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“I never said most of the things I said,” President Trump should not be plagiarizing Yogi.

Mary Kate is safely back at Ithaca. Tuition is paid, Field Hockey practice has begun……. now if we could just get our hands on some record that she attended classes in Australia last spring.

If you are impressed with skilled writing watch the Game of Thrones. Nothing is ever spoken by a character without a real sense of purpose. I especially got a kick out of a tongue in cheek line used by the character Bronn in last week’s episode……”No one has ever fucked me harder than time.”

It has taken me years to understand …….” Brevity is the soul of wit.”

Even if it is staring me in the face at a bar…….. I refuse to look at one play of pre season football…. Now if I could make the same pledge for the regular season I would save a lot of money.

It has been said that girls are looking for their father in a man…….well Laura has found someone who far exceeds that expectation.

My favorite part about August nights is listening to the peepers chirping their booty call…….. they sound particularly desperate this summer.

Speaking of Labor Day…. I’ll be heading out to San Francisco for the Labor day week-end show…… I will not be wearing hush puppies though, sorry Jimmy Buffet.

Don’t get me wrong , I like my life, but somebody said something to me the other day that got my attention: “You’re only one decision away from totally changing your life.”

People who get a gold watch for working 50 years for the same company, women who don’t change their hair style for 20 years, high school athletes who metaphorically keep their uniforms on, and writers who grind the same ax too long……… I don’t know, let’s just call them slow learners.

Heard it on the golf course from an unlikely source ….”I know I know nothing.” There is work to be done to make this my mantra, but heck I am going to give it a shot.

The total eclipse of the sun ……. Totally not impressed.

I try hard not to watch commercials . By accident a commercial caught by attention. I am not sure if it was for a drug , or an insurance company. It was raunchy enough that I will not share the parody in this blog……. But I will give two hints…….. The song 1. “There is always something there to remind me” 2. Mount Rushmore………Please, if you have seen it let me know privately.

About once a week my mind returns to Tiger Woods…… At a much lower level of understanding I, too, am having a hard time with the fact that it is over….. it is either my lifetime struggle with acceptance ,or the ex-jock in me.

A teacher recently told he was against merit pay because then his pay would be determined by how good a teacher he is……….. Imagine that.

Only six months into the Trump Presidency and I’m going to be bold enough to put my spin on it……….. Highest rated reality television show ever……. The joke is that we are all being exposed.

A narcissist ….. they still think they are one part of the cutest couple at their Junior Prom……… The ones who are still married to the other part , ……. I recommend taking the first step…… call 1-800-ima-narc.

The Statue of Liberty is of a woman……. It was put up in New York harbor at a time when woman didn’t have a right to vote and were considered second class citizens. This demonstrates our country, at the time, did not represent Liberty at all. I demand we take it down. NOW!!!! Or I will pay someone to knock it down.

LaGuardia Airport is getting an eight Billion dollar makeover……… Thank Holy Batman for the tax payers they didn’t decide to just build a new one.

All my life I thought I wanted all things to come easy….. As it turns out I am in love with Chaos….. As Little Finger said “Chaos is a ladder.”

I have lost a lot of money in my life gambling……. But I proudly confess not a single penny of that coin went to Powerball.

Floyd Mayweather Jr. vs. Colin McGregor takes me back to when Muhammad Ali fought that Japanese wrestler Antonio Inoki at Yankee Stadium in 1976…… Lots of hype, no substance.

As Hurricane season approaches it is time for me to get back on the road again…….. not to infer there is a correlation between the two.

Not that we will be occupying any of them but I think we are paying rent in August for five separate apartments…… One in Ithaca, one in Sydney Australia, one in Manhattan , and two in Tallahassee Florida. Never mind the house on Flower Hill.

Being married is like being at an auction…… you’re never really sure you made the best offer.

Just a thought for my friends to the left of me………. EVERYONE understands President Trump is not a” Mastermind” , but quite possibly he is a “Master Baiter”

We began with a Yogism, so let’s finish with one……”When you come to a fork in the road , take it.”

 

It isn’t hard to remember where I was when I heard the news. I still smell the old pizza cartons that permeated suite 102 in the Benfer dorm . Muhlenberg College’s right guard , defensive tackle, and quarterback were on one couch and I was sprawled on the lazy boy chair. It was December 8th 1980 and we were watching the Miami Dolphins vs. New England Patriots Monday night football game head into overtime. Despite the tied score the announcer Howard Cosell said he had to interrupt the game to make a very sorrowful announcement . “John Lennon, one of the Beatles ,has been shot twice in the back outside his New York City apartment. He was transported immediately to the nearest hospital where he was pronounced dead on arrival.” Way before the days of terrorism, school shootings, or celebrity stalking this news shocked the world. The four of us, then college sophomores and juniors, were very young when President Kennedy, Martin Luther King, and Robert Kennedy were assassinated, far too young to feel it the way we did that night. John Lennon was a God to us, and even more we looked at him as a true genius. At the time of Lennon’s death heroes seemed easier to come by than they do today . Even though he was 40 years old, to the occupants in Suite 102 he always had been hooked into our energy. In the three years living together our apartment had never become so still . It was only time I saw any of us cry in the presence of the others.

