Brian Cain
A few years ago I was climbing the summit of Kilimanjaro when I came to a rocky outcropping that contained a single flower blooming in the late afternoon sun. I spent the next 4 hours sitting there among the snowmelt, watching that bloom struggle for life at 12,000 feet. Finally my climbing partners abandoned me and I was forced to complete the ascent alone.
And that little story really sums up the way I’ve approached life. Always taking the difficult route, stopping to see the beauty and then forging my own path through the wilderness.
I started in the early 70’s, as a child model for the Sear’s catalog, happily carving a niche as the go-to toy gun poser. Sadly my time there ended when I pressed for unionization of the other child models. My mother still keeps my crayon scrawled manifesto framed on the wall.
Undaunted I continued onward, finding a modicum of success as a teen working for a moody young adult named Bill Gates who lived nearby our California home. I can still recall the smell of the cooking sand I brought from the beach as Bill used his homemade furnace to smelt it into crude microprocessors for his “experiments.”
My first real job as an adult was towel boy for the 80’s band “Sique Sique Sputnik.” But the strain of working for a hard-working, hard-sweating rock and roll band really got to me and I was forced to drop out midway through their historic concert at Shea Stadium.
After that I drifted from job to job, never setting down roots. In the 90’s I worked as a tennis instructor, cruise boat guidance counselor, and life coach for actress Sean Young. My biggest success was as the author of the popular murder mystery play “Who Shit In My Bed?” A powerful work which continues to be run to this day at the William Epstein Theater in Omaha. I highly recommend the Sunday half price matinee performance.
Now I find myself in the next stage of my life, working as the creative director for Campfire. I’ve devoted myself to bringing all my life lessons to help make this company be all it can be. In it I finally feel I’ve found my calling. My true life’s work lies ahead, shrouded in the mist of a hazy future I like to call “dream weaving.”
