April 30, 2009
I am blessed with a fabulous network of friends and family whom I lean on for support.
A former co-worker and now a pastor of a local community church met me for a Starbucks coffee this afternoon. He had kind words of support and assured me that I hadn’t made a bad decision to take the newspaper buyout.
He raved about reiki and said if I felt like I was stressed to try a reiki practitioner. “It’s like opium,” he said of the healing treatments. I will have to do some research on reiki. It may be worth a few visits.
His other great comment was: “Look at it as if you gave yourself the gift of time. A time to reflect and enjoy.”
Later in the day, I sought the counsel of my father-in-law, who is an Anglican priest. He had some great advice and words of encouragement. He, too, said the decision to leave the newspaper will prove to be a wise one as time ticks on. (He’s an avid newspaper reader. So that comment is somewhat surprising.)
He suggested that I immerse myself in the D’Youville community, which I think is great advice. I will try to get involved with the student newspaper, at his suggestion. That would be fun.
Also great words of wisdom from my father-in-law: “Sure you’ve had a loss of identity and a paycheck,” he said, “but now it’s time to forget the past and set your sights on the future. Going back to school is going to be a lot of fun, and you will excel. Everybody else in the class is going to be more concerned about partying. You will do very well.”
So that’s the lesson of today: Savor these days of free time and to look to the future. Enough of the backward thinking, it can be as toxic as the atmosphere at a dysfunctional workplace.
I am ready for the future and the uncertainty is brings. That, according to my father-in-law, will put the excitement back in my life. “It will make you feel much younger,” he said, “being on a college campus.”
Let it be so. Maybe I'll even sign up for some reiki.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
The one-month mark
April 29, 2009
Tomorrow marks one month away from the work world. I’m disappointed that I’ve spent four golden weeks of semi-leisure being a Fretful Jones. I disregarded, or couldn’t allow myself, to take the advice of my children and party my butt off during this month. I enjoyed a few days to the hilt, but overall it’s been a lackadaisical month. Someday, I will realize what I was meant to learn from this episode in my life. For now, it pretty much remains a mystery.
I’m keeping busy getting ready for school, cruising the college’s Web site, and learning to use the online database, my student e-mail and the Blackboard learning platform. I’m trying to read some short stories to get in the groove for extensive reading. I can’t believe I’m yearning for the start of classes so I can put my mind to the test.
There are times when I feel pretty proud of myself for going back to school to learn new skills. It should be an exciting time. The Blessed Wife keeps telling me that.
It’s that fear of the unknown that keeps gnawing at my psyche. It’s so irrational, when you think about it.
My 22-year-old daughter is two-thirds of her way through her master’s in education program, working three part-time jobs, taking out loans to finish her coursework this summer, is starting to apply for jobs not knowing if and where she’ll get one, is less than four months away from getting married and possibly moving hundreds of miles away from her current home. I don’t hear her complaining about not being able to sleep or experiencing monkey mind. She does complain about not having enough money, though.
That makes me think back to my days at Syracuse where I was married with a small child, worked a part-time job answering telephones, went to school full-time and didn't know if I would have a job after graduation. We had no money. I slept pretty well in those days and thoroughly enjoyed myself. And you know what? Things worked out in the end. Just before graduation, I scored a job at the Hornell Evening Tribune. Prayers answered.
As we get old, we get set in our ways. We start to fear change. Heck, we’re changing TV services tomorrow from cable to satellite dish and that seems like a daunting prospect. I’ll have to learn new channels to find my science programs! Why is life so hard? (I’m joking, of course.)
Another subject I have to tackle at some point: Why we identify so much with what we do. The ego must be subdued. We are not our occupations. We are something more than that – spiritual beings having a human experience. We are what we give to the world.
Tomorrow marks one month away from the work world. I’m disappointed that I’ve spent four golden weeks of semi-leisure being a Fretful Jones. I disregarded, or couldn’t allow myself, to take the advice of my children and party my butt off during this month. I enjoyed a few days to the hilt, but overall it’s been a lackadaisical month. Someday, I will realize what I was meant to learn from this episode in my life. For now, it pretty much remains a mystery.
I’m keeping busy getting ready for school, cruising the college’s Web site, and learning to use the online database, my student e-mail and the Blackboard learning platform. I’m trying to read some short stories to get in the groove for extensive reading. I can’t believe I’m yearning for the start of classes so I can put my mind to the test.
There are times when I feel pretty proud of myself for going back to school to learn new skills. It should be an exciting time. The Blessed Wife keeps telling me that.
It’s that fear of the unknown that keeps gnawing at my psyche. It’s so irrational, when you think about it.
My 22-year-old daughter is two-thirds of her way through her master’s in education program, working three part-time jobs, taking out loans to finish her coursework this summer, is starting to apply for jobs not knowing if and where she’ll get one, is less than four months away from getting married and possibly moving hundreds of miles away from her current home. I don’t hear her complaining about not being able to sleep or experiencing monkey mind. She does complain about not having enough money, though.
That makes me think back to my days at Syracuse where I was married with a small child, worked a part-time job answering telephones, went to school full-time and didn't know if I would have a job after graduation. We had no money. I slept pretty well in those days and thoroughly enjoyed myself. And you know what? Things worked out in the end. Just before graduation, I scored a job at the Hornell Evening Tribune. Prayers answered.
As we get old, we get set in our ways. We start to fear change. Heck, we’re changing TV services tomorrow from cable to satellite dish and that seems like a daunting prospect. I’ll have to learn new channels to find my science programs! Why is life so hard? (I’m joking, of course.)
Another subject I have to tackle at some point: Why we identify so much with what we do. The ego must be subdued. We are not our occupations. We are something more than that – spiritual beings having a human experience. We are what we give to the world.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Repeat the mantra
April 28, 2009
It’s weird being alone with your thoughts. No co-workers bustling around. No radios blaring. No TV squawking. Just your brain and your spirit doing a back-and-forth volley. Replaying past experiences. Rethinking old decisions. Projecting future events. All in a mad jumble, one frantic thought pushing out the old one in a door-busting rush. All the while, watching a soft spring rain turn the grass a fluorescent green.
How to make it end? How to quiet the mind, to bring peace and order to seeming chaos? Repeat the mantra: study, success, master’s teach, excel.
Coming from the hectic pace of a newsroom, my brain must feel it needs to keep up its Olympic triathlon pace. No need, oh jumpy neurons. Make it a time for reflection – a time to slow down.
Learning, reflection and growth – that’s what this day is for.
It’s weird being alone with your thoughts. No co-workers bustling around. No radios blaring. No TV squawking. Just your brain and your spirit doing a back-and-forth volley. Replaying past experiences. Rethinking old decisions. Projecting future events. All in a mad jumble, one frantic thought pushing out the old one in a door-busting rush. All the while, watching a soft spring rain turn the grass a fluorescent green.
How to make it end? How to quiet the mind, to bring peace and order to seeming chaos? Repeat the mantra: study, success, master’s teach, excel.
Coming from the hectic pace of a newsroom, my brain must feel it needs to keep up its Olympic triathlon pace. No need, oh jumpy neurons. Make it a time for reflection – a time to slow down.
Learning, reflection and growth – that’s what this day is for.
Sharpen the focus
April 28, 2009
It’s a cool, damp spring morning following a scorcher of a day.
Today’s lesson is to sharpen my focus on re-educating myself.
Unless something jumps out of the weeds at me, I’ve suspended my active job search in favor of concentrating on school and developing a free-lance business and my own Web site. The Blessed Wife and eldest daughter laid down the law yesterday after I struggled with anxiety attacks again. Put the money worries on hold for year, narrow your focus to retraining yourself, take it a day at a time and let the rest work itself out over the next year.
So that’s it: Study, success, teach, excel. Have a focus like a laser beam. Whatever doesn’t further your goal of earning a master’s degree, teaching students and sharing your writing and editing with the world is not under consideration. Turn up the volume on the mental toughness.
“You’re just going to have to power through it,” advised eldest daughter. (That includes shutting down the monkey mind that keeps me awake at night.)
That means a stop to papering Western New York with CVs for jobs I don’t really want right now and to stop trivial pursuits that don’t get me closer to my goal. Outside of school work and building a free-lance business, everything else is just a distraction.
In that vein, I stopped for a job interview yesterday for a summer position at a venerable Western New York institution. While the young man who interviewed me seemed accommodating, a six-day-a-week job during the middle of summer didn’t appeal to me, at least this year with two weddings and classwork bound to take up quite a bit of time during July and August. So I immediately shut that proposal down with a quick, polite e-mail last night.
So that’s it, folks. A year of hard work ahead, but labor that is going to grow my stock, not Warren Buffett’s.
Again, I going to affirm my vision: I see myself next August in front of a college classroom sharing my writing and learning skills with eager students.
I’m going the Post-It note route as well, with little affirmations going up around the house, the car, etc. Here’s what they say:
Study, success, degree, teach, excel. Study, success, degree, teach, excel. Study, success, degree, teach, excel.
It’s a cool, damp spring morning following a scorcher of a day.
Today’s lesson is to sharpen my focus on re-educating myself.
Unless something jumps out of the weeds at me, I’ve suspended my active job search in favor of concentrating on school and developing a free-lance business and my own Web site. The Blessed Wife and eldest daughter laid down the law yesterday after I struggled with anxiety attacks again. Put the money worries on hold for year, narrow your focus to retraining yourself, take it a day at a time and let the rest work itself out over the next year.
So that’s it: Study, success, teach, excel. Have a focus like a laser beam. Whatever doesn’t further your goal of earning a master’s degree, teaching students and sharing your writing and editing with the world is not under consideration. Turn up the volume on the mental toughness.
“You’re just going to have to power through it,” advised eldest daughter. (That includes shutting down the monkey mind that keeps me awake at night.)
That means a stop to papering Western New York with CVs for jobs I don’t really want right now and to stop trivial pursuits that don’t get me closer to my goal. Outside of school work and building a free-lance business, everything else is just a distraction.
In that vein, I stopped for a job interview yesterday for a summer position at a venerable Western New York institution. While the young man who interviewed me seemed accommodating, a six-day-a-week job during the middle of summer didn’t appeal to me, at least this year with two weddings and classwork bound to take up quite a bit of time during July and August. So I immediately shut that proposal down with a quick, polite e-mail last night.
So that’s it, folks. A year of hard work ahead, but labor that is going to grow my stock, not Warren Buffett’s.
Again, I going to affirm my vision: I see myself next August in front of a college classroom sharing my writing and learning skills with eager students.