I have always been impressed with the accomplishments of groups that worked together to achieve incredible results. On rare occasions in business, sports, or music the whole can be better than the individual parts that make it up. Practically, it is impossible to think that four young men growing up in the same little town could come together to form a rock band that would impact the world more than any other to come before or after. The Beatles began blending their magic out of the small city of Liverpool , England. The Fab Four ,leaning mostly on their Blues background, changed the way rock and roll music was viewed and the social mores of an entire generation. It intrigued me that classmates residing in the same town could come together and transcend music . They had so much to say, and such a unique way of saying it , especially for impressionable ears. My favorite was Paul, but it wasn’t until after the group broke up did I realize that John was the pied piper , the mastermind behind the phenomenon. The other three were clever, they were talented, they were cute, but John was a genius. As a young lad I listened hard to all that John was saying beyond the music. I didn’t admit it then, but John was too much of a non-conformist for me, Muhammad Ali with a guitar.

I thought his words were arrogant and flippant , the same way I believed the entire counter culture of the 60’s was off base. John wanted us to Imagine a world with no countries and at the time I was incapable of understanding or comprehending what he meant.

By the time 1969 rolled around, Neil Armstrong walked on the moon, America was still fighting in Vietnam, Helter Skelter became a famous Beatles song for all the wrong reasons , the summer of love moved to Woodstock and John Lennon had grown weary of being a Beatle. There was never a more dramatic break–up in the recent world’s social make-up. The fans needed to hold someone or something responsible, how could the greatest group of all time break up in their prime ? There was plenty of blame to go around beginning with Yoko Ono, John’s girlfriend at the time.

Due to crowd size, and noise, the band had to cease touring and were relegated to the studio. George and Ringo wanted more say and more cuts on the albums. There were issues over recording label contracts which of course leads to money problems. Despite all of this backdrop, if you wanted to know why the Beatles were moving on you needed to look no further than John Lennon. To put it simply, he had out grown the other three members of the family. John was aware that he could not continue to evolve as a musician or as a person if he stayed. He had the courage to take on the wrath of a generation who had made the Beatles their way of life. A roof top concert above Abbey Road Studios was the last time the four boys from Liverpool would be seen together. John found out early that “till death do us part” isn’t always meant to be. That strong marriage that we all wanted to last forever was over.

It is true that sometimes a group of people can make a great team. It is hard to argue that the Beatles together were the best musical group that has ever come together. In their case each member alone was a star. Paul McCartney formed his own band (Wings) that ended up in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame . George Harrison had great success as a solo artist and collaborating with the likes of Eric Clapton and Tom Petty. Ringo Starr experienced only moderate accomplishments with The Starr Band and was never reach the creative heights of his band mates.
The song that John is probably most famous for,” Imagine”, was written solo in 1971. “You may say I’m a dreamer but I’m not the only one”, speaks right to my soul. Yes he was different, he existed at some higher level, but he knew he had company that he wanted awakened . John believed in things way bigger than the Beatles, the obvious ones being Peace and Love , yet he was aware that his music was the avenue to get his bigger message across. So after five years of laying low, high above New York City recovering from a parting of the ways he had orchestrated, John was ready to come out and remind of us why he was the most powerful individual singer song writer of all time . He released his Double Fantasy album just three weeks before he was murdered. The song “Watching the Wheels “ was a statement of how he spent the 70’s, while the song “Starting Over” gave a glimpsed into where he was headed if he had not been gunned down.

What I admire so much about John is the fact that I did not come to understand much of what he had to say until now. The Beatles had reached a pinnacle and could have stayed relevant for as long as the Rolling Stones have. It turned out it was John who had enough. He saw himself as more than a craftsman getting by on his God given talents . He needed to expand and develop his individual expression and make room for change. He was courageous enough to break up the most successful rock and roll marriage of all time . “Yes we could have kept turning out hits , but for me the Beatles became an example of best friends who don’t want to be married anymore. You have to find someone else to play with.” Ironically the other three Beatles found their individual voices many years earlier than John ever did. He wanted to take a break from being a thinker and a writer to literally become a” house frau “ (his words). At that time, in an interview with Robert Harris, he said something that I came to appreciate years later as my favorite quote from him, “I had to find the room to liberate myself from my own intellect. “ One of the biggest challenges we all have in this life is getting out of our own way.
John understood that the only way to free himself from the merry go round his life had become was to get off.

Mark David Chapman, listening to subliminal messages from J.D. Salinger’s “The Catcher in the Rye”, put three bullets into the oldest member of the Beatles at about 11:00pm Dec 8, 1980. John Lennon, arguably the biggest rock icon of all time, husband to Yoko Ono, father of Sean and Julian, and one of the very few who helped me understand what genius means, was gone at the age of 40. Beyond the pure tragedy of a man’s life being taken in his prime was the idea that he had so much more left to offer us all. I think back to the boys in that dorm room all those years ago. We were 19 ,ready to turn 20 , not understanding all the challenges that waited ahead . We had accomplished nothing beyond some backseat high school sex and a few athletic victories. By the time we reached 40 we had families, moved around in careers, and became productive members of society. I cannot speak for Steve, Ozzie, or Grebby , but it was not until I had lived past the age John Lennon died that I began the journey to discover who I am. At 57 I don’t have half the answers that John Lennon had when he died. No telling what we all missed because of John’s premature exit. Whether or not we admit it, we are all playing an enormous game. John was so close to the finish line, and maybe in some strange way that is why he is dead. For the rest of us, with so much time ahead to live, think of all the possibilities and opportunities. I, for one, am determined not to waste them.

Sunday nights are much better when Game of Thrones is on………. Dragons, frozen walls, wildlings, imps, saucers, and of course Sansa.

Still waiting for the President’s people to get back to my people about having a sit down……. I can be patient.

Delivering a health plan for every American , that is better and cheaper than the one we have now ……… Some dreams can’t be realized.

Do you think Hillary Clinton is beginning to realize she actually won the election?

