The Hungry Man

I worked out this morning.  It was a beautiful cool morning and I did my time at my gym.  As a reward, I headed to Starbucks for a grande coffee and a multigrain bagel (no butter of course).  When I got on line I noticed that the man in front of me was a contradiction in style.  He looked kind of preppy with a fleece vest, khaki pants, baseball cap and running shoes.  But when I looked closer, his vest was covered with what looked like cat hair and he had virtually no teeth.  He was carrying a bag from a local chain drug store and so I assumed he had some money.  When we got closer to the counter, he reached down and began to take several juices, yogurt parfaits and sandwiches and stuffed them in his bag with a fervor that only a desperate hungry man can have.  He did not look around and the Starbucks folks were all behind the counter so they could not see what he was up to.  The man was tall but I did not fear for my safety.  All I saw was this hungry man.  I briefly thought about telling the Starbucks people that the man was stealing what would have run up over $50 but in the end I was heartbroken.  I thought in the scheme of things, the $50 was meaningless to Starbucks and the food would keep the hungry man and whomever he might be feeding as well alive.

Monika

A seemingly healthy and beautiful 21 year old woman died last week.  I teach one class a week in an Undergraduate Business program on Monday afternoons.  Her name was Monika and she was always in class early.  She was always prepared, talked rarely in class and sat near the door.  I could always count on Monika to close the door when class began.  She smiled, looked at me and did her job pleasantly and efficiently.

I did not know Monika well.  We spent a total of less than 13 hours together.  But because our class is relatively small, all of "my kids" are special to me, even the ones who do not come to class or who look at their smartphones all class.  But Monika was always there, earlier than most.

Monika was a senior, about to embark upon all of the excitement and unknown that newly minted graduates have to face.  She had a part time job in retail and was a bit of a fashionista.  Who knows what her life would have brought her.

But as the priest said so well at her dreadfully sad funeral, Monika's stay on this earth is over.  A brain aneurysm robbed her of her bright future.

And so, when we return in another week from Spring Break, Monika will not be there to greet me when I arrive early to set up the audio visual tools for my class.  Monika's quiet smile is gone.  Someone else will have to close that door.  Or maybe we will leave it open so that if Monika might want to join us, she can from wherever she is.

The Blue Line

If you are a Whole Foods shopper you may have noticed that they have changed the traffic route for checkout to three separate lines:  Blue, Yellow and Green.  The instructions that are posted say, go to the line that is shortest.  And so, just now, when I went to my neighborhood Whole Foods store, I saw that the Yellow and Green lines had six people each but the Blue Line was empty.  At first I hesitated.  In fact, I conferred with the person behind me who also hesitated.   We both said, "Hmmm.  Do you think the Blue line is broken?"  But having a new found sense of daring which has infused my self ever since I was laid off more than a year ago, I decided to take that risk and go down the Blue Line.

The Yellow and Green line people stared at me as if I was doing something wrong.  The excitement rose as I waited to see what would happen when the Green line got their cashier number and the Blue Line was next.  I have to admit I was a bit worried.  Had I made a stupid choice?

And then, validation.  The Blue box showed number 24.  And I proudly (or really, sheepishly) walked quickly to cashier 24 feeling glares and anger behind me.  I had taken the plunge and my reward was to be served ahead of 12 less daring shoppers.

Why do we all just follow the Yellow and Green lines?  Why are we afraid to take that riskier step and go down the Blue Line???

Perhaps unemployment and founding my own business has been painful but it has made me a much more daring person.  A year ago, I might have been on the Yellow and Green line with the other twelve people.  In fact, I had a history of going on the wrong grocery line to check out.  Always the slowest, always a problem.  Never the first one to the finish line.

But now I am a Blue Line person.  Isn't that amazing...

Why I am afraid to get old

My mother is 88 years old and has many ailments.  I have noticed more and more that many doctors that she visits have no patience for her.  She can't hear, she can't walk very well and she can't see that well either and I suppose that is a blessing in a way.  She is incredibly sharp and has always been an extremely intelligent woman.  And so, if she could pick up on the lack of respect, impatience and disregard of the elderly, she would be heartbroken.  She and so many others deserve much better treatment and certainly more respect.

