop and I had another great year.  Our still relatively diminutive bodies are finally catching up with our intellect.  We can both run quite quickly, particularly when pursued by someone wishing to remove an object (e.g., a knife, permanent marker) from our custody.  While self-determination is important, getting caught is usually fun, particularly if the catcher picks you up by your feet.  Being under three, however, we are prone to rookie mistakes.  Here’s a typical scenario: one of us is already “caught” (Cooper) – and the other (me) is hiding in a place that nobody would ever think to look (let’s say, behind the hanging clothes in the closet).  Mom and Dad come to hunt me down. Inevitably Cooper forgets that he’s my partner at this point and comes looking for me.  Because we’ve got the psychic twin connection going on, he knows where I am and leads the Feds right to my hideout, squealing and jumping up and down, “Here he is!”  Frustration doesn’t begin to explain what I feel.

While we continue to be best pals, Coop and I also continue to define our differences.  I like to eat anything that dad eats (espresso, plain yogurt, sour dried Hawaiian plums, etc.).  Coop likes pizza crust and cookies.  Sometimes he’ll eat some turkey jerky with me, but it’s rare.  I also really dig exploring nooks and crannies throughout the house with a flashlight.  Coop’s more about putting all he can fit into his golf bag and shuttling from room to room.

In terms of developments – I would say the biggest one is our maturation.  We are wise beyond our years.  In support: we have outgrown Baby Einstein videos (featuring that smug mom and her children) and Teletubbies (it’s unclear what we ever saw in them).  Currently, we give two thumbs up to Shrek (Donkey rocks), Toy Story (Buzz rocks), and CNN due to the ever-moving ticker (my GOOG is up).  Further, we have recently developed hobbies.  Turns out that we have a passion for cars. Indeed some of our most enjoyable moments are spent finding keys, bringing them downstairs, and inserting them into any open space found in Dad’s convertible – gaps in the door, cracks around headlights, (creating) small puncture holes in the tires. We are also big on planes, trains, bikes and boats.  We think transportation is a big idea.

In terms of concrete highlights of the year: For a month we lived in NYC (mom had sabbatical there, dad worked out of Dolby, NY) in a 2-bedroom apartment.  Compactness of domicile meant we couldn’t be ignored – no matter the hour.  This trip was followed by some R&R in Maui, where we spent most of the time sprinting naked through the surf or under a hose.  We realize there isn’t likely much more time where we can run around naked without it becoming an “issue” so we made the most of it.

But life is not all jet-set cosmopolitan living and watching big folks enjoy sundowners. We work hard too. This fall we matriculated at Stanford. The fact that our program is referred to as Bing Nursery School is an insignificant detail; it’s on the Stanford campus.  Our plan: refuse to leave until we finish our graduate degrees.  They’re unlikely to kick us out as I captain the debate team and Cooper has a way with the ladies. Further, we excel at our coursework, particularly in Lego Architecture, Fundamentals of Aviation and Sand Structure Engineering and Demolition.

Over the course of the year, Mom and Dad – in support of our apprenticeship with Bob the Builder invited a series of guests to comprise our construction seminar.  Art the landscaper put in our fountain (and he was great to say “Hi, Art!” to, but then he unaccountably disappeared).  Bert the wire guy put in some outdoor outlets to power the fountain.  Despite his name, he was not yellow with a single tuft of hair on his head – a letdown.  Steve the stone guy was cool but he built our kick-ass biking course (a.k.a. “terrace”) so quickly we hardly got time to know each other.

In terms of updates on Mom and Dad: Frankly, they’re not developing as quickly.  They are constantly taking off for “work.”  When asked why they have to go “work,” we are told that you “fix” things at work.  Since fixing things is cool, we give it thumbs up too and are in process of interviewing for a “job.”  Our applications to work with Art, Bert and Steve have been rejected, but odds look good on getting some work in Papa’s home office, as he often breaks things and has no standards for repair.
We are thankful for much – including parents who love us, Tata who nourishes us in every imaginable sense of the word, and a new young cousin, Elliott, who we are going to mentor and inspire.  We particularly enjoy our cousins – Sami (4) who mothers us, Maile (2), our partner in crime, and Oscar (Jojo and Brian’s dog) who serves as a comfortable if furry pillow for Cooper.  We also find Papa and Nana to be a delight.  Papa is particularly fun as he’s not nearly as oppressively attentive as Nana, Mom or Dad, or really any other sentient being we’ve encountered.  Indeed, life can’t get any better.

