Guess what?

Yesterday evening  I got an email I have been waiting for since September of last year.

Hey David,

Your bikes have arrived YAY!

The mechanic will call when the bikes are ready for collection.

Timm

I can't begin to express how exciting this is! 

I just had to post to mark the occasion.
 

What's with branding and logos?

 My friend Steve Williams of Scooter in the sticks fame asked questions, and he deserves answers.

"Where will the new logo appear? A new logo for the blog? A new blog? On a T-shirt?"

Some answers are simple and straightforward:

Definitely not a new blog. If this blog's confines become too much, the blog will evolve, there won't be a new blog; but... 

... the YouTube channel will adapt to featuring bicycle content and as I began to prepare for that, I felt that the Brompton bits will need their own context, hence the logo. It still needs words. This morning in the shower "the fold" came to mind. I think that works for me.

On a T-shirt? I've never done that. Bill Leuthold of Rocket and me gave me a T-shrt with his blog branding on it. I generally avoid all branding on clothing if possible. To every rule there are bound to be exceptions. My two armoured moto jackets are those exceptions. I have badges sewn on those jackets for ModernVespa.com, the world's best Vespa forum, for the Vespa Club of Canada, to commemorate my Vespa jaunt in Tuscany, to mark the first 10,000 miles commuting on my Vespa, and yes... the logo for Life on Two Wheels is sewn on there too.

I have debated getting stickers made for the new Brompton adventures logo and sticking them on my bike and on the Vespa. The jury's still out on that one.

Mostly the new logo will serve on the vlog to brand videos that are Brompton specific.

Why bother?

I suppose that's really where I should focus this post.

I have always been interested in branding.

Branding was something that was only an option for the largest fanciest companies, and logos were the sine qua non of every branding exercise. Growing up with 1960's TV culture in the suburbs, logos were prominent everywhere, for grocery and drugstore chains, gas stations, TV and radio stations, and other large national retailers.

When, many years later, building my own web presence became possible, branding became something I could do too.

And so it began. I could brand myself, brand my ideas, brand the vehicles of my modes of expression, both tangible and intangible.

My first logo was for my personal web site. I wrote the code for that site from scratch. Computer technology went from the beast I thought would doom my career, to a beast I managed to tame and that helped to advance my career. I personally wrote all the code for my firm's web site with the result that my firm was one of the first law firms in Canada with a web presence.

My early-adopter computer literacy made it a no-brainer for me to co-opt @, one of the dominant iconic internet symbols as a basis for my personal logo.

My personal web site dates from 1997. Until then I used my law firm's web site to publish my ideas. In 1997 I left the firm to take on new challenges. I couldn't give up having a web site. My dear friend Andrew got in touch at about the same time to suggest that I snap up my name in the .org domain. and that is how masse.org was born. The logo came along just a little later.

My next foray into branding came along much later, in 2015, when I redesigned this blog. That was when the Life on Two Wheels logo was born.

That was back when my life was caught up in a slow motion explosion. I am glad I documented that. It was among the most amazing and enriching experiences of my life.

An opportunity came along in the wake of all that change to teach records management in the context of corporate governance. Once more branding exercises more or less imposed themselves: one for the cover of the book I wrote...

... and one for the related governance consulting business...

So perhaps now the inevitability of the new logo for Brompton adventures becomes more apparent.

None of the foregoing branding exercises generate anything resembling income. In that respect these are are not sources of tangible value. In fact, after mulling it over, even if Brompton videos generate a lot of traffic, I'm pretty sure that I don't want to monetize the YouTube channel. I find YouTube advertising increasingly annoying and intrusive. It's as if the algorithm is being used to make the experience of watching YouTube videos you like so painful that you'll opt for the paid subscription to get rid of the advertising.

There you have it Steve.

My love of branding is just a hobby. Something I do just for fun, as I enjoy masquerading as a bunch of logo-worthy enterprises.

10-year-old me would be so impressed.

Although in truth, my logos would fail to tear his attention away from flat screen TVs, iPhones, iPads, AirPods, GPS, proximity sensors in the car, all the remote controlled lights and thermostats... 

The story of life on two wheels

 

One more than one occasion I have told the story here about the two-wheeled path my life has often taken. I won't cover the same ground again today. Those stories are easy enough to find on the chronology page above. I re-read them just now. They brought back fond memories, and while I read, it was like traveling in time. I could see the scenes unfolding in my mind, experiencing the same emotions I felt all those years ago. That is the wonder of keeping a journal, and the amazing thing about keeping one online, like this.

I don't recall explaining how Life on Two Wheels became the new name for this journal. I looked over the posts I wrote when the new look was unveiled, but I didn't find that topic covered.

