Stranger Danger

 Growing up in rural Iowa affords parents a certain level of safety. The reason your children are safe is that the community is close-knit. If someone does something evil it will be remembered FOREVER and the shame that it brings upon the family won't magically disappear. 

When I was 6 my brother Marty - an 11 year old - and I went to the Newhall park while Mom and Dad spent time at Theresa's - Newhall's popular bar at the time. I loved the tornado slide. I could go down that over and over for hours.

On this particular day, the Claypool brothers = a bit older than Marty were there. They not good people. One of the first things they did was pee down the tornado slide. 

Not the Newhall Tornado slide, but an exact replica 

Oscar Wilde wrote, "Everything is about sex... except sex. Sex is about power." 

These older boys then tried to molest Marty and me. I don't think they were gay. I think it was about power. They were older and bigger than us so they wanted to assert their dominance. 

Marty and I escaped and returned to the bar much earlier than Mom & Dad expected. Marty didn't want to tell them what happened. Me? I told them exactly what happened. 

The rage Dad went into is something I will never forget. He tore off in the car to their house, ordered Marty to knock on their door and bring them out. (Mom, knowing Dad as well as she did insisted he stay in the car.) 

So the brothers came out and my father screamed louder than I have ever heard him scream. "If you ever lay a hand on either of my sons again, I will rip your balls off so help me God. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," they replied sheepishly.

*****

I am not a parent, but I understand the need to teach your children about stranger danger. Quite simply, there are a lot of bad people in this world. 

I have no regrets being single but when I think back to the story I just told...Dad was lucky he had Mom. If a six year old Steve had told me he had been molested? I'd have reacted exactly the same way as Dad did and without a Joyce in my life? I might well have ended up in jail that night. 

Oscar Wilde's quote is an interesting debate for another day. For today, Marty & I were lucky we had Dad. Dad was lucky he had Mom. 

And in honor of #PrideMonth, there is zero connection between being gay and being a pedophile. So teach your children to be aware of stranger danger. But don't teach them hate. 

The victim card

Why would anyone ever want to play the victim?

My mentor - Bill Spellman - and my mother -Joyce Kranz - both suffered from systemic Lupus. Ultimately it killed them both. 

Before going on I need to explain my relationship with these two people. I was Mom's favorite. I started this blog when I left America so she could hear from me every day. After she died my interest in keeping the blog alive also died. 

Bill Spellman was a man for whom my relationship with him was beyond friendship/family. I knew well before his death I'd be the one giving his eulogy.

Now, back to the premise.

Spellman and Mom had the same amazing doctor at the University of Iowa. I'd drive 6 hours back from my job in Nebraska to take Mom to her appointments with Strotman. Why? Mom had selective hearing. It was important for me to be in the room to take notes and later explain it to Mom in detail. 

Spellman had it worse than Mom but felt grateful. As I said in his eulogy, "How can you feel grateful?" He looked me straight in the eyes and said, "I mean it. So far the lupus is attacking my bones. It could be much worse." 

Mom, on the other hand, saw value in being a victim. My favorite memory of this? The 2004(?) family reunion where Mom told all attendees, "I have less than a year to live." When she sat down I said, "So what are you gonna say next year?" Mom lived another 7 years.

There is no question I am the product of Merlon and Joyce Kranz. I am physically Merlon Kranz. I am psychologically Joyce Kranz... And to be clear, I am also a product of Bill Spellman... My favorite phrase from him? "Fuck you very much." Trust me, I use it a lot. 

The two human beings I was closest to both suffered from systemic lupus. I'd have given my life for either of them without hesitation. One saw it as a speedbump. The other saw it as a way to die as a martyr for a cause. 

Life is weird. 

Crepes

Hi, my name is Steve and I love Nepal. I am an American who also loves visiting Paris. I was shocked a few years back to discover a place in Pokhara that makes better crepes than I've ever had in Paris. My Friench friend Charles was incredulous. There is no way...  

Well, I was happy to take Charles to French Creperie in the heart of the tourist district of Lakeside and when he tried them even he had to admit, "Wow, this is better." If you know anything about the French you know what that was not easy for him to say.

Now I'm more of a savory guy. A gallette is basically a savory crepe. These are also amazing at the French Creperie..

There are so many reasons to love Pokhara. I never thought enjoying crepes and gallettes would be one of them but (shrug) life is weird. 

How do you repay a mentor?

 My mentor, Dr. William Spellman.... when he had his first heart attack the only question I had for his doctor was, "Can I give my heart to save him." I'm not a masochist. My question was not one of vanity for him or me; it was a question I asked because I am economist. The world in 1997 is better if this man lives.

Doc worked hard to teach. (More than I ever have, TBH). When you are incredibly introverted teaching is not easy - as it is for me. Give me a business topic and 5 minutes prep and I can go for as long as you want. It's why I'm on the Hall of Fame wall of my HS. (Extemporaneous speaking attracts nerds... I'm a geek, we are superior.)

We saw each other naked. He saw me shit the bed as I fucked up my early entry into poker - the thing I didn't enjoy but he said, "You have to do this.

As I've said many times, my love for Doc was beyond friendship/beyond family. That, at the age of 27 I'e have given my life for him is a given. 

