Keepin' It Real with Cam Marston
Weekly observations on travel, work, parenting, and life as it goes on around me. Airing Fridays on Alabama Public Radio.
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Talent Was Never The Issue
07/25/2025
Talent Was Never The Issue
This week on Keepin It Real Cam Marston has noticed a trend amongst his empty nester friends and what their hobbies become once the kids are gone. The predictability of it gives him comfort. ----- In my part of the world, the female empty nester is an interior designer or painter who has been caged by her responsibilities as a mother and once the kids are gone, they finally step into their lifelong artistic fulfillment. It’s a distinct pattern around here. The number of friends my wife and I have who start throwing paint on a canvas or buying furniture at market after the kids are gone is phenomenal. From what I can tell, they subscribe to Architectural Digest or Southern Living magazines and recreate what they see when they decorate their friend’s houses. Or they have an untapped and remarkable talent for tossing a menagerie of paint colors onto a broad canvas and selling it as a home accent piece at their kid’s school fundraiser or in a corner at their friend’s gallery. It’s not a painting of anything, it’s just colors. They’re going to be rich and famous from their innate ability to create color combinations differently than anyone ever before them, certainly different from anyone around here. Their friends, standing leaning on one hip and holding their stemless wine goblet, ooooh and ahhhh at these masterpieces and offer compliments more effusive than anything Michaelangelo ever got. These same friends unwittingly compare their friends interior design projects with what they just saw in Architectural Digest or Southern Living while they were waiting at the orthodontist with their children. Some of these empty nested women become jewelers. Some become elite, specialized travel agents. Eventually they all sadly back away from their remarkable, God-given talent, find pickleball and only take on special projects for insistent friends. The cost to establish themselves full time in the business was simply too high to continue. Talent was never the issue. I suspect something similar can be said for the men around here. Once the kids are gone they seem to grow. Eating takes priority when the kids have left the house. They become very interested in the preparing and then doting on brisket or boston butt as it slowly gets to the golden zone, all having powerful theories about getting the meat through what they call “the stall” when the temperature stops rising. Lots of time spent talking in a group standing next to an elaborate cooking device, beer in a koozie held waist high by the top of the can - each complaining that they have more koozies than they know what to do with - and discussing the stall and other brisket or Boston butt mysteries. Then they touch on college football. Then golf. Then hunting or fishing. And then they eat. I suppose I should welcome this predictability in my world. If any one of these empty nesters suddenly declared they were meant to be a puppeteer or a mime or a treasure hunter I’d worry about them. So long as they’re meant to be a painter, an interior designer, or talk a lot about meat, I know my world is in order. All is right and well and good. Like it or not, I’m home amongst my people. I’m Cam Marston and I’m just trying to Keep it Real.
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Haters
07/18/2025
Haters
On this week's Keepin It Real, Cam Marston got some blowback from a social media post this week. He asks us, "How do you deal with haters?" ----- One year ago, I set a goal to paddle board across Mobile Bay. I completed that goal in May. The second part of the goal was to write about the challenge and be paid to have it printed. That was completed last week when the story was carried in Mobile Bay Magazine. I will get a small payment in a week or so. A year’s planning, researching, note-taking, exercising, preparing and lots of paddling later, the goal was entirely met. Pretty cool. Yesterday, Mobile Bay magazine made posts about my paddle with links taking readers to the story and I received a good bit of social media attention as a result. The vast majority of the social media comments were very positive and congratulatory. Today’s commentary is about the ones that weren’t. No sooner had the magazine posted the story than a handful of people jumped in to denigrate my effort. Some said that my paddle across the Bay wasn’t that hard and that they could do it. Essentially, my effort wasn’t worthy of the attention I was receiving. Others said they know people who swim across the bay and that my paddle, again, wasn’t much of an accomplishment. And let me say again, the vast majority of comments were very positive, but what makes people want to attack other’s accomplishments? What triggers haters? There’s a type of person that simply can’t let others be acknowledged without debasing their achievements. Unfortunately, they’re everywhere. They lurk in shadows waiting to leap out and knock down someone’s efforts. Is it possible to scroll through social media and NOT attack other’s success? Certainly. But some can’t. Or won’t. What is it about these people? Remarkably, I sat this morning after reading some of these comments and began questioning if my paddle board crossing was truly that hard? Maybe they were right? Did I overblow the effort seeking some sort of vainglory? It didn’t take long for me to answer No. All aspects of this goal were a difficult challenge and when I finished crossing the Bay the pain and exhaustion I felt were very real. A superhero athlete could have done it easily. Me? It was a true struggle. Discouragement is a powerful drug. It’s meant to stoke the ego of the pusher. And the ego, unchecked, always compares, elevates and separates. It says I’ve judged you, I’m different and I’m better. It’s the motive of the hater. I knew none of the people who tried to devalue my effort. I think none of them knew me. Anonymity is key to haters. If there is a message here, it’s one you and I have already heard before - it’s to keep achieving. Keep making things happen. Set goals, do bold and audacious things. Let the haters try to knock you down but don’t flinch. Don’t even turn your head. Accept helpful criticism but ignore the rest. Because when they’re judging, evaluating and separating they’re dying inside due to their personal weakness. We’ll never be rid of them, but we can devalue them. And maybe, in time, like gnats and mosquitos, they’ll go away. I’m Cam Marston and I’m just trying to keep it real.
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The Power of Cheese
07/11/2025
The Power of Cheese
On this week's Keepin It Real, Cam and a client discuss employee retention issues and he shares and idea that may get you through any business turmoil that may lie ahead. ----- On a call with an upcoming client this week I was discussing one of their challenges. They’re having a hard time recruiting and retaining young talent. “But here’s something we did recently,” my client said, “that may have some sort of impact. We added a snack pantry to the office kitchen and it’s been a huge hit.” "Tell me more," I said. “Well,” she said. “Our young employees know they should have health insurance, and they do, and they know they should have a 401k, which they do. But neither of those items are very important to young people who seldom need those things right now. They’re like a boxes that needs to be checked – and they are - but they aren’t very fun. So, we decided to add something that our young employees could use right now. We added a snack panty and included a new refrigerator.” She said, “I fill the pantry each week with new and different snacks. Some healthy and some not healthy. They love it and have told me so.” Other than people happily snacking in the kitchen, I asked, has there been any other benefit? I mean a snack pantry and a new refrigerator is a high price to pay just to get happy snackers. “We invested in a fancy coffee maker,” she said. “It grinds the beans for each cup and it can make hot chocolate. It takes a moment or two to make each cup. In the kitchen we added an island. And while people are waiting for their coffee, they stand around the island and talk.” I reminded her that during the pandemic, a big complaint from corporate types was that creativity in the workplace was taking a hit due to a lack of spontaneous interactions. There are no spontaneous interactions over Zoom or on a Teams call. Bumping into someone and catching up often stimulates new ideas and there are buckets of business school case studies about this. The Pixar movie Toy Story, in fact, was supposed to be as good as it was due to Pixar people and Apple people chatting in common areas when they were making the movie and shared office space. They’d bump into each other and talk about the plot. “That’s happening,” she said. “Around the island, they catch up with each other and discuss their work and projects. It’s become an unexpected benefit of the snack kitchen. We’d be foolish to shoo them away or hurry them back to their desks.” Back in the day the tech companies offered pinball machines and foosball tables in break rooms? Remember this? I thought that was crazy. Could it be, though, that this iPhone in my hand was conceived by two workers standing next to each other at a foosball table discussing an idea that eventually led to this phone? And could it be that the next major business breakthrough comes from a pack of string cheese you put in the office fridge and then sent a Teams message that read “Free string cheese in the fridge. Please help yourself.” Worried about tariffs? Worried about a recession? Consider the potential of string cheese. It’s an idea so powerful you’d think it originated in Washington DC. I’m Cam Marston and I’m just trying to Keep It Real.
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July Fourth, Twenty Twenty Five
07/04/2025
July Fourth, Twenty Twenty Five
On today's Keepin It Real, Cam wishes us a happy Independence Day and reminds us that on July 4th, 1776, nearly thirty percent of the population didn't want it. ----- Happy Fourth of July. Our nation’s independence. It’s a big deal. I don’t think we feel it today like generations did in the past. The significance of it is likely lost on many of us. Those that fought in wars have a different type of appreciation for the Fourth of July but there are so many fewer of them today than there were. In 1980, about twenty percent of our population had served in the military. Today that number is closer to six percent. And less than three percent of our adult population has ever seen combat, this all from ChatGPT, by the way. So the veterans that have a special connection to July Fourth are such a small, small group. To most of us, today is a day where we sleep in a bit, get outside a bit, and hope to end the night with all ten fingers intact after shooting fireworks. We’ll certainly see those stories on social media tomorrow– please don’t let it be you. And in our remarkably divided country, both sides will make passionate speeches about liberty and freedom. Both sides will make claims that they’re defending the country evil, which is the other party. Both sides will get cheers for their stances and jeer at the other party for theirs. Both sides convinced the other side is the root of nearly every problem from dud firecrackers to eczema to their bike’s flat tire. “What do I do about this?”, I asked a friend last week. “What is my responsibility to this turmoil? To this hate?” She lives and works in New York City and had her non-profit’s funding eliminated. Her answer was simple. Go talk to people, she said. Simply try to be a nice person. Try to understand. Maybe we will see the humanity in the other person and, we hope, they’ll see it in us. Another I spoke to this week said he believes in pendulum swings and right now the pendulum has swung far in one direction. And just like a pendulum, the momentum can only last so long before it stops and reverses course. We celebrate July 4th for the bold decisions that led to the world we live in today. But in 1776 as much as thirty percent of the population opposed independence. And as much as forty percent didn’t care one way or the other. Again, all of this courtesy of my new best friend ChatGPT. So, in 1776, a minority of our nation, about forty five percent, made cataclysmic decisions that we live with today. There must have been very heated discussions. Massive assumptions about those they disagreed with. However, to be able to discuss the direction our country is going in, to have a role in it, however small, I think we can agree, is a privilege. So today, for me, I’m going to focus on my good fortune to live in a place where I have some small input into our nation’s direction. Though I feel like honesty, civility, and character are out of fashion right now, I believe the pendulum will eventually swing back. And, perhaps, I can speed up it’s return by having some sincere conversations with people I disagree with. Consider joining me, please. Let’s do this together. I’m Cam Marston and I’m just tyring to Keep it Real.
