Wednesday, March 13, 2019

Things I love - and hate - about RVing

When I stopped working full-time in my 60s, one of the first things on my bucket list – clich├ęs about retirement notwithstanding – was to go out and purchase a motorhome. (Below is a picture of our rig: a gently used 31 foot Jayco Escapade.) Now, after more than two years and 20,000 miles of cris-crossing the country in it, I can share some of the pros and cons of having your home on your back.


First, let’s start with some of the things I love about RVing:

1. Wherever you go, there you are
Even though I’ve flown hundreds of thousands of air miles in my career, visiting places ranging from China to Curacao, my dirty little secret is that I hate traveling. Sleeping in hotel beds, eating in strange restaurants, and having no privacy for days or weeks on end has always been stressful for me. So first and foremost, an RV takes much of the “travel” out of travel.

To me, one of the greatest joys of RV travel is being somewhere far away and yet able to raid the refrigerator whenever I feel like it, set the temperature to whatever I want, and sleep every night in my own bed. Not to mention knowing that the nearest restroom is as close as my turn signal.

2. It’s the cheapest way to go
Travel by motorhome is, far and away, the cheapest way to travel. For years, when my wife and I would visit my family in Arizona, we’d often spend $4-6000 by the time you added in air fares, car rental, hotels at $200+ a night, and eating nearly every single meal out. Last year, by comparison, we spent three weeks going to Tucson by motorhome and the costs barely topped $2K.

Here’s how it breaks down. First of all, the cost of gas kills you. Motorhomes like mine get no more than 8 miles per gallon on a good day – after all, you are carting a residence around. But after that, everything else is dirt cheap. Food is the same as staying home, RV campgrounds are around $40/night and sometimes much less, and nearly everything you need comes with you. You can often spend a week somewhere in your RV for not much more than the cost of a single night at a major-city hotel.

3. It can be surprisingly convenient
Last summer I spent four days at a psychotherapy conference in Washington DC, where I presented a research paper and attended committee meetings. Instead of spending all that time in a stuffy and expensive DC hotel, I stayed at an RV park outside the Beltway and was “home” every night. So how did I get to the conference every day? A bus came right to the RV park every hour, 20 minutes later I was at a Metro station, and nine stops later I was at my conference – easy-peazy.

There are RV parks at major resorts like Disney, parks close to public transportation in major cities, and even upscale RV resorts that are a short Uber ride from anything you want. And as a huge baseball fan, I’ve made numerous trips to Philadelphia, where you can park your RV and tailgate right at the ballpark, and a clean and safe campsite is just over across the river.

That said, I’ll be the first to admit that RVing also has its drawbacks. Here are a few of the things I hate about RVing:

1. Repairs
Things go wrong with RVs. Often. If you were driving your entire home around constantly, things would break down for you too. I sometimes joke to my dealer’s service department – whom I’ve gotten to know quite well – that I’m slowly replacing the entire RV one piece at a time.

To be fair, I’ve yet to have a single problem with the vehicle itself (a Ford E-450 V10 Super Duty). But since we’ve owned this RV we’ve fixed the generator, the power converter, and the refrigerator. We’ve dealt with sticky electric steps, a leaking cab bunk, clogged faucets, a waterlogged counter top, and more. And upgraded the shocks, to the tune of $1000, so my wife doesn’t go flying every time we drive over a bump. But so far it’s still been like many good relationships: expensive but worth it.

2. Restrooms designed by idiots
For some reason I’ve never figured out, nearly every RV campground restroom has these tiny stalls with doors that only open *inward.* Look at the picture here. Eyeball the distances involved. Now tell me how you get *out* of these stalls without having to brush against *everything.* Blecch.


There are exceptions, thankfully. The KOA campground near Hilton Head, for example, actually has stalls with their own sinks and the BBC piped in. Very civilized. But also the exception and not the rule.

3. Wonky WiFi
Practically every campsite claims to have WiFi. With a strong emphasis on the word “claims.” Because almost universally, it doesn’t work. Whether all 200 people at the campsite are using it at the same time, or whatever else is going on, the result is still the same: it’s usually too pokey to even send an email.

