As a young man, I never understood why anyone needed a belt. As a middle-aged man, I do not go a single day without one. What happened?

When I was a kid, belts were mostly for show. The real prize was having your name stamped across the back or sporting a giant belt buckle that looked as if it belonged to a rodeo champion. It was the 1970s. Subtlety was not exactly in style.

When I landed my first job out of college in 1990, belts became part of the uniform. I had to wear suits, and everyone knew the belt had to match the shoes. Apparently, civilization depended on it.

Then I discovered suspenders.

Back then, suspenders were actually fashionable and not just something worn by grandfathers who spent their afternoons discussing the weather and the price of coffee. My suit pants even had buttons sewn inside specifically for them. I owned at least a dozen pairs, mostly solid colors with a few loud enough to qualify as conversation starters. Amazingly, a few of those suspenders are still hanging in my closet, patiently waiting for a comeback that will probably never happen.

Somewhere along the way, suits disappeared from my daily wardrobe, and suspenders quietly retired with them. Belts took over again. I have bought plenty of them since. It is not because I have some strange belt collection hobby. I simply buy inexpensive belts, and inexpensive belts have a remarkable talent for wearing out at exactly the wrong time.

There may be another factor. As my waistline has expanded over the years, my belts have been asked to perform increasingly heroic acts of engineering. More pressure means more friction, and more friction means another trip to the store. Those of you who are younger, or those of you who have never had to deal with this particular male phenomenon, may not appreciate the challenge. As men get older, our pants seem to migrate south. Whether gravity is winning or our waistlines are negotiating surrender, belts stop being accessories and become essential safety equipment.

My dad understood this long before I did. After working outside all day, he would come home, shower and put on a pair of blue jeans for the evening. When bedtime arrived, he hung those jeans on a hook in his closet with the belt still threaded through every loop, ready for a few more hours the next evening. I used to think he was just too lazy to remove the belt. Then I remembered how mercilessly I teased him whenever he accidentally skipped a belt loop. Suddenly, leaving the belt in place seemed like a stroke of genius.

I have not reached that stage quite yet, but I can see it from here. And if my belts eventually wave the white flag, those old suspenders are still waiting in the closet, ready for one last tour of duty.

Have a fantastic Friday, and thanks for reading. 

Shane Goodman
Editor and Publisher
Times Vedette digital newsletter
shane@gctimesnews.com
641-332-2707

“So, what do you do for a living?”

How many times have you been asked that question? Although I have technically held the same job for more than two decades, my answer changes depending on the day. Publisher. Editor. Salesperson. Problem-solver. Janitor. Amateur therapist. Professional coffee drinker.

But I recently realized that nearly every role I fill boils down to one responsibility: making sure deadlines are met. My own deadlines. Everyone else’s deadlines. Advertising deadlines. Editorial deadlines. Design deadlines. Printing deadlines. Delivery deadlines. Payroll deadlines. If someone could invent a deadline for remembering deadlines, I would probably have that on my calendar, too.

In our business, we juggle dozens of deadlines every day. We have so many that we review them every morning during our team huddle. I started that practice several years ago after hearing one question far too many times: “Is that deadline today?”

No. It was yesterday. We are just discussing it for nostalgia.

Over the years, I have noticed something interesting. Some people almost never miss a deadline. Others seem to treat deadlines more like friendly suggestions. There are surprisingly few people in between. Why?

According to leadership coach Dr. Audrey Reille, it usually comes down to time management, but not always in the way people think.

Some people practice what she calls “task avoidance.” They expect a job to be unpleasant, so they convince themselves it will somehow become easier tomorrow. Spoiler alert: It rarely does.

Others fail to see the purpose of the task. If they believe an assignment has little value, their motivation disappears faster than free doughnuts in a break room.

Then there is the “no stick, no carrot” crowd. They procrastinate because there are no meaningful consequences for waiting and no rewards for finishing early. Without either internal or external motivation, the deadline quietly drifts by.

Finally, there are those who simply cannot say no. They agree to every request, volunteer for every project and pile more onto an already overflowing schedule. Their intentions are admirable, but, eventually, the calendar wins.

Of course, life happens. Emergencies arise. Priorities shift. Most of us have missed a deadline at one time or another. The problem is when missing them becomes a habit instead of an exception.

Deadlines are not about calendars or clocks. They are about trust. Every missed deadline forces someone else to wait, adjust or scramble to pick up the pieces.

So the next time you are tempted to ask, “Is that deadline today?” try a different question instead: “What do I need to finish right now?” Your future self and everyone waiting on you will be grateful. And who knows? You might even beat the deadline for a change.

Have a timely Tuesday, and thanks for reading.

Shane Goodman
Editor and Publisher
Times Vedette digital newsletter
shane@gctimesnews.com
641-332-2707

Motivation is one of those words we use all the time but rarely understand. If you have ever managed employees, coached a youth team, raised children or even tried convincing your spouse to help clean the garage, you have probably wondered what actually motivates people. I certainly have.