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How Do We Get Off This Wheel?
06/27/2025
How Do We Get Off This Wheel?
A beach conversation earlier this week caught Cam's attention. And he asks if we've ever had so many known solutions to a common problem and ignored them? ----- At a family event earlier this week I asked eight members of my extended family who liked their work. Six people did not their work. Some hated their jobs. Some were just ready for something new. And some were actively looking for new jobs but only something they’d enjoy and were struggling to find anything that they thought they’d enjoy. One had weeks to go before retiring at age sixty. Rather than go to sixty-five, he decided to get out early. His young-ish retirement added risk to whether his savings would last but he was willing to accept that risk - he couldn’t take his work anymore. The youngest participant in the conversation was thirty, so it wasn’t workplace veterans vs workplace newbies. It was across the ages. I wondered: Is this typical? Does seventy five percent of the workforce dislike their work? And some so much that they will accept more risk in their retirement to bug out early? These questions led me back to some notes I took while listening to a podcast a while ago. Ezra Klein interviewed the author, whose name I didn’t write down, and the author said some fascinating things: First – Our society continues to create conditions that are at odds with human flourishing. And, per this guy, we know this! Yet we continue to do it. So, I thought, are jobs that are being offered and created today at odds with flourishing? What would a job that facilitated human flourishing look like? Is it even possible? Do I know anyone that has one? Second – Few people know what they want. Only that they don’t want “this”, whatever this is. The don’t want the work they have, only that there must be something better. But what? Most people have no idea. Third – We have a good idea of what a good life should look like and be BUT we seldom pursue it. And, he said, we train our kids to not pursue it. Third – Our desires today DON’T lead to flourishing. They lead to loneliness. Ask yourself - what are your desires? And be honest – will getting them help you flourish or make you lonely? Or lonelier? Finally, the author said there are three things that lead to flourishing: Education, Religion and Art. Not spirituality. Religion. And there are less of all these things today. Less practice of them. Less study of them. Less pursuit of them. Less pushing our kids toward them. And yet, per the author, they are, and always have been, the keys to happiness. What does it mean that we know the solutions to our unhappiness problems and ignore them. What does it mean that those in influencer positions in our workplace could create elements of jobs that would make others be happier? But we instead follow – and participate in and help create and push our kids into - a culture that ignores the answers? Has a society ever had known solutions to known problems and simply ignored them? I’m wresting with this. It tough. How do we get off this wheel? I’m Cam Marston and I’m just trying to keep it real.
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Alabama Writers Showcase
06/20/2025
Alabama Writers Showcase
On this week's Keepin It Real, Cam Marston seems to think writers are a good bit like Labrador retrievers - they can't not chase the stick. And writer can't not tell a story. ----- I stepped into the Mobile Literary Festival back in April not knowing what to expect. What I found surprised me and, ultimately, inspired me. Here’s what happened. But first - I used to own labrador retrievers. I learned they could never not chase the stick. Or the socks. Or the pinecone. Whenever I tossed something, they had to go after it. They couldn’t control themselves. It was who they were. It was in their bones. What I found at the Mobile Literary Festival was kind of the same – these people could not NOT tell a story. They had to write the stories that they witnessed or that were forming in their heads. They had to write. Few of the people made any real money from their writing. Maybe enough for a meal once a month or a load of groceries. Most of them did it for the joy of the hobby and the joy of commiserating with their fellow writers about the challenges of writing and telling their stories. I loved these people. I got the same feeling sitting with these writers as I do when I stand at the finish line of a long road race and watch people who have no God-given running talent push themselves over the finish line. They do it out of desire, deep perseverance, and guts. They just want to do it. And I loved ‘em. They inspired me. To celebrate these writers, I pitched an idea to Alabama Public Radio. “Let’s create a space,” I said, “where Alabama based writers can have their voices heard. And I want to feature the ones that aren’t famous. The ones who, like a labrador retriever, can’t not tell their stories.” They agreed to give it a try. So on Wednesday, July 9th at 7:30pm, we’re launching this thing. It will be a thirty-minute segment of one writer reading his or her work. Maybe it’s original for the broadcast, maybe it’s a chapter of a book they’ve written or are working on. Who knows. It’ll be writers reading their own stuff. John Nielsen. Remember his name. He’ll be one of the first ones. His story is called Angels of Fire in the Kudzu Realm. It’s awesome. Jodie Cain Smith will read from her newest book. She uses her theater training to really really read her story well. Rob Herndon has been working on a book for years and will read Chapter Two. You’re going to love his characters. And Lynn Oldshue has been telling people’s stories for years. She met a bunch of folks who were roaming around the docks getting a peek at the US United States which is tied up here in Mobile. She tells their stories. And the writers inspired me so much that I give fiction a shot for the first time since my creative writing class back in college. I loved it but it was harder than I remember. But I loved it. Put it on your calendar – July 9th at 7:30pm. We’re calling it the Alabama Writer’s Wednesday Night Showcase. It’s new. It’s different. And I don’t think there’s anything like it anywhere out there. This will be fun. I’m Cam Marston and I’m just trying to Keep it Real.
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Dancing Lady Orchid
06/13/2025
Dancing Lady Orchid
On this week's Keepin It Real, is Cam talking to his plants? Talking to himself. Both? And what's the message? ----- I use this commentary quite a bit as therapy. If I’m trying to work something out, I’ve learned that writing about it then speaking it helps in some way or another. One of the most recent themes that regular listeners may recognize is this transition into whatever the next chapter of my life will be. Every morning, the mirror reflects the changes taking place on the outside and I wonder when the change will impact the inner parts of me. My mother used to get up in the mornings, get her coffee, and in her robe go out onto her back patio and check on her plants. I remember her bending over them and touching some of them and then talking to them a bit. Maybe she’d clip a flower whose bloom had faded and offer some encouragement to the plant to send her another flower. I thought it was ridiculous up until a few weeks ago when I realized I was now doing it, too. A coffee, a step onto the patio, a visit to my orchids that, people tell me, should be inside but sure appear happier outside. My one-year-old potted lemon tree that is putting on so much growth but, as yet, no lemons. I give it a short motivational speech – you can do it lemon tree. I see your potential. You have what it takes. You’re a good-looking tree and I can tell your lemons will be great. Focus. Stay the course. I’ll take care of you. Then on to the staghorn fern that hangs at the corner of the patio that’s doing so well. I gently touch the fronds and compliment the fern on such strong and green shoots. My last visit every morning is to my oncidium orchid, better known as a dancing lady orchid. That orchid and I have been together a long time. It grows well. It appears happy. I changed its soil earlier in the spring and put it back in the same pot and gave it a good bit of orchid food. It quickly put on big new leaves and it continues to show, from all I can see on the outside, that it’s happy. But it hasn’t bloomed in a long while. I check every day for a tiny bloom spike to show me that it’s truly happy and wants to express its joy, but nothing. And I say to it, “You have everything I know how to give you for you to thrive. But it’s like you’re waiting for something more, some big out side force to identify that there’s something inside of you that you need to take that next big leap forward to express your joy. You’re waiting for something to excite you and tease you into blooming again, for you to give the world what you know is in there, aching to come out and share. But you’re not sure what’s in there and how to get it out. When you were younger and smaller, getting you to bloom wasn’t hard. Today, though, I can see that inside you, something missing.” And I take my coffee back inside, and sit quietly for a while, realizing what I’ve just said. I’m Cam Marston and I’m just trying to Keep It Real.
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The Crossing
06/06/2025
The Crossing
Saturday afternoon, Cam was on the eastern shore of Mobile Bay. On this week's Keepin' It Real, he tells us how he got there. ----- I was reminded about fear on Saturday. And, strangely, it was exactly what I had hoped for. Last July, I decided it was time to test myself. I had been comfortable for too long. It was time to be afraid again. Not the fear that comes danger and helplessness or the fear of someone saying Boo, but the fear that comes from gathering the wits and the strength to get yourself out of a tough situation. In my experience, that’s the fear the makes you feel alive. So I decided to attempt paddling on a stand up paddleboard the full way across Mobile Bay. Just me, all by myself, on the open water. I have a sort of phobia about being in the open water. It’s not a crippling phobia but it’s there. At night in bed when I thought about the paddling alone across the bay, that fear of being alone, in the middle of the water on my board kept me from getting to sleep. I’d have to face this fear head on to meet my goal. I calculated that the crossing should take me about four hours. The bay is just shy of eleven miles wide where I wanted to cross. I set about training with the goal of being able to paddle a solid three hours, hoping that adrenaline during the crossing would give me the additional hour I needed to complete it. What started last July came to fruition this past Saturday. The weather was good but not great. When I pushed away from the shore just north of the mouth of Dog River, the wind was blowing out of the north about 11 mph. To head east toward my target, I had to paddle hard northeast and get blown south. Two hours after starting I was in the middle of the bay struggling to keep my mind from ambushing me. I was in the open water, there was no one anywhere near me, and if I needed help I’d have to call on my cell phone for someone to launch their boat and come find me. Fear was percolating. I was no longer facing it, I was in it. My estimate of four hours was badly off, perhaps due to not factoring the cross wind into my training. My arms ached, my legs were trembling with fatigue, and my right lat was seizing into cramps. The eastern shore of Mobile Bay didn’t seem to be getting any closer. I was focusing on keeping my thoughts from getting out of control and finding energy for another stroke. Then another. Then another. Five hours and twenty minutes after launching I touched the eastern shore of Mobile Bay. I was exhausted and could only sit for twenty minutes before attempting to stand. I made it, though. I did it. Every so often it’s important to remind yourself that you can do hard things. That you can face fear and get through it. And to know you have completed something that you will never ever, ever, try to do again. I’m Cam Marston and I’m just trying to keep it real.
