It is 1 January, 2024. I don’t usually see this day on the calendar as cause for reflection, but sometimes I just feel like reflecting. It happened to hit on this day.

I read the NY Times every morning. I also read the Economist, NY’er and a few other sources of news and inspiration, along with the regular alerts I get on my phone. Thus, I feel pretty current. I read about the war in Ukraine, the war in Gaza/Palestine/Israel, the politics in the USA and many other mostly depressing things in our world today. Sometimes they inspire guilt – why should people be starting in Ukraine and Gaza while I am stuffing myself and enjoying expensive wine and whiskey? 

I recognize that it’s largely the luck of birth. I was born in the right part of the world, to parents who gave a shit and had the means to provide me a basis for success. I had to make my way, of course, and enjoyed a rewarding career. I made money, enjoyed my roles and colleagues (mostly) and made friends along the way. After getting a good job, I met a gal, got married, moved out of NYC and started a family.

My family is grown up, living in wonderful places and enjoying their own successes now. As work and family obligations slowed down, I started reconnecting with old friends. My buddies from college days are the best example. We have all gotten close, talk almost every day, using our love of football (soccer) as the thread that ties us together. We get together at least once a year, worry about each others’ health and revel in the frivolity of our silliness together.

I have so much to be thankful for – family, friends, a home, enough resources to keep us busy and our health…so far. I am now devoting my retirement years to finding ways to give back more than I used to. That means devoting time, energy and experience, not just writing donation checks.

I sometimes worry that I am not doing enough with my life, that I didn’t make enough of an impact on the world (aren’t we all convinced we will leave a significant mark when we are young?). I suppose the impact I am leaving will be subtle, not one that merits press and celebration. I am hopeful that my kids will say I loved them and they loved me. I hope my wife and I will grow old (very old) together and be happy with each other. I hope a few of the lives I touched – at work, in my non-profit work, and all the beautiful pets I gave homes to – will appreciate it in at least a small way. Maybe that’s good enough. 

Or maybe I will have a brilliant idea and chase it for the next 20 years! hmmmm.

It is November 2023. I have travelled many places, mostly for business but also for family holidays. Now that I am retired (!) I can say yes to new ideas. I had been to Italy, but never Rome. My eldest decided to visit London, Rome and Amsterdam with her boyfriend. She asked if Dale and I would like to meet them in Rome. The correct answer seemed to be yes.

Most places we go give us a “it reminds me a bit of..” to discuss. Not Rome. I’ve not been anywhere that is as unique and very cool as Rome. Talk about history. Every street corner has something incredible to explore. We saw the Colosseum, Trevi Fountain, all the hot spots. Get a tour of the Colosseum – it’s worth it to book in advance as you can avoid crowds. The food in Rome is fantastic. I don’t understand how the Italians are all so slim, but perhaps its because the food is so healthy – not much of the crap you get in USA.

My wife booked tickets at the Vatican Museum. I wasn’t sure what to expect, being as ignorant of the Catholic Church as any other. Wow – this was probably the most interesting museum I have ever been to….and we ended up in the Sistine Chapel (photo above) marveling at the work of Michelangelo. stunning.

The streets of Trastevere were fun to explore – the best pizza, lovely little wine bars with very affordable top notch Barolos to share.

This was as good a 3-day holiday as you can find.

I joined the Board of Directors of this non-profit last week. I’d like to talk about it :-).

My retirement needs to be fulfilling, like most people say. I would like to insert myself in helping non-profits whose cause are important to me. Those causes include racial justice and diversity, kids and education, and Maine.

I have been involved with Junior Achievement since about 2005 (18 years) and Chair the Board of this non-profit in Connecticut. This scratches a couple of itches for me – kids, education and diversity. We prioritize helping kids in communities in need.

I also do pro bono consulting for non-profits in Ct. This doesn’t always tick my priority list, but I do get to use my experience to help some local non-profits, like Community Colleges, and the Catholic ‘Church (not sure how I got involved with them, but…).

What I was seeking next was a way to help my local community in Maine. I am helping introduce Junior Achievement to our little island, but then my online research led me to the Island Institute (www.islandinstitute.org). Their mission is to help waterfront communities on 15 islands up the coast of Maine. These local economies are under pressure from climate change, pressure on the lobster industry, educational needs, workforce and workforce housing challenges. They have a very interesting focus on aquaculture.

