Hippocrates offers raw food.  Not just raw food but alkaline raw food.  Fruit is off the menu.  No milk, eggs, fish, just lots of sprouts, some veggies, greens and juice.  Not fruit juice but wheat grass juice. No coffee, no salt, no sugar…….  I can see you all cringing.  I know I did going into this.  Giving up coffee was a bitch.  Giving up cooked food was no picnic either.  But I did it with the mantra that it was only for a week. I would think about that first cup of Starbuck’s at the airport on the way home.

A funny thing happened mid-week.  I actually liked the way I was feeling.  I wasn’t really missing any of the food I had given up.  I’ve been back two weeks and I am still eating raw.  I feel great.  Cut 50 points off my blood pressure and shed 15 pounds (I was not a tubby to begin with) and have lots of energy.  Am I going to do this forever, probably not but what it did for me was wake me up to how unconscious I was to what I was putting in my body.  I had dinner with some lawyers last week at Morton’s steak house of all places.  I had my salad, they gorged.  And gorge they did.  I noticed how unhealthy they looked.  There is part of me that hates that I am becoming that guy (you know the one who is acutely aware of how sickly everyone is looking) but there you have it.

I am not going to do a blog on health, you can that elsewhere from persons much well versed than me but I will comment on the human condition, that s what I do.  What blew me away at Hippo U was how once the focus on food dissolved people came face to face with their emotional shit.  Drowning your sorrows in a salad doesn’t seem to cut it.  I witnessed a number of people going through the emotional roller coaster.  I was pleasantly surprised to speak with 70 year old men wop acknowledged that in two short weeks they were talking about and revealing intimate secrets to strangers that they had never spoken about before.

I think another thing that drove the emotional catharsis for many was that there were no newspapers, no TV and none of the numbing g distractions most of us delve into daily.  Sure there were people there wedded to their laptops and blackberries but that was the minority.  For the most part people were there simply to support others in getting healthy.  It was not exactly on big love fest but it was close.  So here I sit, lighter, emotionally, physically and psychically.  We will see how long it lasts.  I am still committed to a good cigar though.  Some things never change.

 MDI is a 1000 plus men’s organization spread out through out North America.   It is an organization dedicated to fostering teams of men who inspire and empower one another to pursue and realize their passion. 

MDI does not actually mean anything.  As an organization we used to be known as Men’s Divisions International but everyone has come to a pretty quick agreement that that is a horrible name that doesn’t really speak to who we are.  So now we are just MDI – much like AT&T is just AT&T, not American Telephone and Telegraph, and IBM is just IBM, not International Business Machines.  We are just MDI

Of course, men being what they are some of our members still need that to mean something, so just think Mentor, Discover, Inspire.  Those three notions show up pretty much in everything we do.

We are not a monolithic organization. We do not follow one great, larger than life guru.  In part that has probably hampered our growth because people are quicker to follow someone with the “answer” rather than accepting the fact that the answer might be standing right next to them in the form of their next door neighbor.  Collective wisdom can be a hard sell but that is what we are about.  We share that collective wisdom through the process of mentoring.  We are less about teaching and more about sharing our personal experience.

In that environment of collective wisdom we get to discover something about ourselves.  Maybe it is what we are really great at.  Or what fuels our passion.  Maybe it’s about what is holding us back from attaining our goals or just being happy or it is the realization that we have this gift to share with others.

And of course once you’ve discovered your greatness you need to be inspired to give it away.  We do that through mentoring men to take on things bigger than themselves.  It is a nice little circle we have.

We inspire men to pursue a purpose larger than themselves – while we recognize that to be effective men must discover and confront their challenges and personal demons; we do not seek to devote our time focusing solely on the individual.

We empower men by providing them with the tools they need to succeed.  This can come in the form of weekend trainings or weekly courses, one on one mentoring or team inspections.  As an organization we believe that true wisdom comes not from a single source but from the diverse viewpoints of our community of men.

We pursue our passion by being in relationship with the men of our team who provide the inspection, feedback and support necessary to get the job done.  When we stumble our teammates are there to get us back on our feet, brush us off, and ensure we have learned the lessons from a set back before we get back into the game.

When we realize our passion we have a circle of men to celebrate with.  These men acknowledge our victories and the unique greatness we bring to the world and allow us to continue to carry our personal legacy forward to our families and communities.

In a nutshell, “We are unconditionally committed to men winning in their lives.”

As an organization we do not seek to define what winning means for an individual man or to dictate what passion a man should pursue.  Nor do we seek to erect the parameters of how that process even looks.

