In the startup world it seems that instead of valuing ability, or great leadership, we value people who we consider cool. When they first started out, Bill Gates and Steve Jobs were anything but cool or hip. Being rich and successful makes people admire you after the fact, and somewhere down the road the cool kids learned how to take advantage of brilliant nerds. Eventually, Steve Jobs started to adopt a cool kid aesthetic, and his company followed suit. They recognized that cool sells. At the same time that Jobs started setting himself apart by wearing black turtlenecks and tiny wire-rimmed glasses, his company started walking away from whimsical-looking,  easy-to-use, long-lasting computers, to slim, stylish appliances with no removable batteries, no ports, and no buttons.

The tech world has followed suit. Today’s groomed beards, juice cleanses, kale chips, and energy work are just the latest version of Steve Jobs’ black turtlenecks and wire rimmed glasses. The tech industry was built by dudes with bad fashion sense but a well-developed sense of wonder and adventure. People who cared a lot more about epic hacks and big ideas than about trendy shoes or personal grooming. Guys like Steve’s Jobs’ Apple co-founder Steve Wosniak. But today’s entrepreneur wannabes style themselves much more like late-period Jobs than early-period Wozniak.

I think cool has its place in the success of a startup. But is being cool all you need to succeed? I am not sure. Nevertheless, I would suggest that striving for cool is undermining basic productivity, ultimately getting in the way of startups’ potential success. Before it is too late, I think it is time to recalibrate our conventional entrepreneurial norms, which means we should move past the standard appearance bias and focus on what it really takes to have a successful start up.

First, and before I dive in, let me give you some background. I often write about feelings, dark thoughts, crazy neighbors, and family failings. My observations come straight from experience. It has been years since I have been clear about my connection to the tech start-up world. In truth, it is a world that consumes an extraordinary amount of my everyday life. See, before Dave and I were even married, we were already riding the dot.com boom. Dave co-founded an ecommerce software company in the mid 90s and also owned an e-retailer selling mountain bike equipment. I worked for another early stage startup. We both had a hand in online-commerce-enabling traditional brick and mortar companies. I still remember pitching reticent souls. I can hear them now, “No one will ever buy anything online.” As  we all know, they were wrong. It even seems ridiculous now to ever think they could have been right. That is also why I understand how compelling and frightening ideas really can be. The earth was flat until we were able to see it was round. 

In those early internet days, all of us high tech entrepreneurs goldrushed our way into this new frontier. Once on board it was easy to fantasize on paper money promises. When we hit it big, we were definitely going to buy an east coast mansion. Then the dot com boom went bust,  9/11 blew up the economy, reality set in and our dreams went sideways. Nevertheless, we had some early success, reminding us how great the startup world could be. Consequently, we held on. Dave continued (to this day) pursuing several more tech dreams. I, along with my stress-relieving nicknames for his coworkers, remain an active observer. I was good at deconstructing why Evil Shrek, Lego Darth Maul, The Chief Kale Officer,  and Tiny Hands would not function in a regular, 9 – 5 world. Their dreams were too big. Their leadership was less than mediocre. They stole success for themselves and undermined anyone who got in their way. Occasionally I would wonder out loud, 

“Dave why don’t you work for a more traditional company?” 

His always response:

“It would kill me!”

We continued taking risks. I knew this was a career the day we were able to take out a home loan based on and I quote, “Dave is a serial entrepreneur.” Crazy. 

I focused on raising our boys.  Dave worked on the next big thing. Even when I pressed ad nauseum, I was left in the dark about how bad or great it really was. Our success never came from where we expected — ever. Of course, it was always hindered by people like Lego Darth Maul and Evil Shrek. Instead, those trying to keep the ship afloat were often scapegoated and overlooked. I have always wondered why. Isn’t success partially about the leader’s ability to see who really is getting shit done? Isn’t promotion based on the one who actually knows the product? Alas, no. Seriously, if I had a dime for every leader who promoted the cool kid instead of the smart kid, I could fund a new startup.

As a result of the “cool kid” phenomenon, functioning, healthy teams still do not seem to matter, or better, they take a back seat. Because it is a land built on napkin ideas and unearned wins, bosses continue to believe that a functioning, traditional organization is not necessary. Instead, the long held start-up belief that all an entrepreneur needs to succeed is an idea, some hip dudes, a fridge stocked with kombucha, a venture capitalist with a prestigious business degree and a board member who used to work at Google. 

The upside to this belief is that said start-up works as an exciting, dynamic team, a team where everyone pitches in and gets the work done. The downside to the narrative is that often the team is undermined by unqualified leadership and a delusional vision. And even though this reality has been exposed via television shows like HBO’s “Silicon Valley,” the narrative persists. Again, why? There has to be a reason. Is it laziness? Lack of creative vision? Or simply because that is how it has always been done? 

I sort of get it, or better, I liken it to people who week after week buy lottery tickets. Somewhere out there someone has actually won the Powerball and Megamillions lottery. In fact, in start-up land, I have seen people make millions based on an idea; sometimes even a deeply stupid idea. Back in the day, the partner of my former boss literally made 6 million dollars for registering a domain name. My boss was emotionally destroyed as a result of being left out of this nonsensical windfall. He became obsessed trying to register every single domain name he could think of. Now he is in jail. (Not for domain name squatting, but for something else). I have watched other bosses appropriate, lie, con, cheat, steal, bribe, and bluster their way to the top. Of course, once at the top, I have watched these same under qualified and greedy bosses nosedive the company into the ground. Of course in every startup there is at least one enabler. You know the one. They are the coworker who literally possesses only one job skill: self-promotion. Instead of caring about the company’s success, they thrive in pushing people into an echo chamber of their own greatness. As long as it benefits them, the self-promoter will always enable a boss’ stupid leadership and ideas. In fact, the self-promoter is really good at making a boss feel cool. These shameless self-promoters, with their ironic t-shirts, juice cleanses, paranoid insecurities, half-hearted databases, and overblown sense of their own importance, also defy logic. Using their under qualified bosses, they rise to the top. How?  Well, they are geniuses at getting their naive bosses to see the world through their greedy, self-promoting lens. While the true leaders, those who probably suck at self promotion, are busy trying to save the ship, the self-promoter is using their skill (singular) to appropriate other people’s work and to get other people to do their work. 