Over the years, I have read countless books and articles on the subject, hoping to figure out how to get the best from myself and those around me. Most theories boil motivation down to two simple ideas: pursuing pleasure or avoiding pain. Those are certainly part of the equation, but author Shawn Lim offers a broader perspective with six common motivators.

The first is money and rewards. An early boss once told me money is not the real motivator; it is what money can buy. Lim argues it goes even deeper. He says people are not really chasing the paycheck or the shiny new truck. They are chasing the feelings those things provide. Understanding that difference can shift the focus from the destination to enjoying the journey.

Second is the desire to be the best. Some people simply refuse to settle for second place. Elite athletes, successful entrepreneurs and top performers often share this trait. They sacrifice weekends, get up before sunrise and put in extra hours because they cannot stand the thought of being outworked. For them, winning is not just a goal. It is fuel.

Third is helping others. Thankfully, many people are motivated by making someone else’s life better. They volunteer, mentor and quietly work behind the scenes without expecting applause. Their reward comes from seeing others succeed.

Fourth is power and influence. That may sound selfish, but it is not necessarily a bad thing. Every organization needs leaders. Some people are naturally driven to guide teams, businesses or communities. When that desire is paired with integrity, everyone benefits.

Fifth is recognition. We all know someone who loves hearing, “Great job.” Others are motivated by proving critics wrong. On a related note, many people become even more motivated to accomplish goals when others tell them they can’t. As kids, my friends and I could usually persuade one buddy to do almost anything by calling him “chicken.” Looking back, it was not our finest leadership strategy, but it was surprisingly effective.

Finally, there is passion. People who are passionate about their work rarely need an alarm clock or a pep talk. They are energized by what they do. Unfortunately, many people never find that spark. A friend recently saw a T-shirt that read, “I don’t want a job. I just want money.” It was amusing yet annoying because it rang true.

The trick is realizing that no single motivator works for everyone. Some people chase purpose while others chase praise, competition or influence. The real challenge is discovering what gets each person — including ourselves — moving. Once we figure that out, motivation becomes less about pushing people and more about giving them a reason to push themselves.

Have a fantastic Friday, and thanks for reading. 

Shane Goodman
Editor and Publisher
Times Vedette digital newsletter
shane@gctimesnews.com
641-332-2707

Catch some Zs. Get some shuteye. Hit the hay. Call it a night. Get your beauty sleep. We have no shortage of colorful ways to say, “Go to bed.”

Sleep is not just a luxury. It is how our bodies and brains recharge. Without enough of it, things can get weird in a hurry. According to Healthline, prolonged sleep deprivation can lead to hallucinations, cognitive impairment, irritability, paranoia, delusions and even psychosis. The longest recorded stretch without sleep is about 264 hours, or just over 11 days. That sounds like a college finals week mixed with a newborn baby and a home remodeling project.

Most of us would admit we could use more sleep. The question is, how much? For years, we have been told the magic number is eight hours a night. As a teenager, that seemed easy enough. At my age, getting eight uninterrupted hours feels about as realistic as dunking a basketball.

Some sleep researchers say the answer is not as simple as one-size-fits-all. The Guardian explored common health myths and noted that sleep needs vary from person to person. Some highly productive people, including former British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, reportedly functioned on as little as four hours a night. New parents everywhere are reading that and wondering where they can sign up.

Before you decide to set your alarm four hours earlier, there is a catch. The same Guardian article cited a 2017 study showing that people who regularly slept seven to eight hours performed better on cognitive tests than those who slept more or less, regardless of age.

Fine. Sleep more. Message received. The bigger challenge is figuring out how.

The American Cancer Society offers several suggestions. Go to bed at the same time every night, even on weekends. Clearly, whoever wrote that has never watched “just one more episode” on Netflix.

The organization also recommends avoiding naps after 3 p.m. and keeping naps less than 20 minutes. That sounds reasonable unless you have ever stretched out on the couch during a Sunday afternoon Vikings game. Those naps have a way of turning into accidental hibernation.

Experts also recommend keeping your bedroom dark, quiet and comfortably cool. On that point, I am all in.

Perhaps the toughest advice is turning off televisions, phones and other screens at least an hour before bedtime. I know they are right. I also know my phone seems to become twice as interesting the moment I decide it is time to sleep.

If you have discovered the secret to drifting off quickly and staying asleep, I would love to hear it. Until then, I will keep counting sheep, avoiding late-night scrolling and hoping that tonight is finally the night I earn all eight hours.

Have a terrific Tuesday, and thanks for reading.

Shane Goodman
Editor and Publisher
Times Vedette digital newsletter
shane@gctimesnews.com
641-332-2707

“If it is too loud, you are too old.”

That line has been shouted by more than a few rock musicians over the years, and I have seen it splashed across plenty of black concert T-shirts. It is most often credited to the Motor City Madman himself, Ted Nugent.

