Papagni Pages

Tag: My story

  • Owning Your Own Business Versus Working for Someone Else

     

    Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com
    Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com

     

    Having worked for several companies/universities and then owning my own small business, I have had some time to reflect on my career and the choices I made.  Although I would not call myself a career expert, I have learned some valuable lessons along the way. There are times in life when we have the luxury of choice and there are times when we do things out of necessity. Planning is key so that you have more control over your direction and the outcome.

     

    While You’re in College

    I recall being in a panic during my second semester in college because I had decided to major in Sociology after an amazing Intro class. What will I do with a sociology degree was all-consuming. Keep in mind the internet did not exist back then. I spoke to people, canvassed my professors, and searched my soul, but after months of panic, nothing resonated for me. Then one day while working on campus my, I saw a poster on a bulletin board and the title was:  100 Careers with a Sociology degree; I was elated to say the least. I thought about stealing the poster but my conscience  got the better of me. I jotted down a number of career titles that seemed possible. I then set out to learn more about each of them.

    At this point in my life, working for myself would never have been an option; I was lazy and unmotivated and way too insecure. My thinking was conventional and my dreams lacked possibilities. I mostly thought that I’d be lucky to finish college. I also wondered if anyone would ever hire me. Most of my college friends were far worse off in that they were even lazier. My parents were blue-collar and the word “career” had little meaning for them. Times have changed . . .I think.

    Young people today seem to be much more aware of their options; I would even venture to say that many are fearless. People no longer think in terms of one job/one career. Moving from one job to the next is more the norm than the exception. I dare say that many young people today have their parents to fall back on. There are stats pointing to many living at home with their parents well into their late 20s and early 30s.

    Endless number of resources on the internet:

    Pros and Cons list (click)

    Reasons to Run Your Own Business (click)

     

    Out-of-the-Gate

    I read and hear stories about young entrepreneurs starting their own business either while still in college or right out of college. I imagine some of these kids do it without even thinking too much about it. The world has changed and technology of course has everything to do with it. The absence of bricks and mortar make start-up costs far more affordable for tech entrepreneurs with a good idea. There is a lot to consider when starting your own business; I will share some of my own experiences later in this blog.

     

    Your First Position

    In my day, your first position was incredibly important. Where you worked and for how long mattered a great deal. Staying in one place for a few years was very important for resume building and to show stability. I’m not sure this is true anymore. I think it is more the norm to try new things and then move on to the next new thing. There was a time when individuals might work for the same company for 30 or 40 years; this is hardly the case these days. One big problem that I can see when considering changing jobs often, are the raises and promotions one might receive by proving oneself valuable to a company.

    One of today’s considerations is that many of today’s businesses appear to have a revolving door policy:  once an employee begins to become too expensive, companies often let them go and hire another employee at a lesser salary. This issue makes stability more difficult and mobility more prevalent. When you’re starting a family or caring for aging parents, moving from one city to another may be difficult — as I stated earlier, so much to consider.

    I am a list-maker and I find it helpful to jot down all of the variables. What are your wishes, hopes, and dreams? What in your life is non-negotiable? Where do you want to live? What are your salary requirements? Is longevity important to you? Do you have a five-year plan? Can you put money into savings and/or a retirement plan (never too early to consider building retirement savings).

     

    Owning Your Own Business

    I had no choice but to start my own business. I was a high earner in New York and when I left to start a new life in Maine, I had a difficult time getting my foot in the door. I managed to convince a couple of big companies to interview me; however, as time went on, it became clear that I would probably not acquire the position I hoped for. I had a number of things working against me:

    • I became too expensive for most companies
    • Employers were afraid of offering me a job at a lesser salary, fearing that I would not stay long (they told me so). Career advisors told me to omit high level positions from my resume; something I just could not or would not do.
    • When you’re over fifty you become high risk for companies offering insurance benefits. Older hires can raise premiums significantly.
    • Many of the HR individuals doing the interviewing were in their 30s and 40s and could not relate to an older candidate.
    • Ageism is alive and well in the United States.

    I experienced one road block after another until I finally gave in and decided to start a consulting business. I thought that my expertise in hospitality could be an asset in a city that had a reputation for great food in a magnificent seaside setting (frankly the reason I relocated to Portland, Maine). Starting a business these days is not easy. After developing a business plan, developing a website was my next greatest challenge:  cost, content, credibility, target markets, and time, were all major considerations. I had some savings put aside for survival in my new city and decided to put some resources toward my new venture. I was fortunate to find a graphics design students who was developing websites part-time. She was smart, talented, and her youthful outlook was exactly what I needed to offset my “older” perspective.

    I never kidded myself about my age and what I knew and didn’t know. I bartered with my first few clients. I needed endorsements and a client list in order to garner any credibility in the crowded field of consultants. Initially, several businesses were very kind to me and open to giving me a chance. I learned some valuable lessons along the way:

    • Don’t expect to make any money your first year (your expenses will outweigh your income).
    • Keep track of every expense — tax deductions will become extremely important
    •  Be generous with your time and budget. I offered the first hour of consulting free and that turned out to be the cornerstone of my early success.
    • Find other ways to supplement your income while you’re building your business. At one point I had three part-time jobs. All three were ways of meeting new people, attracting potential clients, and providing a distraction from the hardship of a start-up.
    • Be careful not to burn out. I rewarded myself with some travel and nice dinners after each new client was signed on.
    • Make sure your fees are competitive and fair. Offer clients an out and stand by your accomplishments. Don’t give away the farm; what you are offering is valuable.
    • Your network is larger than you might imagine. Don’t be afraid to ask for help. Consider how much you help others and the joy that it brings you. Others will want to do the same for you.

     

    Our Changing World

    I voluntarily left a position when I was 54 years old thinking that with my education and experience, I was highly marketable; was I ever wrong. The world changed in the blink of an eye and I was so busy living life, I didn’t see what was happening in front of my face. We all grow up in a certain time and place where norms guide us. Change has always been a constant; however, today change is more rapid than it has historically ever been. Keeping up with change is an almost impossible challenge, but try you must or you will be left wondering why you didn’t. Never assume you know enough. Never assume that everyone around you has integrity. Be hyper aware without being cynical. Do your homework, ask a lot of questions, and keep up with technology.

    Sometimes I have so much going on in my head and so much information coming at me, it feels like my brain is about to explode. I have learned how to store information on my laptop so that I don’t have to keep it in my head. Freeing up space in your mind will make it easier to allow new thoughts and knowledge to flow in. Meditation was a big part of my work life. I would close the door and free my mind of all distractions. This 10 to 20 minute almost daily practice would help me to gain perspective. Above all else be grateful that you get to choose. And never forget to thank those around you who have helped you succeed. Often we say thank you when it is too late. No matter how smart you or how resourceful you might be, you more than likely have cheerleaders:  spiritual, emotional, and caring support and guidance that helps you navigate this changing world. Be gracious and grateful and good things will continue to come your way.

     

    Follow Your Heart and the Money Will Come

    Life is all about choices. When choosing working for someone else or having your own business, remember that decisions are often not etched in stone. Trying out an idea or pursuing a dream, doesn’t mean that you will be in it for life. Our fear of the unknown can be so strong it stifles us. Money complicates matters further. You know all the questions you ask yourself:  Will I make enough to live on? Can I afford to send my children to college? Will I have enough for retirement. The questions can be overwhelming.

    person writing calligraphy style quote on table
    Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com

     

    Where Your Career Takes You

    People often think that owning your own business means that you no longer have to answer to “the man.” In truth, no matter what you do to earn money, you will always have to answer to someone. Restaurant owners answer to their customers/clients, as do plumbers, CPAs, lawyers, real estate brokers and so on.When you become successful and no longer have to be hyper concerned about earnings, you might be able to pick and choose your clients. I know very few business owners who can truthfully claim this position. Most business owners are beholden to their clients and in some ways, this can be even more stressful that working for someone else. When you’re an employee, because you do not own the business, you are usually not ultimately responsible for the business. You can always be held accountable; however, legally, the business owner(s) is responsible. You can be terminated, but it would be rare for an employee to be financially libel (there are of course exceptions). Most business owners carry insurance which should or could cover you up to a certain limit. It’s a good thing to look into before starting a position.

    Big Lesson:  If you go into business in order to escape working for someone else, you’re doing it for the wrong reasons.

     

    Pointers Along the Way

    • Stay true to yourself
    • Weigh the pros and cons (make lists)
    • Talk to people who have taken different paths
    • Keep an open mind
    • Consider your partner
    • When do you want to start or family?
    • Consider the lives of your children
    • Have short-term and long-term goals
    • Save and start a retirement plan early on
    • Remember to enjoy yourself
    • Be prepared for curve balls
    • When you own your own business, you could easily end up working very long hours. It’s a good idea to plan your work day and try to stay on a schedule.
    • Go on vacation; take time off

     

    Last Words

    One of my favorite questions is:

    If you could do it over again, what would you change?

    When I look at the decisions and choices I have made, I realize that although I did not love every job I have had, all of my life experiences seem to have led me to where I am today. Often we have no idea where a decision will take us; will it be the “right” job? Will I make a lot of money? Will it lead to a promotion? Will I like the people I work with? You can do a great deal of research and talk to many people about a company or business, but you cannot ever predict the future. So many things can happen along the way to determine an outcome. This is why it is often best to go with what you feel in your gut. If you have a support group around you and you work hard, you can weather just about any storm. Character building is just as important as career building.

    One thing I might have changed was my appetite for risk taking. I’ve realized that times in my life when I threw caution to the wind, I had some positive results. I learned more about myself, I was prideful about the outcome, and I was often pleasantly surprised with the results. I was able to retire when I was 58 years old because I did a lot of planning. For me, leisure time, travel, exploration and enjoying every minute I have on this planet, have been my top priorities. Keeping your eye on the prize is essential for reaching your goals. Be flexible, be realistic, be daring, and be happy and as the experts say, “don’t sweat the small stuff.”