I’m going the Post-It note route as well, with little affirmations going up around the house, the car, etc. Here’s what they say:
Study, success, degree, teach, excel. Study, success, degree, teach, excel. Study, success, degree, teach, excel.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Out of dormancy
April 26, 2009
Here I am, on the porch of our cottage “cheese” typing away as all the weekend warriors head back to Buffalo, Pittsburgh or Cleveland after their big days on the lake shore. I feel like I’m getting to be part of the Chautauqua culture. I told our neighbors that the beauty and relaxed feeling of being here for days on end is like the high of “Chautauqua crack.”
Perhaps the decision to take the buyout from The News will be like the “butterfly effect” for the Stanleys. (You know the butterfly effect. A butterfly flaps its wings in the Amazon and sets off a thunderstorm in Kansas.) The titanic mental debate that went into the buyout decision could end up as the catalyst for change – change that Judy (blessed wife) and I have discussed for a very long time, but were always reluctant to actually make happen. We could end up selling both houses and consolidating into one home, either in the Chautauqua region or out of state, perhaps North Carolina. (Hello, Duke University, you’re missing out on a brilliant professor in Dr. Stanley.) What is life all about if you can't take some chances and make life a little more exhilarating?
I talked with all the children today, and everyone seems to be in good spirits. I like what my eldest daughter told me:
“You’re awakening something that has been dormant in you for a long time.”
That’s how she explained away the stress and anxiety I’ve been feeling. I want to say that I’m becoming somewhat more comfortable in my post-newspaper skin. We had an excellent session around the bonfire last night with our neighbors, just enjoying the warm spring evening and talking about all the change coming this year.
We’ve been noticing all these instances of synchronicity over the past few weeks, seeing people we haven’t seen in years. Last night, Judy (blessed wife) and I were regaling people around the bonfire with tales of how we met at “the log” when we were teenagers. It was a rather bucolic spot in suburban Buffalo where two trees had fallen to make some comfortable sitting areas. It was surrounded by woods, and Cazenovia Creek rippled along not far from the log. Our teenage clique used to make bonfires there, sit on the logs and drink Boone’s Farm wine and Koehler beer. That’s how Judy and I came to meet for the start of a wonderful life together. I was about to fall backward off the log and Judy was sitting next to me at the time. As I fell, I think I whacked her with one of my arms. That got her attention, and the rest is history. I did fall off the log, onto my back, but bounced back up red-faced and happy.
Anyway, as we took a walk this morning, we came upon two old friends from “the log,” one of whom we hadn’t seen in 30 years. It’s weird how life keeps coming around in circles. Why are we talking about the log, and then meeting someone from there the next day that we hadn’t seen in decades? What does it mean? What lesson should I draw from the encounter?
All I know is that my brain neurons are firing in sequences not encountered in years. It’s exciting not to know what lies ahead one year from now. I’ve been trying to envision myself in May 2010, but then again the daily journey is getting pretty interesting and worth paying attention to.
In two weeks, I’ll be immersed in classes, just like I was 34 years ago at Syracuse University.
Will I be a good student?
I think so. (And the weekend will still begin on Tuesdays!)
Here I am, on the porch of our cottage “cheese” typing away as all the weekend warriors head back to Buffalo, Pittsburgh or Cleveland after their big days on the lake shore. I feel like I’m getting to be part of the Chautauqua culture. I told our neighbors that the beauty and relaxed feeling of being here for days on end is like the high of “Chautauqua crack.”
Perhaps the decision to take the buyout from The News will be like the “butterfly effect” for the Stanleys. (You know the butterfly effect. A butterfly flaps its wings in the Amazon and sets off a thunderstorm in Kansas.) The titanic mental debate that went into the buyout decision could end up as the catalyst for change – change that Judy (blessed wife) and I have discussed for a very long time, but were always reluctant to actually make happen. We could end up selling both houses and consolidating into one home, either in the Chautauqua region or out of state, perhaps North Carolina. (Hello, Duke University, you’re missing out on a brilliant professor in Dr. Stanley.) What is life all about if you can't take some chances and make life a little more exhilarating?
I talked with all the children today, and everyone seems to be in good spirits. I like what my eldest daughter told me:
“You’re awakening something that has been dormant in you for a long time.”
That’s how she explained away the stress and anxiety I’ve been feeling. I want to say that I’m becoming somewhat more comfortable in my post-newspaper skin. We had an excellent session around the bonfire last night with our neighbors, just enjoying the warm spring evening and talking about all the change coming this year.
We’ve been noticing all these instances of synchronicity over the past few weeks, seeing people we haven’t seen in years. Last night, Judy (blessed wife) and I were regaling people around the bonfire with tales of how we met at “the log” when we were teenagers. It was a rather bucolic spot in suburban Buffalo where two trees had fallen to make some comfortable sitting areas. It was surrounded by woods, and Cazenovia Creek rippled along not far from the log. Our teenage clique used to make bonfires there, sit on the logs and drink Boone’s Farm wine and Koehler beer. That’s how Judy and I came to meet for the start of a wonderful life together. I was about to fall backward off the log and Judy was sitting next to me at the time. As I fell, I think I whacked her with one of my arms. That got her attention, and the rest is history. I did fall off the log, onto my back, but bounced back up red-faced and happy.
Anyway, as we took a walk this morning, we came upon two old friends from “the log,” one of whom we hadn’t seen in 30 years. It’s weird how life keeps coming around in circles. Why are we talking about the log, and then meeting someone from there the next day that we hadn’t seen in decades? What does it mean? What lesson should I draw from the encounter?
All I know is that my brain neurons are firing in sequences not encountered in years. It’s exciting not to know what lies ahead one year from now. I’ve been trying to envision myself in May 2010, but then again the daily journey is getting pretty interesting and worth paying attention to.
In two weeks, I’ll be immersed in classes, just like I was 34 years ago at Syracuse University.
Will I be a good student?
I think so. (And the weekend will still begin on Tuesdays!)
Friday, April 24, 2009
All that it ever was
April 24, 2009
What a beautiful day in Chautauqua. Many days in Chautauqua seem to be excellent.
The days are so nice that’s it’s difficult not to have an upbeat attitude. On the ride down here from the Big B, I was listening to Coast to Coast AM and the show had a guest on reiterating that, even in your 50s, if you wake up, it’s a great day. Let the air be filled with optimism!
When I arrived here, a neighbor greeted me and said there is nothing to worry about. Judy and I can make ends meet no matter what, if we put our minds to it. So just enjoy the day! What a day it’s been. The first day of true summer. Even at 8 p.m., it’s 80 degrees and the windows are wide open.
Judy (the blessed wife) told me yesterday that the job I had was a good-paying job, but it wasn’t a good job. I was like an automaton stuck on the word widget assembly line. I was all I was ever going to be at The News – a pagination jockey. Nothing more, nothing less. Ten more years of that and then hang up the keyboard. No thanks, dudettes. I’d like to try something different for a change. Forget about that job. Let it reside in the past as a lengthy experience that helped me successfully raise a family, but now it’s done. It’s history. You can’t go back. Toastarama.
There’s a new horizon ahead. Focus on that and be happy. What an opportunity you have to make a difference in this world now that you are free of the bonds of corporate slavery.
With a positive attitude, no matter the outcome, it will be good.
Again, my friendly neighbor advised me that he’s seen many people leave their jobs, and it takes a year before they start to get calm down mentally, even in retirement, because of the displacement factor. That’s great, knowing that I’m not alone in this bad-ass tape loop that berates me for my bold decision. It’s OK. It really is. My children, wife and friends still love me. I am the same person, only more interesting.
On a broader scale, when will America get its act together? How long will this crushing recession continue? The suit boys that Harvard, Yale and Princeton churned out and put in charge of corporate America sure have made a mess of things. “Me, me, me, me, me.”
I think it’s time to turn most of the operations over to women. Men seem to be sorely out of touch and deserving of castration. Let the women lead, I say.
All is well on this gorgeous Chautauqua day, and nothing can ever change that. I am headed to a bright future. We’ll have to see what it is – teacher, househusband, free-lance writer.
On to what awaits!
What a beautiful day in Chautauqua. Many days in Chautauqua seem to be excellent.
The days are so nice that’s it’s difficult not to have an upbeat attitude. On the ride down here from the Big B, I was listening to Coast to Coast AM and the show had a guest on reiterating that, even in your 50s, if you wake up, it’s a great day. Let the air be filled with optimism!
When I arrived here, a neighbor greeted me and said there is nothing to worry about. Judy and I can make ends meet no matter what, if we put our minds to it. So just enjoy the day! What a day it’s been. The first day of true summer. Even at 8 p.m., it’s 80 degrees and the windows are wide open.
Judy (the blessed wife) told me yesterday that the job I had was a good-paying job, but it wasn’t a good job. I was like an automaton stuck on the word widget assembly line. I was all I was ever going to be at The News – a pagination jockey. Nothing more, nothing less. Ten more years of that and then hang up the keyboard. No thanks, dudettes. I’d like to try something different for a change. Forget about that job. Let it reside in the past as a lengthy experience that helped me successfully raise a family, but now it’s done. It’s history. You can’t go back. Toastarama.
There’s a new horizon ahead. Focus on that and be happy. What an opportunity you have to make a difference in this world now that you are free of the bonds of corporate slavery.
With a positive attitude, no matter the outcome, it will be good.
Again, my friendly neighbor advised me that he’s seen many people leave their jobs, and it takes a year before they start to get calm down mentally, even in retirement, because of the displacement factor. That’s great, knowing that I’m not alone in this bad-ass tape loop that berates me for my bold decision. It’s OK. It really is. My children, wife and friends still love me. I am the same person, only more interesting.
On a broader scale, when will America get its act together? How long will this crushing recession continue? The suit boys that Harvard, Yale and Princeton churned out and put in charge of corporate America sure have made a mess of things. “Me, me, me, me, me.”
I think it’s time to turn most of the operations over to women. Men seem to be sorely out of touch and deserving of castration. Let the women lead, I say.
All is well on this gorgeous Chautauqua day, and nothing can ever change that. I am headed to a bright future. We’ll have to see what it is – teacher, househusband, free-lance writer.
On to what awaits!
Thursday, April 23, 2009
The long and winding road
April 23, 2009
And so this midlife journey of inner exploration is underway for real.
Will we find that the hero has sabotaged his own life and turned it to ruin? Or will the saga have a fairy tale-like ending where the hero lives happily ever after? That, my friends, we won’t learn for a while.
Here is what we know after three weeks: My horizons are definitely broadening, as I’m talking to new people, making new acquaintances and exploring new things – like blogging. I’m listening to the tales of economic woe with open and sympathetic ears. I’m thinking that maybe we do have too much “stuff’ and this is our opportunity to live a leaner, meaner life.