Some campgrounds offer two levels of service: free WiFi that doesn’t work, and expensive paid WiFi that might. As for me? I usually just tether my cell phone and carry on.

4. You don’t fit everywhere
A full-size motorhome like mine takes up two car lengths. Driving it is not a big deal – it’s like driving a van (because technically you are driving a van), with slightly wider turns and more wind resistance. But parking it is often another matter entirely.

There are some places you simply can’t go in a motorhome. Many strip malls and gas stations, for starters. If there isn’t enough room to turn around a big vehicle, you risk being able to get in but not out. For example, ask me about the time I tried to go to a mall outside of DC, discovered its only parking was garages whose ceiling heights were too low for my rig, and to add insult to injury, the only way out was a too-tight turn that left me blocking heavy traffic with horns blaring. That was fun.

And then, sadly, there are a few entire cities that are not at all RV-friendly. Pittsburgh, where I used to live for many years, has NO place to park an RV downtown, save for a bus lot far from everything that costs $100 to park in (!). Some areas have under-height bridges or other restrictions: for example, you can't drive an RV through the Lincoln or Holland Tunnels in New York City. And as for most street parking or garages, fugheddaboutit. Eventually you learn to think like a truck driver and plan your route around things like interstates, truck stops, shopping malls and campsites.

Adding it all up

So in the end, is RVing worth it?

Think of it a little like owning a pet. You put up with bites, scratches, changing the litter pan, and medical problems, because being warm and furry covers a multitude of sins. It is precisely the same thing between me and our RV.

This is why I gladly hook up the sewer and the utilities every night, do dumpster duty, go outside in bad weather to fix things, or drive 400 miles a day to get us where we are going because I couldn’t possibly imagine being retired without an RV. And so far, I still love it.


Sunday, July 15, 2018

I found my niche! (Lots of them, in fact)

"How many different careers have you had, Rich?"

I get asked this question more often than you might think - because I am, in fact, a mutt who has worn many different hats in my life. People have known me over the years as a computer programmer, a corporate manager, a freelance writer, a book author, a public speaker, and a psychotherapist. And that doesn't count youthful indiscretions like being a pizza delivery man, golf caddy, short-order cook or radio announcer.

Which brings up something I've always noticed: we tend to look down our noses at people who don't follow one path in life. Children are asked, "What do you want to be when you grow up?," while adults are greeted with, "What do you do?" Most of us know better than to be racist, sexist or even ableist nowadays, but we are still thoughtlessly single-path-ist. We use terms like "dilletante" or the euphemistic "Rennaisance man" as a synonym for "lost and confused" - but never, in my experience, in a good light.

My diverse career actually makes more sense than people might think. Some paths were borne of neccessity - like when layoffs, technical obsolescence and burnout made my original 20-year software career impractical, and I started writing full time. Others were happy accidents, like when I wrote a book that unexpectedly became an international bestseller and I suddenly found myself speaking 40-50 times a year all over North America (a pace that continued until I retired last year).

Finally, some things made no particular career sense, except that I really wanted to do them. I secretly always wanted to be a psychotherapist all my life, but after decades of brushing it aside for more practical pursuits, a novel distance learning program in the 2000s put that within reach. After which I happily juggled writing, speaking and therapy for many years - often with people who knew me from one field scratching their heads about the others.

Which brings up a larger point. Why should any of us HAVE to have a single "brand"? What is wrong with wearing different hats as we go through life? If we can walk and chew gum at the same time, why can't we have more than one profession?

I actually think being a mutt is great. It always gave me multiple ways to make a living, any of which could be scaled up if needed. And it doesn't equate to "unsuccessful": personally I have never been fired or laid off, had to borrow money from people, or even been late paying a bill. I can truthfully say that I've done well at just about everything I've tried, and now I am happily retired (and still doing lots of different things). As far as I'm concerned, it's all good.

Far too many people feel trapped in someone else's idea of a good life. Others discover that their chosen career becomes obsolete or intolerable. And many suffer a horrible loss of self-esteem when what they do, for whatever reason, doesn't work out. But society is often far richer when people escape their career ruts: for example, I'm glad Walt Disney moved on from being a failed newspaper editor, and Andrea Bocelli gave up being a defense attorney to sing.

