Grateful

My sincere thanks to all of you who have taken the time to read my thoughts, both big and small. At the least, I hope you have enjoyed my posts. Maybe every now and then I've even given you something to think about.

For me, this blog is a hobby, an occasional teaching tool, and a bit of self indulgence, as I've always fancied myself a writer.

I know it seems like things are a little crazy right now. But, those of us of a certain age remember other times when we also weren't sure what the future held.

As kids and then teenagers, we lived through the assassinations of three beloved leaders; the brink of nuclear war with the Russians; a power outage that knocked out the East Coast (many feared it was the Russians); a very unpopular war that was killing thousands of American soldiers, and the first -- and so far only -- Presidential resignation.

If you're not sure what to do with that Amazon gift card you got as a present yesterday, consider purchasing The Soul of America by historian Jon Meecham. He's a great writer and in this book, he chronicles the many times during our history when we managed to overcome division and fear to more forward.

(If his name sounds familiar, he spoke at the funerals for President and Mrs. Bush and was very engaging.)

So, while there's a lot to be concerned about as we head into 2020, I sincerely hope that during this holiday season you can be as grateful as I am for the many blessings that we do have.

As food for thought, please check out this surprisingly motivational video from Steve Harvey.

Wishing you the best in 2020...

The Next Chapter

I've been surprised at how easy it has been to adjust to "retirement."

I've written before about how I "got retired" from a job that I truly enjoyed and hoped to still be working at today.

I honestly thought that I would have to be dragged kicking and screaming into this latest chapter of my  life. Right now, retirement for me is best defined as not working full time in the traditional sense.

I'm the associate in Mari Sennott and Associates, my wife's very successful real estate practice. I'm teaching part-time at a state university about 30 minutes off-Cape and continue to do the occasional organizational communications seminar at a large Rhode Island non-profit.

So, I haven't joined the daily round of golf and a nap crowd yet. But, I've settled into this somewhat non-regimented life style easier than I anticipated.

I'm sure one of the reasons is that I just don't have the energy I used to, which is hard to admit. It seems as if it wasn't that long ago I wouldn't shut off the TV until I saw Johnny Carson's and later Jay Leno's monologue.

Now with our granddaughter's 9:00pm bed time I'm quite comfortable turning in at that hour, too -- whether she's staying with us or not.

So, I can't tell you what goofy things Jimmy Fallon did last night.  And don't ask me about Saturday Night Live. Even if I stayed up, chances are I wouldn't know who the host or musical guest was. The latter is a little discouraging, as I promised a younger me that I would always be cool and keep up with the latest music and trends.

But what's been hardest about this newest phase of life is seeing Father Time catch up -- not only with those generations removed from me -- but friends much closer in age and shared experience.

My Mother's best friend -- the last person she wanted to see in addition to the priest before she died -- passed away herself a week or so ago. Mary was literally the last of a generation of friendships that began more than 50 years ago.

We learned last week of the passing of a good Attleboro friend and a loyal colleague of mine when we served together on the City Council in the 1980's. Tony and I lost touch over the years, but Mari and I have fond memories of spending time with him and his wife at countless political events; enjoying dinner and drinks at Jerimar's (Mari's Dad's restaurant), and having breakfast together on Saturday mornings, when we arrived to take control of the Dennisport cottage that we rented on successive weeks. (It was owned by our local State Rep., who was an ally and friend to Tony and me.)

Thirty one years ago Tony also assured Mari I was not as "old" as she thought I was and that I would be fun to date.

I don't think I ever thanked Tony for that vote of confidence...

...which is yet another reminder that when you reach a certain age, it's important to have all your affairs in order. Not just the legal stuff, but being sure that the things that need to be said are said to those who need to hear them.

Realtors Don't Like Us

It's ironic since we're in the business, but we're the kind of people realtors don't like.

We've lived in the same house for 25 years.

We probably should have moved about ten years ago when I was recruited for a job with an international energy firm that had its North American headquarters in Andover, MA, just a couple of miles from the New Hampshire border.

The commute was a bear, but Megs was a senior in high school, so moving wouldn't have been fair. I also traveled extensively, which would have left Mari alone in a new home, while trying to establish her real estate footprint in an unfamiliar area.

So, I rented the second bedroom of a basement condo in Chelmsford that was owned by the head of HR at an area software development company. Bill was from Pawtucket and had a similar ugly daily commute. He was on the road a lot too, so sometimes only one of us was there. Many weeks neither of us were.

We had a lot in common from our travels and big jobs at large corporations to talking about Rhode Island. So when we were both at "The Foxy," Bill and I spent the time swapping stories and eating the left overs that our wives sometimes packed for us. {The name of the condo complex was Fox Run hence the nickname, which has a special meaning if you're from Rhode Island.}

Mari and I almost moved about two years ago to one of the few Cape condo complexes on her "if we ever" list. But it didn't work out.

You need to understand, there's nothing remarkable about our home. It's your typical Cape style house: one bedroom down with two up and a bathroom on each floor. There's nothing Cape Cod-ish about our subdivision, either. It could be transplanted to almost anywhere and fit right in. There are no water views and while we're really close to ponds and beaches, none are within walking distance.

Our house sits in the middle of a 1/2 acre corner lot surrounded by trees giving the impression that we have roomy front and  back yards.  There's more than enough space when Mariana is over to play soccer and whiffle ball, as well as practice our chip shots.

Aside from the usual updates and repairs, the only major changes we've made to the house are the new kitchen that Mari did this year and outdoor shower that I've wanted since we arrived. Because we've decided to age in place -- that's the technical term for "we ain't goin' nowhere" --  there are vague plans to turn the first floor bedroom into a master suite.

The average American moves about 11 times. So, why haven't we?

When my parents would visit, my Dad often said that he enjoyed coming because our house was "comfortable." I think that description probably best sums up why we're still there after all these years. Our home is comfortable and at this point contains far too many memories to leave behind.

One of the folksy sayings realtors have when a house has been on the market longer than expected is that the home is "just waiting for its owner."

So, in the case of our little house, I guess that's us.

It's the Rock!

Our real estate adventures took us over the bridge to the Plymouth, MA. area last month. We had our granddaughter for the weekend, so when our business was completed, we headed over to the waterfront.

The replica of the Mayflower isn't back yet, but Plymouth Rock is there.

When Mariana asked it was real, we began to explain that the rock is a somewhat random, but symbolic monument to the Pilgrim's landing. We were interrupted, however, by a Park Ranger who began to tell us -- and the assembling group -- the real story.

The fact is, it is the rock. Well, kind of.

The Mayflower arrived in Plymouth Harbor in 1620, after first stopping near Provincetown. But, the rock is not mentioned in any contemporary accounts of the landing.

It wasn't until 121 years later that a 10 ton bolder in Plymouth Harbor was claimed to be the precise spot where the Pilgrims first stepped.

