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Coming to Terms With Aging

Update along with additional content to 2018 blog

Could be me in 10 years

I tackled this blog topic five years ago; shortly after my relocation to Portugal. At that time my life was in a state of upheaval: the shutting down of my consulting business for an early, unplanned retirement, selling my home and leaving Maine, buying in a foreign country, saying goodbye to friends and family, losing Giorgio (my pet), financial instability, Trump’s America, and approaching 60. In general, gay men struggle with aging. The idea that my body was changing and that I was no longer a young man, hit me hard. My anxiety level and life’s uncertainties are reflected in my writing back in 2018. When I look back on my journal entries and my blog, I wonder if I could ever replicate that kind of strength; I was running on high octane. Today I am stable, secure in my decision to reside in Portugal, career averse, and feeling very much alive at 64. A look back and an update:

You Can Run, But You Can’t Hide

When I made the decision to leave the States:  my friends, my family, and my home; I also made the decision to leave some baggage behind. I’m not ashamed to say I have baggage; I’m fairly certain that all adults have baggage and lots of it. Coming to terms with getting older and losing my youth has been one of the most difficult challenges of my life. As with so many other things I write about, I know others share my angst.

I decided a while back that rather than ignore the inner turmoil around aging, I would face those feelings head on. I challenged myself to look in the mirror when I preferred looking away, to light heartedly tug on the sagging skin under my chin, to grab and hold onto my growing love handles; by doing this, I am fully embracing every imperfection. In truth, they are only imperfections because I identify them as such. I am learning that it is much healthier to just accept my aging body. To admire every line and to see the aches and brown spots as a reminder that I have lived a life. Not so easy. Often I take two steps forward and three steps back. I know that it’s a process and I am determined to conquer this challenge. I welcome your thoughts on the subject.

Update: Going to the gym five or six days a week is a very positive experience. My gym in Faro has a diverse clientele; all nationalities, ages and sizes. People are extremely friendly and save for the very young, I feel seen and accepted. Although I ache all over — not the case when I moved to Portugal, I mostly feel really good. I have accepted my aging body and I do what I can to stay healthy.

Quick story: there is this Portuguese guy at the gym whom I only know as a gym acquaintance. The day Trump lost in 2020, he approached me while working out on a machine, voice raised and veins popping from his neck. This is just some of what he said, “You must be happy now that Biden won the election. Maybe this guy will give you what you want. I don’t know why you people need your own fucking parade anyway. You make me sick.” I see him at the gym almost everyday. That which doesn’t kill you . . .

My new Mediterranean diet consisting of a healthy breakfast, a substantial lunch and a dinner snack (about a third of what I used to consume for dinner), is helping to keep my weight down. I sleep better because my belly is no longer full at bedtime. I have found that my body rhythms respond best to an early bedtime and early wake-up pattern. It also helps when I drink less alcohol in the evening. I find an occasional cocktail (twice a week), and a maximum of two glasses of wine, prevents the alcohol from interfering with sleep. It helps that my daily life is more stable and that the stresses of a career and a life partner are no longer factors. Having a healthy pet and a beautiful home, also contribute to a better life. But mostly it has to do with the work I have done in “cleaning up” my act. Getting rid of unhealthy relationships, accepting who I am despite my limitations, worrying less, and being grateful for what I have and where I landed.

Men are from Mars . . .

I don’t think it is sexist or stereotyping to state that this aging gracefully challenge is greater for women and gay men. Western society places a great deal of pressure on these two groups to stay young — the goal being to remain desirable. You have an inner ego voice urging you to walk into a room and be noticed. When this stops happening, and it stopped for me over 20 years ago, you begin to feel less than.

There are things I have done to convince myself that I am still young and vital. One of them is something many men with means do, gay or straight, and that is to buy a shiny new sports car. I’ve done this more than once and although it does actually help make you believe you are young and fetching, trust me, it doesn’t last. Another thing I have done is to shop and purchase clothing that is suited for a younger man. I actually wore skinny jeans for a few months last year, a truth I am not proud to admit. Thank goodness I came to my senses by summer. Why didn’t anyone tell me that it was very wrong? (This was five years ago, but still). I know that my friends and family members are reluctant to share their thoughts in fear of hurting my feelings or facing a defensive me — I assure you that I’d rather be gently slapped into a more appropriate conscious state.

When I Started Feeling the Effects of Aging (again 5 years ago)

I’m getting very close to being 60, so it may be difficult to recall when I started to feel the effects of aging. I remember when my hair started thinning and receding in college, I became very concerned about baldness. Although embracing baldness seems to be more prevalent these days, clearly society and the media place a huge emphasis on a full head of hair. When a person is described as someone who is getting older and letting themselves go, “fat and bald” are usually adjectives used in that description. If you yourself are bald, that seems somewhat derogatory. Now I know there are women out there that will say that they find baldness in men attractive. I believe that to be true because women are much less concerned with physical attractiveness and more concerned with character and other attributes — sorry for the generalization, but that’s been my experience (it’s what women tell me). And you gay men know what I’m talking about. Just go to a gay resort and you’ll see what I mean. Many men cover up their bald heads in shame or surround themselves with eye candy in order to feel better about themselves.

Then there is the “fat” part of that “fat and bald” description. We all know that it is more difficult to keep weight off when you’re older. Some reach a point in their lives when they can afford a nicer bottle of wine and a thick steak and then find themselves having to cut back on these things because they negatively affect their health; not just their appearance, but their overall health. I don’t have to tell you about heart attack rates, stroke, diabetes and other weight related illnesses. At a certain age you begin to think about the future and your quality of life.

Loss (new)

I lost a good friend this year; the first person I came out to and an individual I have loved and admired for over 40 years. Watching Angela succumb to cancer was difficult. She was always youthful and optimistic; a fighter until the end. Our fathers were both born in Puglia, Italy; my father adored her. Angela’s death has helped me to appreciate life.

As you get older, the losses begin to pile up: parents, friends, former lovers, former classmates, and celebrities you felt you knew and grew up with. Grieving is not easy; however, there is so much one can learn from the process. I’m not a religious man, but I do feel the presence of those I have lost all around me. They are cheering me on, boosting me up, giving me the strength to carry on with grace.

Slowing Down the Process

There are a number of people in my life who believe they have discovered the formula for keeping aging at bay. They take 23 supplements at various times of the day, they eat only fresh vegetables they personally witnessed being plucked from the ground; no bread, no carbs, no meat, no alcohol, no life! And then of course it is essential that they share their healthy lifestyle with us and convince us that they know better . . . “Well the experts said so.” I have always said that if I learned today that I would live five years longer if I never ate bread again, I would eat bread and die a happy fella.

“What helps with aging is serious cognition – thinking and understanding. You have to truly grasp that everybody ages. Everybody dies. There is no turning back the clock. So the question in life becomes: What are you going to do while you’re here?”

— Goldie Hawn

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Future Travel

Lyon, France for Christmas, South Africa land & sea in February, Iceland, Scotland, Norway land & sea in May, and Oslo, July 2024. Finally, a visit to the Puglia region of Italy in the spring of 2025. The United States in 2025 is likely: Brooklyn, Florida, Portland, Maine, Maryland, and North Carolina. I booked a Mediterranean cruise for October 2025; more about that some other time — it sails from Tel Aviv. I know you may not see it, but this is a much lighter travel schedule than the past.

Current State of Mind

I’m excited to spend Christmas with a good friend and her family in Lyon. I consider myself a very fortunate fella.

I normally hate photos of myself, but I looked at this one and thought: okay, this looks like me and I don’t mind it. Seven surgeries (not cosmetic), a couple of car accidents, a few tough break-ups, years of working with difficult people, the passing of several siblings and friends, and I’m still here.

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Triggers and Such

I Have a Few

What is a trigger in mental health?

In mental health terms, a trigger refers to something that affects your emotional state, often significantly, by causing extreme overwhelm or distress. A trigger affects your ability to remain present in the moment (healthline.com).

I was in the middle of writing this and I happened to see Hugh Grant being interviewed on a talk show. He was asked if there is anything these days that pisses him off (paraphrasing). He said, “There are so many things.” Having watched this actor go through some very difficult times, It felt good to know I am not alone. I suspect a few of you reading this will agree.

I’m going to start by stating some of the things that trigger me:

  • when people do not listen when others are speaking directly to them
  • when someone jumps ahead in line
  • lying, cheating, and deception
  • when I share how I feel or what I think and the person I’m talking to immediately gets defensive (I have to be careful because I sometimes get defensive)
  • when someone gets away with a violation of the law, when others have been severely punished for the same crime
  • when people do not pick up their dog poop
  • the revving of motorcycle engines (noise pollution; usually teenagers and usually when I’m reading)
  • when someone cuts me off while I’m driving
  • when someone pushes me
  • when someone yells at me
  • when google maps sends me in circles or to the wrong address
  • people who try to enter a train or elevator before those who are exiting
  • when I’m sitting at an outdoor café on a beautiful day and someone at the table next to me is doing something to ruin the experience (could be any number of things)
  • when government agencies deliberately use red tape to deter you from pursuing a benefit
  • when people talk during a film
  • when parents do nothing to quiet their screaming babies
  • when people speak loudly on their cell phones (especially on public transportation)
  • when salespeople try to tell me what I need
  • when doctors (or other professionals) are condescending
  • when someone drinks like a fish (or orders a Tomahawk) at dinner and wants to split the check
  • when young people take a seat on public transportation and then fail to offer their seat to those who need to sit
  • when an individual insists on talking to me about their religion even when I insist I am not interested
  • when individuals use a public restroom and leave it a mess
  • when someone comes to my house for a dinner party and says, “I meant to bring you something, but I forgot” or “I didn’t have time to stop.”