Our teams can be made up of men who meet via the telephone or who meet weekly, bi-weekly or monthly.  They can range in size from three men to more than twenty men.  Our youngest member is 18.  Our oldest is well into his 80s.  We cover the spectrum of ethnicity, political belief and vocation.  We have members who have been married for more than 50 years, who have been divorced, who are in long term committed relationships or have never been married.  Our members may be straight or gay; professional or working class.  The only requirements of membership are that you be a man of legal age, pay annual dues and adhere to our code of honor.

The code embodies the following tenets

•       Honor the truth  

•  Commitment before ego

•       Respect confidiality

•       Keep your word

•       Be a three dimensional

•       Be prepared

•       Defend humanity

•       Always be faithful to the men

•       Defend the code

•       Never engage in battles with weaker opponents

•       Fight only honorable battles

•       Earn and honor rank

•       Be humble

•       Embrace all men

•       Be an example to children

   All men are expected to strive to adhere to these tenets.

The success of our teams is measured by the following:

·         Are the men unconditionally supporting one another?

·         Are the men individually and collectively accountable to their word and commitments?

·         Are they engaged in pursuing something larger than any one man?

·         Are they bringing who they are and what they are about to the families, friends and communities?

Our men can be found throughout New England.  In New York, New jersey and Philadelphia and Atlanta.  We are all over California and in Toronto and Western Canada in places like Calgary, Vancouver and Victoria.  We are starting to bubble up in Chicago, Denver, Florida, Las Vegas, Seattle and Phoenix.  

 We are the men you have always sensed were there, we are there for you now.  Come join us.

You can find us on Facebook or at http://www.mensdivisionsinternational.com/854dir/

         While everyone is engaged in speculation over where Lebron James will ultimately wind up at the end of this NBA free-agent season, let me touch on a pretty basic premise that will ensure you are happy:  instead of wondering if there is something you are missing in your life, your relationship, or your job, take inventory of what you actually have.  Revel in the stuff that gives you pleasure and figure out how you are going to change things in your current situation that are making you unhappy.

Sounds rather simple, yes?  Yet most people pine away, fantasizing about how things would be so much better if only……. 

            If only I made more money

            If only my girlfriend was hotter

            If only my kids cleaned their room

The problem is, “if only” is a fantasy and it is not until you actually get to the grass on the other side that you can determine if it really is greener.  And even if it is greener, you might suddenly discover that it wasn’t even green grass you were interested in in the first place.

You make more money only to discover you still have nothing that stirs your passion.

Your girlfriend is incredibly hot but is lousy in bed.

Your kid cleans his room but the door to his immaculate bedroom is always closed and the two of you have no relationship.

So let me bring this back to basketball terms:  Lebron James is in the position to move to a new team.  The Knicks, Nets, Bulls, Heat and others will be making the pilgrimage to Akron to woo James with images of what could be if only he came on board.  He can win titles, be the king of marketing, and hang with the “in” crowd.   Of course none of them are touching on all the down sides – the need for fertilizer to get the grass green in the first place is never part of the conversation.  Fertilizer stinks, it smells.  Of course you would never know that unless you needed to spread it.  So from afar that green grass may look wonderful but upon closer examination you can weigh whether the odor of the fertilizer justifies the luster of the lawn.

So New York may be the media capital of the world but is that really a good thing if you want to go out for a run, walk your dog or just sit on your stoop and smoke a cigar?  Miami has the beaches and Brazilians in bikinis but it also has hurricanes, South American drug lords using it for their playground and a less than enthusiastic fan base.  Chicago is just a larger version of Cleveland but it will never be home.  And none of these cities come with a guarantee of success.  Neither does Cleveland but LeBron has been successful there.  And I submit it is easier to tinker with what you presently know to be working and discard that which isn’t then to start from scratch.

I am usually much more successful when I take stock in what I presently have and figure out what I need to change to make it suit me.  Apparently, I am not alone.  Warren Buffet who is one of the richest men in the world could probably call any place home.  Yet he continues to live in Omaha, Nebraska.  The Waltons have made it a ritual of requiring merchants to travel to Bentonville, Arkansas to pitch their wares for inclusion on the shelves of Wal-Mart.  Neither Omaha nor Bentonville is the epicenter of the financial or merchandising world but in both cases ego was trumped by the allure of knowing your neighbor and building from your strength.  Most world conquerors fail because they try to take a bridge that is just a bit too far.  Who knows what would have happened if Hitler was satisfied with Poland and Austria?

            Of course in taking inventory you might realize there are some things you just can’t change.  If you really hate snow, Minnesota is never going to be for you.  It is important to remember this in one critical area….. relationships.  Money can help you mold your environment but expecting to change another person’s DNA is just sheer folly.  So if you are in a relationship and are miserable disregard most of the above.  You are not going to change your partner.  You can however, change yourself.  But we’ll discuss that in another blog. 

