My Mother’s Son.

I was holding my 91-year-old Mom’s hand when she died on Saturday.  And today I’m going to use my tiny bit of weekly attention to make her just a little more famous. She deserves that. Of course this has nothing to do with digital advertising or sales; just a whole lot about real greatness and the resilience of the human spirit.

Pat Weaver was born during the first years of passenger aviation and commercial radio and died during the age of paid space travel and YouTube celebrities. She was a child of the Great Depression, a World War II teenager and an 18-year old bride and mother of five during the postwar years of the baby boom. She did what needed to be done, often at the expense of her own personal opportunities, but always with a sense of joy and optimism. The wife of a Sheriff’s deputy, she always worked at least one job – often two – and was the stable daily presence in the lives of her sons.

She started adult life with a high school diploma, a marriage license and a one-way train ticket from her native Louisiana to Los Angeles. (That’s the trip she’s on in the picture at left.) Perhaps because of this, she became a lifelong learner, earning college credits for decades and writing out copious notes and journal entries on what fascinated her. And everything fascinated her. She faced down cancer and battled clinical depression and mental illness. And though she came age when such things were not to be discussed, she became an advocate for and friend to others who struggled to heal. Nobody suffered alone on my Mom’s watch. Nobody.

During an age that was not particularly kind to women, my Mom was unfailingly kind. In the face of adversity and loss, she chose resilience and optimism. During the final years of life, when many become isolated and despondent, Pat decided to embrace her life and every new person who came on the scene. Anonymous for three quarters of a century, she made her first movie at the tender age of 88. Through resilience and optimism and unquenchable joy, she won. She won big.

If something I’ve written or said to you over the years has made you feel more hopeful or confident – if I’ve helped you somehow – that’s all her. Her being there for me gave me the strength to be there for others.

As anyone would, I love getting awards and hearing praise. But the best thing that will every be said about me is that I was my mother’s son. Living up to that would be my greatest accomplishment. I’ll let you know if I ever get there.

If you are so moved, please consider donating to Mental Health America in the name of someone who inspires you.  And thanks for reading a little bit about my Mom.

Life on Mars.

“At some point, everything’s gonna go south on you… everything’s going to go south and you’re going to say, ‘this is it. This is how I end.’ Now you can either accept that, or you can get to work”

~Matt Damon as Mark Watney in “The Martian,” 2015.

In the dynamically wonderful and broken world of digital marketing, media and advertising, we all live on Mars.  We find ourselves alone in and facing the latest existential crisis.  The technological shift that happens overnight and threatens to render your business model obsolete in minutes.  The public fiasco that frightens the advertiser herd into a stampede away from whatever it is you’re selling.  The dawning realization that – from where you sit right now – you simply can’t get to your number.

This week’s Drift is proudly underwritten by Krux, the Salesforce DMP.  Krux drives more valuable content, commerce, and advertising experiences for the world’s leading marketers and media companies. Clients include Anheuser-Busch In-Bev, JetBlue, Kellogg, L’Oréal, Meredith Corporation, NewsCorp, the BBC, and Peugeot Citroen. Learn more at

It’s at times like these that I like to pass along this little gem of a speech that slid in at the end of “The Martian.”  Having survived the unsurvivable, Matt Damon’s character makes the essence of survival very simple.

“That’s all it is. You just begin. You do the math. You solve one problem… and you solve the next one… and then the next. And if you solve enough problems, you get to come home.”

You just begin.  You do the math.  You solve one problem at a time.  Simplistic? Perhaps.  But is there really any other way out?  When I coach managers and sellers in our business I often find them feeling overwhelmed and broken by the perceived enormity of the challenges.  Indeed, if you find yourself struggling intellectually with the entire issue it will, in fact, break you.  But the best managers and sellers – the best executives of every stripe – all seem to have the same rhythm.  They slow it down.  They break it down.  They solve one problem and then the next.  And if you solve enough problems, you get to come home.

They also realize that what we do – as people and as executives – is a team sport.  They tap into their own generosity and to the generosity of others.  They beat back the crippling cynicism that hollows the soul and drains the spirit and they choose to believe that – given the chance – others will rally to help them.

“Every human being has a basic instinct: to help each other out. If a hiker gets lost in the mountains, people will coordinate a search. If a train crashes, people will line up to give blood. If an earthquake levels a city, people all over the world will send emergency supplies. This is so fundamentally human that it’s found in every culture without exception. Yes, there are assholes who just don’t care, but they’re massively outnumbered by the people who do.”

Welcome to Mars.  You’ll do fine here.