In a weird way, Doc felt a connection to Dad. I can't say I get it but Life is weird. 

I lost my mentor at the age of 27. Let that sink in. The man I'd have taken a bullet for without a moment's hesitation was taken out of my world at 27. Although Donna gave me permissoin? Doc died knowing I'd give his eulogy. It was Timmy (protoge number 1) or me and I called it first. 

Joyce Anna Ford Kranz

It is easy for me to continue to write.... I can write about Joyce all day. But

The one I want to talk to before I complete her eulogy is Leona. Mom considered her to be her very, very best friend. When Mom died I called Leona to let her know. 

So Judy.... figure out a way Leona and I can Zoom... because I gotra get this eulogy done. 

The youngest of 5 kids, I was Mom's favorite. I say that with no pride. Just as Miriam was Dad's favorite because she was mostl like him psychologically, I was Mom's favorite because I was the most like her psychologically. If you knew Joyce at all you also know that's a double edged sword. Later in life I had a moment with Dad where I said, "Why don't you leave her?" He replied, "This is the life I've signed up for." But this story is not about Dad or me... it's about Joyce Anna Ford Kranz - the most wickedly smart and sassy woman I've met who also had demons that nearly destroyed her family. So buckle up for a eulogy like you have never heard before. 

 In the late 1940's high schools in America gave students the option of going down the vocational route or the academic route. Mom knew she could never afford college so she chose the vocational route. Mom learned shorthand and the ability to type at 100 words per minute without making errors. Back then making errors cost more time than anything because correcting them took a lot of time.

Mom's parents were alcoholics. I have no memory of her mom. My only memory of her is my sister Miriam telling me on the way to her funeral that she felt bad for me because I would never know her. Grandad, on the other hand, I got to know after he had chosen a life of sobriety... and, well, Charles Ford was a hoot. Mom definitely got her sense of humor from him and since I got mine from Mom, Charles Ford lives on with me as he does in Miriam's son Aaron and Kathy's son Greg. 

The reason I have never cared to have children... well there are many reasons. One is the fact that there is a genetic issue in our family. Mom suffered from systemic lupus, a disease that by cosmic coincidence my mentor also suffered from. Doc suffered through it nobly. After an operation that removed a chunk of bone from his arm to be replaced by a metal rod he commented that he was lucky. "Lucky," I replied incredulously. "No, really, I mean it, if the lupus attacks my brain I'm dead in less than 24 hours.

Mom did not take gracefully. She embraced lupus as her right to say or do anything. At the 2004 Ford family reunion Mom announced to all present, "I have less than a year to live." Sitting across from her I rolled my eyes. When she sat down I said, "So what are you going to tell them when you are here next year?" Spoiler alert: Mom lived another 7 years.

If you think I am being overly harsh or critical of Mom then you never met her. She used her secretarial skills to go to work for a lawyer who worked at the back of the bank in Newhall. Dave didn't pay her much but to be honest, she'd have done the job for free.

Mom was the extrovert's extrovert. The woman who engaged people standing in line at the checkout. She was so good at that that Eagles offered to pay for her groceries more than once and challenge us to go to HyVee and buy the same items for a price comparison. 

Mom was lucky enough to have run into Merlon Kranz. Dad was a very good looking guy and drove a great car. They were both teenagers and let's face it, teenagers do stupid things. Dad was the introvert's introvert. The saying opposites attract very much applied to my parents. 

As I was a teenager I convinced Mom to get involved with Benton Community's Fine Arts Promoters (FAP)... in the homophobic 80's I think they could have come up with a better acronym, but I digress. Mom loved this. She not only was popular she became their President during my senior year. Her secret? She introduced alcohol to their meetings. 

I attended every doctor visit I possibly could with Mom. She was notorious for hearing what she wanted to hear as opposed to what the doctor actually said so in a way I was her secretary. One time Mom was having a stent put in a vein close to her haeart. There was one other family there with a procedure being done to their father. All of a sudden we hear, "Code blue" and a nurse with a cart goes rushing past us. The family looked at me, I looked at them and Dad remained blissfully unaware doing the NYT crossword puzzle.  When the other family's doctor came out to say everything was fine they jumped for joy but muted their joy as they looked back at me - the code blue was for Mom.

Because it was gonna be quite some time before they could see their dad they stuck around. By the time Mom's doctor emerged to explain that, yes, Mom's heart had stopped but she's going to be fine that family hugged and embraced me. Dad then was like, "What was that all about." 

For my 21st birthday, Mom took out an advertisement in the Coe Cosmos - the student newspaper of my university. The advert read, "The friends, fraternity brothers and classmoates of Steve Kranz regret to announce that his surprise 21st birthday party has been canceled due to lack of interest." 

Imagine going to your classes and most of your professors have cut that out and put it on their door. Mom knew I was gonna run for Student Body President and this would not help me in any way but to her it was funny. 

I think people often have a sense that their time on this planet is about to end. I know my mentor did. I konw Dad did as I talked with him just hours before... and I guess Mom did. She insisted we all gather for their 59th wedding anniversary.  I was like, Why not wait for 60? "I won't be here" she replied. At first I was a dick, "Mom, do I need to remind you of your family reunion announcement?" She began to cry and I realized this was different. 