I am neither a big fan of soccer nor a fan of the French but the meltdown of the French World Cup team is a great primer on what happens when you allow yourself to take things personally and lose sight of the reasons why you are there in the first place.  

As I understand it, a coach or trainer on the French team took offense to being called a “son of a bitch” by the team’s star player, the player was kicked off the team and then the team took offense to the coach siding with his staff and just refused to practice, which lead to the coach benching players in the team’s final game for voicing their opinion and taking a unified stand.  (Whether he agreed with the action or not, the coach should have given the team credit for “acting” as a team.)   Throughout the drama, coaches quit or were fired, players got benched, the president of France stepped into the fray to try to salvage things, the team eventually suffered a humiliating lose to South Africa and eventually the team plane was grounded and the French players — who were playing for the World Title in the 2006 World Cup — now had to fly home via coach with the rest of the general public.

     The only thing I get as being rational in all that is the last act.  Canceling the team plane and having the players get what it feels like to no longer be “special”.  That is a context I can get behind.  It is not a punishment but a reminder that the team was where they were because of their ability to excel, as a team.  When they stopped pursuing that; all bets were off.  If you are not going to act like a team, if you are not going to strive to be excellent, you are no different from anyone else looking to get back home from Johannesburg.  The difference between punishment and a consequence is that the latter has no context other than, “these are the rules, break them and you will be made to suffer.”  A consequence has a lesson tied to a context, it shifts the way something is heard, it provides a wake up call in the moment and a lesson that hopefully lingers long after the sting of the repercussions wears off.

     Throwing a player off the team can be either a punishment or consequence.  It all depends how it is delivered and to whom it is directed.  It is an act that affects the team, yet the team was not involved in the decision.  So they can only hear this as a punishment and react in kind.  Again, rightly or wrongly, they acted as a team by refusing to practice.  So the coach took the action not as the team taking a unite stand but he took it personally.  If the intended message was, “we need to hold mutual respect for one another” that clearly got lost in the translation.  If it was, “we are here to win” that got lost as well.  Likewise if the message was, “no one is larger than the team.”  Instead it became nothing more than a meaningless and embarrassing game of tit for tat.

 Maybe the better way to make a point was to have the offending player attend practice and sit by the sideline holding a female dog (a real bitch) on a lease while his teammates practiced and then after awhile huddle the team together and announce the player can get back into practice so long as a teammate is prepared to hold the bitch’s leash while he plays.  However, no team member can hold the leash for more than five minutes and at no time will practice stop.  The act is symbolic, has some sheer stupidity to it – which serves as a reminder of how ludicrous the situation is in the first place — and can serve as a reminder that they are a team and need to rely on each other to be successful.  Of course the team can refuse to rally behind their star which, in and of itself, is a strong and clear statement.

            Jay Leno once said, “It is hard to stay angry at someone who is making you laugh.”  Maybe this generation of Frenchmen has lost its connection to the nation’s reverence for Jerry Lewis and has forgotten how to laugh. However, the quickest way to defuse a situation that has become deeply personal is to get everyone to smile.  A good leader will recognize that if the troops refuse to see the humor in the situation or to laugh at themselves, it is time to lead by example and laugh at yourself.  It is impossible to intentionally humiliate yourself.  Acting like an idiot is not the same as being an idiot.  Acting the fool is a strategic choice to set a context that you are not bigger than the situation at hand.  Humor is the great equalizer.  Any great leader knows how and when to employ it.  Then once everyone has cracked a smile and taken a breath remind them why they are there.

This past weekend I had the honor of participating in the first Fathering Forum Weekend.  It was held in New York City.  More than 20 men came together to explore, probe, question and understand the experience of fathering.  The concept was fairly simple, Fathering is a team sport.  Even a man who is not a biological father has the opportunity to father a child or another person. Sometimes that person is one’s own father.

If  the concept of fathering one’s own father is a confusing concept, look at it this way, being a father is being an example, a provider, a role model, a source of inspiration on the front lines of life.  By that I mean it is knowing that you actions are having a direct impact on another.  It is somewhat different from grandfathering which is the process of having the same opportunity to have an impact but to do so while observing things one step removed, from the balcony so to speak. It is the difference between fully owning your choices because you know you have to live with them versus being able to tinker and noodle knowing full well you get to go home after weekend.  So in a lot of respects we are all also grandfathers because we have all had occasion to offer something knowing full well it is offered only as a gift.