As I was typing, I realized my list is endless. I’d love to know about your triggers.

My Reaction to Being Triggered

I imagine that many of you will relate to how it feels to be triggered. It seems like it doesn’t take much to set people off these days. Lately, my immediate reaction to being triggered is rage. After the initial internal explosion of anger, I assess the situation. Is it safe for me to communicate my displeasure? Unfortunately, most people cannot handle feedback; therefore, I have to hold back. This has been true for past relationships and interaction with family as well. Baggage I have carried with me since childhood has had a big impact on my everyday life. The things that trigger me have remained fairly consistent; what has changed is how I react.

What Control Looks Like

If I can diffuse my anger and walk away, that is by far the best response. I take a deep breath and consider a healthy way to cope. If I’m on the road, I try my best to switch to soothing music. If the anger builds and I feel myself remaining tense, I pull over and sit for a while. If I’m on the street, I cross over to the opposite side. If I’m in a shop, I leave. If I need to buy something, I go to another part of the shop and wait a few minutes.

When I worked in an office I had no choice but to completely control my anger. Considering I worked in the same place for 16 years and I was promoted several times, I must have been successful at holding back. I recall walking to my office, closing the door, and taking several deep breaths. Ultimately I did lose my cool with my boss and then resigned a few days later; however, in all fairness, it was time.

I think when you can control your anger in the workplace, you should be able to do it everywhere else. If you find you have trouble responding in a healthy way, there are people and organizations available to help. I found that a life coach, was a life saver.

The Work

Ah the hard work that needs to be done — it ain’t easy. In order to prevent myself from becoming an angry old man, I need to be aware of my triggers and work on my reaction. I need to react in a healthy way, without the help of substances. Here’s the plan:

  1. The first thing I need to do is choose healthy responses to most situations. Create a tool box with tools I can call upon.
  2. I need to practice with someone I trust. I need to be fully present.
  3. After I try a response, I need to assess the success of said response. Did I remain calm? Did I carry the anger with me all day or night? If I was able to diffuse the anger, what did I learn from it?
  4. Repeat, repeat, repeat, until a successful response becomes my go to in the future.
  5. Do a regular check on where I am with anger control.
  6. Congratulate myself for making progress and learning new behaviors.
  7. Ask people I trust, how I’m doing.

One needs to also keep in mind that some amount of anger is healthy — it’s good to feel rage, so long as you can control it.

What I Strive For

Ultimately, I’d like to be nonplussed by my triggers — I’d like to stop caring as much as I do. For example, I witness someone leaving dog poop on the street and I either pick it up myself or turn the other way. No lingering anger or resentment, just acceptance and a version of indifference.

I don’t want to be “that guy.” That guy who pisses and moans about everything; that guy who is labeled “negative;” that guy who doesn’t see the good in things or people; that guy with a short fuse; that guy who doesn’t care about anything. I want to be known as easygoing and sexy (just wanted to be sure you were paying attention).

I observed a person I was spending time with yesterday, being triggered several times. I observed several passive aggressive responses to their anger. A great way to learn how not to respond. Nobody likes the tension caused by this sort of reaction. This is why Karens are unpopular.

Please feel free to subscribe. Add your email and my blog will be sent whenever it’s published.

Future Travel

Lyon, France for Christmas, South Africa land & sea in February, and Oslo, Norway, July 2024. Finally, a visit to the Puglia region of Italy in the spring of 2025. The United States in 2025 is likely: Brooklyn, Florida, Portland, Maine, Maryland, and North Carolina. I booked a Mediterranean cruise for October 2025; more about that some other time — it sails from Tel Aviv. I know you may not see it, but this is a much lighter travel schedule than the past.

Current State of Mind

I’m having my wood floors refinished next month and it will be a big mess (I don’t like messes). In anticipation, I am taking it easy and keeping plans to a minimum. I know that my life will be turned upside down for at least a week in mid-January; therefore, I’m enjoying the holiday season and the quiet that I am experiencing now.

Namaste
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All Kinds of Friendships

Who are your true friends?

I asked this question a couple of years back, however, this question has become so much a part of my present life, I thought I would revisit it. The holiday season is a good time to evaluate your relationships and make healthy changes. Friendships are as important as any other relationship in your life.

Friendships come in all shapes and sizes and it would be difficult to share my thoughts on all of them; therefore I will focus on just a few. The following five types:

  1. A life partner
  2. A close friend
  3. A sibling
  4. Your parent as friend (being childless, I do not feel equipped to write about this matter from the parent’s point of view)
  5. A co-worker

My close friends are extremely important to me. I hold these friends near and dear and would do just about anything for them. Admittedly, there are times I’d also like to string them up, and well, you know. The friendships I cherish the most were established many years ago, but having said that, I do have several friends that I only met over the last few years. Nearly six years ago, I left a state I resided in for less than five years; yet several of my close friends live in Maine. This was a pivotal time in my life and a couple of people showed up for me.

You can gauge some friendships by communication (although some friends are better than others at this). When I moved overseas, there were individuals I expected to never hear from again and some that I thought would communicate regularly. As with many things in life, what I expected, has not panned out. Several people I thought would reach out, never have; others that I thought were acquaintances have been great about staying in touch; some even traveled to Portugal to see me. Some people work hard at developing friendships and their persistence can pay off. These days you have to factor in social media, because it doesn’t take much effort to drop a line or two. I truly miss the days of letter writing; writing a letter took time and thought . . . now we text.

The pandemic shed a new light on close friendships; I’m fairly certain a couple of my friends saved me from myself during lockdown. What did we do before Facetime, whatsapp, and Zoom? I regularly shared meals with single friends from the U.S. during lockdown and it made eating so much more fun.

To be clear I am not writing about acquaintances:

acquaintance/noun            

2. a person one knows slightly, but who is not a close friend. “a wide circle of friends and acquaintances” synonyms: contact, associate, connection, ally, colleague

I am certain you all have acquaintances; if you had an expectation that they would all be close friends, you’d be extremely disappointed . . . and so would they.

I’ve spent a lot of time differentiating close friends from acquaintances this past year. It’s been so much better for my emotional well-being. My expectations are always off-the-charts; therefore, sorting out who my true friends are was/is a good exercise for me. I find it interesting that some people believe they should be considered a close/good friend.

Invest your time, energy, and love, when you have someone in your life who is also invested.

Friendship with a Life Partner

This type of friend is quite unique due to the intimacy factor. Once you have been intimate with someone (and I don’t necessarily mean sex), it’s a game changer. I’m talking about a deeper emotional commitment where there is love and affection. Hopefully, because it matters if it’s true or not, you and your partner have shared moments, where at the time, you cannot imagine a deeper connection. Whether it’s a secret or a thought or a revelation, this kind of sharing creates a bond that can and often does, last a lifetime.

Even when there is a breakup, this close bond will ensure a lasting friendship — if you allow it to happen. Unfortunately, new partners are often intimidated by this kind of friendship and will not tolerate it. If you’re able to see past the jealousy, permitting your partner to be friends with ex-partners can enhance a current relationship. Your partner will see you as open and caring and trusting — all wonderful thoughts about your partner.

Keep in mind that none of us can be all things to all people. Your partner has limitations and expecting this individual to meet all of your needs is unfair and impossible. This is why it is dangerous to not have close friends outside of your relationship. Lean on others occasionally, it will make your relationship lighter, freer, and healthier.

Also, if you are outside of a relationship looking in, what you see from the outside is not always a complete picture. Couples have their own way of loving one another. Aside from physical and emotional abuse, which is never good, disagreeing and gentle prodding can be the sign of a healthy partnership. But do we ever truly know?

I feel fortunate to have an ex who has become a good friend; someone I can talk to, travel with, and rely on. He knows me better than just about anyone else. He can call me on my shit and do it without offending me and I can do the same (I think). Knowing there is someone you can call and they will show-up for you, means everything. It wasn’t easy getting here, but it certainly was worth it.

On the other hand, I had an ex who stopped communicating with me except for a birthday message or a quick reply to a text. I wrote to him to let him know that I felt he was not invested in our friendship. He failed to reply, which spoke volumes. I decided to spare my feelings, therefore, letting it go. I have felt a great deal better since making that decision. I’m not sure what exactly happened there, but since he decided not to share (typical for him), I have to assume he was not and is not invested. Time is too precious to waste it on people who are ambivalent or uninterested in a future with you.