We all gathered for a dinner at the Ox Yoke in the Amana Colonies - Mom and Dad's favorite restaurant. The Amana colonies is the right place for my family to meet because it combines good food with good beer. Can you be more German than that?

The best thing I ever did for my parents was to move to the UAE. They took Gus who was their emotional support dog and to make Mom OK with what I was doing I started this blog. That she could read from me every day gave her the reassurance that I'm OK. 

For the conclusion of Spellman and Dad's eulogy I said, "The best thing you can say about a man is that  the world is a better place because he was here."

For Mom I will change it a bit. The woman who delivered divorce papers as a prank for their 25th wedding anniversary has left all Ford/Kranz offspring with a legacy of humor that we shall always try match.

 Dad died in 2014. In 2023 I am giving his eulogy.

It took me 9 years to be able to do it... sorry dad.

Dad was in the audience as I gave the eulogy for Spellman. 11 years later I am in a car with dad and had to explain that my connection to Doc was beyond friendship/family. 

My father was a great man. That it took me 9 years after his death to do his eulogy is shame on me. 

Merlon George Kranz.... As told by his son Steven Merlon Kranz 

https://youtu.be/7B2NXFtM_YA

Uncomfortable

While walking Cujo I came across an Indian brother and sister. He was married and there with his wife. The sister was there with her bestie who has some connection to Beyonce that I never quite understood and that's OK. It's also safe to say they all had consumed more than their fair share of something that had altered their rational/cognitive abilities. Not being vague on this; most likely they were drunk but there was no slurring of the words. If anything I'd say they were drunk the way I am drunk, way too touchy feeling and I love you man vibe.

Anyhow, they were all in love with Cujo in a way that creeped Cujo out. Sahdra (the single sister) wanted Cujo to follow her on Instragram. I made it clear Cujo doesn't follow anyone. She asked multiple times. I created a personal hotspot so she could follow me on FB. I am quite certain tonight is not the only time I will be hearing from her.

I have never been comfortable when someone throws themselves at me. From the time I was teaching at #UofIowa and a student put his hand on my knee and said, "I will do anything for an A" to the time I was at a #SigmaNu fraternity conference in Chicago when a woman got on the elevator with me, grabbed my package and said, "Today is my 30th birthday and I'm buying." I simply do know how to respond. 

None of these events are assault in my book because I never had concern for my safety. It's not like being a petite woman pushed up against the wall because the alpha male thinks it's ok for stars like to grab women by the pussy.

In this case the woman's interest in me in peaked when she found out I was single with no kids. She pretty much offered herself on the spot. Awkward...

To the brother who was talking about their relatives in the US I tried my best to explain, "That's your best path to citizenship. Google chain migration. 

And because the Beyonce woman simply wanted to visit I explained that I have helped dozens of friends over the years get the tourist visa to America... My favorite was my Moroccan friend #Youssef who kept saying tourist in a way that sounded exactly like terrorist. I told him just say #VisitVisa.

The US has two requirements to get a #TouristVisa:

1. Convince them you are not a terrorist

3. Convince them you'll you will go back from where you came.

A single woman/man? Yeah, you're not getting the visa. It sucks, but those are the rules. 

30 years ago my #CoeCollege friend was facing deportation and asked if I would be willing to marry her. I said yes without hesitation. She was/is a good friend. If her desire is to stay in the US I'm simply happy to help. Beth is getting married in a few weeks and I doubt I can make it but I've told her, "If I can, I will." 

I know #LifeIsWeird and we can't know what is coming next... but #ThereByThyGraceOfGodGoI that I didn't die at the age of 23 from drug addiction like my brother Mark. 

Not happy the character here is named Steve but this is worth a watch:
https://youtu.be/1_TPWn9dJmA

In an ideal world a eulogy is performed by someone who knows the deceased well. My Mom's boss - a great man... a World War II war hero had nobody to give his eulogy so the minister who performed it misprounced his name. I was furious and Mom had to hold me back from grabbing the microphone from him to give the eulogy myself. 

That said, what you choose to leave in as important as what you leave out. In the eulogy I have for dad that you are about to hear I left out some important points:

Nobody in Eastern Iowa donated more blood than Dad. When Dad learned he give more often if he donated plasma, he switched to donating plasma.

Dad ran a farm while working a full time job as a saw operator at Link-Belt Speeder. One of his former colleagues said of Dad, "If everyone had Merlon's work ethic there is no way they would have shut down the plant in Cedar Rapids.

Dad gardened more than anyone I've met. At one point he was growing 90 tomato plants, growing nearly an acre of sweet corn and, of course, perfecting his beloved popcorn that we named, Dad's Popcorn.

I so loved that side of Dad that I had early childhood ambition to grow up to be a horticulturalist. Unfortunately, I am Mom. The woman married to a farmer with a very brown thumb... she killed plants faster than anyone you've ever met. The child who would pick up that mantle from Dad was my sister Kathy - who now has the distinction of being a master gardener.

Now... as they say... on with the show. 

My name is Steven Merlon Kranz, son of Merlon George Kranz. As Dad has his father's name as his middle name, I have the honor of being the son to have his name as my middle name. 