The Parent-Child Dictonary (2003)

Posted on by Andy

Cooper as a cherub

Burlingame, California

Holiday greetings all, Cooper here.

Last year you heard from Dev, now it’s my turn. In the past year, I have developed some striking new abilities. First, I too can now type. I should note that my typing ability pales in comparison to my command of the spoken word.  My vocabulary now includes such important terms as “baby” to indicate television shows that I like, “squirrel” (pronounced and spelled “qrl”), “daddy” a meta-term ostensibly covering both parents, “Bonjia” a simpler and more cheerful Portuguese way of saying “Good morning,” and “ball” which seems to be a good catch-all term for most other things. Recently I have also acquired the ability to shake my head violently to indicate “no.”  My parents nurtured this skill, both when they try to feed me unwelcome food and/or do that awful nose-wiping thing.  I don’t actually say “no” because then I’d be on the hook to respond to it.  My otherwise brilliant brother didn’t anticipate this adult deduction.  This is why I recommend the “selective fast-follower strategy” to all in my cohort.

Devon is my best friend. He has a short, make that microscopic, attention span. Like Dad, his favorite toy is a remote, or really anything with buttons (that pretty much goes for me, too). Like Mom, his next favorite toy is a computer keyboard. We both enjoy cell phones. It is remarkable how many calls we get.

Despite some similarities (which cause strangers to occasionally get us mixed up), we have striking differences. My extended vocabulary, illustrated above, is one.  A second is physical motivation. Indeed, Devon only recently convinced me that it was worth the effort to walk without someone holding your hand.  However, I should note that my previous strategy of demanding assistance while walking was in many regards pure genius because it delivered a 1) reduced fall rate and 2) built-in strolling companion. Devon argued the downsides. For example, on average, you tend to go the places where the hand-holder wants to go, rather than where you want to go.  Additionally, as walking is really a form of reconnaissance, all the discoveries you make in the presence of the hand-holder instantaneously become the property of the other side.  Regardless, I maintained my strategy for an extra six months.

For our 1-year birthday, Mom and Dad threw us five small birthday parties (one of which involved cocktails and just their friends; so I hesitate to count that).  They also decided to give us the benefit of improved aerodynamics. By which, of course, I mean they shaved our heads.  Bald. Skin-head. Cue-ball. There is some debate about the rationale underlying this decision but Tata (Fatima – our best pal) says that in Brazil, hair grows back thicker when heads are shaved.  Apparently this only applies to Equatorial areas near the Amazon. Because it didn’t work for us.

But back to Devon. He’s great to have around, particularly when he’s not biting me.  While we both often want to play with the same toy, he has been encouraged to share and often does so without prompting.  I think that’s just crazy.  If you have something you want, why give it away?  When I am told to, “Share, Cooper” – all I hear is: “You found something cool. Your brother knows this, so he wants it. Why don’t you give it to him now?”  How screwed up is that?

Lest I give you the wrong impression, Devon is no mute.  He knows what he’s saying.  I know what he’s saying.  It’s just beyond the understanding of adults.  Devon actually speaks in complete sentences, asks questions, responds thoughtfully to inquiries and gives audible updates on his activities and discoveries.  Mom and Dad would be embarrassed if they knew how clueless they sound when they say: “Yes, Devon, Daddy’s going to work.  Say bye-bye!” in response to his statement: “Hey Dad, ponder this deal: I’ll give you and the rest of Dolby management some insights to punch up your global marketing strategy; you just need to let me drive you to work.”

However the good news is that in general we are starting to understand each other.  Well, Mom and Dad have room for improvement in their understanding of what we are saying to them, but we totally get what Mom and Dad are saying to us.  Indeed, we have begun to compile our own simple, easy-to-use Parent/Child dictionary:

What Mom and Dad say:    What we hear:

Come here please.             Flee!  Flee quickly!  Hide if possible!

Tata’s here!                      Great news!  Better food is imminent.

No!                                  You found the most interesting thing in the room!

Unfortunately, dictionary-creation is going slowly because they keep taking the pens away from us.   Mom continues to enjoy her work at Stanford and never seems to tire of banging on computer keyboards. Our Dad is Zen-like in his tolerance of all the teasing he gets for setting up awesome audio/video systems that regularly stump civilians but which also recently baffled the TV repairman (when he couldn’t figure out how to turn on the TV to see what was wrong with it). When pressed by techno-inferiors, Dad claims such a system is required for his job at Dolby.  We are anxious to help, but have not yet been enlisted.