    A number of you own your own business or may have thoughts about the topic. It would be great to hear your perspective.

     

    Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com
    Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com
    Photo by Rakicevic Nenad on Pexels.com

  • What is Love?

    Better yet . . . what is love to me?

    “He that falls in love with himself will have no rivals.” -Benjamin Franklin

     

     

    Photo by picjumbo.com on Pexels.com
    Photo by Ronailson dos Santos on Pexels.com
    Photo by Swapnil Deshpandey on Pexels.com

     

    I’ve blogged about friendship, fear, loss, sexuality and so on, and so I thought that it is time for love. Must be all this talk of Valentine’s Day, although it’s not quite as commercial here in Portugal. Maybe it is and I’m just not aware of it.

    Who am I to speak of love? I ask myself this question because I have had several failed relationships over the past 40 years. Perhaps that makes me as qualified as anyone else to pontificate on love. It is essential to question and examine; searching for answers that will help us to better understand ourselves and the world we live in.

     

    How do I know that I am capable of loving?

    This may seem like an odd question, but it’s important for me to begin by acknowledging (to myself) that I am certain that I have loved and that I continue to love deeply. My earliest memory of a love that was extremely intense and painful, was a childhood memory. I was in first grade, so I believe I was seven years old. My father was taking a month-long trip to Italy, his birthplace, to see his family living in Bisceglie. He had never travelled overseas and he had never been away overnight.

    Bisceglie, Puglia

     

    In my mind, Bisceglie was far, far away, and dad was going on an airplane and he’d probably never come back. Where these thoughts came from, I haven’t a clue. I vividly remember missing him badly and praying for his safe return. This felt very much like love. It was a love so strong it remains with me today and probably will until the day I die — I think of my father daily. Admittedly, I never felt this same love for my mother. I did love my mother, however, not with the same intensity.

    I use that experience as my “love barometer” and I can say honestly that I only feel that kind of love for a handful of people and Giorgio, my pet whom I lost a few months ago.

    About Bisceglie:  I’ve never been. I want to go, but I have always said that I would experience my father’s birthplace with the person I intend to spend my life with. I think it’s time to let go of that notion and just go. I believe it will be an important journey.

     

    When was the first time I felt love?

    I was four years old and I remember my sister AnnMarie crawling into my twin bed. She was 11 years old at the time. She whispered “I love you” in my ear and I purred like a kitten; a feeling of love washed over me and I said, I love you too.

    I believe I remember this particular moment because AnnMarie was a substitute mother to me when I was a child; she took very good care of me; I was her doll. Perhaps I am mistaking nurturing for love? Something tells me the two go hand-in-hand.

     

    Can you teach people how to love?

    I imagine this question has been asked since humankind recognized love and gave it a name. Love seems to be one of the characteristics we share with the rest of the animal kingdom. I’ve witnessed it in so many different ways in many different species. The love for a parent, a sibling, a friend and for others of our own species. We express this love in many ways and we do things, good and bad things, as a result of feeling love.

    It appears that forces exist that attempt, successfully or unsuccessfully, to destroy our ability to love. I would say that we are all born with that innate ability; however, human beings sometimes, for whatever reason, attempt to destroy another human being’s ability or desire to love — it is the root of so many of our problems.

    I have also observed that some individuals seem to be born with the great gift of a heart that is so full they inspire others to open up their own hearts. Love can grow larger just as easily as it can be extinguished. We can doubt, question, betray, harm, and walk away from love; this appears to be a trait that separates us from other animals.

     

    The difference between loving someone and making love

    I have never believed that sex and love are the same thing. Sex is an instinctual behavior. All animals have sex or seek sex with one another. I assume it all started as a way to procreate and then morphed into a pleasurable act. I won’t go into all that here; this is a blog about love. I do believe that sex is one way of expressing one’s love for another, but obviously love and sex are not mutually exclusive. I believe it’s dangerous to mix the two things up. Doing so has certainly created problems for me in the past.

     

    How love changes as you age

    Perhaps love doesn’t change as you age, but what does change is your understanding of love and your appreciation for love. I have become cautious and fearful. Opening myself up to love someone deeply:  something I’m working on; I have a long list.

     

    The joy love brings

    It was only a few months ago that I lost my dog Giorgio. When I think about unconditional love, it is Giorgio that comes to mind. I am skeptical when it comes to human beings loving one another unconditionally; I may have to be convinced. I’m fairly certain that no one has ever loved me the way Giorgio loved me. I was his human. I have come to realize that only those who have had a devoted pet truly understand the bond between an animal and a human. I know it’s not just because I fed him and took care of him. It’s unlike any other love that exists and I am forever grateful for having experienced that love at least three times in my life. I’m hoping I get to have it again someday.

     

    Image may contain: people sitting, dog and indoor
    Giorgio posing for my friend Mauro Fermariello, an Italian Photographer. So grateful Mauro captured Giorgio for me — this was a beautiful gift I will always cherish.

    Scientific proof (link)

     

    The Ultimate Love

    I’m not sure where I heard it first, but I think Ru Paul says it best,

    “If you don’t love yourself, how in the hell you gonna love somebody else?”

    When I first heard this notion of loving yourself I thought it was rubbish and I dismissed it without much thought for a long time. Then in my mid-thirties, I was sitting with my therapist and she said, “Do you love yourself?” My immediate thought was I need to find a new therapist and then I realized how much I liked her and I seriously considered her question.

    In order to answer truthfully I had to spend the entire week prior to my next session pondering her question. I returned the following week and told her that I unfortunately did not like myself very much. I figured out that this is how therapists get you to stay in therapy longer — it was a hook. I jest, she convinced me to consider where this was coming from and why. I could easily blame it on my mother; she gave me permission to do so when I told her I was seeing a therapist. It would be too easy to do that so I decided to try to alter my thinking. My therapist told me that I should look in the mirror and say, I love you.” I laughed about that for weeks and then I tried it one day. It was admittedly one of the more difficult things I’ve ever done. Oh, I could say it easily, but not without laughing in my own face.

    I made a conscious decision to say it to myself before falling asleep at night and to mention it in passing to myself at various times of the day — out loud by the way. After a while, like anything else, it got easier and I actually started believing it. I would buy myself flowers at the farmer’s market, put them in a vase and present them to myself with, “I love you Christopher.” Why is it so easy to do this for someone else, but so difficult for ourselves.

    The newly enlightened me does it all the time now. I take myself to dinner, buy myself plane tickets, shop for new clothes and each time, I remind myself that I am giving myself a gift and a big hug. It no longer feels awkward or weird; it feels natural. The added benefit is this:

    When  you love someone you want all good things for them. You want them to be healthy and happy and to feel appreciated. When you love yourself, you want all of those things for yourself. You begin to live a healthier lifestyle for the sole purpose of feeling good for yourself. And people notice this about you. They smile and say things like, “It’s great to see you so happy,” or “You look terrific,” or even better, they stop expecting you to have another person to complete you. They actually recognize that you can be happy and single at the same time. I came to this realization not too long ago and it is hands down one of the greatest life lessons I have learned. There are many more lessons to learn; however, the ability to love myself and forgive myself, makes everything else just a little easier.

     

     

     

  • Growing Up in Brooklyn

    “Apparently Brooklyn needn’t always push itself to be something else, something conscious and anxious, something pointed toward Manhattan…. Brooklyn might sometimes also be pleased, as here on Flatbush, to be its grubby, enduring self.”
    ― Jonathan Lethem, The Fortress of Solitude
    IMG_2791
    Taken in Brooklyn, New York in the 70s

    Have you ever been in the audience at a concert or comedy club or anywhere and the person on stage mentions Brooklyn and there will almost always be someone or more than one person in the audience who screams and shouts (loudly)? People who were born in Brooklyn or live in Brooklyn are filled with pride; some say it borders on obnoxious behaviors. Actually, people who come from Brooklyn believe they have supernatural powers.

    I would know, because I was born and raised in Brooklyn and I too have supernatural powers. My boyish charm and charisma are proof of my powers, no? Okay, okay, I digress. But honestly folks, there is something about Brooklyn that makes one believe he or she is really special. How else would you explain Barbra Streisand (click), Jay Z, Woody Allen, Joy Behar, and on and on (click for long list)?