 Life on Two Wheels owes its name in no small way to my mom.

My mother was someone who was always ready for whatever the day's mission was a good half-hour to forty-five minutes earlier than the most punctual person would have dared.

It was annoying. 

Picture Queen Elizabeth, standing ramrod straight, in a signature bland sky blue cloth coat, her purse hanging on her arm bent at the elbow, a matching bland hat topping off the look, with a slight  but unmistakable "we are not amused" scowl.

That was my mother standing in the hallway, visibly annoyed that she was the only one in the household poised for departure. When, moments later, my mother would begin hectoring us to leave without further delay, she would often plead "Please, I want to get going, I really don't want to be heading there on two wheels!"

"... on two wheels..."

Whenever that happened, I pictured a car careening around a corner on two wheels.

Perversely, I developed a certain appreciation for things going off on two wheels. In my way of seeing things, it evoked a dashing adventure rather than the impending disaster my mother always feared.

And that's a part of how this journal got its new name.  The other part is well... two wheels.

Today is, by my reckoning, 31 days to Bromptons. By that I mean that our Brompton bikes are supposed to be in the production line, in London, within easy cycling range of Buckingham palace, on week 7, from the 15th to the 21st of February. Once built, they arrive here within two weeks. Hence the 31 days. Yes, I know, that's foolishly optimistic, what with Covid mucking up the works.

If it sounds like I'm counting down the days, I certainly am not. I have an Excel function doing that for me.

What to do as the dawn of a new two-wheeled adventure remains just over the horizon?

Work on a logo of course.

A new adventure like this deserves its own branding.

I wouldn't dream of misusing or abusing the manufacturer's logos, that just wouldn't do. 

So I came up with my own that is mine and mine alone, to do with as I please.

 

I also ordered two new bike helmets, a white one for Susan (her choice) and a black one for me.

Hmmmm... the temptation to order stickers...

No caller ID... a tiny act of kindness

This afternoon I received an anonymous call.

Anonymous in the sense that my phone said "No caller ID".

For some reason I resisted the temptation to dodge the call, which is my first instinct, and the thing I usually do.

I answered in my usual guarded tentative way.

"... hello?" 

The voice on the phone didn't sound one bit like a telemarketer. If anything, the voice seemed polite, earnest, and measured, and, if anything, sounded a little like I would expect a call from the North Pole might sound.

But what the mystery caller was saying I was having a difficult time coming to terms with.

"I sent you my business card?"

What the... ?

I denied sending anyone my business card. It was weird. Why would I do that?

He was doing his best to explain, to ease my obvious concern. I mean, how else did he get my number, Mr. No Caller ID?

The call was going sideways quickly, until he said that his daughter was the one who had solicited my business card...

My suspicious, wary, slow-motion brain finally made the connection, just in the knick of time. The dark murky veil that was about to eclipse the call suddenly fell away as a warm ray of sunshine finally appeared. 

Back in late November, I received a message from a lawyers' email list I subscribe to. It's what I would call a serious message board and the members tend to be prominent highfalutin legal eagles. I tend to be a lurker, not a mover and a shaker.

99.09% of the emails, as you might expect, stick to the legal topic at hand.

Then there's that 0.01% that stray from the path.

In this case, the lawyer, apologizing for the interruption, inquired ever so politely, if anyone on the list would mind sparing a business card.

Good morning, 

My dad collects business cards (hey, everyone needs a hobby!).  He is 74 years old and lives in an assisted living seniors’ residence here in Winnipeg.  Due to COVID restrictions, I have not been able to visit him for several weeks.  I’m not sure what Christmas will bring.  But I know that he would LOVE to get more business cards for his collection.  So, if you (a) have a business card; (b) have access to same; and (c) can spare one business card, an envelope and a stamp, please respond to this e-mail and I will send you my dad’s mailing address.

Thanks for your help with my little Christmas project.  Apologies for trespassing on the list with this personal request.

How could I resist? I lost no time rustling up an envelope and gathering some cards, including one of the precious few of my late Dad's pre-retirement circa 1993 business cards (I knew my Dad would be pleased).

 Hi...

It's on its way:

Denis Masse - Kodak, VP Ottawa (retired)

David Masse - Caravel Law, lawyer

David Masse - Governance View, consultant

David Masse - Governance Professionals of Canada, Chairman (former)

David Masse - Life on two wheels, explorer

Warm regards and best wishes to you and your Dad for Christmas!

 Roy was calling to thank me for the cards.

I have to say, I think that my little November gesture brought me as much joy on this cold dreary grey January afternoon, as it may have brought for Roy.