Maybe it is a value thing. Meaning, we think good leaders are cool when in reality a successful leader is an excellent, hard working team player, one whose work inspires others to work hard. I am tired of having a front row seat to the nosedive or unnecessary fade into failure. That is why I would suggest that for start-ups to succeed, it is time for this hip, magical thinking-styled narrative to change. For this to happen, I would suggest that company boards, venture capitalists and the startups get over their own self importance  and adjust how they view employees and their roles. Now with a new metric regarding what makes a good leader, the decision makers are able to make space for the competent leaders; you know, those who actually need to be leading these companies. Maybe the first step is to convince all the shameless self promoters that it actually benefits them to promote the smart, capable ones, the ones who will actually make you some cash. 

I will sum my observations up with what a friend just told me:

“A car might be shiny and pretty. Without it’s engine, it cannot run.”

This post Feels Like a Church Talk. I am not sure that is ok, and I am sorry if it does. Feel free to weigh in. YES! I spend way too much time pondering the following question: How can we find a middle? Can we hold space for healthy boundaries and sincere empathy? Can we have healthy bubbles (boundaries) while earnestly inquiring, and then actively listening? Before jumping to steadfast conclusions, can we see the world through someone else’s lens first? I think so.

Here is what I came up with (observed) — Feel free to pushback 😊:

In tandem with politics and beyond religion, I think 99% of us see our everyday world through a very fixed lens. In fact, the other day I clumsily tried my best to penetrate someone’s worldview. My guess is the other person would have preferred I had kept my bubble-bursting mouth shut. Nevertheless and to their credit, they engaged in further discussion and then admitted that they had most definitely put me in a box. Honestly, I was shocked they so easily defined me. I sincerely thought we were like-minded individuals. Selfishly, I kept thinking, “I thought they knew me.” Instead, I misjudged them.

It seems like we humans are much more comfortable in our own protective bubble (myself included). I would even suggest that we have a potpourri of valid reasons and not-so-valid rationalizations as to why EVERYONE ELSES’ BUBBLE is not safe; is naive, bad, dumb, mentally unstable, unworthy, less-than, too Boomer, or does not tell enough dad jokes. We are human. That is why I think that alternately, we let our own bias dictate the terms of how we see you and how we hear you. We decide how you think, if you are cool and if you are worthy enough.

As a result, when someone outside of our personal bubble speaks, I wonder if we really listen. Better, I think we may have our answer before they open their mouth. Even if we tell ourselves that we are like the most open minded, open hearted, nuanced, non-status-conscious, non-racist, Christlike, or supporting-the-underdog person ever born, many of us do not hear or do not believe what we hear. I think that is because we already know our answers before you ever open your mouth. Then, (because we are working on our own response to show you that you are wrong), we decide what your words, we were not really listening to, mean. And now that we know what your words and intent mean, we decide what bubble you fit into. You are now done and dismissed. Full disclosure: I extra do this with tall women, especially those approaching 6’. Before I really listen, I assume they will bully me with their tall womanness (*not a real word), and then I tune them out. (I am not kidding.)

This weird communication feedback loop is why I would suggest that if someone comes close to popping our bubble, instead of allowing our view to expand, we deflect and retreat. We steadfastly dig our heels in, and do whatever it is we do to make our own bubbles more impenetrable. We roll our eyes. We offer (half-hearted) apologies. Then we circle back on said apology (by of course by subtly blaming you). We indignantly purse our lips, force a smile to let you know we are over it. (We are not over it.)

Obviously, all these behaviors signal:

“I am right! You are wrong!”

Arguably, that is why when we hold fast to our own lens, we do not inquire. Better, we do not receive your words. Instead we are looking you over and then we are working out our own response while you speak. We judge. We totally judge. Let’s use me, for example. You look at me. What do you see? An average-sized, middle-aged, blond woman. Do I look safe? Do I look snobby? Do I look friendly? Do I seem worthy? Do I seem dumb? Probably. To some, I am certain I look like a follower. To others, I bet I look like someone who wants to let society raise my kids. To others, I look like (and I know because I’ll quote the characterization verbatim) “a skinny blond bitch.” Honestly, as someone who struggles with her body image, I will take the “skinny blond bitch” comment any day.

Beyond my looks, what happens when I speak? What do I sound like? To some, I am told I sound bossy and way too direct. To others, I seem friendly. To some, I seem shy and socially awkward. I think I still sound overly Midwestern and way too pedestrian (simple). Inescapably, I am sure I am a mishmash of all of your judgements (and my own). I also know it goes both ways. I totally judge. Ask Dave. I even have nicknames for the people I judge like, “The Mormon Moms,” “Drunk Mom,” “The Bat Shit Crazy Lady,” “Cat Stroller Lady,” (This one is just an observable fact. She does in fact walk her cat in a stroller),“Vinyl Gloves Lady,” “Dab Pen Mom,” and “Pervy Dad.” (It seems I am around women more than men, or maybe I judge women more than I do men. What’s up with that?)