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Rounding Up
05/30/2025
Rounding Up
On this week's Keepin It Real, Cam Marston stands at the register at a coffee shop and what comes out of his mouth is a complete surprise to him. ----- Last week I bought a coffee and a T-Shirt at a coffee shop. And at that awkward moment when the person at the register spins the pad around for me to sign and enter a tip amount, I asked the guy “How much should I tip you for this?” I’ve never asked that question before. The moment I thought about asking it was after I had said it. Tipping has gotten out of hand. A few weeks back at a hotel in Colorado, every transaction at the hotel automatically included a 25% tip and then space on the bill to add more. At the hotel coffee shop, I’d buy a coffee, they’d hand me an empty cup and point me to the coffee pots across the way, and then ask for a tip. Then ask me to “round up” for some sort of something, adding more money to the transaction. You and I are paying a lot more for what we used to get and then doing the work ourselves. More and more people want you and me to add money to our transactions for doing their job. I know I sound old and curmudgeonly but, dang it, it’s getting out of hand. That’s why this transaction at the coffee shop stood out. “How much should I tip you for this?” I asked. The guy said, “Nothing. I’ve done my job. I poured you a coffee and rung you up in the register. You don’t even want a bag for your T Shirt. There is no tip necessary.” I wept. I tell people that if I order food or drink standing up I don’t tip. You shouldn’t tip for service if you’re standing. That’s what I say. That’s my rule. However, follow me around you’d see that I seldom obey my own rule. That awkward moment when the person at the register is waiting for you to add your tip so they can complete the transaction. They’re watching and I give in nearly every time. I’m weak. Similarly, my wife and I recently changed homeowners insurance. I then got an email to download their contractor’s app and a page of instructions about how to use their app to take photos and videos of my house so they can confirm the insurance quote. In addition to downloading the app, it would require complex passwords, two-step authentications, and, likely headaches and time on the phone with their service team. Though branding it as a simple tool that wouldn’t take much time, they were asking me to do their job. I simply replied to the email that I’m not going to do it. That’s their job, that’s what I’m paying them for. I could sense the eye-rolls on the other side and they said they’d send out a representative to collect the information. A small win. If you agree with me, if you’re frustrated about paying more and more for what you’re getting and doing their job along the way, let me hear from you. Send me a donation and I’ll continue to beat this drum on our behalf. And don’t forget to round up. I’m Cam Marston and I’m just trying to Keep it Real.
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Wisdom Is More Important Than Smarts
05/16/2025
Wisdom Is More Important Than Smarts
This week Cam offers some insight to new college graduates on some basic workplace skills that will make them effective in their workplace. He’s advised his clients for over twenty years on these things, maybe he should have something worthwhile to say. ----- My daughter graduated from college in May. After 20+ years advising companies and 7+ years interviewing workplace leaders on my What’s Working with Cam Marston radio show and podcast, I realized I should have some useful advice for her—and others—stepping into the next chapter. This is lesson number one called Wisdom is more important than Smarts. You can follow the upcoming lesson on my Linkedin page. Last week, after giving a speech in Atlanta, a young man approached me with a familiar question: “How do I deal with my Gen Z employee who’s been here a year and now wants a leadership role—or else he’s leaving?” I’ve heard this one for about ten years. First, it was Millennials asking this of Gen X leaders. Now, it’s Gen Z asking it of Millennials. So, what’s changed? We raised our kids in a culture of constant praise and reward. We applauded nearly everything. They didn’t ask for it—we gave it to them, believing it was the right thing to do. But it created expectations: follow the rules, don’t mess up, and a reward will come. And while that may work in classrooms and sports, the workplace plays by different rules. Competence may get you in the game, but leadership requires wisdom. Wisdom isn’t knowing how to do the job. It’s knowing when, where, why, and with whom. It’s built over time—by watching people, seeing how decisions ripple through teams, and understanding the bigger picture. Can wisdom be accelerated? Maybe—but only through pain and loss. A job falling apart. A serious illness. Hard-earned experience. And nobody wants that path. Wisdom teaches restraint: What not to say What not to email What not to escalate What attention not to attract Wisdom also teaches self-awareness: What do I do well? What energizes me? Where am I weak? What kind of feedback helps me improve? Even the smartest new hire with the highest GPA won’t have those answers yet. Because wisdom requires time. There is no shortcut. No cheat code. In fact, the moment someone says, “I’ve been here a year; I’m ready to lead,” they reveal the very lack of wisdom that disqualifies them. So, for my daughter—and others in her shoes—here’s what I’d say: 1. Focus on what you’re learning. Beyond task lists, study people and power dynamics. What makes leaders effective and likable? Who persuades without authority—and how? Who’s trusted? Who’s not? Why? What subtle behaviors win or lose influence? 2. Build relationships. Meet people inside and outside your org. Listen deeply. Ask “why” a lot. And speak less—questions build more respect than fast answers. And finally: stop counting the days. Keep your head up. Watch closely. Learn quickly. Adjust often. Wisdom sneaks in when you least expect it—and that’s what turns a worker into a leader. I’m Cam Marston an I’m just trying to keep it real.
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Blaine Got The Call
05/09/2025
Blaine Got The Call
On this week's Keepin It Real, lots of people celebrated last week. Cam was one of them. It was a case of determination unwavering belief that was finally rewarded. ----- So, after six years, Blaine finally got the call. I remember during the pandemic my wife and I rode our children’s bikes down the center of the street late one evening to our friend’s house for a cocktail. It was strange to have no traffic at that hour. At their house we sat outside and chatted for a while. Blaine was home and he and his sister stood in the back yard playing an improvised game hitting ping pong balls with a dowel across the yard. They’d toss it and smack it. I marveled at how hard it must be to hit such a tiny ball with a tinier bat but they both did, repeatedly. Having fun with each other while they were sent home from school, waiting for the pandemic to ease so they could return to their worlds. I hoped they wouldn’t ask me to take a swing. I would never have made contact. Blaine was a solid player in high school. Then an even better player in college. Then he stood out in single a, then double a, and now in triple a. At each level, he figured out how to succeed, winning awards along the way. And whenever he was at home visiting his parents and friends, he was a nice guy. We like him. Everyone does. That was clear at his wedding. He has a deep support system. And Blaine finally got the call. Along the way, Blaine had developed an army of supporters. Coaches, teachers, parents, pastors, friends, neighbors, church congregations. We’d each invested a small piece of our hearts along the way, and each of us harbored a silent hope that that this young man’s determination would pay off. He never wavered. We saw something enviable in him. It wasn’t only his remarkable baseball talent. It was his belief in himself. Thursday, a cancelled flight stranded my wife and me in Colorado. We tried to make the best of it. Today is a great day, my wife said, because the experts say that just saying that can change your attitude. So, we sat with a drink, determined that it was a great day. I heard her gasp as she looked into her phone. Blaine’s mom and dad had checked out of their beach hotel in Florida after just a few hours and were driving home to catch a flight. Blaine was playing that night in Arlington and then on Tuesday in Boston. They would be there. No questions, because Blaine finally got the call. My wife and Blaine’s mom spoke. Her eyes got wet. Blaine’s mom and dad were busting it down I-10, vacation abandoned. After hundreds and hundreds of games and countless more practices and dues paying, Blaine finally got the call. He had never wavered. He was headed to the majors. My wife and I toasted Blaine and his family, now both of our eyes wet, on this great day. Because Blaine finally got the call. And in a way, we all did. Good luck, Blaine. Win or lose, we got your back. All of us. Count on it. I’m Cam Marston and I’m just trying to keep it real.