Dad was the simplest yet most complicated man I've ever met. Let's start with the simple. 

Merlon was born on May 30, 1934. It was at the height of the Great Depression and his parents were in the process of declaring bankruptcy losing their share in the Newhall Bank and the feed store they were running.

It may be self-serving for me to say this, but Dad was a good looking guy. Self-serving because to see me is to see my Dad. When it comes to looks there is no need for a DNA test; I am my father's son.

Dad was insanely smart. In junior high he taught me square root. What's square root? 3 is the square root of 9. 3*3 = 9. He also tried to teach me tri-root... Dad was one of the few people on this planet who could calculate that... sorry Dad that was one I never quite understood.

Whatever stereotypes you have of cold, standoff Germans? That was Dad. Growing up he spanked me once. I don't what I did but I'm sure I deserved it. And I can count on my fingers the number of times we ever hugged.

I was not only not his favorite child (that was Miriam) I was not his favorite son (that was Marty). 

The best thing that happened for Dad and me was a roadtrip to NYC for my niece's wedding. Dad and I both love to drive so the trip itself was no big deal. Send Mom and her sister on the plane and we'll drive it.

What made the trip special for me? We had a come to Jesus discussion. I was able to unload all of the reasons I thought he was less than a great Dad while I was growing up and he let me know how I was less than a great son. We were both right.

Now to the complicated(?) or perhaps simple.

Dad was of the era where a father's role was to be the provider. Make sure his wife and children always have a roof over their head and food on the table. So long as you do that you are a good father. 

My secret sauce... my gift? The ability to tell stories. It's what makes a great teacher. Although Dad and I were not close until I was 40, I did love to make him laugh and I know for a fact I am the only one to make him laugh so hard he fell out of his chair. I'd repeat the joke here but it was definitely a "You had to be there" joke. 

Let's complicate things a bit more. Dad was extremely close to his brother Wilbert who tragically died from an accident where he was sprayed by gasoline and a spark from an arc welder set him on fire. To say that weighed on Dad is an understatement. Not a day went by that he had Wilbert on his mind. Shortly after Wilbert's death my parents had a son and named him Mark Wilbert Kranz. Steven Merlon could wait. 

Mark was not the ideal son. He was not the heir to the farm Dad had hoped him to be and he gave into his addictions. Shortly before graduating HS Mark dropped out. He later got his GED and appeared to be on a good track. Then his world came crashing down on him and on his 23rd birthday Mark killed himself.

Remember when I said Dad was a cold German? That night was a night where we not only hugged, he wouldn't let go of me.

We all grieve in our own ways. Dad never got over the deaths of Wilbert, Mark, and Mom. 

He knew he loved them and the love was mutual. He simply didn't know how to process it. He never understood the squabbling among his kids. Dad had the "he's not heavy; he's my brother" burned into his psyche so my fights with Marty were something Dad would never understand. "At the end of the day always remember he's your brother." 

"Yes, Dad" I'd reply as I gave him an eyeroll big enough that he laughed. 

Dad's mission in life: Provide for his wife and children was a mission accomplished. He didn't have the skills to understand the touchy feely side of life. He was an introverted mathematician. How Mom and him ever hooked up is that Dad was a good looking teenager and drove a nice car. What did I drive as a teenager? A Chevy Citation. I joked, "You guys really don't want me to get laid."

In 1997 I had the honor of giving the eulogy for my mentor Bill Spellman. I stood in front of 800 people and trust me on this, there wasn't a dry in the auditorium by the time I was done. Dad turned to a friend, "I wish he could say this about me." On the trip to NYC I was able to explain that my relationship with Doc was beyond friendship and family. "It's not a competition Dad," I tried to assure him. 

If you know me, know that psychologically I am 90% Joyce Kranz. I was her favorite. Working for a lawyer she penned a new will almost every year. In the mid-2000's she created one that left everything to me. I was like, "Please don't die before you can redo this one... I do not want the burden." Dad never got himself involved on these things. Mom and I loved to argue; Dad not so much.

Mom and Dad eloped on her 18th birthday. It was the first day they could legally marry without permission from the parents. Dad removed Mom from an abusive home and never looked back. 

At the end of my eulogy for Doc I was able to look at the auditorium and say, "The best thing you can say about a man after his death is that the world is a better place for him having been here."

Although I am saying this to a camera, the sentiment is the same. The world is a better place because Merlon Kranz was here. He was, ultimately, a great man and a good father. 

How I met Prince Andrew

Yahya my now adopted son  - he has awesome parents but I had to claim him as my adopted son because we had falling out for which I said, "If you think of me as your father this will never happen again."

In late 2016 Yahya came to me with an incredible idea. Here I am the spokesman for #dwak

SteveXplains dwak

What makes me good at teaching? I am a great storyteller. Every concept I teach I can tie to a real-life situation. My mentor marveled at my ability to do this. Spellman was like, "Tell me again which example you used on ____" And I was like, dude, the only way I learn is if I can relate a concept to real life. #ISLM is the hardest concept for anyone in the world of #Econ to get and I got after you pounded it in my head 15 times. No offense to Doc or any other Econ prof out there... it's not that hard when you use real life examples...

...Which is something I learned during #covidworld. My teaching assistant Omar was taking a class from a guy that is so bad at teaching I made a video parodying him. 

