Of course there’s no coded agenda here.
It’s a delicious feeling to share something special. Unless it’s an ice cream. Or any dessert. Or a spouse. Or…yeah, now that I think about it, there’s quite a few exceptions. Yet still, there’s a bond that comes from sharing special things.
My brother, affectionately nomenclatured by me as Admiral James, is one of my favourite people in the whole wide universe.
We have a shared love for books, movies, beaches, and scintillating conversation that zips along like a Tokyo maglev train…only our dialog train leaps from one subject track to another like Bob Beamon in Mexico City air.**
When you’re around some people who are smart, they make you feel dumber. Because it’s important to them that you know and recognize that they’re smart.
But the smartest people help others feel smart too. They lift up. That whole ‘rising tide’ thing. Jamey’s one of those people. I have learned so much from him about the importance of not always speaking up when you know something; of how to sometimes keep your mouth shut and your hand down and how to
let others have the last word sometimes.
Again: to let others have the last word sometimes.
This a really, really hard thing to do. Especially when you’ve got some juicy or hyper-articulate response to close things out. But to realise that great conversation is not about answering questions or shutting down dialog…it’s about keeping the ball moving. Keeping participants engaged.
Letting others have their say, listening to them well, and letting others also have the last word.
I have seen him plenty of times laugh and chuckle and sometimes be the target of jest or jokes…and laugh along. Not because he’s intimidated or afraid or doesn’t know what to say. Because he understands the value of relationships and of not shutting people out or shutting them down.
I love that. It makes him that rare mix of intellect, humor, and easy-going personality that can shift from low-brow to high-brow discussions fluently, and keeps everyone fresh, on their toes, and feeling good about creating moments and memories.
Also, he loves our kids. We share that too.
If you ever need a stimulating discussion about the importance of Eric Van Lustbader in 20th century espionage literature…there’s no better place to start than with Admiral James.
Respect.
*looking at you, ‘80s spy thrillers
**Bob Beamon was the guy who shattered the existing long jump record in the 1968 Mexico City Olympics. In a sport where records are usually made in inches or fractions of an inch…he beat the old record by 55 centimeters. That’s over a foot and a half. Still stunning, even after Mike Powell broke it in ‘91. Here’s the thing: I just explained the backstory to my Beamon reference. Jamey and I hopscotch across conversations and bury cultural, historical, and political references all throughout, knowing the other will get it in real time ninety percent of the time.
The Disappearing.
The art of sneaking up is becoming a lost one;
spying a lost art.
Not the lame NSA kind that brazenly makes phone taps and Constitutional breaches casual reality;
but the real kind of spying, that involves:
patience,
total concentration,
focused breathing,
perhaps a degree of athletic prowess,
and innate sense of timing.
Of course knowledge that the only prize at the end is the internal satisfaction of having totally gotten somebody good.
There are a few things that I say without arrogance, just as hard fact; one is this:
I am an incredible spy.
Someday the Master must pass along the baton,
which is why I am drilling the next generation to excel in this disappearing art form.
Practice, practice.
Someday, they'll thank me.
Like we'll all someday thank Mr. Snowden.