Do we really need two homes, a boat, a jet ski, numerous cars and dinner out three times a week? Maybe life wasn’t meant to be lived with all these material burdens. Without them, I would be pretty much worry free right now. Is that the lesson I'm supposed to learn?
Every American family should be able to live off the proceeds of one income. That’s my new economic principle. It’s really an old principle, too. My parents raised four children basically from the wages earned by my father. I didn’t really think much of it as a kid, but I think my father was laid off often, and I know he traveled to places like Cincinnati, Pittsburgh, Massena and Oswego to work on jobs, commuting home on weekends. That could not have been easy.
Speaking of easy, I’ve come to the conclusion that my first 52 years were free of almost all hassles. Life was too easy. The higher powers must have wanted me to experience a little adversity on the journey, so they instructed me to take this buyout and take a more difficult, but rewarding path.
“Get off easy street and see what life is like when you’re struggling to get a job; see how it feels when no one responds to your letters and resumes. This is the other side of life,” my mind says.
Even with the mental travails of the past few weeks, my problems are nothing compared to many people. That’s an important fact to remember. I can get out of this jam by successfully completing a year of higher education like many, many hard-working young people do, or by just getting rid of some of the “stuff” we’ve come to acquire.
The important thing in life is to maintain my close-knit family, keep us safe and happy, and to treasure the friendships we’ve made. As Bill Clinton would say, “It’s the people, stupid.”
Today’s lesson boils down to this: It took leaving a safe, secure job for me to start really experiencing life. I hadn't realized how smug I was. I do feel aware and engaged doing different things each day instead of being bored to tears sitting in the same office every day for 24 years. (Out of the comfort zone.)
As for the roulette wheel: Round and round she goes, and where she stops, nobody knows.
And so this midlife journey of inner exploration is underway for real.
Will we find that the hero has sabotaged his own life and turned it to ruin? Or will the saga have a fairy tale-like ending where the hero lives happily ever after? That, my friends, we won’t learn for a while.
Here is what we know after three weeks: My horizons are definitely broadening, as I’m talking to new people, making new acquaintances and exploring new things – like blogging. I’m listening to the tales of economic woe with open and sympathetic ears. I’m thinking that maybe we do have too much “stuff’ and this is our opportunity to live a leaner, meaner life.
Do we really need two homes, a boat, a jet ski, numerous cars and dinner out three times a week? Maybe life wasn’t meant to be lived with all these material burdens. Without them, I would be pretty much worry free right now. Is that the lesson I'm supposed to learn?
Every American family should be able to live off the proceeds of one income. That’s my new economic principle. It’s really an old principle, too. My parents raised four children basically from the wages earned by my father. I didn’t really think much of it as a kid, but I think my father was laid off often, and I know he traveled to places like Cincinnati, Pittsburgh, Massena and Oswego to work on jobs, commuting home on weekends. That could not have been easy.
Speaking of easy, I’ve come to the conclusion that my first 52 years were free of almost all hassles. Life was too easy. The higher powers must have wanted me to experience a little adversity on the journey, so they instructed me to take this buyout and take a more difficult, but rewarding path.
“Get off easy street and see what life is like when you’re struggling to get a job; see how it feels when no one responds to your letters and resumes. This is the other side of life,” my mind says.
Even with the mental travails of the past few weeks, my problems are nothing compared to many people. That’s an important fact to remember. I can get out of this jam by successfully completing a year of higher education like many, many hard-working young people do, or by just getting rid of some of the “stuff” we’ve come to acquire.
The important thing in life is to maintain my close-knit family, keep us safe and happy, and to treasure the friendships we’ve made. As Bill Clinton would say, “It’s the people, stupid.”
Today’s lesson boils down to this: It took leaving a safe, secure job for me to start really experiencing life. I hadn't realized how smug I was. I do feel aware and engaged doing different things each day instead of being bored to tears sitting in the same office every day for 24 years. (Out of the comfort zone.)
As for the roulette wheel: Round and round she goes, and where she stops, nobody knows.
Monday, April 20, 2009
It's truly a small world
April 20, 2009
George Noory, the host of the radio program Coast to Coast AM, says there are no such things as coincidences.
Then today was a weird and fortuitous day that was meant to be, I guess.
I started scanning the employment ads this morning on a journalism Web site when I came across one seeking senior copy editors at The National newspaper in Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates. That’s a long way away, but the little kingdom has been getting lots of publicity lately for its opulence.
I immediately thought about my daughter Rachel, a marketing representative for a Los Angeles architect, being in that very Middle-Eastern place this week on business.
I read the ad and part of it stated, “Chief copy editors who have taken buyouts or who have recently retired are especially encouraged to apply.”
That seems to be addressing me personally, I thought. So I sent out a cover letter and resume for the heck of it. What a great life adventure that would be, to work in Abu Dhabi for a year or two. That would be something I never expected in my life.
Anyway, I shipped off an e-mail to Rachel who, as aforementioned, is in Abu Dhabi. I told her, “You wouldn’t believe where I just sent a resume for a job – Abu Dhabi, a newspaper called The National. I figure you might be visiting that area often for the next couple of years on business, so why not get a job there?”
Amazingly, 10 minutes later I got an e-mail from Rachel saying, “I was just at The National.” (More than 7,000 miles away, on the opposite side of the globe and we have near instant communication. What a changing world it is.)
The phone rang minutes later and it was Rachel calling. The signal was a little weak, but I could hear her pretty well. “I was at The National this morning. I met with the features editor – she’s an older woman from America. I can’t believe it. I have to go back there tomorrow, so I’ll tell her you sent a resume.”
Can you believe it?
We chatted some more about her stay there and what a great experience it is. She’s of the opinion that I wouldn’t want to live there. “Would mom come, too?” she asked.
“Rachel, I wouldn’t move there permanently, but I wouldn’t mind working there for a year, or two, or three, maybe make some pretty good money,” I responded.
What a bizarre occurrence. What are the chances of sending a resume to an exotic place half a world away and having your L.A.-based daughter be at that newspaper as the resume arrived? Too crazy.
What would be more crazy? To get a reply from The National and an interview. Stay tuned.
Also, on the proud Dad front: Son James called to say he’s been appointed a co-captain of the John Carroll University hockey team next season. What a kid! Kudos to James!
All in all, it was a pretty good day.
George Noory, the host of the radio program Coast to Coast AM, says there are no such things as coincidences.
Then today was a weird and fortuitous day that was meant to be, I guess.
I started scanning the employment ads this morning on a journalism Web site when I came across one seeking senior copy editors at The National newspaper in Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates. That’s a long way away, but the little kingdom has been getting lots of publicity lately for its opulence.
I immediately thought about my daughter Rachel, a marketing representative for a Los Angeles architect, being in that very Middle-Eastern place this week on business.
I read the ad and part of it stated, “Chief copy editors who have taken buyouts or who have recently retired are especially encouraged to apply.”
That seems to be addressing me personally, I thought. So I sent out a cover letter and resume for the heck of it. What a great life adventure that would be, to work in Abu Dhabi for a year or two. That would be something I never expected in my life.
Anyway, I shipped off an e-mail to Rachel who, as aforementioned, is in Abu Dhabi. I told her, “You wouldn’t believe where I just sent a resume for a job – Abu Dhabi, a newspaper called The National. I figure you might be visiting that area often for the next couple of years on business, so why not get a job there?”
Amazingly, 10 minutes later I got an e-mail from Rachel saying, “I was just at The National.” (More than 7,000 miles away, on the opposite side of the globe and we have near instant communication. What a changing world it is.)
The phone rang minutes later and it was Rachel calling. The signal was a little weak, but I could hear her pretty well. “I was at The National this morning. I met with the features editor – she’s an older woman from America. I can’t believe it. I have to go back there tomorrow, so I’ll tell her you sent a resume.”
Can you believe it?
We chatted some more about her stay there and what a great experience it is. She’s of the opinion that I wouldn’t want to live there. “Would mom come, too?” she asked.
“Rachel, I wouldn’t move there permanently, but I wouldn’t mind working there for a year, or two, or three, maybe make some pretty good money,” I responded.
What a bizarre occurrence. What are the chances of sending a resume to an exotic place half a world away and having your L.A.-based daughter be at that newspaper as the resume arrived? Too crazy.
What would be more crazy? To get a reply from The National and an interview. Stay tuned.
Also, on the proud Dad front: Son James called to say he’s been appointed a co-captain of the John Carroll University hockey team next season. What a kid! Kudos to James!
All in all, it was a pretty good day.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Sunday afternoon heroes vanish
April 19, 2009
As I was wallowing on the couch this afternoon, I tried to watch with interest one of my favorite sports spectacles – the Stanley Cup hockey playoffs. After a few minutes of watching what was probably a pretty interesting game featuring one of the sport’s biggest stars, Sydney Crosby, I wandered out of the room and perched myself outside to watch the birds fly among the feeders in our backyard.
Once upon a time, I was a HUGE sports fan, especially cherishing football and hockey, and all the news about them. Lately, I just can’t find the passion for professional sports. Could it be that:
* There are too many games of all kinds broadcast now? On Saturdays, there are literally dozens of college football or basketball games on the tube. On Sundays and every other day of the week during the autumn, it seems there is an endless parade of National Football League games. How does one say “overexposure”?
* The greed, arrogance and criminal records of many professional athletes have removed most of them from the pantheon of heroes. Who wants to listen to some 350-pound knucklehead who never earned his college diploma give discourse to the news media about adjusting to life playing for the Philadelphia Eagles instead of the Buffalo Bills – having just inked a $56 million deal while many Americans are lining up for their $400 a week unemployment check? How does one say “forget about Jason Peters”?
* Being a Buffalo sports fan has just turned the whole adventure into an exercise in futility. Both the city’s professional sports franchises are dull, have a lengthy legacy of losing and are unwilling to make bold moves in order to truly pursue a championship. My attitude is: Why bother to watch?
I think, for me, the combination of all three of those factors has made an afternoon of sitting in front of the television watching beer and Cialis commercials interspersed with a little athletic competition a thing of the past.
All in all, I’d rather just watch the birds.
As I was wallowing on the couch this afternoon, I tried to watch with interest one of my favorite sports spectacles – the Stanley Cup hockey playoffs. After a few minutes of watching what was probably a pretty interesting game featuring one of the sport’s biggest stars, Sydney Crosby, I wandered out of the room and perched myself outside to watch the birds fly among the feeders in our backyard.
Once upon a time, I was a HUGE sports fan, especially cherishing football and hockey, and all the news about them. Lately, I just can’t find the passion for professional sports. Could it be that:
* There are too many games of all kinds broadcast now? On Saturdays, there are literally dozens of college football or basketball games on the tube. On Sundays and every other day of the week during the autumn, it seems there is an endless parade of National Football League games. How does one say “overexposure”?