Well, Ted, it is too loud, and I am too old.

It was not always that way. There was a time when the volume knob on my stereo simply did not turn far enough. Every song sounded better louder. At least I thought so. I suspect the neighbors at my childhood home had a slightly different opinion.

Back then, my teenage buddies and I could spend hours flipping through the pages of Crutchfield catalogs, drooling over receivers, equalizers, dual cassette decks and, eventually, CD players. There was no Amazon app to scroll through and no next-day delivery. Even if there had been, I doubt we would have used it. Stereo shopping was an experience.

The best part was visiting an electronics store where you could actually hear the equipment. Walking into one of those showrooms was like entering the promised land. Rows of gleaming components. Towering speakers. Buttons, switches and flashing lights everywhere. It was impossible not to imagine how much better your favorite cassette tapes would sound through gear you absolutely could not afford.

Each of us had our favorite brand. Some swore by Yamaha. Others insisted Sony was king. I was firmly in the Pioneer camp. We could not afford the truly high-end equipment, but we also were not about to settle for something from Radio Shack. We had standards, after all.

My speakers were roughly the size of coffee tables. They featured woofers, midrange drivers and tweeters that could rattle the windows without much effort. They sounded fantastic until one of the woofers finally gave up. After that, every song sounded as if it were being performed through a kazoo and a paper towel tube.

I also cranked up my Sony Walkman whenever I went for a run. Def Leppard was practically a performance-enhancing drug. The louder the music, the faster my legs moved — or at least the less I noticed my lungs begging for mercy.

That Walkman eventually died, but my Pioneer stereo survived move after move before my wife convinced me it was time to sell it at a garage sale. I hope whoever bought it occasionally gives the volume knob a healthy twist in my honor.

These days, I am more likely to spin a classic vinyl record or ask Alexa to play my favorite songs. Somewhere along the way, I discovered that music really can be too loud.

Of course, I still know every word to those old rock songs. I just prefer hearing them without my ears ringing for the next two days.

Have a fantastic Friday, and thanks for reading. 

Shane Goodman
Editor and Publisher
Times Vedette digital newsletter
shane@gctimesnews.com
641-332-2707

The two words in the above headline instantly bring a giant glass pitcher with a smiling face crashing through a brick wall into the minds of generations of kids. If you grew up in the 1960s, 1970s or 1980s, you probably spent more than a few afternoons mixing colorful packets of Kool-Aid with sugar and water to create the ultimate thirst quencher. Some of you may even still have the old plastic pitcher with permanent red or purple stains that no amount of scrubbing could ever remove.

Yes, I am talking about Kool-Aid and its unforgettable mascot, the Kool-Aid Man. The brand still exists today under Kraft Heinz, but it doesn’t seem to hold the magical status it once did. Back then, Kool-Aid was more than a drink. It was part of summer.

The story began in 1927 when Edwin Perkins of Hastings, Nebraska, figured out how to turn a liquid drink concentrate called Fruit Smack into a powdered mix that was cheaper and easier to ship. Like many great inventions, it started with experiments in his mother’s kitchen. Production later moved to Chicago, and the wildly successful product eventually caught the attention of General Foods, which purchased the brand.

If you have ever visited Hastings, you know the city proudly embraces its claim to fame. Every August, residents celebrate Kool-Aid Days, and Nebraska even named Kool-Aid its official soft drink. If another beverage deserved the title, nobody has made a convincing argument.

The original six flavors were cherry, grape, lemon-lime, orange, raspberry and strawberry. My favorites were grape and strawberry, although I rarely turned down any flavor that appeared in the refrigerator. Over the years, new favorites such as tropical punch, pink lemonade, black cherry, watermelon and summer punch joined the lineup. Choosing a favorite often depended on which color you wanted your tongue to become.

Then came the marketing genius. General Foods introduced the Kool-Aid Man in the 1950s, and television commercials were never the same. The giant smiling pitcher burst through walls, fences and whatever else stood in his way before proudly announcing, “Oh, yeah!” Every kid secretly hoped that one day the Kool-Aid Man would smash through the family room wall and head straight for the kitchen. I even owned a Kool-Aid Man ringer T-shirt that I practically wore threadbare.

Today, Kool-Aid comes in convenient liquid drops, but convenience is overrated. Nothing compares to standing on a kitchen chair, carefully dumping the powder into a pitcher, adding what seemed like a mountain of sugar and stirring everything together with a wooden spoon. Somehow, it always tasted better when you made it yourself.

Some drinks quench your thirst. Kool-Aid bottled childhood. And every time I hear someone say, “Oh, yeah,” I am reminded that the sweetest flavors are often the ones served with a generous helping of memories.

Have a terrific Tuesday, and thanks for reading.

P.S. If you are curious how Kool-Aid’s TV marketing changed through the years, check out this fun video.

Shane Goodman
Editor and Publisher
Times Vedette digital newsletter
shane@gctimesnews.com
641-332-2707