The claim was made by 94 year old Thomas Faunce, a church elder, who said his father -- who arrived in Plymouth in 1623 -- and several original Mayflower passengers told him that the stone was the specific landing spot.

[As our Park Ranger pointed out, this is not possible as the rock was 1) off shore and 2) no self respecting captain would tether his ship to an offshore rock.]

When Faunce heard that a wharf was going to be built over the "Mother Rock," he asked for a final glimpse. He was reportedly carried three miles by chair from his house to the harbor so he could bid it an emotional farewell.

In 1774, with the talk of revolution sweeping the colonies, some Plymouth residents decided that it was time to get Plymouth Rock involved. Using 20 team of oxen, they attempted to move the boulder from the harbor to the Liberty Pole in front of the town's meetinghouse. But, as they tried to load the rock onto a carriage, it accidentally broke in two.

The bottom was buried on the shore; the top taken to the Town Square. In 1834 the rock was moved once more this time to the front of the Pilgrim Hall Museum. And it broke again.

Meanwhile back on the beach, the first canopy was erected in the 1860's to protect the portion of the rock buried there. But, it had to be trimmed so it would fit in the enclosure. [It was later learned that a 400 pound slab of what was cut ended up as a door step at a nearby home!]

Finally in 1880, what we know today as Plymouth Rock was united with its base on the shore. It was then that the date "1620" was added.

The only evidence of the monument's ill fated journeys is a cement scar. But, because of all the accidents, it's estimated that Plymouth Rock is only a third to a half of its original size. Two thirds of what remains is still buried in the sand under its 1620 top.

J.R.R. Tolkein wrote that "legends and myths are largely made of 'truth.'''

So, in that sense Plymouth Rock is real. [Even if it really isn't.]

How Many Days 'Till Christmas?

Where is this year going?"

How many times have you either said or heard that recently?

It seems like the 4th of July was just a few weeks ago and now we're trying to figure out what to do for Thanksgiving. Football season is nearly half over. The stores are an eclectic mess with Halloween decorations and front lawn Santas displayed side by side.

If it seems that time is passing quickly, you're right.

According to an article in Inc. Magazine, research shows that our brain's internal clock runs more slowly as we age, giving us the impression that life is speeding up.

Other research offers that the perceived passage of time is related to the amount of new information we absorb. When we're young, pretty much everything is new, which means we have more to process thus making time seem longer. As we get older, less and less is new.

There's still other scientific work that suggests that the release of dopamine starts to drop past the age of 20, which also makes time appear to go by quicker.

I'll never forget one summer when I was maybe 7 or 8 years old. The days seemed to be lasting forever and I was getting bored. I complained about my boredom one night to my Dad when he came home from work. He told me: "Enjoy all this time while you have it.  Some day you'll wonder where it all went." Now maybe that's a bit strong to say to a little kid, but I've always remembered it.

There is one thing that always seem to go by quickly, no matter how young or old you are: vacation.

It seems that you just arrive and it's time to go.

When my in-laws got a small place in Clearwater, Florida, we didn't understand the fascination. As we've gotten older, we've seen the light. We've just come back from our latest trip  -- and it seems like we went months ago.  We're already trying to figure out when we can get back and how much longer we can stay.

We love Cape Cod, but Florida is pretty cool, too.

I Guess I Got Retired

I somehow thought that there would have been more fanfare.

Maybe an email from a higher up with a fancy title announcing that after years of dedicated service I was trading in my laptop and cell phone for golf clubs and a beach chair. No more early morning meetings and evening events.

But, it didn't happen that way.

I only recently realized that I got retired when listening to my wife describe how I became involved in her successful real estate practice.

"After Hank retired," she explains to our clients "he got his license to work with me and be my Marketing Director."

I didn't think of it that way as I was being clumsily dumped -- on a Monday morning literally minutes after returning from vacation -- from a job I enjoyed. I had envisioned a more gradual transition to retirement over the next few years cutting back to more of a consulting role and training my successor.

I was told the my departure was part of a reorganization. At least I had warning. My boss, our Executive Director, was offed the previous Friday morning and given an hour to vacate the building because what was described as "temporary leadership" from a similar organization in a nearby community was meeting with our staff in two hours.

We were the only ones officially reorganized. But within a few months, most of our staff was gone. Some were long term employees, others were more recent additions, but all committed for the long haul, which we knew was needed to  move the organization from just OK to the community force it needed to be. We were starting to chip away at the obstacles we had to get through, including our volunteer leadership that -- with few exceptions -- was allergic to fundraising and even promoting the organization.

I was six months shy of my 65th birthday and replaced by someone younger. I toyed with the idea of making some noise about age discrimination, but decided it really wasn't worth the effort.

Ultimately, volunteer leadership approved a merger with the larger group folding our organization into a generic "....of Metro South," an ill defined geographic location that you can't even find on a map. Lost in the process was our organization's historic name and legacy as a founding member of the national group.

I'm not looking for sympathy. This kind of thing happens all the time. But that doesn't make it right.

A move like this must have been cooking for months. Yet, we went forward just a few weeks before with our annual meeting and appreciation breakfast complete with all the "its-gonna-be-a-great-year-looking-forward-to-working-with-you-guys" talk from folks, who had to be intimately involved in the scheme. Maybe it's me, but I couldn't be that hypocritical.

Fortunately, it  has all turned out more than fine.

My former boss now heads a regional office of one of the nation's more visible non-profits. She hobnobs with celebrities and just might raise in a night an amount that we would have been thrilled with for a year. Success can be the greatest revenge.

I've been busy since getting retired. In addition to working for my wife, I've fulfilled a bucket list item by being full time faculty again at a local university, where I continue to teach as an adjunct. I actually played golf on a regular basis this summer and took 20 strokes off my score. (Yup, I was that bad.) I conduct organizational communications seminars for a major Rhode Island non-profit and have been encouraged to offer my services to other agencies.

Is there a moral to this story?

One could certainly be cynical and say you should trust no one; watch your back, and git while the gettin's good.

I prefer to say be true to yourself and do the best job you can. If the people around you aren't exactly trustworthy, at least you'll have no regrets.

And you can sleep at night...

Thirty Years

We celebrated our 30th wedding anniversary earlier this month and marveled at where the time had gone. We've had our share of ups and downs and just OKs over the last three decades and survived them all.

We're a somewhat unlikely couple. I'm older and tend to be reserved and a bit too serious at times, while Mari has a more outgoing, life-of-the-party personality.

We had known each other for a while before we actually went out on a date. She was helping run her family's business, a very successful Attleboro restaurant that everyone knew and was the place to meet family and friends. It was so popular that on Thanksgiving Eve and Christmas Eve Eve, a police detail was needed to manage the traffic.