I know, I put the words in writing : “Groundhog Day is one of my favorite movies”………… To think that I question my courage.

Jon Snow vs. Little Finger…………………if you know me, you know who I am betting on.

I admit my tastes in music are dated…….. in an effort to be more contemporary I have added the Lumineers and Passenger to the soundtrack in my car.

Is it something I am doing or saying?….. It seems lately people are telling me exactly how they feel .

This goes both ways ……. Mostly pleasant stuff , but I have endured more than one verbal attack recently.

One was from a much older man who got up from his chair during a conversation with me and said : “ You’re not who you think you are. If I were 20 years younger I would punch you right in the mouth.”

The other was an old high school friend who said nothing, but looked at me with the kind of disdain that says it all. “I think you are an asshole, I always thought you were an asshole.”

I am of course curious as to how the old man knows who I think I am……. I thought I was like everyone else still trying to figure that out.

Who really cares about Donald Trump Jr. meeting with the Russians……. Or Jared Kushner’s security clearance.

I heard the other day Tiger Woods checked himself into rehab……. I thought that is where he already was the last 10 years.

Someone named Roger Federer won Wimbledon …….. And I thought after Borg, McEnroe, and Connors were retired professional tennis died.

There are plenty of issues to beat up Trump on……… but please can we stop hearing about how the Russians are responsible for him being President. Forty years of corrupt and incompetent politicians had way more to do with Trump than Vladimir Putin.

CNN and FOX have completely lost all credibility with the exceptions of two groups….. The nuts from the left, and the nuts from the right.

It is obviously very difficult to satisfy all parties in terms of Health Care for Americans………..Truth is: teachers, government employees , police, firemen, all civil service workers don’t want anything to change. They are very happy with their coverage and don’t have to pay for it.

It applies directly to the old saying “Government pays for NOTHING, the taxpayers pay for EVERYTHING.

My friend in the restaurant business said something the other day about a mutual friend of mine that I can only hope somebody says about me someday……. “He’s got stuff figured out that the rest of us are not even close to.

I am not sure which news story is more annoying…….. Trump/Russia or O.J. Simpson’s parole hearing. Let’s just call it a tie.

“I am sorry for the way things turned out”, says O.J. What he really was saying: “ I could care less about the people I have hurt or killed I am just annoyed I had to spend time in jail.

Congratulations to Chris Deforest for winning the New York State Open golf tournament and the $17,500 that goes along with it. There are always many lessons in defeat. But this is a case where much can learned from victory.

Nobody gets in to see the Wizard …..Not Nobody, Not no how! ……. OK, ok he makes exceptions in certain instances.

In Emerald City The Wizard was way ahead of his time ……. He had already figured out the Lion was confusing courage with wisdom and the Tin Man was actually fortunate not to have a heart.
Oh My!

It was very eye opening having my recent conversations with Joe Ausanio and Charley Rosen…. Both former professional athletes who are great guys and have found happiness in life beyond sports.

I have it on good authority that God and the Devil meet once a week for a beer and some negotiations. Yes, they definitely discuss their clients and control of the market place. I only mention this because my contract is expiring in the fall……. I hate it when they fight over me.

Some things may seem like forever , nothing is. Relative to the short time we are here forever does not apply.

Raise your hand if High School was the best time of your life………. For those with their hands in the air all I can say is “You reap what you sew.”

Mary Kate is back from the land down under…….. In the one month since she has been home she has three speeding tickets, two blown out tires, and one fender bender. Total cost $2,457. In two weeks she heads back to Ithaca. I thought it was only fair for me to alert law enforcement there in advance.

Her sister is prepared to go back to Tallahassee in a couple of weeks…….. I have not seen her this summer. Last I heard she was stuck in one of the world’s airports.

As for me……….. Still working on leaving some things behind , trying hard to stay in the present, and always with one eye cracked open to the future.

In a place called Punxsutawney Pennsylvania, at a glorified bed and breakfast, the alarm clock was blasting to the sound of Sonny and Cher. The duos biggest hit “I’ve got you Babe” is obnoxious enough, but at sun rise it is a perfect song to force you to jump out of a warm bed and shut off the radio. We’ve all seen the movie. Bill Murray (Phil Connors) plays a television weatherman who is sent to Punxsutawney every Feb. 2 to see , or not see, Punxsutawney Phil’s ( the groundhog) shadow, and get an indication of how many more weeks of winter can be expected. After delivering his report on the groundhog a big snow storm arrives forcing Phil C. and his crew to stay another night in Punxsutawney. It is not long before we figure out that tomorrow, only for Phil, is going to be the exact same as yesterday . This is the main plot of the movie Groundhog’s Day and the title has become synonymous for people describing their personal day to day redundancy as living life in a form of “ Groundhog’s Day. For me , at first look, this movie was a sophomoric comedy that gave me a good laugh. As the years have moved on my perspective of the movie has made a dramatic change. I realized this is not some silly movie about living the same day over and over again. It is about human growth, evolution of an individual, introspection, discovery, and personal betterment. But mostly it is a love story. It is about what it takes to earn real love and trust.

The concept of the movie Groundhog’s has a wide spectrum of thought provoking underlying themes. What if you could live today over? What if you could start your life over again retaining the knowledge
and experience you have accrued. We all have fantasized about returning to our youth having the wisdom we gained in the autumn of our years. The movie Groundhog’s Day suggests one do-over isn’t enough. It is not until the fourth or fifth February 2nd that Phil decides he wants to transform himself and try to get all the details right. He had always been an arrogant selfish bastard, unmotivated to facilitate change. Slowly, Phil learns to be a good listener, he has an opportunity to morph into a better self while those around him stand still. He becomes a better person, not a different person. The question is: When we find ourselves stuck in Groundhog’s Day why do we wait so long to escape it. After all, aren’t we ones who can decide any day, any moment, that we want to make changes that move us towards tomorrow. It appears to me most people are comfortable with their redundant lives, tomorrow of course is the unknown and is a scary proposition.