A Close Friend

Your best friends (yes I believe you can have more than one) deserve a category all their own. Because we all know that if you have a life partner, that individual cannot and should not be able to fulfill all of your needs, emotional or otherwise. A close friend can provide an outlet for sharing and a different kind of important intimacy. It can be someone to talk to about your life partner or boyfriend/girlfriend (finding the right pronouns isn’t easy). With a close friend, no topic is out-of-bounds.

A close friend will often know you are in distress even before you know it. This person will be there to help you get through whatever difficulty you are experiencing. Refusing the help of a friend or pushing a friend away is never a good thing. A true friend is a beautiful gift and you can be sure that this person sincerely wants to help. Let this individual know that you appreciate that they are there for you and that you need them and want their love.

I like my privacy and I tend to grieve when I am by myself. A good friend will always allow you “alone” time. If you gently let your friend know that you just need a little time, they will give you what you need.

Caution:  Be careful to make sure that sharing is reciprocated. There is nothing more annoying than a friend who only wants to discuss his or her own woes. Ask questions; show genuine interest and it will elevate the friendship.

Also, do not abuse the generosity of a close friend. Leaning on someone in a time of need is fine, but pick and choose when to lean. Being a constant burden will make a friend second guess the sincerity and value of the relationship. We are only human and all of us have a threshold. Keep your relationships strong by being considerate, nurturing and compassionate. Communicate your needs; assuming your friend knows, is an unfair assumption.

A Sibling

Who knows and understands you better than a brother or sister? Unless you were raised in a different kind of household or there are many years between you and your sibling, this person can be a very close friend. I should not rule out a half-brother or sister who is a great deal older or younger. I had a half-brother who was 20 years older and before he passed away, we became very close. He was actually as much a mentor as a friend. I could share anything with him and he “got” me. The relationship was different from that of a parent because he didn’t feel the need to discipline or direct my behavior; it was all about the freedom to be who we were. It is strange to say this, but even though my brother has been gone for quite a while, that relationship/memory has only gotten stronger. It has taught me that death can be the continuation of a beautiful friendship, however, on a different level.

A sibling who doesn’t judge you, who accepts you for who you are and who provides a level of trust that is achieved in no other relationship, is a treasure to hold dear. I’m a lucky guy because I have a number of siblings I consider close friends.

Your Parent as Friend

It’s not easy being friends with a parent. Very few people I know are friends with their mother or father. When you are young, your parents are disciplinarians and when you get older they want what’s best for you and that often causes conflict. Being friends with your parents can be fulfilling. Practicing patience and forgiveness is key. If you keep in mind that your parents want what is best for you because their love for you is strong, you can be very close friends. You can confide in your parents, you can lean on your parents and you can usually trust your parents. Having a sit down after a disagreement can help both parties achieve a higher level of trust and understanding.

Of course there are always exceptions. My mother always told me that everything was her fault. She’d say this with a half-smile, “Chris, save yourself money on therapy. I am to blame for all of your issues. Yell at me, lash out, be mad; then know how much I love you and move on.”

She was a smart lady, my mom.

Friendship with a parent can go through stages of strength and at times this strength may waiver and that’s okay. Keep in mind that your parents won’t always be around. Bringing you into this world and keeping you safe are not easy tasks to manage. They usually want your friendship and they usually earn it.

I had a deeper friendship with my father; I’m not sure why that was, but what I do know is that it came naturally. There was no judgment, only support, compassion, and sweet memories. The loss of that friendship is felt almost every day. Still, I feel fortunate to have had that friendship for the first 41 years of my life.

A CoWorker As Friend

This can be an incredibly satisfying relationship because you often share so much in common with a coworker. When you’re together socially it can be fun to gripe about your hours or your boss or your salary or your work environment or your benefits or your coworkers or all of the above.

Careful what you say and to whom at work; a true friend will be discreet and he or she will keep what you tell them to themselves. Such a friend is not easy to find; when you do, try your best to hold on to them.

There are those who believe you should not become friendly or be friends with someone who is higher up or subordinate. I have never felt that way. I think as with most things in life, it depends on the person. If your friend is mature and trustworthy, you’ll have nothing to worry about. If others at work have an issue with who your friends are, let them know (in a kind way of course), that it is not really their business. Still, perception and appearance are both important considerations. Managing all of this at work can be challenging. I believe it all boils down to personal integrity. You know who you are. If you are honest, thoughtful and appropriate, you should have nothing to worry about. Always remember that at the end of the day, the only person you truly have to answer to is yourself.

Ending a Friendship

As it goes with all relationships, sometimes they go south. Of course it’s always better if you can repair the damage; however, that is not always possible. Some friendships grow toxic and if that becomes the case, I think it’s better to walk away. If you make that decision for yourself, it’s best to come clean with the individual. This business of just disappearing isn’t very fair to the other person and often, closure is necessary. Otherwise, you have this unpleasant, unfinished business hanging over you. That being said, this task is not easy.

I recently attempted to be truthful with a friend about a conversation that disturbed me. Her reaction was unfortunate, defensive and untruthful; she took no responsibility. I have broken my own rule and ended the relationship without stating my intentions. As I get older I am realizing the value of self-preservation and the avoidance of drama. Some people can not handle candor.

Call me a coward, but I often put my thoughts into writing and send an email or letter. This way I can be clear and provide the other person an opportunity to think about what I shared and respond. You can tell a great deal about a person by the way they reply. If they become very defensive, angry, and lash out at you, it validates your decision. If the person sincerely apologizes or asks to see you, it shows that they value your relationship and that they would like to patch things up. I find that the other person often feels the way you do and the friendship will come to an end. If you can work through it as mature adults, you’ll be happy you did the work.

For some, my desire to shed toxic individuals will come across as cold and dismissive. I have decided that I only have time for friends who are loving, forgiving, true, and real. I value my time; I’d prefer that my relationships be authentic and fulfilling. Divorce, partner or friend, is never easy, but sometimes it’s the only healthy solution. Don’t judge others or yourself, judging makes life burdensome.

Politics

I could do an entire blog on friendship and today’s political climate, but if I were to dwell on the topic for more than a few minutes, I’d have to make myself a double.

When Trump was elected president, I was angry, upset, terrified, and disappointed, and I still am to some extent. I let family members know how I felt and some of them shared a version of this:

“Family always comes first and you should never let politics come between you and family.”

And that’s where we disagree.  If I know for a fact that you hated Obama as president because he is African-American, and that you consequently voted for a conservative man because he was going to undo everything the last administration did or that you don’t believe a woman can hold our highest office, then I do not want to be your friend and it is has undoubtedly come between us. Does that mean that I love immigrants (migrants) and medicaid recipients more than I love my family and friends? It does not; however, what it does mean is that I love my fellow human being and when I think about the one percent wealthiest Americans, the biased, the racist, and the greed of some politicians, I am always going to be sympathetic to the poor, the minority, the immigrant, the unemployed, the drug addict, and the LGBT+ community (not an exhaustive list).

Acknowledging the doors that were opened for you or the opportunities you have had that others have not had, will help you to be a more empathetic and giving person.

Reconnecting

Sometimes years go by and you do not hear anything at all from an old friend and then suddenly, there they are sending you an email or calling you on the phone (a call is less likely these days; texting is safer). You wonder of course:  1) why are you hearing from them now? 2) should you respond? and 3) if you don’t respond will you wonder what it was he or she wanted?

People lose touch with one another for all sorts of reasons. Often, time goes by and one feels reaching out would be awkward and often it is. Be open-minded; reconnecting may be the best thing that ever happened to you. I have had former friends I was upset with contact me and frankly, I couldn’t recall why I was angry with them in the first place. That tells me something: it might have been something very small and petty and perhaps it’s time to get past it. Forgiveness has enhanced my life in so many ways.

Please feel free to subscribe. Add your email and my blog will be sent whenever it’s published.

Future Travel

Lyon, France for Christmas, South Africa land & sea in February, and Oslo, Norway, July 2024. Finally, a visit to the Puglia region of Italy in the spring of 2025. The United States in 2025 is likely: Brooklyn, Florida, Portland, Maine, Maryland, and North Carolina. I booked a Mediterranean cruise for October 2025; more about that some other time — it sails from Tel Aviv. I know you may not see it, but this is a much lighter travel schedule than the past.

My Current State of Mind

In one word, “peace.” I feel very much at peace with myself and my surroundings. The weather is keeping the students from the high school across the street inside. There are very few tourists this time of year. I love the holiday spirit I sense all around me. Quiet = calm = peace.

I believe I might contradict myself here or there in this piece. That’s probably due to the inner conflict I feel about friendship. I value my friendships, but at this point in my life, I don’t want to work so hard. I know I’m not that easy to love.

I have been told that I am too sensitive. Perhaps I should own this label. On the other hand, perhaps the people that think I’m too sensitive, could be a bit more sensitive? Acceptance of oneself is key for happiness. I’m working toward the belief that I am enough.

I’m going to switch out “our blessings” with “the planet.” Happy Hanukkah!