Hold on. It is not all bad. Humanity as a whole definitely does not suck. I also believe there is hope. I am sure there is some sort of innate Darwinian necessity which forces us to quickly access threats to protect us from danger. Twelve thousand years ago, those very same discernment tools saved us from saber tooth tigers every single day. Nevertheless, I wonder if this survival instinct has evolved into some sort of self-segregating, “My-team-is-the-best-team,” protection mechanism. Yes. There are bad people. And yes, healthy boundaries are the pathway to love and happy living.

Ultimately, as our world seems to be falling apart around us, I think thinning our bubble layer and uniting are our best hopes. We are stronger together. Really, we are. In fact, just as surely as snap judgements helped our prehistoric ancestors survive, working together was inevitably the primary way they survived saber tooth tiger attacks and took down mastodons. As we work to unite, we can pause and remember that words and the intent behind them have different implications. From personal experience, I would also offer that appearances are not everything. Meaning, your short, blond neighbor may be drinking a forbidden beverage and may also be really nice. The man in the hoodie may just be cold. And that sharp-looking man, the one who never misses a church meeting, may actually be hitting his wife. To everyone: lighten up! (myself included). Rest assured, most of us live in the middle. Look around. Pause. Listen. Connect. We are more aligned than we are different.

And for me, I would suggest if I would give tall women a chance, I may actually see their benefits, like they could totally get me a plate down from a high cupboard.

In the end,

United we stand. Divided we definitely seem to be falling.

I grew up without seatbelts; or better, seatbelts were a suggestion. The backseat only had lap belts. Because we thought lap belts would do no good, we chose not to wear them. Somehow I convinced myself that people in backseats were never injured, right? I remember long roadtrips. I was the youngest, so I got to sleep either on the floor of our giant station wagon, or in the back window. As we drove along, we played guessing games based on what we saw out the window, or were quizzed on flashcards of the United States or US presidents by my mom, or played games we created using a spiral notebook. My brothers, sisters and I listened to music from the finite recordings from cassette players. Then we would break down the harmonies, convincing ourselves we sounded just as good as Simon and Garfunkel. We survived the monotony, and honestly, it was magic.

Our road trips with our own kids began with songs about dinosaurs marching that I burned to CDs. Often on these same trips, if Kyle and Eli were not buckled before I started the car, I remember them losing their shit:

“MOMMY, I AM NOT BUCKLED! I AM NOT BUCKLED!”

I would gently assure them that they would be ok. Then, I would stop the car, put it in park, turn around and help them buckle.

I remember our campervan road trips; dreamily driving along miles and miles of highway. We gave our adorable boys books filled with miniature stickers. Kyle and Eli spent hours using their super cute and very tiny fingers to work those little stickers off their pages. Then they would delightfully comment as they stuck said stickers all over themselves. Eventually, dollar-store Band-Aids replaced the tiny, tiny stickers. Once again on the road, I would hand them each a box. Then, usually with one hand gleefully clutching mine, we laughed about their pretend injuries. They would ask and I would answer:

“Yes. Yes they are absolutely your stickers, I mean, Band-Aids. Have at them.”
“Really, Mom?” They would excitedly ask.
“Really. Go crazy!” I happily responded.

As we drove along, I remember pacifiers, clipped to their shirts, calming their screams. Eventually, there was new music. The boys knew all the words to Pink Floyd’s, “Wish You Were Here.” I can still hear Eli’s tiny raspy voice loudly sing,

“…We’re just two lost souls
Swimming in a fish bowl
Year after year…”

Over time we moved on to portable DVD players playing every “Land Before Time” movie, iPods, iPads, catching Pokemon on the Nintendo DSi, Netflix streaming “Breaking Bad,” Amazon, YouTube, and eventually secret girlfriend Snapchat conversations.

Now, no one really looks out the window, or even at each other. Our best conversations seem to be when I force a walk or a hike. On a daily basis, our solid communication is over text or Facebook Messenger.

Since (what seems) the beginning of time, I have woken up with the boys every school day. When they were young, as they approached the door, I would grab their excited faces, gently orient their eyes to mine. Next, I would make sure we made eye contact. Then I would give them a kiss, telling them I love them and to make good choices. During the years I dropped them off, as we pulled up to their school, I would reach my hand to theirs and say, “look at me. Hand hug.” At first, they lovingly laughed. If I ever forgot, Eli would always reach his hand to mine and say,

“Hand Hug.”

Then he would squeeze my hand tightly. I would tell both boys I love them, tell them I wanted to see their eyes. They would kindly turn their faces toward mine. I looked into their eyes and said goodbye.

At the beginning of his senior year of high school, Kyle, who is still really sweet still about holding my hand or giving me a hug, asked me to stop giving him a kiss on the lips. Wait! Don’t freak out. It was a very pedestrian, Eastcoast-styled, quick peck. Nevertheless, I was like, “Yes.I get it. That might be kind of weird.” So I stopped. Instead and while navigating their unpredictable teen moods, as they walked out the door, I made sure to give them a hug before they walked out the door. Soon, I noticed I was not telling them I loved them everyday like I used to. Instead, I was doing my best to make eye contact without them angrily asking, “What?!” I still take a deep breath and force my arms around Eli, (of course after asking his consent ).

Earlier today I was telling my friend Emily about how it is hard to fit our life into Kyle’s now that he is so far away.

