Father to Son(s)

"If you can keep your head when all about you

are losing theirs and blaming it on you

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you

but make allowances for their doubting too

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting

Or being lied about, don't deal in lies

Or being hated, don't give way to hating

Yet don't look too good nor talk too wise


If you can dream and not make dreams your master

If you can think and not make thoughts your aim

If you can meet with triumph and disaster

and treat those two imposters just the same

If you can bear to hear the words you've spoken

twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools

And see the things you gave your life to, broken

And stoop and build them up with worn out tools


If you can make a heap of all your winnings

and risk them all on one turn of pitch or toss

And lose and start again at your beginnings

and never breathe a word about your loss

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

to serve your turn long after they are gone

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

except the will which says to them - "Hold On"


If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue

Or walk with kings, nor lose the common touch

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you

If all men count with you, but none too much

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

with 60 seconds worth of distance run

Yours is the earth, and everything that's in it

And, which is more, you'll be a man, my son."


This is my favorite poem of all time - "If," by Rudyard Kipling - dedicated equally to each of "my three sons!" Seeing them together is one of my life's greatest joys. Loving them is one of my life's greatest expressions.

Finding peace in our struggle to "become"

"We are impatient
of being on the way to something new
and yet it is the law of all progress
that it is made
by passing through some stages of instability
and that may take a very long time.

Our ideas mature gradually -
let them flow -
let them shape themselves
without undue haste.
Don't try to force them on
as though you could be today
what time will make you tomorrow.

Only God could say
what this new spirit gradually forming within will be.
Give Him the benefit of believing
that His hand is leading you surely
through obscurity and the 'becoming'
and accept, for love of Him,
the anxiety of feeling yourself
in suspense and incomplete.

Know that your activity has to be far-reaching.
It must emanate from a heart that has suffered.
We must offer our existence to God,
who makes use,
better than we could ever anticipate,
of the struggle in which we are enveloped."

-- Pierre Teilhard de Chardin (1881-1955)


I was on the phone yesterday with a dear friend in Austin who is struggling to "become" his vision for his life and for all of humanity, like so many of us these days, and it was a deeply moving conversation, and right in the middle of it my wife came upstairs and handed me a fax she had just picked up off the fax machine. It had been sitting there since Feb. 9th. It came in while we were away, and our machine is in another room of our house, and this was the first time anyone had looked. It was the above poem, with a little note from a man I met a while ago, who I was actually introduced to by the very friend with whom I was on the phone - another amazing experience of sychronicity. Thank you, Anne, for your perfect timing, as always. Thank you, P.B., for your startling clairvoyance. And thank you, B.M.S., for so boldly standing at the bridge of your "becoming," inviting me to stand there and cross with you. This is a perfect shared struggle in which we are enveloped, worthy of our far-reaching dreams and visions, and requiring us to offer our existence up to God to get us to the other side. And for those others of you with whom I met yesterday, at your own bridge crossings, I wish you peace as you proceed.

On working with love and loving your work

"...You have been told that life is darkness,
and in your weariness you echo what
was said by the weary.
And I say that life is indeed a darkness
save when there is urge.
And all urge is blind save when there is knowledge,
And all knowledge is vain save when there is work,
And all work is empty save when there is love;
And when you work with love you bind
yourself to yourself, and to one another,
and to God.

And what is it to work with love?
It is to weave the cloth with threads drawn
from your own heart,
even as if your beloved
were to wear that cloth.
It is to build a house with affection, even as if your beloved
were to dwell in that house.
It is to sow seeds with tenderness and
reap the harvest with joy, even as if your beloved
were to eat the fruit.
It is to charge all things you fashion
with a breath of your own spirit,
And to know that all the blessed dead
are standing about you and watching. ..."

(an excerpt from "The Prophet; On Work," by Kahlil Gibran)

This is my work, my constant reaching out to you for deeper connection, to live my life like an open book, a love story at that, to make it available to others for whatever benefit might be extracted, to honor God, myself, and my fellow man, to strengthen our faith and trust in God in the midst of the chaos and pain we cause ourselves, by being a living example of the way. I love my work, which is to be a dream-weaver in the midst of our worst nightmares, to be an instrument of God's patient, steadfast, and unlimited love for humanity, which is both His greatest creation and His greatest joy. A friend of mine from India referred to what I do as "fearlessly sharing my messages/homilies/reflections/tribulations/exultations/exhortations" in a way that is "an integral part of my daily sustenance." Wow, what a great "job!"

A scream of life from Houston - I'm back!

"Don't live a life of quiet futility; live a loud and remarkable one!"