In the not too distant future, I too will be elderly as will all of these doctors whether they like it or not.

Torstein Tranoy

Hi.  When I started on my entrepreneurial journey in early 2008, I looked at some really cool office space down in Tribeca.  The "incubator space" project was one of an eleven point initiative started by the Bloomberg Administration to help unemployed financial services professionals reinvent themselves.  I spent a couple of really fun hours with the owner of the space on Debrosses Street and he advised me not to sign up until I really knew that I was going to start my own business.  Later on that afternoon I got a call on my cellphone from a European caller.  At first, I thought, "Great.  Here I am unemployed and I am receiving wrong numbers from Europe".  But the caller told me he was actually looking for me.  He was a Norwegian journalist who was writing an article on the Bloomberg program and he was downtown talking to the owner of the Debrosses space who suggested he talk to me.

Torstein Tranoy met me a couple of days later at Bouchon Bakery in the Time Warner Center.  He had a stringer photographer and I felt like a true celebrity as Torstein interviewed me and the photographer snapped dozens of photos.  We had a wonderful time and Torstein was one of the important people who encouraged me to continue on my journey.  He was kind, funny, enthusiastic and extremely interesting.  And shortly thereafter, he sent me the article, complete with my photos, which ran in the Norwegian equivalent of the Financial Times.

I don't know what made me Google him a few days ago.  But I did.  And it was in Wikipedia that I learned that Torstein died very suddenly in September of 2008.  He did not know the many times that I have told the story about receiving his call.  He did not know how much I enjoyed getting to know him although so very brief.

And so, I write about my sadness about the loss of Torstein Tranoy.  Rest in peace, my friend.

It's Raining Cats and Dogs

It was raining cats and dogs in NYC today.  Roads were flooded and it was unusually warm.  Had a near miss on the Henry Hudson.  Huge tree fell on the highway blocking any travel north.  If I had left twenty minutes earlier, I could have been under that tree.  Wow.

It is amazing to me how the world obsesses about Brangelina and the state of their marriage.  After a week of coverage of the poor people in Haiti, we are back to Brangelina and how Elin caught Tiger.  Things never change.

Stuck in the Albuquerque Airport with some Perspective

Hi.  I am sitting in the Albuquerque Airport waiting to see if the next flight out of here is available.  I already tried for one flight.  No luck.  I am confirmed on a flight that is about four hours from now.  Ordinarily I would be frustrated and upset.  But as I sit here comfortable in a seat with my laptop plugged into one of multiple outlets I have my ipod playing with the album from Hope for Haiti Now.  The music is beautiful and the message is extraordinary.  I am well fed, well rested and healthy.  There are relatively clean restrooms in this airport and free wifi.  I am safe.  The weather is good.

So, my perspective is very different than when I have waited endlessly for delayed or cancelled flights in the past.  It really is not that important.  I am blessed.

But when months go by like they did with Katrina and I revert to getting upset about meaningless things, I know that my perspective will revert back again.

Boyfriend?

Hi.  It is Saturday and I was just thinking about how weird it is to call my "boyfriend" of almost 16 years a "boyfriend".  He certainly is not a boy, although he frequently acts like one.  And "significant other" makes my skin crawl.  Whoever thought of that one should be proud it became a standard but must be laughing away all these years.  Can't call him "my old man" because he is not my Dad, although once again he often acts like that and the word "old" has other connotations that he does not like.  I am stumped.  I once heard someone use the term "pseudo spouse".  Not a winner for me.  Anybody have any ideas?

Manfriend - awful
Partner - not really

Hmm.

A little more about me and my blog

In October, 2008 I and many of my remaining colleagues at Lehman Brothers (then Barclays) lost our jobs.  As a typical Boomer I have always been a workaholic and an overachiever and have found prior jobs through referrals, including my more than 11 year position at Lehman.  The world has changed dramatically for me and my daughter in both bad and good ways.  Who would have thought I would be writing a blog??

For me, the past fifteen months have been filled with adventures.  I am writing this blog to share those adventures and to provide and receive support from my fellow Boomers who have lost jobs, are dealing with the health issues of their parents, have boomerang children returning home and who really do believe that 60 is the new 40 (or in my case even younger).

I hope you read my blog and comment often.  Have a great day, Boomers!!