I was a Tuesday night regular with my colleagues on the City Council. We would adjourn to a table in the back of the restaurant after our meetings. Some said that's where the decisions were really made. In fact, we rarely talked business. It was a time -- that seems quaint now -- when politicians could also be personally friendly.  We could go at it tooth and nail at a meeting, then sit down together and have the supper that we often missed, because many of us came right from work to City Hall. The conversation tended towards our jobs, families, the latest community gossip, and upcoming vacations and events. Anyone could pull up a chair and join us. My future father-in-law often did.

Mari and I would flirt. She encouraged me to put ice in my beer, for example. But it took a while for me to get the courage to ask her out.  (See above about how different we are.)

When the time came for our first date, she confided in her Mother that she really didn't want to go out with me.  But Janet advised her "you don't have to marry the guy." Later that night at a desert and coffee bar on Providence's East Side, a couple we were seated next to predicted that we would get married someday, which was about the furthest thing from either one of our minds.

But they must have seen something. We were engaged several months later to the surprise of many.  (See above about how different we are.)

And, as they say, the rest is history.

Fast forward 30 years and we're certainly not as young as we used to be. I'm old enough to be collecting my Social Security check, while Mari is still several years away. We spend more time together now, as I've joined her successful real estate practice. Most days we come home from the office still talking to each other. We're in good health and have plans and dreams that should keep us busy for many years to come.

I love her as much as ever, but she can drive me crazy by leaving the refrigerator door open and constantly looking for her phone and glasses.

But, I can't imagine life without her. She's a devoted grandmother; a supportive mother; a good friend, and often patient with me, which is not always easy. One of these days I'll get my hearing checked...

You can't help but think of all the quotes and cliches about time passing when you experience a milestone like your 30th wedding anniversary.

"One day, you’re 17 and you’re planning for someday. And then quietly, without you ever really noticing, someday is today. And then someday is yesterday. And this is your life." ~ John Green

"Time is more valuable than money. You can get more money, but you cannot get more time." ~ Jim Rohn

"The trouble is you think you have time." ~ Gautama Buddhaa

I'm hoping we do. And lots of it.

The Importance of Saying Thank You

I saw something happen the other day that made me realize that we don't say thank you nearly enough. Or to put it the another way, many of us are not very good at acknowledging what others do for us.

We were finishing lunch at an outdoor restaurant on Hyannis Harbor the other week when a woman came into the table area and said that her husband was having trouble paying to park their car at the adjacent public lot. The booth, she said, was empty, and they didn't know what to do.

When it was explained to her that the structure she was referring to was simply an information booth and that the computerized kiosk next to it was where you pay, she sat down and said "Well, he'll never figure that out. He's 85 and refuses to learn how to use a computer."

That could have been the end of it. But, instead, a young woman, who had been our server, went out into the lot, found the man and explained how the process works. She even took his credit card, went to the kiosk and helped him pay for his parking.

I left the restaurant thinking that I hope someone tells the manager about what she did. Upon reflection, I realize I shouldn't have left the task to "someone." I should have done it myself.

Ralph Marston, who is the author behind The Daily Motivator website, says that we should "make it a habit to tell people thank you. To express your appreciation, sincerely and without the expectation of anything in return. Truly appreciate those around you, and you'll soon find many others around you. Truly appreciate life and you'll find that you have more of it."

The basic idea of appreciating life brings back memories of wife's late Uncle Joe, who told me years ago that he got up every morning, put his feet on the floor, and simply said "thank you."  That's a good habit that I try to follow, but don't always. I'm somehow too busy at 6:00am making coffee and watching ESPN.

This summer is the first in the nearly 25 years that we've lived on Cape Cod that I've had the opportunity to really appreciate the place. For pretty much the whole time we've been here, I've been driving over one of the bridges chasing a paycheck somewhere in Southeastern Massachusetts, Providence, RI, and even Andover, MA -- which is just a few miles from the New Hampshire border.

But due to an unplanned career change two years ago, I'm getting to spend more time on Cape helping my wife with her successful real estate practice and taking a short ride over the bridge to teach at our local state university.  I finally feel like I live here. I even play golf once a week, something I never had time for.

So, I guess I should be 'thankful" that the Board of Directors of the non-profit where I was working hamhandedly reorganized me out of my job in September 2017 without warning and while I was on vacation. I was stunned at the time, but for me personally, it was one of the best things that ever happened.

Let's be honest. Some of us don't think that it's necessary to thank people for doing their jobs. Servers in restaurants and sales clerks in stores are paid to respond to our whims. So, why say thanks?

At the same time, it's also hard for some people to accept what we used to call "attaboys" for performing tasks in their job descriptions.

But, giving and accepting praise is an important part of our psychological well-being, as Dr. Laura Trice explains in the video linked here.

Please take a moment in watch.

Thank you....

Being Random

We spent a day last week at Disneyland in California with people of all shapes and sizes; ethnicities, countries and religions. Some people spoke English, while others didn't.

It was hot and crowded. We stood in lines. A perfect formula for tempers to flare or at least for folks to get a little testy.

But I didn't hear anyone shouting "send them back" or "go home."

Just sayin...

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David Ortiz is out of the hospital and still there is no "real" story about what happened.

While many in the media and elsewhere threw water on the explanation from Dominican authorities that Ortiz was shot my mistake, no one has yet to offer solid proof that the story was all a cover-up to protect the retired Red Sox star.

Even the reports that have been written that claim to tell the true story -- like a recent piece in Sports Illustrated -- fail to reveal anything new.

You have to admit that it stretches the imagination that a country like the Dominican could engineer a false story of this magnitude and keep the lid on it.

It's entirely possible that the shooter was just incompetent. He wouldn't be the first hit man to swing and miss.

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I've crossed one item off the Bucket List that I wrote about a few weeks ago. After 20 years of waiting, I finally have an outdoor shower.  It's probably not that big a deal to most of you, but as a city boy it's one of those things that says Cape Cod to me.

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Does it seem strange to you that there are so many unusual happenings with the weather these days? Tornadoes on Cape Cod? Really? Is this the sudden culmination of climate change or something that years from now people will look back on and declare that 2019 was just a weird year?

As Mark Twain said, "Climate is what we can expect. Weather is what we get."

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Somehow this doesn't seem right. The number one song in 1969 was "Sugar, Sugar" by the Archies. "Honky Tonk Women" by the Stones was number 4.  The Doors' "Touch Me" was number 49.

"Sweet Caroline" finished at 22 for the year.

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Given the traffic, I was kind of surprised to read that vacation rentals on Cape Cod are down this year  because people are afraid of potential shark attacks. I've also seen that the backyard pool business has seen an uptick for the same reason.

My friend environmental writer Todd McLeish recently explained on his blog that not too long ago there was concern that the shark population was dwindling. You can his post here.