* The greed, arrogance and criminal records of many professional athletes have removed most of them from the pantheon of heroes. Who wants to listen to some 350-pound knucklehead who never earned his college diploma give discourse to the news media about adjusting to life playing for the Philadelphia Eagles instead of the Buffalo Bills – having just inked a $56 million deal while many Americans are lining up for their $400 a week unemployment check? How does one say “forget about Jason Peters”?
* Being a Buffalo sports fan has just turned the whole adventure into an exercise in futility. Both the city’s professional sports franchises are dull, have a lengthy legacy of losing and are unwilling to make bold moves in order to truly pursue a championship. My attitude is: Why bother to watch?
I think, for me, the combination of all three of those factors has made an afternoon of sitting in front of the television watching beer and Cialis commercials interspersed with a little athletic competition a thing of the past.
All in all, I’d rather just watch the birds.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Consider it a gift
April 18, 2009
Why can’t I get it through my thick skull that this opportunity to return to school for nearly free is a tremendous gift from the universe? Just accept it, and stop fighting it and you’ll be much better off, I’m telling myself in the past day.
Sitting by the bonfire last night with a neighbor, she counseled me that my intentions are divided and that’s what’s leading to the wholesale anxiety.
“Don’t be looking for jobs on a serious basis. Why are you looking for jobs? That’s like serving two masters. You can’t go to school and be looking for jobs at the same time,” she said.
I’ve picked up my mother’s rosary and have started to recite the rosary during the past two days, asking for strength and focus. People always resort to the appealing to the higher power during trying times, and I am no exception. (And times aren’t really all that trying. I have about a 15-month financial cushion, school starting in three weeks, and after only two weeks of job seeking, have an opportunity to work during the summer at a place I’ve always wanted to work.
How bad is all that?
Today is a beautiful spring day in Chautauqua, so I’m going to put my mental resources into lapping up the splendor of the day. I’ll get some more gardening done, maybe take a paddle boat ride and head for the Rod and Gun Club for dinner. Now that’s a nice day in my book.
I keep saying this, but it is amazing what I’m learning about myself in these three weeks since I’ve left my longtime employment at The News. I’ve learned that I really have to put into practice all those self-help tips I’ve been reading through the years: Live for the day, stay positive, keep focused and maintain your inner strength. Also, keep moving because it would be easy to fall into a depression. (Some cottage friends told a story the other day of a neighbor who lost his good job in Erie, Pa., and feel into a deep depression. He’s now selling his house, they said. Trying times in America – the elimination of the middle class and orchestrated by the powers that be.)
Having said that, I’m off to grab a shovel and rake and make friends with the soil.
Why can’t I get it through my thick skull that this opportunity to return to school for nearly free is a tremendous gift from the universe? Just accept it, and stop fighting it and you’ll be much better off, I’m telling myself in the past day.
Sitting by the bonfire last night with a neighbor, she counseled me that my intentions are divided and that’s what’s leading to the wholesale anxiety.
“Don’t be looking for jobs on a serious basis. Why are you looking for jobs? That’s like serving two masters. You can’t go to school and be looking for jobs at the same time,” she said.
I’ve picked up my mother’s rosary and have started to recite the rosary during the past two days, asking for strength and focus. People always resort to the appealing to the higher power during trying times, and I am no exception. (And times aren’t really all that trying. I have about a 15-month financial cushion, school starting in three weeks, and after only two weeks of job seeking, have an opportunity to work during the summer at a place I’ve always wanted to work.
How bad is all that?
Today is a beautiful spring day in Chautauqua, so I’m going to put my mental resources into lapping up the splendor of the day. I’ll get some more gardening done, maybe take a paddle boat ride and head for the Rod and Gun Club for dinner. Now that’s a nice day in my book.
I keep saying this, but it is amazing what I’m learning about myself in these three weeks since I’ve left my longtime employment at The News. I’ve learned that I really have to put into practice all those self-help tips I’ve been reading through the years: Live for the day, stay positive, keep focused and maintain your inner strength. Also, keep moving because it would be easy to fall into a depression. (Some cottage friends told a story the other day of a neighbor who lost his good job in Erie, Pa., and feel into a deep depression. He’s now selling his house, they said. Trying times in America – the elimination of the middle class and orchestrated by the powers that be.)
Having said that, I’m off to grab a shovel and rake and make friends with the soil.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
The wheels begin to turn
April 15, 2009
Tax day, 2009 and the country is in an uproar over our tax burden. Even the Canadian students at D’Youville College say that we’re overtaxed in the United States, reports wife Judy. Now that’s saying something! Today was a national tea party to protest our government’s greed.
For me, it was a second advisement visit to D’Youville, and I learned with some relief that I can obtain a master’s degree without getting state teaching certification. That means I can focus on my coursework and student teaching and concern myself with the standardized tests at a later date. That definitely relieves some of the immediate anxiety.
I am going to set my schedule of achievement over the long weekend at the Cheese (cottage) so I know my plan of attack for the coming year. I may squeeze in a big competency exam or two, if I feel comfortable with the summer courses. As of now, my ultimate goal is teaching at a community college or a private high school.
On the employment front, the e-mail and telephone were silent all day. I fired off another resume only to learn that when this document goes over the Internet to potential employers, it’s losing its formatting so it looks like a giant glob of paragraphs. I’ll have to rectify that. It’s a brave new world, indeed.
So anyway, the wheels are slowly starting to turn on the re-education process. Let me enjoy the ride, Lord, let me enjoy the ride.
Tax day, 2009 and the country is in an uproar over our tax burden. Even the Canadian students at D’Youville College say that we’re overtaxed in the United States, reports wife Judy. Now that’s saying something! Today was a national tea party to protest our government’s greed.
For me, it was a second advisement visit to D’Youville, and I learned with some relief that I can obtain a master’s degree without getting state teaching certification. That means I can focus on my coursework and student teaching and concern myself with the standardized tests at a later date. That definitely relieves some of the immediate anxiety.
I am going to set my schedule of achievement over the long weekend at the Cheese (cottage) so I know my plan of attack for the coming year. I may squeeze in a big competency exam or two, if I feel comfortable with the summer courses. As of now, my ultimate goal is teaching at a community college or a private high school.
On the employment front, the e-mail and telephone were silent all day. I fired off another resume only to learn that when this document goes over the Internet to potential employers, it’s losing its formatting so it looks like a giant glob of paragraphs. I’ll have to rectify that. It’s a brave new world, indeed.
So anyway, the wheels are slowly starting to turn on the re-education process. Let me enjoy the ride, Lord, let me enjoy the ride.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
The tide will turn
April 14, 2009
It’s been another rather rough day on the morale front. For the past 20 years, I’ve dreamed of being at home every day cleaning and cooking and doing some reading and writing. Now that it’s here, it’s amazing to me that I don’t seem to be able to enjoy it.
My body and brain wants to get up in the morning and get off to the salt mines. There’s no doubt about it. That routine is deeply ingrained, and it will take some time to let it ease its grip on my psyche. I know that time will come. I just don’t know when. The tide will turn at some point – maybe tomorrow, next week or next year.
I found myself during the day pledging that when I get another job, I will cherish it like a jewel, without complaint or compunction. Wow!
I’m even jealous of the people I see driving off like automatons to their appointments with the daily grind. God help us.
I madly fired off resumes today to get myself back in the workplace. I need to back off a bit and smell the coffee.
I remember my father, among many others, saying that if he had it to do over again, he wouldn’t have retired at 65. “Silent Dick,” as they called him, had his routine every weekday. Get up at 5 a.m., have boiled coffee, go out the door, get in the big old Lincoln Continental, stop for breakfast at a greasy spoon somewhere and then get to the job.
Since he was an electrician, he worked all over the place, sometimes at Donner-Hanna Furnace, sometimes at Children’s Hospital. It depended on where the union assigned him. He’d buzz home at 4 p.m., take a shower in the basement.(The shower actually was a garden hose hooked up to the hot water spigot and the nozzle was held in place with a piece of wood nailed to the ceiling.) "Hockey puck hamburgers" and whole potatoes boiled for three hours were served at 4:30. From 5 to 9 p.m., he parked himself in front of the tube, sometimes drinking a 16-ounce World’s Fair glass of wine and chowing a bag of chocolate chip cookies as an evening snack. Then it was off to a gaseous night in the crib. And he loved it. He told me when he retired about what a bad decision it was. I think many people feel that way.
So be careful what you wish for, folks. This joblessness isn’t all it’s cranked up to be. I’m only 52, so there are many more productive years ahead (although Judy loves coming home to a hot cooked meal and a sparkling clean house).
Tomorrow, I’ll be headed to D’Youville for a few hours to get more information on the Masters in Education Program. Maybe some of those employers will even call.
It’s been another rather rough day on the morale front. For the past 20 years, I’ve dreamed of being at home every day cleaning and cooking and doing some reading and writing. Now that it’s here, it’s amazing to me that I don’t seem to be able to enjoy it.
My body and brain wants to get up in the morning and get off to the salt mines. There’s no doubt about it. That routine is deeply ingrained, and it will take some time to let it ease its grip on my psyche. I know that time will come. I just don’t know when. The tide will turn at some point – maybe tomorrow, next week or next year.
I found myself during the day pledging that when I get another job, I will cherish it like a jewel, without complaint or compunction. Wow!
I’m even jealous of the people I see driving off like automatons to their appointments with the daily grind. God help us.
I madly fired off resumes today to get myself back in the workplace. I need to back off a bit and smell the coffee.
I remember my father, among many others, saying that if he had it to do over again, he wouldn’t have retired at 65. “Silent Dick,” as they called him, had his routine every weekday. Get up at 5 a.m., have boiled coffee, go out the door, get in the big old Lincoln Continental, stop for breakfast at a greasy spoon somewhere and then get to the job.
Since he was an electrician, he worked all over the place, sometimes at Donner-Hanna Furnace, sometimes at Children’s Hospital. It depended on where the union assigned him. He’d buzz home at 4 p.m., take a shower in the basement.(The shower actually was a garden hose hooked up to the hot water spigot and the nozzle was held in place with a piece of wood nailed to the ceiling.) "Hockey puck hamburgers" and whole potatoes boiled for three hours were served at 4:30. From 5 to 9 p.m., he parked himself in front of the tube, sometimes drinking a 16-ounce World’s Fair glass of wine and chowing a bag of chocolate chip cookies as an evening snack. Then it was off to a gaseous night in the crib. And he loved it. He told me when he retired about what a bad decision it was. I think many people feel that way.