The voice on the other end of the phone I had not heard since 1988. He had been a student of mine in my early days as an educator. He is the middle child surrounded by two brothers, the product of parents who split up when he and his siblings were very young. As we caught up it was evident that the scars still had not healed. “I never wanted my kids to feel the way I did when I was a little boy. My Dad is not a bad man but he was a bad father.” His voice was coming all the way from a small steel town near Pittsburgh Pa.. For two people who only know each other from years gone by the conversation was surprisingly powerful and insightful . My old student had ended up in the abyss of the friendly state because his wife’s family lived there and his wife took a job in the food service industry back in her home town soon after they were married. Twenty five years later he is still there. There are three children and a business that he started which now supports many members of his and his wife’s families. “ I actually hate it here, but will not even think about leaving for another three years until my youngest graduates from high school. I constantly feel like it’s groundhog’s day , but that is the sacrifice I made to ensure I keep my family together. The person on the other end of the phone had me hysterically laughing and crying during the course of our exchange. He was an amazing contradiction, reserved yet open, serious minded but a tremendous sense of humor, stuck in time but somehow evolved, coy in a highly intelligent manner, highly practical but deep down a sentimental dreamer.
It seems flying low under the radar he has learned much about himself after repeating 1000’s of Groundhog Days. In a few years I hope to catch up to him again. Based on our only conversation I predict he will have moved on to February 3rd.

If ever there was a man who lived each day without taking a chance, especially when it came to family it was my friend Max. Married for 20 years , having a eight year old son, possessing a great career , Max, his child and wife ,on the surface presented the perfect family. Underneath Max was exhausted of the mundane, of the repetitiveness of living everyday on the same schedule, of pulling his car into his driveway daily at 5:30. Some like the slow and steady fire, the Ferris wheel, being the company man, the family man. Others like chaos, the rollercoaster , they enjoy the part of the rebel, questioning and challenging every decision made around them. These troubled souls can’t sit still , they are uneasy with the grind of daily life. Still, very few of these mavericks find the courage to disrupt the applecart we call family and marriage. Depending how you look at it, they either stay courageously put , or they are even more courageous and risk hurting all they hold dearest to their hearts for their own happiness. No one would ever argue Max has been a great husband, is a strong father , and has lived his life with his family as his top priority. Max did not wait for the timing to be right to follow his heart. My friends, who are close with Max, are in shock that he actually turned the page. In Max’s mind he needed to live the rest of his life on a different day . Does it make him less of a father? Does it make him an incomplete family man . I truly do wonder.

I was 29 when I left the field of education. I have not awoke to the ringing of an alarm clock nor responded to sound of a bell in the last 28 years. As a teacher and a coach I found my life to be one dimensional, routine, predictable , and controlled. I was living in my own Groundhog’s Day listening to my peers talk about how many more years they had to retirement. I was already, jaded, stale, sarcastic, and worst of all, unmotivated. Towards the end of my teaching career I kept telling myself I had to get out of this rut. For eight years I watched the kids cycle through. I was fully aware that the students kept moving on and I kept standing still. My nightmares saw into the future and consisted of me giving the same history lecture to children whose parent s had heard it 25 years ago. If I didn’t care anymore, how could my charges possibly learn anything from me beyond cynicism ? The wheel of time was spinning in the same direction year after year and would continue to do so unless I decided to jump. The move meant I was giving up health benefits , a solid retirement package , a weekly paycheck . Metaphorically, I was leaving stability, credibility, and a career which defined who I was at the time. I threw away my career path to re-invent myself and start over. Now I was chasing a new life, searching for a new identity , a complete overhaul of my future plans. What I couldn’t get through to anyone at the time was that I was stuck and I needed desperately to do something about it. I wanted to do something about it. I needed to find a new direction as well as financial independence. Something inside me was saying “move on” and set yourself free.

Isn’t it ironic that even when we know things are not working we still repeat the same action over and over. My golfing buddy hooks every drive, yet stays on the practice tee all day replicating that same bad swing. He toils and sweats yet the results never change. He has just perfected “the hook.” Phil Connors finally realizes that if he wants a different outcome in his life he must commit to change. His journey embodies a view of human growth the natural maturation process that so many of us make a conscious effort to avoid. Groundhog’s Day is a comedy, a parody, a drama, and a love story. The bastard weatherman who wakes up on the original Groundhog’s Day is in love with his producer Andie MacDowell (Anita) but is incapable of even liking himself. But as the same day keeps duplicating itself, Phil learns to see himself for the first time. He also sees and hears Rita, and understands that he loves her. He becomes determined to be a man who deserves her love. The cynical, arrogant, miserable Phil wants to become a good person. Through a cycle of approximately 40 days Phil gets it right. In the end Sony Bono’s voice is blasting as the alarm clock turns to 6:00 pm. This time Phil is not alone, someone reaches across the bed to snuggle, it is Rita. She had been there all along, he only needed to change himself to see her.