"See You in Church"

When we go out to eat, we often sit at the bar. The service can be more more personable and the conversation engaging depending on who you're sitting next to.

I'm not sure how it happened, but we got into a discussion a few weeks ago with someone about Irish Catholic guilt.

For those of you who aren't familiar with the malady, Irish Catholic guilt is the fear of eternal damnation, or even worse, disappointing your Mother, if you fail to behave the way you're supposed to.

The symptoms are various, but one cause of Irish Catholic guilt is not going to church every weekend and having your Mother find out. As a result, those afflicted will sometimes drag themselves to Mass years after they've left home, just in case this could be the week Mom will ask how church was. And you don't want to lie.

For those of us old enough, not eating fish every Friday or not fasting during Lent -- or at least giving up candy -- can still occasionally bring on the guilts, even though the rules are nowhere near as strict as they used to be.

It can also be as simple as not doing "the right thing." However you happen to define it --  in your Irish guilt way of looking at the world.

As actor Edward Burns describes it: "I suffer from Irish-Catholic guilt. Guilt is a good reality check. It keeps that 'do what makes you happy thing' in check."

In the interest of full disclosure, I'm a fairly regular church goer. (Even though officially I'm not exactly made to feel welcome. But, that's a story for another day.) Part of the reason I still attend is that I've been fortunate over the years to be a part of some wonderful parishes staffed by priests, who I connected with. In some cases, we became friendly. Plus there's that thing about not wanting to disappoint my Mother. Even though she's been gone for more than a year, she'll still know!

We raised our daughter Catholic and now our granddaughter is coming to Mass with me and will be making her First Communion next year.

Looking back, the biggest thing I realize about growing up Catholic in the Brighton section of Boston was how segregated we were. Our lives and that of our parents revolved around the church. We belonged to Our Lady of the Presentation Parish in Brighton. The next parish, St. Columbkille's, was about a mile away. But, it was practically sacrilege to go to Mass at St. Col's.

We went to Our Lady of the Presentation Grammar School and attended the 9:00am Children's Mass on Sunday morning, while our parents worshiped in the basement church. We sat with our classes and the nuns who taught us. If we weren't there, our parents were pretty much required to send a note on Monday morning explaining where we were.

Upon grammar school graduation, most of the girls continued on to Presentation Academy, while the boys went off to BC High, Catholic Memorial, and other exam schools. Very few attended the much closer Brighton High School or the co-ed St. Columbkille's High. I honestly think attending St. Col's would have been seen as very disloyal.

For our parents, the church was their "country club," in the words of our bar mate.

There was The Mothers Guild,  Sodality, Catholic Daughters, the men's bowling league, and the Knight of Columbus with their weekly meetings and monthly socials.  Even Cub Scouts and Boy Scouts were an extension of the church.

When I was young I don't think I had a friend, who attended public school.  From who I remember, most of my parents' friends were also connected to our church or at least Catholic. They had some non-Catholic friends, too, particularly people my Dad met at work.

It was a different time. It was safe and secure. We all pretty much believed the same things and participated in the same activities. All the cliches about getting on your bike on a summer morning and not coming home until the street lights came on are true. Generally speaking, everybody's Mom was home, so you could always get lunch and supper somewhere. Parents kept tabs on each others kids and if you misbehaved during the day, your folks knew about it before you got home.

What our culture is missing today is that sense of community church provided for so many people. Our isolation from those"different" from us was a product of the times. Fortunately, most of us moved beyond our limited view of the world as we got summer jobs, went to college and met people with different backgrounds and experiences.

We find community today in smaller groups that sometimes can be just as isolated like Pop Warner football, Saturday morning soccer, youth hockey; after-school programs, and golf leagues. We work too much and when home, stick to ourselves. I think it's safe to say that many people don't know most of their neighbors, even if they have lived near or even next to them for years. When I was growing up, you would at least see them in church. People went to Mass at the same time and usually sat in the same pews.

Today, the church is not the all  encompassing and uniting force that it once was. In the case of my faith, the sex abuse crisis and the exclusionary or archaic attitudes towards women and the LBGQT community have become stumbling blocks for participation.

Sadly, the words "see you in church," just don't mean what they used to.

Friends and Family

Maybe it's me. Or maybe it's a guy thing. But, I'm not very good at keeping in touch with friends.

On the other hand, my wife has more friends than Jay Zee has benjamins, although her definition of friend is very broad.

It's important in her business to be as friendly as possible with as many people as possible. That's one of the keys to her 20 years of success in the real estate profession. Buyers and sellers want to associate with people they like and trust. The days of the slick real estate or used car sales associate are fading as more emphasis is placed on the importance of creating and maintaining relationships.

So, it's not surprising that it seems more women than men work in the real estate profession. It's the same in Public Relations. I'm also seeing more women in car showrooms, too.  I know it's a cliche, but women are often seen as more nurturing; more in tune with people's feelings and emotions. Even more trustworthy.

Completing the transaction used to be king. Now maintaining the connection is just as important. Information about customers that was once kept on a spread sheet for possible future reference is now housed in elaborate Customer Relationship Management (CRM) systems.

Did you get a card from your realtor congratulating you on the first anniversary of your home purchase? That's no coincidence. It's part of an ongoing effort to maintain a relationship with you in the hopes that you'll also buy your next home from that person or recommend him/her to a friend.

There are few things that can be caught up in more emotion than buying a home. It's a big decision to commit yourself to borrowing and then paying back hundreds of thousand of dollars. When buying their first home, it's not unusual for young people to have well meaning relatives, family, and friends whispering in their ears that they're not ready; that they should save more money.

There have already been a few times in my short career in real estate that I've seen parents -- usually Dad -- sabotage the purchase of a home that a young couple loves because the roof or furnace needs to be replaced and "they don't have the money."

I'll never forget one Dad who got out of his car, looked at the roof, and declared that a new one was needed. He got back in the car and never saw the rest of the house, which his daughter and son in law fell in love with. They never came back to see it again or make an offer.

When the house was sold just a few days later to another young couple, the home inspector said that the roof was good for at least another 10 years. When I told him about the Dad, who declared that it needed to be replaced, he smiled and said "He was probably an accountant, who just didn't want them to buy a house. Obviously, he didn't know a thing about roofs."

If we're honest with ourselves, there's never a "good" time to make a major purchase like buying a home or our first new -- not previously owned -- car.

Interestingly, the reasons for purchasing homes are changing.  The chart below shows an increasing number of people buying to accommodate several generations.

Of those buyers, 26% indicated they will be taking care of an aging parent, and 14% said that they wanted to spend time with an aging parent. These numbers do not come as a surprise. According to the Pew Research Center, 64 million Americans (that's 20% of the population) lived in a multi-generational household in 2016.

So, it's too bad Dad sabotaged that sale. He really would have liked living in the house...