So be careful what you wish for, folks. This joblessness isn’t all it’s cranked up to be. I’m only 52, so there are many more productive years ahead (although Judy loves coming home to a hot cooked meal and a sparkling clean house).
Tomorrow, I’ll be headed to D’Youville for a few hours to get more information on the Masters in Education Program. Maybe some of those employers will even call.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Life's biggest challenge
April 13, 2009
A belated Happy Easter to all. It will be a topsy-turvy year for many of us. So let’s bring the joy and euphoria of a new beginning to all our ventures in every season.
That said, I now know I am in for the biggest challenge of my life. I picked up a review book for the Liberal Arts and Sciences Test I am scheduled to take in August. I figured I’d sample a few of the math and science questions to see where I stood in terms of time needed to prepare for the exam. I looked at the first few questions. They didn’t seem to be written in any language I could understand. Uh-oh. What followed were a few moments of anxiety, angst and panic. Then I sat down and put in two solid hours of trying to begin studying for this beast.
Now I know what I’m doing for the next four weeks until classes begin at D’Youville. I’ll be spending a minimum of two hours a day with my standardized test workbook.
“Why did I do this to myself?,” I wondered.
“Because you were bored to tears and not enjoying what you were doing,” I answered myself.
“It’s like going from a couch potato to an Olympic athlete in a year,” added my wife, Judy. (She’s so smart.)
And so it is.
It was mostly business today, signing up for unemployment benefits, sending off a couple of resumes for jobs, getting an encouraging e-mail about one possible part-time job teaching an SAT prep class, getting some housework in on the side, and doing the aforementioned dance with the test preparation guide.
As always the motto is: Stay focused. Live one day at a time. Do what you need to do that day.
What a difference this is from my staid, predictable life of a month ago.
“I’m very surprised that I haven’t felt a sense of euphoria about being out of The News,” I told Judy. “I really thought I’d be jumping around and doing handstands. Instead, it’s been very melancholy, a very tenuous time.”
The smell of fear is clearly in the air -- fear of failure, fear of not meeting other’s expectations. Fear is very bad. It saps the life force. I needn’t quote Franklin Delano Roosevelt here, but it’s true: There is nothing to fear but fear itself.
Fear is the opposite of love. All the self-help gurus caution against falling into the fear trap. Perhaps daily meditation will provide an antidote to foul fear.
Author David Hawkins states in “Power Versus Force”:
“In the process of examining our everyday lives we can find that all our fears have been based on falsehood. The displacement of the false by the true is the essence of the healing of all things visible and invisible.”
If you’ll excuse me now, I have to get back to my review book.
A belated Happy Easter to all. It will be a topsy-turvy year for many of us. So let’s bring the joy and euphoria of a new beginning to all our ventures in every season.
That said, I now know I am in for the biggest challenge of my life. I picked up a review book for the Liberal Arts and Sciences Test I am scheduled to take in August. I figured I’d sample a few of the math and science questions to see where I stood in terms of time needed to prepare for the exam. I looked at the first few questions. They didn’t seem to be written in any language I could understand. Uh-oh. What followed were a few moments of anxiety, angst and panic. Then I sat down and put in two solid hours of trying to begin studying for this beast.
Now I know what I’m doing for the next four weeks until classes begin at D’Youville. I’ll be spending a minimum of two hours a day with my standardized test workbook.
“Why did I do this to myself?,” I wondered.
“Because you were bored to tears and not enjoying what you were doing,” I answered myself.
“It’s like going from a couch potato to an Olympic athlete in a year,” added my wife, Judy. (She’s so smart.)
And so it is.
It was mostly business today, signing up for unemployment benefits, sending off a couple of resumes for jobs, getting an encouraging e-mail about one possible part-time job teaching an SAT prep class, getting some housework in on the side, and doing the aforementioned dance with the test preparation guide.
As always the motto is: Stay focused. Live one day at a time. Do what you need to do that day.
What a difference this is from my staid, predictable life of a month ago.
“I’m very surprised that I haven’t felt a sense of euphoria about being out of The News,” I told Judy. “I really thought I’d be jumping around and doing handstands. Instead, it’s been very melancholy, a very tenuous time.”
The smell of fear is clearly in the air -- fear of failure, fear of not meeting other’s expectations. Fear is very bad. It saps the life force. I needn’t quote Franklin Delano Roosevelt here, but it’s true: There is nothing to fear but fear itself.
Fear is the opposite of love. All the self-help gurus caution against falling into the fear trap. Perhaps daily meditation will provide an antidote to foul fear.
Author David Hawkins states in “Power Versus Force”:
“In the process of examining our everyday lives we can find that all our fears have been based on falsehood. The displacement of the false by the true is the essence of the healing of all things visible and invisible.”
If you’ll excuse me now, I have to get back to my review book.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Looking into the crystal ball
April 11, 2009
And so it was that I was able to enjoy a beautiful spring day in Buffalo, to focus on the sunshine, the company of my family and the freedom to dream of the future.
Where will I be two years from now?
I believe we will still be living in suburban Buffalo, in our same home of the past 21 years. We will still have our little cottage on the Vukote Canal and enjoy the company of all of our friends and the splendor of Chautauqua Lake.
As for myself, I see myself in front of the classroom in a college environment, but I can’t tell if it’s a junior college or a university setting. Writing is still a vocation and I will be employed by several Web sites to blog and edit. I will have plenty of personal freedom, to come and go as I please for the workday, as long as I’m in my appointed classes on time, of course.
Judy and I will be very happy, maybe even grandparents. All three children will be gainfully employed and living in various parts of the country, so we will have places to visit and explore.
From the tumultuous year that is to come will blossom great opportunity and enjoyment. I have come to believe in the past 10 days that a higher power drove my decision to leave The News. There is a great and noble calling waiting for me. When is comes, I will be ready.
That is my future, as I see it today, but I know the road there won’t be an easy one.
(When all is said and done, I knew what my future at the newspaper held: I’d be assigned to a desk and computer for another 10 years producing word widgets -- “hanging on,” as they say -- if the print product survives that long.)
I’m hoping that yesterday was the “tipping point” where I put any regrets about leaving The News behind me and make my way boldly into the future.
Son James had a piece of advice for me that I recalled today: Every day, you should challenge yourself to do something out of your comfort zone. (That kid has come a long way during his three years at John Carroll University.) That includes anything from listening to some different music to visiting a museum that you’ve never seen before. Or maybe just getting up two hours earlier than normal.
How many people do that? Not very many. Most of us rise at the same time, eat the same breakfast, drive the same route to work, sit at the same desk, do the same work, eat with the same people, listen to the same radio stations and watch the same idiot box every night, then we turn in at the same appointed hour.
The blessed wife also counseled that we didn’t have much change in our first 32 years together, but because we, and most people we know, are aging, there is bound to be waves of changes during the next 32 years. So you might as well get into the “change groove.”
By the summer of 2010, I will be the guru of change.
And so it was that I was able to enjoy a beautiful spring day in Buffalo, to focus on the sunshine, the company of my family and the freedom to dream of the future.
Where will I be two years from now?
I believe we will still be living in suburban Buffalo, in our same home of the past 21 years. We will still have our little cottage on the Vukote Canal and enjoy the company of all of our friends and the splendor of Chautauqua Lake.
As for myself, I see myself in front of the classroom in a college environment, but I can’t tell if it’s a junior college or a university setting. Writing is still a vocation and I will be employed by several Web sites to blog and edit. I will have plenty of personal freedom, to come and go as I please for the workday, as long as I’m in my appointed classes on time, of course.
Judy and I will be very happy, maybe even grandparents. All three children will be gainfully employed and living in various parts of the country, so we will have places to visit and explore.
From the tumultuous year that is to come will blossom great opportunity and enjoyment. I have come to believe in the past 10 days that a higher power drove my decision to leave The News. There is a great and noble calling waiting for me. When is comes, I will be ready.
That is my future, as I see it today, but I know the road there won’t be an easy one.
(When all is said and done, I knew what my future at the newspaper held: I’d be assigned to a desk and computer for another 10 years producing word widgets -- “hanging on,” as they say -- if the print product survives that long.)
I’m hoping that yesterday was the “tipping point” where I put any regrets about leaving The News behind me and make my way boldly into the future.
Son James had a piece of advice for me that I recalled today: Every day, you should challenge yourself to do something out of your comfort zone. (That kid has come a long way during his three years at John Carroll University.) That includes anything from listening to some different music to visiting a museum that you’ve never seen before. Or maybe just getting up two hours earlier than normal.
How many people do that? Not very many. Most of us rise at the same time, eat the same breakfast, drive the same route to work, sit at the same desk, do the same work, eat with the same people, listen to the same radio stations and watch the same idiot box every night, then we turn in at the same appointed hour.
The blessed wife also counseled that we didn’t have much change in our first 32 years together, but because we, and most people we know, are aging, there is bound to be waves of changes during the next 32 years. So you might as well get into the “change groove.”
By the summer of 2010, I will be the guru of change.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Mr. Overanalysis
April 10, 2009
Most of the people out there (including the blessed wife) don’t want to read any negativity about this journey I’m embarking on, but like any voyage across the ocean of life, there are going to be good days and bad days. You’re going to have clear sailing at some points and at other times storms will be roiling.
Today was a rather tempestuous day.
My guess is that I lost focus on what my mission is because my monkey (and money) mind kept leaping into the future, casting preposterous scenes of dire fiscal collapse, not of the country, but of the family. I saw us scraping to make the property tax payments in a year. Groceries becoming scarce. The Repo Man coming for the Saturn Vue. People dying and leaving me with no health insurance. I even had a dream last night of people I know from The News (my former employer) on a train that was leaving the station. Note to self: Don’t take melatonin before bed as a sleeping aid because it gives you savagely crazy dreams.
I met my spouse at the door when she came home from one of her two jobs and laid the poverty trip on her. After a grimace of disbelief and a stern warning to get my act together, she advised: “You made this leap of faith, now hold on to the faith.”
College-age son, while sympathizing with my concerns, opined: “You overanalyze everything. You overthink stuff. How about stopping at A-Plus for a twelve pack?”
Eldest daughter added via e-mail, in regards to my reluctance to share this down and dirty day: “Changing careers at 52 is NOT an easy task – anyone knows that. So, if you’re writing a real-life account you need to include some not-so-perfect information as well.”
So most of the past 24 hours was spent dwelling on a future that isn’t here, and probably won’t be in any form that I imagined today. Just chalk it up to a crappy day.
The forlorn feeling was magnified by a neighbor who stopped to chat this afternoon as I was struggling to fill a 15-year-old blue plastic Bills football with air using a pump that plugs into a car’s cigarette lighter. Cords were twisting. The pump refused to work at first and then, after filling the ball, I pulled the pin and the orb promptly deflated. That’s how the day went. Anyway, the kind neighbor, who is my age, exploded in disbelief when he heard I took a minuscule buyout and bolted from the city’s respected newspaper.
