DRDoubleYou

More Notes From an E-Mail Conversation With Someone Who Doesn't Read

"Home is where your heart is..."

"Life is what you make it..."

"The day you stop wondering is the day you stop wandering..."

But what does it all mean?

Not everyone sets roots. I have always been envious of the people who've lived
in several countries, packing up their minimalist belongings and traveling the
globe searching for something to light their soul on fire. I have never been
that type, though.

I remember leaving for college - leaving my girlfriend and family back home 2
hours away. I didn't know anyone... I was cast into an unfamiliar world - and I
actually opted NOT to live with a guy I knew from college... I didn't want to be
stuck in high school for my life - especially my new life in COLLEGE!

It didn't take long to make friends on the floor of the dorm. In fact, 3 of the
friends I met in the first week or two at Appalachian State were in my wedding.
A strange fortune of friendships in such a small place - like a friendship Fort
Knox! I assume that is why I hold that place so dear in my heart.

Still - I have always been about my roots. I grew up in the south. I was (and
still am) proud of that. Everyone has select things that they allow to define
themselves - that's one of mine.

But - as you take these personal definitions with you through life, do they get
muttled? Lost? Do they lose value ... To you OR to the people around you? For
that matter - with such a transient nature now where people are encouraged to
relocated cross-country and further, is culture or "roots" still important?

A part of me could argue that we hold on to our roots (place of origin, etc) for
selfish reasons. Everyone wants to be from somewhere. Kind of like "if you
aren't somebody, you're nobody". I also think some heritages are more
predisposed to hold on to their roots. Example - everyone is Irish on St.
Patrick's Day. But, 365 days a year, immigrants from all countries speak their
native languages and migrate to areas traditionally occupied by people of
similar decent. This helps keep that identity that I think most domestic
relocators lose in their transition.

I am not saying that Italian-Americans are better or worse than
Mexican-Americans. I am not even claiming that a first generation immigrant from
Morocco is more tied to their heritage than a direct descendant of the first
settlers. My point is that the value of culture, roots, heritage, and "home" is
getting jaded and lost in today's world.

I could ask 100 people where "Home" is, and I could easily get 100 different
types of answers... Here are a few I could give:

Ireland (my mother's grandfather came over from County Cork)
England (my family name is English)
Charlotte, NC (where I was born and raised)
Columbus, OH (the metro area where I live)
Powell, OH (the town where my house resides)
242 Tyler Creek Ct (my street address)
My Car (I spend a ton of time driving)
My mind (I think too much)

The list goes on and on. And - I haven't lived that many places, nor have I
started raising children anywhere or investigated my German heritage... Where is
home?

Well...

I guess maybe it's everywhere. And, if you miss "home", what do you miss? Is it
YOU that you miss? The comfort of being somewhere familiar? So - does that are
it selfish to miss home? No - probably not.

It just means...

Home is where the heart is...

-D-

David R. Wooley
Category Manager
Anheuser-Busch
704-451-1143 (C)
314-445-3575 (F)

I used to travel 4-5 days a week. Up at the crack of PRE-DAWN and bed time
around 930 or 10, I missed many good Monday Night Football games - and even some
birthdays, family outings at the beach, and a relationship or two. It was not
always fun, but I have now been promoted out of that life.

As I look back on those years where I traveled 47 of 52 weeks, I think of the
tremendous personal stress, the "windshield time", and the countless hours with
noone but myself. Literally hundreds of nights spent at a variety of Hilton
properties (sometimes staying 30 miles away from my early-morning destination
just to gain points). I look back at all of these things... And a client that
rarely realized the effort being put forth on his behalf. A thankless
position... A winless battle of time and place... And... I wouldn't have missed
it for the world.

Before traveling for a living, I was mired behind a desk. I appreciated my place
in life, but I couldn't see myself as a desk jockey for my entire career. I
always said I wanted to see some of the world - I felt there was way too much I
hadn't seen for me to be in a window-less wasteland.

I was afraid of myself - I hadn't been alone... On my own... Since I started
dating my high school girlfriend. So, naturally, there was some hesitation
behind taking the reigns and predicting my own future. A company put their
confidence in me to get the job done - why not take a page out of their playbook
and have that confidence in myself.
For 2 solid years, I drove 50,000 plus miles a year for business. I became the
face of my company - and my retailer - in dozens of markets, and hundreds of
stores.

More importantly, looking out the windshield for sometimes 6-8 hours a day (even
after a day of hard work), I found something I never expected to find... The
real me.