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Practitioner
04/25/2025
Practitioner
On this week's Keepin It Real, Cam wonders if we have what it takes any more. If the thumbs up button is as far as we'll go or as much as we'll do. ----- David Brooks wrote a column in the New York Times last week calling for a, quote “comprehensive national civic uprising.” There are well over four thousand comments with most being something along the lines of “Yes. It’s about time. Someone should do something.” Brooks’ says the Trump administration has gone too far, that we are indeed in a constitutional crisis, and it’s time to act. But, I wonder, do we have what it takes to act? Or have we gotten used to saying “yeah, that’s a problem but it’s someone else’s problem, not mine” and maybe hit the thumbs up button. I’m going to change the subject. I’ve had some tense conversations with my Christian friends when I tell them that it’s much easier to worship than to be a practitioner of their faith. Worshipping Jesus is easy. We go to church. We pray before meals. We ask for blessings in his name. Maybe wear a crucifix. That’s worshipping. It’s public. Visible. And, frankly, easy compared to what he actually asked us to do. “Don’t bother with worshiping me,” he essentially said. “Follow me.” Do what I do. Behave the way I behave. Luke, Chapter Six, “Why do you call me Lord, Lord and not do what I tell you?” There many similar versus throughout the New Testament. But do any of us have what it takes to do what he told us? Few. Very few. Because that’s hard and, today, puts us at odds with what’s happening in our nation. “I’m good with the Lord. I went to Church on Easter.” Well how about that guy who was sent mistakenly to prison in El Salvador? We say, “Yea. That’s awful. He shouldn’t have been caught up in whatever he was caught up with. I’ll pray for him.” And that’s it. But if we were truly practitioners, not simply worshippers, what would we do to help he imprisoned, he poor, the neglected? We’d do something active with our feet, not simply bring our hands together and mention the poor guy over grace before dinner. Does this nation today, supposedly packed with Christians, have what it takes to act Christ-like anymore? Or are we all so fat and content that we let abuses fly and we’ll simply click the thumbs-up and offer our BS thoughts and prayers? I’m disgusted by what’s happening out there. I’m disgusted by the way so many of the Universities and law firms, supposedly bastions established to spread open thinking and to uphold democracy, are rolling over like puppies on the teat. There are protesters, but I’m disgusted by how many of us – me included – are watching and not practicing our faith. We were once a proud nation who pitied the banana republics run by bullies with no character and integrity. We would act to protect the weak, the poor, the vulnerable. Whether you agreed with or not, we knew this country would act. Now, we don’t even act on it inside our own borders. We are a nation supposedly full of Christians who, despite what our Christ asked of us, feel contented to only worship and not practice our faith. Prove me wrong. Please! I’m Cam Marston and I’m just trying to Keep It Real.
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Prom
04/18/2025
Prom
On this week's Keepin' It Real, Cam tells us that based on a series of recent events, he has two people he'd like offer up as potentially superb spies. ----- My twins are high school juniors, and prom was last Saturday night. The event went something like this: For my son: He brought his Joseph Banks suit downstairs about noon. It looked like it had been in a pile on the floor since he last wore it in March. There was a button-down shirt with it. My wife took the clothes and began steaming the wrinkles out. She asked “What flowers did you get your date.” A blank look. “Go to Publix and get some flowers. We’ll make something.” He returned with one hydrangea. My wife quietly returned to Publix and came home with an assortment of flowers and began making a bouquet. My son borrowed my dress shoes. For my daughter: She called her older sister earlier in the week and asked if she could return from college and help her with her hair for prom. Saturday, early afternoon, for about an hour, the two sat in front of a mirror and pre-prepped her hair. My prom-bound daughter left the house, hair in giant rollers, for the next stop in her pre-prom prep tour at someone’s house. There she would follow her sister’s instructions on getting the hair to the next step. Her dress was hermetically sealed in a bag to be opened only when put on. Walking to her car she carried an assortment of bags including make-up, clothes, hair dryers, and miscellaneous things I couldn’t ID. And a Stanley cup in her hand, of course. My son and his buddies stood together for pictures in a yard where they collected before prom. Parents quickly snapped photos before the boys wandered off. They looked disinterested and annoyed by the photos. My daughter and her friends, now fully primped, posed in front of a fountain downtown, while one of their friend’s mothers, a photographer, posed the girls individually, then in pairs, then as a group. Per the photos, the girls appeared happy to comply. The next day, parents were sent a link to a website where we could review and download the photos we liked. At prom the boys sat on the stage, from what we heard, looking over the sight and largely talking amongst themselves. The girls stood in front of the DJ and danced. There may have been some co-mingled dancing toward the 10pm hour, but those details remain shrouded. The DJ, they said, was good. From there, my son went to a friend’s house for a late meal cooked by parents, and they slept on sofas and mattresses in a den. He arrived home about noon the next day. My daughter was treated to a night in a hotel for a friend’s birthday where she shared a room with three friends. They gabbed until late, discussing the particulars of the evening. She arrived home about the same time as my son. Both looked tired. Dinner Sunday night, my wife and I asked, “How was prom?” “Good,” they both replied. “Tell us about it. What happened?” “Nothin’.” “Nothing? Really?” “Nope. Nothin’. Just prom.” After all that, we get “Nothin. Just prom.” Tight lipped, no details, close to the vest, tell us nothing. They should work for the CIA. Maybe they do. I’m Cam Marston and I’m just trying to keep it real.
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To AI or Not AI. That Is The Question.
04/11/2025
To AI or Not AI. That Is The Question.
On today's Keepin' it Real, Cam reports on a writer's conference he attended last weekend where a good part of the conversation was about using AI. All the writers, Cam reports, choose to not use it, preferring to remain "pure." ----- I attended a writers' conference last Saturday. Writers are a curious breed, convinced their unique perspective on describing something as mundane as a sunset is groundbreaking and essential. I love them. But they’re weird. This year, though, a frequent topic was artificial intelligence – how do writers use it, if at all. Speaker after speaker claimed they don’t use the stuff, choosing instead to remain “pure.” Huh, I thought. I wonder if mathematicians once dismissed calculators because they weren’t pure. Or cooks refused kitchen blenders because electrified blending wasn’t pure. Or the ancient Chinese dismissed matches because fire made from flint and steel was somehow more pure. "AI just doesn't have a soul," the authors seemed to be saying "It can't experience love, loss, or regret." True enough, but then again, neither does my toaster, and it still reliably performs its job every morning without any existential angst. Plus, it doesn't complain when I burn the toast. Truth be told, I wanted to agree with the speakers wholeheartedly. Part of me wanted to stand triumphantly on my chair, fist raised high, shouting, "Yes! AI can’t possibly write the way we can! Its unpure." But as I sat listening, I couldn’t help remembering countless times when I've stared helplessly at a blinking cursor on an empty screen, desperately begging for inspiration to appear. More often than not, what I ended up writing was about was mindless junk that I needed to fill a page and make a deadline. Maybe a dash of AI could have given my writer's block exactly the jump-start it needed. Yet could an AI authentically capture the awkward silence after a joke falls embarrassingly flat—something I've personally experienced far too often—or perfectly describe the unique blend of ego and insecurity that simmered quietly throughout the conference room? Could it mimic the quiet desperation of writers jockeying for the attention and the validation of their peers? The honest truth is, I don't know. And frankly, I'm not sure these writers at the conference really knew either. Perhaps they're right, and artificial intelligence will always lack that elusive "human touch." But who can say for sure? Maybe someday, an AI will pen a poem so profoundly moving that we'll all toss our beloved notebooks aside and question every choice we've ever made. STOP. FULL STOP. Everything you’ve just heard was written this morning by ChatGPT using the following prompt: Write a 450-word commentary based on my Keepin' it Real commentaries for Alabama Public Radio, written in my voice. In it, discuss a writer's conference I attended last week and how many writers felt that AI could never replace the sound of the true creative's voice. Make it humorous and poke a bit of fun at the writers who said this. And folks, I can promise you this is the first time I’ve used AI in any of my 300+ commentaries. And I pledge to you going forward, I intend to Keep It Real.
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Get The Joke
04/04/2025
Get The Joke
Cam and his wife were at a wedding reception last week. It was beautiful. One conversation, though, has stuck with him. ----- My wife and I stood with a young man at a wedding Saturday night as he lamented the lack of turkeys to hunt at his camp. There were no gobblers, he said, and he was a bit down in the mouth about it. “Why,” my wife asked. “In the spring,” he said, “the hens move to a different place where they like the environment for nesting. The gobblers follow. And wherever those hens go, it’s not on our property. I wish there were something about our place that the hens liked but every spring they move away, and the gobblers go with them.” “Sounds a lot like the bars I used to go to in college,” I said. No reaction. Then my wife joined in. “How about making your place more romantic. Some mood lighting in the woods and you can play Sade and Lou Rawls. That’ll make the hens want to stick around. Make it so romantic they can’t bring themselves to leave.” And she began singing You’ll Never Find Another Love Like Mine and doing a little shoulder dance. She and I laughed at the idea. It was funny! Both of us were imagining two turkeys doing a sensual dance around each other in the middle of the woods to Lou Rawls or Sade under some soft lights. We were wiping tears from our eyes. It was hysterical and we kept the joke going. It was good stuff! The young man’s expression was, well…he was either pitying us, worried for us, or worried for himself. He thought none of it was funny. He didn’t get the joke. He looked awkward because he felt awkward. Two people standing in front of him mopping tears from their eyes to something that he knew flew way over his head. Lou Rawls? Sade? Who were they? Should he offer us a nervous, sympathetic laugh? Should he excuse himself and quickly get lost in the crowd? The poor young man stood there uncomfortably, not knowing what to do. We stopped laughing and an awkward silence hung. It was the age gap. It reared its ugly head and stared all of us in the face. Was the key to getting the joke knowing who Sade and Lou Rawls is? Was the key to getting the joke hearing the song in your head and picturing the turkeys dancing? Was the joke something only old people like and when I was in my twenties would have felt sad for me, too. Does humor, like wine, age and change its complexity? And then, like wine, go bad. I could chalk the whole incident up to my wife and my shared odd sense of humor. I’m not gonna do that. I could chalk it up to our humor having gone bad. That’s not it. I’m going to chalk it up to kids these days. Imagine two turkeys dancing in the woods to this music and try not to smile. Try I dare you. You can’t not smile. It was funny! I worry about the future of our nation. I’m Cam Marston and I’m just trying to Keep It Real.