Anyhow, #Covidboy (as I like to call him... I had to go into quarantine because of him) reminded me how much I love to teach Econ...

Oh, wait, this has nothing to do with Prince Andrew... back to the original script

Yahya had an incredible idea and I was more than on board. Let's light this candle and see where it goes.

Well, it went to #AlAinPharmacy where they signed on to to be a partner. It went to us hearing about an event in #SiliconValley that I was so sure we were going to go to that I paid $800 for a sleeper car on #Amtrak to go from from Mt. Pleasant to San Francisco. 

But #LifeIsWeird and the rug was pulled out from under our feet literally days before we were supposed to leave. 

Yahya was like, "Well, we can still do #PitchAtPalace"

Oh, fuck yes was my response. 

There was a requirement for Pitch at Palace that an #Emirati give the pitch. I knew exactly the man for that job - my #EmiratiBrother Mansour. To say I love the man is an understatement... I asked him to draw up the paperwork that whatever assets I have in the UAE are turned over to him (because I know he won't care about my assets... he will make sure Miriam has them... hope that makes sense) His first question for me? Are you sure you want a Black Ford Explorer?

The man I am entrusting my possessions in this country is only concerned that I my Explorer is the wrong color.... my love for him is such that I laughed hard. 

Mansour is a natural salesman. When he was in HS he managed his family's cafe in Al Ain. That business failed but Mansour took the lessons he learned from that to create a very successful cafe called #LePre. 

When we were walking the streets of London before our pitch Mansour commented that he earned a C+ in his first class with me - Fundamentals of Management. I replied, "I have no memory of you from that class. It wasn't until you had Supply Chain with me that you came onto my radar and I am pretty sure you earned an A for every class after that." If you want more on that you can watch my interview with Mansour here. 

So Mansour and are the spokesmen for dwak. We are both really good at engaging people and making them care. I love writing so knowing what pitch would work for me is easy. Trying to figure out how put our story in a way that works for Mansour was a challenge. That Mansour rose to that challenge and hit it out of the ballpark is a testament to how great he is.

When Mansour presented in Abu Dhabi he was not on his A game. When he came back and sat next to me he said, "We're going to London."  I thought he was being a bit arrogant/presumptuous. He continued, "The rule is that the team that goes is who has the most votes in the room. Trust me, this room is filled with my colleagues. We are going to London."

I have to say, I do not like Prince Andrew. When very bad press came out about him I was not at all surprised. Having been in a fraternity and spent time around guys like Andrew I know them and can spot them a mile away. My sister Miriam is also a good read on people. I told her before the competition, "There is one competitor who is a total piece of shit I wanna know if you can pick him out." She did. As an Occupational Therapist she saw lots of people exploit the illness of a relative to make a buck and that's what this guy was doing.

It was a wild ride and I have zero regrets. The son of Merlon and Joyce Kranz found himself inside Buckingham Palace. 

My only regret? That dwak never came to be. Six years later there is still nothing out there that offers what we were going for. 

 I am Steven Merlon Kranz for a reason. My parents Joyce nnd Merlon Kranz decided they liked they liked the name and then had four other children. By the tine Mom got pregnant with me abortion wasn't legal, Mom liked to smoke and drink and sonehow the pregrancy tests came back negative. 

To say I'm an accident is understatement. Mom literally said to me, "If abortion was legal you wouldn't be here, kid."

Reminder, I was her favorite. 

In the Arab world having your father's name as your middle name is the highest form of respect. To an Arab I am not Steve Kranz I am Steven Merlon. I get that and respect that... but I didn't respect my Dad until our trip to my niece's wedding. 

The moment when two men can clear the air and basically say "Fuck you" to each other it's an awesome moment... and I almost broke down on that trip because of complicated relationship with Dad.... and then I remembered Sunny's relationship with his father. (They are both str8... easier)

Anyhow, I am really good at what I do... Sunny is the man I wish I had the courage to have come out to earlier. 

 My German friend Lukas sent me this:

And he wanted my opinion. First thought?  Nothing in this chart surprises except how low the Nepali and Bangladeshi Americans are... Trust me as someone who is really close to people from both countries... they are the hardest working people I've ever met. So when they do this survey again in 10 years? They will have moved up.

Who will not have moved up? My fellow white Americans. Donald Trump was elected President because white Americans have this incredible sense of entitlement and the others are out to get us. With that mindset their is no hope for my fellow anglo-saxon, white, cis-gender guys like me... so I guess I should get my shotgun and shoot up Bud Light because they had the audacity to have a transgender promote their product. 

Or I have to be an adult and recognize that this experiment of democracy that we call America requires us to accept that we are not all the same. America is not a melting pot, it's a stew. When my fellow Americans get that? We are all better off. 

Deadbeat Dads

 This is the 137th attempt to piece together a eulogy for my father... so your patience is appreciated.

To say Dad was of a different era is an understatement. When Mom died her closest sister Leona quipped, "Joyce married up. If only the rest of us were so lucky." 

To say Dad was a man of integrity is an understatement. There is a reason why distant relatives who I never met named him the executor of their wills. They knew (correctly) that Merlon Kranz would not only do what they wanted to the letter of the law but also to the intent they meant it to be. 