Fathers get to give gifts as well but they are sometimes tangled with issues of consistency — if I respond this way today, am I prepared to respond the same each and every day?  And what if I don’t?  Fathers are also charged with the immediacy of their actions.  We tend to be hard wired to respond in the moment.  Rarely does a father have the luxury or some would say wisdom to say, “his is an interesting set of circumstances, let me dwell on it and I’ll get back to you.”

So that being said what did we do at the fathering forum this weekend? 

Like any good team we practiced.  Mostly in posing the questions we knew would eventually come up.  We were not foolish enough to attempt to answer the questions because those answers differ based on a whole slew of variables, your own personality, the personality and age of your child, the environment, etc.  So in practicing the question we hopefully were ready to react.  Much the same as a batter knows how to react to a curve ball.  No two pitches cross the plate in the exact same manner, so for a hitter to assume that every time a curve is thrown all he needs to do is swing at the same time in the same spot is just foolish.  It is the same for fathering.

The beauty of this weekend was that the men in the room varied in age from 18 to 70.  Our backgrounds were markedly distinct, as was our ethnicity, professions, education and relationship to parenting.  It is what makes a really great team.  We had our point guards; our forwards and our centers and we each respected that every man had a different way of handling the ball.  My way might not necessarily work for the next man but it was okay for him to have a chance to try my cross-over move and see how it felt.   And like any good team we had great coaches and of course we recognized that at any given time the role of coach and pupil could shift.

The final piece the weekend provided to us was a chance to get clean with our emotional baggage.  So much of what I do is driven by what was done to me.  This weekend provided the participants a chance to connect with that “what has been to me” stuff so that men were acting from their commitment rather than reacting to the past.  Men also came to begin to appreciate that their children are not necessarily “mini-me’s” so that a man who loves adventure should not assume his child would follow suit.  The key is in the listening and being able to hear where you child, either explicitly or subtly, is saying, “dad this is not for me” while also being ready to maximize those moments where your passions intersect. 

Like any good game, fathering is not easily mastered.  It can be trying and challenging.  It can be exhilarating and scary, all at the same time.  But one thing is clear it is a game that is best played and celebrated as a team.

At 53 passion is a tough thing to come by.  Between coping with MS and providing for a family, sometimes just getting through the day is an accomplishment.  But being able to find something I am passionate about is critical to that dance. And the inspiration for that passion comes from unexpected places.  Sometimes it comes from a man reminding me of the impact I had on another man, sometimes it comes from digging deep and understanding what is important to me and sometimes it is just witnessing another man getting out of his own way.

As for the empowerment that is equally important.  I mean let’s face it left to my own devices I’d just veg out in front of the TV watching Lost on Tivo over and over until I fully understood what was going on.  I was somewhat taken a back to realize that I have been getting together with a circle of men for 16 years now.  The circles have changed.  I don’t think I have stood in a circle with the same man for more than about six years.   The circles change even if men still stick around MDI we think it is important to shake things up so that no one gets too comfortable. 

 Our circles serve a simple function, relationship without the burden of friendship.  By that I mean we have this connection.  We get each other but aren’t burden by this fear that if we say something it will damage the relationship or hurt someone’s feelings.  Confidentiality is critical to what we do.  What happens in our circles stays there.  And what happens in those circles sometimes is pretty explosive.  I have often heard men tell me that they are blown away by how close men seem to get to coming to blows at a meeting and then just hug it out at the end of the meeting.  We can do that because men come to the circle without an agenda.

Except to inspire and empower one another to pursue our passions and celebrate when we actually realize them.

 On its face, the concept of ensuring that you have a strong circle of men in your life might seem basic and mundane. However, it is the nature and make up of that circle that is critical. Notice that I did not say get a strong circle of friends. I am not talking about friends and I am not talking about joining a support group. I am talking about stepping into a circle of men with whom you seem to have nothing in common but who you are confident you can trust to both watch your back and tell you all the things you really rather not hear.

If you think about it, most of your friends won’t really call you on your shit. If they do, they are opening the door for you to be honest with them. Most long term friendships have too much time invested to willingly risk the relationship at that level. That doesn’t mean it can’t happen but it is rare. The other problem is your friends probably share your interests and have a certain emotional investment in the dynamics of your life and shared relationship. So often times what you hear is really more about what is being triggered for them by the whole experience. You need to hear from a man who has nothing invested in your problem.

So why not a support group? First off, just the phrase makes me cringe. While support groups might be a great place to feel like you are not alone and get some honest feedback and an occasional slap in the face, rarely will the other members be willing to go out on a limb for you. And again if they do, it is because in saving you they are trying to save themselves. If anything, the relationship amongst the members is usually just one of talking rather than doing and the commitment is more to the process than the individual.