The mission attracted my attention and then getting to know the people involved solidified my commitment. I was elected to the Board last week at their annual meeting. More on this as I get a bit knowledgeable.

Today I write about my dog, Rooney.

I have always had dogs as family members and companions. I think they only time I didn’t have a dog is when we were living overseas, and even then we adopted a dog in England and brought him home when we moved back to USA. This dog – Rooney – is unique in a few ways. They are all unique in personality, but this pup is a kook. So says my vet, who claimed that Rooney was her favorite.

It all started when we adopted Surrey, a beautiful little 2-month-old black lab puppy, from a group called Adopt-a-lab. As it turns out, black dogs get adopted far less often than others as they are not as photogenic. Black lab faces are harder to see in a photo. Surrey came to us as a very young pup, and she was the sweetest dog we have ever had. She still is. She was calm and loving and well-behaved right from the beginning. Surrey is the closest thing to a perfect dog we have ever had.

So…my wife decided that we should try again. You know they old saw about having a perfect well-behaved baby who sleeps through the night, so you figure the second one will be just as good, and then…. Same.

My wife adopted Rooney from the same organization, Adopt-a-lab, and made it her business for it to be a surprise. We picked up Rooney from the van that had driven her from Arkansas or Tennessee or wherever she had come from, I can’t remember which. Rooney was already 6 months old – this is an important fact, as it turned out that she had some history.

Rooney was ill-behaved, skinny, unattractive (for a lab) and difficult. She was not affectionate at all, she pissed and pooped everywhere, starting in the car on the way home. In short, she was everything Surrey was not. This went on for quite some time. We of course got her cleaned up, but she was skinny and apparently untrainable. She ran around, wouldn’t listen, chewed, wouldn’t be house trained and continued to refuse to be affectionate. After a few months of this, the thought that we might not be able to keep Rooney crossed my mind. It was the closest I have ever come to giving a dog back, and of course I could never actually do it, but the thought definitely crossed my mind.

She was named Rooney, after a gentleman named Wayne Rooney. He was one of our (my son and my) favorite footballers (soccer players) in the UK. He played for Manchester United, and was hard-headed, stubborn and ill-behaved. He got in trouble regularly, but was an amazing football player, great with the ball, huge amounts of energy on the pitch (field) and wonderful to watch. My Rooney was same – hard headed and got in trouble and stubborn as hell…but also great with a soccer ball. She (yes Rooney is a she, though I don’t think she realizes it) played only with a soccer ball, right from the beginning. She wouldn’t chase a tennis ball – could care less. Try to get the soccer ball from her, though, just try. I brought her to the high school soccer team’s practice once and dared them to try and play keep away from Rooney. None could succeed.

Rooney turned out to be athletic as hell – she played soccer, she ran with abandon and she could scale the fence (about 5 feet high) around our swimming pool every single day it was open, so she could go swimming. Oh and could she swim. We had to be careful in Maine as she would swim out to follow us in kayaks. One time she followed my daughter for probably 1/2 mile, until she had to turn around and lead her back.

Rooney was an impressive bundle of muscle.

Eventually – we didn’t give her back of course – she calmed down…a little at a time. It probably took a couple of years, to be honest, but she started to pay attention and become part of the family. Surrey probably helped. Rooney and Surrey grew to love each other like sisters and it’s lovely to watch them together.

Rooney is now 11 years old. She can’t scale the fence any longer, but she can still swim 1/2 mile when given the chance. She has turned into a loving girl, and real part of the family. She is definitely a kook and prefers to be dirty. All the time. She sleeps in the dirty in my wife’s garden, she plays in the mud and on the rare occassion she is forced to bathe, she immediately heads for dirt afterward. I’ve given up trying to keep her clean – she is happiest when she is dirty. One of my son’s friends just calls her “Dirty Girl,” and he loves her.

I will never know Rooney’s history, but I am guessing it was pretty bad for a 6-month-old puppy to be so poorly behaved and difficult to deal with. It does prove to me, however, that any dog will respond to love and nurture and eventually come around. We love Rooney – she is weird and quirky but she behaves and she loves us back.

I hope she lives for quite a while yet.

I finally have gotten used to the fact that I am retired from corporate life. My last company was sold – before I was ready to quite, tbh, but that’s life. I contemplated finding a new company. I contemplated seeking board positions, consulting, simple advisory work.