Do I need to mention that Mom worked for a lawyer and for their 25th wedding anniversary she had Dad served with divorce papers very, very publicly at #FMC #LinkBelt. Needless to say, I was Mom's favorite because I helped her do it, but I digress...

Dad saw his only role in life as providing for his wife and kids. To that end he was successful. There was never a day that I worried about a rough over my head or my next meal. Dad saw masculinity as being the provider - not in a way that took away anything from women because, trust me on this, his favorite child was his second child, his daughter Miriam. Miriam has the same sensibilities as Dad so of course she was the favorite. The rest of us were hotheads because we took way too much from Mom... but again, I digress.

When I gave the eulogy for Doc, Dad turned to Ann and said, "I wish he could say the same for me.

The words he was talking about were the last words of the eulogy, "I have always believed the best thing you can say about a man is that the world is a better place for his having been here. As I look around this room I can see how much better Coe and this world was because of Bill Spellman. Each of us has had time to think about the positive impact he had on our lives. By helping us to be better people the spirit of William Spellman lives on,"

There wasn't a dry eye in the room because I'm really good at what I do, but again, I digress.

The world needs more men like Merlon Kranz. I am Steven Merlon Kranz. In the Arab world taking your father's name as your middle name is the highest form of respect you can give. Trust me, I wasn't not only the favorite child, I wasn't the favorite son.  Again, I digress.

So let me cut to the chase... I'd say make a long story short but it's way too late for that at this point.

There is a total POS deadbeat Dad living in Virginia. He got a woman pregnant here in the UAE, isgned the birth certificate so he claim her as a dependent forever and then scooted back to the US where he has been claiming that child on his tax returns ever since and has rarely sent any money to his child.

Her best friend had the same thing with Emirati guy to which Mansour was like, "Give me his name, I will make him pay." 

The best part of Ramadan this year? Spending some time with Mansour's sons. They are lucky boys because they have a good man for a father.

Grudges

 I was very happy for Youssef participating in the Sheikh Mohammed bin Zayed Scholarship Program (SMSP). He had amazing teachers and was able to later get a Master's in HR from NYU. 

One of his teachers in the program was the venerable #BobShrum. In Bob's long storied career he helped shepard Democratic candidates to victories for decades. The problem? On his biggest campaign - the 2004 race for President - he fucked up and the cost to the world cannot be understated.

The fact the #JohnKerry campaign allowed an ad like this to go unchallenged is beyond political malpractice... it was political suicide. 

The 2004 race was very winnable for our side. We had the war hero candidate to contrast against the guy who avoided Vietnam by going into the Air National Guard. So how the fuck did our side allow this swift boat ad to go unchecked?

On election day 2004 the early exit polls looked good. Bob actually told John Kerry, "Congratulations, Mr. President-elect." Ooops. 

I should have grace. Bob did great things in his career but when I had a chance to actually talk to him I couldn't because I wanted to punch him. 

Beyond friendship

 To say I loved Doc is an an understatement. When he had his first hear attack I went to his cardiologist and offered to give my heart for him. My love for him was absolute.

It was also my downfall. I invested too much time, energy, money into him. I have to give him credit, he told it to me.... but Doc was also a dick so?

We can pick our mentors but we can't pick our mentees. In all of my time in higher education I've looked for the Steve to Doc as I was to him. I am good... really good at what I do but to hold out hope for a me to Doc is weird dream to have. It won't happen for a dozen reasons... but, I've made fantastic friends since I moved to the UAE so perhaps my world is not a bad place. 

Minting warriors

Few sectors of the economy have shown less innovation than higher education. Most universities work on the same model that was being run well over a hundred years ago. Meanwhile the cost of attending college has grown faster than costs in another sector of the economy. Quite simply, higher ed has a chin made of glass and somebody has to give it a punch.

Now, everything I said is not originally from me. It's from my wanna be cult leader Professor Scott Galloway at NYU's Stern School of business. 

Professor Galloway believes the goal every university should have is to mint warriors. It's great to offer safe spaces and protections to anyone up until the time they go to college. When I went back to teach at my alma mater Coe College they wanted me to put a pink triangle on my door and I refused. Not because I do not support the LGTB community because of course I do. I refused because I do not see college as a safe space. College is the place where you need to have your beliefs challenged. Where you have your best friend Paul argue philosophy but can't get me as a died in the wool left of center guy to buy in. 

College is the place where you should enter as a sheep and leave as a lion ready to take on the world. We in higher education are doing our students no favors by coddling them. 

Are all gifts bribes?

Many years ago I was teaching a supply chain course. On the first day the guys (and this was an male class) had had me before in the Fundamentals of Management course. They knew me, they knew my expectations and they were horrible. I got through what I had to get through and then slammed my computer shut and said, "You are not aware, but today is my birthday and you ruined my fricking birthday. I hope you come back on Thursday ready to learn."

The next day, the biggest pain in the ass student came to my office and apologized and sheepishly left a Louis Vuitton gift bag on my desk. 

Inside? A Dh 2300 pair of sunglasses. He was long gone before I saw what he had left me.

I shreaked. My friend Jamie next door heard me so he rushed over. He was like, "Wow, I guess I need to learn to guilt trip my students better." 

