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Making
things happen - with integrity. A weekly CyberMemo designed to keep you on task. Monday March 5, 2001 Volume III Number 10 |
FOCUS - Finding the Dolphins
A well-known investment advisor in our town told a story to a breakfast gathering that he said illustrates best where investors go wrong.
It was on a vacation in the Caribbean on an island in the Bahamas that he and his then elementary school aged son snorkeled in the shallow waters of a lagoon just off a white sandy beach, chasing the colorful fish and sea life of the tropics, laughing and playing.
The setting could well have been made a poster, enticing the rest of the world from the travel agent’s wall to buy a plane ticket and escape to Paradise.
The water ebbed and flowed gently on that sunny day as the dad and his boy held their breath and explored the corral reefs through the glass of a facemask, and the rocks hiding starfish and little guppies and platyfish and mollies and swordtails and zebras and neon tetra. They even saw an eel hiding in the shadows and what looked like a school of barracuda off in the distance just below the surface in the crystal clear waters. And there in the sand, the wide wings of a sting-ray moved and loosened from its hiding place on the bottom, camouflaged no more, and swam gracefully away from this human intrusion.
The boy surfaced, and called to his dad, “Wow, did you see THAT?!”
But the best was yet to come.
They heard a splash. And then another. And then squeaking voices sounding like laughter.
The two of them turned, just in time to see their own version of Sea World in the wild. A half dozen dolphins were playing just out of reach in the deeper waters of the lagoon. The two guys together stood up on the sand in the shallow lagoon and watched the sea mammals perform. These behaviors are natural. No human trainer required. No whistles. No fish-bait as positive reinforcement. No stereo system or Jumbotron to replay the action in slo-mo. Just chattering dolphins jumping and flipping and scooting backwards on their tails all with built in smiles and celebrating the day with a father and son out there in a blue lagoon.
The dad and his boy laughed along with the dolphins, and looked at each other and laughed some more. “Wow…” said the dad, “is this incredible or what?”
“Incredible,” said the boy. He couldn’t wait to tell his mom.
The show ended, and the dolphins disappeared into the blue waters as two or three kayaks came up from the beach. The occupants looked official, with vests and badges and caps with authoritative emblems. “You shouldn’t be out here near the dolphins,” they scolded.
“We’re just snorkeling,” explained the dad.
“Yes. Well, where are they? The dolphins, where did they go?”
It was clear that these officials, in spite of the warning, wanted a close look too.
“Over there,” the boy pointed. “That’s where they were.”
The three men started paddling, off in the direction of the absent dolphins. When they got to the end of the reef, they disappeared around the bend. The dad and his son shrugged and went back to their exploration. As they surfaced, the school of dolphins re-appeared this time to the West away from the reef, and the two watched once more, as delighted as the dolphins in the spray and the splashing and the wonder of the moment.
And then they were gone.
Dad looked back toward the reef, and around the bend, the kayaks returned. As they drew close, the boy asked, “did you find them?”
“No,” said the leader of the bunch, looking weary from paddling.
“Well…” the boy was hesitant. He wasn’t sure he should tell. But he did. “We saw them again… This time over there.” He pointed back the other way. The dad nodded, and then pointed the same direction as his son.
“Thanks,” said the official.
And off they went. Paddling furiously. Hopefully.
* * * * * * * *
We pretended that we belonged. Like we were regulars. Like it was just another Friday night out for dinner.
It’s a posh resort, hidden away in the hills of our county’s most upscale estates – Rancho Santa Fe. At the entrance, the name in brass letters on the stone wall is subtle. The landscaping is tastefully lit the shadows of dusk, the sky black except for the hint of azure blue light on the western horizon, the palms and the birds of paradise and the leafy broad branches sway in a gentle evening breeze. The fichus trees have been shaped over the years, and the branches meander back and forth, up and down, and glow pale gray in the carefully positioned directional lighting. The gate is guarded.
“Yes, your table is waiting,” we are told.