“You’re retired, that’s great,” he said. “More time to sit around and drink beer.”
I started to explain that I was not retiring, but re-training and returning to the halls of academia, but he was having none of that. “Nothing but the good life now,” he said. “All beer, all day.”
Then he clinched the conversation by saying he just got a nice raise while more than 100 of his company’s warehouse workers in Jamestown, N.Y., got their walking papers this week.
“Goodbye, Al,” I said, and tossed the flattened football I was trying to inflate in the garage trash can before trudging into the house.
At least my family came to my rescue. I seem to be again on point – this is going to be a great, transforming adventure that few people in my position have the cohones to take.
One day at a time, bro. One day at a time.
Most of the people out there (including the blessed wife) don’t want to read any negativity about this journey I’m embarking on, but like any voyage across the ocean of life, there are going to be good days and bad days. You’re going to have clear sailing at some points and at other times storms will be roiling.
Today was a rather tempestuous day.
My guess is that I lost focus on what my mission is because my monkey (and money) mind kept leaping into the future, casting preposterous scenes of dire fiscal collapse, not of the country, but of the family. I saw us scraping to make the property tax payments in a year. Groceries becoming scarce. The Repo Man coming for the Saturn Vue. People dying and leaving me with no health insurance. I even had a dream last night of people I know from The News (my former employer) on a train that was leaving the station. Note to self: Don’t take melatonin before bed as a sleeping aid because it gives you savagely crazy dreams.
I met my spouse at the door when she came home from one of her two jobs and laid the poverty trip on her. After a grimace of disbelief and a stern warning to get my act together, she advised: “You made this leap of faith, now hold on to the faith.”
College-age son, while sympathizing with my concerns, opined: “You overanalyze everything. You overthink stuff. How about stopping at A-Plus for a twelve pack?”
Eldest daughter added via e-mail, in regards to my reluctance to share this down and dirty day: “Changing careers at 52 is NOT an easy task – anyone knows that. So, if you’re writing a real-life account you need to include some not-so-perfect information as well.”
So most of the past 24 hours was spent dwelling on a future that isn’t here, and probably won’t be in any form that I imagined today. Just chalk it up to a crappy day.
The forlorn feeling was magnified by a neighbor who stopped to chat this afternoon as I was struggling to fill a 15-year-old blue plastic Bills football with air using a pump that plugs into a car’s cigarette lighter. Cords were twisting. The pump refused to work at first and then, after filling the ball, I pulled the pin and the orb promptly deflated. That’s how the day went. Anyway, the kind neighbor, who is my age, exploded in disbelief when he heard I took a minuscule buyout and bolted from the city’s respected newspaper.
“You’re retired, that’s great,” he said. “More time to sit around and drink beer.”
I started to explain that I was not retiring, but re-training and returning to the halls of academia, but he was having none of that. “Nothing but the good life now,” he said. “All beer, all day.”
Then he clinched the conversation by saying he just got a nice raise while more than 100 of his company’s warehouse workers in Jamestown, N.Y., got their walking papers this week.
“Goodbye, Al,” I said, and tossed the flattened football I was trying to inflate in the garage trash can before trudging into the house.
At least my family came to my rescue. I seem to be again on point – this is going to be a great, transforming adventure that few people in my position have the cohones to take.
One day at a time, bro. One day at a time.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Is 50 the new 30?
April 9, 2009
Dear Followers: Son James is home from college, so I’ve had to take a break from the seriousness of the situation to have a few cool ones, sit in the hot tub and watch some college and pro hockey. Life can’t be all stress, can it? All work and no play makes Jack an unhappy boy, or something like that.
Anyway, I’ve been chipping away, trying to keep myself busy with reading (to prepare for the large volume of bookwork coming this summer), finishing a travel story from our incredible desert adventure last month and sending out some resumes for part-time instructor jobs. We’ll see what happens.
I just hope that the old bugaboo of ageism doesn’t rear its ugly head in my quest for a new career.
I don’t think it will, but someone in the house left an article from the local weekly newspaper on the table entitled, “Is 50 the new 30?” It goes on to say that many people over the age of 50 who find themselves disenfranchised come off as a bunch of lazy, whiny goons. Now where would the writer (whose picture makes her look like someone approaching the five decade range) get that idea? To her credit, she does go on to say that now is the time to “re-invent yourself.”
The writer, Joan Graci, says we over-50 job-seekers should identify our core strengths (check), get the skills you need (working on it), go back to school (check), identify employers who need your skills (schools – secondary and college) and show them what you’re made of (still to come). So, based on that article, I’m not doing too bad.
I would think that in academia, an energetic middle-age instructor would be a highly valued commodity. Not only does that person have book knowledge, but has rich and deep life experience to relate to students. We’ll see if that holds true around this time next year.
Most important for me right now is to keep in mind: One step at a time, one day at a time. If you let your mind race to the future, the whole scenario can get overwhelming. Just know that what needs to be done today is relatively simple.
Another subject I need to tackle is this: I’m tired of hearing working people say, “I’m trying to hang on for (fill in the number of years)."
That’s why I’m where I am today -- unemployed and trying to get back into the academic way of life. I decided after much soul searching earlier this year that I don’t want to just “hang on.” I want to do something that is rewarding and challenging. If it helps other people, especially younger ones, in a meaningful way, that’s a great bonus. A paycheck would help, too.
So my advice to the American worker is this: Stop hanging on, start making a difference. It’s much harder to leave that comfort zone and jettison the guaranteed paycheck, but in the long run, it will be well worth your while. America would be better off if people stopped "just hanging on."
Ciao.
Dear Followers: Son James is home from college, so I’ve had to take a break from the seriousness of the situation to have a few cool ones, sit in the hot tub and watch some college and pro hockey. Life can’t be all stress, can it? All work and no play makes Jack an unhappy boy, or something like that.
Anyway, I’ve been chipping away, trying to keep myself busy with reading (to prepare for the large volume of bookwork coming this summer), finishing a travel story from our incredible desert adventure last month and sending out some resumes for part-time instructor jobs. We’ll see what happens.
I just hope that the old bugaboo of ageism doesn’t rear its ugly head in my quest for a new career.
I don’t think it will, but someone in the house left an article from the local weekly newspaper on the table entitled, “Is 50 the new 30?” It goes on to say that many people over the age of 50 who find themselves disenfranchised come off as a bunch of lazy, whiny goons. Now where would the writer (whose picture makes her look like someone approaching the five decade range) get that idea? To her credit, she does go on to say that now is the time to “re-invent yourself.”
The writer, Joan Graci, says we over-50 job-seekers should identify our core strengths (check), get the skills you need (working on it), go back to school (check), identify employers who need your skills (schools – secondary and college) and show them what you’re made of (still to come). So, based on that article, I’m not doing too bad.
I would think that in academia, an energetic middle-age instructor would be a highly valued commodity. Not only does that person have book knowledge, but has rich and deep life experience to relate to students. We’ll see if that holds true around this time next year.
Most important for me right now is to keep in mind: One step at a time, one day at a time. If you let your mind race to the future, the whole scenario can get overwhelming. Just know that what needs to be done today is relatively simple.
Another subject I need to tackle is this: I’m tired of hearing working people say, “I’m trying to hang on for (fill in the number of years)."
That’s why I’m where I am today -- unemployed and trying to get back into the academic way of life. I decided after much soul searching earlier this year that I don’t want to just “hang on.” I want to do something that is rewarding and challenging. If it helps other people, especially younger ones, in a meaningful way, that’s a great bonus. A paycheck would help, too.
So my advice to the American worker is this: Stop hanging on, start making a difference. It’s much harder to leave that comfort zone and jettison the guaranteed paycheck, but in the long run, it will be well worth your while. America would be better off if people stopped "just hanging on."
Ciao.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
School days
April 7, 2009
Going back to school is like learning to walk or ride a bike again.
I’m going back to visit my alma mater, Bishop Timon-St. Jude, tomorrow to talk with the administration about substitute teaching. I am excited at the prospect of walking the halls again. I haven’t been back to the South Buffalo school since my 20th class reunion in 1994. We spent much of that night recalling our glory days and having a few cool ones on the rooftop retreat once occupied by the school’s many Friars.
I told Judy (blessed wife) excitedly that I get to put my Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes out tonight so I can slip them on in the morning. This could be the start of something good. I’ve always felt an affinity for Timon, probably because my brother has taught there for 43 years. I believe there has been a Stanley in Timon since 1958 (more than 50 years!) when my oldest brother walked in as a freshman. My other brother followed him, and then I came along as well. In the meantime, Jim started teaching there in 1966. When he retires in a year or two, as he says he will, I might be destined to walk to the front of the class as a teacher, keeping the Stanley string alive at Timon for another 15 years. How crazy is that?
I also started browsing through practice tests for some standardized competency exams I’ll have to take in the coming year. It takes a while to get your brain back in analysis mode. Did I ever think I’d be hitting the books again? Well, yes. I’ve had that thought for years now, especially watching my wife and kids enjoying their academic pursuits – for the most part.
Studying is actually fun. It's certainly different from what I’ve been doing. I know I will enjoy walking the hallowed halls of academia again. It’ll be good to be around mostly younger people again. It should get the creative juices flowing. You betcha. You are as you think, so it won’t hurt to be around people 20 to 30 years my junior. Maybe my hair will start to grow back? Who needs Rogaine?
I’ve learned so much in the past couple of weeks, including how to take classes on the Internet, registering for classes on the Web and blogging. Now this is what life and learning is about. I have a lot to catch up on. With no offense to Geico, I feel like a cave man re-emerging into the modern world.
I’m pretty sure it was Ray Davies and the Kinks who sang: School days/are the happiest days/though they seem/so far away.
No longer, my friends, no longer.
Going back to school is like learning to walk or ride a bike again.
I’m going back to visit my alma mater, Bishop Timon-St. Jude, tomorrow to talk with the administration about substitute teaching. I am excited at the prospect of walking the halls again. I haven’t been back to the South Buffalo school since my 20th class reunion in 1994. We spent much of that night recalling our glory days and having a few cool ones on the rooftop retreat once occupied by the school’s many Friars.
I told Judy (blessed wife) excitedly that I get to put my Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes out tonight so I can slip them on in the morning. This could be the start of something good. I’ve always felt an affinity for Timon, probably because my brother has taught there for 43 years. I believe there has been a Stanley in Timon since 1958 (more than 50 years!) when my oldest brother walked in as a freshman. My other brother followed him, and then I came along as well. In the meantime, Jim started teaching there in 1966. When he retires in a year or two, as he says he will, I might be destined to walk to the front of the class as a teacher, keeping the Stanley string alive at Timon for another 15 years. How crazy is that?