Random Again

I know Internet security is very important. But, do we have to jump through what seems like an endless series of hoops to change a password? How many verification codes are really necessary? It took me what seemed like forever to change the password on one of my personal accounts, which are mostly filled with junk mail. But I can't bring myself to dump any of them, because I'm not sure on what important documents they may be listed.

Drivers of pick up trucks seem to be some of the slowest on the road. Particularly in the morning when they're heading to the job. Coincidence? Maybe not...

For those of you who have issues with social media and Twitter in particular, check out this conversation with Twitter CEO Jack Dorsey: How Twitter Needs to Change

He agrees with you.

Several years ago my mother-in-law gave my wife the following advice: "The older they get, the more they become like little boys."

While doing yard work last fall, I tripped and slightly fractured my ankle requiring a brace for a 10 days. I also sprained my wrist and broke my thumb at the same time putting me in a cast for six weeks.  A few weeks ago while emptying the dishwasher on a Sunday morning following a Saturday night cookout (where the gas for the grille ran out before the food was cooked), I sliced my finger on a serrated knife and needed five stitches.

In between those incidents, I have clumsily fallen up flights of stairs requiring me to re-engage the ankle brace. I've had a tooth ache that I moaned about for days before going to the dentist. I've also suffered through several bouts of flu like symptoms. I see my chiropractor on a regular basis and if I don't start the day on the floor for 10 minutes with a tightly rolled up towel at the small of my back, I'm creaky (cranky?) all day. My allergies also bother me.

I think Janet might be onto something.

...and about the grille running out of gas. In my defense, I cleaned and started the grille the day before and everything seemed fine. And no one had to remind me to do it!

It's interesting how many want to blame Alex Cora for the Red Sox woes. He can

only manage the players he has and if they're not doing the job, it's not his fault.

As Rick Pitino famously said "All the negativity that's in this town just sucks."

Thoughts on Sox

Even though several days have passed since we first heard the news, it's still difficult to process the words "David Ortiz" and "shot" in the same sentence.

No matter the reason -- not that there could ever be a good one -- you have to hope that something greater will come from this. That's the only way to make any sense of what happened.

This incident showed once again the limits of social media. I talk to my students all the time about understanding the sources of the information that they read on Twitter and elsewhere.  It's a lesson that some adults could learn as well. Be sure that your sources are reputable and not ones that engage in rumors and half truths. Some of the information about the Ortiz shooting that has been repeated and retweeted as fact is at this point gossip and speculation from questionable outlets.

Another lesson for my students when I see them again is that as a story initially unfolds you should also be cautious about early reporting from legitimate media outlets.  In the race to be first, incorrect information or impressions are sometimes reported.

For example, the Dial Bar and Lounge, where Ortiz was shot, was initially described as a bar and/or nightclub, leading to social media comments questioning why he was at a place like that and asking where was his family. Reports now describe the establishment as a "fashionable open air cafe," where he was sitting with a Dominican television producer,  a totally different image than the one first presented.

____________________

Great reporting on the Ortiz shooting from WBZ-TV's Anaridis Rodriguez, who was born and raised in the Dominican. She obviously had sources in the country that made her reporting some of the most accurate among Boston media.

A few weeks ago, she shared via social media some of the racial insults she receives on a regular basis because of her heritage. For example, one comment to her began by calling her a "spic."

And that's one of many things that's wrong with social media.

____________________

As someone who has worked in the media business for more years than I care to count, I knoicw the importance of being sensitive to the sentiments and opinions of your publics. So, Major League Baseball's decision to change the designation "Disabled List  to "Injured List" was certainly long overdue.

But, this one I don't get. Apparently there's been some talk in NBA circles about the term "owner" being inappropriate. I fully understand the possible sensitivity to the word in a league where most of the owners are white, while the majority of players are minority.  But, what word or phrase could be substituted for "owner" without turning the language on its head and creating a term that's just plain silly and pandering?

____________________

My daughter recently took me to a Red Sox game for my birthday. Great seats in right field. The Sox lost, but a fun night with Megs!

I'm always amazed at ticketed events how people can't seem to find their seats. There was all kinds of shifting around in the first few innings as people sat in the wrong rows or just plunked themselves down in vacant chairs only to be forced to move when ticket holders arrived. I'm not singling out a couple of guys with a beer in each hand, who just decide to sit somewhere. I'm talking about families -- Dad, Mom and three kids -- just randomly finding five seats and hunkering down. How hard can it be to read the row and seat number and find the correct spot?  Apparently quite difficult for some people...
___________________

I'm  a firm believer in the cliche that the best hockey is play off hockey. That being said, I regret not watching the Bruins more during the regular season. I didn't realize they had the potential to reach Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Finals.

____________________

When he was managing the Red Sox, Jimy Williams somewhat famously said that the season was a "marathon, not a sprint." So there's no reason to give up yet. Right??

Fathers, Sons, and Golf

I first became aware of the game of golf as a kid when I saw my Dad leave the house at 7:00am on Saturday mornings with his golf bag over his shoulder. I can still picture his orange ball cap, but I don't remember the course name and can't see the logo in my memory.

Dad was an avid golfer when he was younger. He bought both my brother, Jeff, and I our own set of clubs that we proudly took to the driving range with him.  Unfortunately, they were stolen from his car while parked at a downtown Boston garage near where he worked. I never owned another full set until about 15 years ago, when we began playing with friends.

I don't remember when my Dad stopped playing golf on a regular basis. I suspect it had something to do with his perpetually bad back and/or being too busy with life as his first two sons grew and a third somewhat unexpectedly arrived.

My Father still played every now and then. When friends would visit from Indiana they would always spend a weekend at what was then the Sheraton Hyannis near the Melody Tent. The boys would play golf at the hotel course, Twin Brooks, while the girls would cruise the Cape Cod Mall and have a leisurely lunch.

My Dad's been gone almost 11 years, but I just recently went through all the pockets in his golf bag and found several pencils from Twin Brooks.

He also would play on occasion when he and my Mother would visit us on the Cape. Nine holes at our home course, Holly Ridge in Sandwich, with Mom riding shotgun in the cart, followed by lunch in the Clubhouse. He also played when we vacationed for a few summers at the Jack-o-Lantern resort in New Hampshire. Ironically, my parents took us there when we were kids, but I don't remember him packing his golf bag.

Dad would be rusty when he teed it up, but you could see that he probably had a very respectable handicap in his younger days. I'm sure he played at other times, too, probably with my youngest brother, Eric. But, he never got back to anything consistent.

He still passionately followed the game and would attend pro tournaments when they came to the area. My daughter has fond memories of going to the Senior Open in Salem, MA. with her Grandfather, Uncle Eric, and Dad. We got there in time to see the pairing of Arnold Palmer and Jack Nicklaus tee off and sat in the stands with David Duval, who was there watching his Dad play.