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When Everything You Think or Feel Seems Trivial

The World’s Gone to Hell in a Handbasket (until now, I thought it was “henbasket”)

We all know about survivor’s guilt, something tragic happens to the other person and you’re guilt-ridden because it wasn’t you. This feeling can be debilitating and emotionally draining. Empathy is so strong for some of us, it prevents us from experiencing the joy we all deserve to feel.

What We See and Hear

Social media, television news, written media; 99% of it is negative and sensational. I’m not saying much of it isn’t true, but we all all know it is designed to spark interest, keep you riveted, and tap into your compassion for other human beings. What it also does is create a feeling of guilt and remorse. The heaviness we feel is created by this dark cloud of gloom and doom. It’s spiraling out of control and each of us has a responsibility to take back control. The alternative is far from desirable.

How We Process the World Around Us

When you look at news bites, it’s easy to see where racism, elitism, and nationalism lives. The amount of air time spent on Gaza versus a devastating flood in Kenya. The media is tapping into our darkest prejudices. It’s almost as if they’re telling us how to feel. I fight this internal battle daily: why do I care more about one tragedy over another? Why do I send money to some causes and ignore others? How do I change these deeply rooted biases?

It’s easy for me to understand my personal empathy toward gay youth or victims of domestic violence; when you have experienced it yourself, you hope that no one else will ever have to. However, we know that starvation is real even though you personally have never gone hungry for more than a few hours; we know that watching another human being die at the hands of a terrorist has to leave a person psychologically and emotionally damaged for life, and we know that a person seeking refuge in a place where every moment of one’s life is not spent worrying about personal safety, food security, and life-threatening illness, is valid and real; well most of us know. Where does concern for oneself end and compassion for others begin? I have a really hard time with the Kardashians deciding on a $300 pair of flip flops while children starve only miles away in Mexico. Is that anger a justification for my own complacency? There is no easy answer to these morality questions; however, we do have a responsibility to humanity and ourselves to at least try and make sense of it all.

Navigating the Future

I had to sleep on this one . . . for more than one night I’m afraid.

When I first heard friends saying, “I no longer watch the news,” it made me angry. I thought, how can you be so detached from the world around you? But now I understand why so many people feel this way. Putting aside disinformation, bias, unreliable sources, religious influence, polarization, etc. It is way too easy to be blanketed in negativity.

One of the things that travel accomplishes is the ability to see things for yourself. People throughout the world seek peace, harmony, and personal freedom. Governments, for the most part, have a different agenda; usually involving money and power. I don’t understand what motivates world leaders and I never will. I am not alone in my thoughts about this matter and what is happening all over the world is not new.

There is only one person you can truly protect and that is yourself. I have chosen to reside in a country where social democracy is the model for its citizenry. Although not perfect, it is more in line with my moral compass. If I’m going to be honest, I’m not sure perfect can ever exist where there are human beings. What empowers me is agency over my own life and the decisions I make.

Horrible atrocities will continue to take place around me each and every day. I am and will always be deeply affected by cruelty and unkindness. The best that I can do is to remain informed, be deliberate in my choices, give when I can give — when and where I can make a difference, and be kind to myself and others.

“What you do makes a difference, and you have to decide what kind of difference you want to make.“

Jane Goodall

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Future Travel

Lyon, France for Christmas, South Africa land & sea in February, and Oslo, Norway, July 2024. Finally, a visit to the Puglia region of Italy in the spring of 2025. The United States in 2025 is likely: Brooklyn, Florida, Portland, Maine, Maryland, and North Carolina. I know you may not see it, but this is a much lighter travel schedule than the past.

My Current State of Mind

I’ve been fighting a cold for the past week. It’s been 10 years since my last cold and I had forgotten how debilitating a cold can be. Unfortunately, health issues can mess with the mind and take you to dark places: death, heartache, pain, and almost always, the worst case scenario. I texted a neighbor to tell her that if I didn’t respond to a message after 10 hours, that she should key in. Dramatic or real? My worst fear is imagining Paco without food and water and having to defecate indoors.

The good news is that I am recovering. It’s easy to wallow in self-pity and try to wash away the suffering of others by bathing in substances that quell emotional discomfort. The purpose of this blog is to remind myself that tomorrow will be better than today; celebrating that change is where my focus should be. I cannot make the Israeli Palestine problem go away, but I can live my life with hope and joy, adding to a positive collective consciousness. I can experience the gift of life without beating myself up for being alive. As we remember the greatness of Rosaylnn Carter, the example she and Jimmy set of focusing on providing shelter with Habitat for Humanity, helps one to see that the donation of time, money and commitment toward a single cause can change the world. We need to also remember that before you give oxygen to the person beside you, you have to breathe in some for yourself — you can only help fix someone or something that is broken, when you yourself are repaired.

The holiday season is challenging for me; mostly anxiety linked to socializing. I want to be with others, but I cherish my alone time. I don’t think extroverts appreciate what introverts might be feeling. I’ve learned to set boundaries and be assertive. Still, there are just too many parties, dinners, and cocktails with friends for my comfort. I love the spirit of the season and the hope that it brings.

Please forgive any grammatical or typographical errors. Rereading my work is difficult for me. Thank you.

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The Benefits of Staying Put

Travel Weary and Fat

I took this photo atop a volcanic island in Ha Long Bay, Vietnam. My thoughts while Jane and I enjoyed this magnificent view: this is why I travel . . . I can’t wait to go home . . . when do we eat?

This was going to be a blog outlining my impressions of Asia, but I’ve changed my mind. Not because I didn’t enjoy my trip or that Asia didn’t leave an impression, it most certainly did. However, aside from travel to Cuba a couple of years ago that nearly did me in, my travels to Dubai and four Asian countries took more out of me physically than I care to admit. This blog is about the benefits of staying home.

Before you castrate me for whining about travel to exotic places, allow me to acknowledge that what I have is a first world problem. I am fully aware that many people cannot afford to travel anywhere, let alone across the world. This moral dilemma is an internal personal struggle that I grapple with on a regular basis. Trust me, no amount of charitable donations rectifies the problem.

Why I Have Always Felt the Need to Travel

When I was a little boy, my father took a trip back to his birthplace in Puglia, Italy. I remember begging him to take me with him. Dad was a blue collar working man with eight other children; I wasn’t going anywhere. When he returned from Italy, he painted a picture I thought about for years and years. It was decades before I was able to visit Italy to see it for myself. That travel bug has been alive and well inside of me; forever causing conflict in my heart and mind. Yes, I want to travel and yes, I want to be home.

Why I Want to Be Home

I have become a spoiled brat in my old age. I like what I like; removing myself from my comfort zone is anxiety producing. Cramming this 6 ft., 200 lb. body into an economy seat is no picnic. Two hours is uncomfortable, however, tolerable. Four to twelve hours is nearly impossible. By the time I reach my destination, I am achy, irritable, and suffering from permanent physical damage. I cannot help but ask myself why I do it.

Fortunately or unfortunately, the body has a short memory. That feeling of being lost on the outskirts of Istanbul with no Wifi, the exhaustion of 24 hours without sleep and multiple delays, paying $18 for a bad sandwich at the airport, having one of the wheels of your new suitcase break-off on the first day of a three week trip, starting a cruise with no luggage, waiting on a 90 minute passport control line when your flight leaves in 45 minutes. I’m not jaded, these are all facts.

Weighing the Pros and Cons

Random thoughts: these days, many of the people I love and enjoy spending time with, live elsewhere. I love food from places other than where I live. I have a very difficult time being away from Paco for so long. I need change constantly. I may be addicted to Hotels.com.

“Returning to my dreams was like returning to home after a long time of being away – everything was exactly the same as you left it, except infinitely better.”
― Aishabella Sheikh, Entwined

Returning Home from Hong Kong a Few Days Ago

The reason for my collapse when I walked through my apartment door in Faro:

A twenty minute walk through massively crowded streets to the train that links Hong Kong Central to the airport. Soaked in sweat, searching for a ticket machine that did not take debit or credit cards. Six hours at the airport waiting for the first leg of a three legged flight. Waiting for zone F to board the plane. Sitting on an empty plane for two hours in Bangkok while staff disinfected the area around me. Muscles cramping in the air for another eight hours. Wait hours to make a connection in Dubai. Make your way to the gate in an airport shopping mall the size of Wisconsin. Throw down a $23 cocktail. Wait until they announce zone F. Board an eight hour flight to LIsbon. Wait for what seems like forever to leave the plane. Pray for a short line at passport control. Wait in line for the 14th time. Take a train to the bus station. Search your bag for the phone you are certain you left at the airport in Dubai. Find your phone and nearly shit your pants. A jet lagged search for your Flix bus in Lisbon. Be told you’re not on the bus driver’s list even though you have a digital ticket. Wait off to the side until he sorts it out. Sit on a packed bus next to sixteen people all on speaker phone simultaneously. Too much cologne on scruffy men, horrible music piped into static filled speakers, vile food odors everywhere, three babies crying in unison, pull over a bus filled with 43 people so one guy can pee, finally reach Faro 32 hours later. Having Paco greet me at my door and thinking, I am never leaving home again . . . until the next time.