My first trip on my own, I went to eat dinner at Ruby Tuesday's. I had to be
awake at 5:30 am. I went to dinner at 6 pm or so. I asked for a table for one.
Sitting down, I ordered a Bud Light - this was my first eye-opening
experience... No beer sales on Sundays in South Carolina. I had my chicken pasta
and I was gone. A very non-social and timid meal. No one to talk to, and I had
no idea what to expect for my next day, week, year(s) of work. I think that was
the last time I sat alone.

I found I wasn't the first person to travel for a living. There are
opportunities for socialization... Friends to be made... Joys to be had - just
don't be afraid to say "hello" to the other person at the bar.

Texas Hold 'Em Tournament in the hills of Georgia? Played in it - came in 2nd...
Alone. Snowy Norton, VA with nothing to do? I met the servers out for a drink
afterwards... Alone. Keno at and the Coca-Cola museum in Atlanta - did it and
LOVED it... Alone. Passing the quarter-million mile mark on my Nissan Maxima -
did it... Alone.

I can't pretend to remember the every mile I put on my car, every face I met, or
every hour I spent NOT sleeping so I could finish a forgettable conversation.
But, as my career has started to morph into something I love more than the day
before, I still look back fondly. And what I find the strangest part: one of my
favorite parts: doing it alone.

Now, when I travel, there is traditionally a travel partner or a group waiting
at the destination. I suppose that's the price for promotion - higher-profile
requires more attendance!

I know it makes me seem like less of a team player, but I enjoy being in charge.
It's a strange feeling sharing the itinerary. When we leave the hotel... Flight
times... The radio station... Dinner... Everything is a split decision. I
usually enjoy teammates - but I got so used to traveling solo, it will always be
a challenge. A welcome change.

But there will never be anything greater when on the road to the feeling of
coming home - and even as home has moved, the feeling of coming home is still
wonderful.

As Christmas nears, the meaning of "home" has begun to take on new form. I
caught myself saying I was going "home" for Christmas. Home, I suppose, is less
of where the heart is and more of what the heart needs.

A few nights back "Home" and I will surely miss my new "home" - and the cycle
will slowly progress towards long-term change. Christmas is - and always has
been - my favorite time of year. This one will be especially different. But...
Just like the way I travel now, there is a silver lining to all the changes. We
just have to embrace them and move with them.

Still... I can't wait to go home...

-D-

David R. Wooley
Category Manager
Anheuser-Busch
704-451-1143 (C)
314-445-3575 (F)

Notes From an E-Mail Conversation With Someone Who Doesn't Read

What Moving Means

"Home is where your heart is..."

"Life is what you make it..."

"The day you stop wondering is the day you stop wandering..."

But what does it all mean?

Not everyone sets roots. I have always been envious of the people who've lived
in several countries, packing up their minimalist belongings and traveling the
globe searching for something to light their soul on fire. I have never been
that type, though.

I remember leaving for college - leaving my girlfriend and family back home 2
hours away. I didn't know anyone... I was cast into an unfamiliar world - and I
actually opted NOT to live with a guy I knew from college... I didn't want to be
stuck in high school for my life - especially my new life in COLLEGE!

It didn't take long to make friends on the floor of the dorm. In fact, 3 of the
friends I met in the first week or two at Appalachian State were in my wedding.
A strange fortune of friendships in such a small place - like a friendship Fort
Knox! I assume that is why I hold that place so dear in my heart.

Still - I have always been about my roots. I grew up in the south. I was (and
still am) proud of that. Everyone has select things that they allow to define
themselves - that's one of mine.

But - as you take these personal definitions with you through life, do they get
muttled? Lost? Do they lose value ... To you OR to the people around you? For
that matter - with such a transient nature now where people are encouraged to
relocated cross-country and further, is culture or "roots" still important?

A part of me could argue that we hold on to our roots (place of origin, etc) for
selfish reasons. Everyone wants to be from somewhere. Kind of like "if you
aren't somebody, you're nobody". I also think some heritages are more
predisposed to hold on to their roots. Example - everyone is Irish on St.
Patrick's Day. But, 365 days a year, immigrants from all countries speak their
native languages and migrate to areas traditionally occupied by people of
similar decent. This helps keep that identity that I think most domestic
relocators lose in their transition.

I am not saying that Italian-Americans are better or worse than
Mexican-Americans. I am not even claiming that a first generation immigrant from
Morocco is more tied to their heritage than a direct descendant of the first
settlers. My point is that the value of culture, roots, heritage, and "home" is
getting jaded and lost in today's world.