We had a great chat. I asked Roy who the most important person was in his collection. He paused to consider, as he cast his mind's eye over the more than 17,000 cards in his possession. "Pierre Trudeau" he said. I had the honour to meet our former Prime Minister in 1997, and if I had his business card it would be the top of my collection too.

I am sharing this little story because we are all in serious need of small acts of kindness.

Do what you can.

Art therapy for the 2020 blues

Finally, episode 47 of my video journal is one for the history books. The last upload for 2020. It's 9:37, the clock is ticking fast now.

This process of creating video content is truly challenging.

I have an idea that I want to share, I have a vague impression in my mind, I know enough about the tools I have at my disposal to figure out how to combine the pieces into a whole that approximates my vision for the piece, and I have the time to devote to the project.

I really enjoy the work, and sometimes I feel that I have come fairly close to producing something that I like, at least in some respects.

The interesting thing is that every episode is built with content layer upon layer, upon layer, all created to some extent by me, or at least content that I select for inclusion. Sometimes, as here, my contribution is small compared to the work of others that I have sampled and mixed into the ultimate end product. Yet the soundtrack, the images, and the video clips are included, sequenced, and presented in a way that is unique. 

The only thing that is all mine, for which I am solely responsible, beyond the editing, is the narrative that seeks to bind the overall experience.

In this case, the biggest challenge was creating a narrative that conveyed the message I was striving to share. As the layers accumulate, each editing step adds an element of structure that, as the work progresses, creates a larger and larger shape that becomes less and less malleable.

The fear that wells up, is that there may not be a path through the content for a coherent narrative that conveys my intended message.

The thing that makes the challenge really exquisite is that while the vision for the ultimate message is constant, the narrative remains vague.

There are drafts of bits and pieces, outlines, snippets, that I create as the work progresses, that guide the editing, but, no final narrative that I know will work.

An easier path would be to write the narrative as I would with a paper, or an essay.

The reason I don't do that, is that reading a prepared script destroys the most important aspect of the narrative. When I have tried that, it ends up sounding stilted, like a middling high schooler reading a composition in the classroom.

The approach I used for this episode is to record the narrative once the editing is almost done.

I try to imagine that the camera I am speaking to is you, the viewer, and that we are having a conversation. 

While doing that, I need to make eye contact with you, to look you in the eye, not with so much intensity as to be unsettling, but with enough engagement with you that you will stay with me until my message is complete.

While striving to do that magic trick, I need to avoid hemming and hah-ing, and repetitive annoying speech mannerisms that is a large part of how we humans, who aren't network news anchors, tend to communicate with each other.

Finally, exspecially with the topic of this episode, how do I not come off as someone whose only incentive is to show off an art collectiion in a self-aggrandizing, pompous way.

The cumulative effect of doing this kind of creative work is that the fear of failure grows within me with each step I take. Every time I return to editing, I come to the keyboard with a feeling that I have missed the mark, that I will hate the thing that I thought was more or less allright when I last stepped away. 

Fortunately, so far, it's never quite as bad as I fear.

Then the tweaking continues, and the clips that I cut litter the virtual cutting room floor, and pile up as the episode progresses and approaches its final shape.

I hope I have achieved something close to what I was seeking.

Happy new year to all of you. Soon time to pop the cork on the bubbly!

The music for this episode of Life on two wheels is Hovering Thoughts by Spence, Sarabande by Joel Cummins, Night Snow and Hopeful Freedom by Asher Fulero, all made available courtesy of the YouTube Audio Library.

It's 9:49. I made it.

Taking stock as a new year looms

 I did something today I rarely do. 

Looking to copy a New York Times recipe for fried chicken and looking for a medium on my iPad paste the recipe into, I opened Pages, the Apple word processor. 

It was like opening a chest in the attic. Bits and pieces of draft correspondence, work-related memos from a time that has lost most of its relevance. Like a trove of old snapshots of infants long since adults, cars that are no longer, homes that have drifted from view.

Among the litter was an introspective piece I wrote that was intended as the landing page of a new blog that never saw the light of day. There is nothing I wrote that is not still absolutely true. Other than the dragon blog that never became more than a passing fancy. I did write here about dragon themes. You can find them with the help of Google, or click here where I have done the search for you.

Now I remember that I also used my iPad to create an image for the would-be blog. A dragon, for reasons that will shortly become apparent. I tried to find the image, but somehow. all my content in the app I used has somehow been blitzed into oblivion.