It was somewhere that looked like the Australian Outback, many years after she had taken her own life. Jennifer opened the door and had no idea who the man was, standing before her. “May I help you,” Jennifer asked weakly. “Hi, I was in the area and dropped by to say hello,” said the handsome wanderer. Jennifer’s eyes ran up and down the man standing on her front porch and tried to make a connection. ”Many years ago we met briefly. Do you remember?” asked the stranger. He looked to be in his mid fifties, very attractive with dark wavy hair to contrast his piercing blue eyes. “We met one time, back when you were in high school. You were sitting in the hallway reading ‘The Catcher in the Rye.‘ The bell rang and I reached out my hand to help you up . It was only for a moment, but the connection was powerful.” Jennifer stood in her doorway confused and dazed. She vividly remembered the encounter, she even could picture the scene in her head. Jennifer remained silent but continued to listen to the man who had just stepped into her life again talk. “It turns out I was the one you missed. Each soul has a mate, but there is no guarantee that they will find each other on earth. We bumped into each other but it must been the wrong time. Before you arrived here one of the questions you asked was had you found the partner you were suppose to have on earth.“ He was right, Jennifer had posed the question to her handlers. ”Please go away and leave me alone.” Jennifer had her answer, still, she shut the door on what could have been.

Jennifer is a character in a television program. In the scene she was residing in some version of heaven, or quite possibly purgatory. Several years ago she committed suicide shortly after both her children were killed in a car accident. During the interview process for acceptance into heaven she was allowed to ask questions about things she was unable to get answers to during her time on earth. As a person who is not a believer in the life after, the story line intrigued me. If there is a world beyond this one, wouldn’t it be great to have an opportunity to clear up some nagging questions that were never answered in the living years. What unlocked secrets would we be most interested in discovering? Who killed JFK? Whatever happened to D.B.Cooper? What happened to all those planes lost in the Bermuda Triangle? Is there life on other planets? Did Anastasia escape the executioners noose? Who kidnapped JonBenet Ramsey? Did Moses really part the seas? Those are universal questions that provide plenty of lively conversation. But what if you could ask questions directly related to your personal history? The conundrums that had gnawed at us for a lifetime. What if you got to resolve some questions you wrestled with on earth before they decided your fate in a place between heaven and hell. A sort of a waiting period, during which the answers to your questions are revealed by a higher power. What would you being dying to know?

I only knew him toward the end of his life. He spent most of his time laying on a couch in a third floor apartment that was part of a larger house located on Fremont Street in Peekskill NY. I don’t recall ever having a conversation with him or spending more than five minutes in his presence. I do remember him always being under a blanket watching television. There was usually a pack of cigarettes and a empty TV dinner dish within reach. Charles Davis Vail died in his sleep on that sofa, the year was 1968. It wasn’t until many years had passed that my mom and dad told me my grandpa’s story. “When I was little we had a lot of money and lived in a mansion. My father’s family was wealthy, we owned five roller skating rinks and half of the real estate in Peekskill,” my mother would go on. “Your grandfather was a gambler, drinker and philanderer. He lost every penny we had at the horse track. Grandma had to go back to school and get her teaching certificate so we could pay the bills. Still, I loved him very much,” my mother was usually in tears by that point of the story. “He was a great guy,” my father would always chirp in, ”he was club champion in both golf and tennis at the Powelton Club. He was a smooth dresser, with a smoother tongue,” my dad would continue. While in life we didn’t talk, after his death and throughout my life I had many one way conversations with my grandfather. He never answered back but he was a great listener. He doesn’t know it but he helped me through many a difficult spot. When and if my day of judgment comes I will ask the powers to be if I can talk to him. I want to know what it is like living for eternity with his mistakes . There are no “do-overs” but there is regret. I want to know if he was able to see me as I experienced my trials and tribulations. Mostly I would want to tell him that my Grandma and mother forgave him. I hope he has already talked to them both.

The back row of pews at the Saint Joseph Church were starting to fill up. For a Thursday morning at 6:30 am God’s business was bustling. Most of the crowd was probably comprised of “regulars” squeezing their rosary beads. These were definitely people who did not take a day off from the Lord’s good word. Not much different than the “shot and beer” guys who would never dream of missing a day at the local watering hole. Despite the rampant sexual scandals and weathered ideals, Catholicism was still selling well in Kingston NY. Scanning the sanctuary I noticed two men, both of whom had reputations as religious fanatics. From the stories I had heard these gentlemen were faithful in taking in the lord daily and spent the rest of their day judging the minions in town. I admit that seeing them, and the throngs of others, at the crack of dawn, gave me an extremely queasy feeling. What if God was taking attendance? All the “regulars” would definitely have a heads up on me at the pearly gates. Not only did they show up to the house of god religiously but they could recite scripture. Although not a believer, I enjoy reading the good book. One of my favorite passages is “judge not lest you be judged.” If there should actually be a day of reckoning, I will have my own questions and judgments prepared. Do non-baptized children get into heaven? If I eat meat on a Friday am I still in.? What about if I had sex before I was married? I have told more than one lie in my life…in or out? Do all the priests who inappropriately touched children receive absolution? I would need to hear the direct answers to those questions before accepting my invitation to nirvana.

Early January, of this year was the last time I saw my daughters together. Mary Kate and Laura were raised to understand there comes a time to fly away from their parents. This plan may have been taken too far, too fast, because even though neither one has completed college they are both practically and figuratively gone. I do understand we are parents for as long as we live, still I am convinced children morph into parents of both their own children and their parents. These days my girls merely pass through my life for only hours at a time. They are off to semesters abroad, internships, summer jobs, boyfriends’ houses, field hockey practice, the gym, and just about any place they feel like.

