“That Was a Wake Up Call” Optimism Bias and Death

In five months I will be 61 years old.  Each year I am alive I am more likely to hear the phrase “That Was a Wake Up Call” from someone I know, either about themselves or someone they hold dear. 

I don’t know who will say it, or the exact reason, but the person who says it will be the only one surprised about the heart attack, stroke, or other near-death experience that lead to the comment.

In November of last year, I went to a business lunch at the Yale Club in New York.  The speaker was the CEO of a billion-dollar chemical company.  His topic was how he led his company to grow nearly double in size during the preceding five years, the worst recession in the last 80 years. 

This genial, affable man spoke easily about encouraging the previous management team to “seek new opportunities.”  In a near quote of Mitt Romney, he said a couple of those people thanked him when they found better work.  He closed plants, moved production to countries with “more attractive work environments” and did what managers do to succeed in a global market.

When he talked about the key moves he made on the road to success, important hires, deals closed, these events occurred during dinners at expensive restaurants.  “Get him to dinner and I’ll close the deal,” he said with a smile about one important acquisition.  He looked the part.  Five feet, nine inches tall, a tailored suit draped over a mid-section created by many dinners and missed gym workouts.

While he spoke, I looked up his bio on the web.  He is 66 years old. Toward the end of the talk he said he planned to lead the company for two or three more years to complete plans he had then retire. 

Won’t that be fun.

Let me hazard a guess that the successful CEO currently takes a dozen prescription medicines to stave off the effects of eating too much and exercising too little—or simply of being too short for your weight.  By age 69 or 70, Mr. Success will be on more medication.  He will suddenly lose the adrenaline rush of leading a successful company. 

If he survives the heart attack, stroke, or other health catastrophe he will tell his family and friends “That Was a Wake Up Call.” 

Really???  A wake up call?  So for 40 years you overate watched your toes disappear in the shower, moved to the next waist size in you suit pants every three years, and the heart attack is a wake up call?  Were you in a coma?

It turns out that most humans have a view known in psychology as Optimism Bias.  Even when we understand risk, we think it will happen to everyone but us.  In this case, the CEO, if he took a survey, would rate the likelihood that a fit person his age would have a heart attack at something less than 20%.  He would rate the likelihood for someone with his height, weight and exercise pattern as 70+ % likely to have a heart attack.  But he would rate HIS OWN likelihood of having a heart attack as roughly the same as the healthy man his age.

We all do it.  College students who drink think those who drink to excess are more likely to be robbed, assaulted, flunk courses etc.  They think non-drinking students have little danger.  If they themselves are binge drinkers, they rate their own danger as similar to non-drinkers. 

Mr. CEO will very likely have a near-death experience within a year after he retires, if not before.  “That Was a Wake Up Call” will be what he says.  He will say it because Optimism Bias has lulled the otherwise hard-nosed man who can close a factory with no regret into a sunshine and rainbows view of his own health.

Many of the soldiers I serve with are already on the path to their own Wake Up Call.  Some are in their 20s, flunking the fitness test, overweight and building up to a sad later life.  And at 60 years old, 60 pounds overweight and 60 beers a week, that heart attack will be a shock. 

I smoked a pack a day for more than 15 years.  I stopped at 33 years old and haven’t smoked since.  One thing that helped me to stop though not immediately was writing obituaries.  Back in the 80s when more than a third of adult males smoked, obituaries of men came across my desk in two groups:  non-smokers died between 75 and 85 of various diseases, smokers died between ages 57 and 63 of heart attacks and lung cancer.  After a year of obituaries, I lost my Optimism Bias.

More Christmas Hats from Iraq 2009

I'll keep posting these pictures from the 2009-10 deployment.

Jesse Kline

Aaron Trimmer

Ashley Soulsby

Rashine Brunner

Timothy Huss

Huss and Brunner

 Mike Dolinsky

Mike Dolinsky

More Christmas 2009 in Iraq

Another group of Christmas pictures:

 Jonathan Marak

 Brian Marquardt

 Brett Feddersen

 Scott Perry

Laura Miltenberger

Christmas in Iraq 2009

Posting some photos from Christmas in Iraq, 2009

 Jeremy Houck

Dan Lake

Dan and Jeremy

Glen Valencia

Kimberly Stekovich and Andrea Magee

Kimberly Stekovich and Andrea Magee

44th Anniversary of My Driver's License!

On December 19th, 1969, I got my driver's license after taking the test at the Metropolitan District Commission office in Woburn, Mass., the next town over from Stoneham, where I grew up.

Getting my license was the best thing that happened in my life up to the moment.  I was obsessed with cars and all things with engines.  I still am obsessed with wheels, but am more crazed with bicycles than cars and motorcycles.