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Future Travel

Lyon, France for Christmas, South Africa land & sea in February, and Oslo, Norway, July 2024. Finally, a visit to the Puglia region of Italy in the spring of 2025. The United States in 2025 is likely: Brooklyn, Portland, Maine, Maryland, North Carolina and perhaps the west coast. I’ve done the east coast by train and bus in the past; this may be the best way to travel more comfortably.

My Current State of Mind

The best thing about being away from home for a long period of time, is coming home. Seeing Paco, sleeping in my own bed, returning to a reasonable amount of eating and drinking; all equate to bliss. Too much of a good thing is just that. I want the comforts of my little nest, in my little city, and on my own terms.

“I regarded home as a place I left behind in order to come back to it afterward.”
― Ernest Hemingway

Blogging

I blog for two reasons: first, and most importantly, to share aspects of my life that help reveal who I am, where I think I may be going, and where I want to be (psychologically and emotionally). Secondly, I enjoy writing more than just about anything. It is an opportunity to express myself and purge the clatter in my head.

Complaining is one of my favorite pastimes, but you should know, I am happier than I have ever been. Thank you for joining me on this magnificent journey.

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Taught to Keep it All Inside

Topic revisited with revisions October 2023

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My mother told her children that we had it better than most. She said that we should appreciate what we had because it could be far worse. We were not permitted to discuss our lives with outsiders under any circumstances. I didn’t realize why until I learned that other children were raised with love, encouragement, and hope for the future; we had very little of any of that. The love we got at home was twisted and divisive. Coming out was the least of my worries.

You hear a lot about people “coming out” these days. There are many incredible stories; each unique and compelling. I’m looking forward to a time when these stories are all in the distant past. I fear wide acceptance of differences is a far off reality.

My story was this: I hid my sexual orientation and acted straight, married a woman, kept it from the boss, had an awakening, told my sister first; she told me she already knew (as did everyone in my family), and so it goes. What you don’t hear is that when you’re gay, you don’t come out once, you come out again and again . . . and again.

Allow me to explain: I’m at a fundraiser sitting at a table with eight strangers. They have no idea who I am, where I am from, and what I do for a living — let alone know about my sexual orientation. We all make small talk to be polite. If I brought a female friend, she was automatically my wife. I am not being critical mind you, it’s a reasonable assumption. So one of the first comments is, “So how long have you two been together?” or “Do you have any children?” I’m wondering whether or not to tell the truth. If I stay silent or play along with the charade, am I doing a disservice to all gays and lesbians? We fought long and hard to be out and proud; if I stay silent, I am complicit.

When I am open and honest with people, I sometimes get these reactions:

“You don’t look gay.”

“I had no idea.”

“But you act so straight!” (Having worked so hard at acting straight in my teens and 20’s, this is my personal favorite.)

“If you were married to a woman, you must be bisexual.”

“Are you the man or the woman in a relationship?”

“Your lucky you are gay, because all gays are smart and creative.”

“There is this scripture from the Old Testament you need to hear.”

I have learned over the years that people can say some fairly stupid and insensitive things without intentionally meaning to offend (but they often do offend). I either nervously chuckle or ignore their words. Either reaction is not very honest, is it? What I would like to say is, “Now that you’ve made your bias clear, tell me what you really think about gay people?” And then go on to tell them what I think.

Let’s put it out there, have some dialogue. But, I don’t say what I’m thinking, I keep my mouth shut, remain silent and hope that the moment passes quickly. I do this because it’s what I was taught to do since I was old enough to comprehend life lessons. Adults teach children to keep the truth inside:

  • to spare the hurt feelings of others
  • to keep them out of trouble
  • to keep them safe
  • to keep children from sharing the truth about their parent’s lives (i.e., what happens in this family, stays with this family)
  • it’s the “norm;” that’s how we’ve always done it

I hid the truth until I was 28 years old; up until that point I worked hard to hide who I was from myself and everyone else.

Being honest, telling the truth, telling the whole truth, speaking your mind, sharing secrets, whistle blowing, and so on. They’re not the same things are they? Everyone seems to define “truth” differently these days. So when someone tells you that they are telling the truth, what exactly does that mean?

I should note that there have been times when I have spoken my truth and suffered the consequences.

The Truth Can be Painful and Consequences Can be Real

Having made a conscious effort to be honest has been fairly difficult at times. People say that they want to hear the truth when in fact, they cannot handle the truth. I acknowledge that my truth may not be someone else’s truth — for example, politics:  I may believe that our previous administration was corrupt and dangerous and others might believe that it was the best leadership we’ve had in a long time. This is a difficult debate because one will argue the facts which are fairly skewed these days, depending on the reporting. This kind of truth aside, deciding to share the truth with someone can put both parties in a difficult position. The truth can do irreparable damage and that is something you may have to live with. I don’t believe examples are necessary since most people have experienced what I am referring to.

Many of us make a conscious decision to keep the truth to ourselves in order to keep the peace.  The problem with this decision is that individuals who need to be told they have an alcohol problem, or that they are being psychologically abused or that their severe weight problem is killing them, will continue to talk themselves into a lie. I have a friend who told me that her doctor told her that it is better for her to smoke cigarettes because if she quits she might have a nervous breakdown. She’s told herself this lie so many times, she actually believes that it’s true.

Conventional wisdom tells you to hold your truth close to the chest; share it with only a select few that you truly trust, otherwise, you make yourself vulnerable — open to criticism. People will think you’re weak or flawed. I’m done with conventional wisdom. Do what feels right and either suffer the consequences or discover who your allies are; who is here to support you, love you, elevate you.

Coming to Terms with the Truth you Tell Yourself

A few years ago I found myself in a toxic work environment. Telling ourselves we are no longer happy at work, I believe it is one of the most essential truths we may have to tell ourselves. It’s very easy to become comfortable and feel safe in a toxic environment; after all, it’s all you know and the alternative might be too frightening to face.

Once you are able and willing to be honest with yourself about your career or work environment, change needs to happen and the old adage that “change is good” will prove true once again.

There are many truths we keep from ourselves:  failing health, toxic relationships, financial ruin, alcohol or drug abuse, missed opportunities, why having an affair is hurting many people, etc. Facing any and all of these life issues can be challenging; however, failure to do so will only mean future problems that could very well end up being insurmountable.

My Future and How I Intend to Deal with Truth

One of my reasons for moving overseas was to find truth. Life for me was becoming mundane and way too comfortable; I was choosing the path of least resistance nearly every time. I’m not referring to seeking the truth about our existence, what I’m trying to find is my own truth:  who am I, what am I looking for, and how do I find it?

I am aware that these are big questions and finding the answers is a lifelong journey. I believe the answers lie in self-reflection, self-assessment and shaking things up. Looking in the mirror can be difficult. If you look hard enough, you might see the truth. So many are reluctant to look because they’re afraid of what they might find. I’m not so much afraid as I am concerned. I’m concerned that I will not be able to change what I don’t like. For example, I learned a while back that I can be unfairly critical. I can hold people to a standard that is unrealistic and unfair. I don’t like this one bit. The question is, can I change it? I’m not sure that I can, but I have made a commitment to try.

Other lies I tell myself:

  • One more cocktail won’t hurt you
  • You can leave your bicycle helmet home this one time
  • It’s better not to put yourself out there because men are all slime buckets
  • Trump will definitely go to jail
  • You don’t have to cover your head from the sun today
  • You can eat whatever you want and work it off at the gym
  • You will know a bad person when you meet them

Being open about these lies is a good first step; it’s time to face them. My friends and family tell me I’m too hard on myself. I believe it’s an easy out — I don’t want to face my shit so I’d prefer you didn’t face yours. I’ll have none of that:  “the truth shall set me free” (to paraphrase the bible and that may be a first for me).

Future Travel

Asia land & sea is finally happening this week, Lyon, France for Christmas, South Africa land & sea in February, and Oslo, Norway July 2024. Finally, a visit to the Puglia region of Italy in the spring of 2025. The United States in 2025 is likely: Brooklyn, Portland, Maine, Maryland, North Carolina and perhaps the west coast.

Current State-of Mind

Two eye opening things happened this week; different, but thought provoking nonetheless. I took Paco out to a local café for a home cooked lunch. I discovered that if I get there early I can avoid smokers and high school kids. When I think about this today, I honestly feel like a bitter aging man — a sad state-of-being. I had a simple, but delicious lunch; as I finished, the students started pouring in. I could feel my entire body tense-up making leaving my best option. I was at the register paying the check. I reached into my pocket and my cash was gone. Before I could panic and a teenager tapped my shoulder. I turned around ready to mouth off and he handed me my money, which I guess had fallen out of my pocket. I immediately felt terrible for judging this sub-population of individuals. With one small gesture, my faith in the youth of Portugal was restored. It was a gentle reminder to shy away from jumping to unfair conclusions about my neighborhood tennagers. I need constant reminders.