So my closing thought is to stop asking your children questions like "What do you want to do when you grow up?" Instead, ask them what they like. What they enjoy. What makes their heart sing. And as they get older, how they might get to do more of the things they love. And perhaps, with a little luck, lots of them!

(P.S. My favorite job of all? Hands down, being a stock clerk at a department store when I was eighteen - because the cute girl I met working there has been my partner ever since.)

Thursday, September 29, 2016

On Tooting Your Horn

A little while ago, I ran into an old friend in town, and among other things she noted that I tended to toot my own horn on Facebook – in other words, that I often post about my speaking gigs, my books, or the good times I am having.

It was meant well, and taken as such. And she is completely accurate. But it raises a deeper issue that rarely gets explored: the differences between tooters and non-tooters. So I would like to take you inside the mind of a lifelong tooter, to put it in its proper perspective.

You see, for many people, this issue takes on moral overtones. Non-tooters often grow up believing that it is shallow and pretentious to brag about yourself; as one recent meme put it, “May your life be half as good as it seems on Facebook.” At the other end of the spectrum, tooters are at risk of seeing non-tooters as dullards who celebrate nothing and share nothing.

Neither of these stereotypes is accurate. So here is my attempt at brokering a truce between two equally valid worldviews. First, here are some of the reasons why I tend to toot my horn:

1) To me, tooting isn’t egotistical – it is epidemiological. Since the dawn of history, men were often hunters and gatherers who took care of their families. And when they stopped being able to do so, they died. This is how hunting trophies and harvest celebrations came about: they celebrated the successful pursuit of food and survival. So for thousands of years, tooting has been a celebration of life, and of still being in the hunt. Same thing when I celebrate my goals and pleasures – it isn’t about winning or being better than others, but rather about taking pride in the happy pursuit of a good life.

2) For me personally, there is almost a spiritual dimension to celebrating yourself. During the toughest times of my life, non-tooters had nothing to offer me. And it was always other tooters – people who openly liked themselves, and encouraged others – who saw potential in me and gave me hope. So I wanted to be like them, not like those who had nothing to say.

3) We tend to be attracted to our own species as friends. I really like the company of other tooters. For example, I have always delighted in seeing other people’s books, cheering on their launch campaigns, watching their videos, and hearing their stories. It is life-affirming for me to be in the company of other people who take joy in their own pursuits, and see possibilities for themselves and others.

4) Tooters make good tutors. Yesterday at a speaking engagement in Pittsburgh, one woman told me how much she enjoyed my talk (always a good thing to say to a tooter), and then confided that someday she would like to be a public speaker herself. I gladly sat down with her at lunch and opened my playbook about getting started in the business. More broadly, I love seeing other people learn, grow, and succeed. If you want to learn to become a writer, speaker, musician, or whatever, your best bet is to find a good tooter.

5) Finally, we are all the product of our own family histories. I come from a large family of high achievers, including a very professionally successful father, and a funny and often brash mother with a very healthy ego – and as I often told her, much of my own success came directly from what I learned from her. For me, as with her, taping my mouth shut about my life would feel like a dull grey existence.

Non-tooters often mistakenly believe that tooting is a reaction to covering up some deeper emptiness in your life. Not in my case. If you were to crack my head open, you would find a pretty happy guy inside most of the time. And if I am sharing good things publicly, this is a very good sign that I am in my normal happy place. When things are tough for me, I am much more likely to withdraw then blather on.

Now, a word to you non-tooters: you’re OK too. You have perfectly good and valid reasons for being the way you are, based on who you are and what you have learned in your life. And there are healthy and unhealthy extremes to both your personalities and mine. Tooters can be friendly and engaging, or egotistical boors. Non-tooters can be kind and modest, or wet blankets. It goes without saying that we should always try to be our very best selves and make other people feel good.

But above all, we all have to be true to who we are. We all have our own unique personalities and gifts. And living someone else’s life is never a prescription for happiness. So if you are like me, toot away!

Saturday, July 30, 2016

The only political blog I will write all year – 2016 edition

In this most unusual of election years, we have a communications skills expert’s nightmare: one of the most divisive races in modern history, fueled by non-stop partisan talk radio, cable TV and social media.