All that was in the fall of 2013, just over seven years ago. It turned out that the horizon I imagined where my world would change in a slow dreamy whirlwind was only two years away, events that I barely could have imagined at the time, with extremely positive outcomes I could never have foreseen. I wrote about that here.

I am struck by the candor of what I had proposed to publish for the world to see back in the fall of 2013. So struck, that I am publishing it here. I am setting it in italic to delineate past from present. 

“What's up?

I'm up!

I'm moving up, moving out, growing up, reaching out.

I was born in the year of the Dragon, but I didn't know it.

My mother gave me a Chinese autograph stamp one Christmas.  Made of jade, its base served as a pedestal for a dragon.  She told me my name was engraved in Chinese characters on the base and that it was a dragon stamp because I was born in the year of the dragon.

I no longer remember when that was, but it was many years ago.

2012 was the year of the Dragon.

For a long time, I didn't have a firm sense of who I was.

I recognize my mother's shy little boy in me.  That boy became a teenager, then a man.  A faithful husband.  A loving, caring father.  Not in any sense a dragon.

Somewhere along the way I struggled to understand who I might become.  Confidence was elusive.  Success was hard won.  I often felt that others achieved more easily, more certainly.   When I look back, I see a tentative me.  Some part of me always holding back.  Wary of committing myself.  Content to accept what was on offer.  Cautiously keeping to the middle of the road. 

My outlook was deeply coloured by my earliest experiences in school.

When I think about this (and I have to say that I thought about this many times in my life) a memory often comes to mind.  The flaming carrot-top, outspoken, goody-two-shoes, earnest-to-a-fault, whip-smart, front-row-sitting, teacher's pet, first grade class president.

And there I was, lurking in the back rows, one of two non french-speaking kids in a sea of glib easy-speakers, unable to understand, barely coping, a fish out of water, isolated, wary, sometimes mocked, usually ignored, I might as well have been on an alien planet learning to breathe water.

I consoled myself by thinking that carrot-top had made the critical error of peaking too early.  In first grade.  I liked to think that by sixth grade he was slowly cruising to the bottom, headed to the back of the class, washed up, soon to be expelled.  I am now certain that he excelled all along. 

That early French immersion challenge my parents tossed my way was the right thing for me.  Eventually, pretty quickly in fact, I became fluent in my father's mother-tongue and the culture of Quebec.  A critical skill that serves me well to this day.  It was a harsh way to learn though.  No mercy.  Thrown into the deep end to learn how to swim on my own.

Those early years in school coloured my life.  They made me a believer in the importance of surfing the life-curve, moving slowly and warily to find the right wave that would let me ride to safety.

At some point this strategy began ebbing, threats loomed.  By then I had responsibilities to shoulder.  It wasn't just me.  My family depended on me.  For food, for shelter, for lessons.  If I was content to live quietly, it wouldn't do for those who depended on me.

In time, facing my fears, forcing myself into the unknown, I began to find confidence that I never had.  I found it easier to venture out when the objective was to serve others.  To ensure I was a reliable source of support for my family.  To contribute to the success of my firm, my community, my profession.

Today, I can say this.  I have the curiosity and courage to meet challenges head on.  I have learned to walk, eyes open and looking forward, towards the things that intimidate.  I have learned to deal with the fear of the unknown that paralyzes, by reaching out to learn.  I have, more than once, found myself in challenging situations, when the risks were tangible.  I always felt that learning was the key.  That's my weapon of choice.

That attitude led me to volunteer.  

More recently, I have learned to reach out for things I want.  To assert myself.

All those lessons.  And here I am.

I may be close to becoming the dragon that was lurking in me all this time.

That is the theme I will explore here.

I'm in no rush, so don't expect a flood of posts.

I'm working on a huge project.  Although I have enjoyed a lot of success, and the beginning of an amazing adventure is in sight, there is still a lot to do.  I think of it as rolling a boulder up a hill.  I'm close to cresting the hill.  I have some momentum.  The rest, as they say, may well be a downward slope with less pushing and more guiding to do.

Time will tell.

One of the skills I have is that I can write.  I just don't know how well I can write.

Like many would be writers, I have a novel in the works.  So far I haven't had much time to devote to it.  I have too many full-time jobs at present.

I may decide to try some of the material from the novel out here.  Just to see if anyone likes it.  One of the harshest critiques of someone's writing I have come across is this: "That's not writing, that's typing!"  I sincerely hope never to hear any criticism quite that mean-spirited 

So there you have it.

The bare beginning of yet another blog.”

I like what I wrote back then. The novel? I haven't touched it. Still too many jobs. It's a little sad, if I have to maintain that soul-bearing candor.

Maybe 2021 will be a year that sees me return to the draft.