The second situation happened here in my home with a contractor working on my floors. I had a vision for how my refinished wood floors would turn out. As the work progressed I realized what I wanted was not going to happen. I had to take a deep breath and accept a different reality — a reality I have discovered I am thrilled with. I truly need to be more open to curve balls which could be brilliant opportunities.

Please forgive any and all typographical and grammatical errors.

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A Letter to My 80 Year Old Self

Updated October 2023

This letter needed revising — you live and learn don’t you?

Dear Christopher,

2040 is not far away and I’m certain the world will have changed; just wondering how much? Technology (AI), war, cancer, viruses, politics, and climate change will undoubtedly be factors. The big questions seem silly to ask, but curiosity has gotten the better of me. What is the weather like? How many mutations of Coronavirus have been discovered? Is Ivanka Trump president? Do three individuals possess 95% of the world’s wealth? Who in your orbit is still around? How is your health and do people reach out to see how you are?

There are of course things I’m certain remain true. Those certainties that have stood the test of time: the fear of God and blind faith, every man or woman for his or her self (greed), stupidity, denial, illness, love, and Cher. Self-destruction of humankind seems inevitable; however, I can’t help wondering if that’s how you’ll go.

The planet has always gone through stages of birth, death, and re-birth; that is a constant. The big question on my mind is what lessons have been learned? Knowing that society’s changes are often temporary and uneven, I cannot help wondering how the billions of earth’s inhabitants are experiencing their current reality. How many billions are there by the way? As usual, I digress.

Allow me to explain my reason for writing. As a pragmatic cynic, I never had much faith in my fellow humans. I watched too many of my neighbors place plastic in the organic bin (one symbolic example) . It wasn’t that I wondered if they cared, it was more that I knew they didn’t. Unfortunately, that’s what age does to you — you’ve seen too much to hold onto senseless hope. Yes, there are rare exceptions to the rule. There are moments when you think that people have changed. But, as we know, history repeats itself and humankind makes more missteps than progress. Isn’t that what being human is? Anger, holding onto it, feeling it, conveying it; has always been an issue, I sincerely hope you are less angry.

You were always one to defend ignorance, therefore, I’m certain you’re spending more time defending and less time explaining. But are you mostly happy? Or maybe you’ve been around long enough now to realize that happiness is relative.

Knowing that you are a dreamer, there are some other things I have been wondering about: for instance, do you continue to care about what others think? I suspect you do. That was an elusive lesson no matter how much you tried to detach; proving that imprinting early on is almost impossible to alter. I’m hopeful that the effects of gossip and idle chatter have softened you over time. As your taste buds only get stronger as you get older, I’m hopeful that this consistent pleasure remains intact. I can’t help imagining that the walks have gotten longer and your bedtime earlier. The quiet of the morning hours become more of a comfort, as the messages from loved ones are more than likely, less frequent. I’m certain you expect less and long for even less.

Do you continue to allow people to hurt you? You’ve worked on letting go your entire life; knowing the toll emotional pain can take. How far have you retreated into your protective shell or perhaps you have learned to recognize that when people are hurting, they sometimes lash out at others to ease their own pain or hide their insecurity. “It’s not about you,” has been your most difficult life lesson.

What I hope for more than anything else, is that you have found peace. The ability to laugh at absurdity; find comfort in your tears. Also, that loss has somehow passed you by or that time has only taken those who were prepared to let go. I know that you often think fondly of Ashley, Giorgio, and Paco. The pets who taught you more about life and love than most of the humans you encountered.

If there is anything I can help you with as you get closer to death, let it be this: time is your most precious possession. Cherish time, forget regret, love yourself first, dance when you feel like dancing, sing anywhere you like, love without fear, embrace your authentic self, if the play sucks, walk out, do not give away time to those who do not deserve it and spend time with those who do. And for once in your life, do not allow guilt to control your heart and/or mind. Lastly, I hope you are celebrating that you’ve made it this far.

With hope, love and arrogance,

Your younger self

__________________________________________

I know this letter seems negative, but I read it differently. For me it says better days are ahead and lessons learned have softened the landing. I’ve experienced enough of life to know that you have to celebrate the highs and ride out the lows.

Future Travel

Asia land & sea, end of October/November, Lyon, France for Christmas, South Africa land & sea in February, and Oslo, Norway July 2024. Finally, a visit to the Puglia region of Italy in the spring of 2025. The United States in 2025 is likely: Brooklyn, Portland, Maine, Maryland, North Carolina and maybe the west coast.

Current State-of Mind

I spent a few days in Spain this week. One of my car tires blew out in a posh neighborhood outside of the city. I wasn’t in a hurry to get to a restaurant I had planned to go to, so I attempted to fix the problem on the side of the road. I’d never even heard of this green slime solution that supposedly seals the tire, allows you to fill it with a pump provided, and in theory, gets you to a car repair business. As I mentioned earlier, this is all conjecture. It doesn’t work if you have a blowout. I’m just glad I was in a populated place not far from my hotel. I was able to leave the car where the mishap occurred and walk back to my hotel. The next day my insurance rep told me to make sure to be with my vehicle by 9:00 a.m. He did mention that roadside service in Spain was slow; alas over three hours later a tow truck arrived. I have never had a vehicle of mine break down close to home. Perhaps this is why I opted to go vehicle-free for my first five years in Portugal. Cars can be a royal pain in the caboose.

I have to at least mention one highlight: I was in Spain on a Monday when most restaurants are closed. I ventured out on a walk hoping to find a place with decent food. I managed to locate a little tapas café where I saw locals drinking, but not eating. I think it’s safe to say that Spaniards do day drinking better than most other cultures (Portugal is not far behind). I walked in and this very pleasant middle-aged woman asked me in English, if I wanted a beer. I guess it’s obvious that I am American. I said yes, of course. I asked for a menu and she instead described what she could whip-up for me. She made me delicious potato croquettes as an appetizer and then I had braised beef in a savory brown sauce over frites. I paired the last dish with a Rioja. I left with a smile and a full belly. This is why I love to travel.

This is Maria. She asked me to take her to New York; it wasn’t right away, she waited until I was leaving. I certainly couldn’t fault her for trying!

Please forgive any and all typographical and grammatical errors.

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I May Be Boring . . .

But You’re Freakin’ Crazy

Before I get to the meaty part of this week’s blog, I wanted to report that I sometimes run the chosen topic by a select group of friends or one particular friend, to get their reaction(s). Today, several people told me that they didn’t understand why I consider myself to be boring. If I’m going to be honest, I think these people who happen to love me, are being kind and/or overly protective. I decided that if this is how I currently perceive myself, then it is my truth.

To be clear, I don’t believe I was always boring, but in fact, I’m very happy to be in my current state of dull, uninteresting, sometimes even anti-social being.

The Dilemma

Lately, I’ve been struggling with whether or not I want to be included in people’s plans. Being that I’m human, of course I’d like to be considered; however, on the other hand, as an introvert, being home in my drama-free, comfortable, quiet place is also desirable and appealing.

Stimulating conversation with intelligent people is quite nice. I learn things from others I may not have known otherwise . . . where to purchase things, restaurants I should consider, extraordinary wines to sample, opinions that make sense; the list is endless.

Why a Delightful Lifestyle for Me, May be Boring to You

I have a jazz club a few streets away from me. They have a Sunday program at a very civilized time slot, 6:00 p.m. I do not ever make plans with friends to go to the Club because I like keeping it open ended. On Sunday afternoon, I check-in with myself and if I’m up for a change of scenery and a bit of music, I walk down to the Club and enjoy the music for as long (or short) as I like. I love the freedom in that.

Lately, I’ve been feeling the same way about short trips away. It’s not that I do not want to be with friends, it’s that I love spontaneity — the ability to pack a bag at the last minute; not many of the people I know would join me (or can join me).

So What Does Boring Look Like

Is old age the cause or just knowing yourself better? You’re not old you say? Well hell, I’m certainly not young. I can ride the train for half price in Portugal.

You already know that I love the quiet hours between 4:15 and 7:00 a.m. It has become my time for refueling and sublime peace — the phone never rings, the park across the street from my apartment is empty (and safe); Paco loves running in the open grassy field, that first cup of coffee is liquid gold, and a few chocolate biscuits or crunchy granola and Greek yogurt, drizzled with amber Portuguese honey, all adds up to my own private nirvana. Is that boring? I suspect some would rather die than welcome the world at that hour; coffee or no coffee. Fortunately, we are not all the same.

Fast forward to dusk, a glass of red and the setting sun out on my terrace. The students who trample on my daylight hours are all gone. The trees in front of my building are filtering the last light of day, the Ria Formosa is glistening diamonds, and a movie is cued-up signaling my eyelids to droop, as I drift in and out of slumber. Boring or contentment? There is a huge difference between being boring and being bored; however, it should be noted that neither is deadly. I have covered the morning and night hours, what happens in between?

I leave the middle part of the day for socializing, knowing that being a hermit is bad for my psychological and emotional well-being. I need interaction with other humans in order to be able to savor the other parts of the day. People keep me centered and nourished; people make me laugh, question my humanity, force me to keep a calendar, and people will be there for me if and when I cannot make it on my own. People in my life are just as important as food and water and Paco and a comfy bed to sleep in. But people need to be reminded of their place now and then, so consider this your reminder. And thank you for being my people.

