Tag: devon

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.

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.

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.

 

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)