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Last weekend was very special. I accepted an invitation to crew on a sailboat in a local benefit regatta. The boat’s owner spent the last four years restoring this antique daysailer, originally built in 1947, and it’s now looking even better than it did when it first rolled out of the boatyard. I hadn’t raced in nearly 40 years, but was honored to have been asked. The boat is the same class as mine and as I am quite familiar with it, it wasn’t a random invitation. I went into this event and (I am happy to say) came out of it with the mindset that “it’s all about the boat” and determined not to let the racing get in the way of enjoying it. This beautiful boat did garner its share of “gawkers” as my skipper proudly referred to them, and they, too, had a genuine interest in her story. (PLEASE CLICK ON THE TITLE ABOVE TO CONTINUE READING.)

Last year my wife and I had the great good fortune to visit Charleston, South Carolina, a city rich in history, architectural treasures, and culinary delights. If you haven’t been there, it’s certainly worth a visit; if you have, then perhaps it’s time to go again; if you live there, ahhh, enjoy it! (PLEASE CLICK ON THE TITLE ABOVE TO CONTINUE READING.)

On Friday morning, December 14th, 2012 the sun poked its warm fingers around the edge of the horizon and began gently and slowly lifting the lid of darkness, as it has done each day for millions of years. This day would be different. Darkness would not fully lift, but instead grow blacker; a shaft of emptiness hovering over a tiny town in Connecticut called Newtown. It could have been Anytown, USA. In its bucolic New England setting, dressed for the holiday season, revered by its residents, and with the faces of its children shining with genuine joy and anticipation, it is Everytown, USA. On that morning, with all the senseless and unconscionable loss suffered, I am afraid humanity also suffered the shattering loss of innocence. (PLEASE CLICK ON THE TITLE ABOVE TO CONTINUE READING.)

My wife recently asked that I send an email on her behalf and provided the address. When I noticed it contained twisted spelling, I asked if it was a hybrid version of “gallant lady”. While waiting for a reply, I went online and googled it. It seems Gallant Lady is a popular name for yachts and race horses, a movie from the 40’s and various lines from selected poems. Noble as they may be, none of them capture the heart or spirit of the “gallant lady” we know. (PLEASE CLICK ON THE TITLE ABOVE TO CONTINUE READING.)

Several years ago, our precocious 6 year old son informed me we were going to write a book. It was going to be about a tree house I promised to build for him. By the time he finished creating the story and I had finished building the tree house (which actually took place over a Father’s Day Weekend), we had our ‘book’. It was only as that story unfolded that its true lesson was revealed – parenting isn’t about building whatever your kids dream, it’s about building a platform for their dreams and all of their tomorrow dreams, too. (PLEASE CLICK ON THE TITLE ABOVE TO CONTINUE READING.)

Sunset Alert. It started out so simply 30 years ago or so. One early evening while working in a skyscraper in Philadelphia, I walked to the western side of the building and noticed how spectacular the sunset was. Feeling that our team needed a break from the tedium of the audit I returned to our workroom and proclaimed “Sunset Alert” whereupon we filed down the hall, sat on some desks in an empty office, soft drinks in hand, and watched the sun set beyond the city while chatting for a few moments. It was a most welcomed and enjoyable mini-respite and became a daily ritual. A tradition was born. A few years later while working for a company in Southern California I introduced that tradition to our employees there as well. (PLEASE CLICK ON THE TITLE ABOVE TO CONTINUE READING.)

The sun broke on the watery horizon, as if being pulled into the aurora of its first light. The waves from the crystalline turquoise water lapped softly against the shore of white sand, still cold on my feet. I stopped to watch the sunrise and felt my feet sink into the sand, the receding water tickled my ankles. I felt the warmth of the sun as it reached my face. I closed my eyes and felt my arms rise up outstretched, my palms upturned. I drank in the morning. When I opened my eyes, I saw the full glory of the morning upon the cove. I lifted my buried feet from the sand, turned away from the sea and headed for a tiny overgrown trail that led through the vegetation at the edge of the beach, the sand warm on my feet. (PLEASE CLICK ON THE TITLE ABOVE TO CONTINUE READING.)

It started out as a joke. Really. When I visit family and friends I like to drive their children to school in the morning. That windshield time without their parents has always been fruitful. After driving Joey one morning a few years ago when he was in 6th grade, he joked that I should teach one of his classes the next day. I took him up on the offer, watched that night with amusement his verbal processing of deciding which of his teachers he wanted to have replaced for the day, and knew he had me when he declared with a grin belying his age: “Religion”. Joey’s father, a former teacher, currently a school administrator, and a life-long friend of mine was somewhere between stunned and bewildered (but admittedly not at all surprised by my antics) when the arrangements were all made without any discussion between the teacher and me on the lesson for the day. (PLEASE CLICK ON THE TITLE ABOVE TO CONTINUE READING.)

When we turn our calendar pages on Thursday to September from August this year, many of us will find it unbelievable when we focus on the fact that THE September 11th was 10 years ago! This was an event that was to have forever changed our lives, our patriotism, and our sense of what is really important to us. As Danny Barnes says in his tribute song Nine Eleven written later that evening, “as we watched it all unfold before our eyes, it forced our hearts to see it all and be part of the pain. The sadness, the madness, the sorrow took over our lives”. Please give yourself some space and time to quietly look back and reflect on just what changes you have made in your own lives since that fateful day. (PLEASE CLICK ON THE TITLE ABOVE TO CONTINUE READING.)

As I am writing this newsletter, my wife is leading a delegation of junior high school students to visit two villages in the mountains of El Salvador, her eighth such visit. For these students, it is language and cultural immersion as they live with local families, share meals, play with and teach the children. One year we raised the money to buy the materials for - and actually help clear the land and build - a community center. Each year, money is raised to provide scholarships for students to attend regional high school and university, which are not available within the communities. Without these funds, most of these children would not be able to continue their formal education. The first scholarship recipients are now just graduating college! (PLEASE CLICK ON THE TITLE ABOVE TO CONTINUE READING.)