My Father was the best at getting autographs and my brother has several hole flags and program books filled with signatures from everyone from Donald Trump to Greg Norman.

He was excited for a number of reasons when my folks finally left the Brighton section of Boston and moved to the suburbs in Natick, where Eric and his wife live. One was that the driving range where he took Jeff and I when we were kids was just minutes away. He talked of practicing there and hopefully playing again at a nearby course.

Unfortunately, shortly after moving Dad learned that the pain he was experiencing wasn't his back acting up again, but cancer. He passed a little more than a year later having never got to the range.

Mariana with Holly Ridge teaching pro Darren Falk

I know he'd be pleased that his seven year old great granddaughter is taking lessons at Holly Ridge; can drive the ball 100 yards; has good club speed, and is an excellent putter.

Since it's summer and golf season, my reading list has featured several books about the game. It seems that more than a few have been written about sons, their Dads and golf.

One particularly touching book is Final Rounds written by golf writer and biographer James Dodson. It's mostly the story of a trip the author took with his ailing Dad to golf courses in Scotland and England, some of which Dodson's Father played as soldier during World Way II.  But it's also about Dodson's memories of his Dad, golfing buddies and final days. If you've lost your Father, the closing chapters might be a little gut wrenching. They were for me.

If nothing else, Dodson's experience made me promise myself that I will take the time to play with my granddaughter. Weather permitting that's what I hope to be doing Fathers Day, nine holes with Mariana and Mari, then lunch at the Holly Ridge Clubhouse.

I'm hoping that someday I can finally visualize that logo on my Dad's hat and take Mariana to where her great grandfather played.  Lasting memories are made on the golf course and that's one I don't want to miss.

I'm living to 120...

... to which my wife says: "Oh, great."

I'm not big into self help books. I think the content is all pretty similar with different versions of the same advice. I feel the same way about books that tell you how to run your business. Same advice, just a different spin.

The only possible exception is the content currently being generated by Gary Vaynerchuk, aka Gary Vee. He owns a highly successful international marketing firm and was an early investor in social media. You might say he's a bit of a philosopher about a number of topics, including living your life and running a successful business. Vaynerchuk's videos have been a big hit with my students over the last few years at least in part, I think, because his language can be more than a little salty. So much so that I would sometimes apologize in advance before sharing one, just in case someone was uncomfortable.

But that's not the subject of this posting.

My topic is how people deal with growing older. I don't know about you, but when I thought about an older me, it was somehow a different person. But here I am, officially a "senior" and it's the same me. People who haven't seen us in a while tell my wife and I that we "never change." I used to believe it about me, until a college buddy recently texted a picture from our campus radio days.

Photographic evidence aside,  I still think I'm the same kid, who was playing "Freebird" on WTBU in 1974.

So my research on Amazon for books about getting older led me to I've Decided to Live 120 Years by Ilchi Lee.

While some of what Lee writes is new age mumbo-jumbo, he did offer a few interesting insights.

According to Lee, scientists say that we have the biological capacity to live 120 years. So if that's the case, shouldn't we at least act as if we could? Upon reaching a certain age, too many people conclude that's all there is and live their remaining years with no sense of purpose. Retirement is seen as the end; nothing else to do but wait.

Lee says we need to determine what we want to accomplish during the second half of our lives. If it's travel, make a plan for several years out. Volunteer? Make a long term commitment to do something. Start a second or third career? Go for it.

Our goal should be completing our lives and not leaving any unfinished business. No coulda, woulda, shoulda when the time comes.

Rome's Spanish Steps

While I'm not a retiring kind of guy that advice did hit home with me.

I became aware late last year of a potential six week summer teaching opportunity in Rome. While I applied too late, I was encouraged to put my name in this September for the summer of 2020. To be honest, I've been getting cold feet. I'll be 67 then. ("The good Lord willing.")  Even though Mari will come with me for at least part of the time, I started to doubt whether I wanted to be on my own for a few weeks so far away from home . Maybe I would be too old for something like that.

But after reading Lee's book, I realized that there's no harm in applying. I know I'd regret not trying. I was visiting Rome regularly for work not that many years ago and have several former colleagues I'd enjoy seeing again. The weeks Mari would be there could give us a chance to visit other parts of Italy. She and Meg did join me on one of those work trips and they have very fond memories -- and pictures -- of charming waiters and cabaret crooners, who sang Michael Buble tunes. Maybe we could find a way this time for Meg and Mariana to join us. Friends might want to take advantage of the free accommodations, My self doubt could cost all of them an incredible experience and I wouldn't forgive myself for that.

In the big picture, Lee writes that "American Baby Boomers who are now seniors have massive power -- politically, economically, socially, culturally -- that cannot be compared with previous generations. The older generation not only has plenty of time, but also the passion to pour their energy into meaningful work."

While it might be disconcerting to think of ourselves as the older generation, isn't it better to be in the game than sitting on the sidelines?

So, my senior and not so senior friends, I have a question for you. What are you going to do with the second half of your lives?

(If you care to share your plans, please do.)

Random Redux

When did it become OK to start pumping gas and leaving your vehicle unattended to go inside and get coffee?

Something to think about from Larry the Cable Guy. (Yes, Larry the Cable Guy.) Turn off the TV news and go out into your community and see the many ways people are working together and helping each other. Not that there aren't serious issues to discuss, but the talking heads and the politicians with the extreme views, who seem to dominate the conversation, are the outliers not everyday folks.

Is it programmed somewhere in our DNA that we start visiting our doctor more often when we reach a certain age?

Here's one I don't understand. Chase Bank recently posted what they thought was a harmless #MondayMotivation tweet with some simple ideas to save money. Nothing that most of us haven't thought of at some point...like eating what's in the frig and not going out, or making coffee at home, instead of going to Dunks.  (If we saved half the money we've spent at restaurants over the last 30 years, we'd own that Florida vacation home we talk about!)

But the twitterverse and the more liberal amongst us -- who I often agree with, but not this time -- decided that the tweet was "poor shaming." So, of course, Chase had to apologize; take down the tweet, and promise to be more thoughtful in the future. I guess you can't be sure anymore about what is or isn't acceptable.

I always admired John McCain. But even my Dad said McCain was too old to be President when he ran against Barack Obama in 2008.  If you haven't read his final  book, The Restless Wave: Good Times, Just Causes and Great Fights, I encourage you to.

After our bout with all that rain, I don't think I could live in the Pacific Northwest.

I don't know if I buy this, but marketing mogul, investor, and raconteur Gary Vaynerchuk  (aka Gary Vee) is predicting that sports cards are the next big thing.

