A topic in the news often these days, Isolationism seems to be a preferred position by many conservative actors around the world. Make my country great again (fill in your favorite far right politician’s country) can sound like logical polltical theory. Okay let’s start with USA. Isolationism sounds like it’s time for us to put our country first, as THE top priority. It seems to suggest that our domestic agenda is miles more important than our international one…and protecting our borders from immigrants is an important issue. Should we really be responsible as the ‘police’ for the rest of the world? Is NATO important? to the USA?
I have views on this of course, and they are colored by our historical position as a leader and safe haven in the world. Wasn’t this what made America great in the first place?
But then I start to think about isolationism in a more expansive way. Isolating our country is up for debate (it seems). But then what….should my state take a similarly isolationist stance? If Connecticut or Maine (i like ’em both) decide that we really need to have an isolationist view about things, does that mean we don’t want those damn southerners moving here and polluting our gene pool? Are our local laws more important than the ones passed by the Federal government?
Should my little town be far more protective about mixing with people from other towns, other states, other countries? We happen to be a predominantly white population in this town – is that important to protect?
Okay then I take this to the next step in my mind, Do I want my family to think in an isolationist manner? Do we need to circle the wagons and be far more careful about who we mix with? My son is getting married this year…do I really know enough about her family’s background? My daughter has a boyfriend who great up in another country!! Yeegads. What if he pollutes our gene pool some day?
So you see, I don’t really like where isolationist thinking takes me….at any level.
We adopted Rooney about 12 years ago, maybe 11. We love adopting rescue pups and we had one lab, named Surrey. Surrey was a black lab (did you know that black labs are the hardest to find homes for? They just don’t photograph well. Here she is – best one I can find).
So we had Surrey for a few months and she was perfect – sweet, obedient, loving. My wife thought it would be fun to adopt another lab, so we went back to “Adopt a Lab” and adopted this dirty yellow girl.
When we got her, she was filthy, smelly, disobedient and basically the opposite of Surrey. She was a terrible dog. I say that but you need to know that I have had dogs my entire life. I love them and they love me. This is first time I have ever gotten close to wondering “what have we done?” by adopting her. We went through a tough time with Rooney. She was named based her stubbornness – Wayne Rooney was one of our favorite footballers; a phenomenal talent with incredible energy and a bit of a blockhead. Rooney is a girl, but we didn’t care. She was just like Wayne, and in fact she was damn good with a soccer ball. She only played with soccer balls – wouldn’t chase a tennis ball as it was beneath her. Tennis balls were for Surrey.
Rooney took forever to come around. By ‘come around’ I mean start to listen to us even a little. She will always be stubborn, but she eventually relaxed, became lovable and as our vet says, “she is a kook.” Rooney is an incredible weirdo. She was very strong and athletic. She could jump/climb over our pool fence in order to go for a swim. She loves swimming more than anything. She swims in our pool, in the ocean, anywhere at all. We have to be careful at our home in Maine because if we go out kayaking she will follow us. She once followed my daughter for about a mile before we got her to turn back. She’s amazing, really. She even taught the new kid how to swim (see below).
One time a couple years ago the vet took x-rays and found a bb pellet lodged in her chest. This was an indication of what her life must have been like before we got her. She was so high strung and difficult that we could only guess what she’d been through. The bb pellet gave us a clue.
This month we noticed that Rooney – now 12 years old – was starting to get a little thin. We took her to the vet and he took x-rays, finding a tumor in her chest. The tumor is next to her heart…her great big amazing heart. He said that she probably only has 1-2 months to live. I was in tears. I am in tears again as I write this and remember that moment. Doc said that when it looks like she’s in pain or struggling to breathe we can give her some pain meds, but making her comfortable at the end is our only strategy. Oh Rooney….
We are just 1 week in since that diagnosis. We have yet to see a decline – she is the same weirdo she has always been. Here she is, taking a nap.
I mentioned earlier how stubborn she is. She seems not to give a shit about what the doctor said and so far she is ignoring the fact that she has only a short time to live. I don’t know what will happen from here, but we are going to make sure that Rooney lives her best life for however long she has left. We are taking her back to Maine next week so she can play in the woods, run into the ocean and never look at a leash. I will take her for hikes and feed her as much as she wants, for as long as we can.
She was the worst dog ever. Now she is the best girl and I can’t imagine our home without her.
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.
I drafted one of those end of year holiday essays that some of my clever friends include in their Christmas cards. They are fun to read and I figured I can do that. Now, my wife will never approve of course, so here it goes instead :-)…….
Christmas 2023
This is my first attempt at this. Dale will be either nervous or cringing until she reads and approves the draft, so by the time you get this it will surely be heavily edited if not redacted.
Bottom line, all is well. Let’s start with the kids. Surrey is now 12 years old and Rooney is almost the same, just a few months younger than her ‘sister.’ It’s a pretty good run for a lab, but they are in excellent shape – minimum two walks a day and when we are in Maine they go for months without having to wear a leash (you should see their faces when we get back to Ct and they have to tolerate such a burden). The “new” guy is Gimli (son of Gloin, a hearty dwarf from Lord of the Rings, for the uninitiated). He’s a little guy and I resisted getting a small dog, but somehow Dale won…and we have successfully turned him into a not-so-little dog, topping out at about 30 pounds. They get along fabulously with their cousins Mogul and Rusko, who live in Winter Park, Colorado and Burlington, Vermont, respectively.