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I’ll not complain about your boring life, if you just leave me to mine.

— Elton John

I think I live such a boring life. But I can’t imagine any other kind of life, so I guess it’s the life I want.

— John Baldessari

Future Travel

Quick few days in Seville, Spain, Asia land & sea, end of October/November, Lyon, France for Christmas, South Africa land & sea in February, and Oslo, Norway July 2024. Finally, a visit to the Puglia region of Italy in the spring of 2025. The United States in 2025 is likely: Brooklyn, Portland, Maine, Maryland, North Carolina and maybe the west coast.

Travel definitely shakes up the routine, allowing me to eat dinner later, visit evening music venues, and sleep a little later in the morning. To be completely honest, sometimes I order in, prop myself up in my hotel’s comfy bed, and just enjoy a night without plans. The nice thing about traveling with a friend is the guilt they place on me — forcing me to experience the city or town I spent all of that time and money traveling to.

Current State-of Mind

I need to come to terms with the anger I feel about mufflerless motorbikes zipping around Faro. Paco jumps every time one of these bikes loudly races past my building. I can deal with so many city sounds, but this insanely loud, teenage boy ego prompted unnecessary noise, truly gets under my skin. I’m trying to think of an equivalent norm from my teen years . . . maybe gangs or souped up sports cars? I don’t recall any of it being as obnoxiously loud. Old man syndrome perhaps.

The invasive sounds I can tolerate: airplanes flying overhead, buses lowering themselves so that the elderly and disabled can board, ambulance and police vehicle sirens sounding so that cars can scoot over, children laughing, hedge trimmers, and dogs talking to one another as they pass on the sidewalk.

I’m trying so hard to tolerate the chaos and appreciate the silence. This ol’ boring guy just wants to find a way to navigate life without drama and/or the need to self-medicate.

Please forgive any and all typographical and grammatical errors.

Posted on by CP · 2 Comments

Do You Think You’re Better Than Anyone Else?

Do People Know When They Are Being Fake?

I chose this photo because I immediately judged the subject; Look at me, look at me, I’m different, I’m beautiful.” In truth, he (if this person identifies as a he), is probably just making a buck modeling and what’s wrong with that — this is my internal dialog around tolerance and acceptance.

A Recent Observation

I took a long walk to a trendy restaurant in Basel, Switzerland last week. I have to say, I definitely dig hipster food. Young up and coming chefs trying to stand out in a crowded field are showing up these days. Their food can be fresh, delicious, and creative; I want to eat it whenever I can. The clientele these chefs are attracting, can be horrible people — by horrible, I mean fake . . . pretentious . . . showy . . . ugly.

I observed a group in this restaurant in Basel and it got me thinking.

What I Witness All Around Me

I love the city of Faro for many reasons, but mostly I love it because it is a working class city that doesn’t pretend to me something else. For the most part, people live in modest homes and drive small, inexpensive cars. Buildings are not ostentatious and grander than they need to be. If you like places that boast garish, way too massive homes, more power to you — live there, play there, stay there.

Whether it’s where you went to university, where you live, the hotel where you stayed in Paris, your child’s accomplishments, etc., shut up about it and let people learn of those things from either asking you or from others who might boast for you.

Perhaps it was my upbringing; having been born into poverty and a city in decay, I don’t appreciate excess. It seems to me that a big chunk of humanity is biting off more than they can chew. At some point, the world will implode. Or perhaps climate change will wipe the slate clean.

Ask me about my travels, I’m happy to tell you about the two-star hotels I stay in.

The Best Thing About Being Retired

I do not have to impress anyone in order to make a buck. I cannot count the number of times in my career when I had to smile when I could vomit or listen to someone spewing nonsense when all I wanted to do was flee. Work socials, conventions, visitors to campus; so many insecure or narcissistic nobodies trying to be somebody. There were a few authentic and modest individuals I truly enjoyed being around, but there were more ego inflated buffoons who were legends in their own minds — celebrity chefs come to mind. Inflated egos are difficult to navigate.

Tolerating Fake People

We are surrounded by individuals who for one reason or another need validation by boasting about what they have or relying on people to tell them how incredible their lives appear to be. Social media has accentuated this in a perverse way.

Here are some ways to deal with these individuals:

  • Avoid them by going nowhere near where they might be
  • Buffer yourself by having a friend who doesn’t seem to mind them, sit right next to them
  • Say something like, “Oh I wish I had time to pay attention to such things, or I drove into that neighborhood once, but I was profiled by the police and escorted out.”
  • Stay quiet until you can no longer control yourself and then tell them to fuck off
  • Lead by example
  • Do what’s best for you and ignore the rest
  • Just be better

Do People Know What They Sound Like?

Humans have this uncanny habit of believing something to be true just because it’s been said a number of times; even if it’s an internal voice and even if it’s false.

I often wonder, while I’m listening, if people have any clue about how pretentious and ridiculous they sound? I wish I could say something right while they’re doing it. I believe that some of the people I know will read this blog and think, “I know people who brag about everything; it’s disgusting.”

I know that I have been focusing on what is real and true a lot lately. Why? The death of siblings, living on a budget (I hopefully have a few good years left and I’ll need groceries right up until the end — I worked in the education sector, not hedge fund management), having friends that are so ill they cannot leave their homes, aging, self-reflection, empathy, our current political landscape — it’s a combination of all of these living realities. Maybe pissing and moaning makes me feel better. I never want to feel superior; however, I do want to feel good, safe, and hopeful.

It’s a good time to remind myself that I am no better than anyone else. That includes you. I know that when I’m dead, no one will care about the car I drove or the size of my condominium — these things will not have defined or informed my life or character.

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Future Travel

Asia land & sea, end of October/November, Lyon, France for Christmas, South Africa land & sea in February, and Oslo, Norway July 2024. Finally, a visit to the Puglia region of Italy in the spring of 2025. The United States in 2025 is likely: Brooklyn, Portland, Maine, Maryland, North Carolina and maybe the west coast.

Trust me, it’s all done on a budget; no business class or Four Seasons. I should note that travel is a big part of my blog, therefore, I do not consider this section of my blog boasting. Let me know if you believe it is — always interesting to get your perspective.

Current State-of Mind

I have to admit that sometimes I’m pissy and I don’t know why. The weather is great, I’m seeing good friends, I’m eating well, sleeping well, my health is good, Paco is healthy; it’s all good, but I’m still pissy. Not all the time; it comes and goes and I refuse to take a pill in order to hide or mask it. Instead I just walk around trying to manage it.

Pissy defined: negative attitude, short tempered, difficult to please.

Maybe it’s the high school students revving their motorcycles on my street? Maybe it’s my ginger beer price going up 50% from one week to the next (I hate how business owners are profiting from inflation)? Could it be the dog shit I stepped in yesterday? Perhaps it’s friends who seem completely self-absorbed? Yes, it’s all of the above that is making me pissy.

Remembering Dianne Feinstein, who lived an exemplary life and served us well. Rest in peace Dianne.

Please forgive any and all typographical and grammatical errors. I hate proofreading and I often get crazy with commas.

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Missing in Italy

A personal story I posted several years ago — many of my readers have not read about this nightmare from my past. Sometimes I shake my head wondering: did this really happen?

Alma graduation photograph from their website (not ICA class)

I’ve waited for quite awhile to tell this story. It’s a rather sensitive matter, therefore, I will use fictitious names to protect those involved. There are people in this story who were supportive, sympathetic, and brave and then there are the rest. I should start by saying that the entire matter was surreal. As I went through the motions and experienced it, I felt as though I was on the set of a film shoot; none of it seemed real, and all of it bizarre. What I know for certain, is that it happened and it changed me.

Searching for a Needle in an Italian Haystack

It was an ordinary day at The International Culinary Center (ICC) in New York City when I received the call. At the time, I was School Director and Dean of Student Affairs. The year was the early 2000s. I had worked with others to create an Italian cooking training program in Italy. Students would start their training at ICC and then travel to Alma in Colorno, Italy for the final six weeks of their training. I had traveled to Colorno (by way of Milan) several times. Our relationship with the staff in Italy was solid and the student experience was exceptional. I was proud to be a part of a very unique cooking school experience. Most of the students were in the 20s and 30s; very mature and focused.

We did several rotations a year and enrollment was better than expected. I was the administrator-in-charge of the program; however, there were over ten faculty and staff members doing the real work of executing the experience. The cost of the complete course was close to $50,000 and because half of it was overseas, there were many moving parts. My father was born in Italy; in many ways, it felt as if I had come full-circle in my Italian heritage. While I worked with others to create the program, I learned a lot about regional Italian cooking, its rich history, and I got to try every dish taught. In addition, I was a proud judge during finals in Italy, on several occasions.

Francesca (her real name) was my contact person at Alma. What we were about to experience created a bond and lifelong friendship born out of a terrifying situation. Francesca’s call about one of our students in Italy, continues to make me anxious all these years later. There are deeply felt emotions that are never lost and never leave us.