And under the heavy beams of the Great Room, fireplace glowing and warm, the six of us sit in the circle of a round table surrounded by magnificent floral arrangements and candlelight as the waiter unfolds and the places heavy napkins on the ladies’ laps. One of them, a serviette draped over his arm and bow tie under his chin on a stiff white collar, speaks with a confident smile of the specialties of the evening, wonderful exotic sauces and fresh vegetables and wonders from the sea and choice selections of rare cuts of beef and chops and lamb. And while we understand little, and recognize few of the delicacies described with such grace and charm, we nod and “mmmm” at the sounds of the gourmet menu set before us, as though we comprehend perfectly, and smile at one another for this one fantasy evening in a world we only occasionally visit.
We toast our hosts.
I turn to scan the room, wondering what luminaries might be present in such a conspicuous inconspicuous place, and there, one table over in the company of three others next to the fireplace is Gene Wilder.
No doubt about it.
* * * * * * *
The officials in the kayaks never did see the dolphins play. They never saw them at all.
Dolphins
are mammals - miniature whales. Pilot
and killer whales are in point of fact dolphins.
Some call dolphins “porpoises,” but that’s technically incorrect.
Porpoises are a similar species, but another distinct type of whale.
The subjects of fascination for centuries, as far back as the fables of Aesop, dolphins bring their playful personalities to literature. And ships at sea. Sometimes, they are credited with rescues – almost as though they intuit our will to survive, and then assist in the effort of finding the shoreline. Sometimes, we are told, they will even grab a line and tow a lost rowboat along with its occupants to safety.
Dolphins entertain the crews of mighty ships at sea. Hundreds of the gregarious playful animals drawn by the motion of the ship moving through the water, will occasionally gather together in formation to race and jump and flip and ride the wake and the waves created by the massive displacement of the hull and the turning blades of the ship’s propellers.
It’s no wonder that Aesop considered the dolphin the King of the Sea in the same way the Lion is the King of the Jungle. Dolphins have been television stars. Remember Flipper?
Scientists study the superior intelligence of the dolphin and its ability to communicate with a variety of sounds (language?) and ultrasonic pulses. In captivity, with training, dolphins perform to the delight of thousands seated in the bleachers. And Sea World’s largest dolphin of all gets top billing.
Shamu the Killer Whale is really a great big black and white dolphin.
* * * * * *
“Oh my gosh,” I said so Cindy could hear.
She said, “what?”
“It’s the guy who played alongside Richard Pryor in those comedy movies. Remember the line… ‘we bad!’ … and the two of the struttin’ down the hall of a prison? He was the star of ‘Young Frankenstein.’”
“Gene Wilder.” She came up with the name quickly, as though it was a game of Trivial Pursuit.
“That’s it. It’s him, Gene Wilder. Don’t look now,” I whispered. I didn’t think she should turn around and stare, “but he’s sitting at the next table over next to the fireplace.”
“No way,” she said incredulously. “It must be a look-alike.”
“Nope,” I said with confidence. “It’s him. No doubt about it.”
And then Carolyn said, “what?” And the word went around the table of six. And each of us, trying to keep it inconspicuous, took a look.
And then we started calling up the movie memories, laughing at the memorable lines. Mel Brook’s spoof on the old Boris Karlof classic Frankenstein. The outrageous Blazing Saddles.
And we wondered about this series of hilarious movies he did with Richard Pryor and their on screen chemistry and then finally the tragic descent of the comic genius (as many believed) of Pryor into a race toward self-destruction, burning himself beyond recognition while free-basing cocaine and the awful tragedy and waste and Gene Wilder seeing it all happen from close range.
And then that wonderful marriage to Gilda Radner. Her zany characters from Saturday Night Live – Baba Wawa and Anna Rosanna Danna. It’s said that one pivotal, fateful night over dinner, Radner looked across the table at Wilder and said, “Gene, you’ve got to wake up and smell the coffee. I’m the person you need.” They were married in 1984.