I also started browsing through practice tests for some standardized competency exams I’ll have to take in the coming year. It takes a while to get your brain back in analysis mode. Did I ever think I’d be hitting the books again? Well, yes. I’ve had that thought for years now, especially watching my wife and kids enjoying their academic pursuits – for the most part.
Studying is actually fun. It's certainly different from what I’ve been doing. I know I will enjoy walking the hallowed halls of academia again. It’ll be good to be around mostly younger people again. It should get the creative juices flowing. You betcha. You are as you think, so it won’t hurt to be around people 20 to 30 years my junior. Maybe my hair will start to grow back? Who needs Rogaine?
I’ve learned so much in the past couple of weeks, including how to take classes on the Internet, registering for classes on the Web and blogging. Now this is what life and learning is about. I have a lot to catch up on. With no offense to Geico, I feel like a cave man re-emerging into the modern world.
I’m pretty sure it was Ray Davies and the Kinks who sang: School days/are the happiest days/though they seem/so far away.
No longer, my friends, no longer.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Just like Mom
April 6, 2009
It’s taking some getting used to, this working out of the home. I know I had dreamed recently of this being the perfect situation, but it is taking time to get accustomed to it. After all, I spent 31 years being like Fred Flintstone, carrying my brown bag off to work in the morning, hoisting words at the paragraph factory and then waiting for the 6 o’clock whistle to sound to return to the homestead.
Weirdly, I thought of my mother as I was making myself a cup of tea and looking out into the yard while I was taking a break from writing a travel story. Here I was all alone, except for the cat, writing, doing a little housecleaning and firing off a resume or two.
I remember my mother always being at home. We only had one car and, of course, my father took that to work. Mom didn’t know how to drive anyway. This was the 1960s. So for most of her life, Mom spent her days in near-isolation on Kelsey Drive in West Seneca. I don’t think she had many friends in the neighborhood. She liked to talk with her sisters on the telephone, but she was mostly limited to conversations with just one sister who lived in the Buffalo area. In the ‘60s, telephone calls to Olean, where her other sisters and her mother lived, required long-distance service and charges.
I never heard Mom complain about staying home. I know she walked to many places, like Gill’s delicatessen, the dentist’s office and she did some substitute teaching at St. Bonaventure Elementary School. But for the most part, she cleaned, cooked, read her books, recited the rosary and waited for Dad to come home at 4 p.m.
As I stood gazing out the kitchen window at the April drizzle which was morphing into snowflakes, I wondered if Mom was watching me, saying, “Like Mother, Like Son.”
I’m keeping myself busy writing and carrying out the flotsam of duties that have to be done before I start school next month. I find it’s important to keep the mind engaged, so as not to dwell on the task-filled future. In my daily reading of Wayne Dyer’s “Change Your Thoughts, Change Your Life,” he states: “All we ever get is right now – that’s it. So we must avoid the inclination to magnify tiny events or worry about a future that may never arrive.”
Later, Dyer writes, “After all, how do you pursue a difficult course of study that will take several years to complete? By not projecting yourself into the future or using your present moments to worry.”
Whenever I have doubts about my course of action to leave the 9-to-5 world and delve into school, I think about the unanimous support I am receiving from all the members of my family and all my friends. With so many people providing me with love and energy, how can I not succeed?
It’s taking some getting used to, this working out of the home. I know I had dreamed recently of this being the perfect situation, but it is taking time to get accustomed to it. After all, I spent 31 years being like Fred Flintstone, carrying my brown bag off to work in the morning, hoisting words at the paragraph factory and then waiting for the 6 o’clock whistle to sound to return to the homestead.
Weirdly, I thought of my mother as I was making myself a cup of tea and looking out into the yard while I was taking a break from writing a travel story. Here I was all alone, except for the cat, writing, doing a little housecleaning and firing off a resume or two.
I remember my mother always being at home. We only had one car and, of course, my father took that to work. Mom didn’t know how to drive anyway. This was the 1960s. So for most of her life, Mom spent her days in near-isolation on Kelsey Drive in West Seneca. I don’t think she had many friends in the neighborhood. She liked to talk with her sisters on the telephone, but she was mostly limited to conversations with just one sister who lived in the Buffalo area. In the ‘60s, telephone calls to Olean, where her other sisters and her mother lived, required long-distance service and charges.
I never heard Mom complain about staying home. I know she walked to many places, like Gill’s delicatessen, the dentist’s office and she did some substitute teaching at St. Bonaventure Elementary School. But for the most part, she cleaned, cooked, read her books, recited the rosary and waited for Dad to come home at 4 p.m.
As I stood gazing out the kitchen window at the April drizzle which was morphing into snowflakes, I wondered if Mom was watching me, saying, “Like Mother, Like Son.”
I’m keeping myself busy writing and carrying out the flotsam of duties that have to be done before I start school next month. I find it’s important to keep the mind engaged, so as not to dwell on the task-filled future. In my daily reading of Wayne Dyer’s “Change Your Thoughts, Change Your Life,” he states: “All we ever get is right now – that’s it. So we must avoid the inclination to magnify tiny events or worry about a future that may never arrive.”
Later, Dyer writes, “After all, how do you pursue a difficult course of study that will take several years to complete? By not projecting yourself into the future or using your present moments to worry.”
Whenever I have doubts about my course of action to leave the 9-to-5 world and delve into school, I think about the unanimous support I am receiving from all the members of my family and all my friends. With so many people providing me with love and energy, how can I not succeed?
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Year of transition
April 5, 2009
We just spent a weekend at our home away from home – Chautauqua Lake. The one thing that really impressed itself on me during the visit was what a year of change this will be.
There will be three weddings this summer, including our beautiful daughter Jill and her fiancé Colin, and the two children of our good friends, the Andersons. The world seems to be spinning by at an incredible speed with change being the only constant.
Add to the weddings the fact that Jill will be graduating from grad school, James will be a senior in college, Rachel will be headed to Abu Dhabi on another excursion in her global trek and I will be attending grad school in a fresh environment. My wife Judy continues to shoulder incredible burdens at home and at work and does so willingly. On a bigger scale, the country will need to emerge from its economic funk if we are to survive as the United States of America. This calendar year must see an upturn in our economic fortunes.
It will quite the year – 2009.
I was flattered to hear from friends that I am a fabulous role model for my children and those young people I will be attending school with this year. I never think of it that way. Sometimes I think I am a complete kook, having given up a good-paying, stable job to leap into an uncertain future in a new career at age 52.
Our neighbor and confidante, Barb, says I represent what is good about the Baby Boom generation – the generation that at one time seemed to embrace the alternative, the non-material approach to life before it immersed itself in greed and thievery. I shared with her that I have stolen the phrase of author Wayne Dyer as my motto for the next 15 years: How may I serve.
If I end up teaching at a Catholic high school, that will be an honor. If I end up teaching lower socio-economic students at a community college, that will be fine. If I end up being a househusband, then I will fill that role happily.
All I know is that my soul needed a change, and in this year of change I have decided to go for it. My goal now is to keep myself involved, to write and write some more since that seems to be my calling, to keep focused on my schooling and not to be afraid to walk bravely into the unknown.
I see my 22-year-old daughter going undaunted into the unknown as she enters the last rigorous semester of her schooling, preparing to marry and possibly relocate hundreds of miles from her family. How much more change can one person take in less than a year? Now that to me is being a role model.
If I had a prayer for this coming year is would be – Lord, give me courage to stay on this path and see what good and grace I can bring into the world. Amen.
Note to readers: I woke up this morning on Vukote Road and looked at the bedside clock. Yep, it was 7:52.
We just spent a weekend at our home away from home – Chautauqua Lake. The one thing that really impressed itself on me during the visit was what a year of change this will be.
There will be three weddings this summer, including our beautiful daughter Jill and her fiancé Colin, and the two children of our good friends, the Andersons. The world seems to be spinning by at an incredible speed with change being the only constant.
Add to the weddings the fact that Jill will be graduating from grad school, James will be a senior in college, Rachel will be headed to Abu Dhabi on another excursion in her global trek and I will be attending grad school in a fresh environment. My wife Judy continues to shoulder incredible burdens at home and at work and does so willingly. On a bigger scale, the country will need to emerge from its economic funk if we are to survive as the United States of America. This calendar year must see an upturn in our economic fortunes.
It will quite the year – 2009.
I was flattered to hear from friends that I am a fabulous role model for my children and those young people I will be attending school with this year. I never think of it that way. Sometimes I think I am a complete kook, having given up a good-paying, stable job to leap into an uncertain future in a new career at age 52.
Our neighbor and confidante, Barb, says I represent what is good about the Baby Boom generation – the generation that at one time seemed to embrace the alternative, the non-material approach to life before it immersed itself in greed and thievery. I shared with her that I have stolen the phrase of author Wayne Dyer as my motto for the next 15 years: How may I serve.
If I end up teaching at a Catholic high school, that will be an honor. If I end up teaching lower socio-economic students at a community college, that will be fine. If I end up being a househusband, then I will fill that role happily.
All I know is that my soul needed a change, and in this year of change I have decided to go for it. My goal now is to keep myself involved, to write and write some more since that seems to be my calling, to keep focused on my schooling and not to be afraid to walk bravely into the unknown.
I see my 22-year-old daughter going undaunted into the unknown as she enters the last rigorous semester of her schooling, preparing to marry and possibly relocate hundreds of miles from her family. How much more change can one person take in less than a year? Now that to me is being a role model.
If I had a prayer for this coming year is would be – Lord, give me courage to stay on this path and see what good and grace I can bring into the world. Amen.
Note to readers: I woke up this morning on Vukote Road and looked at the bedside clock. Yep, it was 7:52.
Friday, April 3, 2009
New guy on campus
April 3, 2009
It felt pretty good this morning, parking the car on Columbus Avenue and strolling through the rain onto the campus of D’Youville College, knowing that I was to become part of it. I looked down Niagara Street into downtown Buffalo and the business district and thought I won’t miss being part of that scene for the next year or so.
I had to go into the undergraduate dormitory to get to the Health Office for a meningitis waiver and passed bleary-eyed students heading out to their 9 a.m. classes. I made my way to advisement where I got me list of courses to begin my master’s degree. I felt definite exhilaration working with the advisor to get my class schedule set up and devised an ambitious plan to complete my degree in one calendar year.
I’m ready to rock ‘n’ roll - whatever it takes, I will do.
My initial feeling is that this is going to be a lot of hard work, an intense year, but a lot of fun. I can feel the synapses in my brain firing again after years of boredom and inactivity. It’s pretty amazing how we get into ruts and never know it.
