Note to my readers: Many of you know that my daughter (Dr. Samantha Nix) has sent me several questions for me to answer for her, her siblings and my grandchildren. This is just one more of those questions that I felt deserved to be published here.
To make a long story short … My childhood bedroom was half clean and organized and half a mess and disorganized. I say it was this way because most of my childhood (into my teenage years) I shared a bedroom with my little brother, Ed.
Ed, always was the clean one of those damned “Nix Boys.” He had everything in a certain place and a certain place for everything. As for me – I was a mess – Pure and Simple.
I remember when we had bunk beds, I always wanted the bottom bed. Not because I was afraid of heights … but rather because I could hide my mess under the bed and the room would look clean. Ed soon made sure mom and dad was aware of my madness.
As we grew older and the apartment grew larger and Sandi moved out of the house, we were able to have our own bedrooms. If you walked into Ed’s room you would find it orderly and clean. If you walked into mine you would think you have followed a tornado into the room. My bed was always unmade, my clothes were all over the floor and books and musical instruments were just strewn wherever I could find a landing place for them. Mom used to get so mad because I would not even put my dirty clothes in the clothes hamper so she could wash them … and Ed preferred to wash his own. And I used to ask Ed why the heck he made his bed every morning just to get back in it and mess it up every night. It made no sense to me.
Then I went into the Military … and they forced me to keep a clean room, or surroundings, in the barracks. If my bed was a mess the entire company was punished … and if the entire company was punished, I stood a chance of being the victim of a “blanket party.”
I did not need one of these. I learned to keep clean surroundings and make a bed so tight you could drop a quarter on it and it would bounce.
When I got out of the military and got married … I once again took up my messy ways. I was fortunate to have married a woman that would not complain a lot about my messiness as long as I kept the bills paid and the family fed. She’s an angel God sent to me.
As a child growing up in my house you know that what I am saying is true … and you also know that my office has always look a mess and in disarray as well.
I once had a boss by the name of Vince Enright. He reminded me so much of my brother. He was so Damn Clean. You could walk into his office and all you would see on his desk would be whatever he was working on at the time plus a calendar/clock and a pen in a holder.
When Vince would come to my office to do a compliance inspection, he would always gig me on the untidiness of my office and my desk. He would always preach to me about how Dwight David Eisenhower (our 34th President) was so clean and how I should learn to be more like him since my middle name was Dwight. He would talk about how I could walk into his office any time and find everything in place. It was true … if he was not in the office the only thing on the desk was that damned Calendar/Clock and Pen in the Pen Holder.
Vince would tell me, “A cluttered desk and office is the sign of a cluttered mind and investors cannot be expected to trust someone with a cluttered mind.”
I would retort to him, “Well, an empty desk is the sign of an empty mind and I cannot trust a leader with an empty mind.”
So now my dear … you know why Dad is such a mess and you can probably imagine what my bedroom looked like. While I can’t show you my bedroom as it was when I was a child, you can look at my office today as I write this: