It's been a while since I've written anything for publication.  This was published in the March 21, 2014 Trenton Times.

Making a Difference

If you had your druthers, wouldn’t you want to make as much of a difference for as many of your neighbors as you could, at the least possible cost?  There aren’t many ways that we can do that individually, but there’s one organization that does it all the time – the American Red Cross.

In a tradition that began with Franklin D. Roosevelt in 1943, each year the president of the United States proclaims March to be “Red Cross Month.”  This year, President Barack Obama’s proclamation read, in part, “During American Red Cross Month, we honor those who devote themselves to bringing relief where there is suffering, inspiring hope where there is despair, and healing the wounds of disaster and war. Today, American Red Cross workers, alongside countless humanitarian organizations and caring volunteers, deliver life-saving assistance in every corner of our Nation and all across the globe.”

The Red Cross provides emergency assistance, lifesaving training, disaster relief, services to military families, blood collection, and many other supportive and preparatory care services to anyone who needs them.  Most of the services are provided by unpaid volunteers, while a small professional staff coordinates the services and provides direction and continuity.

The Red Cross is there when local, regional and international disasters strike.  The Red Cross is there when training is needed in first aid and CPR, lifesaving and emergency response.  The Red Cross is there when military personnel need connections with their families and communities.  The Red Cross is there to ensure a safe blood supply for emergency and medical needs.  The Red Cross is there when planning is needed to prepare for inevitable disasters, both natural and man-made.

For major disaster responses, the Red Cross is there in a big way.  Imagine the logistics involved in assembling an organizational structure, lining up and coordinating hundreds of trained volunteers, acquiring purchased and donated resources, and establishing a presence, all within hours of the occurrence of a disaster.  During Hurricane Sandy, for example, huge empty warehouses were transformed almost overnight into well-stocked, fully staffed, busy distribution centers.  These hives of activity were surrounded by a swarm of Red Cross and rented vehicles, each picking up and delivering much-needed supplies to people in need.

With over 500 chapters nationwide, the American Red Cross is virtually everywhere, even though it’s one unified organization.  While chartered by the federal government, it doesn’t receive funding from the government, except in certain limited circumstances.  Much of its financial support and virtually all of its trained volunteers come from local communities.  Here in the heart of the Garden State, the American Red Cross of Central New Jersey (redcross.org/princeton) serves 1.8 million residents in Mercer, Middlesex, Hunterdon, and Somerset Counties.  The chapter also serves as the headquarters of the North Jersey Region.

Although the Red Cross spends about 91% of every dollar raised on direct services to those in need, its tremendous volunteer base magnifies that investment exponentially.  For every paid staff member, there are about sixteen volunteers.  This translates into a huge return on the investment in paid staff. Talk about leverage!  In addition, many non-cash donations are made by businesses, so the overall return is even greater.

What all this means is that we depend on the support of Red Cross staff and volunteers more than they depend on ours.  Nevertheless, they do depend on our financial and volunteer support in order to provide vital ongoing services to us and our neighbors.   More importantly, they need our support in advance of major disasters; after a disaster strikes, it’s too late to prepare, so the financial investments need to be made and trained volunteers need to be in place beforehand.

After almost every major disaster, the outpouring of financial support from individuals is incredible. But the Red Cross is responding to local disasters nearly every day. Last year alone, the American Red Cross North Jersey Region responded to 485 local home fires, providing 1,269 families with emotional support and emergency assistance with food, clothing, and temporary lodging.  Just recently, the Red Cross responded to the gas explosion in Ewing, establishing a reception center at the West Trenton Fire House and providing emergency assistance to families as needed. The Red Cross continues to coordinate with Ewing Township and other organizations to help provide comfort and assistance to the families affected by this disaster.  So it’s important to recognize that fundraising is not just episodic, but rather that a steady flow of financial support is needed to keep the Red Cross ready and able to respond.

If you are not already engaged with the Red Cross, now that you realize how valuable it is to your community and how great an investment it is, please consider making a financial commitment to the organization and/or adding your name and skills to the long list of selfless volunteers who provide services or donate blood.  You can find what you’re looking for on the web at redcross.org/Princeton.  Once you’ve done that, you’ll know this: it’s great to know that we’ve got neighbors like us!

The Audacity of Nope

This was published in the August 7, 2011 Trenton Times under the title, " We must unite to solve our nation's problems"

I’m disappointed...and so are many other Americans. When Barack Obama was elected, we had the audacity to hope that the tendency to deadlock in Washington would be reversed – that there would truly be non-partisan cooperation, and there would truly be harmony. But the struggle for superiority continues to work against such an elusive goal, and we continue to hurtle toward the abyss. The total lack of cooperation, and indeed the rampant obstructionism – the ubiquitous use of “no,” is frightening. It seems that Nancy Reagan’s “Just say no” slogan has been co-opted for far less noble purposes.

The behavior of our elected officials, particularly in our nation’s capitol, is very disheartening. We entrust these people with our lives and our livelihoods, only to see them gamble away our limited wealth in games of brinksmanship, wars of attrition, and schemes of Ponzi. And most recently, with our country tetering on the edge of bankruptcy, we’ve seen them at their worst – pointing fingers, issuing ultimatums, wasting time while other major issues are burgeoning, and each waiting for the other to blink. What seems to be lost on them is that compromise is not necessarily a bad thing, and doesn’t have to be a zero sum proposition. A rising tide can lift all boats, but not if they’re too firmly tied to their moorings.

The games being played by our elected officials are extremely dangerous. With a refusal to agree on anything meaningful, not only are we losing our credit standing, and with it, much of our economic value. We’re losing our place as leader of the free world, which desperately needs a strong leader. We’re also losing the momentum we’ve built with growing prosperity, where each generation is better off than the last. We owe it to our children and their children to keep their dreams alive.

Wars of attrition are being waged in many ways, both domestically and internationally. On the inside, with our elected officials’ parties sniping at each other and refusing to cooperate, with actions bordering on extortion, they’re gaining nothing for themselves, and by their intransigence, continuing to sink our economy. On the outside, our involvement in the Middle East continues to be a swirling vortex, and the more we spend, the less we seem to achieve. By squandering our treasure against unseen and often duplicitous enemies, we fulfill the very goals of terrorists – to destroy our financial foundation, and in doing so, rob us of the desire to interfere with their plans for domination.

Charles Ponzi would be proud to see how our government has adopted his financial strategies. We’ve built pension plans, Social Security, Medicare, Medicaid, bond issues and other programs that have morphed into financially ruinous schemes that count on tomorrow’s revenue to pay today’s bills. We talk of many of these programs as “entitlements,” and lose sight of the fact that for many of us, they are investments that we have faithfully made, while our government hasn’t kept its side of the bargain. The very idea that we can continue to raise the debt ceiling with no viable plan to pay off the debt should be ringing loud and clear in the heads of every ethically-minded individual.

Our great nation is in danger of collapsing under its own weight and our experiment in democracy may not survive. The debt we’ve run up, the regulations we’ve entangled ourselves with, the underfunded entitlements and subsidies we’ve created with incentives to game the system, are all piling up on top of us. Our government seems to be good at placing more burden on its citizens, especially in good times, but seldom takes any of it away, even after it’s proven to be a failure or its usefulness is diminished. In addition, the Baby Boomers (of which I am one), who are responsible for much of this dysfunction, are causing a surge in expense and a shortfall in revenue as they leave the workforce and move into retirement.

It is clear that our problems didn’t materialize overnight. Expecting them to disintegrate overnight is pure folly. Similarly, expecting reduced expense alone, or increased revenue by itself, to solve our problems in the short term is not realistic either. We need a comprehensive balanced approach to move the country in the right direction, and we need it now. Revenue increases need not be permanent, while spending cuts can and should be. We have to realize that a plan of such import will take some time to implement, and even longer to have the desired effects. So we’ll have to be patient, and we’ll probably have to do without for a while. And we must all be willing to share the pain and sacrifice.

But we must have a plan, and we must have the resolve to see it through. In the meantime, the increased debt ceiling will provide some necessary breathing room. It’s long past time for our elected officials to get serious about reducing our debt and living within our means. Time is running out for them to find some common high ground, before the rising tide drowns us all.

Japan - Resourceful and Resilient

Barely a week after the devastating earthquake hit northeast Japan, and despite advice from friends and warnings from the US State Department and the Tokyo Consulate, my wife and I kept our vacation plans and went to Japan on March 19, 2011. It wasn’t that we couldn’t have rescheduled – the airlines made it easy and attractive to do so. What we couldn’t reschedule was our son’s graduation from Kumamoto Gakuen University in southern Japan.

The morning the earthquake hit, my wife, Chris, awoke to the following words on NPR: “...magnitude 8.9 earthquake hit Japan...” To a mother whose firstborn is a half a world away, and to whom Japan seems only as big as a postage stamp, she was very concerned. Quickly, though, she made contact with Jason through the internet, and he was fine. It turned out that he was about 700 miles from the earthquake and its aftermath, the tsunami and the nuclear meltdown at Fukushima.

Every day after the earthquake, the prognosis became more dire, and Chris and I did not dare to discuss the trip. Our flight arrangements had us flying into Tokyo, whose airports had been shut down immediately after the earthquake, and then on to the southernmost island of Kyushu, where Jason lives. She’s a white-knuckle flyer as it is, and the thought of flying into a serious danger zone was best to avoid. So we talked about it obliquely until the day before departure, when it came time to print the boarding passes. To my mild surprise, she agreed with me that we should go.

The flights were uneventful, and although we were on a jumbo jet heading into Tokyo, I think we were the only Americans (other than the flight crew) aboard. The plane was only about a third full, and there were several passengers who were visibly upset. We assumed that they were heading home to deal with personal disasters, and felt their pain in some small way. Tokyo – Narita Airport seemed like a ghost town when we landed, but the people who were there were going about their business as if nothing had happened. After a several hour layover, we flew from there to Fukuoka, on the west side of Kyushu. Jason picked us up at the airport and took us to our hotel.

His graduation ceremony was one to be remembered. Not for its pomp and circumstance, but for its simplicity and irony. The entire graduating class included about a thousand undergraduates and a handful of graduate students. Jason was in the graduate program, and his particular class numbered four students. Each class had one representative who accepted the graduation honor on stage for the class. Since all four students in his class had straight As, they needed a tie-breaker to choose their representative; Jason had taken an extra class, so he won!

We followed the directions into a large auditorium and found some seats, and waited patiently for the ceremony to begin. Curiously, there was a large projection screen on the stage, and it soon became apparent that we would be viewing the ceremony on it. The students were all in another auditorium, and the professors and speakers were on that stage. The ceremony began, and we tried to follow its progression, in a language that we could not understand. I videotaped some of it, and was able to record Jason’s performance. So Chris and I travelled halfway around the world, braving earthquakes, tsunamis and radioactive fallout, to videotape our son’s graduation on a projection screen!

After the ceremony, the students adjourned to various classrooms and other venues to meet with their professors and receive their degrees. Jason led me into the room, and his professor approached me and began speaking to me, presumably about the amazing son I had. Soon my blank stare betrayed my utter ignorance of the language, and the professor smiled and returned to the front of the room. He then addressed each of the students, presumably talking about their wonderful performance and their bright futures. He then turned to me (he wasn’t through with me yet), and told me to stand up and speak. Obediently, I stood, and made an brief, impromptu fool of myself and sat down. Actually, according to my wife and son, I did pretty well.

For the rest of the week, Chris and I kept watching Japanese TV, with its occasional flashes of English-speaking broadcasts, to find out what was happening in the Fukushima and Tokyo areas, since we had to return through Narita Airport in Tokyo. We watched one particular broadcast, all in Japanese, while the scientist-narrator described the latest developments with the failing reactors in Fukushima. At one point, his monotone took on an air of excitement, and he splayed his arms and uttered the word, “BOOM!” Now it was hard to tell if “BOOM!” was what just happened, or what was about to happen, or what might happen if control wasn’t restored. But “BOOM!” was not a reassuring word.

We also endured a small earthquake in generally stable Kumamoto, where Jason lives. It was about mid-week, and I was taking a shower. My wife told me that she thought we’d just had an earthquake, and I thought it was her imagination. It turned out that it was a 3.0, right there in our hotel!

The rest of our trip was equally memorable. Kumamoto, where Jason lives, is a fishing village with mountains on three sides. We visited the tops of the mountains, and got to see a simmering volcano up close. The drive to the mountaintops was invigorating, as the roads were steep, loaded with switchbacks, and dotted with mirrors so that you could see traffic coming around the bend. This was important because the roads are barely wide enough for cars to pass, and guard rails are a luxury.

The food in Japan is amazing, and the Japanese people love their food (and alcoholic beverages). In the areas we visited, rice and fish were the main staples. I’m not big on fish, especially for breakfast, but there was no getting away from it. Rice was in virtually every meal, so one morning at a Japanese style hotel, I loaded up on a bowl of rice, thinking it was the Japanese version of oatmeal. I then sprinkled a large tablespoonful of white crystalline powder on top for sweetness, and poured on a brown syrup for texture. It turned out that the white stuff was salt, and the syrup was teriyaki sauce! I was too embarrassed to leave it, so I wolfed it down.

At another meal at an authentic Japanese resort, I ate what I thought were bean sprouts (on top of rice, of course), only to find out that they were raw fish (baby eels, perhaps?). I also ate what I thought was a block of raw salmon, which I normally would have avoided anyway, but felt obligated to try. After I swallowed it, I was informed that it was a fish egg sack! Nothing goes to waste, I guess.

We also visited Nagasaki, the site of the dropping of the second atomic bomb during World War II. A memorial and museum there are somber and sobering. One striking thing about the museum was its frank and balanced view of the history leading up to the bombing, but I couldn’t help but feel more than a little disbelief that we, of all people, could use such a weapon in such a way. Near the end of the museum tour, there was a photograph of a boy with a story that moved me like few other things have. Here’s a link to the photo and a brief story about its photographer: http://www.societypolitics.com/?p=620. The story accompanying the picture in the museum describes how the boy stood at attention for a long time, biting his lip until it bled, and then watching as his baby brother’s body was cremated.

Nagasaki has fully recovered, and is a thriving seaport. Due to its strategic location, it is influenced by many foreign traders who have made their home there. While Japan has a tense relationship with neighboring China, its Chinatown area is bustling. Also striking is the Dutch influence, since, for a period of Japanese isolationism, the Dutch were the only foreign traders welcome. There’s a large Dutch village stacked up the mountainside like boughs on a cedar tree.

Throughout our trip, we were struck by the stoicism of the Japanese people. While they all expressed concern about the earthquake and its aftermath, nobody expressed selfish emotions, even those closest to the disaster. TV coverage showed multitudes of people helping out, and no disorder or looting. In fact, some coverage showed people waiting in line for hours for supplies, and when they ran out, merely turning and walking away.

We returned home a week after we arrived, and in that second week after the earthquake, much had returned to normal in the Tokyo area. Things continued to worsen in the Fukushima area, but the threat to Tokyo and areas south seemed to stabilize. Our visit to Japan showed us that the Japanese people are a proud and honorable lot, and they have a unique way of accepting the way things are (shikata ga nai) and immediately taking steps to rebuild. If only that were a universal human trait.

Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear

Chris and I attended the Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear on October 30, 2010 in Washington, DC. It was a lot of fun, but we got there late, and couldn't see or hear the Jon Stewart/Stephen Colbert show. Here are two signs I made - they were a hit among the nearby crowd. The picture was taken by a syndicated news photographer - that's me in the left foreground, and Chris is in the red coat to the right of me.

Throwing our Babies out with the Bathwater

This was published in the April 8, 2010 Trenton (NJ) Times.


Over the past couple of weeks, New Jersey’s new governor has turned our public education system inside out, and has vilified our teachers, the very people in whom we trust the future success of our children. This governor, while his intentions may be honorable, is demonstrating his proclivity for radical surgery – not with a scalpel; not with a hatchet; rather, with a chainsaw. His proposed massive cuts to public education, announced 6 days before school districts’ budgets were due, will reverse decades of progress, and reverberate for years to come.

It wasn’t so long ago that teachers’ salaries were discerned as woefully inadequate. Their salaries haven’t improved much – it’s just that their contracts, many of which were cast in better times, are seemingly more generous than what would be negotiated today. The governor is “asking” teachers’ unions to renegotiate contracts, while at the same time, decrying the pension program the state has failed to fund. Negotiations require give and take; the governor is proposing that teachers give or NJ will take.

Where is the public outrage? Parents, who for so long have demanded so much from public education, seem to be standing by in silence. In our double income society, teachers often serve as surrogate parents, acting as mentors, confidants, and role models. The decimation of our educational system will not stem the flow of jobs out of state, improve the lives of our children, or truly reduce overall costs. In a system that is driven by incentives to teach students to pass certain tests, and in which the teachers are so constrained by “political correctness” and fear of lawsuits, the governor’s proposed financial blow is too much to bear. Instead of fixing what’s broken, it will break the whole system.

Most teachers are highly educated and extremely dedicated, devoting much of their non-class time to serving their students. Specialists teach vital skills that are the bare minimum in the 21st century – reading, research, computer science and more; they challenge our brightest students and brighten our challenged ones. While many teachers have their unpaid summers off, they spend much of the summer taking courses (at their own expense) and readying their classrooms for the next school year. In addition, they often work nights and weekends preparing for class, and purchase things for their classrooms out of their own pockets. How many other professionals would be expected to do the same thing – and do so willingly?

Teachers’ unions provide representation for a large group of employees, and negotiate contracts that, on average, are fair and equitable to their members. One could argue that such unions are too powerful and use the threat of job actions to force their will. But the fact is that many union teachers continue to work without contracts (sometimes for years) because of their dedication to their profession and their students. Again, how many other professionals would be expected to do the same thing – and do so willingly? Perhaps the reason that teachers need a strong union is that no one else will stand up for them.

Governor Christie hasn’t fully transitioned from his persona as a tough prosecutor. His speeches, if you listen carefully, resemble a prosecution: first, he makes a bold accusation; then he selectively presents evidence to support his assertions; and finally, he ends with a summation that wraps it all up. But our teachers and their unions are unaccustomed to being defendants. As a further injustice, Governor Christie also assumes the role of judge, making and interpreting the rules, and instructing an unsuspecting jury.

It is very clear that Governor Christie feels that the NJEA, and by extension, its members, are guilty of wrongdoing and need to be punished. In his prosecutorial style, he’s painted the NJEA as the criminal, and teachers as accessories. Some of it is sincere (though heavy-handed), but some is surely showmanship. As governor, though, use of the bully pulpit should be tempered to maintain a balance between righteous indignation and constructive criticism, and preserve the dignity of those who deserve neither.

Make no mistake, the budget situation is dire. With high unemployment and social service costs on the one side, and reduced tax receipts on the other, something needs to be done. But it can’t be done overnight, and it can’t be on the backs of our already underpaid and overworked teachers. The proposed reductions will surely add to the rolls of unemployment, further reduce tax receipts, and destroy a lot of goodwill among hard-working, generous, caring professionals at a time when their best efforts are needed the most.

Parents, stand up and unite behind your children’s educators; you’ve seen their great work. Senators and Assemblymen/women, stand up for the very survival of our public education system. Governor, you’ve gotten everyone’s attention, but please stand down and work constructively with your education professionals to build a better system. The livelihoods of our children, our most precious resource, depend on it.

Joe

On March 5, 2009, my remarkable brother-in-law, Joe Johnson, passed away after a courageous battle against lung cancer. I wrote this tribute for him, and finished it several days before his passing, but did not have a chance to share it with him.

Joe

I grew up, the second oldest of six children, in central New Jersey, near the shore. My baby sister and older brother were the radical bookends of our clan, testing the boundaries with our parents, and helping to keep the foibles of the middle four in check. When I went to college, I joined a fraternity, and added many Brothers to my already sizable family. One day, I met a young freshman from a town near my parents’, and he chose me as his Big Brother, essentially a mentor. Not long after, my baby sister called to tell me that she was dating someone she really liked, and he was related to someone I knew. It turned out that she was dating the younger brother of my new fraternity brother. Eventually, they married, and now my Little Brother’s Little Brother is married to my little sister.

Joe is a great guy. Stocky in build, he’s always looked healthy and strong. As a longshoreman, he worked the docks in north Jersey for awhile, until he worked his way up to becoming a Captain for Circle Line, ferrying folks around the Statue of Liberty and across the Hudson River to Manhattan. On one trip, he even let my young son “drive” the boat, thrilling him and worrying the heck out of my wife.

Joe is the kind of guy who will do almost anything for anybody. He was a great son-in-law and friend to my father, who passed away last summer, and the two of them were often like peas in a pod. Every now and then, though, Joe would mischievously provoke Dad by asking him about doctors, ostensibly the bane of his existence. And Joe would also push Dad to achieve more. I remember a time about eight or nine years ago, when Dad was nearing the end of a long project, almost single-handedly reroofing the house he built about 50 years earlier. I had recently started helping Dad, respecting his leisurely pace; he was becoming a little nervous about being on the roof and had begun to welcome the help. Joe came over one day, and talked Dad into finishing the last ten percent in one shot. Actually, he made it tough for Dad to say, “No,” by simply ripping off the rest of the old roof.

About six years ago, Joe got the news that we all dread – he had cancer, a particularly nasty kind of non-small cell lung cancer. It was the same type that had claimed his own father at an early age. Joe’s genetic predisposition certainly increased his risk, but no one ever would have ever suspected it, given his apparent health and age (early forties). He had surgery to remove the cancer and half of one of his lungs, and followed that with rounds of radiation and chemotherapy.

For a while, things were looking good – he went back to work, got most of his energy back, and returned to doing most of the things he did before. His continuing treatments have been difficult, and at times, he’s had to slow down, but his recovery from the surgery was nothing short of remarkable. He has beaten unbelievable odds with his determination, and his indomitable spirit and drive. While incurable, his cancer has found a formidable foe.

I’ve now known Joe for over thirty years. In that time, I’ve never known him to feel sorry for himself or feel that he is better than anyone else. Ever since his initial diagnosis, Joe has made a point of enjoying life and his family. He’s spent a lot of time with his three wonderful sons, sharing their love of baseball, enjoying outdoor sports, and taking them places. I know that he’s great for my sister, and a great dad for his boys. His example of class and fatherhood is one that he can truly be proud of, and the world is certainly a better place because of a guy named Joe.

The Healthcare Debat-cle

A couple of conservative friends recently shared a pair of YouTube videos with me entitled, “Senior Citizen Speaks Out On Healthcare Bill.” In them, John C. Crawford of Texas blasts the bill in a compelling story, but unfortunately, I think at least half of it is built upon misinformation. I've watched these videos several times, and searched the H.R. 3200 document for the "exact excerpts," which don't exist. Some of the citations appear very similar to a viral email that FactCheck.org debunked most of in "Twenty-Six Lies about H.R. 3200."

It's amazing to me how someone can say, with a straight face, that something is not being taken out of context, when that's precisely what is being done. I'll accept that this man is a genuine person, and that his story is real. But what irks me is that he seems to be reading from some right wing interpretive (and creative) document and taking it at face value. Opinions are like epoxy: they start with a combination of basic elements, and harden when a strong catalyst is added. It’s ironic that as humans, we are endowed with the incomparable ability to think for ourselves, but many of us are encumbered by the incomprehensible tendency to avoid doing so.

Mr. Crawford makes a big deal of the "Death Counseling" concept which sounds an awful lot like the "Death Panels" we've heard so much about. The death counseling provisions of H.R. 3200 are as innocuous as a summer breeze and as common sense as coming in out of the rain if you want to stay dry. They merely allow payment to doctors if they provide counseling on end-of-life issues. I recently lost my father after a 5-year battle with lung cancer and its side-effects. He went through so much, and so much of it proved unnecessary. If he, and we, had known what was in store for him and what his options were, his suffering would have been greatly reduced, he would have been more at peace, and it would have cost a whole lot less. He had a living will, but it wasn't really clear. He was lucid to the end, and I tried to have a discussion with him about what kind of care he wanted. His hearing was just about gone, and he asked with a quizzical look, "What kind of stairs do I want?" When we finally cleared that up, he said, "You'll know what to do when it's time." Well, I didn't, and I wish we'd had professional help. A couple of his doctors hinted at things regarding end-of-life, but when we pressed them for recommendations, they backed off quickly.

A couple of things President Obama said in his address to Congress about healthcare reform keep me optimistic. First, he said, "I am not the first President to take up this cause, but I am determined to be the last." Second, he pointed out the obvious, that the spiraling cost of healthcare (like our deficits) is unsustainable. Third, he acknowledged that there are people on both side of the aisle who are obstacles to progress. And fourth, he said, "I believe it makes more sense to build on what works and fix what doesn't, rather than try to build an entirely new system from scratch." I'm very much for healthcare reform, and support the concepts that Obama spoke of in his address to Congress. However, I have a healthy skepticism, and want to know more precisely how things will work, and more precisely how they will be paid for. Being told that it will work and that it won't cost taxpayers a dime doesn't do it for me. The idea of offsetting much of the cost by stopping excesses, abuses and fraud in Medicare and Medicaid doesn’t do it for me either, since we shouldn’t be paying for such waste in the first place. It also doesn’t give me much confidence that government can manage a new program any better.

In reading some of the misquotated citations from H.R. 3200, I actually found that I was impressed with the depth of understanding of the authors. Instead of finding some covert, clever language, designed to create a foundation for socialized medicine, I found some reasonable concepts to allow individuals to make up their own minds (if they'd only choose to do so). For those who find the terms of H.R. 3200 to be deleterious to their health and welfare, I'd encourage them to read the terms of their free market insurance policy. That would be an eye-opener.

I think the root of our healthcare problem is in misapplied incentives. Doctors are incentivized to prescribe unnecessary drugs and perform unnecessary procedures to protect themselves from lawsuits - a perversion of preventive medicine - prevention of lawsuits trumping prevention of disease. Pharmaceutical companies are incentivized to make as much money as they can in the short time that they have market exclusivity, due to the pressures that are building to allow more and earlier generics and foreign sources; as a result of the short term thinking, R&D is suffering, and new products aren't forthcoming. Hospitals and clinics are incentivized to perform unnecessary procedures to pay for the expensive equipment they have and the fancy new facilities they're building to meet the needs of a clientele that wants the very best. And on and on...

I don’t agree with a “government option.” Government has no business running a business when there are plenty of businesses that are capable of providing service. What is needed is regulation - government’s insurance role should be to insure that there’s a level playing field and that nobody is denied coverage; any insurer must provide coverage for high and low risk alike. To allow the greatest competition, purchasing of insurance across state lines should be encouraged, not forbidden. Government should define a minimum (not minimal) standard of care (including end-of-life) that insurance companies must comply with. Beyond that, people can pay for whatever additional services they want, either through additional insurance or out of their own pockets.

Government should also define or adopt medical practice standards for all conditions, which doctors’ practice or malpractice should be measured against. Malpractice lawsuits should be strictly limited to illegal practices and gross negligence. Any punitive damages should go into a fund to pay for insuring those who can’t afford it. As long as doctors adhere to defined standards of practice, they should be protected from suit.

While I share the concerns and skepticism of many, I don't subscribe to the notion that healthcare can't be fixed so we shouldn't try. There is a lot of misinformation out there, on both sides, but the great thing about our country is that everyone gets to have their say. Out of that, I hope, will come a compromise solution that does the greatest good for the greatest number of people. But my hopes will only be realized if we think for ourselves, and “build on what works and fix what doesn't."

One More Day

Six years ago, my Dad, Wm. Clyde Morgan, was diagnosed with lung cancer. He passed away on July 1, 2009. The gift of the last six years is due to several doctors and nurses who took a sincere interest in him, and the wonderful care that my mother and sisters provided.

He kept his sense of humor to the end – in the week before his passing, he was expressing frustration at not knowing what the plan was for his treatment, and said he was going to call hospital information and ask about the condition of Mr. Morgan in Room 585. I remember telling people how we would know when Dad was getting better – he’d start telling jokes.

When my Dad was sick this last time, I kept thinking I’d see him tomorrow, so I could learn more about his life. He kept fighting to see one more day, out of his deep love for Mom and our family. Sometimes, I’d see him the next day, and he’d look stronger than the day before. He’d lived for one more day, and I’d still think I’d see him tomorrow.

He ran out of tomorrows. Now what we have are yesterdays, the memories of the fine man he was, his infectious smile and laugh, his sense of humor, his great wisdom, and his sense of honor. He’s left a great legacy in our memories, and we’ll always keep him in our hearts.

He fought the good fight. He finished the race. You done good, Clyde.

Eau de Clyde

I find myself remembering an odd but very comforting thing about my Dad, who passed away on July 1, 2009 – when I was a kid, we’d all gather around him when he came home from work, wearing this cologne – a proprietary blend, I think.

I call it Eau de Clyde: one part Mennen Skin Bracer, one part coffee (milk, no sugar), one part sawdust, two parts perspiration, one part Pall Mall, and one part Miller High Life.

Even after 45 years or so, it still lingers…

Facing Your Enemas

Once upon a time, discussions of this sort would have creeped me out. Now that I’ve matured, and learned the facts of life, it’s a lot easier to talk or write about these things – maybe too easy…

Despite dire warnings, the recommendations of doctors, loved ones and numerous celebrities, the very thought of it may be enough to bring the bravest and toughest among us to our knees. The indignity of it, the invasion of privacy, the probing, the pictures… Of course, I’m referring to a colonoscopy, which for many of us is a least-prized 50th birthday present.

At a small party my wife and I attended recently with a group of contemporaries, as conversations with folks our age tend to go, the discussion eventually got around to the subject of colonoscopies. Almost everyone had been through at least one, but two people hadn’t had theirs yet. One had scheduled an appointment, and it was coming up soon, so the taunts and teasing escalated as the night wore on. The conversation was hilarious as several people recounted their close encounters and contemplated posting their pictures on FaceBook, MySpace, or better yet, YouTube! Only my wife and another couple knew that my colonoscopy a month earlier had uncovered early stage colorectal cancer.

For those who haven’t had “the procedure” yet, the prep is the worst part, but for most, it’s not so bad. A handful of tablets or magic powder and a torrent of fluids the night before clears the way for the doctor to perform the exam while you’re in a blissful state of sleep. If it’s any consolation, you can imagine that the doctor’s perspective is a lot different, and that you’re certainly on the better end of things. If you’re employed, it’ll mean a day off, but you’ll need a chauffeur, which may make things a bit more challenging, and a bit less private. But once the procedure is completed, you’ll get over it and reward yourself by gorging and replenishing your system.

In my case, I had put the procedure off for several years, and finally ran out of excuses. The doctor who performed the routine examination removed a small non-suspicious growth, and as a matter of routine, sent it to the pathology lab, where it was found to be cancerous. Although surprised by the results, she felt that she had gotten it all with the initial excision. This was substantiated with additional testing performed at a cancer center that she recommended. While the doctors are confident, there’s no certainty that it’s gone. However, all indications are good, and with (ugghh!) more frequent ‘oscopies, the doctors feel they can effectively monitor for recurrence. I suggested that with training, since I spend so much time with my head up my butt, I could keep a close eye on it myself. Ever the professionals, they felt that an expert (second) opinion would be more beneficial than just relying on my own point of view.

The reason that colonoscopies are such a good idea is that they are relatively simple to perform, very effective at detecting disease, and don’t require hospitalization. Colorectal cancer is the third most prevalent, and the second most deadly form of cancer in the US. In 2015, an estimated 135,000 new cases were diagnosed, and approximately 49,000 lives were lost to the disease. Almost 1 person in 20 will be diagnosed with it during his or her lifetime. If the procedure is performed in time, doctors can detect many colorectal cancers early, when the cure rate is very high. If not caught soon enough, colorectal cancer is one of the more insidious forms of cancer, showing few, if any, symptoms. If caught in mid- to late-stage, the prognosis is equivocal, and the road ahead is potentially painful and debilitating, and very expensive.

Take it from me - denial is an ineffective preventive or defensive strategy, and avoiding the unpleasantness of a colonoscopy and its prelude is not a wise course of action. Some things are best dealt with head-on (pardon the metaphor), and the consequences of inaction or procrastination can be fatal. And as I’ve learned, having your head up your butt doesn’t provide as good a view as a trained professional can get. So, if you’ve been depriving some doctor the joy of examining your nether region, park your excuses and make the call. It could just save your life – it surely saved mine.

Saved by the Ax (Things Could be Worse)

This is a piece I wrote that was published as an op-ed in the Trenton Times on April 5, 2009. Beware of the jaw-dropper at the end of the first paragraph, and know that I'm fine.

When I received word late last year that my executive position in engineering and support operations at a local biopharmaceutical company was being eliminated as part of a reduction in force, I was understandably disappointed, but moderately optimistic. Since then, I’ve seen the bottom drop out of the job market and the ranks of the Brotherhood of the Vocationally Detached swell to almost unprecedented levels. Mom always told me, “Cheer up, Bob, things could be worse.” So I cheered up, and sure enough, things got worse. The colonoscopy that I’d been putting off for several years while I was too busy at work revealed early stage cancer.

My purpose in writing this is not to garner sympathy. I’m writing in hopes of a catharsis for myself, and possibly to encourage someone else who might be faced with similar circumstances. So here’s my advice in a nutshell: Learn from the past; deal with the present; and plan for the future. You can’t change the past; you live in the present; and your future will be what it is, but can be guided by how you prepare for it.

With regard to my medical condition, the lesson is a hard one: I should have listened to the expert advice (including my wife’s), and had a colonoscopy five years ago. There’s no certainty that it would have uncovered my problem, but it certainly would have reduced any anxiety about the procedure itself. For those who haven’t had it yet, the prep is not so bad, and the procedure is done while you’re in a blissful state of sleep – the doctor definitely has the worst view. So for the present, I’m dealing with it fairly well - gathering information, aggressively pursuing treatment, and now, announcing it to the world! As for the future, I’ve awakened to my mortality, and am taking the time to organize notes and records so that it won’t be such a chore to figure out where things are or how circumstances should be dealt with whenever my time is up.

The road ahead is not clear yet, but with age and otherwise good health on my side, the prognosis is excellent. Also a comfort, my wife’s medical plan is a good one, so loss of coverage with my job wasn’t a double-whammy. It may be a defense mechanism, but I’m even able to see humor in the situation, although most of it is probably too graphic to recount here. Odd as it may seem, I’m feeling pretty lucky. Usually, this type of cancer isn’t found until it’s further advanced. Ironically, if I was still working, I might have continued to make excuses for not having the procedure until it was too late. As such, I’m offering myself up as somewhat of a poster-boy, although anxious to know what the poster will ultimately look like, especially in light of pending healthcare reform.

With regard to my vocational detachment, the lesson is also a hard one: I had a good run, and my company treated me well, but I focused too hard on the job and didn’t prepare adequately for the inevitable changes that were occurring as the company shifted focus and was sold several times. The present is rife with challenges, but opportunities as well, and I’m reaching out in many directions to find the right mix of both. For the future, the networking I’m doing now (and have neglected in the past), will continue to pay dividends for both me and those in my network.

The current job market is daunting, and with so many layoffs being announced, the competition for relatively few job openings is fierce. The flip side, though, is that many companies are not only downsizing for the sake of reducing costs; the smart ones are learning from the past, and dealing with the present by reorganizing to realign themselves for the future. They’re also realizing that experienced people who have seen ups and downs before can provide an immeasurably valuable perspective to help focus their vision. The opportunities that result are ripening for those of us who understand where we can truly add value to a company as the economy recovers, as it surely will. For those of us whose finances are drowning in the perfect storm of unemployment coupled with tanking retirement investments, adding value is also the best hope for our own economic recovery.

Some would regard these life events as an emotional roller coaster. They’re actually more like the stock market or the current financial crisis – you never know when there’s going to be a rise or fall (opportunity or challenge), but you know something’s going to happen. As an engineer with an MBA, I’ve learned that meeting a challenge or solving a problem requires an understanding of the situation, identification and analysis of alternatives, planning for the chosen solution, implementation of the plan, and follow-up with adjustments when needed. The challenges that I and many others are faced with require a thoughtful and diligent problem-solving process, and the opportunities are there for full recovery for all of us.

Learn from the Past. Deal with the Present. Plan for the Future. And for goodness sake, if you’ve been putting off seeing your doctor, schedule that appointment now!

* * * * *

Okay; if you're still with me, check out this companion piece, which won't be published in print for reasons that will become obvious.

Turning the Other Cheek

My recent essay, “Saved by the Ax,” is really about Making Your Adversity Something Special. That’s a bit of a mouthful, so an acronym is in order: MYASS. That’s right, “Saved by the Ax” is really about MYASS, so this story is just another way of looking at it.

As MYASS was developing, I had trouble keeping my thoughts from wandering and my ideas focused. In other words, I was having difficulty keeping my head in MYASS. As hard as I tried, I just kept putting more stuff in MYASS, and eventually had to take some out, because MYASS was just getting too big and ugly.

When I was nearly done, I had several people look at MYASS to see if it was okay. Several responded that I should Keep It Short & Sweet. In other words, using another acronym, they were actually saying, “KISS MYASS!” While that may sound harsh, I appreciated their advice, and now MYASS is in better shape than it ever was before.

So now MYASS is ready for primetime. I’m trying to get MYASS in print or on the radio or on TV. If that happens, MYASS will be around forever. In fact, you’ll be able to google MYASS. Yes, you’ll be able to look up MYASS on the internet. Perhaps MYASS will develop a following, and have a Facebook identity, or show up on YouTube, or even better, LinkedIn. If it gets established on LinkedIn, you’ll be able to pull all kinds of things out of MYASS whenever you need them.

MYASS features two Circumstances Having Equally Exacting Kickers, again begging an acronym: CHEEK. When you put my two CHEEKs together, you can see MYASS whole! One CHEEK relates to my unemployment, where I’m out on MYASS, and the other CHEEK relates to my early stage colon cancer, where I’ve got a bug in MYASS. While each CHEEK is clearly separate, they come together to a point that is both simple and profound.

As MYASS has developed, I’ve become rather attached to it, partly because MYASS embodies my intelligence. Although MYASS isn’t very deep, if you have a slow computer, MYASS might freeze. You may have to get out of MYASS at that point, then boot MYASS again, then get back in to MYASS and pick up where you left off. MYASS gets backed up every time I change something, so if you’re interested, you might want to take a fresh look at MYASS once in a while. I hope you’ll treat MYASS with a little respect, and once you’ve had enough, I’ll promise not to ask you to look at MYASS again!

* * * * *

Editor’s note: MYASS was found on the internet, and is attributed to Derek Iverson’s, Millenium Year Application Software System. A few of his analogies have been adapted, but most are fresh. I used it previously in a parody about a Multiple Year Analytical Spreadsheet that I developed at work, which I referred to as “Raw Material Inventory – MYASS.” I was working on its companion modules, “Accounts Payable – MYASS,” “Customer Relations – MYASS,” “Project Management – MYASS,” and “SOX Compliance – MYASS.” Each would be a single user per version of MYASS.

The Presidential Race

The 2008 Presidential race has brought to front and center something that many thought would never be an issue: the race of the President. We’ve come a long way in the last fifty years, but we still have a long way to go. As enlightened as we think we are, many of us still harbor some latent prejudices, and they cloud our judgment. With the Presidential election upon us, we may soon see where we are in this continuum.

The last three generations have seen a tremendous shift in our society. For those of us in the middle, “Baby-boomers,” mostly, the greatest shift occurred as we were growing into adulthood during the tumultuous 50s, 60s and 70s. Our parents and their forebears grew up more isolated, and our children (and now their children, a fourth generation) have been more exposed to the blending that has been taking place in our melting pot of a nation. Our society is becoming more homogeneous, not in terms of class and social status, but in terms of the differences between peoples. However, some cultural and ethnic differences remain, and they still tend to divide us.

One thing that continues to divide America, and indeed the world, is the very notion of preserving ethnicity. While it is important to remember our roots and keep our cultural heritages alive, we must not continue to isolate ourselves in our ethnic silos. Celebrating various cultural heritages can be enriching and entertaining for everyone.

For the enlightened among us, it’s no longer adequate to think in terms of tolerance – we need to do better. We must learn to accept and respect our ethnic and cultural differences, and understand that each of us sees things uniquely, viewed through the prism of our individual experiences and what we are taught.

Born in the 50s, I came of age as the civil rights movement changed the course of our great country. I witnessed the acts of civil disobedience that exploded into lawlessness and chaos, from Rosa Parks’ refusal to ride in the back of the bus, to Martin Luther King’s assassination, to the riots that followed, to the civil unrest that continued through the Vietnam War era. The civil rights movement was a social revolution of sorts, and we came out the other side of it with a different perspective. We began to realize that in this country we thought so advanced, with opportunity so equal, things weren’t as advanced or equal as we had believed. As the next generation began to germinate, though, this different perspective became genetically encoded as this group grew to be less discerning of differences.

There are many differences that are worth preserving: right and wrong, child and adult, Democrat and Republican… But at our core as human beings, we’re all people. Race, like religion, sex, and age, should not be a determinant in elections, business, education, or rights of any kind. None of us gets to choose our parentage or the circumstances of our birth, so we’ve got to make the best of who and what we are. Of course, as a white, Anglo-Saxon Protestant, middle-aged male, that’s easy for me to say.

During the primaries and the Presidential election campaign, a lot has been said about Barack Obama becoming the first black president, and Senator Obama doesn’t dispute it. He refers to himself, rightfully so, as African-American. I’ve never cared for that politically correct term, but if anyone is African-American, it’s Barack Obama – son of a black African man and a white American woman. In his own words, he’s “an American with the blood of Africa coursing through his veins.” But if we have to label him, why can’t we just see him as the first Hawaiian president? After all, he was born in Honolulu!

This election demonstrates that we’re moving in the right direction. In an era when people of all races, religions, sexes and orientations are finding doors opening, the fact that Barack Obama, Hillary Clinton and Sarah Palin have reached where they are is testimony. But for those of us who remember how things were before the social revolution, continuing to think and talk about the differences between peoples only reinforces a latent prejudice within us. Senator McCain’s campaign has sought to catalyze a reaction with intimations that Senator Obama is somehow different. We need to focus on what we have in common, how we are the same, and how we are all in this together.

Having come to this enlightened realization, I recently found myself needing to identify my race on an application, among the choices: “White, African-American, Latino, Asian or Other;” I thought about it for a moment, chose “Other,” and wrote in next to it, “Human.” When I vote in this year’s Presidential election, I 'll take one step further, and cast my vote for the man who embodies the greatest hope for our future and the future of humanity.

The Terrorists Within

This was published as and op-ed in the October 30, 2008 Trenton Times.

After eight years under a hapless President George W. Bush, I was looking forward to this year’s presidential election with great optimism. Now the anticipation is giving way to frustration and disillusionment, as the candidates, their party machinery and the political system itself focus too often on tearing down rather than building up. Even a man with the strength of convictions of maverick John McCain can’t avoid desperate acts in the face of possible defeat, and Barack Obama and his message of hope can’t withstand the wrecking ball forever.

One of the key issues early in this campaign, and a cornerstone of the Republican party’s platform, has been the war against terrorism. Terrorism is all about putting fear in the minds of a population, so that it acts irrationally and squanders its resources on the wrong things. Ironically, instilling fear is a tool that Republicans seem to wield expertly, in casting aspersions on their Democratic opponents. The Democrats seem less comfortable with this tool, but use it nonetheless. It doesn’t matter that truth is twisted or deformed in the process – as long as it achieves the aggressor’s aim. This form of terrorism is insidious, and ultimately, very harmful. Even our most compelling current challenge, the global economic crisis, has fallen victim to this form of terrorism, as partisanship crept into the discussion and fanned the flames of fear.

It seems that Republicans view a good offense as the best defense, and conversely, Democrats see a good defense as the best offense. What often results from this is that Republicans go into the attack mode first, and try to draw the Democrats into the fray. Democrats, in trying to fend off the attacks, seem weak by comparison. When Republicans attack, they often allege character and personal flaws (“socialism,” “elitist,” “palling around with terrorists,” etc.). When Democrats become the aggressors, their attacks generally seem more about policy differences (“out of touch,” “four more years,” “doesn’t get it,” etc.), and are therefore somewhat less personal.

In effect, these tactics are designed to plant negative thoughts in the minds of voters, either through innuendo or direct accusations. For an event of such import and such historic significance as this election, that’s a sad commentary. Our lives can be much better when we work together and accentuate the positives. Synergy is all about the whole being greater than the sum of its parts, and this unproductive discourse we’re seeing is, at best, a zero sum game. At worst, it’s a downward spiral toward collective failure.

Both candidates have adopted “change” as a theme, although one could argue that Senator Obama adopted it and Senator McCain co-opted it. The change I seek is to find ways to have civil discourse over issues that are important. The loudest voices aren’t necessarily the right ones to listen to. Unfortunately, we don’t often have all the facts, and the mantras that we hear begin to take on an air of reality as they strike chords that harmonize with some of our own thoughts and preconceptions.

I’ve read Barack Obama’s books, not out of blind loyalty to a man whose words resonated with me, but out of curiosity about the man behind those words. I’d read a couple of excerpts of one of his books, and Joe Biden was right – Obama is incredibly articulate. In his first book, Dreams from My Father, Obama talked about his early life, and his search for self which led him to learn as much as he could about his estranged father. In his second book, The Audacity of Hope, he outlined his political and social beliefs in self-effacing and brutally honest terms. He acknowledged his shortcomings, but made no excuses. His words paint a picture of an America that is fair, civil, strong and prosperous, and country and society that all Americans can be even more proud of.

For once, I’d like to see a presidential campaign where the candidates try to win the voters’ support by focusing on what they stand for, rather than trying to malign their opponent’s character, background or motivations. I hope that Barack Obama realizes that there are many of us who are starving to hear of the good that can be done, and notwithstanding the low-road campaign he’s been forced to turn to, will restore his positive message and return to the high road once this is all over. I hope he truly remembers where he came from and his reason for running in the first place. If he does, and if he prevails in the election, our great country will see a resurgence in the world and a return of our standing as a global leader. If he forgets, or if he doesn’t succeed in the election, I fear for our future, because the terrorists within will have won.

A Bitter Bill to Swallow

This was published as an op-ed in the October 2, 2008 Trenton Times, in response to the failed vote in the House of Representatives on the economic "bailout" plan, in advance of the revote expected on October 3.


There are many words in the English language that have dual meanings, but the duplicity of one word, “oversight,” is at the heart of the singular most important debate of our time. Our economy is in shambles, in large part due to the lack of oversight by our government, which allowed this perfect storm to brew without taking any definitive action. It seems, however, that there has been plenty of oversight, of the “Oops, I guess that one got by me” variety.

While few Americans are thrilled about the thought of investing $700 billion with no guarantee that any of that investment will be worth anything in the future, there seems to be little doubt that something urgently needs to be done. The mere failure of Congress to pass the “bailout” plan caused a one-day drop in market value of over $1 trillion. My guess is that when Congress reconvenes, it will reach agreement on the plan, repackaged as a “rescue” plan, with a couple of face-saving tweaks to give some of the previous opponents cover. This bitter bill to swallow is perhaps all that stands between us and the abyss.

What should have been a non-partisan call-to-arms has devolved into a childish morass of finger-pointing and name-calling. Our Republican President, as lame a duck as he may be, tried to rally the Congressional forces together to do the right thing, and do it quickly. There can be no denying that the current economic debacle is having global consequences, and our already shaky world standing is taking yet another hit. Nevertheless, the President’s call was met with backlash, even from his own party.

It’s amazing that Senator McCain “suspended” his campaign to go back to Washington to help get the bill passed, with the result being that 2/3 of his party’s contingent in the House of Representatives voted against it. At the same time, Senator Obama decided to remain on the sidelines and leave the legislative action to those who have been most engaged, and 60% of his party voted for the bill. The same day that Senator McCain said he was “suspending” his campaign, he appeared at the Clinton Global Initiative meeting and gave what was arguably the best speech on the economy of his campaign, and made a big point of his personal magnanimity in putting his campaign on hold.

Despite Senator McCain’s stated desire to eliminate partisanship from the discussions about how to resolve this problem, it seems that his involvement has done anything but that. The plan, put forth by the Republican administration, went down in defeat. When the votes were counted on Monday, Senator McCain’s party came up far short of the number that needed to be delivered, and the Democrats came up with more than should have been necessary. In the insanity that ensued, Republicans accused Democrats of killing this vital bill.

Our economy is teetering precariously on the brink of disaster. As we’ve heard ad nauseum, “It’s not just about Wall Street, it’s about Main Street.” At the heart of the problem is the credit market, which provides money for people and companies to buy things, so that everyone benefits. People benefit by being able to have things today and pay for them in the future. Companies benefit in the same way, but also by having working capital to conduct business. Certainly, the credit market mess has an impact on Wall Street, because the companies that depend on credit to do business become less profitable when they can’t borrow to meet their normal business needs. The solution needs to be one that shores up the credit market, so that the rest of the economy isn’t held hostage. Then we can figure out a way to make sure this can’t happen again. This is a time for first aid – the patient is bleeding to death.

Congress needs to pass the bill, whether it’s a “bailout” bill or a “rescue” bill. But in doing so, it needs to ensure that it has the power to control the way the funds are allocated, and maximize the possible return on our citizenry’s unprecedented financial investment. Congress clearly cannot give a blank check to the Treasury, and hope that it doesn’t gamble all our money away.

So, in the end, what remains to be seen with whatever solution Congress adopts is whether, in this instance, Congressional “oversight” becomes a responsibility or continues to be an excuse.

Tribute to a Great Man

Several years ago, the passing of Johnny Carson gave me pause. He touched many people, and the outpouring of affection from fans and friends was incredible, but it’s a shame that he wasn’t around to receive it. It made me realize that we often say great things about great people when it’s too late for them to hear it, and that’s what is really sad. It also made me realize that I have a chance to say great things about a great man who’s still very much alive, my dad.

My dad is a man of humble beginnings, a man whose own father died at a young age. Born in Tennessee, he moved north to New Jersey as a teenager. Even after sixty-some years, he still has a tinge of a Tennessee twang. When World War II struck, he was drafted into the army during his high school junior year. He never went back. His army service did, however, give him an opportunity to either go to college or learn a trade, and he chose the latter.

He and my mom reared six kids, three boys and three girls. We each had our quirks, and each posed a challenge for our parents. I was second oldest, so my older brother had broken the ice for me. Then again, I think he broke the ice on me. We bickered a lot as kids, but that changed as we grew older. My mom's desperate refrain, "Just wait 'til your father gets home," made us all a dad-fearing bunch.

My dad was a small residential building contractor as I was growing up. I remember going to work with him, helping when I could, but mostly just watching. My older brother got to help with the more complex stuff, like operating power tools and doing trim work. I was the guy with the shovel or the broom most of the time, but when we were installing subfloors or sheathing, my dad entrusted me with a hammer and nails. More than once, I heard him say, “Bob, you hammer like lightnin’ – never strike twice in the same place!”

When I was in high school, my dad acquired an in-ground swimming pool franchise, and we became pool builders. All my years of experience with a shovel paid off, as we had a lot of digging to do. We poured a lot of concrete in those days, and built a few cabanas along the way.

As I was growing up, my dad spoke with some disdain about engineers. Since he was a bright guy with a lot of practical experience, most engineers couldn’t match his pragmatism and simplicity. So, of course, when I decided to go to college, I went into engineering. It wasn’t until well after I graduated that I realized that he was proud of my achievement, and that he really didn’t think that engineers were useless.

I recall in high school and college, thinking about how different my dad and I were. That was then, this is now. Now I realize how similar we really are. Some of it is genetic, but some is from the example he set, and the many things he taught and I learned with neither of us realizing it. He taught me responsibility and independence, integrity and tenacity. And he taught me the building trades.

We never had the father/son talk, but by his example, he showed me what to look for in a wife: a woman with charm, intelligence, strength and warmth. My parents have been married more than 55 years, and care for each other deeply, although at times they see things differently. They’ve always been good together.

My dad taught me loyalty and humility, and showed me that while they don’t always produce the best results, they always matter. He's hit a few bumps along the way, but he's always taken the high road, where the bumps are there to give you a better view. He’s always been there for me, and I’ll always be there for him, a sort of in loco parentis quid pro quo.

He’s a creature of habit, some more endearing than others. We used to get a kick out of his annual trek to Florida to visit family. He always stopped at the same hotel in Dunn, North Carolina. And for the longest time, we could always predict what he would order at a restaurant: prime rib, end cut. Until recently, he awoke in the wee hours of the morning, and went to bed in the late afternoon. And for the past fifty years or so, he’s always had an Oldsmobile. Now that they’re no longer made, he’s vowed to keep his ’89 running as long as he does.

He has a wry sense of humor, and a quiet demeanor. He generally keeps his opinions to himself, but every now and then, makes a thoughtful and profound observation. Of course, having been raised in the era of the Depression and the Second World War, he harbors a few prejudices and occasionally says things that just aren’t politically correct. Nevertheless, he treats people with dignity, and appreciates the goodness in them.

Over the past few years, my dad has had more than his share of medical problems. He’s scored a hat trick against cancer, surviving skin, prostate and lung cancers. After the first two encounters, he still had enough gumption to, almost singlehandedly, reroof the house he built almost 50 years ago. The house was a great home to all of us growing up, and surely it will be his home for the rest of his life.

Nowadays, with all he's been through, he feels that he’s not half the man he used to be. Oddly enough, he’s still twice the man I am.

Life's Lessons Learned

Every now and then, I think back to some of the defining moments of my childhood, and some of the lessons my parents taught, or tried to teach me. Two incidents really stand out, each with its own distinct conclusion and meaning. Of course, as time heals all wounds, it also has a way of changing history, so maybe it didn’t really happen this way…

I was in the third or fourth grade, trying to find a way to fit in with the other kids. The youngest in my class, a bookworm with a birthday three days before the cutoff, and a middle child, I just didn’t have that rebel gene. But I wanted so desperately to be cool. Mom and Dad smoked and that seemed cool. I would soon find out how wrong I was. One day, as my mother was sending me off to school, she reached in to my coat pocket to insert money for the Scholastic books that I wanted to buy. To my horror and her dismay, when her hand emerged, it held one of her cigarettes and a book of matches. What ever divined her to reach in to that pocket at that time, I’ll never know or understand, but what happened next, I’ll never forget.

My father was still home, just about to leave for work. As the kitchen fell silent, he said, “Bob, when I get home, you and I are gonna sit down and have a smoke, man-to-man.” I remember my emotions, not of pride, but of shame and fear. I knew I was in big trouble, and figured I would be severely punished. I don’t know how I made it through the day, but I know I put the time to good use trying to think of all the angles possible to garner sympathy and understanding. A loose tooth managed to get a lot looser that day, and just before my father came home, it managed to “fall” out, and it was a bloody mess. No humane parent could mete out punishment to a child in that state, right? Wrong!!!

He gave me a little time to get myself together, then the family gathered in the kitchen. I was to be used as an example to my older brother and four younger siblings. Dad sat me down on a chair opposite his, and pulled out his pack of Pall Malls. This was not looking good – these were not on the same level as the mild, mentholated, filtered Salems that Mom smoked. Nevertheless, Dad was determined to, as he put it, “teach you to smoke like a man.” He lit one up for himself and drew it in deeply, slowly exhaling for effect. He then lit one up for me, and told me to do the same thing. It was hard to do, bawling as I was, but I had no choice – there was no way out of this. So I did as I was told, and choked and coughed like there would be no tomorrow. The lesson was learned, and I wouldn’t touch another cigarette until college, when the peer pressure overshadowed the lesson I’d learned so well.

The second incident occurred when I was about thirteen or fourteen. I had a newspaper route, with about twenty customers, a route that covered about a mile between Shrewsbury and Little Silver. Just off the route was the Little Silver railroad station, with its newspaper, magazine and candy stand. As a kid with a little bit of money, the lure of candy was strong. Eventually, though, the lure of the Playboy magazine on the rack behind the counter became too great to resist, and I bought a copy. I remember hiding it under my bed. One day, my mother confronted me in front of my father with the magazine she had found while cleaning my room. Again, I was horrified and ashamed. I was in big trouble!

This time, though, and I’ll never forget it, Dad said, “Bob, I don’t want you to be buying this kind of stuff and hiding it around the house. From now on, I’ll buy it and you can borrow it.” I think I can still hear the sound of two jaws simultaneously dropping to the floor, mine and my mother’s, but maybe she was complicit in this. There may have been a momentary elevation of my pride, but somehow the magazine never seemed the same after that, and my growth in maturity was instantaneous.

These two incidents are among many that helped shape me, and their impact was both profound and lasting. I recall them with humor and fondness, but most of all with the deep respect for two parents who taught me so much.

If Not for Moms

If not for moms, I wouldn’t be here to write this and you wouldn’t be here to read it. This statement of the obvious aside, consider the roles mothers play in our lives, and indeed the world we live in. When we do that, simply loving them and appreciating them will seem wholly inadequate.

Before we are born, mothers provide us with a safe, comfortable, yet cramped environment. They nourish us without thought or hesitation. After we are born, they continue to nourish and protect us, through an invisible umbilicus. They’re there to teach us, to mend our hurts, and to instill the beginnings of our belief systems. They tell us the truth, generally, and show us how to take care of others.

In terms of what’s best for us, mothers are seldom wrong. And while they may not necessarily be nosy, mothers don’t miss much. As Spanky said in the Little Rascals, “You can fool some of the people some of the time, but you can’t fool Mom!” Even when our mothers are not around, the moral compasses they’ve set for us guide our subliminal conscience.

As we grow, they continue to take care of us, both emotionally and physically. Though relations may become strained, their love is almost always unconditional and complete. As young men grow older, they look to their mothers for examples of what they want in their own partners. As young women grow older, they often find themselves mimicking their mothers, a silent and subtle tribute to their influence.

In world affairs, though women can be as tough as nails, they often show a tenderness that portends motherhood, demonstrating patience and a willingness to understand, yet a resoluteness to stand up for what is right. It’s difficult to imagine a mother as a dictator, but easy to imagine one as a fair and humane leader.

Several years ago, my wife and I had the privilege of being recognized and honored by President George W. Bush for our volunteer work. When I introduced my two sons to him, he issued an Executive Order to them, which was to me a most profound message: “Listen to your mother.” Imagine the world if everyone did so!

At First Sight

When I first saw her across the crowded room at a college dance, it took my breath away. But then a friend brought me back to earth with, “Morgs, give it up – she’s taken.” She was way out of my league. Who was I, anyway, to think she’d even acknowledge my existence. Little did any of us know, she would define my existence.

I made a point of talking to her that night, although I’m sure I made no impression. She and her friends were friends with my friends, and our paths would surely cross again in the future. I remember telling my compadre, “I’m in Luuuvvvv…,” something we kidded each other about any time we met a girl we wanted to get to know, but this was different.

This girl who captivated me had been dating a guy for several years in high school and into college, and although I was discouraged, I wasn’t deterred. A year or so later, my opportunity arose. She was no longer “taken,” and in fact, had dated another friend of mine. As it turned out, I had dated a friend of hers, so our paths did continue to cross. When I finally mustered the courage to ask her out, we settled on a safe date, dinner with mutual friends. The significance of the calendar date, February 14, was lost on me.

We attended different colleges, about fifteen miles apart. Mine was a predominantly male school, hers one hundred percent female. When I arrived at her school at the appointed time to pick her up, the girls at her dorm told me that she had gone home for the weekend. A lesser man might have taken that as a sign and given up on the spot. Not me – I didn’t even know where “home” was, but I was determined to see this through. Someone gave me her phone number, and I called her. She gave me directions to her house, and I was on my way.

When I arrived at her house, she gave me some more troubling signals. She said her father had become ill and had been taken to the hospital, but she would still go out with me. At about nine o’clock, she would have to call in, and might have to go home. I thought this was quite an elaborate ruse, but I was really spellbound. We met our friends and had dinner, and at about nine, she excused herself to make a phone call. I anxiously awaited my fate, wondering if I had passed the test, or if her father’s illness was going to be her excuse to end her suffering gracefully. She came back to the table and announced that everything was fine. As is turned out, her father had really been taken to the hospital, and this was for real!

What started out on such shaky ground eventually blossomed, and we married and had two wonderful boys. We still keep in touch with many of our old friends from those days, and every now and then, we reminisce about how we got together.

She’s the type of person who lights up a room when she enters it. She’s not a showboat, and shies away from being the center of attention, but she has a warmth that makes everyone feel comfortable around her. She’s classy and sassy, and sometimes a bit brassy. She more than makes up for my quiet demeanor, and makes me proud to be with her. She’s a great mother, and as a teacher (now a school librarian), she touches the lives of many young children. I don’t mind sharing.

Recently, she arrived at a meeting that I was also attending, and sat across the room so as not to disturb the meeting. As I sat and looked at her, I thought, “I’m in Luuuvvvv…” Oh, and by the way, Valentine’s Day 2012 is our thirty-seventh together.

Land Of The Rising Son

Last summer, soon after he graduated from The College of New Jersey, our oldest son, Jason, decided to move to Japan. His mother and I didn’t take it as an affront that he was going to live just about as far away from us as he possibly could, but the thought did cross our minds. Before Jason even got on the plane in August, Chris and I conspired to visit him for Christmas, and take our younger son, Adam, with us. Back from our whirlwind Christmas tour of this fascinating country, we now understand why Jason has chosen to make it his home for a couple of years, and we are quite proud of the man he is becoming.