    The Brooklyn of My Youth

    • Coney Island — I was born in Coney Island. It was of course very different back then. There was Steeplechase Park (click), an amusement park that was probably responsible for putting Coney Island on the map. It closed when I was a little boy; however, I have fond memories of the fun houses and rides. There truly was nothing like it in the world. The Amusement Park that is still operating today took its place and although it is not Steeplechase, it’s a great place to bring the kids. My dad immigrated from Italy and moved to Coney Island as a young man. He was a member of a social club and he knew most of the ride owners. I would go straight from school to the amusement park and ride the Cyclone for hours without having to pay. My mother worked at the snack bar at Coney Island hospital where she gave birth to several of my siblings. For some reason, I was born at a different hospital — probably her doctor; I never asked. My mother’s mother was born in Russia — so you see where all my problems originated.
    • The Streets — the streets of Brooklyn were safe back then. Parents would not have thought twice about allowing their children to play stickball in the streets. I pretty certain this is a practice of the past.
    • Restaurants — Because Brooklyn had over 2.5 million residents from all over the world (see below), 50 years ago you could find really good Italian, Russian, Chinese and other ethnic foods. And then of course there was Nathans hot dogs — I still crave these crunchy dogs today. You can get them in many different places (franchise), but to get truly have the Nathan’s experience you have to go to Coney Island. The fries and the Little Neck clams were also memorable.
    • Confidence versus attitude (arrogance) — many people accuse Brooklynite’s of being over-confident. I would argue that a healthy self-esteem is a good thing. Perhaps there are Brooklynite’s with an attitude, but these kind of people live everywhere. The pride one feels about coming from Brooklyn has a great deal to do with the richness of the culture, the diversity, the many great things that have come out of Brooklyn and Brooklyn’s historical resistance to living in the shadow of Manhattan. Brooklyn has always had its own identity and boatloads of things to be proud of.
    • Welcome Back Kotter (click) — was a very successful television comedy series in the 70s. A photograph of my high school, New Utrecht High School, was shown at the beginning and the end of every episode. I didn’t especially appreciate the notion of Sweat Hogs (a whole class of not-very-bright teenagers), but I did relate to a good deal of the show.
    • The Brooklyn Museum, the Brooklyn Public Library, the Farmer’s Market, Prospect Park, the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens, the beaches — it took me so long to discover how rich in culture Brooklyn truly is. We took school trips to all of these magnificent places and I took it all for granted. I assume I absorbed some of it, but it was not until I moved to North Carolina that I realized what I had been exposed to as a child.
    Brooklyn Public Library by DS.JPG
    Central Branch
    The Brooklyn Public Library

    Ground was broken for a Brooklyn central library on Prospect Park Plaza (Grand Army Plaza) in 1912. The design of the original architect Raymond Almirall called for a domed, four-story Beaux Arts building, similar in style to the nearby Brooklyn Museum. Escalating costs and political in-fighting helped slow construction throughout the decade. World War I and the Great Depression ensured that Almirall’s building, whose Flatbush Avenue wing had been completed by 1929, would never be built. In the 1930s, the architects Githens and Keally were commissioned to redesign the building, eliminating all the expensive ornamentation and the entire fourth floor. After much public and critical praise for the comparatively inexpensive Art Deco structure, construction recommenced in 1938. Almirall’s building on Flatbush Avenue was largely demolished except for the frame. (Some of the original facade that faces in toward the library’s parking lot is still visible.) Completed by late 1940, the Central Library opened to the public on February 1, 1941. It is regarded today as one of America’s greatest Art Deco buildings (Wikipedia).

    Image result for Brooklyn Museum
    The Brooklyn Museum houses over one million pieces of artwork. I had no idea how important the museum was when I was growing up.

    Prospect Park

    The 585-acre green heart of Brooklyn, is arguably the best park in New York City? Even its famed designers, Frederick Law Olmsted and Calvert B.Vaux, considered it their masterpiece (more fun Wikipedia facts). But Central Park in Manhattan casts a very large shadow over Prospect Park; doesn’t matter it was my playground as a child. We lived only a few blocks away and the sleigh riding in winter was awesome.

    The Framer’s Market

    There is so much about Brooklyn that I can opine about and I would bore you and sound boastful, so I’ll only mention one more magical place:  there are many farmer’s markets in Brooklyn; however, none are quite as vast as the market at Grand Army Plaza, Prospect Park. From Grow NYC:

    “Founded in 1989, Grand Army Plaza is Greenmarket’s flagship Brooklyn market, and the second largest market in the program, behind Union Square. Located at the northwest entrance to beautiful Prospect Park— and just steps from the Brooklyn Public Library, the Brooklyn Museum, and the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. This community destination brings together a mix of shoppers from the nearby neighborhoods of Park Slope, Prospect Heights, Crown Heights, and beyond. Runners, dog-walkers, families, singles and foodies all converge to buy from the huge array of farm fresh products, and to participate in the programming and cooking demonstrations that take place every Saturday all year-long.”

    My apartment was one block away (5 minute walk) from the market in North Park Slope. I would wake up at my usual 5:15 a.m. (except when I went clubbing), have my coffee on my terrace (which faced the park — couldn’t see the park through the trees) and then walk over to my market to buy greens for the week. I never bought bread because I got the most amazing bread free from The French Culinary Institute bread kitchen. Well, it wasn’t really free because I worked my tooshie off for it.

    The Landscape (Demographics)

    Map of Brooklyn
    Year Inhabitants
    1731 2,150
    1756 2,707
    1771 3,623
    1786 3,966
    1790 4,549
    1800 5,740
    1810 8,303
    1820 11,187
    1830 20,535
    1840 47,613
    1850 138,822
    1860 279,122
    1870 419,921
    1880 599,495
    		YearInhabitants17312,15017562,70717713,62317863,96617904,54918005,74018108,303182011,187183020,535184047,6131850138,8221860279,1221870419,9211880599,495
    Year Inhabitants
    1890 838,547
    1900 1,166,582
    1910 1,634,351
    1920 2,018,356
    1930 2,560,401
    1940 2,698,285
    1950 2,738,175
    1960 2,627,319
    1970 2,602,012
    1980 2,230,936
    1990 2,300,664
    2000 2,465,326
    2010 2,504,710
    2015 2,636,735
    		YearInhabitants1890838,54719001,166,58219101,634,35119202,018,35619302,560,40119402,698,28519502,738,17519602,627,31919702,602,01219802,230,93619902,300,66420002,465,32620102,504,71020152,636,735
    YearInhabitants
    17312,150
    17562,707
    17713,623
    17863,966
    17904,549
    18005,740
    18108,303
    182011,187
    183020,535
    184047,613
    1850138,822
    1860279,122
    1870419,921
    1880599,495
    YearInhabitants
    1890838,547
    19001,166,582
    19101,634,351
    19202,018,356
    19302,560,401
    19402,698,285
    19502,738,175
    19602,627,319
    19702,602,012
    19802,230,936
    19902,300,664
    20002,465,326
    20102,504,710
    20152,636,735

    Neighborhoods

    Brooklyn, like many other cities, is divided up into many neighborhoods. Each has its own identity and culture. I spent a lot of time exploring before purchasing my very first apartment. I didn’t have very much money at the time, but I begged, borrowed, and sold my life insurance policy for a $9,000 down payment. Park Slope was one of the most beautiful areas I had ever visited and prior to a colleague showing it to me, I had no idea it existed. I was very fortunate to find a tiny one bedroom with a fireplace and terrace just one block from Prospect Park and only a few blocks from the subway. It was a four floor walk-up in a beautiful 1880s brownstone. While I was living there the economy improved and Brooklyn as a brand, took off. I took advantage of the boom and sold my place to upgrade to a two bedroom in a dicey section of Fort Greene I knew would become more desirable; after all, Manhattan’s desirable housing inventory was expensive and not easy to come by. the downtown Brooklyn Fort Greene area was right next to the Brooklyn and Manhattan Bridges with amazing views of Manhattan and easy access to the city — it seemed like a good move. All of these real estate decisions were fairly impulsive. I keep telling myself that I must have been thinking about the economy and the times, but I can’t recall when that thinking might have taken place.  It was certainly not happening at work or at the clubs. Perhaps I just got lucky.

    Brooklyn has been good to me my entire life and I consider it my home. I will return to my roots for the rest of my life and I will never take Brooklyn for granted.

    Diversity

    Without going into specifics about the enormous diversity that has always existed in Brooklyn, let’s just say that living side-by-side with individuals from all over the world teaches a child a great deal about similarities and differences among individuals. I recall racial tension in Brooklyn around the issue of busing kids from one neighborhood to the other. It wasn’t pretty; there were walkouts and boycotts and a lot of angry people, but in due time it was sorted out. After awhile, people learned how to be with one another. I am certain that racism and religious bias continues to exist in Brooklyn; however, I am also certain that there have always been progressive individuals who were and are willing to do the work that needs to be done. As a child, I lived on a street with Italians, Hasidic Jews, Reformed Jews, Chinese, Irish, Greeks, and I’m certain, other nationalities. We held an annual block party where nearly every family put out food and danced in the street; it was honestly an international festival.

    I believe that people from all over the world are moving to Brooklyn partly because they know that they will be embraced and provided with opportunities to earn a living and live their dream. I know this sounds “pie in the sky,” but I truly believe my thoughts have merit.

    Why Brooklyn is Celebrated Everywhere

    When I travel and meet new people, the first question is always, “Where are you from?” I was always proud to say, Brooklyn, New York. The reaction I got 20 years ago, even ten years ago, is not the reaction I get today. Today, people say, “Really, I want to go there.” For a Brooklynite, this is music to my ears. Of course you want to go there, it’s like going to Venice, except that there are no canals (that’s not entirely true) and/or stunning architecture (of course some will dispute this as well).

    Brooklyn Today

    I have to be very careful here. If I say anything disparaging about Brooklyn, they’ll come to Portugal to hunt me down. It’s easy to look back at the past and say things like:  things were different back then; it was safer and it was a more innocent time. Every generation perceives their particular generation to be smarter, innocent, and more fortunate.

    I left Brooklyn to Move to Manhattan because I took a position at NYU that included housing. When it was time for me to purchase an apartment, I realized I could get more for my money there and it was before it became trendy to own or live there. In Brooklyn I could own a car and park on the street, drive to restaurants, drive into Manhattan or the other boroughs and eat at ethnic restaurants offering world-class cuisine. Again, to be sure, I had no idea what I had when I had it. I will always be grateful for the Brooklyn of my youth.

    Image result for the brooklyn bridge
    The Brooklyn Brige. Clearly one of the most magnificent bridges in the world (USA Today photo)
    Image may contain: 1 person, standing and text
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    The block I grew up on in Bensonhurst. I am in the back on the left; always photo shy. My friend Joey is the one holding the bat. He was the alpha male of 66th Street  ca. 1967

  • Traveling as an American Expat: Morocco & Seville

    My New Backyard (Europe and Africa)

     

     

    Happy New Year! It’s nice to be back after a couple of weeks of celebrating and traveling.