“I want him to be him. I love seeing him fly. It is also hard to go cold turkey from being an everyday mom. I miss seeing his eyes up close, knowing his daily joys and sorrows.” I paused and continued, “Dude, he goes to college halfway around the world. He is not home doing laundry, or home for a quick weekend trip. Seeing him is a huge, coordinated production. His only free time is during breaks. And during his breaks he wants to be with his friends. I get it. I remember. Selfishly, I just wish I could have eased out of this whole being a mom thing a little more gently. I miss my boy.”

To which Emily, wisely and hilarious began singing:

“And the cat’s in the cradle and the silver spoon,
Little boy blue and the man in the moon.
‘When you coming home, son?’
‘I don’t know when.
But we’ll get together then, dad.
We’re gonna have a good time then…’”

Of course I accused her of making me cry. We laughed again. Then she reminded me about emotional to do lists. What an excellent concept! Again, I am grateful I have empathetic and safe places to express this pain. I told Dave just last night, “Maybe I have compensated on the whole ‘Be You’ thing. My mom struggled to let me go. She really did and said it out loud. I do want Kyle or Eli to feel tethered to me. I do not want Kyle and Eli to be held back because I cannot let go. Discomfort is good. It is ok that I miss Kyle. I love him. I cannot even think about when Eli leaves. It is almost too much.”

For today, here we are. Life moves forward.

I love my boys every single day. We wear seatbelts. We try to make eye contact. We rely on Facebook messages and Sunday-breakfast video chats. There are no kisses, only air hugs from halfway around the world, or intentional hugs — when Eli is in the mood. When he comes home, I scream for Eli to come say hello and tell me about his day. Often impatiently (and lovingly), he indulges my request. I am grateful for these moments. I wish I could freeze them forever.

The answer: I have no idea, well, sort of.

BEFORE I launch in, I want to tell you my inspiration for this post. Dave reminded me that CrazyUs.com has a stats package. I decided to take a look and saw that a post from 2012, titled, “Monetizing My Blog,” still gets the most hits. I wondered why and then I wondered why I blog, especially knowing I probably won’t make any money? With my inspiration in mind, here is secondary title post title:

Another More Obscure Title: Can Someone like Quentin Tarantino Do To Early Bloggers What He Did to Revitalize John Travolta’s Career (Thank you, “Pulp Fiction).”

The Answer: (a very low key) Maybe

P.S. Thank you local teenage girls. You taught me the phrase “low key.” You used it that time Dave & I were chaperoning a school sponsored 4-day campout. We were on this hike to a giant rock arch in the middle of nowhere. As we ambled along, I definitely observed an opinionated, bossy, Queen Bee-type girl. I was elated when my conclusions were confirmed when I overheard you say and I quote, “I am low key terrified of her.” In truth, I was also “low key terrified.” She is a beast. The phrase “low key,” is brilliant, by the way. Ever since I heard them, I have attached those two words in front of all sorts of other words.

My “low key maybe” answer brings back to my question about blogging and money and why? Sure, at one time I would argue that there was money to be made in blogging (and the money I speak of is the money available for all the masses). In fact, I am certain if you were a blogger at that time, and if you tried to make some cash, you did. Me, on the other hand, well, at that time, I was not willing to do what it took. I would dip my toe in. Then I would freak out. Ultimately,  I convinced myself that my words were NOT good enough to make my own money. Further, to quell my insecure anxiety, I incessantly sought affirmation. (How annoying!) As such, I never embraced said affirmation. To make it worse, I fell apart when I offended others. I hate hurting feelings. I wanted people to like me no matter what (how unfair). So when I did write something that upset my mom, to no avail I would try rewriting said hurtful words. Then I would to no avail try to convince them I was sorry. I was so dumb. I was also a little selfish wanting my cake and wanting everyone to be happy as I was eating it. I know. I also know that was a long time ago. 

Blogging aside, I also recognize I had a very high need to please and not to disappoint. I also had a neurotically high need to feel worthy of any space I inhabit (obviously). Whatever! I am a work in progress. Nonetheless, as a result of getting in my own way, I chickened out. I did not believe financial offers or opportunities to burnish my fame. I even thought they were joking when I was asked by the show’s casting director to audition for the show “Wife Swap.” I unplugged and I ran away. It is what it is.

Regardless if I could have or would have, I chose not to. Then sometimes I talk about it — still. I also chose not to invest in Apple Stock circa 1999, and in Netflix circa 2000, or buy those two lots next to Willow Creek Park in Park City, Utah, circa 2007. I talk about those moments too. All that to say, I still blog. I have not given up on writing. What does that say about me? Sure, I do not blog regularly. Honestly, except for Angela (Angie), of FluidPudding, I do not think most of the early bloggers regularly blog. I am glad she does. I sat with her at the San Jose airport years ago. She is really cool, insightful, encouraging, and hilarious. She also knits (really well).

I do not knit. I do not craft. I have a bad back so my doctor told me I should not do yoga. I do sit at airports — a lot, which lends itself to people watching, which I also love. I also really love to tell stories, especially about the lives I observe. I want to be relatable. I want to know what it is like to see the world from someone else’s vantage point. Empathy is the best thing ever. That is why I absolutely love the energy of shared connection. Of course, instead of inspiring, most times I fear I am repeating myself, sounding esoteric, or just complaining — again. I am sure the urge to write is easily enabled when my hormones are out of whack; (that is when I am most offensive too, by the way. Because at that time of the month, I think I hate just about everyone. I often do). Regardless of my menstrual-psychosis,  and moody words, since the beginning of URLs, every few months I come up for air. Then I put my crazy out there. 