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Judges Of The Truth
03/28/2025
Judges Of The Truth
It's been a long week for Cam. He's going to get paid one hundred dollars for two days of work that he is required by law to perform. He didn't enjoy it but it wasn't because of the low pay. ------ In grade school I never wanted to be the one to pick teams. I was afraid of hurting someone’s feelings. It’s ridiculous, I know. I like to get along. I like to see people succeed. I’ve never wanted to be the arbiter of someone’s else’s happiness. That responsibility scares me. Monday morning, I was selected as a jury member for a federal trial. It was my first time doing this. I was one of eleven others who would decide the fate of the parties in front of me. And I was nervous. The judge told us that while his title was judge, we were being asked to be “judges of the truth.” I know myself and my flaws all too well. Amongst other things, I can be terribly gullible. I’m not sure I’m qualified to be a judge of the truth. However, by nine o’clock Monday morning, my fellow jurors and I were evaluating arguments. What I saw didn’t help me become less nervous. The solemnity of the proceedings can most closely be related to a religious service. Lots of quiet. Lots of honorifics amongst staff and colleagues. Lots of silence as the parties gathered to whisper, like priests at an altar. Whenever my jury colleagues and I entered or exited the courtroom, everyone stood. It all signaled that this was serious stuff. And as the details of the case became clear, I realized that we, the jury, would render a decision that could eventually lead to the ruin of either of these parties. Desperation appears in the courtroom. To get a win, both parties will bring up things from each other’s past that are deeply regrettable but clearly documented. Anything a witness had hoped was lost to time is now back, being wagged in front of the jury, attorneys painfully drawing out the story and the explanation. People at their weakest. If the judge felt the content was prudent, it was discussed. If not, he firmly shut it down. Embarrassment and shame were left out of his decision to let the content be aired or not. No one was berated but the questioning was, well, very thorough. Fortunately for us the decision was an easy one and the jury was of one mind shortly after we began deliberating. Neither plaintiff nor defendant appeared surprised. We were thanked and dismissed. I don’t know what happened after that. Both parties stood as we walked out. No TV like celebrations or hugs and kisses between the victorious attorneys and their client. It was simply over. In a few weeks I’m to receive payment of one hundred dollars for two days of my time and a decision that may well lead to ruin of the losing party. I did my service. I had to. I would have broken the law had I not. The verdict was easy, thankfully. But I was uncomfortable the whole time. Doing my best to track the arguments and be a “judge of the truth.” I’ve seen a trial now and I can honestly say I hope I never have to be the judge of someone else’s future ever again. I’m Cam Marston and I’m just Trying to Keep it Real.
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Meaningless Conversations
03/21/2025
Meaningless Conversations
On this week's Keepin It Real, Cam Marston shares what exhausts him and how a good conversation is hard to find. ----- It was 1,000 one-minute conversations. A collection of people who all were within a degree, maybe a half a degree, of separation. Hardly a meaningful chat and as the event wore on, the meaningfulness of the chats dwindled further. For so little conversation, it was exhausting. I think maybe that conversations that skim along the veneer of content are more taxing than digging into content. I don’t know. But when I left, I was completely spent. I’m like so many other people claiming that technology has impacted today’s youth’s ability to communicate. I bemoan their addicted behaviors when it comes to their phones. Technology has impacted their ability to talk, I say, or to hold a conversation, or to make eye contact. Today’s technology has made them only interested in what everyone else is doing or saying, unable to engage with what’s happening right here, right now, right in front of them. However, my own behavior at this event wasn’t much different than the complaints I make about them. I can imagine how I looked, flitting from person to person, hardly engaging anyone, only looking for what’s next and who else was there. The event was spectacular. I was the problem. Not long ago I read about a couple who were invited to a dinner party. They normally decline these invitations because they abhor small talk; it wears them out. The host, however, insisted and the couple begrudgingly showed up, fake smiles pasted on their faces. Once the final guests arrived and all were seated for dinner, the host asked a bombshell question: “How do each of you deal with your marital conflicts?” After a moment of stunned silence, the couples began sharing their stories and their tactics and their lessons learned. There was no small talk to be had. It was an immediate deep dive into meaningful content. The reluctant couple had said to each other they’d stay until it was acceptable to leave. They had their departure excuse rehearsed. However, they ended up staying until well after midnight and left energized by the conversations, not depleted. I had lunch with a guy a while back. I had shared a book I enjoyed with him weeks before. When he and I sat down, I asked him what he felt his purpose in life were, which was a major element of the book. When his tone changed and he began subtly mocking me thinking I didn’t notice, I realized I had rushed things. It was too soon for that question. Was it too soon in our lunch? Too soon in our friendship? I don’t know. We both hurried the lunch to a close and he’s avoided me ever since. I was searching for meaningful content and assumed he’d join me. He was having none of it and none of me. It’s too bad, too. He’s an interesting guy. Like most people my age, I’m old enough now that I know a good number of people. I wanted that at one point and, well, here I am. However, at my age, I’m old enough now to realize that I want to know, truly know, many, many fewer. I’m Cam Marston and I’m just trying to Keep It Real.
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Happiness
03/07/2025
Happiness
On today's Keeping It Real, Cam recounts his birthday week which has some unexpected surges of happiness. ----- Happiness is fleeting. It never lasts and I’m not sure it’s supposed to. It’s different than joy and contentment and pleasantness. Happiness bubbles up from an unexpected place and last such a short time. And when it arrives, it sometimes brings tears. Living in constant happiness would render us nearly helpless. It immobilizes you. Living in joy and contentment is great with, hopefully, unexpected surges of happiness from time to time that render us speechless. For my fifty-sixth birthday earlier this week, the good Lord sent me several surges of happiness. I’m old enough now, and wise enough, to know what they are when I feel them and to do my best to live in them for the moments they’re with me. To document them in my head, to let them imprint on my brain, and to know that they’ll end and to cherish their memories. The first one came when a small team of which I was a member successfully executed the opening an event. It was better, I think, than what we had expected. I looked over a large crowd who acknowledged our efforts with a celebratory cheer that lasted and lasted as some of the people we had worked to recognize where indeed recognized the way my team and I had hoped. I looked at my teammate and our grins were, well, enormous. Our celebratory hug was spontaneous, genuine, and heartfelt. Then I watched as one of my children entertained her friends from Oxford who had never seen a Mardi Gras parade or a Mardi Gras ball. They were overwhelmed. My daughter took such great pride in introducing her friends to her traditions and her roots and her friends soaked it all in. They ate it all up. They showed immense gratitude to my daughter in all the experiences they had and all the memories they received. I was happy when I saw my daughter beaming with pride. Her friends had seen and truly appreciated what she was so proud of. And then there’s the moment that brought the tears. It was a friend of my late mother’s who looked at my daughter and immediately saw her. Saw my mother. She said it was in her face and her joyfulness. I confess I had never seen it. My daughter’s only ever looked like my daughter but when I looked through my mother’s friend’s eyes, I saw it. As I stood with my mother’s friend, she began tearing up at the memory of my mother which had suddenly surged back. When I saw the tears and looked at my daughter through her eyes, I felt a surge of sadness, of ache, and, there in it all, was happiness. Happiness that my mother was so loved. My mother died three years ago on Wednesday. And for my birthday I was reminded that my mother was gone only if I let her be. I was reminded that I can keep her with me. Her memory is one I have access to. One I can control. One I can choose. And rather than feel sadness at her untimely loss, I can choose happiness that I remember her. And I did. And I felt it. I’m Cam Marston, just trying to keep it real.
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The Ft. Lauderdale Accord
02/28/2025
The Ft. Lauderdale Accord
On this week's Keepin' It Real, Cam explains the Ft Lauderdale accord and how it's telling him that it's time to move on. ----- My wife and I will be empty nesters in eighteen months. If all goes according to plan, in that time our youngest two will graduate and head to college and if looking back is anything like looking ahead, these next eighteen months will fly by. If you’re a regular listener, you know that my wife and I have four kids. We purchased this house with a family of six in mind. With only two kids left at home, it’s already a lot of space and in eighteen months it will be much larger than we need. So today, just now, in fact, a realtor left. We wanted her to tell us what buying and selling a home looks like today since we’ve not done it in nearly twenty years. What part of our house will new buyers like and how can we accent it. What parts will buyers not like and how can we shore them up. We got from her a list of ten documents we need to find that will help in the sale of the house. And we have eighteen months or so to get all this done. This all stems from my wife and I drawing up a Reverse Bucket List in a Ft Lauderdale hotel room in December. It’s an idea I got from Arthur Brooks’ book called From Strength to Strength. A bucket list is what you want to do and what you want to get that will excite you; that’ll make you happy. A Reverse Bucket List is what you want to get rid of or what you will never do again that will make you happy. At the top of my Reverse Bucket List was yardwork. It also included paying for homeowner’s insurance on rooms and bathrooms and spaces now infrequently used with two children gone. My Reverse Bucket List included clutter and stuff. My wife and I agreed to the gist of the list and we agreed we’d begin slowly working through the list. We’ve termed the list and our agreement to work through it the Ft Lauderdale Accord. Since then, we’ve reference how any decisions we need to make jibe with the Ft Lauderdale Accord. The result has been a slow-moving process of beginning to downsize, to throw stuff away, and the most recent aspect of the Ft Lauderdale Accord was today’s meeting with the realtor. In a very short amount of time, the house downsizing idea has taken hold for me. I walk through the house looking at cabinets and closets and drawers wondering what’s in ‘em and how much of it can we get rid of. Should I put a coat of paint on anything? Should suck it up and get the yard show-ready and drop sod on the places I know it will eventually die because its died four or five times already? My mind is fixed on what’s next. I’m already gone. And I’m now wondering if staying here another eighteen months is too long. Regardless, my inner knower is erasing all doubt that it’s definitely time to move on. I’m Cam Marston and I’m just trying to Keep It Real.
