For most of us, bald or otherwise, happiness comes in very small moments throughout our day. Perhaps that’s why as a designer I am driven to create as many more as possible.

But for a brand, does delivering a ‘moment of happiness’ have any real value? Let’s think about it. We could probably divide our days into 3 kinds of moments -  moments of happiness (a really good cappuccino, listening to your iPod), moments of necessary evil (laundry), and finally, moments you really hate (calling customer service). Which of those 3 are you most willing to part with your money for? Which would you evangelize to your friends? Which would you accept a new idea from, almost without pause? Those characteristics would appear extremely desirable for any brand.

It’s a very simple tenet. But I urge you to ask yourself, of those 3 possibilities (happiness, necessary evil, or hated) what will this thing we’re creating be?

So far on this blog, I have been slow to share the ‘moments of happiness’ I have been fortunate to contribute over the years. But today, with a tiny little fanfare ( and probably copious typos) I share with you a mostly visual archive of some of those moments. www.dadabrooklyn.com. I hope in itself, it is a moment of happiness!

Sunday August 1st – today is the last stage – truly the ‘ultimate’ stage –  the day we’ve been waiting for. The day that has been haunting us. The question on everyone’s lips -would we have anything left for the assault on the Devil’s kitchen, a climb so steep, that the previous day it had been closed as medical crews with helicopters had try to recover a fallen hiker.

But before the Devil’s Kitchen, we had another 40 miles of racing, including another mountain top to conquer. Well, if the peleton didn’t know the ‘Depot’ before hand…. it did now. Although 4 riders had broken away, there were still 1 precious pointavailable in the ‘King of the Mountains’ competition (the one I had been dreaming of). So Peter and I attacked the group with perhaps 1k to go before the summit. And as we left the field behind and crossed the line together, Peter touched his brakes allowing me to take the point. I am close to tears writing this, because that allowed me 9th in the overall King of the Mountains competition – truly a childhood dream come true, and only because of Peter’s sacrifice.

As the race continued and the heat turned up, literally and figuratively we approached the feed station. Utter calamity ensued, with riders crashing, dropping bottles and screaming desperately for sustenance (Danny and Jose hadn’t managed to coach everyone obviously). But at the far end, their calm voices called to Peter and I, giving us our final fuel before the Devil’s Kitchen. We later learned that Danny, Maria and Jose had collected bottles and had given water to the less fortunate riders – wow.

On finally to the Devil’s Kitchen. It was indeed tough – 2 miles of hell is a fair description. Fortunately for Peter and I, it was tougher still for most everyone else. As Peter and I passed the Yellow Jersey, we heard a desperate scream, as he literally stopped to get off and walk,  knowing now there was no chance of overall victory.

As we crested the mountain, we made haste to chase down an earlier breakaway catching all but a few leaders. As we saw the finishing banner I did my best to lead Peter out into a sprint at the line. Peter snatched a redeeming 10th place in the stage, with a herculean effort. I was glad to cross in 15th.

Final results for the 2010 Tour of the Catskills: Peter – 22nd, Jeremy 16th (3 mins 45 seconds down on the winner, after 5 hours 17 minutes of racing, over 3 days). And although I claimed 9th in the King of the Mountain competition, it should be Peters. Team Depot – Jose, Danny, Maria, Peter and Jeremy had a truly wonderful weekend together, and celebrating fully, with beer, food and family.

And while not all may agree… as the author I am getting the last word …. to God goes all the Glory.

Saturday, July 31st  - today in the first Mountain stage, Peter narrowly escaped crashing when both tires blew out simultaneously. When the wheel van couldn’t find his wheel, giving him wheels incompatible with his bike, it looked like Peter’s race would surely be over, as he dropped some 30 or 40 minutes behind the pace. But Peter dug deep, way deep, riding what he later described as “the ride of his life”. He teamed up with the Yellow Jersey rider who had also flatted, and by the end of the day had only conceded 8 minutes overall.