I could ask 100 people where "Home" is, and I could easily get 100 different
types of answers... Here are a few I could give:

Ireland (my mother's grandfather came over from County Cork)
England (my family name is English)
Charlotte, NC (where I was born and raised)
Columbus, OH (the metro area where I live)
Powell, OH (the town where my house resides)
242 Tyler Creek Ct (my street address)
My Car (I spend a ton of time driving)
My mind (I think too much)

The list goes on and on. And - I haven't lived that many places, nor have I
started raising children anywhere or investigated my German heritage... Where is
home?

Well...

I guess maybe it's everywhere. And, if you miss "home", what do you miss? Is it
YOU that you miss? The comfort of being somewhere familiar? So - does that are
it selfish to miss home? No - probably not.

It just means...

Home is where the heart is...

-D-

David R. Wooley
Category Manager
Anheuser-Busch
704-451-1143 (C)
314-445-3575 (F)

Life On The Road

I used to travel 4-5 days a week. Up at the crack of PRE-DAWN and bed time
around 930 or 10, I missed many good Monday Night Football games - and even some
birthdays, family outings at the beach, and a relationship or two. It was not
always fun, but I have now been promoted out of that life.

As I look back on those years where I traveled 47 of 52 weeks, I think of the
tremendous personal stress, the "windshield time", and the countless hours with
noone but myself. Literally hundreds of nights spent at a variety of Hilton
properties (sometimes staying 30 miles away from my early-morning destination
just to gain points). I look back at all of these things... And a client that
rarely realized the effort being put forth on his behalf. A thankless
position... A winless battle of time and place... And... I wouldn't have missed
it for the world.

Before traveling for a living, I was mired behind a desk. I appreciated my place
in life, but I couldn't see myself as a desk jockey for my entire career. I
always said I wanted to see some of the world - I felt there was way too much I
hadn't seen for me to be in a window-less wasteland.

I was afraid of myself - I hadn't been alone... On my own... Since I started
dating my high school girlfriend. So, naturally, there was some hesitation
behind taking the reigns and predicting my own future. A company put their
confidence in me to get the job done - why not take a page out of their playbook
and have that confidence in myself.
For 2 solid years, I drove 50,000 plus miles a year for business. I became the
face of my company - and my retailer - in dozens of markets, and hundreds of
stores.

More importantly, looking out the windshield for sometimes 6-8 hours a day (even
after a day of hard work), I found something I never expected to find... The
real me.

My first trip on my own, I went to eat dinner at Ruby Tuesday's. I had to be
awake at 5:30 am. I went to dinner at 6 pm or so. I asked for a table for one.
Sitting down, I ordered a Bud Light - this was my first eye-opening
experience... No beer sales on Sundays in South Carolina. I had my chicken pasta
and I was gone. A very non-social and timid meal. No one to talk to, and I had
no idea what to expect for my next day, week, year(s) of work. I think that was
the last time I sat alone.

I found I wasn't the first person to travel for a living. There are
opportunities for socialization... Friends to be made... Joys to be had - just
don't be afraid to say "hello" to the other person at the bar.

Texas Hold 'Em Tournament in the hills of Georgia? Played in it - came in 2nd...
Alone. Snowy Norton, VA with nothing to do? I met the servers out for a drink
afterwards... Alone. Keno at and the Coca-Cola museum in Atlanta - did it and
LOVED it... Alone. Passing the quarter-million mile mark on my Nissan Maxima -
did it... Alone.

I can't pretend to remember the every mile I put on my car, every face I met, or
every hour I spent NOT sleeping so I could finish a forgettable conversation.
But, as my career has started to morph into something I love more than the day
before, I still look back fondly. And what I find the strangest part: one of my
favorite parts: doing it alone.

Now, when I travel, there is traditionally a travel partner or a group waiting
at the destination. I suppose that's the price for promotion - higher-profile
requires more attendance!

I know it makes me seem like less of a team player, but I enjoy being in charge.
It's a strange feeling sharing the itinerary. When we leave the hotel... Flight
times... The radio station... Dinner... Everything is a split decision. I
usually enjoy teammates - but I got so used to traveling solo, it will always be
a challenge. A welcome change.

But there will never be anything greater when on the road to the feeling of
coming home - and even as home has moved, the feeling of coming home is still
wonderful.

As Christmas nears, the meaning of "home" has begun to take on new form. I
caught myself saying I was going "home" for Christmas. Home, I suppose, is less
of where the heart is and more of what the heart needs.

A few nights back "Home" and I will surely miss my new "home" - and the cycle
will slowly progress towards long-term change. Christmas is - and always has
been - my favorite time of year. This one will be especially different. But...
Just like the way I travel now, there is a silver lining to all the changes. We
just have to embrace them and move with them.

Still... I can't wait to go home...

-D-

David R. Wooley
Category Manager
Anheuser-Busch
704-451-1143 (C)
314-445-3575 (F)