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Paraty
02/21/2025
Paraty
On today's Keepin It Real, Cam reports back about his most memorable event on his recent trip to Brazil. He traveled a long way to come back with this... ------ Cachaca is a Brazilian alcohol that was first made by the slaves the Portuguese brought to Brazil. It’s sugar cane based. Very sweet. And like gumbo, red beans and rice, jazz music, and the Mississippi delta blues among other things, it was what the poor people created due to a lack of resources and that the wealthy people eventually wanted. Crazy how that works so predictably. It’s like clockwork. Anyway, my wife and I were enjoying our first cocktail made of cachaca by the pool last week in a small coastal community north of Sao Paulo called Paraty. However, we struggled to enjoy the drink. And I’m certain you can relate to what happened. It’s become a meme - There was someone in an environment too small for their voice, talking too loudly. It was loud people having private conversations on the phone in small spaces. Loud Zoom calls in coffee shops. You’ve witnessed this. In our case it was a British couple lying in lounge chairs by the pool on speakerphone with their daughter talking about finding her an apartment in London. The father, to be heard, raised his voice to nearly a yell so the phone would hear him from three feet away. Well, my wife and I heard him, neighbors living next to the hotel heard him, the birds in the trees on the coast heard him, the shop owner across town, people in the next city over and the Uruguayans 1000 miles to the south also heard him. We didn’t want to, but we learned a lot about this family and their dysfunctional and helpless daughter. Our relaxing drink tasted like cachaca, lime, and disgust. Around the pool were two other couples. We met and stood talking in the pool. They were really nice. One couple had been traveling since January 1st. They were recently retired and described retirement as having three distinct phases – Go Time, Slow Time, and then, No Time. Go Time is travel. Slow Time too old to travel and now you sit around the house. No Time is travel back and forth to your final doctor appointments. They retired early to have a longer Go Time and were doing it up right. They were telling us about how they planned their extensive trips then, and I promise I’m not making this up, the British man got into the pool and began swimming laps right through middle of us three couples and another guy who had joined us. We stood there in water up to our waists in disbelief. He kicked right through us, splashing us, no more than a foot or two away as he came by. I’d never seen anything like it. Was it aggressive? Or was it just plain clueless? Anyway, the three different couples plus the one guy decided not to move. And he kept swimming. We’d pause our chat as he swam through. It’s sad that after traveling about 18 hours to get to a place way off my radar and another 18 hours to get back home, the only story I have from my trip is about a British man in our pool. Which makes me want to drink lots of cachaca. I’m Cam Marston and I’m just trying to Keep It Real.
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Procrastinating Like a Champion
02/07/2025
Procrastinating Like a Champion
Today on Keepin' It Real, Cam looses focus and finds his mind wandering about an upcoming trip instead of focusing on what need to be done. ----- My day today will be spent studying Brazilian demographics. And I know what you’re thinking: How did I get so lucky? I mean, come on, most of us have to work but you get to spend your day studying Brazilian demographics. How is that fair? Friday, my wife and I leave for a week in Brazil. I’ve been invited to speak at a conference next week in Sao Paulo. These types of invitations are rare for me. While at a conference in November, a young man approached me and said, “Can you do that same speech in February in Brazil?” “Sure,” I said. “No problem. Easy.” Well, it’s not easy. Which leads me to today, carefully studying and incorporating the Brazilian data to replace my US data that I used in November. Much of the data is very similar. Young women are outperforming young men in education. Women are having first babies older and having babies into older age. People are getting married at older ages. Household sizes are falling. Life-spans are increasing, meaning Brazilians will be in retirement longer. There are worrying trends in whether the Brazilian federal system will be able to support retirees long-term, much like there are new rumblings here about whether our social security system will be able to fund payments in the future. All familiar stuff. Up until recently, I would have said their political climate was very volatile with their in and out of favor populist president Jair Bolsonaro but, his ascendance and the turmoil it created looks very similar to what we’re seeing here. Even his presidential portrait is of him in some combination of a scowl and a frown, much like Trump’s presidential portrait that was released a few weeks ago. My comments will be translated into Portuguese as I speak, meaning I need to go slow so the translators can keep up. I find it difficult to pace myself like this. My words will need to be carefully chosen. When normally I can explain something well-enough with a paragraph, I need to now do it in a sentence. Writing these commentaries each week have helped me as a speaker – writing has taught me to be more precise in speaking. And as much as I’m excited to work with my Brazilian client, my wife and I are leaving for Brazil early to enjoy a short trip to a seaside community that will include a drive to a bunch of waterfalls and a tour of the coastline by water. Beaches, waterfalls, plus a trip a distillery that makes something like rum but is not rum. And, truth be told, I’ve spent more time looking into the waterfalls, the coastline, and rum but not rum than I have looking into Brazilian demographics. Focused preparation has been a problem. I’m even looking repeatedly at the weather forecasts for the seaside community – all poor uses of time considering the prep work that is still needed. I’m a champion at finding things to do that are not urgent and finding ways to justify doing them. Like this commentary. And, with that truth-bomb announced, I will now put this away and get back to Brazilian demographics. I’m Cam Marston and I’m just trying to keep it real.
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Unconditional Positive Regard
01/31/2025
Unconditional Positive Regard
On this week's Keepin It Real, Cam reacts to a text from a friend about the hopelessness she feels today as a result of the new presidential administration. There are two sides to this, Cam says. And the healing must begin within. But it won't be easy. ----- There are those of you listening right now filled with anxiety and rage. You can’t believe our nation is full of people who care so little for truth, honesty, and compassion. You can’t believe that you know people, lots of people, who are willing to abandon truth, honesty, and compassion to win. This is not how you were taught to live as a child. These are not the lessons of Aesop’s fables. There is nothing in the New Testament that says this is Ok. However, there are others of you out there equally mystified. “How can you not want this?” you’re asking. How can you not see that our future, both each of us individually and as a nation, will be better? We’re returning to dominance. We’re getting rid of the cheaters and the thieves who have slipped in and are stealing opportunity from you and me. We’re making them pay. We’re righting wrongs. This is what this nation is about. This is who we are. We’ve strayed and we’re now, finally, returning to who we should be. How can you not see this? No argument from either of you will win. No data will convince either of you of anything. No clever wording. No quoting the constitution. No biblical chapter or verse. Deadlocked. Both sides deadlocked. Anxiety and rage. Both sides. Dr Carl Rogers was an American Psychologist who, in 1982, was listed as the most influential psychotherapist in history. Of his many accomplishments, there is one practice of his that I’m using – well, that I’m trying to use – in my interactions with others. It’s called Unconditional Positive Regard. It’s a framework for listening and helping even with those whose opinions are diametrically opposite our own. It’s a learned discipline and it’s not easy. Unconditional Positive Regard assumes that this person in front of each of us has worth, this person in front of us can grow, they can change, they’re eager to learn, they’re curious, they are a person of value. Unconditional Positive Regard. You can see how this powerful outlook can benefit a therapist in their interactions with patients. You can see how someone hoping to pull the best out of another person, who still has hope for the other person, could and perhaps SHOULD engage them with a mindset of unconditional positive regard. It's hard, though. It’s very hard. Especially when what some of you have seen of others brings this quote to mind: “When you worship power, compassion and mercy will look like sins.” To many of you that’s what it looks like out there today. It’s obvious to say, but compassion is not a sin. Mercy is not a sin. None of us should ever hold back on either. And perhaps for all of you listening right now filled with anxiety and rage, holding each other in unconditional positive regard might be step one in healing…ourselves. I’m Cam Marston, just trying to keep it real.
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Snow Day
01/24/2025
Snow Day
Tuesday, Cam watched as a 130 year old weather record was shattered. He took it all in, savoring it as best as he could. ----- It’s strange looking out there right now. Maybe even eerie. I keep looking again to make sure my eyes aren’t fooling me. The top of the neighbor’s magnolia tree is getting small touches of early sunlight and those big, deep green leaves are holding snow. It’s beautiful. And I can’t stop turning to look again and again. How could this week’s commentary be about anything but the weather? So often the meteorologists in my part of the world hype of the incoming storm that turns out to be a big nothing-burger. I panic and put the family in the duck-and-cover position in the bathtub and nothing ends up happening. “Abundance of caution” they always say. This storm they got right. In fact, one of the TV weathermen kept saying the storm “outperformed” – that it did more than they predicted which is opposite of what usually happens. Mobile, Alabama officially received seven and a half inches of snow yesterday. What in many parts of the world would equate to a “so, what?” moment was a record-breaking snowfall, breaking a 130-year-old record. Yesterday I tended to the fire and kept turning to look outside. I had two client Zoom calls and both interrupted to ask if that was rain outside the window behind me. “No,” I said, “It’s snow. And we here in Mobile, Alabama hardly know how to behave.” And we don’t. The roads were largely empty. It reminded me of the teeth of the pandemic when we all stayed home for days. My wife and I finally went outside late in the afternoon and walked down the middle of the busy street not far from our house. Our dog stepped outside and immediately turned around and dove back under the couch – she would have none of the snow. And the birdfeeder seemed extra active as little birds who live comfortably in our warm sub-tropical climate had to keep eating more and more to fuel themselves and stay warm. I learned that being snowed-in lends itself to grazing all day long. Just a little snack here and there and then here again and maybe a little bit more of this and just one more bite of that. I had to make myself stop. And the temptation to open a thick, bold bottle of red wine was overwhelming. Had I made eye contact with a bottle of red-wine I would have caved, but I maintained my Dry January discipline and had a couple of NA beers, instead. I’ve read recently about savoring. Savoring is wanting to know something. To experience it. There is no time pressure to savoring. No pressure for more. No greed. Savoring is an attitude of spirit. It’s a life of spirit. And it’s the opposite of craving, which is an attitude of greed, control and sensation. Yesterday’s snowfall and this morning’s sunrise is an experience I’ll savor. I’ll likely never see anything like this again here on the upper lip of the Gulf Coast. I’ll stay sitting here in my coffee chair and taking it in, as the magnolia tree is mottled with brilliant white and deep green and is now ablaze in the sun. I’m Cam Marston and I’m just trying to Keep it Real.