I am amused that I am still trying to figure out what blogging actually does for me. If there is no money, or better, nothing tangible, what am I getting out of it? What do I expect out of it? Additionally, why don’t I stick to journals instead of writing publicly? If I kept my writing private, I would spare offending my entire family tree, all of my friends, and even my neighbors. What is the pull? Do I want to fail? Do I want to alienate? Do I seek rejection to reaffirm and reinforce that I am not good enough? Maybe. Or am I just weird? Probably!

Ok. Wait. I think I answered my own question a few paragraphs ago. I want to relate. First, let me back up. Somewhere in my deconstruction, I discussed how I have kept a diary. In truth, I have written my life down since the second my church leaders, in fire and brimstone tones, admonished the congregation to keep a journal.

“We are a record keeping people! Please do not disappoint your Father in Heaven!”

I do not want to disappoint anyone. Back then, the last person I wanted to let down was God. He was in charge of my entire eternal salvation. At that, I committed to writing all records of my life down. I have books and books of handwritten accounts of my daily life. I have food diaries. I have boyfriend break-up letters. I have detailed the torments my siblings inflicted. Oddly, my journals are still boring and mundane, except for my college diaries. In college my journals were crazy entertaining. Like a Judy Bloom teen novel, my college experience was filled with so many first times, so much drama, and so much heartbreak. 

I will get back to my point, which is that I have a very high need for connection. In our checked out, social media, digital world, sure, I think online formats are an easy way to connect. I am also a bit of a rambler. Instead of forcing a lengthy Facebook post into a news feed, I would rather people choose to read my words. Hence, the blog. That is why in the end, what online writing gives me is an opportunity to relate. Then there is the bonus. Every once-in-awhile people reflect their experience back. The reflection back is what makes it all worth it. Seriously, it is about the reciprocal connection. So, even if one person is like,

“hey Beth, I read your stuff. My dad is also a tool.”

I am lifted.  I am elated and I feel less alone. 
Today, that is why I blog. And maybe I can remind someone else that they are less alone too ❤️.

Because Kyle is now doing a semester abroad in Sydney, I am crossposting this Sydney Post from our other website, Wanderhive.

Sydney, Australia: A Revelation

Introduction: For years I have been determined to get my husband to travel to Australia. He poo-pooed me at every turn. Alas, I secured some cheap airfare and encouraged him to buck up and do some research. Thankfully, his favorite travel writer, Bill Bryson, wrote a great book on Australia: “In A Sunburned Country.” My husband loved the book, which turned his Australian frown upside down.

After eight days in Sydney our entire family began calling Australia “better America.” With its civilized (plentiful free toilets and drinking fountains), clean and accessible infrastructure, such as miles of coastal walking paths, we found Sydney to be a delight.

In truth, we like to travel on the cheap. We get annoyed with cattle call tours, and like to explore on at our own pace. The other truth is that we heard Australia is pretty expensive (and it is). So, we were determined to find inexpensive & free things for our family to see and do. Below is a list of our some of our Sydney, Australia favorites, our recommendations, with map coordinates and accompanying feedback. Have fun!

Our Favorites:

Wendy Whiteley’s Secret Garden

Maybe because it was our very first stop when we arrived in Sydney, we found Wendy Whitely’s Secret Garden to be a magical place that opens its arms to its visitors. The garden is a delight! It offers sculptures, stunning harbor views and clever walking paths filled with the local flora and fauna. We explored. My boys hung on tree branches. Then they sat on cute little stools. As we looked out onto the harbor we could not believe this inviting oasis is in the middle of the city.

Tramsheds

Our son, Kyle, is the one who suggested we put our favorites near the top. He also said that Wendy Whiteley’s Secret Garden and the Tramsheds were our favorites. I agree. Maybe it is because the Tramsheds housed a Messina Gelato location, or maybe it was so close to where we were staying. I am sure it is the building’s design, the yummy food, the overpriced but cool grocery store, the free 2 hour parking, the walking paths, harbor and park nearby.

Things To Do Recommendations:

Sydney Opera House

• Try to see it at sunset. It is amazing!
• Daily Sail Lightings at 9pm

Sydney Harbor Bridge

• You can see in the picture above that there are people climbing along the very top of the bridge near the flags. But you don’t have to pay for the bridge climbing tour to experience the bridge. You can just walk across it as a regular pedestrian. The bridge is amazing & beautiful.
• Pro Tip: Ride the ferry from Circle Quay toward any of the western ferry routes. You will travel right under the bridge, which was a highlight of our trip.

Royal Botanical Gardens

UNLESS you think you NEED a special tour guide, know this: THE ROYAL BOTANICAL GARDENS ARE FREE. Yes, this means there is no entrance fee. DO NOT be fooled by the GOOGLE MAPS AD (that doesn’t look like and ad) & asks you to buy tickets. The Royal Botanical Gardens are a centerpiece to Sydney, even a walkway to get to the harbor.

• FREE ENTRANCE
• Beautiful banyan and fig trees
• Free exhibits
• The fanciest drinking fountain you will ever see
• Beautiful walking paths
• FREE WIFI

Museum of Contemporary Art Australia

• FREE entrance
• Great exhibits
• We really enjoyed all of the local art.
• The Rocks neighborhood around the museum is a great place to explore.

Art Gallery of New South Wales

• FREE entrance, except for special exhibits within the museum
• Great exhibits
• Wealth of Australian art
• Bonus: I took a picture of a Picasso without being scolded.

Sydney Observatory

• FREE entrance, except for special exhibits within the museum. Seriously don’t let the website fool you. If you scroll down, you will see that there is stated FREE admission, except for special events.
• Beautiful location above the harbor.
• Check the hours. They close early.