So if not just to get as far away from his parents as possible, you may wonder, “What in the world would make him want to live there?” Well, at TCNJ, he majored in biology and minored in English, but studied Asian culture and Japanese language. He studied for a semester in Japan, and along with several friends (including his girlfriend from TCNJ, Caitlin, who now lives a short tram-ride away), signed up with the Japanese government’s JET (Japan Exchange and Teaching) program to teach English. How ironic that he was going to Japan to teach English, a language we rarely heard him speak!

In the few months leading up to our departure, Jason offered meager advice about what we should study and what travel arrangements we should make. Before he left, he had handed us one of his Japanese language textbooks from TCNJ and told us to study some Japanese lettering so that we would be able to find our way around. Of course, we didn’t do that. As our departure time drew closer, he offered more advice over the internet, which in toto, was just about perfect. He made suggestions about conversion of cash, train travel, places to visit and places to avoid, and what to expect in terms of English-speaking people.

The airline tickets were earned with frequent flyer miles, not from decades of travel, but from miles and miles of credit card receipts (more aptly, “Frequent Buyer Miles”). I was concerned about how easy the online ticketing process was, and thought for sure that we’d be bumped, the flights would be cancelled, or in light of recent carry-on restrictions, our seats would be removed to make room to stow more checked luggage owned by paying customers. As it turned out, except for one small incident, the flights were terrific - on time, surprisingly good food, and very pleasant flight attendants. The one small incident occurred after our brief changeover in Chicago. Chris and Adam are both white-knuckle flyers, and as we ascended back into the storm clouds over the Windy City that day, our plane was struck by lightning. It sent the flight attendants scurrying, and after a couple of minutes, the captain announced over the intercom, “You may have noticed that we were just hit by lightning. The flight crew has checked everything, and we don’t see any problems, so we’re going to continue on our way.” I could be mistaken, but I think I also heard him mutter, parenthetically, “(We’ve only got about 6000 miles to go, most of it over open water, so we’re gonna give it a shot…).”

We also experienced time travel, almost like, “Back to the Future.” We initially traveled from Newark to Chicago, then from Chicago (struck by lightning) to Japan. Because of the travel time and the time differences, we left on a Friday morning, and arrived on a Saturday afternoon. On the way home, though, we left Tokyo at 3:00 on a Sunday afternoon, and arrived in Chicago at 1:00 that same afternoon! As we were about to leave Japan, I remarked to Adam, “We’re going to arrive in Chicago two hours ago!”

In addition to flight arrangements, I also made hotel arrangements at four different hotels online, which normally wouldn’t have concerned me, except that the information available about the hotels was somewhat sketchy. During the trip, I sheepishly approached each registration desk, wondering if there would be room at the inn. I really lucked out, though, and almost everything worked out perfectly. The hotels were clean, well-appointed, efficiently small, and staffed by very nice English-speaking people. Most of the hotels were within walking distance of trains, arguably the best means of travel around the country. In fact, in Kyoto, our excellent accommodations, the Hotel Granvia Kyoto, were at the train station.

As an aside, for anyone planning to visit Japan, we heartily recommend obtaining a Japan Rail Pass, which only visitors can obtain, and only by purchasing vouchers at select locations outside the country and exchanging them at select locations in Japan. They don’t make it easy, but they do make it worthwhile. The trains are clean, the bullet trains are spacious, and they are all ON TIME! The rail pass is valid on many of the bullet trains and many local trains, trams, buses and ferries throughout the country. Just flash your pass and you’re on your way! Some of the train stations, including the one in Kyoto that included our hotel, were teeming with people. The choreography of the masses looked like that of a gargantuan ant farm, with people crisscrossing at breakneck speed. A couple of times, I was swept some distance out of my way, as I feared one misstep might cause the whole cast to tumble.

We found it fairly easy to find our way around, particularly in the big cities, and especially in Tokyo. Many signs are in English, and things are well marked. In fact, we had less difficulty following signs and directions in Japan than we did when we returned to Newark Airport and tried to follow the signs to the shuttle bus for the remote parking lot.

Jason and Caitlin met us in southwest Japan on our second day, after we’d warmed up our shiny new rail passes with several legs of the trip from Tokyo. While we were visiting their home town of Kumamoto and then nearby Kyoto, Jason and Caitlin acted as tour guides, taking us to some of their favorite haunts and eating establishments. The scenery was incredible, the food was excellent, and the shopping was amazing. We even went to a karaoke bar. When asked if I would try to sing karaoke, I replied, “There isn’t enough beer in Japan to make me do karaoke!” Well, apparently there is…and allegedly, there’s a video.

Some of the cultural differences we encountered were fascinating. The Japanese seemed almost obsessive about washing hands before eating, handing out wet towels or towelettes whenever we sat down at a restaurant. But they didn’t offer us any napkins, so I guess the idea is to pre-emptively wipe your hands and face. Also, in lavatories, there were sinks, but generally no towels or dryers to dry with. So you either had to wring your hands dry or wipe them on your pants, which of course weren’t dirty because you had pre-emptively wiped your hands at mealtime.

It also seemed as though the Japanese were preoccupied most of the time, because they seldom looked us in the eye unless they were either serving us, or it was otherwise part of their job. Normally, I try to make eye contact and say, “Hi,” as I pass people. In our travels, most of the people either looked down or straight ahead, as if oblivious to us. Maybe they are just overwhelmed by the sheer number of people they encounter every day, and are just operating on overload. When they were serving us, though, they were held in rapt attention and almost tripped over themselves to help us. One exception was a cabbie in Tokyo who, although apparently Japanese, was the quintessential cabdriver from hell, never leaving the comfort of the driver’s seat of his smoke-filled cab, and driving at about 50 mph through the busy streets of Tokyo. He must have gotten his training in New York City!

We also found that many Japanese people smoke cigarettes, and look like they only recently started, ever conscious of this powerful new thing between their fingers, and puffing furiously. At a couple of restaurants, the smoke was so thick that I longed for the smoke-free restaurants in New Jersey. At one place in particular, a young woman chain-smoked, and even the nearby exhaust hood was no match for her.

We were also struck by the young adults, whose dress ranged from school uniforms to western styles. Apparently, school uniforms are considered attractive among students, and play an important part in their adolescent mating rituals. On the other hand, we saw many young men dressed in the gangsta look, with their baggy jeans hanging at mid-butt, and their baseball hats askew. I wondered if they’d one day emulate Jason’s eclectic style of dress – bright colors, plaids with stripes, too-small tee shirts, etc. (I used to say that he shopped at Barnum & Bailey).

The streets and countryside were essentially devoid of trash and graffiti, largely due to the work ethic of the people employed to clean up such things. But keeping these things under control serves as a deterrent to others, who are less likely to create a new mess rather than just add to an old one. I can’t recall noticing any chewing gum crushed into the sidewalks, like so many stars that mark the entrances to our shopping malls, so apparently it’s not a problem either.

After about a week in Japan, we finally began to understand the language that Jason and Caitlin spoke with some fluency. By then, we had mastered, “Domo Arigato,” while choking back, “Mister Roboto.” Perhaps the most useful phrase we learned was, “Nihongo ga wakarimasen,” which means, “I don’t understand Japanese.” But the most important phrase was, “Otearai wa dochira desu ka?” meaning, “Where is the bathroom?” The Japanese vocabulary is a fascinating mix of old Asian and adapted western words. In the Japanese language, there are limited sounds; their vowels don’t have both long and short versions, and some consonants don’t exist, so adapted western words are the closest they can come. For instance, taxi is ta-ku-shi, and milk is mi-ru-ku. In many cases, the “u” at the end is nearly silent, although I think it’s still there (the Japanese don’t waste much). One very popular word is “gozaimasu,” which doesn’t translate well, but is a polite form meaning, “to be.” It’s used in greetings, thanks and instructions, and seems to punctuate a lot of Japanese sentences.

We also learned about currency exchange, with the Japanese yen being about equal to a penny, and figured out how to negotiate with automated tellers to tap our bank accounts back home. The international MAC machines are only found at the post offices, and are lined up like slot machines, with customers queued up to wait for the next available one.

At 6’-2” with a full head of not-too-short red hair, Jason stands out among the crowds in Japan. Though he’s generally quiet, he enjoys a bit of attention, and being firmly in the minority in heavily Japanese Kumamoto, he’s really hard to miss. At 5’-4” with dark hair, Caitlin blends in a bit more. They both live in areas that are safe and secure, even for a city environment. They’re fairly well-paid, and hold some sway in their respective school systems. They’re both enjoying teaching for now, and will probably return home and continue their own education before moving on in their careers. Most of all, though, they’re independent but still have each other to lean on.

The experience of visiting Japan for Chris, Adam and me was an adventure of a lifetime. Visiting Jason was wonderful in so many ways. Leaving him to come home was more difficult than seeing him off in the first place, though. He’s doing quite well, and is proving that he doesn’t need his parents as much as we’d like to think. So I guess we did okay after all…


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Here are a few of our pictures. The rest can be viewed by scrolling back to the top of the blog and clicking on the link, "Bob's Pictures" in the sidebar on the right.