    If you prefer a travel blogger who provides the easiest way to get there and all the places to go, stay and eat; that’s not me. I’ll give you a glimpse of what I experienced and then some thoughts on culture, value, ease, etc. I may occasionally plug an exceptional restaurant and/or hotel. I want this to be fun and it won’t be if I have to chronicle my trips from start to finish.

    I titled this piece “Traveling as an American Expat” because I noticed that each time I have left Portugal it has been very easy to exit and even easier to re-enter. I’m not stating that every American has the same experience that I have, but I have admittedly been pleasantly surprised. I have left Portugal a dozen times and I have only had to show my resident visa once and that was in Edinburgh and it took all of three seconds. I look around at border patrol/customs and I notice others do not have it as easy; this is especially true for middle easterners and that makes me sad. I won’t go into political implications and biases, but suffice it to say that I am ashamed of how many in this world are treated because of their residence or religion.

    Allow me to come clean about a few things before I begin:

    1. I am extremely fussy. I like things a certain way and I’m rarely if ever completely satisfied; ask my friends.
    2. I often learn as I go. Because I sometimes make impulsive or rash decisions, I usually make a mistake and then try not to repeat it.
    3. I don’t take pictures of everything and I don’t go on social media every time I have an experience. I’m trying to be more present and that means less time on my cell phone.
    4. I don’t rely on TripAdvisor or sites where people share their opinions. I find that the average person’s standards are not up to snuff. I’m feeling somewhat hypocritical because I have been known to share my dining critiques on social media. Some people will write nice things because they can never say anything bad. Some people will always be nasty because they have no idea how else to be. Some people will write about food:  quality, taste, value, and so on and they know nothing about food.
    5. I truly love traveling off-season. The deals are hard to beat and there are so few tourists, you get a true sense of what it’s like for the locals. You may discover that some places are closed off-season or hours might be curtailed; a minor inconvenience I am willing to put up with. Be sure to research the weather if that is a factor for you. I prefer to travel to places where temperatures are mild in winter.

     

    Asilah, Morocco

     

    IMG_2888-1
    I took this photograph from the living room  our Airbnb in Asilah

     

    I took a day trip to Tangier over 15 years ago. I have always felt that since I had a guide and I only spent eight hours there, that it wasn’t fair to say much about Morocco. The last time I took a ferry from Tarifa, Spain and to be honest, it was more about stepping foot on the African continent. I wanted to travel to Morocco the same way this time; however, the ferry schedule off-season is sporadic and getting to and from Tarifa would have been no easy task. Instead, I took a comfortable and very affordable (34 Euros roundtrip) bus to Seville, Spain and then a flight on RyanAir (120 Euro round trip with checked bag). RyanAir is a no frills airline. Check-in is sometimes chaotic; however, the staff is efficient and travel is a bargain. I had a new airplane on my return flight which was very comfortable. Honestly, the flight is 30 minutes and the best part of that is that if you have to pee, you can hold it in. When you arrive in Tangier, you breeze through passport control because there are no other people at the airport. I don’t believe there are more than 10 flights going in and out of that airport in a 24 hour period; it’s almost eerie it’s so void of people.

    My friend Patrick rented a car to get to Asilah and there were no other people at Avis so we got our car in five minutes. Again, we left the airport without seeing very many other people. Take note that if you decide to drive on Moroccan highways (toll roads) you need Dirham because they don’t accept anything else except Moroccan money at the toll booths. The roads are new and easy to drive on; except for the very strong winds that Patrick was forced to navigate.

    When we arrived in Asilah we followed our GPS to the house, but it took us to a huge public outdoor bazaar. There were hundreds (maybe thousands) of Moroccans participating in an outdoor festival. When were a little lost looking for our Airbnb. The crowds were walking in the streets and the people did not really seem to notice our car, nor did they care to move for us. It was a strange experience. We had to crawl through the crowds of people. We eventually got hold of our host who told us that we could not park outside of the house which was located inside a walled city — the Medina (not the famous one). The Medina was filled with shops and homes and very narrow streets. We had to park in a paid lot in the middle of the festival and walk to our house. It was only meters away from the parking lot, but prior to setting out to find our place, we had no idea how far we’d have to lug our bags.

     

    We found our house, which was not quite like the photos, but isn’t that usually the case. Still, it was a beautiful house with ocean and Medina views. We would all have been happier if it wasn’t so cold in the house. It took us 24 hours to figure out how to make it warm and we only had 48 hours. The best thing about the house was Fatima. Fatima and her husband are caretakers for the house and they truly did take good care of us. We had a terrific breakfast and they made us a fire. Fatima quietly disappeared and made-up my bed during breakfast. I’m nearly 60 years old and I’m not sure anyone has made-up my bed since I was five years old — that was a real treat.

    The house was in the Medina (not the one in Saudi Arabia), a walled city in Asilah, (click for more from Lonely Planet).

    We had a full day to explore the Medina and the surrounding area. Fortunately, we are all walkers and so we walked. The Medina had narrow streets and pathways and lots of artisan shops (see my big purchase below).

    We decided to celebrate New Year’s Eve at a restaurant in Asilah and we stumbled upon:

    Port IV (click) Restaurant

    This is probably Asilah’s best place to eat right now and we enjoyed it immensely. The service was good and almost all of us were happy with our choices (no photos, sorry). Having a full bar was a bonus and the owner made me a very authentic gin martini. I was one happy fella. Although I was unable to stay up till midnight, I did enjoy being with friends and being in Morocco; it’s a night I won’t soon forget.

     

    Tangiers (Tanger for the locals)

     

     

    As I mentioned earlier, I visited Tangier years ago. I had only seen a small part of the city and from what I have heard, it has changed quite a bit. I stayed at the Movenpick Hotel and Casino for two reasons:  First I got a great off-season rate for this four star property and second, I was in the mood for some blackjack. Both paid off. My room was spacious and beautifully appointed (some really nice bathroom products as well) and the casino was pleasant and on the second day, I celebrated a small winning streak. I had a nice meal at Miami Restaurant which was nearby. Their French pastries were especially lovely. Most Moroccans speak French and there were French pastries at every turn (you see smatterings of French culture). There was a great deal to enjoy and celebrate. I went home a winner in every sense of the word.

    Image result for Moroccans first language
    The two official languages are Modern Standard Arabic and Amazigh (Berber). Moroccan Arabic (known as Darija) is the spoken native vernacular. The languages of prestige in Morocco are Arabic in its Classical and Modern Standard Forms and French, the latter of which serves as a second language for many Moroccans.

    Languages of Morocco – Wikipedia

     

    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Languages_of_Morocco

     

    Note:  I walked into the center of the city and if I’m going to be honest, although the city was clean and no one warned me to be careful, I did not feel safe. Beggars follow you and they do not take no for an answer; it can be off-putting and disturbing.

     

    Seville, Spain

     

     

    I am in love. Seville is a beautiful, culturally rich, culinary mecca, just three hours door-to-door from my place in Faro. I only just returned home, but I have already booked a hotel for the end of February. I now know that Seville will be my home away from home. I am delighted to have rediscovered this breathtaking city.

    You will enjoy these two pieces written by my food writer friend Joanna Pruess. She wrote about Seville for Specialty Food Magazine. Joanna primed me for my Seville adventure with her delicious point of view and fabulous recipes:

    Tasty Bites of Seville (click for article)

    Savoring Seville (click title)

    The Seville bus station, train station, and airport are all linked by a four Euro bus that has many stops throughout the city and runs every 20 minutes or so. The bus and train stations are centrally located and easy enough to get to. These days Uber rides are very inexpensive and although I love to walk, you can’t beat a five Euro Uber ride across town. The drivers usually speak English and they are (for the most part) good drivers.

    I stayed at very nice Airbnb for 65 Euros a night. It was a two bedroom apartment in a great area — 20 minutes by foot to just about everywhere.

    Note:  I have mixed feelings about Airbnb (see one of my earlier blogs). Some hosts are gracious and generous and truly want you to have a great stay. Others, seem to only care about making a buck. Be sure to read reviews and check for amenities. After awhile, you become better at discerning the true intentions of the hosts. They also have a review policy I totally disagree with:  both parties have to complete a review in order for the review to be posted. If you write a warranted poor review and the host does not review you as a guest, the review will not be posted by Airbnb — it seems like a way to ensure only good reviews get posted. I’m not sure how Airbnb gets away with this.

    The weather in Seville was great for walking around the city and spending time outdoors. I don’t believe it snows in Seville and when the sky is blue, it is an intense blue.

    Shopping

    I had one objective as I explored Seville. Paella is one of my favorite dishes to cook and I was determined to bring two ingredients back to Portugal:  Bomba (click) rice and saffron. I’ve tried many different kinds of cooking rice and Bomba is by far the best for paella (https://www.jamieoliver.com/recipes/rice-recipes/chicken-chorizo-paella/ Jamie Oliver’s recipe.

    Also  . . . Spanish saffron which is less pricey in Spain. I paid 14 Euros for about an ounce of saffron — it’s fresh and beautiful and I can’t wait to cook with it. I use it when cooking rice with meat dishes as well. I also purchased hand sliced jamon (Spanish cured ham) and some homemade nougat. Purchasing food in other countries is one of the best things about travel and there are many items that you should only purchase in the country where it originated or was made. Note:  if its fresh food and you’re flying, be sure to have it vacuum sealed.