Wendy Whiteley’s Secret Garden

• FREE neighborhood garden in the most charming location
• This was one of our favorite spots. You can walk along the winding paths then under the railroad to the waterfront.
• We found 2 hour free parking in the public park close to the garden.

Cockatoo Island

• FREE entrance, accessible via the Sydney public ferry system.
• The island was a prison, then an important military base and shipyard.
• From the UNESCO WORLD HERITAGE WEBSITE:

“Cockatoo Island is a UNESCO world-heritage-listed island in the middle of beautiful Sydney Harbour. Hop on a ferry and explore the island for the day or stay overnight in the campground or holiday houses.”

Manly Beach

• Manly Beach is a gorgeous swimming and surf beach.
• Use the public ferry, not the (private) fast ferry (*see notes about transportation below).

Bondi Beach – Bronte Beach Walk (you can walk the path further. We walked the Coastal Path to Coogee Beach)

We loved the Coastal walk. We also were captivated how the mood of each beach changed. Every beach, however, has a very structured lifeguard team protecting its swimmers.

• Graffiti walls
• Extensive Lifeguard Stations
• Free bathrooms and changing rooms

Sydney Neighborhoods:

All neighborhoods mentioned here can be accessed by public transportation, including the ferry for all neighborhoods except Surry Hills & Haymarket.

Darling Harbour

• Food
• Touristy
• Aquarium and Maritime Museum
• Walkable, including paths along the water

The Rocks

• Groovy street market on weekend (I bought my mother-in-law a handmade card)
• Sydney Observatory and the Museum of Contemporary Art located in this neighborhood
• Locals selling their very cool wares
• Delicious Food Options
• Walkable, including paths along the water

Lavender Bay / McMahons Point / Milsons Point

• Picturesque neighborhood across the bay from downtown Sydney
• Wendy Whiteley’s Secret Garden is a short walk from either ferry stop.
• Great view of the bridge and/or opera house from various points
• Old-timey amusement park, Luna Park

Surry Hills

• Hip
• Foodie Land
• Walkable

Balmain Ferry Stop/ Birchgrove

• Neighborhoody
• Walkable, including paths along the water
• Ballast Point Park (so cool)

Glebe

• We loved the architecture of the Glebe neighborhood. We also loved (again) that we could walk along the waterfront. Glebe is a very active and lively neighborhood.
• Tramsheds: The Tramsheds are on the northwestern edge of the Glebe neighborhood. We made several stops there for Gelato Messina. We also ate at Belles Hot Chicken. I loved their Gluten Free fish & chips. Because we loved their Circular Quay food court location, we wanted to eat at Bekya at the Tramsheds as well.

Haymarket

• Chinatown
• A group of outdoor goods stores
• Seemingly miles of Boba Tea shops
• An astounding assortment of hole-in-the-wall Asian restaurants including PhoV (where my son & I ate Pho)

FOOD:

Gelato Messina Sydney

• Favorite Location: Tramsheds
• Favorite flavor: Salted Coconut & Mango Salsa Sorbet

Bekya

• Middle Eastern with gluten free & vegan options
• We ate at the Circle Quay location

Belles Hot Chicken

We ate at the Tramsheds location.

PhoV

• We at the Haymarket location
• We liked their Pho & Pork Spring Rolls

Woolworths Supermarkets

• I do not need to include a map location for Woolworths grocery stores. They are everywhere. Because we were staying at an AirBnB in BirchGrove, we found it very helpful to have a consistent grocery store so we did not have to eat out for every meal. We did find other more expensive & less expensive grocery stores. We felt like Woolworths had a consistent selection.  
• Woolworths has gluten free & vegan options.

Pro Tips:

• Maximizing Public Transportation: Buy an Opal card for each member of your party at just about any convenience or grocery store. You can start with a small amount, like $20, and top it up at transit station kiosks or online. To minimize expense, try to concentrate your public transportation usage into the same day because there’s a daily maximum charge of $15.80 adult (AUD)/$7.90 youth/child. So after paying for one roundtrip ferry ride, the rest of your ferry, train, and bus travel will be free. NOTE: Some transportation is not included in this daily maximum, even if you can use the Opal card to pay. For example, the private “fast ferry” to Manly Island will charge its own fare even if you’ve already reached the daily maximum.
• BONUS Public Transportation tip: On Sundays you can ride all the public transportation you want for $2.70 (AUD).

• Ferries:  Honestly, we just thought riding various types of ferries around Sydney Harbor was super cool.
• Weekend Parking Rates: Look for parking garages who offer special weekend All day parking rates
• We parked at the Goulburn Street Parking for $12.00 (AUD) for all day parking.
• We wish we would have parked a little closer to things and parked at Wilson Parking Domain Car Park near the cathedral.  Parking there was $13.00 (AUD) for all day parking.
• Nomad Bouldering Gym: Our sons love bouldering. We were able to get a day pass $20.00 (AUD) per person.
• According to my son, Sydney has a healthy Pokemon Go Infrastructure.
• Lodging: We stayed at Meriton Suites & AirBnB. We found that using AirBnB lodging in Sydney for more than 2 people was less expensive.

Enjoy!

It has somehow taken me three years to write about Eli’s jaw. I think my inability to write has something to do with the trauma I witnessed and the utter fear I experienced watching my son experience so many months of so much pain and discomfort.