We are thankful for much – our loving family including the best grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins ever, wonderful friends including a fabulous nanny and pal, Fatima. We’re young, but we know we are truly blessed.Love, Cooper (penning also for Devon)

Taking Matters Into Our Own Hands (2002)

Posted on by Andy

December 2002
Burlingame, California

Dear friends and family of Jennifer and Andy (Mom and Dad) and our friends too –

We hope this note finds you, and your loved ones happy and healthy this holiday season. Mom and Dad are slow in getting together our first nuclear family holiday letter, so Coop and I took matters into our own hands (which though rather small are surprisingly strong, and really fascinating to look at too).

We’ve learned a lot in the past eight months on the outside. The preceding eight on the inside were useful too – perhaps focused on more elemental forms of growth, but with our close proximity to each other they formed the basis for our special brotherhood. We both acknowledge that Cooper got the better real estate in the womb, leading to his larger initial size, but I have many compensating abilities – among them the uncanny ability to type. So we are calling it even.

These structural differences from our time in the womb lead us each to approach life somewhat differently. Cooper appears to believe that pretty much everything will come his way – a reasonable assumption, since everything always has, and with no effort on his part I might add. I, on the other hand, having been a bit crowded and somewhat further from the good snacks – recognize the importance of seizing every thing or opportunity just as it comes within range. This requires constant alertness, preparedness and vigilance. But it comes at a cost of outwardly appearing serious, intense and hard working. Cooper, as I noted earlier, does not live by this code, but adheres to his own. For example, while I expend much energy eating, sleeping (as little as necessary) and discovering things, Cooper – much like a scuba diver trying to conserve his air – simply observes my actions, and copies the things I do that seem to work. Thus (yes, I use words like ‘thus’ seamlessly in conversation already), he is not usually the first to market, but is a fast follower in the areas of holding his head up, standing, and playing with objects. Some might actually argue that he has lead in the areas of eye contact, smiling, laughing, and watching (educational TV). Lest you think otherwise (yes, ‘lest’), I should note here that I am not bitter about this. However, I will say it took me months of hard and frustrating work before I was able to roll over. He, on the other hand, leveraged his biggest asset (his giant noggin) to its best advantage, using its mass and momentum to throw himself in the direction he chose – thereby also rolling over and doing so shortly after I did.

Most recently, I have focused on standing, preferably standing while moving. Cooper likes to watch me do this, and occasionally joins me for a brotherly stand – all the while toothlessly cheering me on with his giant, goofy grin. Indeed, we are conversing more and more in our secret twin language, centered primarily on the sounds “eeee” and “oooo.” Dad thinks he knows what we are saying, but he hasn’t a clue. Just as well – if he knew we were discussing stock tips, he’d probably trade on that information, and before you know it, there goes the house. Our typical interaction follows this pattern: I stare at Cooper, Coop smiles at me with his big toothless grin, I look at what Coop has in his hands, I decide to show Coop how to use it more effectively, Coop indicates that he would prefer to keep it, I decide that Coop’s hand (or ear) would be fine to play with instead, Coop thinks he would like to retain his hand, I pull, Coop yanks, Coop wins but then I pull on his sleeve in order to recapture my hard-won hand. Cooper usually wins, but I am gaining in momentum.

I guess we should pause to say a few words about Mom and Dad. Though it may sound a little self-absorbed for us to mention it, we appear to be the most important thing that has happened to them this year. Mom enjoys her work at Stanford. When not there, she continues her relentless pounding on the computer and email. I try to periodically give her a break by taking over the pounding for her, but she generally declines my offer to take over her work. Dad enjoys his work as the “Brand Guy” at Dolby and his newfound vocation as residential remodeling contractor (a side note: Mom and Dad have been remodeling the house since about the day we were born, a project that they say will end someday, but when something has been going on for literally your ENTIRE LIFE, you tend to be skeptical).

We have much to be thankful for – our loving family including the best grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins ever, a trip to Virginia to be with the extended Smith family (Tim, Mary Ellen, Tyler, Sarah Elizabeth, Toby, Chris, Kacie, Brenna, Andy, Jennifer, Cooper and me) for Thanksgiving, a fabulous nanny and friend, Fatima – and a remarkable, wonderful and warm home with Grandma and Grandpa Aaker for the last 8 months (including much TLC, all you can eat, and dry cleaning). We are truly blessed.

Devon (penning also for Cooper)