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Retro Learning
01/17/2025
Retro Learning
On this week's Keepin' it Real, Cam Marston's new effort has been a year in the making and it's finally ready. It's learning delivered the way it used to be and he's very excited for it. ----- Here’s a story for you: An old man lowered his clay jug every day at the well. He did it by hand with the jug attached to a rope. He was very careful to not let the jug bump the edge of the well which was made of stone or else the jug may break. A young man saw all this and proposed a wheel built over the center of the well with a rope that would lower the jug straight down every time. It would be easier and faster. All he had to do was crank the wheel up and down. The old man listened to the young man’s idea and said, “No, thank you. Without the work of lowering and raising the jug, I’m not sure the water would taste as good.” Over one year ago I begin surveying clients and colleagues and having lunches and Zoom meetings with them to discuss a new two and half day workshop I was developing on communication skills. Their reply was unanimous: these skills a desperately needed in our workplace. I asked a lot of questions, have written, rewritten and rewritten the course over and over again and the program launched this past Wednesday. Could the program be delivered remotely? Yes. Could it be pre-recorded and done online at the leisure of the participant? Yes, I think so. Could it be shorted to one day? Or maybe half a day? After all, people are busy. Probably. But none of that’s going to happen. There is a saying in the addict recovery world: What do you do when the very thing that is destroying you is what gets you through the day. For the addict it is drugs. For many of us today, though, it’s urgency. It’s more and more. It’s busyness. Its Fear of Missing Out. It’s the dopamine hit of the flashing or buzzing phone. And I’m as guilty of it as the next guy. So in an effort to make a difference with the people who began with me Wednesday, I’ve created a program that slows the pace of learning. It’s not cramming. It’s learning. It’s savoring new knowledge. It’s dialogue, discussion, eye-contact, and thoughtful progression through learning and relearning skills that, per my colleagues, are desperately needed in their workplace. No PowerPoint. No Audio or Video. Instead it will be flip charts, instruction, dialogue, and practice. Even pencils and not pens. It’s the hard, slow, deliberate work that creates results and will lead to a more fulfilling and successful workplace for my participants. It’s in a sense, retro learning the way it used to be done back in the day before all these tools we’ve created made things, what, quicker, better, easier? Maybe all of those but what I’ve created will be – memorable and transformational. To many of my participants, what’s old will be new again. It’s been a year in the making. And we could get to end of the program much quicker than two-and-a-half days but, like the old man lowering the jug by hand every day, the water simply wouldn’t taste as good. I’m Cam Marston and I’m just trying to Keep It Real.
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Truth
01/10/2025
Truth
On this week's Keepin It Real, Cam has found infinite inspiration for commentaries for years and years to come. ----- I sat quietly this morning and was ready to admit it’s time to quit Keepin’ It Real. I’ve lost my creativity. My energy around writing insightful and truthful things about the world around me was gone. Seven – maybe eight! – years is a pretty good run. Maybe close to 350 or more original pieces – I should be proud of my work and unashamed to put these commentaries to bed. But then… Scrolling through today’s headlines, I spotted a lifeline. Something that will allow me countless weeks of effortless content. It was hard to believe it was true, but… there it was. Mark Zuckerberg was turning off the fact checking on his social media platforms. No longer would Facebook and Instagram work to fact-check people’s posts. They’d let the community of users do it, instead. The article went on to say it was his way of genuflecting to the Cheeto Jesus – our upcoming, return of the king, Commander in Chief. Trump dislikes facts and accuracy so Zuckerberg, to curry favor with him, was ending any reliance on it in his giant megaphone of social media. Wow. If the age of Enlightenment wasn’t already dead, it is dead dead dead now. I’ve always been a fan of the expression “never let the truth get in the way of a good story” and I embrace a good, exaggerated story whether it be my own or someone else. However, today the expression is “never let the truth get in the way of anything.” And what a giant hall pass this offers me in these commentaries. Why tell the truth when our highest elected official avoids it, and his minions support it. So, with that, I’m redoing my biography. You may know me as a commentator for Alabama Public radio who lives in Mobile married with four teenaged children. That was who I was during the days when truth mattered. Now I’m a world-famous commentator who offers sage wisdom and insight and has been feted by the Nobel Prize committees and has turned down Pulitzer Prizes because they weren’t prestigious enough. Sounds good. My four children are the best kids in any environment they ever enter – academics, athletics, needlepoint – you name it they’re the best out of everyone. My previous work was as an astronaut, but it bored me, a lion tamer but the smell of the lions got to me, and, of course out of tribute to George Costanza, I am both an architect and a marine biologist. I’ve built a woodshed once and tossed a fish back into the Gulf, which in this era of non-truth, is sufficient enough to give myself those titles, regardless of what anyone says because those people are jealous liars who are out to get me. My resume and my CV will change by this afternoon and will include the words Adonis, Guggenheim, and National Book Award. I’ll call the bank and tell them the balance I see online isn’t correct, my truth says it is much higher, and they better change it or I’ll sue because the bank has a personal vendetta against me. And my truth says that it’s not the Gulf of Mexico nor the Gulf of America. It’s the Gulf of Cam. It, in fact, has always been. Tell me it's not true. I dare you. I’m Cam Marston and I’m just tyring to Keep it Real.
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Liminal
12/27/2024
Liminal
On Keepin It Real this week, Cam Marston makes some observations on this odd stretch of the calendar between Christmas and New Years. ----- This is a strange time of year every year. Kinda a liminal space between two big holidays. My instinct says I need to be working but the buzz of my email – a reflection of how busy my work world is – is so quiet. It’s hard to get anyone to make decisions right now. Beginning around December 18th, we enter the “let’s circle back on this next year” stretch of the calendar. We go from opening small talk with “So, are you ready for Christmas?” to ending it with “Let’s circle back next year.” I’m as guilty of it as the next guy. My father turns eighty-eight today. He’s turned his pickle-ball crowd onto these commentaries. So, to those of you playing pickleball today at the Via Health Center on Dauphin Street in Mobile, wish my father a Happy Birthday. He will probably try to waive you off, but I know he’ll be flattered to hear from you. One of the most remarkable things in my world today is the activity of my eight-eight-year-old father. He plays pickleball at least four days a week. He’s made a whole new friend group there. Last year they convinced him to get a bike, and when they don’t play pickleball, they’ll often gather downtown and ride together for a few hours, staying away from the hills, and stopping some place for lunch or a beer. Many of them are twenty years younger than my father. They like him. They call to check in on him. They invite him to join them when they schedule things. It’s wonderful for him and it’s wonderful for my brothers and me to know that since my mother’s passing a few years ago, my father has found an outlet. I saw recently that one of the primary ways to determine how long you’ll live is your measure of activity. Said another way, you don’t get old and stop moving, you get old when you stop moving. Dad’s still moving. He can still split firewood with an axe, still keep up with the youngsters on his bike, and still play pickleball several times a week. My daughter calls him to play when she’s home from college and they make a morning of it together at the Via Health Center. Right around the corner on the calendar is Twelfth Night, known more commonly as the Feast of the Epiphany. The traditional date is January 6th and it’s the official start of Mardi Gras down here on the coast. King Cakes begin appearing in bakeries, beads start showing up. Notable and respectable people forgive each other and are forgiven for acting like fools with the culmination being Mardi Gras day which, this year, is March 4th, and, as luck has it, is also my birthday. In years past when my birthday coincides with Mardi Gras Day, I’ve created quite a spectacle of myself. Those days are over though I will enjoy Mardi Gras day a little more this year because it’s my birthday and I will enjoy my birthday a little bit more because it’s Mardi Gras.. Enjoy this odd liminal time on the calendar. Soon enough the grind will start again, and these commentaries will return – hopefully – to meaningful and thoughtful content. I’m Cam Marston just Trying to Keep it Real.