I was never much of a disciplinarian, even to the chagrin of Mary Kate, who sometimes will quietly plead for my parenting. “Dad it is too late for you to start acting like a parent,” she recently said after I threatened to lay down the law. I readily admit I have not given my kids enough tough love. For 21 years my main priority has been to garner the affirmation, respect, and confidence of my daughters. If I ever do arrive in the next world their judgment, not any Deity’s, will be all that matters to me. I would tell God to please let me hear the eulogy Mary Kate and Laura recite in their head. I am aware my children know I am a flawed man, but will they forgive and overall deem me worthy? Did I give them every opportunity to make a happy life for themselves? Were they aware of how much I loved them? Did I set a good example for the way a man should act as a husband and a father? Did I put my children ahead of myself? If my daughters can give a yes answer to most of these questions I will rest peacefully no matter what God has to say about it.

Jennifer was not prepared to hear something that contaminated the imagery and brought into question the choices she had made. The man she was suppose to be with had gotten away, she had missed him, they had missed each other. Possibly, because she took her own life she was stuck forever in purgatory and didn’t have a choice in what was going to be exposed. Maybe she was doomed to the hell of living with the pain of never facing her fate. She was left to think about what she had experienced during her living years and how little she had taken control. Will any of us want a choice after we are gone to know if we even had a destiny, let alone whether we fulfilled it. To really know if you made the right choices or you just lived a life that happened to you and that was all there was. We all eventually come to a point where we question the path we have taken. Did I find the vocation that was my passion? Did I accomplish what I wanted to? Did I find my soul mate? Did my children believe I did my best as a parent? Most of us don’t want to hear the answer to these questions? Perhaps there are no answers. Somewhere in the outback, in the gap between reality and regret Jennifer got an answer. He was standing at her door in the flesh. It was too late. Jennifer shut the door that had opened just a crack all those years ago. She was going to stay where she was. There would be no going back, her past was irretrievably lost.

The left window seat of the big greyhound presented a classic view of the New York City skyline. On a bus heading south along the New Jersey Turnpike the music of the time was blasting out of the 1980’s style boom box. A large contingent of eighth grade students, in the hands of five “adult” chaperones were bound for the nation’s Capital. Flighty 14 years olds have a proclivity to play their favorite songs, or the latest hit, over and over again. “One thing is sure. That time will tell. Only time will tell .” I was sitting next to Annie Geisler and the lyrics from Asia’s chart topper “Only Time Will Tell” was unwillingly being imprinted infinitely in my brain. Only 22 years old , the words were gripping to me. I was already conscious that time always gives us an answer. I understood time could not be beaten , and it eventually catches us all . After scanning my surroundings of  the  youthful charges  and their teachers I turned back to the window to see the open fields of Pennsylvania. What did time have in store for me?  What story did time have in store for my traveling companions?

Johnny Atkins was holding court in the seat across from me.  He was a popular, handsome, 14 year old wise guy.  His family had moved from America’s Heartland in the 1970’s and bought a farm in a small New York hamlet.  Johnny’s grades didn’t stand out , but he was certainly not lacking in intelligence. As a first year nervous teacher working hard to earn respect Johnny  stood out to me.  Most of my students made it easy for me to win their affection,  Johnny, was one of the few who challenged me. He always did in private showing maturity beyond his years. “You’re not as cool as you think Mr. Siegel”, or “Stop trying to act like an adult Mr. Siegel.”  He was right on both accounts, I wasn’t that cool,  and was miles away from being a grown up. Johnny and I were  different in many ways , but I always felt we maintained a mutual respect. In doing this story I was anxious to find out what time had done with Johnny. As is becoming common practice for me  I found myself scanning Facebook chasing Johnny’s story. It turns out Johnny had started working on his parents farm before moving upstate.  The kid I remembered as complex, had chosen to live a simple life. As I kept scrolling down I noticed his last post was from 2012.  Curious, I dug deeper, and sent  private messages to a couple of his childhood cronies. To my dismay I learned  Johnny  was taken by cancer in 2012. He left behind a wife, a child , and at least 40 years of living.

Three years ago this May was a turning point in my life. My story was setting up for the final chapter. I had just gone out on my own to open a business, my daughters had both left the nest and I was proceeding deeper into my new found passion of writing. I had written a book and I was reconnecting with many old friends and former students. I was finding  some answers as to how time had dealt with the some of the people who were heading down the Jersey turnpike all those years ago. Three years ago, my assistant buzzed the intercom to tell me that Bobby Zantz  was  on the phone. I immediately recognized the name of the shy sweet kid that was in one of the first Social Studies classes I ever taught. “Mr. Siegel, I already read your book . I saw on line  that you are having a book signing party and I want to come.” I informed Bobby of the details and immediately after hanging up the phone I looked him up on face book. I know sometimes pictures don’t tell the story so I was anxious to see my old student in person. A few days later Bobby Zantz  came strolling into a favorite local restaurant for an unlikely reunion with his old teacher. It turned out Bobby has been married for 15 years, has two young boys and lives only an hour from me. He said he had seen my book online and wanted to give some insight of what life had given and taken from him. “I am a Social Studies teacher in the same district where you taught. I decided to teach because of the impact you had on me .  I wanted you to know that and thank you in person.” It is touching to be told, in person, how the impression you make on people can steer them in certain directions.  . Life gives to us, and it takes from us. But, I know the students in Bobby’s classes are on the receiving end.