    There are many shopping areas throughout the city; small boutique shops are my favorite. I was also impressed with the number of small art galleries. The artwork I looked at was quite beautiful and not outrageously expensive. A plug for El Cortes Inglese, a big chain store where I can spend hours just milling about. It’s like the Harrod’s of Spain. I’m praying one comes to Faro or the Algarve soon; hey we have an IKEA and Zara, so . . . what are you Spaniards waiting for

     

    Don’t miss out on Contenedor if you visit Seville. It’s fresh, delicious, quaint, and well priced. Make a reservation (click for website).

    I have already booked a hotel for a few days at the end of February and beginning of March. I did not book an Airbnb because I do not plan on cooking and I’d prefer amenities like a gym and indoor pool when I’m doing a quick culinary exploration trip. Yes, I’m spoiled, but after 40 years of busting my ass, I deserve it. I will write more about Seville after that trip.

    My big purchase in Morocco:

    B85F1417-8CAD-4606-A9B8-58F4E922E145
    I purchased this hand-woven Moroccan runner in Assilah. The merchant said, “I don’t haggle,” but I got the rug for about 80 Euro less than ask. He didn’t know what he was in for when I walked into his shop. I have all the information about where the rug was made and how it was made.

     

  • Feelings

     

     

    Photo by bruce mars on Pexels.com
    Photo by Genaro Servu00edn on Pexels.com
    Photo by Gratisography on Pexels.com

     

    Your State of Mind

    One of the many things that happen when you grow older is coming to terms with your feelings (if you’re lucky). Coping with your feelings, identifying your feelings, sorting out your feelings, embracing your feelings, allowing yourself to feel, projecting feelings; you can see where I’m going with this.

    Why Your Biology Runs on Feelings (click for more)

    Feelings are complicated and so is being human; it comes with the territory. Some people are so wrapped up in themselves, they neglect to consider the feelings of others. Is it social media, the pressures of life, family, coping skills, socialization? What is it about the world around us that has made us less empathetic? Some would argue that humans have always been this way. I’m not sure about that. I recall a time when people had more time for one another and seemed to care more; I could be wrong.

    I’m sure the news media has something to do with it. Around the clock news covering the world. It’s easy to become numb. The “this doesn’t affect me” attitude is also pervasive. I certainly do not have the answers; I only know how I feel.

    How Feelings Took Over the World (click)
    Anger
    I hate it when I get angry. Mostly because I feel that it could have been avoided. Harnessing my anger has been a long-term goal. When I’m well rested and relatively happy, any anger I feel is short-lived and can be sorted out. On the other hand, when I’m tired and things are falling apart around me, anger becomes a ball and chain around my ankle; impossible to get rid of. I can usually take a step back to process my anger and that seems to help; however, let’s be honest, sometimes the stepping back part just doesn’t happen. When I react based on emotion, it’s usually an outcome I regret.
    Not long ago I was having lunch with a friend and she started spewing what I thought was bigoted hate speech. You’d recognize it in a minute; when the words come from privilege and a lack of empathy. No matter how hard I sit on my hands and push the anger down, I find myself gritting my teeth and becoming righteous. I don’t like it one bit. The person sitting across from you does not hear the words you are speaking, they only experience the anger. What it does do is justify their feelings. What they hear in their head is:  it doesn’t matter what we’re talking about, he always has to start an argument or why does he think he’s smarter or better than I am? None of this is productive; in fact, it is counter-productive. Now we’re both angry and not speaking to one another and we both feel justified in our feelings. I shouldn’t speak for this person, let me say, I feel justified.
    We seek out like-minded individuals in order to avoid this kind of anger, but you have to ask yourself if avoidance is the right way to go. I’m not providing answers, I’m merely asking questions; processing for myself and hoping it helps others.
    Tears
    I am often moved to tears. I cry while watching movies, I weep while reading novels, I’ve been known to shed tears in the middle of a conversation with a friend, I cry in my dreams and at poetry readings, and I have cried myself to sleep a time or two. My father was a big man and he cried; he taught me that crying was okay and I am forever grateful to him for this. I feel sorry for people who cannot cry. I highly recommend it.
    Loss of Control 
    I have come to terms with being a control freak. I like to be in control. If something bad happens and it is beyond my control, I get angry. I have a difficult time processing:  how did this happen, why did it happen, who made it happen? I guess I believe that if I were in control, bad things wouldn’t happen. This is of course, untrue. Many bd things have happened while I was in control. The helpless feeling that I have when something is out of my control is unpleasant and frustrating. I am learning how to “let go” of situations, events, and reactions that are out of my control.
    Pain
    The hardest thing about pain, emotional, physical or psychological, is coping — not denying it, but feeling it. Let’s face it, pain in any manifestation sucks, but it’s unavoidable and must be felt. Make yourself as comfortable as possible and wait for it to pass. Unless we’re talking about a terminal illness, it will pass, and you will more than likely be stronger for having dealt with it.
    Happiness
    I hear about and read about happiness a lot lately. I was watching an old episode of the Good Wife last night and Stockard Channing (love her — did yoga with her in NYC once) was the guest star. Her character said this, “When you get older, the only thing that matters is your happiness.” I guess it struck me because I was in the middle of writing this blog. I don’t think it’s true. Life is so much more than my personal happiness. Yes, lots of things make me happy and I do often pursue my own happiness, but I also spend time thinking about the world, friends, family, cleaning my apartment, paying bills and none of that is necessarily about happiness. A good deal of the day is spent just doing what needs to get done. What makes me happy is just that, getting stuff done — it’s that sense of purpose I’ve discussed in earlier blogs.
    Joy
    I have to give myself permission to feel joy. I wish it wasn’t so, but it is what it is. After a while, if you’re watching, you get to know yourself and your limitations; your proclivities. I can hear this little voice in my head reminding me to smile and enjoy the moment. I have stopped questioning why this is so. As with any habit, good or bad, you do something often enough and it becomes part of your everyday life. It’s a good habit I am striving to teach myself . . . live a life filled with joy.
    “Today I choose life. Every morning when I wake up I can choose joy, happiness, negativity, pain… To feel the freedom that comes from being able to continue to make mistakes and choices – today I choose to feel life, not to deny my humanity but embrace it.”
    Kevyn Aucoin
    Gratitude
    Feeling grateful is powerful. Replacing feelings of pity, blame, resentment, anger, heartbreak, and regret, with gratitude can be more powerful than just about anything else. Sweeping feelings under the rug doesn’t work. Taking pills or drinking alcohol is temporary relief at best. Sitting quietly and thinking about or even writing about, what you are grateful for, helps you to feel more joyful.
    Tools
    Tools are helpful when feelings become difficult or painful. Some tools/coping skills have been discussed in this blog or past blogs. What I have learned is that tools are at our disposal and can and should be used as often as possible — not as a way of hiding or denying, but as a way to guide us, comfort us, and teach us.
    What’s Next for me?
    This is the six million dollar question I often ask myself. The answer is:  I have no idea. For the first time in my life, I am not thinking past the next few months and I have to say, I like it.

    abstract aluminum architectural architecture
    Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

     

     

  • Family

    A thought I am stating up front:

    Admittedly, this has been one of the more difficult blogs I have written thus far (I added this paragraph when I was nearly finished writing the blog). I have wanted to write about family from the day I started the blog, but I have often hesitated and abandoned the idea. There have been mentions of family; however, I have clearly danced around the topic on purpose. I have decided to go forward with it, play it safe and not name names. I am fairly certain family members know where they stand with me and I think it’s best not to air dirty laundry in a public forum.

    s
    Photo by Fox (free photo library)
    Definition from Urban Dictionary and why it resonates:
    family
    A group of people, usually of the same blood (but do not have to be), who genuinely love, trust, care about, and look out for each other. Not to be mistaken with relatives sharing the same household who hate each other.
    The words I love here are “genuine, trust, and look out for.” I am fortunate to have family members who check all the boxes. I also have friends whom I can say those things about; I consider them my extended or chosen family. None of my true family members are jealous of or would begrudge me of my chosen family. I believe those who love me for, and despite who I am, love me no matter what. I didn’t always realize how much love I had or have in my life; this came with maturity and experience.
    I would have added pictures of family I am speaking of here; however, I am fearful that I will omit someone by accident and live to regret it. 

    Not unlike anyone else alive and breathing, I have family issues. There are family members that are as much strangers as the individual walking down my street that I have never laid eyes on before today. It would be easy to beat myself up and blame myself for family “stuff.” They don’t like me because I’m fill in the blank. Since we’re all so different and complicated, trying to figure out why people behave a certain way toward you is bound to cause trouble (in your own head). Speculation is often dangerous and inaccurate; especially when it’s about family. Our expectations of family members is not the same as what we expect from friends or strangers. We’re often less forgiving when it comes to family.

    This thinking that family should be held to higher standards sets us up for failure. In reality, we’re all human and therefore, we make mistakes, we say stupid things, we take others for granted. With a friend you might sit them down and ask them if everything is okay or if you can talk about it. For some reason with family (I suspect it has to do with deep emotional ties) we are quick to allow our anger and resentment to make us dismissive.

    Some of the statements we might make to ourselves:

    • He/she should know better.
    • He/she never invites me to family functions.
    • They’ve turned their children against me.
    • He/she never calls me or I always have to be the one to call.
    • I’m so tired of being the one with all the answers.
    • Am I the only one who is taking care of mom/dad?
    • I wouldn’t be friends with this family member if I met him or her on the street, so why should I expect to like this person?

    Immediate Family

    I have created a life where my immediate family consists of me and me alone. I could easily share my thoughts on why this might be the case, but I think I’ll spare you the psycho-babble. I would imagine that the larger your immediate family is, the more complex your life might be. Growing up, there were nine or ten of us living in the house at any given time. Daily drama and breakdowns were a way of life. I choose isolation.