But their romance would soon be mixed with more tragedy.
For a long time, Gene and Gilda kept her ovarian cancer a secret. They were hopeful that treatments would clear her of the dreaded disease. She battled heroically for twenty-one and a half years, finally going public to raise awareness and resources for further research and mainly to encourage early detection.
When she died just before her forty-third birthday, she not only left the memories of high comedy, but also, a legacy of courage, conviction and class.
So we talked about the man at the next table over, showing a little age... the distinctive flop of thin curly hair, and the long nose and the quick smile and a thousand faces and the eyes and the big glasses giving him an almost “Woody Allen” look and I wanted to go over there and thank him for the memories and the laughs and tell him I miss Gilda, too.
But this is a classy place where high profile people go so they won’t be bothered by riff-raff.
So instead of making a scene, I just told our waiter, “Please let Mr. Wilder know that it is indeed a pleasure to dine in his company.”
“Sure,” said the waiter, and he confirmed to us all that this Wilder over there was the real thing.
For our table of six, this whole conversational interlude springing from our momentary proximity to stardom was like… well… the serendipitous visitation of a group of dolphins dancing in a blue lagoon.
* * * * * * *
Tim manages a regional office of a national NYSE brokerage house here in our town, and as he addressed our little breakfast group with the story of snorkeling with his boy he concluded, “that’s the problem for so many investors.”
“They are like those officials in the kayaks,” he continued. “They want so badly to see the dolphins, they are always paddling furiously to where the dolphins have already been… and by the time they get there, they have missed them entirely. They are gone.”
There were knowing nods all over the room.
“They are chasing after performance. They put their money in companies that have performed well in the past. But by the time the big numbers have been compiled and published for the whole world to see, the party’s over. It’s too late.”
More nods.
“The best strategy is to be well diversified in quality companies, and keep your long term objectives in mind. Be on the lookout for value. Position yourself for the long haul. And when you least expect it, the dancing dolphins will appear.”
I thought to myself, you know, it’s true for investing. It’s also true for other kinds of success. It’s true in relationships, too.
How many of us are chasing after a promotion? After a quantum leap in business growth? After ultimate professional and personal fulfillment? After complete and total happiness? After true love? And the harder we look, the harder we try, the more illusive it all seems.
It’s like paddling that kayak ‘til our arms are ready to fall off and our hands are blistered and sore… and we arrive at that point where they told us we’d find those dolphins, and the water is quiet and still… and there is no trace of those chattering, playful animals anywhere in sight. And we are left holding the paddle, wondering what in the world drove us to this empty space.
Perhaps the best things in life only happen while we simply occupy ourselves with the business at hand. While we revel in world we’ve been given. While we get busy today with the little stuff. The trivial stuff that’s gotta be done now.
And bingo.
Dolphins.
Well look at that. Wow.
* * * * * * *
It’s Monday morning. You are a leader.
You’ve got hopes and dreams. And expectations. You’ve set sail. You are going somewhere. People see it. That’s what they like about you.
And part of you wishes that you had arrived already. That the annoying interruptions, the relentless to-do list, the never-ending demands would just go away. And that your life would be just one never-ending dance with the dolphins in a far away blue lagoon.
Me too.
It’s happened before. The dolphins have appeared in your life… and you laughed and watched, wide-eyed and free, and wished it would never end. But as for Tim and his son somewhere out there in the Bahamas, the playful dolphins disappeared as quickly and as magically as they had arrived.
Let it be enough that you can remember the moment the dolphins came. Let it be enough that you have meaningful work to do. Let it be enough that you have a home. And someone to be with. And people to care for.
Get busy with that.
The dolphins?
They’ll be back.
© Copyright Kenneth E. Kemp 2001
Special Thanks to my good friend David Belcher, owner of Rhino Media Group and creator of WisdomGram
LeaderFOCUS is a service of Good Stewardship Associates
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