I have ended up (ended?) in the following place. I do some rewarding work for Junior Achievement, a non-profit in Connecticut that I have been associated with for some time. I do some mentoring for a young man who used to work for me in London. And…I have agreed to help my son establish and run his company – Osprey’s Echo Sea Kayaking. He loves kayaking and started his company with my support as well as the rest of the family. I now spend all of my time between May and mid-October up in Maine, working with him. I don’t have a guide license so he is the one on the water, but I take customer calls, I answer questions and talk customers into the right choice of tour. I greet them at our launch site, get them in their gear and the right frame of mind. I help carry boats, I clean gear, etc etc.

All of this is in sharp contrast to the roles I have played in the previous 40 years, leading teams of people around the world, traveling, selling technology solutions. I am outside, working with my son and our dogs. I wake up in the mornings and it’s gorgeous – even on rainy and cloudy days. It’s not bad, not bad at all.

Disclaimer: my experience with grief does not compare with so so many people in the world who have faced it in far more dire circumstances. I have not been to war, I have not lost a spouse or a child. I appreciate what I have and the perspective I try to hold is vital.

Nonetheless, I grieve over losing my Dad and my Mom. I also grieve when i lose a pet. As trivial as that may sound next to someone else’s loss, the days I lost a loved pet are seared into my memory.

I have regrets over how I have dealt with some of this.

My dad had Alzheimer’s disease. This must be one of the worst ways to go imagineable. He was an intelligent man, highly articulate, precise in his communications. Alzheimers trapped him inside his own body. I could see how frustrated he was. The last time I saw him, he was lying in bed, and it was clearly near the end. Mom (who was healthy) had suggested I come visit – she knew he was close to dying. I had my young son with me, but we decided that seeing his Grampy wasted away would not be the best memory for Jack. I went in the bedroom alone. Dad saw me. He recognized me. He made a couple of noises to me and tried to gesture. Mom watched this and marveled that Dad was trying to communicate with his oldest son at this late stage of his disease. I did nothing. I said hi to my Dad and stayed for a minute, but I didn’t hug him, I didn’t talk to him and say my farewells in an earnest way. I regret that last visit so much. I wish I had just told him I loved him. I did love him, and I should have told him. It makes me sad to look back on how weak I was at that moment.

One of our favorite pets died in a vet’s office. She was a beautiful dog, so sweet and so much fun. She was my daughter’s dog, but the family marveled over her. Addie was a big girl and when she got sick she went downhill fast. I think she was only 9 years old when we took her to the emergency vet for the final time. They made it clear that putting her to sleep was the kind thing to do. They asked my wife and I if we’d like to come into the back room and say goodbye. My wife couldn’t do it, but I did. I walked in the back and Addie was lying on the table. She saw me and her eyes lit up; she tried to get up, but couldn’t. I walked over and petted her for the last time. I gave her a kiss and then I left. I wish I had stayed, so that I was the last thing she saw before she died. I was crying too hard (as I am now) and in a moment of weakness I walked away and left her to the vet.

I hope I have learned from these two moments of weakness. They haunt me. Dad tried to communicate with me. Addie just wanted to be with me. I know that these are small things in the scheme of life, but they do haunt me.

I love you Dad. I think of you often and miss you more than you know.

You too, Addie….know that I will be there next time.

There – I have admitted something in writing that I never did before. I think reading this novel about grief inspired me to share this…probably with nobody, but what the heck. At least I wrote it and got it out.

I think about this from time to time. Not just since I retired, but more so now of course. The intriguing elements are that I like to write, and it would give me a project and a sense. of accomplishment if I ever pulled it off. On the downside – not sure I am a good enough writer, and then there’s the question of what to write about!

Could I write a novel? seems like a long shot for me as I don’t have a clear idea on a topic. Could I write a novel set in Maine, where I have a love of the setting? Every time I read a really good novel, however, I marvel as the writing. Not sure I could construct a sentence as elegant as those…

Then there are the non-fiction topics. A business book? A book about sales? (i know a lot about that), a book about myself and the family (who would find that interesting? maybe not even the other 5 Steinharters).

And so my uncertainty goes on. but I’m gonna keep thinking about it. Sometimes it just takes time for an idea to percolate, ya know?