I am pretty apolitical on the best of days, but this year in particular, the electoral process makes me feel the same way most women would probably feel if Bikini Babes of NASCAR was blaring on their TV 24/7. But people still do ask me to weigh in about politics, and while I wouldn't dream of telling you how to vote, I do have some thoughts about how to best approach this election. Here they are:

Use the outrage test. I have a simple rule for whether an issue should concern me: is the outrage bipartisan? If not, then it isn’t allowed to take up valuable space in my head. This simple rule automatically exempts me from Benghazi, Melenia Trump’s speech, Hilary’s emails, Trump steaks, and a whole host of other issues.

This is particularly true when (only) one side is going, “Oh, OH! Let’s investigate! Let's litigate! Let's prosecute!” When I hear people talk about jailing Hilary or blocking Trump from candidate security briefings, all I can do is roll my eyes and mutter to myself, “Holy 1998 impeachment, Batman.” Because these faux issues won’t give anyone a good job, improve our well-being or stop violence.

Real issues like the economy, health care, racial justice and the police, and terrorism raise strong opinions from both sides – and even if they disagree, it’s game on. But if one side is outraged and you are hearing crickets from the other side, move along.

Choose your sources. Do you form your political opinions – or worse, express them – through Facebook memes or partisan sources? Let me make a gentle suggestion. See what a more neutral source has to say first before you contribute to the political discourse. You might be surprised to learn that people actually do exaggerate things and distort facts – even in politics.

If you can’t do that, and reject the mainstream media the way many good zealots do, fine. At least do me this favor: check out the memes and articles that the other side is posting first. Then imagine that all of you were locked in a room, and couldn’t emerge until you reached consensus. What do you think the consensus might be? At least let that inform your posts and opinions.

Tune out the pundits. Political talk hosts on opposing sides are probably best friends off-camera. Why? Because they all engage in the same strategies: emotionally-charged language, fatuous arguments, one-sided facts, straw man arguments and ad hominin attacks.

Everyone criticizes commentators on the other side for doing it – but when I notice the same things with pundits on their side, people look at me like I have three heads. Yet they too are polarizing people and spreading half-truths. My gentle suggestion: don’t listen to jerks just because they are “our” jerk.

Listen to the other side. This is the most important advice one could give for this or any election – learn how the other side thinks. Listen to their candidates. Read their articles. Visit their social media pages. Because real problems are solved through dialogue and consensus. And that can only happen when both sides “get” each other first.

If you can’t frame the other person’s position as that of a totally reasonable person, you aren’t yet capable of advocating effectively for your side – you are limited to preaching to your own choir. Which, in my humble opinion, never changes anything.

This is especially true in this unusual election, where it seems like the more we vilify the opposition candidate, the more their poll numbers go up. I hope that when the dust settles on the 2016 campaign, its legacy is that we finally learn to listen to each other and solve problems together.

Wednesday, May 06, 2015

Becoming a book millionaire, revisited

A little over a year ago, I shared my thoughts about reaching the milestone of selling a million dollars worth of books in this blog post. More recently, I created a blog post for my good friend (and New York Times bestselling author) Carol Roth about what I feel is the larger issue: how to consistently get published by major royalty publishers, and write books that are regularly featured in bookstores.

Aside from the obvious advice (create outstanding content, and work your way up to the big leagues by writing a lot), it discusses what I truly feel is the hidden secret of every published nonfiction author: become a student of (1) how successful nonfiction books are structured and titled, and (2) the mechanics of good, tight queries and proposals. Here is a link to my post:


Enjoy, and best of success with your own writing!

Sunday, November 30, 2014

Sixty years on

Today I turn sixty years of age.

So how does it feel to be 60? Mostly thankful and thoughtful. I am happy, healthy, and enjoy my life. But any major life transition is a complex mosaic of emotions, and at the risk of TMI, here is my best effort to capture them:

1) I can’t believe that I am still married to, and madly in love with, the same woman I met when I was 18 years old - and that she is still as beautiful as the day I met her. Our relationship remains my greatest joy and probably always will be.

2) I do not feel the least bit old. My eyesight and my waistline beg to differ sometimes, but at least in the latter case I hope to do something about it this coming year. Still, I honestly feel that 60 is the new 30.

