The 100 Guy

What will families remember from this pandemic pause? Tension? Peacefulness? Will a predicted baby boom be confined, as young parents jest, to firstborn?

When people gather to watch a beautiful sunrise or sunset, they often grow silent, watching the miracle respectfully as another day is dedicated.

Americans have been divided for much of our history. (See the election of 1800.) Today, with social media and tribal cable channels, it might appear a bit more acute.

In my 20s, when I was put in charge of a 25-person marketing team spread over two floors at The Charlotte Observer, I observed our biggest weakness was communications. Ironic, since we were in that business.

For three years, I’ve written the same words on Airbnb’s reservation field that says “tell your host why you’re in town.”

I hadn’t seen a $2 bill for years when I noticed schoolmate Rip Black tipping with them. Having loved them since attending its 1976 re-introduction, I adopted Rip’s paean to Mr. Jefferson, tipping with them since. I gave one to an Uber driver recently – he stared at it, announcing, “This one’s going in the wallet!”

Leveraging off The 100 Companies’ success in 20 geographical markets from Denali to Dubai and our launch of The Travel 100, our publishing network expanded last month into a second industry vertical: The Association 100.

Charlotte toddler Annie was watching “Sesame Street” late December when her mom, Amanda, thought she heard Grover say the “F” word. Annie’s dad (my son Thomas) replayed the segment, agreed it was debatable, posted it to Reddit, launching a top listing, 124,000 views, 3,400 comments and an international sensation.

Last week I led a crisis training for a nonprofit leadership team. It’s my favorite activity in public relations.

I was a few steps ahead of my son Thomas and his daughter Annie, nearly 20 months old, when we visited the mall weeks ago. I instinctively snapped a quick photo and posted it on Facebook.

In the March 1980 Republican primaries, George Bush had already lost what he called his “Big Mo” to Ronald Reagan. He bounded off his campaign plane in conservative Augusta, Georgia, for another obligatory meeting with local reporters.