Cleaning out some files at the end of the day, I had to laugh because I’d been looking for another job for years. There were resumes, cover letters and “notes to self” spanning 15 years. I knew I wasn’t especially thrilled with my employment at the newspaper, but I never knew it went back so far in my career there. Brain. Dead.
So it was with enthusiasm that I mixed with the young students, watching as they studied, delivered papers under professors’ doors and sat in groups chatting. This is my new world – the world of academia. It seemed oddly calm and civilized. Nobody has had big sniff of the almighty dollar yet, so they’re not half-crazed. Hopefully, they will be able to keep their heads in the right place, unlike the Boomer generation, of which I am a part, which has really turned out to be largely – in the words of the late, great Hunter S. Thompson – a generation of swine.
I definitely sensed a spirit of renewal as I marched around the small, urban campus where, coincidentally my wife and mentor also works. Tee-hee! Who knows, maybe I’ll end up with a job at D’Youville also.
It felt pretty good this morning, parking the car on Columbus Avenue and strolling through the rain onto the campus of D’Youville College, knowing that I was to become part of it. I looked down Niagara Street into downtown Buffalo and the business district and thought I won’t miss being part of that scene for the next year or so.
I had to go into the undergraduate dormitory to get to the Health Office for a meningitis waiver and passed bleary-eyed students heading out to their 9 a.m. classes. I made my way to advisement where I got me list of courses to begin my master’s degree. I felt definite exhilaration working with the advisor to get my class schedule set up and devised an ambitious plan to complete my degree in one calendar year.
I’m ready to rock ‘n’ roll - whatever it takes, I will do.
My initial feeling is that this is going to be a lot of hard work, an intense year, but a lot of fun. I can feel the synapses in my brain firing again after years of boredom and inactivity. It’s pretty amazing how we get into ruts and never know it.
Cleaning out some files at the end of the day, I had to laugh because I’d been looking for another job for years. There were resumes, cover letters and “notes to self” spanning 15 years. I knew I wasn’t especially thrilled with my employment at the newspaper, but I never knew it went back so far in my career there. Brain. Dead.
So it was with enthusiasm that I mixed with the young students, watching as they studied, delivered papers under professors’ doors and sat in groups chatting. This is my new world – the world of academia. It seemed oddly calm and civilized. Nobody has had big sniff of the almighty dollar yet, so they’re not half-crazed. Hopefully, they will be able to keep their heads in the right place, unlike the Boomer generation, of which I am a part, which has really turned out to be largely – in the words of the late, great Hunter S. Thompson – a generation of swine.
I definitely sensed a spirit of renewal as I marched around the small, urban campus where, coincidentally my wife and mentor also works. Tee-hee! Who knows, maybe I’ll end up with a job at D’Youville also.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
A matter of faith
I’m getting ready to head for my advisement meeting tomorrow at D’Youville College for the master’s in education program. This marks my formal re-entrance into academia. I have a course catalog, notes written to myself to ask the proper questions and my trusty notebook at hand. Soon they will be stuffed in the green backpack for the trip in the morning. I have some butterflies in my stomach. It’s been 31 years since I snagged my diploma at Syracuse University.
Earlier today I went to the Newspaper Guild office in the historic Larkin Building to attend a seminar on navigating the unemployment insurance process. It sounds like a relatively easy procedure, but it’ll be a weekly event to register and report any income. Big Brother likes to keep tabs on you when he’s doling out your tax money.
It made for a day that was anxious at times as I start down this road. There are so many uncertainties, but that’s what makes journeys interesting. I keep thinking of the advice I received from our neighbor in Chautauqua who advised me on “taking this leap of faith.”
“There’s something great out there waiting for you. You just can’t see it right now,” she told me several weeks before I took the buyout from my employer in order to pursue my education and devote the rest of my life to teaching – and learning.
It really is a matter of faith. I believe I will be successful at this, regardless of how daunting a task it seems as I write this on a mild April evening in Buffalo. Keep the faith. Remain positive. Take one day at a time. That really is the key: to refrain from looking ahead too far. Just handle the task at hand.
Self-help author Wayne Dyer would probably tell me to believe in abundance, and that the universe will provide what I need when it is needed.
So be it.
Earlier today I went to the Newspaper Guild office in the historic Larkin Building to attend a seminar on navigating the unemployment insurance process. It sounds like a relatively easy procedure, but it’ll be a weekly event to register and report any income. Big Brother likes to keep tabs on you when he’s doling out your tax money.
It made for a day that was anxious at times as I start down this road. There are so many uncertainties, but that’s what makes journeys interesting. I keep thinking of the advice I received from our neighbor in Chautauqua who advised me on “taking this leap of faith.”
“There’s something great out there waiting for you. You just can’t see it right now,” she told me several weeks before I took the buyout from my employer in order to pursue my education and devote the rest of my life to teaching – and learning.
It really is a matter of faith. I believe I will be successful at this, regardless of how daunting a task it seems as I write this on a mild April evening in Buffalo. Keep the faith. Remain positive. Take one day at a time. That really is the key: to refrain from looking ahead too far. Just handle the task at hand.
Self-help author Wayne Dyer would probably tell me to believe in abundance, and that the universe will provide what I need when it is needed.
So be it.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
752
April 1, 2009
For the past decade or so, a puzzling phenomenon has been happening to me.
The number 752 keeps cropping up. Most mornings and evenings when I look at the clock, it says 7:52. When I’m on the treadmill or cross-trainer, I’ll look down and see on the timer – 7:52. At a hockey game, I'll look at the game clock and see 7:52. I’ve played the Pick Three Lotto with lucky 752 several times, but without success.
I’ve heard other people talk about seeing the same number all the time – 911 is a popular one, and in fact I do see that sequence quite often and it’s not in news accounts of the most famous terrorist event in history. They say 911 means to live for the moment. So what does 752 mean?
Especially in the last few years, I’ve been wondering about the significance of 752 in my life. I came to the conclusion that it had something to do with the seventh month of my 52nd year, like something momentous might happen to me. Since I was born in October of 1956, this month that we just entered – April of 2009 – happens to be the seventh month of my 52nd year. Sure enough, something major has occurred in my life. I’ve left a job that I worked at for more than two decades and have taken a new path in life.
I moribundly had been thinking for a while that maybe 752 signaled my demise, as in the appointed time for the grim reaper to come calling for me. There’s still 29 days to go for that, but I don’t think that’s what the number gods had in mind. I think it pointed to this as the time for a major life change.
As for today, it was calm and without much of the mental and emotional turmoil of the past couple of months. I busied myself tying up some loose ends, making some telephone calls to a couple of old friends, doing some housework and mostly trying to get my plans together for the coming 12 months.
I had to laugh when Judy called from D’Youville College, where she is a nursing professor, about 4:30 in the afternoon to say she’d be late for dinner. Here, I’d been slaving over a hot stove for an hour, fashioning some turkey balls out of egg, bread crumbs, milk and, of course, turkey meat to flavor the jarred pasta sauce and spaghetti. Mr. Domestic!
I told her, “Don’t worry, honey, I’ll keep the dinner warm." I actually enjoyed whipping up the evening grub. I think my calling may be as a househusband. A man slave.
Judy loved the dinner, by the way.
Tomorrow I’m headed to a seminar about filing for unemployment. That, in itself, is a new experience for me. (Do one new thing every day!) Today I tried filing for benefits but the state’s Department of Labor computer stated that the two days I’d worked this week made me ineligible. Try again Monday, the computer told me.
As a longtime breadwinner, I still had some minor anxiety about not shuffling off to work (what a bunch of robots we are!) at the appointed hour, and then I started thinking about paying bills a year from now. Ugh. I hope that ugly beast stops rearing its head.
Anyway, I’ve got to teach myself to enjoy these five weeks before school begins – to make it entertaining yet productive. Why not just relax? That’s difficult for a man who has been a worker bee for 31 years, gathering honey for the queen bee’s hive.
For the past decade or so, a puzzling phenomenon has been happening to me.
The number 752 keeps cropping up. Most mornings and evenings when I look at the clock, it says 7:52. When I’m on the treadmill or cross-trainer, I’ll look down and see on the timer – 7:52. At a hockey game, I'll look at the game clock and see 7:52. I’ve played the Pick Three Lotto with lucky 752 several times, but without success.
I’ve heard other people talk about seeing the same number all the time – 911 is a popular one, and in fact I do see that sequence quite often and it’s not in news accounts of the most famous terrorist event in history. They say 911 means to live for the moment. So what does 752 mean?
Especially in the last few years, I’ve been wondering about the significance of 752 in my life. I came to the conclusion that it had something to do with the seventh month of my 52nd year, like something momentous might happen to me. Since I was born in October of 1956, this month that we just entered – April of 2009 – happens to be the seventh month of my 52nd year. Sure enough, something major has occurred in my life. I’ve left a job that I worked at for more than two decades and have taken a new path in life.
I moribundly had been thinking for a while that maybe 752 signaled my demise, as in the appointed time for the grim reaper to come calling for me. There’s still 29 days to go for that, but I don’t think that’s what the number gods had in mind. I think it pointed to this as the time for a major life change.
As for today, it was calm and without much of the mental and emotional turmoil of the past couple of months. I busied myself tying up some loose ends, making some telephone calls to a couple of old friends, doing some housework and mostly trying to get my plans together for the coming 12 months.
I had to laugh when Judy called from D’Youville College, where she is a nursing professor, about 4:30 in the afternoon to say she’d be late for dinner. Here, I’d been slaving over a hot stove for an hour, fashioning some turkey balls out of egg, bread crumbs, milk and, of course, turkey meat to flavor the jarred pasta sauce and spaghetti. Mr. Domestic!
I told her, “Don’t worry, honey, I’ll keep the dinner warm." I actually enjoyed whipping up the evening grub. I think my calling may be as a househusband. A man slave.
Judy loved the dinner, by the way.
Tomorrow I’m headed to a seminar about filing for unemployment. That, in itself, is a new experience for me. (Do one new thing every day!) Today I tried filing for benefits but the state’s Department of Labor computer stated that the two days I’d worked this week made me ineligible. Try again Monday, the computer told me.
As a longtime breadwinner, I still had some minor anxiety about not shuffling off to work (what a bunch of robots we are!) at the appointed hour, and then I started thinking about paying bills a year from now. Ugh. I hope that ugly beast stops rearing its head.
Anyway, I’ve got to teach myself to enjoy these five weeks before school begins – to make it entertaining yet productive. Why not just relax? That’s difficult for a man who has been a worker bee for 31 years, gathering honey for the queen bee’s hive.
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