In looking to 2021, use your binoculars
- Brett Hiner: A Work in Progress
- December 30, 2020
- 793
At this time of year, New Year’s resolutions, more than anything, remind me of my failures. On the cusp of making a new one, I think back to a year ago and, honestly, cannot remember what my 2020 resolution was. Maybe it was to spend more time with my family, which COVID-19 so graciously allowed us all to do. Resolution fulfilled … for once.
But, more likely, it had something to do with eating better, losing weight, living a stress-free lifestyle or not continuing to get so invested in Cleveland sports teams — all 2020 failures.
So for some perspective, I recently looked to folks who have blundered more than me, people who, when faced with an important decision, failed miserably, thus making my own seem less significant.
For the sake of argument, let us set aside the obvious, like Bill Buckner letting that “little roller up along first” trickle under his glove, leading to a Game 7 and a New York Mets’ championship in 1986. Dare I mention “Red Right 88,” “The Drive,” “The Shot” or “The Fumble”? All these failures, some more epic than others, seem much more significant than my inability to give up popcorn every Jan. 1.
In my readings this year, I stumbled upon this David Blair fellow. A capable seaman, Blair worked his way up through the British ranks, eventually earning the rank of second officer. The White Star Line assigned him to the R.M.S. Titanic, where he was with the ship during its initial trial voyages to, in the ultimate of ironies, test the ship’s seaworthiness.
Days before the maiden voyage, the White Star Line reassigned Blair to the Titanic’s sister ship, the Olympic, so he could assist with that ship’s layovers. On April 9, 1912, Blair disembarked from the Titanic and, inadvertently, took an item of some significance with him. That item was a key to a storage locker believed to contain binoculars intended for use by the crow’s nest lookout.
The absence of the binoculars became a heated point of contention during the subsequent inquiries. Lookouts Frederick Fleet and Reginald Lee maintained they were told, once the ship had departed Southampton, there would be no binoculars available during the voyage. It is but one of myriad reasons why that ship rests at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean.
With much less tragic consequences, let us consider this Dick Rowe fellow. As head of A & R for Decca Records in the 1950s through 1970s, he was ultimately responsible for signing groups to the record label. In early January 1962, he listened to several recordings of groups who wanted to be signed to a record contract.
Passing the choice off to his assistant, the decision was made to go with Brian Poole and the Tremeloes, who produced one UK chart-topper in 1963. The decision was made, in part, because the Tremeloes were a London band, where Decca Records was located, so they were a more accessible group for studio sessions and live performances.
You might have guessed by now that the group they passed on, because they were from a whopping four hours away in Liverpool, was The Beatles, who literally changed the world and had just a few more than one UK chart-topper. While I might fail at not eating that third helping of cheesy potatoes every time they are placed in front of me, I cannot imagine what went through Dick Rowe’s mind when a Beatles song came on the radio. Every. Single. Time.
Finally, there is Ronald Wayne. To mostly provide some adult business supervision and to oversee mechanical engineering and documentation, he signed on to lead a company with two young “twenty-somethings,” all in exchange for a 10% stake in the business. Just 12 days into their partnership, Wayne grew concerned.
The issue for Wayne is he had other assets while his partners did not. As a result Wayne convinced himself, after one of his partners took out a $15,000 loan to buy computers to service a client, he would be stuck with the bill when the collectors came a-calling. So he removed his name from the partnership and sold his shares back to his two partners for $800. Because the company is Apple and those two novice partners were Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak, those shares today, had he stayed with the company, would be worth $80 billion.
I share these stories not to make light of them — after all, they each carry a degree of tragedy or misfortune — but more as reminder that when making New Year’s resolutions, perspective is much more important than a resolution’s success. At least that is what I will tell myself this Jan. 1.
If 2020 has taught us one thing, it is maybe to not be so hard on ourselves, that maybe we all deserve a mulligan after trudging through 10 months of sporadic quarantines, political nastiness, selfishness disguised as patriotism when it comes to the lack of mask wearing, and an upheaval in familial routines and traditions.
One thing to consider: When looking at the optimism of our world in 2021, the reset it allows for and the resolutions we may or may not make, we should all watch out for those metaphorical icebergs and be sure to carry our binoculars with us.