    I am reading The Little Big Things by Henry Fraser. Fraser had a diving accident in Portugal a few years ago. He tells his tragic story with great hope, passion, and truth. His family’s role in his recovery is clear from the start. You’re reading about a healthy family that put one another before all others. Their bond is strong and everlasting. As I read Fraser’s story, I find myself questioning my own family ties. It is true that I have family that I am extremely close with; family I believe would be there for me in any situation, at great personal sacrifice. Conversely, I have family that would not show up for me at a time of need. I have already been there, therefore, I know this is true.

    I think that most individuals could point to a time when family loyalty was tested. I believe it is during this time or these times, when we shape our opinions of family members and evaluate how deep we believe their love to be. Can one be wrong in their assessment? Absolutely. Judgment can easily be clouded by an argument, a particular incident, and/or a betrayal by a jealous family member(s).

    Estranged Family

    It seems like everyone I speak to have family members that they do not see or communicate with. The first thing I always think is:  how sad. Then I realize that there are family members I do not speak to and again I think, how sad. But as we all know we don’t get to choose family and we either accept them for who they are or we don’t. I once believed that all family deserved to be forgiven no matter the transgression, however, that is no longer how I feel. I now believe that there are people around us who are toxic. Keeping them around us is unhealthy and unwise. What I have learned over time, is that confronting certain people will only make the situation worse. It’s like the old saying about putting salt on a wound; best not to go there sometimes.

    Can an old wound be healed? I think it’s possible to mend a relationship, but both parties have to want it. It is similar to divorce, in that, emotions are often strong and anger deeply rooted, finding middle ground is impossible. The older I get, the more inclined I am to walk away. It is important to consider regret and the outcome of your actions. You have to ask yourself several questions:

    • Did I do everything possible to reconnect with this family member?
    • How deep is the wound?
    • Do I even remember the cause of the disagreement?
    • Is pride getting in the way?
    • If I choose to forgive, can I forgive?
    • Can forgiveness pave the way for a healthier relationship?
    • Is making the first move possible?
    • Will my estrangement affect other family members?

    Let me be clear that I am not pointing fingers. I did not have a family member in mind while writing this. I have made many mistakes. I have turned my back on family more than once. I have behaved immaturely and jumped to conclusions. I have avoided conflict and I have looked the other way. I have made excuses. I have placed blame. I have suffered in silence and I have made assumptions.

    I am in the process of acknowledging my limitations and I am attempting to figure it all out. I imagine in that way, that I am much like everyone else.

    I welcome your thoughts on this difficult subject.

    “The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other’s life.”

    Richard Bach
    Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/topics/family

    two person holding hands while sitting on grey cushion
    Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com

  • Time

    “It’s being here now that’s important. There’s no past and there’s no future. Time is a very misleading thing. All there is ever, is the now. We can gain experience from the past, but we can’t relive it; and we can hope for the future, but we don’t know if there is one.”
    ― George Harrison

     

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    Photo by Carol Buenosia

     

    I am convinced that I have spent the better part of my life creating stuff to do, experiences, lists, expectations, worries, and so on, in order to pass time. If I give myself enough to do, then I won’t have time to think about the “real” questions:

    • How can I make a difference?
    • Am I the best version of myself?
    • Am I happy with the choices I’ve made?
    • Do I spend time doing the things that matter to me?
    • What aspects of my life are a waste of my time?
    • What is stopping me from being impulsive?
    • Do I make too many lists?

    As I consider these questions, I know that this is not a definitive list. Answers sometimes come easy enough; however, acceptance of the answer is often elusive. For example, if I break away from my normal routine and decide to do something unpredictable, what will happen? Other things come up for me:  Will I spend money I shouldn’t spend? Will I be neglecting my responsibilities? Will the lack of planning make for a less fruitful experience? The questions are endless; this is what gets in the way of spontaneity. When I have thrown caution to the wind, I have often been pleasantly surprised; the unexpected happens and I’m happy with the outcome. One would think that this alone would help push me past my comfort zone. But alas, I get in my own way and way too often I take the conservative route and remain at home.

    I have asked friends to help and in some cases, they have. Letting go of control and allowing someone else to do the planning and decision-making, can be a wonderfully freeing feeling. It’s often a win-win. I wish it happened more often. I find myself in the position to just let go, now more than ever. I’m hopeful that more friends will trust my intentions and take me up on this offer. Everyone knows me as a detailed planner, making it difficult to convince certain individuals, that I would truly like to give up control. I’m screaming it from a mountaintop, I’m okay with you driving!

    Allow me to ponder another of my annoying questions:  Am I happy with the choices I’ve made? Wow, this being honest with myself business isn’t easy. I’ve made so many bad choices; however, most of them were with good intention. I’m not talking about the nights that I stayed out dancing until noon the following day with the help of recreational drugs or deciding to play hooky from work so that I could see a matinée Broadway show. I’m talking about marrying a woman or deciding not to father children — big decisions which informed the better part of my life. To be angry at myself for making these decisions would be pointless and a waste of time. Having regrets doesn’t reverse the bad decisions or erase the memories. What I do hope is that I have made amends and learned from my mistakes. Reviewing your personal history can help you to know what not to do in the future. Dwelling on that history for a long time and lamenting about what could have been, is futile.

    If you’ve been reading my blog, you know that I have been working on being present. Breaking old habits is difficult, however, what I am noticing is less worry and more overall happiness. Thoughts of being grateful have replaced regret and anger about the past. In truth, it’s easier when you are in a beautiful place with great weather and less chaos, but I remind myself that it was me who made the move; it was me who said to myself life can be better if you choose to make it so. And so, I am trying to just enjoy what I have created for myself.

    There is a push and pull, the yin and the yang I guess. It’s called balance; the weighing out of the things I need to consider:  money, obligations, insurance, goals, language, and so on. I cannot just overlook or discard all of that. I need to stay focused and balance living in the moment with insuring that there are more moments in the future. Easily done? I’m not so sure. This exercise is a reminder to me that time is precious and cannot be wasted; every moment counts in so many ways, for so many reasons.

    A friend of mine recently lost her husband unexpectedly; no warning, no preparation. When these things happen to people we know, it’s like the proverbial slap in the face or as Cher said in Moonstruck, “Snap out of it!” We cannot ignore the fact that at any given moment time might be swept out from under us. When I rest my head on my pillow at night before I close my eyes, I like to think about the day and what occurred. I no longer say accomplished because I no longer feel that everything I do has to be the fulfillment of a goal. There was a point when I was so driven I had to do lists that were broken down according to subject matters and often, I would lose track of where my lists were stored:  computer, journal, desktop notepad, under the refrigerator magnet?

    Future Mother-in-law Story

    It was New Year’s eve and my partner and I had just hosted a 90 person party in our Brooklyn apartment. It was 1:30 a.m., most of our guests had already said good-bye and the few guests that remained were lapping up the spoils. Most of them were unaware of a conversation taking place in our living room. My future mother-in-law had been staying with us for several weeks. She had travelled from Spain on an extended holiday; a bit longer than I would have preferred I’m afraid. She spoke no English so my partner had to interpret everything she said to me.

    Let’s call her Sofia. Sofia looks over at me across the room and says, “Chris, si supieras que solo tienes 24 horas de vida, ¿cómo quieres pasar ese tiempo?”

    I looked over at my partner who translated, “She wants to know how you would spend your last 24 hours on earth.”

    I had just spent a week preparing for a huge party and I was about four cocktails in. I wasn’t sure why Sofia was asking this question, but I was always polite with her and decided to play along.

    “I would want to spend it in your son’s arms,” I replied.

    “Entonces, ¿por qué no te comportas como si fuera tu última noche en la tierra?”

    My partner chuckled (he too was feeling pretty happy at this point) and said, “She wants to know why you don’t act like it’s your last night on earth.”

    The lady could be intense, but this was way too heavy for this particular hour, on this particular night. I shrugged it off.

    I awoke a few hours later troubled by this conversation. Why did Sofia say this to me? She obviously had an agenda. I didn’t want to ask her because I was certain it would open Pandora’s Box and I didn’t want to go there with her. We were approaching the end of her stay and I thought it best to say goodbye on good terms. I kept it to myself for the next 48 hours. We put Sofia on the plane and I brought up the conversation on the way home from the airport.

    My partner rolled his eyes and said, “I was wondering when you were going to ask me about what my mother said.”

    At this point in our relationship there was a good deal of tension between us and any little thing would create an argument. This disagreement was a doozy. He essentially told me that his mother felt that I was taking him for granted and that if I wasn’t careful I would end up with regret and loss. In other words, he would leave me. I, indeed, was guilty of taking him and time for granted. I was assuming that we would be together forever and that we had an endless amount of time left.

    In fact, we only remained together for a month or so after the new Year. I was immature and unworthy of his love and affection and it ended. What I learned from my mother-in-law that was not to be so named, is that I went about living life as if my time on earth was endless. I needed to pay more attention to the gifts around me. I needed to be more aware of the finite amount of time I have. And, I needed to live life as if every moment might be my last.

    Easier said than done as we all know. However, it is important to keep our mortality and the delicacy of life in our thoughts as we carelessly go about our lives.

     

    “For what it’s worth: it’s never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. There’s no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you’re proud of. If you find that you’re not, I hope you have the courage to start all over again.”
    ― Eric Roth, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button Screenplay

     

     

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  • Running From Demons — Part II

     

     

     

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    Photo by Nicolas Postiglioni on Pexels.com

     

    Greg was feeling confused, let down, lonely and lost; all new for him. He  reminded himself that he had confided in someone. One person who would never come looking for him and never tell anyone. His ex-wife Sarah hated him, but she would protect Greg to his death. Twelve years of marriage had tied them together forever. He considered calling her to tell her he was about to become someone else. A part of him wanted her to know so that no matter what, there would be one person alive who knew the truth. Greg also knew that he’d be putting Sarah in danger by sharing his whereabouts. He had always admired her strength and tenacity; despite his better judgment, he’d give her a call tomorrow. For now, he had to get back to his room.