Further up the road, the big mountain was thinning the peloton to about 20 riders, who were pulling away. Somehow I felt great and was comfortably in the group. Then calamity befell us too. A group of spooked horses were across our path. We stopped, but not before one racer was knocked into the bushes by a rampaging stallion, and another was knocked down and narrowly missed it’s stomping hoofs as it reared up. All racers were relatively unharmed. However, 5 riders had continued riding, grabbing a contentious time gap on the rest of us. The race official had missed the incident.

However, we worked hard, and that day I claimed 12th place – 1.18 behind the sneaky getaway, moving me up into 20th position overall in the race. And Peters incredible efforts to recover time put him into 35th place – still in the top half of the field.

But I haven’t mentioned Maria, Danny and Jose, who literally taught the other spectators ‘how to hand over water to the riders’, ‘how to chalk the names of your riders on the road’, and how to scream support, like your riders life depended on it ( I think mine did).

And then, that evening our beloved support crew created a feast worthy of champions… but we ate it anyway!
I also need to point out all Maria’s ‘hanging out of the car window –  hold my legs hunny’ photography, like this one, as I lead the charge back down the mountain through the hairpin bends, desperately trying to reclaim the breakaways advantage. (She really has hanging out of a car at 50MPH).

The first day of serious climbing – 51 miles, 5000 feet. Fireworks, dancing and drama. But we’re saying nothing until the official results are published. Watch this space.

Fortunately, we picked up the team chef and nutritionist Jose, from the bus station this evening. Here’s Jose and Peter discussing the most opportune moments for Jose to serve us assorted tapas, and rioja on tomorrow’s stage.

This evening Peter and I found our way to New Paltz BMX track. Absolutely brilliant – what else is a 4-17 year old going to do on a Thursday night (with Dad in tow). Yehaah!

Peter hangin’ with the Pros (below)

All stand for the national anthem….(below)

Maybe it’s a ‘pipe dream’, but Peter is after yellow, I am after polka-dots. If we get the jerseys, we get to wear the matching helmets. Lets hope.

(if this means zip to you… yellow is worn by the race leader, the polka-dot is worn by the best climber. We all have our dreams – the polka dot jersey has been mine from childhood).

24 hours until the race begins.

300 hours of training –  equivalent to watching the last 2 and a half years of  ’Young and the Restless’.

5000 miles covered – equivalent to driving to the moon (probably).

1 week of vitamins Peter assures me are legal.

On Friday, around 2pm the Tour of the Catskills commences. This Tour, unlike the French one is but 3 days long. Day 1 is a time trial, where one scorches ones lungs for about 3 miles racing nothing but the clock, and the expiration date on your cardio-vascular system. Day 2 and 3 consist of about as many torturous hills as one can squeeze into 105 miles (50+ each day). The final climb of the final day, after about 100 miles is rather modestly called the Devils Kitchen – a hill so steep Pro riders in the 70′s got off and walked.

Join me and my team mate Peter while we sauté our lungs and toast our skinny legs en route to the Devil’s Kitchen.

For the most part we are conscious of what we input into our output. I am sure if you are creating something today, you will consciously use a firm but friendly tone, probably starting with a chirpy “hi”, before getting to the ‘business at hand’. If you are redirecting a business, or guiding a team you will be fairly certain of your input. But is there non-conscious input? Influences ‘of the moment’ that will be etched into your creation, like the grooves on a vinyl recording, that may go undetected?

I remember once during a pottery class at prep school, working a vase on a wheel (It’s funny, as I write I see why ‘clay’ is such a commonly used material for metaphor). My teacher told me to focus my attention on my left hand, because my right hand was naturally asserting more influence. I obviously was not aware of that, nor was I aware of the minute grooves a callused hand was causing. But if I were to return to that vase, could I unpack my non-conscious input? Was I joyous? Was I nervous? Was I optimistic? Whatever I was, in some way it left it’s mark.

Revisit something you’ve created, maybe years back, and replay it like a vinyl recording, listening to what is under the music, and imagine what did leave those hardly detectable grooves. Perhaps it doesn’t matter anymore. Except that it could train us listen to our output, at a very different level.

May I suggest, if you enjoy this sort of thing, that today you pick someone else’s creation – a building or an object, and feel for the residual grooves – the mental calluses and influences, that made it personal.