Kris Bayner  always had the right answer in my eight grade history class. She was cute , outgoing , ambitious and most notably exceedingly intelligent. With her shiny silver tinsel teeth she always wore a big smile . She came to class every day with an attitude that was ready to take on the world . There are a few select kids who are “can’t miss” , who possess abundant talent that makes  you sure they will go on and leave an indelible mark with the time they have.  I was positive Kris  was going to be a great attorney, a radio producer for the likes of Don Imus, or a Pulitzer Prize winning  author.  After attending a Catholic  private high school , she went on to a New York City University, where she graduated with high honors. All anyone could ever dream of , including the bright lights of the Big Apple, were in front of her. Instead, Kris decided to head back home to upstate New York and get a job writing for a local newspaper attempting in keep one foot on her career path.  Most of the people close her speculated her other foot was more anchored to her high school boyfriend who was still attending college back in the Hudson Valley. Within a year of returning home, at the young age of 22, Kris was married, put her career plans in the backseat, and traveled across the country with her husband while he pursued his dream of being a professional athlete.  Five years, and two children in they settled into the roles of a coach and a wife. From all accounts she has lived her life supporting her husband’s career of teaching golf. She unselfishly put her personal  aspirations on the  shelf to be a stay at home mom and her husband’s  assistant.  She has spent the last 25 years watching him compete in amateur events, at the same time having the primary duty of raising her family.  I caught up with her recently on Facebook and asked her , as her age is the nearing the half century mark,  if she had any regrets. “No regrets,” she quickly responded. “   Having fun, raising my children, and being  supportive of my husband’s career have been my priorities.  That is more than enough for me. I don’t waste  any energy thinking “what if” or what other people may think what I could have done with my time . “It’s my life , after all.”

Don Lister was far from the stereotypical  Middle School Teacher. A child of the sixties, he graduated from New Paltz Teachers’ college with a  license to teach secondary English. Don loved the classics , and he had a penchant to quote Samuel Johnson or Leo Tolstoy.  Despite his rich knowledge of all literature , he was far from a one dimensional personality. In 1983 he was only 35 years old , had taught 12 years of high school English and was in his second year as a school principal. On a Sunday night deep into May, Don gave me a ride home  back to New Paltz after we had returned from the class trip. He was married , with three young children, but having an affair with the school guidance counselor. He shared with me in the  car that he wasn’t cut out being for being an administrator. On the surface I didn’t think we had  much in common . It was not till much later in life that I grew into appreciating what my leader was experiencing at the time.  He had gotten many intrinsic rewards as a teacher, but felt like a slave to protocol as a high school principal.   Within a year of that night Don Lister walked away from education, took a job as a package delivery driver , and filed for divorce.  I never saw him again, but it turns out he worked 25 years in that delivery career, is now the proud grandfather of 6 and remains  single. It has taken me a very long time to understand  that  change takes tremendous courage. “ Of the blessings set before you make your choice and be content” – Samuel Johnson

The bus continued on its way into the twilight towards  Baltimore. I was 22 years old and my life was only beginning. It was  seven years before I would marry,  I was 13 years short of becoming a father, and 30 away from losing  my mom . The music from the boom box was now  playing the sounds of Joe Jackson “ we are young but getting old before our time” . Looking through the mist on the window out to open fields along the highway, I felt alone despite the noise surrounding me. For the passengers, both chaperones and students,  time was still for the moment.   The future  was on our side,  there was very little behind us , and only the open road in front. As the moon displayed itself in the half light I thought about what a valuable asset time was and how it seemed it would never run out on me.  Today, 35 years later almost to the day,  time is  still flying over the heads of the people on that bus. The shadow it left behind us is much longer now. Bobby became a school teacher , Kris traded in her personal ambitions for a boy, , Don isn’t educating these days but happily carrying boxes ,  Johnny left us way before his time . As for me, I am still trying to find my voice, always searching, prodding, attempting to find a serenity that I know is unattainable. As long as we breathe there is time to cast more shadows. Is the road ahead already determined for us? Or will we be able to determine our own destiny ? As I continue to question, those lyrics embedded on my brain from decades ago keep looping….”One thing is sure ….. only time will tell.”

It was approaching 7:00 pm on a classic Georgian spring day. The tall pines were casting their long shadows through the bright setting sun.

There are certain moments in our lives that end up being turning points, likely to go a long way to defining who we are , where we are heading, even, who we have been. Moments that we have already seen in our dreams and tirelessly prepared ourselves for. These occasions occur infrequently when hard work and results, victory and defeat, growth and stagnation, redemption and purgatory come together to make a determination. This past Sunday at the Masters, as the roars echoed through the tall pruned Georgia pines, Sergio Garcia could only hear the thoughts in his head reminding him to stay in the present. Garcia, now 37, had shown great promise as a 19 year wonder boy destined to chase Tiger Woods for many years to come. On this brilliant Sunday, now past his prime, the Spaniard was staring directly at his destiny. In 73 attempts Garcia had failed to bring home a coveted major title. With only a few holes left, and two strokes behind, “El Nino” understood this could possibly be his last opportunity to set the record straight. His chance to toss the giant monkey off his back was right in front of him. Numerous close call losses had earned him the reputation as a choker and a crybaby. Too many times he had whined after defeat and blamed the bad luck delivered by the “Golfing Gods” as a reason for not meeting expectations. With the whole world watching he was in a position to change his legacy.