    He meandered through the streets of Lisbon, ducking in and out of crowded cafés. He needed to return to his hotel room before 5:00 p.m. or he wouldn’t get the money to Slim in time. He realized he’d never know the names of these characters who were helping him. Greg had no choice then to give the guy what he asked for.

    He counted out the $10,000 and wrapped the bills in a plastic grocery bag. Slim had asked for Euros, but he figured he’d take dollars; everyone wanted U.S. dollars. The exchange rate had never even occurred to him. He quickly wiped down the room with some disinfectant wipes he found at a store on his way back to the hotel. He hoped that he’d only have to spend one night in this filthy room. Greg locked the door and checked the knob twice.

    He looked around the outside of the hotel to be sure he had not been followed and headed for the pawn shop. Pawn guy and Slim were watching the game when he entered the shop. He smiled and handed Slim the money. Slim did not smile back; he grabbed the bag and headed to the back room. Ten minutes later he returned looking extremely unhappy.

    “I told you Euros. What am I going to do with your fucking dollars? You have any idea what the exchange rate is these days? This is 25 percent less than what I told you.”

    The last thing I needed was to piss this guy off, but it occurred to me that it was time to play hardball.

    “Take it or leave it. You’re not the only guy in Portugal with access to passports. I’m paying you more than enough. Give me back my money if it’s not good enough.”

    Slim studies Greg for a solid minute. Pawn guy never takes his eyes off of the game. Slim motions Greg into the back room. Greg reluctantly follows, thinking perhaps he’d gone too far. Slim gets uncomfortably close to Greg’s face and whispers,

    “Considering where you’re going, I guess I can settle for less.”

    “What do you mean, where I’m going?”

    “The best I can do is Morocco.”

    It was like he’d been punched in the stomach and kicked in the head. He had to choose his words carefully or this wouldn’t end well. It was Casablanca or he’d be back at square one.

    “Is it ready now?”

    At this point Slim is incredulous. “Are you fucking crazy man? Tomorrow morning if you’re lucky.”

    Greg turned around so he couldn’t see his rage and disappointment. He pulled it together and walked toward the door. He turned and spoke and his words were sharp.

    “I’ll be back at 11:00 a.m. tomorrow. If my passport isn’t waiting for me, there will be hell to pay. My connections in the States are not as forgiving as I am.”

    Greg was so pissed off he’d forgotten to lose himself in the dinner crowd filling the streets. He stopped off at one of those international calling stores to telephone Sarah. The shop was packed with women in Hijabs, reminding him that he’d soon be in Morocco.

    Sarah didn’t pick up on the first try. Not recognizing the number, she probably ignored the call. He hoped she’d realize it was him and answer the phone. He tried her again and this time she picked up.

    “Who is this?”

    “Sarah, it’s Greg, I’m in Portugal.”

    “What the hell Greg, I told you to leave me alone. I’m gonna hang up.”

    “No, no Sarah, please just give me two minutes. I’m not asking for anything.”

    “Ninety seconds and I’m cutting you off.”

    He’d be the worst husband and didn’t deserve ninety seconds. When they met, Sarah was naive and sweet and he’d made into a bitter woman. Greg didn’t cheat on Sarah. He didn’t physically abuse her. He didn’t stop her from buying things; he didn’t tell her she was worthless. What he did was inexcusable; He spent every penny Sarah had saved since she had her first job. There was always that business that was going to make them rich. Greg would focus on that next scheme and forget the rest of the world existed. It was a reckless way to live and he knew it, but he couldn’t stop himself. She watched him destroy his own life and take her down with him. Greg’s parents, friends and anyone he did business with tried to stop him, but he didn’t see it — he only saw green and more green until all the green ran out and than all he thought about was a way to get more. Sarah was the only one who stuck by him, until she’d had enough.

    He knew that someday Sarah would be a force to be reckoned with, but today, she was done. He tried to soften her up a bit.

    “You know how much you mean to me Sarah?”

    “Greg, you asshole, you told me you were not going to ask for anything.”

    “Alright, I only have a few seconds left so let me say something I need you to remember. As of tomorrow morning, I will no longer be Greg Torino. I’ll be leaving Portugal and hiding out for a while. I’m not going to tell you where I’m going because it’s better for you not to know. I don’t know how long it will be before we speak again so I wanted to tell you that I know I was a shitty husband. I never meant to hurt you, but I know that I hurt you badly and for that I am sorry. I hope to someday make it up to you Sarah. You’re a good woman and I never deserved you.”

    “Greg, you didn’t have to say any of that, but for the first time in your fucking wasted life, you’re right, you were a shitty husband. I would wish you luck, but that would be a stretch.”

    “Goodbye Sarah, I love you,” and he hangs up the phone.

    He realizes a woman is banging on the phone booth door and trying to get his attention. He can only see her eyes and her fist pounding the glass. He turns away to wipe away tears. Greg cannot recall the last time he wept. He leaves the booth and walks toward his new life.

    When he wakes the next morning after a fitful sleep, he recalls his conversation with Sarah. He feels good about apologizing; she deserved some closure and he was finally man enough to give it to her. He felt a little stronger and more resolute. He’d make a life for himself and perhaps someday he’d find a way to forgive himself as well. For now, he had to see if his passport was ready to be picked up.

    Knowing that was his last night in that stuffy room made him smile for the first time in days. He locked the door and headed to see Slim. As he was leaving the hotel he notices someone watching him from across the street. He remains still for a moment to see if the man continues to look over at him. When he casually glances back that way, the man is lost in the crowd of street traffic. He wishes he’d left the hotel earlier; he’s made too many mistakes. He shrugs, chalks it up to paranoia and walks toward the pawn shop.

    Greg immediately notices that Slim is not there. Pawn guy comes out of the back room and approaches Greg.

    “He’ll be right back — you wait here.”

    Greg doesn’t like it, however once again he’s at the mercy of these bottom feeders. He sits and considers his past. He has always been a near-do-well, but he wasn’t a crook.  He’d never stolen from anyone or cheated anyone. He had taken a lot from those he loved, but he always asked for it. He had cheated himself out of a decent life. He could have had so much more than what he ended up with.

    It’s twenty minutes before Slim walks in with the passport. He barely looks at Greg and offers no apology. Greg asks him if he has the passport. Slim takes it out of his jacket pocket and hands it over.

    “I’d leave the country soon if I were you.”

    I’m confused about the sense of urgency. I thought I would spend some time traveling around Portugal and Spain before going to Morocco. After all, I had years of hiding in front of me.

    “It’s not safe here for you,” Slim adds.

    Greg grabs the passport and opens it to see who he is. He checks out the photo first; that’s fine. He thinks to himself, this looks pretty real. He’s not sure he likes the name Joseph Campos.

    Slim says, “You have Spanish relatives; it’s a good name — suits you.”

    At this point Greg just wants to get out of the shop and away from these lowlifes. He thanks Slim and gives a thumbs up to Pawn guy.

    He decides to leave the hotel with the money he has left and head for Morocco where he can blend in with the locals. He’ll book at flight to Casablanca or Marrakesh at the airport, pay with cash and start fresh. He realizes he’s smiling again, having been resourceful enough to accomplish his first big task. Greg finds himself almost giddy with excitement. He feels lighter and hopeful.

    When he gets back to his hotel, his smile disappears. He finds his door ajar and there is no one in sight. He enters the room and everything is turned upside down. He goes right to the dresser which is on its side. His stash is gone. This is exactly what he feared might happen. Greg’s only thought is now what and he falls to his knees.

    To be continued next week

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • Running From Demons — Part I

    Unlike any of my previous blogs, this is a work of fiction.

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    He gazed out the window of the 757 and could think of nothing save what he was leaving behind. He pondered how many people he had hurt and how much of his life he had squandered. Greg had never been one for remorse. He plowed through life showing little or no concern for anyone but himself. The world was fucked up and until now, he was going to grab his piece of the pie in whatever way he could get it.

    Having angered and alienated everyone who ever cared about him, he needed to escape to a place where no one knew him; Portugal seemed like a good place to start over. He exited the plane with a carry-on and his American passport. Walking toward Customs he worked up a sweat. Concerned about calling attention to himself, he ducked into a restroom to splash cold water on his face. Greg had $30,000 U.S. dollars to his name and it was all in his carry-on. If he were to be stopped, he’d be screwed. He knew about the cash limit, but he needed to close his U.S. bank account before his business practices caught up with him. That cash was all he had to live on until he could figure something out. Having gambled away his 401K, the tax penalties alone would wipe out any real estate equity he had in New York. His plan was to never have to deal with the U.S. government again.

    As he walked through Customs he smiled and avoided eye contact with the officers. To his surprise there were no documents and no papers to sign; he was going to like this country. He checked into a 50 Euro a night hotel in a questionable Lisbon neighborhood. He needed a secure place to hide his cash and a halfway decent bed. This was not the way he usually travelled; maxing out his credit cards was his usual MO and he couldn’t remember the last time he paid off any of his balances. Before long, the creditors would be after him too. He knew that he had no one to blame but himself. Still, a survivor survives and Greg was hell-bent on starting a new life.

    He sat in the dark in his small hotel room. He could smell the past and he could see that this was a place no one cared about. Finding a place to hide the money wasn’t easy. He lifted the dresser and taped the bills to the bottom. Clearly, no one had moved the dresser in years. Greg had avoided the bathroom, knowing he’d eventually have to use it. He was a bit of a germophobe and he had not had time to buy some disinfectant to wipe it down. He’d grab something at the market down the street. The overhead lighting was way too bright and the lamp was too far from the only chair in the room. He did a bit of rearranging and decided this situation was short-term and he’d have to let it go. At least he had a decent mattress and his room faced a small courtyard; at least he would have to listen to street noise.