When we drove down the highway on family trips, I was counting the wheels on trucks passing in the other direction.  On the trips in New York state I could count the wheels on double-trailer rigs that had up to 34 wheels and tires.

My Dad was a warehouseman and drove occasionally when the grocery company where he worked was short of drivers.  Dad did not try to make me obsessed with cars and trucks, but his actions had that effect.  He worked six days a week and fell asleep watching football every Sunday afternoon.

The times we spent together were always a drive.  He did the grocery shopping and I went along. Sometimes in the evening he would say, "Let's go for coffee."  We would drive to Howard Johnson's or a diner he liked.  Dad would tell jokes to the waitresses and the customers.  I learned that coffee and jokes were the best part of life.  (Health note:  I drank hot chocolate.)

But the day my father made me completely car/truck crazy was in 1961.  I was in Miss Bovernick's 3rd Grade Class at Robin Hood Elementary School.  Dad knew which class was mine.  The windows in our class faced the semi-circular driveway in front of the school.

Dad was taking a load of frozen food to New Hampshire on a Friday afternoon in the Spring.  He stopped on the way to pick me up at school after lunch.  He parked the 40-foot semi with a bright red Mack B-61 tractor right in the driver.  The idling diesel engine rattled the windows.  The whole class ran to the windows to see the truck.

My Dad walked in class and asked Miss Bovernick is he could take me out of school early.  Third grade doesn't get any better than leaving school early to ride to New Hampshire in a bright red Mack truck.

If you want to get a little boy crazed over cars and trucks, that's the way to do it.

I joined the Teamster's Union and worked in the warehouse after graduation, but never became a truck driver.  Though I did drive a lot of diesel vehicles in the Army.

Photos From Drill Weekend

Frozen flight line

Cold in Johnstown

Inside a Chinook on the flight to Johnstown

On the Chinook

The walk back to the hangar

Lunch in Johnstown

Lead, Follow or Get Out of the Way!!

Sometimes I wonder, 'Why did I re-enlist at my age?'
Or 'What am I doing in the Army at 60?'

Then I get a chance to do something that only a soldier would think is awesome and then I think, 'I re-enlisted because I love this shit!'

On Saturday, the boys and I gave one of my friends a ride to the Philadelphia airport.  We were in Philadelphia so it should have been a 15-minute trip.  No problem.

We got on I-95 and drove quickly past the stadiums.  I looked ahead at the long approach to the bridge over the Delaware.

We had just passed the last exit on this side of the Delaware River and all the traffic was stopped.  I was in the left lane.  It was a clear day.  I could see a mile ahead.  Just before the bridge itself all four lanes of traffic were stopped.

Nothing was moving and traffic was stacking up.  Within seconds we came to a stop.  I looked up the road at nearly a thousand cars four lanes wide.  And I got angry.  I knew at least one lane could get through no matter how bad the accident was.

I stopped the car and asked my passenger to get in the drivers seat.  I happened to be wearing running shoes, so I took off running fast along the left side of the road past all the stopped cars to the accident site.  Three cars were wrecked and twisted.  The left lane was clear.  A guy standing there was half-heartedly waving cars through.

I told him I am in the Army and can handle this.  He went back to help with the accident.

I pointed at the first car in line, waved my arm and put my whole body into the motion.  He moved, fast.  Next car followed.  I kept waving.  Third car the driver's eyes wandered to the accident.  I pointed straight at him and waved to get moving.  If his windows were down he might have heard me yell encouragement using short words with CK sounds.

I kept wave, the cars started merging and moving.  When anyone started gawking, I moved toward the car and waved to get moving.  One guy slowed.  His passenger rolled down the window and started video recording.  I stood between him and the scene and told him to keep moving in a way that indicated his IQ was lower than a bag of ball peen hammers.

It was so much fun.  Less than 10 minutes later, my car was passing the accident site.  I jumped in and we took off.

Thanksgiving weekend was a lot of fun in many ways, but that ten minutes on the approach to the bridge showed me why I should be a soldier.  I'm too old to be a cop.

Sunset at Muir Field, Fort Indiantown Gap

More Post-Flight Photos from Drill Weekend

Pre-Flight and Post-Flight Maintenance on a Blackhawk and an Apache

Back at Drill at 28th Combat Aviation--So Happy to be Back!

Went to drill this weekend just a week and a half after leaving Fort Meade.  So nice to be back at my unit!  I did not get up until 5:50 a.m. for drill!  Almost Noon compared to the student company at Fort Meade.

I missed the morning sling load mission and today's mission got cancelled for fog.  But I still got some good shots of the crews returning on Saturday and doing some drills on the airstrip on Sunday.