It has become a tradition that my father and I watch Masters Sunday together at my house. The only changes over the years are the size of the flat screen television and the amount of times we need to get up for a bathroom break. “This is going to be fun to see how Sergio responds to the pressure he must be carrying today.” Although my words fell on deaf ears they got me thinking about my own big moments of reckoning that had left their permanent mark on my soul. In my personal defining moments how had I handled adversity? How did I react to being up against the wall ? While Sergio was digging his golf ball out of scrubs on the 13th at Augusta, looking to fall four strokes behind with five hole to play , my mind was drifting back to the kickball field in New Paltz New York . My family had just moved into town and I was a scared eight year old wanting to fit in. Second graders can be pretty rough on the new kid in school and “little Richie Siegel “ was no exception. Sporting my new slick rain coat I was the last player on my team to get a turn at the plate. Before Kyle Peterson rolled the big red rubber ball in Paul Baker came to the mound and huddled with his infield. First he said, “that is a stupid jacket”, and the next thing I knew both teams moved to a different field and continued the game with me standing alone . Feeling the raw emptiness of possible lifetime abandonment I charged towards the other field . Paul and myself rolled around the grass for approximately one minute. I emerged with a bloodied lip and a tattered green rain coat. I had lost the only physical fight I have had in my entire life, but made a major step towards winning the war.

Garcia fought his way out of the trees on 13 to save a par and was facing a 15 foot eagle putt on 15 to tie for the lead.

By the time the fan crazies had mobbed the court and Rhett Weires was being drowned in a sea of bodies, I had already rushed into the locker room to breathe in the sweet smell of victory. I was the 25 year old New Paltz Boys Varsity Basketball coach who thought he could change the world. Minutes earlier we had defeated perennial power and defending league champion Wallkill High 68-67 on a free throw by Rhett Weires with no time remaining on the clock. Alone, away from the celebration, I could hear someone making their way through the maze of lockers . Embarrassed by the moisture of triumph I wiped my eyes with my cheap sport jacket , stood up straight , and swung around to face my visitor. I recognized the tall man in front of me who leaned his hand on my shoulder. “I am so proud of you. You are one hell of a coach,” before my tears burst into a full bellow the man of few words was gone. Proof that our lives can take drastic turns I only coached for two more years before I was fired. I had other opportunities but I decided to permanently stay out of coaching. That decision to not go back to the hardwood was instrumental to me also giving up my teaching career. But nothing ever tarnished the moment I had with my dad that December night back in 1986.

Garcia and Justin Rose stood on the 72nd tee of the 81st Masters dead even.

Mary Kate came running down from a packed high school gymnasium to give her sister a big embrace. Laura had just completed the speech she needed to deliver as Queen of The May Day festivities at Kingston High School. In my younger days I was convinced that raising children would not be in the cards for me. I was way too selfish and irresponsible to be an acceptable parent. When I was 35 it appeared that having a child was not going to be a possibility. But when Laura was born I was convinced that I did not want her to carry the burden of being an only child. It was 13 months later that Laura welcomed home her baby sister Mary Kate.
Now, 18 years later, the two of them were hugging each other in front of their peers, parents, and teachers. The day symbolized a happy ending to my job as a full time parent . Oh , I know we are parents for eternity and I will always be there for my girls in any situation I am called upon. Though, I believe there comes a day that should signify the end of day to day parenting. When it is time for children to be adults and time for their parents to start making themselves priority number one. Donna and I walked out of the Kate Walton Field House that fine first day of May knowing this was both an ending and a new beginning.

7:15 pm rolled around and the two European golfers were still tied getting ready for a sudden death playoff.

The moon was giving off so much illumination that the ripples of the Hudson river could be seen clearly from 50 yards away. Well past midnight the Rhinecliff train station paints a picture similar to a scene from an old Sherlock Holmes movie. Walking north in the parking lot adjacent to the train tracks was a lone figure in search of his car. It had been a very long and trying two years since the time I had been unceremoniously fired in the spring of 2013 by my employer of the past 22 years. It was bad enough I was handed my walking papers but on top of that ,a year later, as I struggle to get my start up business off the ground , I was sued for pirating clients by my ex bosses. My counter suit was filled with depositions, strategizing , and exorbitant attorney fees. After a full year of battle I was returning from New York City and a full day of mediation to determine who would win the war of intelligence , emotion, pride, and most importantly, money. The enemy had been out to hurt me making the fight not only about business but personal integrity. It turned out the amount of cash my former employer agreed to pay me that day far exceeded any number speculated by my counsel prior to filing the counter suit. My lawyer later claimed that he had never witnessed such a reversal of fate. For me it represented full vindication of who I was, and who I had been. A huge victory over a large corporation and some small minded , arrogant people with an over bloated opinion of their own importance. Before I reached my vehicle I got on my knees and looked straight up to the perfectly round orange ball in the sky. Out of nowhere I bellowed into the air “That’s what you get for underestimating me!!!!!!”

In the golden twilight of a perfect Sunday at The Masters Sergio Garcia was at the rear of the 18th green of Augusta National Golf Course on his knees kissing the turf.

Finally, he was realizing a moment that he had come so close to capturing on many other weekend’s past. It seemed like only yesterday he was a 19 year old kid clicking his heels and running down the fairway at Medinah stalking a legend it turned out he would never catch. Now at 37 , carrying the demons of past disappointments , on the 60th birthday of his deceased boyhood idol Seve Ballesteros, he had won his first major title. Before he put on the coveted green jacket that goes along with winning the Masters Sergio Garcia looked up to the sky and whispered words of redemption. How far he had traveled to get to this moment. . We all dream our dreams . Some of the fortunate ones have their most glorious visions come to attrition, most of the times we fall short before crossing the finish line. Sometimes we quit on ourselves, other times we keep fighting. On a few rare occasions, when we least expect it, when we are calmer and wiser, we get to feel like we reached the top of the mountain, at least for the moment. The 2016 Master’s champ Danny Willet slipped the green sports coat onto the new champion inside the Butler Cabin. ‘The Golfing Gods finally smiled down on Sergio today’, I uttered out loud. As my dad got up to make his way home I could feel his eyes upon me :” Richie , you should know better, God had nothing to do with it.”