    The first order of business was to get a new passport. They’d be able to trace him to Lisbon, but with a new name and a Portuguese passport, he could hide out in a small seaside town. The money would run out quickly, so he had to work fast. Finding someone who could give him a new identity wouldn’t be easy. He knew he’d have to part with some cash and make several changes to his appearance. Shedding some of that excess weight would help; he’d cut out the alcohol and the junk food he often ate on the run. He told himself that the new Greg would be healthy and more conscientious about his spending. He also knew he had to stick to his plan or he’d end up behind bars; an option he couldn’t fathom.

    Although he had never had to consider changing his identity, he recalled from movies that pawn shops were a good place to start. There happen to be one fairly close to his hotel and he didn’t want to carry cash further than he had to. Two thoughts dogged him as he circled the shop; would the language thing be an issue and how would he know who to trust. He knew how to read a poker face from his past and money talks, so he walked in and looked for someone to proposition. A short, seedy looking character wearing far too much cologne, came out of what appeared to be a back room.

    “I’m Greg, do you speak any English.”

    “A little.”

    “Are you the owner?”

    “What do you need.”

    “I need to speak to someone who can help me with some papers.”

    “What kinda of papers?”

    Greg was wondering if this was a mistake. He hated himself for not having a contact in Lisbon. He couldn’t risk sharing his plan with anyone in New York; he had too many enemies. He changed his tactic.

    “I’m Canadian and I lost my passport. I have time to wait for one from the Canadian Embassy and I was hoping you might be able to help.”

    Pawn shop guy gives him a half-smile and says, “Give me a minute.”

    The shop is a mess and he hasn’t seen another customer since he walked in. Soccer is playing on a big screen above the register and a mix of tobacco and cologne is making him sick to his stomach. He pretends to look around the shop, but he’s feeling anxious knows that he’s taking a big risk. Without an alternative plan, he waits.

    He hears the pawn guy on the phone and five minutes later, he steps back into the front of the shop.

    “Cinco minutos.” He walks over to chair, pats it and motions for Greg to sit.

    Greg’s thinking, I either bolt or I wait. He says, “That’s okay, I’ll stand.”

    Pawn guy shrugs and watches the game. Greg waits a good 45 minutes and in walks a very tall, very confident, very non-Portuguese fella. Greg thinks he might be a Swede, but he’s not certain. The guy walks right up to him, says nothing about being late, and asks:

    “Miguel tells me that you need something?”

    “I’m looking for a passport.”

    “A passport for you or a friend?”

    “A friend,” I say, thinking this is code.

    “Portuguese?”

    “American.”

    “I mean the passport.”

    “Whatever works.”

    “Good because I don’t think you speak Portuguese so it would be a little strange, yes?”

    “Yes,” I say, “I mean no, I don’t speak Portuguese.”

    “Ten thousand Euros cash and you can have it tomorrow.”

    That’s a lot more than I expected to pay; although it seems like a small price for freedom.

    “How do I know it’s authentic?”

    “Oh you want a guarantee too. That will cost you extra.”

    Slim smirks as he walks toward Greg. Greg backs up and reaches out with his six-foot long arms to grab his shoulder.

    “Look, I think I would have been out of business a long time ago if I couldn’t make this work. You either trust me or you take your business elsewhere.”

    Greg had done some shady things in his life, but none were as risky as this. He thought they might follow him and find out where he was staying. Well he could easily fix that by moving to a new hotel; an out-of-the-way hotel. He thought he might get scammed; could he trust a thief? He was confused and conflicted and what he really wanted was a drink. He was ten feet away from a bar and a scotch on the rocks; he’d have to ignore the temptation.

    His mind wandered to a situation ten years ago in Istanbul. He had hired an escort for what he thought would be a quick release. He ended up being chased through the streets and had to give up a gold watch and all of his cash. At the time he swore to himself that he’d stay away from the dark side. He’s broken that promise a number of times and he knew, he was about to break it again.

    “When do you want the money?”

    “When do you want your ticket to freedom?”

    “Give me an hour,” Greg needed a little time to think.

    To be continued . . .

     

  • Fear Can Hold You Back . . . And a Bit of Lagos, Portugal

     

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    I know fear is normal. We all fear many things and fear keeps us alive. At this time of self-reflection, I think it’s important to address some of my fears and question why I do not possess some of the fears I see in others.

    What I am hoping this process will accomplish:

    • Self-awareness
    • Coming to terms with what is real and what is irrational
    • Celebrating fears I have conquered and learning more about how I did it
    • Addressing the fears I avoid and learning more about why I avoid them
    • Developing a process for overcoming fears
    • Learning more about the connection between fear and human nature

     

     

    My fears seem to be deeply rooted in my childhood experiences. Without getting too analytical, many of my fears are connected to my mother and how I was raised. My mother had seven children before she was thirty. Her own complicated parenting made it difficult for her to show love and properly nurture her children; therefore, we were all shortchanged in one way or another. As a result, what I fear most is rejection. This is a common fear; however, it does unfortunately interfere with healthy relationship building. I find myself apologizing for just about everything; more often than not, for things that are either beyond my control or unworthy of an apology. What this self-flagellation does is create doubt in people’s minds. This behavior is misinterpreted as a lack of self-confidence and strength. Being aware of how this fear impacts my everyday life is helpful, but it is an uphill climb; fifty years of apologizing is a tough habit to break.

    Another big fear is also a fairly common one, the fear of failure. You might say that no one wants to fail and that would be true. However, all fears are attached to levels of intensity; how deep and strong is this fear. For me, the fear of failure has prevented me from interviewing for positions I was interested in, playing sports I enjoyed, taking courses I wished to take, pursuing romantic relationships, and the list goes on. When I did put aside my fear, I gained much from the experience. For example, when I completed my master’s degree, I hoped to further my studies. I dreamed of becoming a Dean of Students as a result of exceptional mentors in college; deans I admired and revered. I was in a fairly secure and comfortable position at Hofstra University and heard about an opportunity at New York University. The desire to live and work in Manhattan was so strong, I decided to pursue the NYU position and the university’s Ph.D. in Higher Education program, throwing caution to the wind. At that time, failure to acquire this dream was stronger than the possibility of failure to obtain the NYU position. Looking back, I recall many sleepless nights of self-doubt and fear. The outcome was a job at NYU and completion of my Ph.D.

    What helped me to conquer this fear, was an overwhelming desire to improve my station in life. Many of us are told that we will never be what we aspire to me. You know the verbiage, “You’re not smart enough; you don’t have the money to pay for that; they’ll never choose you.” People say these things to save you from pain and embarrassment. What is does is hold you back — it keeps you from pursuing your dreams and goals. At this point, your dreams have to be stronger than your fears. The only way to be successful is to concentrate on your dreams and push away your fears. There is a reason the old adage, one step at a time, holds up. Small successes lead to big ones. Land an interview and celebrate that success; it puts in the right frame of mind. Next, you get a second interview and finally you claim your prize. In may cases it’s a fight to overcome your fear of failure. I have played the worst case scenario game with myself throughout my life. I find that reminding myself that the worst thing that could happen, would not be the end of the world, made in easier to move forward. Sometimes, going forward rather than remaining stagnant is all that you can ask of yourself. We’re all dreamers; it’s more a question of how badly you want it and what you’re willing to do to get it. Remaining in your comfort zone is rarely the answer.

    The last fear I will mention is the fear of being incapacitated. I never want anyone to have to take care of me on a long-term basis (more than a couple of days). This fear is linked to my inability to ask for help when I need it. Friends have forced me to be better about reaching out. Family and friends have shared that it makes them feel good to help and that I should be better about accepting their help. I’m doing everything — or almost everything, I can do to remain healthy, but life can throw you a curve ball and this fear is real. I am currently in the process of coming up with a game plan so that I can rely on a “facility” to care for me if this were to happen. Leaving it to chance is not in the cards. I cope with this fear by taking control of my options and the outcome.

     

    Death

    I don’t fear death; I never have. I have always felt that when it happens, it will probably be fast and painless. Rational or not, it’s how I feel. I was in a bad bicycle accident a couple of years ago and I’m certain that when my body hit the pavement, there must have been intense pain. I couldn’t tell you what that pain felt like because my brain has completely erased it. Studies show that our brain protects us from severe trauma — shock shuts down certain body functions and we are not fully aware of the pain we are experiencing. I know there are many ways in which one can die; however, I’m banking on a painless death. The fear of dying keeps people from pursuing many dreams in life. I’ve been fortunate not to possess this fear. As a result I have jumped out of a plane, gone hang gliding, done some rock climbing, worked as a bicycle messenger in New York City, experimented with psychedelic and other mind opening drugs, and so on. To be clear, this is not to say I welcome death.

     

    What have I learned from this exercise?

    Plainly speaking, it is clear that I have a fair number of fears. Some have been conquered, some I’m working on, and still others are an ongoing challenge. I am okay with accepting that some fears will never go away. I told myself I wouldn’t say or think never prior to relocating overseas. I am willing to accept that some of my fears may remain with me until I die.

    I realize that I am revealing a good deal about myself in my blogs. Several individuals have written to me to tell me that it is helping them to be more honest with themselves. Seems like a win-win to me.

     

     

    Lagos with Friends from Cape Elizabeth, Maine

     

    Jim and Gillian Britt visiting from Maine. A beautiful November day at Ponta da Piedade. The sky really was THAT blue.

     

     

    Difficult to capture the true beauty of the place.

     

     

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    Tasca Jota— delicious suckling pig, Lagos