For all things Emirati I turn brother Mansour. 

Steve: I can't keep this. If he bought me a cup of coffee that's one thing...

Mansour interrupted me. 

Mansour: You have to accept it. He will never ask anything of you. In our culture this is his way of apologizing. 

I followed Mansour's advice and promptly lost or had the sunglasses stolen shortly after. There is a reason I don't buy expensive sunglasses. 

I did make a note about who gave me the sunglasses in my grading excel sheet but I buried it. After I submitted grades I checked it. The student earned a C- in the class. I'll admit I had a temptation to raise the grade but I didn't.  

Professor Sanford

If I were Catholic this post would begin with, "Forgive me Father for I have sinned." Fortunately, I was raised in Missouri Synod Lutheran (so right wing the Catholics are liberal heretics) so I gave up religion decades ago. 

 In January 1990 I was:

•  Running for Student Body President
• Taking an incredibly easy J-Term class from Dean of Students Brian Austin*
• Working 20 hours per week selling electronics at Montgomery Wards
• Shadow taking a course from Professor Sanford because I thought it was interesting

I wish I had that guy's energy now, but I digress...

My friend Scott was taking Professor Sanford's class and my enjoyment every night was devouring the material from the class. The final assignment for the class was a paper that I was all too eager to write. My mistake? I didn't write it at Scott's level. 

When Professor Sanford handed back the papers he gave it to Scott with something like, "This is one of the best papers I've ever read from a student I know didn't write it." 

Scott got an A- in the class. Had I written at his level he probably would have had an A. My bad.

So this post is my confession: I helped a student cheat. There was no bad intentions. I honestly wished I had taken the class instead of Austin's lame Leadership class. 

*My A in the Leadership class was guaranteed before I walked in the door. The Dean of Students was a lousy Dean but he also knew I was going to be Student Body President and I wanted him fired. He asked me to be his TA for the class, which I happily said yes, because again, you can't give your TA anything less than A. I got my A and got him fired. Win-win. 

PS - the reason I loved Professor Sanford even though I never had a class with him: As a student government geek I served on at least one committee with him... Admissions? Academic Policies?... on that I can't remember... but Professor Sanford was one of the few faculty members who gave a shit what I thought. When he endorsed Bruce Babbit in the 1988 Presidential race I came to that ceremony because I really liked Babbit (but I was already on team Dukakis) and because I respected Professor Sanford. 

As a Professor I have read dozens (hundreds?) of papers I know the student didn't write. In one class of Strategic Management I had two projects that were over the top MBA level good. I called the students in and said, "You have the A so long as you tell me who wrote this and where did you get it from?"  What shocked me was that both groups outsourced to Indians working in a book store in Al Ain. What they paid was just over $100. My reaction? You have to give them a $50 tip and tell them not to do such a good job next time. Both groups assured me they would and by Emirati culture I am sure they did. 

 I've been working on writing eulogies for my parents because, Pastor Rempfer gave horrible eulogies for both and, well, I'm the writer child so I need to give it a go. This is the first draft of what I want to say for Mom:

Oh, where to begin…

There is a saying that parents stop having kids when they reach perfection. As the fifth and final child of Joyce and Merlon Kranz I’d like to think that was true… but my Mom wanted me to know that had abortion been legal in 1968 I probably wouldn’t be here.

If that joke seems harsh, buckle up butterbup.

Mom worked for a lawyer so for her 25^th wedding anniversary she served Dad with divorce papers… very publicly in front of all of his coworkers.

For my 21^st birthday she took out an advertisement in the college newspaper, “The friends, classmates, and fraternity brothers regret to announce that Steve’s 21^st surprise birthday party has been canceled due to lack of interest.”

Basically, if you know me? You know Joyce.

Now let’s get serious for a moment. Mom grew up dirt poor with alcoholic parents. As a teenager she’d babysit and by the rules of her parents she had to leave the money she was paid on the kitchen table when she got home. Rarely did she get to use it for herself.

Mom did catch a lucky break when she met a tall good looking man named Merlon. While I am 90% of Joyce in personality, I am clone of my father so calling him good looking is self-serving and I’m OK with that.

Mom and Dad eloped on Mom’s 18^th birthday – literally the first day they could get married without parental permission.

Like me, Mom was the extrovert’s extrovert. She worked for a lawyer in the back of the bank by day and bartended on weekends not because we needed the money… mom needed the people.

All parents want a better life for their kids… with Mom it was “I want a better life for you but I also want to keep it real so anytime you think you’re hot stuff I’m gonna take you down a few notches.”

Mom insisted us kids come to the Amana Colonies to celebrate their 59^th wedding anniversary. I was like, “Why? Why not do something big next year?” Mom said, “I won’t be here next year.”  This is the same woman who announced at a family reunion in 2004 that she had less than a year to live. Spoiler alert, she lived 7 more years. After she made that announcement I asked her, “What are you going to say when you’re back here next year?” I was not her favorite child that day.

Anyhow, we all gathered for the 59^th wedding anniversary. Les than 2 weeks later she was hospitalized and Dad and I spent the day with her… My sister Miriam asked, “Do I need to come down?” To which I was like, “Nah, she’s gonna be OK.” The next morning I woke up to a phone call from Dad, “Joyce is dead.”