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Russians
12/20/2024
Russians
On Keepin' it Real this week, Cam takes us back to 1988 when he and his team lined up to upset the world order in an all out international rowing competition. It was one for the record books. ----- It was the spring of 1989 in Augusta, Georgia. I was a member of the Tulane University Rowing team and we were there to train for Spring Break. Crew teams from across the south and many of the elite crew teams from the northeast came to Augusta and this perfect stretch of the Savannah River to train during the week and race at the end of the week. A call went out that the organizers were throwing together an unscheduled race at the end of race day. It was open to the first crews who could respond and would feature a race that none of us ever would ever forget. Tulane scrambled to field a crew. I made it lineup, and sat in seat number six, a port-side rower. As our boat was backing down into the starting position I looked to my right. It was the Russian national team. They were in the US to train. We’d seem them practicing – their boat moved effortlessly and screamed down the river. Their powerful strokes appeared to make gaping holes in the water. We’d had sights of them on land and they were all about six feet four and 220 pounds. Cold, solid, hard looking. The Cold War was still on, and since birth, we’d been taught that these people were our enemy. To our left, in a boat on our starboard side, sat the British national team. They, too, were in Augusta to take advantage of the training. Beating the Brits would have been fine, but it was the Russians we wanted. The other five boats in the race were the elite Ivy crews. And there sat Tulane about to disrupt the rowing establishment and make the name for ourselves that we felt we deserved. The starter worked to align the boats, backing some down, pushing some forward until all eight bows were aligned. It was quiet as these commands rang out. Sixty-four rowers sat with backs perfectly straight, leaning slightly forward, oar blades completely submerged, hands tight on the handle, looking forward, steely-eyed, waiting for the start, breathing. The starter finally had alignment and it happened fast. We heard, “Rowers sit ready. Ready! Row!” and we dug in for the first stroke. We were tied with the Russians for maybe one one-hundredth of a second. By the time we had completed ten strokes they were half a boat length ahead. In another ten strokes we could no longer see them. All we saw was their fading puddles where their oars had torn holes in the water. Within twenty seconds our hopes for upending the world rowing order had vanished. It happened fast. And we weren’t really upset at the outcome. Heck, we had just raced the Russians. How many of our rowing peers could claim anything like that? We were a club team, after all, not even varsity. But we did it. We tried. We tossed our hat in the ring and tried to give those commies a good whippin.’ So here’s to you and me throwing our hat into the ring for something for which we know we are completely outgunned in the new year. And doing it anyway. We got shellacked but, heck, I’ve been telling this story for thirty-six years. It was well worth it. I’m Cam Marston and I’m just trying to Keep it Real.
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Top Hat
12/14/2024
Top Hat
On this week's Keepin It Real, Cam Marston has just returned from a few days in Fort Lauderdale. It's a different world down there, Cam says. One that he might have envied at one point in his life. ------ My wife and I returned from Ft Lauderdale Saturday. We were there for a corporate event where I was giving a speech. My client generously offered an extra couple of nights in the host hotel and our room was on the 26thfloor overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. I watched the sun rise each morning as I sipped coffee and read. It began as a faint glow on the horizon to a disk coming out of the water. It was nice. My wife and I haven’t had a chance to do things like that recently. Now that the kids are older, we’re trying to take advantage of them. As we left to go on our trip, we told our kids to please not let us find the house in ashes when we returned. We felt that was reasonable. And it was in pretty good shape when we got home Saturday. South Florida is quite different from South Alabama or, I suspect, most of Alabama. And I guess saying that is simply acknowledging the obvious. I counted five or six different Ferraris which I rarely see around here. I think they’re beautiful. There were lots of Bentleys. There was lots of jewelry on everyone. Lots of senior citizens on the boardwalk late in the afternoon walking together, riding bikes, sitting and visiting. Lot of accents. Lots of people speaking Spanish, and what I think was Russian. Guitar players up and down the boardwalk, busking and playing music they hoped would catch the senior’s attention. My hope for my wife and my trip was to create not a bucket list for the two of us, but a reverse bucket list. Not a list the things we wanted or wanted to do. I wanted us to create list of the things we could do away with. What we could do to simplify. I’ve said it many times to my wife and kids – we could probably get rid of half of the things we’ve accumulated over the nearly twenty years in this house and never miss them. If you’ve lived in the same place for a while, you can probably relate. How and why did we get this stuff in the first place. And why do I have such a hard time getting rid of it. I look at all those things those people in South Florida had, especially the beautiful cars, the jewelry, the magnificent beachfront homes and thought “Wow. That’s beautiful. I’m glad I don’t want it.” And that’s a 180 degree shift and about face from the way I once was – I wanted the stuff, the houses and the cars. Today what excites me is getting rid of the stuff I have. And m y wife is kinda there, too. It’s a part of our journey together of what we want for ourselves from here on out. And what we want will change. Likely many times. Ironically, though, as I say this my wife and kids have asked for my Christmas list – more things I want which includes, partly to my shame, a top hat. Do I need a top hat? No. Do I want a top hat? Yes. In a few years will I wonder why I have it and why I struggle to give it away? Absolutely. I think maybe I’ve identified the problem. I’m Cam Marston and I’m just trying to Keep It Real.
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Regrets
12/06/2024
Regrets
On this week’s Keepin It Real, Cam hopes you have no regrets from Thanksgiving. And if you do, that you learn from them. ----- Well, how’d it go yesterday? Any family flare ups? Any thoughts you wish you’d kept to yourself? Thanksgiving gatherings are famous for finding people’s boiling points and the election having been just a few weeks ago, some are still gloating and others still licking their wounds. Any regrets from yesterday? I heard Dan Pink speak last week at a conference in San Francisco. He’s a New York Times best-selling author and his most recent book is called The Power of Regret. I was invited to go backstage to meet him and he told me how he gathered data for the book. He personally read over 60,000 people’s regrets. He solicited them from across the world and people enthusiastically responded. It was almost a catharsis for many respondents, he said. Like people wanted to get their regrets off their chest. He had to cut off submissions he had so many. Regrets tend to come in four categories, he said in his keynote speech. They’re either Foundation Regrets – where you’re sorry you didn’t do something long ago that would have changed your today – started saving money, read more, gone after the degree, or had a bad feeling about who you were marrying but decided to overlook it. Then there’s Boldness Regret – when you played it safe instead of taking a chance or times when you look back and wish you had spoken up about something. There’s Moral Regrets – You did the wrong thing and it haunts you, something that was very much out of your character. He told the story of a woman who, when she was nine, remembers bullying a girl on the school bus and that behavior has eaten her up ever since. And finally, there are Connection Regrets – when you should have reached out and, instead, let a relationship wither. Whenever you ask yourself “should I call? Should I visit? Should I send a note” the answer, Pink says, is always yes. Pink also showed a slide that shows that regrets increase over time – the more time goes by, the more the regrets of our past haunt us. And our regrets of today sting worse when we make a poor decision right now. “I should have known I was going to regret this,” we say, kicking ourselves. That, Pink says, is our own wisdom, earned over years, trying to exert itself, but we ignore it. So, any regrets from yesterday? Anyone important to you storm off in a huff? Or maybe, did you? Apologies always matter. They make you feel better when you apologize and genuinely accepting apologies is part of God’s magic for relationships. My regrets? Well, I certainly regret the second helping at yesterday’s Thanksgiving meal. I regret the third helping worse. More seriously, I regret losing my temper a few times as a young father. Regardless of whether any of my kids remember it, I can’t forget it. I did the wrong thing and it haunts me. Since my stroke about eighteen months ago, though, I keep regrets in mind. I want to learn from the ones I have and prevent any more. Something to think about as I fix a turkey sandwich for lunch today. I’m Cam Marston, just trying to Keep it Real.
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'Tis The Season
12/02/2024
'Tis The Season
On this week's Keepin It Real, Cam Marston wants you to know he's NOT A CYNIC. But there are things this time of year that just kinda get to him... ----- ‘Tis the season for pensive and sappy messages. I’m so sorry but it’s true. They’re appearing in TV commercials, in client and vendor emails. Letters received in the mail about the joys of the season and now’s the time to be grateful and all that. I hate being a cynic, but it all appears to be virtue signaling to me. The people I know sending these messages are savage businesspeople and it’s like times running out and they’re throwing a Hail Mary pass to make Santa’s good list. Maybe these people really are kind and generous and are thankful for their bountiful blessings, and the season is a gift meant for a deeper understanding of the commonalities of mankind and that the cockles of their heart swell with the love of the joy of the togetherness of their fellow man and the brotherhood of the love of the oneness of all of us…and all that. I can’t help but roll my eyes. I seriously doubt many of these people have heart cockles. I question whether some of them even have hearts. But man, this time of year, people eat this stuff up. My father and I watched a lady on the local news early Sunday morning deliver such a message. Her message was about enjoying the season by simplifying it to the essentials. It’s a similar message that we all hear over this time of year. I was unmoved. My dad, though, was over the moon about it. He thought it was great. He repeated the message aloud several times, full of energy. Dad, I wanted to say, you hear this same message over and over again every year. There’s nothing new here. Instead, I kept quiet. The message made him feel good and I guess that matters for something. ‘Tis season for extras, though. Whoever you are, you can justify something a little bit extra this time of year. “It only comes around once a year, so why not just a little more?” we say. A little more to eat. An extra slice of pie or two. Maybe a whole extra pie. Fill the wine glass a little fuller than normal. Each time. An extra gift for someone and maybe an extra one for you, too. Leave the office a little early. And then a little earlier. And then earlier. Every day of the year only comes around once a year, but these are…different. These days are a part of the Christmas season which, per the displays at Lowes, begins mid-October, making the Christmas season nearly a quarter of the year. Some, like my wife and kids, have no problems with this. What does it matter, they say, if we like the decorations and they make us happy? My position is that the shorter it is, the more intense and special it is. If your default mode is that it’s nearly always Christmas, what’s so special about it? At least that’s what I say to myself, sitting all alone, while what remains of the cockles of my heart burn to cinders. I’m Cam Marston and I’m just trying to Keep it Real.
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