“Chris, I need to tell you something, but I don’t want you to worry too much.”

My body tensed and I stayed quiet and I listened.

“One of your ICA (at that time we called the program Italian Culinary Academy) students has disappeared.”

Francesca was not an alarmist and she took care of nearly any incident on the Alma campus, so I knew this was serious. Sal was gone for two days and no one had heard from him. His passport and toothbrush were still in his room and there appeared to be no foul play. Administrators at both schools agreed that he had probably met a girl and he was with her on a sun drenched beach. Sal’s friends and classmates didn’t believe that was the case and this caused great concern. Apparently, there were witnesses to an argument outside of a bar the night before he’d gone missing; in fact, the last time Sal was seen. The argument was between Sal and several locals. Some students speculated that the argument was over a Russian girl from the bar, but no one was certain. Francesca and I agreed that Sal’s parents should be informed. She was also going to call the Colorno carabinieri (local police).

I quickly booked a flight to Milan, packed a small bag, and headed for JFK. Alma had a car pick me up in Milan and I attempted to rest my eyes and calm my brain on the 2.5 hour drive to Colorno. It had been 16 hours since hearing from Francesca and by this time, I imagined all sorts of horrible scenarios. Growing up in Brooklyn during the 60s and 70s made me tough, street smart, and terribly jaded. Film and murder mysteries didn’t help.

Riccardo (head of the school, also his real name) and Francesca met me at the school when I arrived. There was no news from Sal and everyone was thinking the worst. Sal’s parents were on their way from the States and Francesca was arranging their accommodations. Jet lag was helping make a bad situation untenable; my thoughts toggling between despair about what might have happened to Sal and dread concerning meeting his parents. A living nightmare and nowhere to hide.

Francesca drove me to the police station for a conversation regarding next steps. I sat with several carabinieri officers asking every question I could think of. Francesca was interpreting for me and I could tell she was exhausted and worried. The carabinieri would not confirm or deny a street argument or that there might have been a Russian girl involved.

After hours at the police station and talking with students, I headed for my hotel room to close my eyes. Francesca agreed to contact me with any news.

There was one particular bar not far from the school that was popular with the American students attending Alma. Colorno is a very small town and everyone knows everyone. There were rumors among the students a number of Russian woman were available for hire and that Sal might have owed money to one of the handlers of these woman. Administrators at Alma seemed genuinely surprised to hear that prostitution was taking place under their noses. My mind took me to dark place; imagining Sal buried six feet underground somewhere outside of Colorno.

Sal’s parents arrived the evening of my first day, however, they did not show up on campus until the following morning. By then, I had slept a few hours and I was more prepared to meet with them. Alma was very sympathetic to their anxiety and did everything possible to make them comfortable. Looking back, I was actually quite surprised by their calm and decorum. They too spent time with the local police. They also took several students close to Sal for lunch and tried to better understand where he might be.

At some point at the end of our first full day, we all met to discuss what we might do next — parents intentionally left out. Alma seemed reluctant to contact the press, for fear the school’s reputation might be harmed. I believe we were secretly hoping Sal would turn up on campus behaving as if he’d done nothing wrong.

As time passed, the street argument became more of a factor; all involved were called in and questioned by the police. The carabinieri were convinced that there was no there, there. I started to feel as if there might be a cover-up and Sal’s parents were skeptical as well. Although his parents and I were in communication throughout the day during early days of the incident, I felt fairly distant from them; detached. They were understandably frustrated, tired, and concerned.

On the fourth day, none of us believed Sal would just reappear. If he had run away with a girl or decided to bail from the program, he would have taken his passport at the very least. We were all fairly certain foul play of some sort had taken place. The Italian state police were brought in after Alma’s administration began to feel as if the local police were not doing enough. Word got out to the press and just about every local and regional news outlet was covering the disappearance. When word got out that an American student was missing and there was speculation that the Russian mafia might have been involved, a search party was dispatched and the rivers and lakes in the area were dredged. I silently hoped Sal would call us to say that he’d see the reports of his disappearance and wanted to let us know that he was fine and that he was sorry for all of the trouble he’d caused. That didn’t happen, but all I had was hope.

I wasn’t sleeping very well and couldn’t help thinking that this would probably be the last class studying at Alma. One incident, completely unrelated to the cooking experience could threaten the viability of a program we worked on for two years. The pubic relations machine at both schools was working hard to highlight how positive the Alma experience was and that this was an unfortunate one-off situation. Sal’s parents were angry that the Italian police and government were not doing more to locate their son; we were mindful that they alone could potentially raise enough concern to shut us down.

His parents decided that a trip to the American Embassy in Milan might help get the Italian government to take this more seriously. I regretfully volunteered to drive them to the embassy. They sat together in the back seat; Sal’s father consoling his mother most of the way to Milan. Over two hours in a vehicle with someone crying hysterically is not easy for the person at the wheel. I didn’t say much for fear of saying the wrong thing. I tried my best to be supportive and reassuring. I didn’t think the people at the embassy would help, but it wasn’t my son who was missing.

When we got to the embassy it was a well-guarded fortress. I dropped them off as close as I could get to the entrance and parked the car. Just as I arrived they were being escorted in. The guards told me that only the parents would be allowed. I called for Sal’s father and he walked over and apologized. He knew that I would be staying in Milan that night and flying back to the States the next morning. It had been a full week since Sal had gone missing and there was nothing more I could do in Italy. Sal’s father agreed to call me if they needed anything and we said our goodbyes. I felt very sorry for Sal’s parents and I was exhausted.

I recall making a call to Gary (real name), ICA’s president, that afternoon and becoming emotional on the phone. The fear of learning that a dead body was found was becoming more and more real. Gary, as always, was extremely supportive and grateful. He and the rest of the staff at ICC were hoping for the best. He asked me to remain calm and to get home safely. The administration at Alma was also very supportive and assured me that they would do everything possible to find Sal. I flew back to the States the next morning.

Time passed and still no word from Sal. His parents stayed in Italy for a couple of weeks and then returned home when hope of finding him had diminished. They became angry, resentful, and blamed both schools for gross negligence. They claimed that we had placed their son in an unsafe environment. Sal’s brother publicly posted a scathing letter, claiming the school was completely negligent. Threats of a lawsuit were being bandied about. The students in Italy had gone on with their studies hoping to complete the program. I had all but given up hope.

Graduation at Alma was scheduled a few weeks out; I knew it would be best for be to return and attend. When I arrived on campus, the students, whom I had stayed in contact with, greeted me warmly. They all assured me that the ICC was not to blame for Sal’s disappearance. We all wondered if this great mystery would ever be solved. I met with the local and state police for an update — there was none. Still much speculation that there was foul play, however, the guilty party or parties, had not revealed themselves. I returned to New York having lost quite a few pounds and feeling like I’d let a lot of people down.

Thanksgiving came and went. Each day brought less talk of Sal’s whereabouts. My emotions had gone from remorse to sadness to anger; acceptance was not within reach. Then, out of nowhere, shorty before Christmas, a call from Francesca in Italy, Sal had been located. He had joined the French Foreign Legion. Apparently, when you join, you leave behind the material world and those you once cared about; some join to escape their lives. Sal somehow managed to slip a note with his parents telephone Number to an Asian guy who was leaving the Legion and had agreed to make a call. It was the best Christmas gift of my life.

There are several takeaways from this life event that are forever etched in my brain. First, Sal’s family never apologized for their treatment of the two schools. They blamed us for Sal’s disappearance for months and when he turned up, not one of them came forward to acknowledge they were unfair and had hurt several good people. Lastly, when Sal left the French Foreign Legion he did not contact me to explain himself, apologize or thank me or the ICC for trying to find him. Oddly, I didn’t care. It bothered others at the school and it made several people in my life angry, but I had something far more important to me, I had peace-of-mind and Christmas that unfortunate year.

Disclaimer: This incident occurred over ten years ago, therefore, I cannot swear by every detail outlined in my accounting of the story. Due to the seriousness of the situation and my own personal involvement, I can only vouch for my own recollection of what took place.

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Future Travel

Asia land & sea, end of October/November, Lyon, France for Christmas, South Africa land & sea in February, and Oslo, Norway July 2024. Finally, a visit to the Puglia region of Italy in the spring of 2025; it’s about time I visit the birthplace of my father.

Current State-of Mind

Just back from Basel, Switzerland. Three days were perfect. It’s a beautiful city, offering magnificent architecture, excellent museums and galleries, good eating options, easy to navigate transportation and only 2.5 hours by air from Faro. Transport from the airport to the city center by shuttle bus in 20 minutes (leaves airport every 10 minutes). Be prepared to spend some money, Switzerland is pricey. If you go, Steinenschanze Stadthotel was excellent and affordable. If you spend more time there, the city borders France for other travel options. Several other countries are close by.

I seldom return from vacations feeling rested and rejuvenated; Basel was a perfect city getaway.

Please forgive any grammatical or typographical errors. No AI software used in the creation of this blog.