I am a lucky man. I got my father’s good looks and my mother’s irascible personality. On their 55^th wedding anniversary I was conducting a wedding… I’ve reverend Steve in case you didn’t know…  asked them “What are the keys to a successful marriage?” Dad said, “Have lots of outdoor projects.” Mom said, “Have a good sense of humor.”

Dad’s job was easy, we lived on a farm so there was no shortage of outdoor projects. And for Mom, she kept her sense of humor to the end… literally cracking jokes with the hospital staff less than 24 hours before she died.

Is the world a better place because Joyce Kranz was on this planet? Absolutely… because if it weren’t for her you’d have never met me.

 

Short your employer?

My friend Mike was an early employee at #McLeodUSA. At one point he had stock options worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. He participated in the company's stock purchase program so in addition to the shares he received as an employee, he was using his personal funds to buy more. At its peak McLeodUSA was valued over $20 billion and most employees felt like Mike #DrankTheKoolAid that #ClarkMcLeod was serving them.

Unfortunately for Mike, the #telecom boom of the 1990's became a casualty of the #dotcom bubble bursting in 2000. Very quickly share prices fell and very few employees sold in time to make their stock options worth anything and eventually the company filed for #bankruptcy and most employees, including Mike, lost their jobs. 

Mike went on to for #YellowBook. I will spare you the details. Ask a 20 year old what a phone book is... My reason for writing this... What if Mike had chosen to hedge his bets and shorted the company he was working for? If McLeodUSA went to the moon Mike is rich on his stock options. If McLeodUSA goes belly up he gets rich because he was smart enough to short it. 

I'm not sure if shorting your employer is a good strategy but I am equally not sure if it is not a bad strategy. 

#StockOptions #Employer 

What's in a kiss?

I am not into kissing. I was raised in a cold German family. We didn't hug, let alone kiss. My first girlfriend loved kissing and to me it was like an obligation to make her happy... 100% certain I sucked as a kisser and have no idea why she stayed with me.

Well into adulthood I have discussed the fact I am not into kissing... doesn't rock my boat... doesn't make me see stars... doesn't do anything that those who love kissing say it does for them. Sucks for me, I guess.

But honestly I am ok with not kissing. I went to therapy for awhile and the therapist basically told me that my lack of desire to kiss is me having intimacy issues and I'll never be happy so long as I am not comfortable kissing. He may have been right but paying him $150/hour to tell me something I already kinda knew didn't seem like a good investment so I stopped going.

Over the years I have had countless female friends hear me say this and said to me, "You simply weren't kissing the right woman... Let me make out with you..." Umm, no. (For the record, countless is an exaggeration but more than a dozen is not an exaggeration.) 

It's the conversation with men on this topic I find more interesting. I have Str8 male friends who have said they are with me... solidarity brother... "I make out long enough that my partner is willing to have sex" is their mantra. 

One time I'm with a married male friend... it's just the two of us... he poured his heart out to me about his doubts in his marriage, how he is scared about becoming a dad, etc. Since he made himself emotionally vulnerable I felt the need to reciprocate. Unfortunately for me I am the extrovert's extrovert. I have no secrets. If you are a tech geek I am what is known as WYSIWIG (What you see is what you get)... so I told him about my issues with kissing. A few drinks later I get up for the bathroom and he literally jumps me, pushes me against the wall and starts kissing me. Passionately.

What's going through my mind:

1. Really? Gaydar never went off on you. I am surprised.
2. You are married and have a child on the way. What would your wife think if she walked in now?
3. Yeah, like I said, kissing does nothing for me... so you forcing yourself on me is not changing my mind on this topic.

The events in the story above are about a guy who is still married, their daughter (who was an embryo during the events I am describing) is now a college graduate. Life is weird.

Fast forward to just a few years ago... and it was pretty much a repeat situation. A very close Str8 male friend felt the need to stick his tongue down my throat to convince me that kissing is awesome. 

My thoughts after round 2?

1. I am not, never was, never will be offended. Some would label what they did as assault. It wasn't... it was a drunk/high friend trying to let me know what I was missing out on.
2. I never once was worried for my personal safety... I was not stoned and not really even drunk... if I needed to fight them off I was not worried.
3. If I am 100% honest I'd have to admit I was flattered. Never in a million years would I have expected this from either of them... so I guess that is somehow a win for Steve? (Really not sure about that)
4. It has made me rethink date rape and all I can think about is the awesome Oscar Wilde quote, "Everything is about sex, except sex. Sex is about power." The thing I talk to my Str8 male friends about, "Have you ever worried about being over-powered and forced to have sex against your will?" The answer is always an incredulous, "Of course not." 

My response? "Well, most women have had that worry so consider yourself lucky." 

*****

Today I watched a movie (recommended to me a decade ago)... It's not a great movie so I won't recommend it.. you can pick it up at 1 hour and 3 minute mark. All you need to know is that the protagonist (the guy with dark hair) is a Str8 hustler willing to have sex with any man so long as the money is right. Then he meets a guy who simply wants to kiss him... and that's how the rest of the movie plays out... and for me... with my background... made the movie fascinating.