Hello, Adversity Weekly Roundup #26 - July 29, 2023
Hello, Adversity Weekly Roundup #26 - July 29, 2023
The magic of doing less, taking risks in times of uncertainty, and more.
Happy Saturday everyone!
Welcome to the 26th edition of the Hello, Adversity Weekly Roundup. I hope you had a great week.
In what can only be described as a comedy of errors, I managed to get myself temporarily locked out of my Substack account on Thursday. Not my finest moment. The Substack auto-generated email said that it could take “up to several days” to restore access to my account, which sent me into a panic since I was still working on this newsletter!
Thankfully, the Substack team was quick to respond and I was able to get the issue resolved within a couple hours.
Without further ado (and before I lock myself out again), here are this week’s links:
In her latest post on My Sweet Dumb Brain, Katie Hawkins-Gaar writes about a recent trip to help her friend whose husband had broken his foot. The trip was a welcome respite from the busyness of her fast-paced life and was the result of a conscious decision to declutter her schedule. By saying “no” to extra work and responsibilities, she could say “yes” to more important, fulfilling activities.
While driving to Florida, Hawkins-Gaar came up with a mantra: “Doing less means that I can offer more.”
She says:
I want to do less to give myself space to become more. I want to work reasonable hours each day so I have time to play with my daughter in the afternoons. I want to give myself breaks throughout the week so that, by the time the weekend rolls around, I have something to talk about besides work. I want to stop trying to juggle multiple things at once — dropping a few balls, inevitably — and instead focus my mind and energy on only the most important people and tasks.
Had she jammed her schedule with work and other pressing activities, Hawkins-Gaar could not have been there for her friend in a time of need.
So often we fit our priorities in at the margins of our lives. We run ourselves into the ground while leaving little room for what truly matters. Although we all have to work, finding balance is key. I love her mantra and plan to use it going forward when I get overwhelmed.
My friend Polina Pompliano, author of The Profile and the captivating book, Hidden Genius, recently gave a talk at the Supernode conference on the topic of taking risks in times of uncertainty. It is a topic she knows well; she quit her job as a journalist to set out on her own on the very day of the first COVID lockdowns in 2020.
Whether we are considering a career change, a major financial expenditure, or asking someone out on a date, life is full of risks. Unfortunately, we are often hesitant to make a decision for fear of what might happen. We are risk-averse when sometimes doing nothing is the riskiest strategy.
In her talk, Pompliano shares seven strategies for managing risk in uncertain times, incorporating powerful stories of noteworthy individuals who utilized each strategy.
Risk-taking has been on my mind a lot recently. Next week, you’ll have a better understanding of why.
Robert Kolker tells the story of an Irish Catholic family from Pittsburgh who looked like any other family in the 1970s and 80s. On the inside, however, buried deep within their genetic code, was a mutation that has been handed down through the generations, one that, if inherited, would lead to frontotemporal dementia (FTD).
There are nine siblings in the family; each had a 50/50 chance of inheriting the mutation. Those who had it developed FTD; those who didn’t were symptom-free.
FTD is a devastating disease that affects the frontal and temporal lobes of the brain and causes emotional swings, impulsive behavior, memory loss, and the eventual inability to perform daily tasks. Unlike Alzheimer’s, which usually occurs later in life, FTD strikes in the prime of life, around 40 years of age.
This story is told from the vantage point of Barb, the youngest sibling of the nine, and her niece, C. (who chose to remain anonymous), the daughter of Barb’s older sister Christy (who developed FTD). We see how the disease altered both the lives of those siblings impacted by the illness and the siblings and family members who were in the clear.
Barb and C. wrestle with the decision to get genetically tested to see if they possess the mutation that could upend their lives. They are both younger than 40 and don’t yet know whether they will become symptomatic.
As readers, we can’t help but wonder what we would do in their shoes. The anguish is palpable and there are no easy answers:
Even now, many in the family struggle with how to explain the impossible situation they’ve found themselves in. An earthquake or hurricane or war comes close — only a strange science-fiction version, something not visible or experienced by anyone but them; a disaster existing only inside their family’s genetic code.
There were the facts — it’s inherited, anyone might have it — and there were the deeper questions raised by those facts. How do you feel safe, knowing that it is in your family’s essential nature to be fragile, ephemeral, ever close to expiration? How do you keep living when you know that everything that makes you a conscious person could disappear? If you were going to lose yourself — in a year, or two, or 10 — would you even want to know?
It is a gripping, harrowing, heartbreaking read. The decisions this family has had to make are difficult to comprehend. It is yet another reminder of how, when we see an individual or a family struggling, we likely don’t know the full story.
Baseball Hall of Fame induction ceremonies are always special for me. They remind me of my youth when I watched many of the players on television and collected their baseball cards. Seeing players who meant so much to my childhood (and adulthood!) receive the sport’s ultimate honor never gets old, especially when it’s a Red Sox player.
This year, there were no sure-fire first-ballot Hall of Famers. There was no Derek Jeter or David Ortiz. Nonetheless, it was wonderful to see Fred McGriff and Scott Rolen get their due. Neither had an easy road to Cooperstown. It took Rolen many years before he finally got the call, and McGriff required a special election from the veterans’ committee. Both men were appreciative to receive an honor they weren’t sure they’d ever get.
If their Hall of Fame elections were no sure thing, their early days playing the sport were even more uncertain.
McGriff was cut from his high school team, not unlike what happened to Michael Jordan:
McGriff told the instructive story of trying out for the Thomas Jefferson High varsity team as a sophomore in Tampa, Fla. An upperclassman had first base locked down. The school had no jayvee team. So he tried out as an outfielder. He thought he did O.K. At the end of tryouts, the coach told the players he would post the names of those who made the team that night. McGriff snuck over to the school late that night with a flashlight. He scanned the list. He did not see his name. His heart sank.
Rolen excelled at both baseball and basketball in high school but was plagued by self-doubt. A well-timed piece of advice from his dad changed his journey:
With impeccable timing, Rolen told the story of the simple yet life-changing advice his father gave him when Rolen complained, after two months of playing summer baseball, that he could not measure up to the other players in an Indiana vs. Kentucky high school basketball all-star game. “Well, what can you do?” Ed asked him. Rolen thought about the question and figured he could rebound, hustle and dive for loose balls. A spark was lit. Focusing on what he can do rather than what he cannot became Rolen’s guiding principle.
For every athlete born with innate talent and effortless success, countless others encounter adversity. Children who face self-doubt and setbacks aren’t failures; as McGriff and Rolen prove, they sometimes become Hall of Famers.
If you have a story you’d like me to include in a future newsletter, please email me at HelloAdversity@substack.com or leave a comment below.
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Thanks for sharing the link to Polina's presentation. It was really interesting. I also read the story about the family with the genetic disorder last week. It's almost unfathomable to think an entire family and several generations could suffer the same fate and yet so randomly. I don't know if I could've done what Barb did and not find out what the test results were until so many years later, but I could also understand her reasons too.
Been thinking about the topic of uncertainty a lot lately. Your link to Polina’s talk couldn’t have come at a better moment!