We just had our Annual Town Meeting and elections for local office. I wish the enthusiasm shown for the issues on the townie Facebook pages translated into people actually attending and voting. Lots of excuses after the fact about why people didn't turn out. I'm sorry. I managed to serve in Town government for 10 years, while raising a family, working off Cape, and having a wife who worked full time, too. If people are truly as concerned as they claim to be on social media, they would find the time to attend a one night a year Annual Town Meeting on Monday and vote in an all day Thursday election, which are both held at the same time every year.  It's all a matter of priorities...

The Red Sox bandwagon. On or off?

On Being Uncomfortable

Now that the Academic Year is just about over, I feel comfortable telling this story.

At the conclusion of one of the last classes of the semester of an Intro to PR course, a student approached me to say that she had been "uncomfortable" with something that occurred.

I mentally ran through the topics we covered. It was actually a pretty boring class: an information dump about legal considerations in the Public Relations business. For example: obtaining permissions to use photos, and citing reputable sources like Consumer Reports or J.D. Powers, if you're going to compare your product to a competitor's.

I was pleased that she stepped forward. I was clear at the start of the semester that since this was a Public Relations course, we would be talking about current events. If we wandered into an area that hit a nerve, I encouraged the class to let me know.

No one stepped forward during the semester. In general, I think I have a good rapport with my students. I'm also very careful about prefacing topics that could be the least bit controversial with comments like "We're all adults here," or "This is a broad generalization."

I'm also sure that it's not easy to speak to a professor about something he said in class. (Especially one who is old enough to be your grandfather!)

So, after thanking the student for coming up, I asked what made her uncomfortable. She answered that it was my use of the word "uncivilized."

I had been using the current measles outbreak as an example of a Public Relations and educational opportunity for the medical field. We had talked about it a few weeks earlier and I had been sure back then to acknowledge that there may be some students in the room or members of their families, who believed that vaccinations weren't safe.

When talking about the crisis this time and the Public Relations challenges that the medical field was continuing to face, I said that one would expect to hear about the return of a disease that had been been declared eradicated in a more "uncivilized" area, not a country like the U.S.

I supposed I could have used a better word like "underdeveloped." But my choice of "uncivilized" wasn't malicious or critical of a particular region or group of people. I teach almost all of my classes without any prepared notes, just PowerPoint slides that serve as talking points. So, I'm sure every now and then I've said something that's arguably a little off base. But, this was a first time a student had spoken with me about what I had said.

I applaud the student for talking with me and in no way want to minimize her feelings. But at the same time, I started to wonder how the younger generation is learning to deal with topics, conversations and people that make them "uncomfortable."  That's a very broad term that means different things to different people.

I supposed it's a matter of personal priorities and experiences. Maybe this student's family comes from a part of the world that has been unjustly termed "uncivilized." I honestly don't know. She never explained.

But she did touch a nerve with me, as I never want anyone to be uncomfortable in my classes. We had discussed other topics during the semester that had me half expecting an invitation from my Department Chair -- who was teaching in the classroom next door -- to stop by for a little chat. But the phone never rang.

So, this caught me totally by surprise, given some of the other topics we had gotten into. But I also started thinking about anyone who speaks in public. One of the basics is to know your audience. But, can you ever really be sure today about who is listening and what might make them uncomfortable?

Additionally Random

If plastic bags are being banned, I guess that means we've saved the trees.

I feel bad for Joe Biden. By today's standards his "hands on" style of relating to people is no longer deemed appropriate. While I'm in no way dismissing the feelings of those who felt uncomfortable, he is by all accounts considered a good man by people across the political spectrum. To see the haters take a picture of him consoling his grandson at his father's (Biden's son) funeral and crop it in a way so it seems he's being inappropriate with a young boy is beyond wrong. (The photo didn't identify him as Biden's grandson.)

It just seems that too often we're apologizing. In teaching, I sometimes feel like I'm on the defensive. I can't count the number of times I've prefaced a point by saying "I'm making a broad generalization here," or "Not that there's anything wrong with that." Just in case a student might be offended.

In honor of my recent birthday, I've started a bucket list. (Or as my friend Mike calls his, a Life List.)

Short term items include joining a spring/summer golf league (done) and having an outside shower installed (which I think will happen in the next few months.)

Intermediate goals include visiting New Orleans; Memphis and Nashville; attending Patriots and Red Sox road games somewhere interesting and/or warm; another trip to Italy, and spending time in two of our favorite places, Clearwater and Lake Tahoe. I went to Kiawah Island back in my United Way days for a conference. I wouldn't mind returning, though I don't think my golf game is up to the challenge.

Long term, I want to attend my granddaughter's high school graduation. And if I'm real lucky, her college one, too.

I've also always enjoyed writing and have done my share as a corporate PR person and occasional free lancer. I've taught a number of classes about it over the years, too.  (I'm scheduled to teach Sports Writing this summer at the Plymouth campus of Curry College, if anyone is interested.) So, I'm curious to see what possibilities might be out there for me beyond this blog and the one at the website for my wife's real estate practice.

For her birthday, we recently took our granddaughter to a hotel that features an indoor water park. It was great to see so many young families -- and grandparents -- having fun with the kids. But I hope this younger generation stays in shape. Otherwise, all the ink they're wearing is going to look mighty silly a few decades from now.

Another sign that you're getting older. You're referred to as a "gentleman."

Even his critics have to admit that Tiger Woods' success is stunning. Not that long ago he was hoping to simply be able to walk.

His Masters win reminded me of my sainted Aunt Elsie, who was a cloistered Poor Clair nun for about 70 years. Somehow she became a Tiger fan and would commandeer the TV from the other sisters on Sunday afternoon, especially if he was making a charge. During his personal crisis, she greeted us once by saying "Poor Tiger. All those awful things those girls are saying about him."

But, don't think my Aunt was naive. She also asked us in the midst of the Clinton impeachment why Monica Lewinsky kept the dress!

A Pair of Sixes

Another year; another birthday.

They say that you're never too old to learn and I've certainly had my share of lessons this past year.

I've been reminded once again of the time and effort that it takes to be a teacher. While the schedule and responsibilities of a full time college professor (especially one who doesn't have classes on Fridays) aren't the same as an elementary or high school instructor, the subtle suggestions that you don't have a "real" full time job are similar.

A lot of what you do is invisible. The organization, preparation, and research happens under the radar. You're not always scrolling through Twitter for the latest scores or gossip. You're sometimes looking for a current example of a topic you're teaching. Reading for pleasure is replaced by underlining key concepts in textbooks for a presentation in the upcoming weeks. You listen to a podcast while driving to campus in the hopes of finding an anecdote that you can use in the lecture you're giving in two hours.

Today's students are growing up in a challenging era. The pressures and temptations that we faced back in the day don't compare to what they deal with. While you can be humbled that someone in your class chooses to confide in you and seeks your advice, you can also feel woefully inadequate in responding to their concerns.

