I was struck by the power of expectations in an unusual context last week. Wednesday night, Jill and I went to dinner at a terrific local bistro (great atmosphere, good food, always a good time) followed by the Pink Martini concert at the Flynn. Thursday night we grabbed a burger and frys (their spelling) at Als (their punctuation) and then went to a high school production of Beauty and the Beast. The interesting part was that despite the better food and undeniably fantastic talent on Wednesday night, I felt a bit more energized by the burger and occasionally struggling vocalists of Thursday night. Why? I presume because I know the bistro so well and have all but one of Pink Martini’s CDs, that I expected more from that evening. On the other hand, Als is Als where the black and white tile and red plastic booths are the atmosphere, and the food is not heart healthy. And any high school production where you aren’t connected to the players does not promise high art of high engagement. However, the opening night of Beauty was a beauty. Extravagant and gorgeous costumes, fine acting by a few and acceptable performances by all, excellent voices by a few, terrific sets. All and all that was a surprisingly entertaining show. Don’t get me wrong, Pink Martini was a blast, charming, funny, enormously talented, pulsing energy, fabulous on-stage dynamic; and the dinner before was fine. But sometimes, when our expectations are not high, nights like the high school theater sneak up on us and make for a delightful surprise.

In planning a tribute event for a former Stern Center board member we solicited family photos from his wife and his parents. When the bundle of photos arrived from his parents our team spent many minutes in entertaining discovery as well as personal reminiscence as we (those of us of an age) recognized clothing and hair styles, furniture types, crude technology like dial-phones and rabbit ears, and even the faux leather miniature photo albums produced by Kodak. While I chuckled, recognized and flashed back, I was struck by a powerful, almost visceral reminder of when I wore my Zorro cape, mask, cummerbund, and saber one Christmas morning many decades ago. It’s time to look for those old photos.

You now that phenomenon of buying a new car which you think is reasonably special only to then discover that seemingly 33% of all cars on the road are the same as yours? Or you hear what you think is a new band on the local album station only to learn from 4 out of 10 friends that they’ve all been fans for a year or more? Well, that’s what’s happened to me and ducks. Yes, ducks. The Stern Center is hosting a special event that includes a rubber duck race, and we’ve had our webbed feet wet for a few months now, with the event just a week away. Everywhere I turn I’m bumping into ducks in one form or another, and it’s not just in relation to the race. Admittedly some of it is our own making: the miniature rubber ducks on our key chains, the 8 different styles of rubber ducks lining our hallway, the rubber duck rain poncho tacked on the wall, singing duck puppets, a yellow duck stress ball on my desk (made necessary by all the other ducks flocking in), post-it notes, note pads, event posters. But, as they say on QVC, there’s more which we did not create: I walked into a restaurant yesterday and the Specials Menu is topped with Grilled Autumnal Duck. Someone recommends Lucky Duck wine. I scoop out a handful of M&M’s from a colleague’s bowl and end up with all yellow and orange. There are no new ‘duck puns’ to be made, but people keep trying. I know, I know, this is starting to sound like I might need therapy. Actually, all I need is for us to have a successful event, with lots of ducks in the race, large funds raised for scholarships, and hundreds of happy people enjoying a ducky evening on, of course, the waterfront!

Ducks Unlimited! No, not the hunters/conservationists, but rather a large raft of ducks partially disguised as colleagues here at the Stern Center. Last Friday morning our development/marketing team had another of our seemingly endless work sessions focused on our upcoming event, the First Duck Race. The event will raise funds for our scholarship program while honoring the many contributions of former board member Dr. Lewis First and doing so with the added light-hearted element of a rubber duck race. In a charming and warming show of support, several colleagues appeared in our halls and in our meeting room adorned with various duck regalia. Customized T-shirts imprinted with our event invitations, beaks, webbed feet, hats and visors complete with orange bills and cartoon eyes, feathered boas in yellow/orange/white. It was delightful and uplifting to be greeted by feathers, quacking, and good will at every turn. Human Resources literature abounds with accounts and evidence that people tend to love jobs first because of the people and second because of the nature of the work. The people last Friday are certainly a ‘first’ as they helped us gear up for the First Duck Race!