3) I will probably never stop working. Nor do I ever plan to sit, beer in hand, in front of a television for days (or even hours) on end. The thought of a permanent vacation sounds like anathema to me. But I do find myself using the “R” word (retirement) a lot more often now.

Whenever it happens, my idea of retirement will probably be crazier than other people’s. There are things I hope to always do as long as I am vertical, like my psychotherapy practice, my annual teaching gig at Cornell, or writing for my favorite clients. And I will still speak when it is interesting and fun. At times, I will still be extremely busy. But I will consciously start winding down things I do just to make a living.

4) I haven’t punched in at a job for many years now, and am reaching the happy conclusion that I hopefully never will. There are few things I am more proud of than having supported my household entirely through self-employment for much of the past two decades. God has been very kind to me in providing wonderful clients and great opportunities every year, and I am extremely thankful.

So finally, what about the whole question of, you know, getting older?

I probably felt more mortal – and worried more about it – when I was in my 20s and 30s than I do now. I enjoy life more now, one day at a time, than I did then. And I am not alone: studies show, for example, that 85 year olds are among the happiest people.

But I am more aware than ever of our own mortality. For example, my father and his only sibling – two of the most successful people I’ve ever known – did not survive the decade I am now entering. So I value time like I never have before.

Of course, I hope to fare better than they did. I often tell my wife our old parish priest’s joke that I have an “un-dying” love for her. But my departed family members have given me a gift: an urgency to not trade precious time for things that aren’t important. For example, I am sure all those articles telling us to keep working and delay Social Security are technically correct – but after watching too many people I love never get to retire at all, I am probably unwilling to trade more sunsets with Colleen for much of their advice.

So overall, what is it like turning 60? I hope it is a way station on a path, and many years from now I hope to be a bit like the late Hedda Bolger – a psychotherapist who, at age 102, was still seeing clients and teaching online training programs. In the meantime, I am very glad to reach this great age.

Wednesday, July 02, 2014

Online Marketing: How to Make a Pain in the Ass of Yourself

The world is full of online marketing experts. Some of them are brilliant and have taught me a lot (I’m looking at you, David Newman). But others teach and use tactics that annoy the heck out of me, and probably many others. Here are three examples of “worst practices” I still see a lot of:

Squeezing people on your squeeze page
If you are offering me a free copy of 10 Tips for Better Tweets or whatever – and aiming it at solopreneurs like me, not businesses – where did you get the brilliant idea of *requiring* my phone number on your signup page?

You obviously don’t know how busy I am. Or how much I love getting interrupted by cold calls from people trying to sell me something. My phone already rings too often from people who feel I have nothing better to do all day than switch phone companies or whatever. And clearly you don’t grasp that I’ll call you when I want more information. Except I probably won’t call you.

I do need to point out that it is common practice for businesses in the B-to-B market to gather phone numbers and call - that's how they roll. But trust me on this one: if your product or service is designed to help individuals succeed, we really, really, really don't want you calling us.

(By the way, guess what is on my squeeze pages? NOTHING. I never make people sign up for my content. I figure that if people like it, they’ll call me. After years of capturing low-quality leads, I have personally found that simply putting great stuff out there is actually more profitable for me.)

Too much of a good thing
I completely get giving you my email address in return for some kind of perk. And yes, this does give you the right to send me information. But not Every Single Freaking Day. Or even every few days. I don’t care how fantabulous your product is, it doesn’t mean you get to clog my in-box like an infestation of lice. This is the marketing equivalent of someone giving your kids a snare drum for the holidays.

Copping an attitude
Perhaps the worst failing is when people treat me like I am stupid and need to be “pushed.” Act now Rich! Don’t miss this Rich! Did you read this Rich? Last chance Rich! Honestly, many marketing emails sound like they are trying to call a dog or yell at a teenager, rather than connect with a friend.

It isn't rocket science

Ironically, marketing has always been a big part of my success as a writer and speaker. But I’ve never bought in to the idea that good marketing is about bugging people, over-promoting yourself, inundating them with information they don’t want, or breathlessly rushing them to action. To me, it all circles back to things my mother taught me: build a good reputation, help other people succeed, and don’t be a jerk. What do you think?