Another lesson from my 66th year is that unlike Tiger Woods, who got one of the biggest do-overs ever by winning the Masters, the chances for one more bite of the apple are slim for most of us who are past a certain age.

Even though we can offer the value of our failures and successes, another big win probably isn't in the cards, because potential employers believe that we expect too high a salary or will leave (read retire) after a year or two.

The research says that's simply not the case. Older workers, who are far healthier than previous generations, want to continue to make meaningful contributions and have much to share as mentors and experienced leaders.

That's why I'm grateful that I've always had a second career in higher education and within the last two years have been able to take on a greater role in my wife's real estate practice.  Both are fields where experience is actually considered an advantage.

At this point in our lives, we've also done the best we can to raise our children, who are now adults with families of their own. None of us are trained to be parents. We learn on the job. We can only hope that the advice we gave; the example we set will somehow serve as a compass as they navigate through their own lives.

If we haven't, we need to learn that the decisions our children make are theirs, and not a referendum on our parenting skills. They still may disappoint us on occasion, but give them time as our parents gave us.

By now most of us have learned to adjust to life without our parents. I'm lucky. This is my first birthday without my Mom. I'm also fortunate that my "sainted mother-in-law" is available for advice, which she gives willingly. (Whether asked for or not!)

But more than anything else, as I grow older I continue to learn the futility of hanging on to the past.

Events that occurred months, years or even decades ago serve as anchors that hold us back as we sail into the uncharted waters of our years still to come. We can't change whatever happened, so what's the point of continuing to be chained to it? Take whatever lesson there is from the experience and move on.

I like to say that I've entered "shit happens" territory. I'm not afraid of it or even worried about it. But I acknowledge where I am.

The actuarial tables say I should live to be 91 giving me almost 25 more years on God's mostly green earth. Of course, what the numbers can't predict is the quality of my life.

So I have less interest in waiting 'till next year. I've started a bucket list, and cringe at even the thought of time lost or wasted on something that will never be featured in the highlight reel when my name is called.

Author Michael Leboeuf says that when you "waste your money; you're only out of money. But, waste your time and you've lost a part of your life."

And our lives are too precious to waste.

Lesson learned.

More Randomness

To the person who was speeding and cut me and several other drivers off in their haste to get to church on time, I don't think that's what Jesus would do.

If you've been involved in higher education for more than 20 minutes, you weren't surprised by the celebrity college admissions scandal. Back in my younger days, I served on the Academic Review Board at a small New England college, where I was teaching. As we reviewed the grades and potential of students who did not fare well during the semester, we would be interrupted several times during the process by a knock on the door summoning the Dean, who chaired our group, to the President's Office. He would return to tell us that a particular student was off our review list, because the family had just made a generous donation.

I tend to see things from the liberal side and am certainly no fan of the President. But it was uncomfortable watching the morning network news hosts trying to continue the collusion story when clearly the Special Prosecutor had debunked it. This kind of behavior only provides more evidence to the fake news crowd.

I'm enjoying podcasts more and more and radio less and less. There's more variety, less repetition, and I feel like I'm always learning something.

After watching a weekend of March Madness, the NBA seems very boring.

You wouldn't think that recent stories involving Lori Loughlin and Michael Jackson would have anything in common. What they share is that in both cases the reaction of  a certain segment of the population was to deal with the issues raised by ignoring them. Stop listening to Jackson recordings and fire Loughlin from the Hallmark Channel. The first reaction does nothing to punish Jackson, nor give the men who were featured in the HBO documentary their lives back. The second was a pre-reaction to the Twitter mob, who would have quickly moved on to another issue. Ignoring uncomfortable issues doesn't solve them. People have to find the space in their consciousness to handle both sides of the coin.

Did you enjoy how Bill Belichick handled the wiseguys from TMZ as much as I did?

Why is it easier to forgive than forget?

I finally know what "chalk" and "OG" mean.

This from Dean College colleague and voice of the PC Friars John Rooke's "Thinking Out Loud" column. This major league baseball season marks the first time there isn't a single player who played in the 20th century.

This Red Sox fan isn't panicking.

Yet.

Time to Step Aside

As a long time New England Patriots fan and someone who has worked in the PR business for more years than he cares to count, I've been watching with interest Bob Kraft's desperate attempt to maintain his position and reputation following his arrest on charges of soliciting sex.

I think we all agree that for a man in his position to visit a strip mall massage parlor was incredibly stupid. He knows people. He knows people who know people. If he was interested in a paid for rendezvous, you have to believe that there was someone in his contact list who could have arranged it.

Few buy the defense being offered by some of his apologists that we're talking about businesswomen, who were simply being compensated for services rendered. Or that he's just a lonely widower.

The damage is done. So where does Kraft go from here?

He may legally have the tape of his encounter suppressed, but it will surely end up on TMZ  or an internet porn site. They'll offer too much money in exchange for the video. Someone will accept their offer.

Declared guilty or not, the NFL will have to exact some kind of a punishment. There will be too much pressure from other owners, players, and interest groups to fail to take action. It was unfair, but Kraft's name and the League have been connected with human sex trafficking and a response is  necessary.

Can Kraft continue to be the face of the team?

I don't think so.

Every time he is shown sitting in the owners box during a game, fans across the country will be reminded of what happened. New Englanders have been quick to forgive Kraft, but the League needs to consider its total fan base, most of whom hate the Patriots and will be demanding punishment.

In a blog posting entitled "What to do when your CEO is arrested for prostitution," W. Patrick Sweeney from Axia Public Relations wrote

"From a PR standpoint, a company should treat a high-profile arrest like an unexpected death or incapacitation of a company leader: They must have a succession plan in place. The company must change the face of the organization in order to insulate itself from the negative publicity."

That's solid advice. Kraft is 77 years old. Transitioning to an emeritus status might make sense. This would allow his son, Jonathan, who is team President, to assume the lead role.

The involvement of Kraft's son Josh in the organization has been fairly low key. He heads the New England Patriots Foundation, as well as leads a major Boston area non-profit.  From a PR standpoint, his increased visibility at this time would be a plus.

(Another son, Daniel, runs the family business. International Forest Products, LLC. is a worldwide trading company that markets paper, pulp and solid wood products to more than 90 countries.)

Questions have been asked for years about when Head Coach Bill Belichick, who will be 67 next month, might step aside. Given his recent sun and fun/Hollywood date night profile with long time girlfriend Linda Holliday, you could assume that he's starting to wind down. The next year or so would give him the opportunity to transition to a President of Football Operations role and allow Josh McDaniels to take over on a day-to-day basis with Tom Brady still on the field.

Obviously, this is conjecture from afar.

What isn't speculation is that it will be difficult, if not impossible, for Bob Kraft to maintain his very public role with an organization that he turned from laughing stock into one of the most successful franchises in sports history.

He needs to end the drama and step aside for the good of the team.