It was Sunday, January 29. Dave, Eli and Kyle went skiing at Snowbird Ski Resort and met up with our friend Robbie and his boys. It was near the end of the day. Eli and Dave were skiing down a relatively easy run. Eli motioned to Dave that he wanted to jump a thicket of small trees. Our boys are fairly competent freestyle skiers, and to Dave the jump appeared very easy. At that, Dave motioned back with a thumb’s up. Eli jumped. In the air, his ski clipped a branch, and one of his skis flew off, into the air, and planted itself in the ground. Within a millisecond, Eli landed onto his planted ski, slicing his face open, fracturing his jaw in several places, and knocking out his lower right canine tooth.

In Eli’s words,

“I have never heard Dad swear so much. He was completely freaked out! But he made me put my ski back on and ski down to the lift. So I did. People always ask me why I skied down to the lift. I just say, ‘what else was I supposed to do?’”

Of course at the time, to Dave it only seemed like Eli had a deep cut on his face and was missing a tooth.

Within seconds Dave was texting me. Here is what he said.

“Eli crashed. Do you know a good dentist?”
“A dentist?” I asked.
“I think Eli might lose a tooth.”

I was in my pajamas and completely disoriented. I texted my neighbor. Her dad is a dentist. She wanted to know what was up. I had no idea.

Within seconds, Dave was texting me in a panic. I was struggling to understand what was going on. Thankfully, I was able to get ahold of Kyle, who told me that from the lift,

“Mom, there was blood all over the mountain. I knew it was Eli’s.”

I still was not sure what was going on. Eli had recently gotten braces. Because I was unable to really get ahold of a dentist, first I emailed the orthodontist’s office. Within minutes, the office manager called me. Within minutes after that, our orthodontist, Dr. Michael Richards, called me. Anyway, Dr. Richards insisted we do whatever we could to push Eli’s tooth back into place. To this day, I wish I would have. So, while I was juggling dentists and orthodontists, Dave was fervently trying to get Eli off the mountain. Since they were in the back bowl, they had to take the lift up to the summit. There, they were met by Ski Patrol with a stretcher, who were get Eli into the gondola for a direct ride down to the base area. They went to the on-site medical clinic, where the doctor said he was not equipped to determine the extent of Eli’s injuries, and told them to go to the hospital. I still think Dave was in shock. Neither he nor the clinic doctor yet realized how seriously injured Eli was. What he could see was Eli’s unflappable nature, his “missing tooth,” and facial laceration. As a result, Dave thought addressing Eli’s tooth and cut were most important. So he left Kyle with our friend and drove Eli down the canyon. On the way, he called again to see if I had found a dentist. What Dave didn’t realize is that Eli’s jaw was separated so significantly that it appeared Eli’s tooth was gone. The tooth was only pushed out of the socket. What I could hear in Eli’s voice, was the incredible pain he was in. I knew there was something more. I also know that Eli has inherited a lot of my Midwestern stoicism. Meaning, the more significant the pain, the more even keeled we appear. (Sorry, Dave. I know stoicism leads to mixed signals).

Because our home was on the route to the Emergency Room, Dave picked me up. We headed over to Primary Children’s Medical Center. (Pro Tip for Utahns: if your child has a dental emergency, avoid PCMC and head over to IMC). Again, because Eli was eerily calm the Primary Children’s Medical Center staff ER misread the signals and let Eli sit. They finally called a dentist, who said something like,

“It is Sunday and I will only come in if I have to.”

I asked again. The dentist never came. Eventually (and without pain medication), they stitched up Eli’s laceration. During this time, Dr. Richards (our orthodontist) kept calling. He stridently advocated for Eli and that we try to save Eli’s tooth. To no avail, PCMR was not having it. I begged them to keep his tooth right where it was. Eventually, they pulled his tooth. Again, to this day, I wish I would have taken the orthodontist’s advice and pushed Eli’s tooth back into the socket myself. Why, when a medical person speaks, are we so easily complicit? Anyway, still unmedicated, they finally X-rayed Eli’s jaw. I could see the look of horror on their faces. They could not admit they were wrong about letting Eli sit for so long, and without pain medication. Eli had two complete fractures with displacement: The first fracture was a complete open fracture of the lower condyle, which is an area of the jaw that sits about a half an inch below Eli’s right jaw joint. The second fracture was more severe. It ran from the bottom of his chin up through his right side lower canine tooth socket. His canine tooth was pushed out of the socket, and his jaw is completely separated at this point. His fracture was about 3 millimeters away from where his facial nerve enters his jaw. Additionally, he was now missing a tooth, had a deep laceration and a concussion. Then the hospital sent us home.

Here is a text I wrote right before Eli’s surgery: “n a few short hours this amazing, kind and handsome human, our son, grandson, nephew, cousin, brother and friend, goes into surgery. ❤🤕❤️ This week has been challenging to say the least. And Eli is extremely hardcore. His pain tolerance and patience with all of this broken jaw business is unprecedented! ❤❤ We know Eli has a long healing journey ahead (2 months of NO chewing/eating, for instance). And RIGHT now we need all the good energy. SO we ask you to hold Eli close in your thoughts & prayers. Thank You! ❤ And ELI, we really do LOVE you so much it hurts! ❤❤”

A few days later, and after Eli’s jaw surgery, we would learn that Eli also had several additional impact cracks in his jaw bone. The surgeon said that his braces most likely saved his teeth.