I don't know who said this; I think his name was Craig something-or-other. It doesn't really matter; it's what I want to say today. I just had the most outrageous 5 days, starting with meeting a new client/friend, J.F., last Thursday in Wilmington, DE, where we got to sit by a fireplace and get to know each other while 10 inches of snow dumped all around us. It was awesome, and I believe we will grow to be great friends some day and will look back at our meeting this way with a warm smile. I then drove up to Moorestown, NJ, where I got to hook up with my dear friend, J.P., and we took 5 of his 6 kids out in the snow to go sledding. Being with him and his kids like this was pure bliss. He's a good father, a good husband, and a good friend, and I love him. I know we will be doing amazing work together someday, but on this day we just sledded our brains out like kids. I then drove up to Newark to pick up my wife and little boy, Jake, and we drove down to Philadelphia to stay at the Marriott right next door to the Convention Center. My 20-year-old son, Mark, was seeing a concert that night with his new girl, Amy, and they stopped by to say hi late that night. I love it when Mark wants to show people off to me or me to them. In this case, I think it was a little of both, don't you agree, Amy? Then, early the next morning I did my Rocky run up the Art Museum steps, a 4-mile trek in 19 degree weather, and when I got to the top of the stairs I raised my arms and screamed at the top of my lungs how great it is to be alive. The boys came to have our favorite breakfast at the Reading Terminal Market soon after, and then we walked to Independence Mall to remind ourselves of what a great historic city Philadelphia is, and then we walked to South Street to remind ourselves what a great funky city Philly is, and we topped it off with cheesesteaks at Jim's - our favorite food in the world. It was awesome! We wheeled Jake in in his jogger, waited in a line that ran outside the door, breathing in the atmosphere and noise, then carried him upstairs to eat, and he slept through the whole thing. What cooperation! We drove up to my parents, had all of my siblings and their kids come by to visit, including Rocky, my brother Dave's new "puppy," which is some whacky Australian breed that grows to over 200 pounds when full grown! He entertained all of us quite happily - leaving all the men scarred with puppy teeth marks and blood trails all over our hands and big grins in our hearts. I told Dave, who's 11 years younger than me, that it reminded me of playing rough and tumble with him as a kid. It was a great family visit of a great family. We then drove north to Connecticut to stay at Anne' parents, where Jake got to see the second set of grandparents in two days. Anne's sister Susan's kids loved on Jake big time, especially Ben (8) and Sylvie (5), who bounced him silly on an indoor trampoline in one of the play rooms in the "big house," as Jake lovingly calls it. Jake hasn't stopped saying "bouncy, bouncy, bouncy" yet, along with "where'd ben and sivie doe?". I took a train into Manhattan in the middle of another snowstorm on Monday, where I met another dear friend, S.G., and we walked in the snow to the Carnegie Deli, where they tried to kill us with lunch meat. My pastrami, turkey, and muenster on rye was so huge I could only eat half of it, and on my way to Grand Central Station for my next meeting I gave the other half to a homeless woman who looked at me like I was feeding her family for a week. That was very possibly true. I then met another amazing new client/friend, P.B., at the Oyster Bar, where we sat and talked for three hours, the time blowing by like 5 minutes. Ah, the power of being truly present with another human being. We have plans to meet several more times over the coming months, but we'll always remember this first time. I drove back to Naugatuck in a blizzard, the wind and snow whipping through the hills on Rt. 8 heading north from the shoreline. It was breathtakingly beautiful. Anne, Jake, and I just got back home last night, drained and happily exhausted. Jake and I got our bath, and we were all in bed by 8, and soon we'll be off for our morning bagelatte. Ah, the happy rituals of a great life! I am taking this time to scream it out at the top of my lungs and to share it with all of you. Why, you might ask? Why the overblown exuberance? Because NONE of this is an entitlement that I or anyone can count on; it can all be gone tomorrow, and for the first time in my life I really know that. I had many reminders on this trip. I felt the fear in Philadelphia as we walked through Independence Mall, right by the Liberty Bell, and I looked over at my oldest son, Jim, remembering that his birthday is September 11th. I heard the fear in the tunnels underneath Grand Central Station and in Times Square. I saw it in the eyes of security teams in Newark Airport. We are in the final days or weeks before a seemingly inevitable war. There are threats of terror, violence, and war everywhere, and whether it's because of this or in spite of it, I have never been more in love with God and Life. These are the very important reminders of how precious and fragile life is, and shame on us for not remembering it more often and living and caring for each other like we really know that. With great and loud enthusiasm, I invite you to get to work on that right now. On this day, do yourself a huge favor and forget the silly, meaningless nonsense of your life - you know, the stuff that makes you crazy that you've been complaining about over and over - and simply love the great life you have.

Fatherhood rules

"My father didn't tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it."

-- Clarence Budinton Kelland

I am filled with appreciation and awe for fatherhood tonight. I just spent a weekend with my three sons, Jim, Mark, and Jake, in my hometown of Philadelphia (yes, I did the Rocky run up the Art Museum steps, as promised - and in 19 degree weather with snow all over the place, no less), where my sons were able to experience my life, past and present. I also got to see my Dad (who I really appreciate and love dearly) when we stayed with my parents last night. It was a great visit. And we're staying with my in-laws tonight, where I got to have a great chat with my father-in-law, who is a great guy who I really admire. And finally (saving the really BIG news for last), we got to announce to our families that Anne is pregnant, and we will be having another child in August. I will be a father for the 4th time, and I am so thrilled. I love both my Dads; I love all of my children (including the unborn Heather or Tyler), and I love the whole process of fatherhood. It has been a great trip.

I am sending this to you tonight while I have a moment, and then you will not hear from me again until Wednesday morning, after we get home and settled. Have a great start to your week and, if you think of it, take a few minutes to say hello and express your love to your Dad, letting him know you've been watching him throughout your life, and also to your kids, knowing that they're watching you.