The human side of the family is also going well. Katie is head of social media for Alterra, the parent company of some of the best ski mountains in the world, such as Winter Park, Steamboat, A-basin, Mammoth and many more. Theirs is the ikon pass. Anyone with the epic pass is no longer of interest to us. Good luck at your ‘B’ mountains. Katie moved up to Winter Park a few years ago with Mogul – we are pretty sure it was Mogul’s idea – and it works out really well for the rest of the family as we have a great place to stay, and Winter Park has a couple of good distilleries, too….so I’ve heard. She’s living the life, dating a great guy (not just a nice guy) and spends her time either on the mountain or on her phone, doing social media and getting paid for it.
Sarah lives in London and works for JPMorgan. She’s been there since she graduated from Wake Forest 10 years ago. She professes that “I’m not coming back. You people have guns, shootings, Trump, and so much more.” In any case, she loves London, and frankly so do we. She now has two roommates – Piggy is the important one. She’s a 3-year-old cat with attitude (I realize that might be redundant) and she dotes on her. More recently, Ian moved in. Ian is a kiwi, but the human kind. He’s a wonderful guy who grew up in New Zealand and has been in London for as long as Sarah has. Much promise in this relationship, which we give a thumbs up to.
Jack is finishing up at University of Vermont Medical School. It’s a simple process really. He got his undergrad degree in Biology, and then his Masters in Biology and then spent 4 years working at the Dana Farber Cancer Institute. Next was med school and next year he starts his residency, somewhere. The location will be unveiled sometime in March, and he will start making a living sometime before Dale and I expire…so he promises. The news that’s just as big is that he’s engaged to be married. The lovely Katy (as opposed to Katie) lives with Jack and Rusko and even contributed a nice old kitty named Michael…..presumably named after me, ya?
Young Will is our entrepreneur. He told me he wanted to start his own business 3 years ago, and asked for my help. I love it when my kids ask for my help, but I do have to pick my spots. We launched Osprey’s Echo Sea Kayaking (www.ospreysecho.com) and damned if he hasn’t made a nice job of it. The whole family helps when we can, but Will is the one on the water for about 10 hours a day up in Maine, entertaining customers with stories of the island, its history and the glory of the lobster industry. He basically spends the whole year outdoors. The kayaking season runs from May through October, then he hits the road and goes backpacking somewhere – this year across Europe. When he returns he will be a ski instructor at Sugarbush in Vermont, teaching kids how to ski and trying to recruit new guides for the summer.
Dale and I are now retired. I confess it took me some time to get used to the idea, and frankly I’m still not sure if Dale either approves or is used to it. Nonetheless, the good news is that our kids are all placed in fun places to visit, so we bounce between London, Colorado, Vermont, Maine and Connecticut…and at least once a year we get instructions from Sarah about a great family holiday. Not much sitting on the beach for this crew. Not even much sitting still, frankly.
Our home in Stonington, Maine is wonderful. The photo above is of a Christmas tree made from lobster pots, at one of the local restaurants. We spend the whole summer up there now, supporting Will, playing pickle ball (Dale’s preferred sport) and hiking and kayaking. We still have our home in Weston, CT, but watch this space.
If you got this, you must someone that we sincerely wish a lovely holiday season.
Now that I’m in my 60s, sometimes I feel mortal. I know that sounds dumb, since we are all mortal; we will all die. It’s too early to be losing friends, though, and cancer takes some (too many), accidents some others and then there is the simple fact that we are all aging.
I am healthy, so I don’t feel afraid that my life is coming to an early end of some kind, but I had lunch with an old friend recently and he said that we are healthy, until we are not. I play tennis, pickel ball and walk the dogs twice a day. I can’t remember a day when I didn’t get 10,000 steps in, at least according to my fitbit (i choose to believe it).
On the other hand, I don’t play soccer any longer and I rarely go for a run, due to a ‘severely arthritic’ ankle and two ACL replacements in my knees. The knees feel as good as new (thanks doc) but the ankle hurts every day. Some days I am dizzy when I get up…something to do with crystals in my ears, wtf. These are all relatively minor things – incredibly minor actually. My dad and his sister had alzheimers and died badly. I hope I don’t get it, but have no idea, and cant’ worry about it.
My wife and I are growing old together. That’s what the plan was and still is. In our mid-60s we are both still active, we travel, we go see our kids all over the world, and we are happy. How will it feel when we are mid-70s? How will it feel when we are mid-80s? I don’t know. I am having dinner with 3 good friends tonight. One is my age and two are older – if they aren’t 80 then they are close. Maybe I will ask them how different it feels in the 70s+. Then I will finish this piece…
Well, one of my friends from dinner last night is 80 and in excellent health but the other is 82 and has Parkinson’s disease, he said. I think we just carry on, and hope for the best, keeping fit and eating as well as possible (allowing for regular treats, of course).
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.
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.
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 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.
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