Funny story (not so funny story): As I mentioned, Eli needed surgery. PCMC referred Eli to a plastic surgeon. We were in between insurances. Our new insurance started on February 1. Nevertheless, I began the process of scheduling Eli’s surgery with the plastic surgeon. Between January 29 – February 1, we also tried to figure out how to survive until our new insurance kicked in. Oddly (and gratefully), this insurance SNAFU turned out to be a blessing. See, my mom radar kicked in and I never really felt good about a plastic surgeon performing jaw surgery. Consequently, I kept asking the hospital why they would not just send me to a maxillofacial surgeon and a dentist. They kept insisting that a plastic surgeon is the best person for the surgery. It wasn’t until later that I learned that PCMR has a weird relationship with maxillofacial surgeons and dentists. Meaning, they don’t actively contract with maxillofacial surgeons, at least not at that time. (I don’t get it either.) Instead, they cobble together other surgeons who could do the job.

So, there we were, killing time, waiting for Eli to get his jaw put back together. I still do not know how Eli survived these few days. Here is sort of how: Remember how I have this neighbor whose dad is a dentist? The day Eli crashed, I was able to get ahold of her, and she connected us with her dad. Over the next few days, and around-the-clock, my friend’s dad administered lidocaine into Eli’s jaw. Honestly, the reason Eli made it through is because of this man’s loving and generous care. We will always be grateful. This man also teaches in the school of dentistry at the University of Utah. Each time I brought Eli to get another shot, he and I discussed our options. Over and over again, we weighed the pros and cons of using a plastic surgeon versus a maxillofacial surgeon. Ultimately, we were convinced that a maxillofacial surgeon was the way to go. Our decision was affirmed when the maxillofacial surgeon told us that instead of risking damage to the facial nerve that he would wire Eli’s jaw shut to stabilize Eli’s lower condyle. As a result, he would only put screws in the most significant fracture, the complete open fracture through the middle of Eli’s chin. In contrast, the plastic surgeons were going to put screws in both of Eli’s fractures, which would definitely risk severing his facial nerves.

It gets better. Remember our rad orthodontist, Dr. Michael Richards? He continued to check in. Of course being new to mouth injuries, I was eager for his opinion. Remember, he was the one medical professional determined to save Eli’s tooth? Somehow our conversations led me to tell him that Eli would normally need screws put into his jaw so the maxillofacial surgeon could wire Eli’s jaw shut, but he pondered if we could use Eli’s braces instead of drilling screws into his bone. I passed this information along to the orthodontist, then connected the two doctors. Dr. Richards manufactured an extra-strong wire for Eli’s braces with hooks welded on at intervals that allowed the top and bottom to be wired together. The day before surgery, I took Eli, who was still unmedicated, to the orthodontist. Eli wanted novocaine, but the stupid assistant, who no longer works there, said it would take too much time to numb Eli up. So without any sort of pain medication, Eli calmly sat while the orthodontist pulled the separated parts of his fractured jaw together so he could install the new wire contraption. I honestly cannot imagine Eli’s pain. I am sure this is one of the reasons I have struggled to write about Eli’s ski accident. During surgery, and after the surgeon used a titanium plate to hold Eli’s jaw back together, he used the hooks to band Eli’s jaw shut.

Once the surgery was over, the recovery nurse at IMC insisted Eli swallow a pain pill. By that point, a groggy Eli had his phone in hand. He texted me the following:

MOM. I CANNOT OPEN MY MOUTH!”

I already knew that. The nurse did too. I told her she was nuts and was endangering my son.

“His jaw mouth is banded closed. His face is swollen. He will not be swallowing those pills.”

Again, Eli took one for the team. He said he was fine so he could go home. I knew he wasn’t.

For the next two months, Eli’s mouth was banded closed. During this time, his sweet friends brought him milkshakes and would often stand far from his bedside, a little freaked out. I remember mothers bringing their kids by and forcing them to talk.

“Come on, Jon.” One mom implored, “Say something. We didn’t just come over for you to stand there and stare.”

Here is a text I wrote at the time:

“A slog: that is how I would describe this week. Eli’s mouth is banded shut. His surgery went well. And aside from unexpected congestion, a possible popped stitch and a terrible sore throat, Eli’s healing is going as expected — painful, annoying and long. Eli cannot talk, unless you count inaudible sounds. He barely eats. Our house is quiet. And I am certain he is giving Netflix a run for its money. Nevertheless, Eli is hardcore. He is dealing with this most uncomfortable injury with grace and tenacity. Thank goodness for text-to-voice apps, very supporting friends & family, and an injured son who has an impeccable sense of humor! Go Eli! Heal well. And know you are LOVED! ❤❤ Also know how sorry we are that you have to go through this most crappy ordeal.”

In truth, Eli looked disfigured and was in pain. It was hard to be around him. He also loved being remembered. I did not blame these kids for being weirded out. Thankfully, there was one friend who literally saved all the days. Remember my friend’s dentist dad? Well his granddaughter is one of Eli’s friends. She is super calm and easy going. Initially, she came with a milkshake or a Jamba Juice because that’s what you do. Thankfully, she started coming almost every day. Each time, and without expectation, she would get right up next to him and quietly sit. She was never freaked out, or at least she didn’t show it. She never made Eli interact and she appreciated that Eli was starving. Soon Eli was asking me when she was coming by. I will always and forever be indebted to Olivia. She is a kind, empathetic soul and a forever friend. If only her parents, Dave and I could be more like she and Eli, if only.

Eli’s quiet pain was tough. His hunger was hard to see. There are only so many smoothies and milkshakes one can take. During this time, Eli lost forty pounds. He was also the Freshman class president at the time. His advisor would not let up on his responsibilities. So, like he always does, Eli took a deep breath and steadfastly followed through. I was amazed. I still am.

Recently, Eli had surgery to begin the tooth implant process. Because his bone is still so thin at the fracture site, they also need to attach a plate to the screw. Eli handled it with strength and calm, just like he did before. I am still processing.

Eli, we are glad you are ok.