So, why a Rat Pack? The image of hanging around Vegas, smoking cigarettes and chasing after chorus girls is seductive but what allowed the “Rat Pack” to transcend the image of being the embodiment of the good life was in their diversity. Frank Sinatra, Sammy Davis Jr., Dean Martin, Peter Lawford and Joey Bishop. A New Jersey crooner with ties to the mob, a black man who been street dancing since he was two, a Midwestern son of immigrants, a WASP and a Jew. On paper their bond didn’t make sense but their friendship was a brotherhood built on common experiences, not common religion, race or ethnicity.

A cousin of mine, an expert in group behavior, told me about a group of men he knew in Philadelphia who played basketball on the same court every Saturday for years. They included a brain surgeon, a handyman, a school teacher, a former professional ball player, and a businessman. Playing together was so important to them that some were known to have flown across a continent in order to make the game, even if it meant flying back the next day. I can relate because I had the same dynamic with a bunch of guys I played football with for years in Central Park on Sunday mornings. I was so committed to that game that I’d show up in the rain or with a killer hang over (often times heaving between downs). It was such a “regular” part of my week that when I was getting ready to move to Colorado I had second thoughts because I thought, “what about my Sunday game?” My real concern wasn’t about missing a year of playing but wondering if it would be the same when I came back. Why? Well whether we like to acknowledge it or not, men are creatures of habit and we find comfort in the familiarity of ritual. For those men in Philly and me those weekly games became a sacred ritual. From the grunts of recognition to the post game slap on the back or for the deeply committed, post-game beer, it did not matter that for some of these men, I knew nothing more about them than their last name. (And for the record, after a year hiatus, I came back to New York. I got back into the games and was welcomed back but strangely the year off made it feel different and I didn’t feel as committed.

There is some truth to the old Cheers theme song about wanting to go somewhere “where everybody knows your name.” But as I got older, I realized that I needed more than the comfort of being “known” by name. I wanted to get to know me. To do that I needed to find an environment where men weren’t interested in either placating me or molding me into their image. I needed to find a bunch of men who on paper I had nothing in common with.
So right about now you might be asking why would I want to hang out with men with whom I have no shared interests. Well for me, I have found the joy in life not to be in striving to fit into someone else’s image of perfection. The joy is in marching to the rhythm of my own song. If it is mine, no one else can really tell me that I’ve got it all wrong. They may make suggestions on some of the moves but it is uniquely mine. The beauty of diversity in a men’s circle is if I’ve been dancing the two-step my whole life I might get smitten by watching someone else bump and grind. If someone else was trying to teach me the steps I might get self conscious and turn them off but in watching, I might be inspired to try. Which brings us back to the Rat Pack analogy. Sammy, Frank, Dean, Peter and Joey all were dancing to different rhythms but they let themselves dabble in each other’s world.

So why not be Sinatra? Well that’s a topic for another post. I just think that you never want to be the “guy”. I just never got the payoff in that. Anyone who ever watched the movie Animal House quickly came to appreciate that the guys having all the fun were not the tight assed Deltas striving to emulate the all-American male and certainly not Greg Marmalard, the president of the student body, but those guys at the end of the couch at the frat party who no one really expected anything out of. That is were the infinite possibility lies.

I’ve been away from tending to this site because I have been engaged the last few months in planning my soon to be 14 year old daughter’s coming of age ceremony.  It is a hybrid of a Bas Mitzvah, since we are essentially the only Jews in our little rural town and I have no real affinity to my religion we decided to forego the religious but maintain the ritual.  So no religious overtones but a recognition that life for her is about to change and with that were a series of rituals and speeches to celebrate that transition.  I got to give a speech and here it is; it’ll give a little flavor of what it meant to me and her.

Which brings me to the now, Orli.   Let me start by saying I originally had a 42 minute speech written, 3 minutes for each year of Orli’s life but that got nixed so here’s the abbreviated version.  The thing that surprised me is how when it came time to edit the jokes got cut, so for those of you still filling out the O questionnaires don’t hold this speech against me.  It is more heartfelt than irreverent.  But if you read the 30 minutes on the cutting room floor you’d know I am way funnier than Dorry.

It might surprise most of you to hear that I always wanted a daughter.   I know alpha males are supposed to want sons but I realized that in most father son relationships UNLESS IT IS Peyton and Archie Manning the son can’t possibly live up to the father’s expectations – Giant’s fans notice I said Peyton and not Eli Manning.  No matter what, a father always has retort of “oh that was nice but I would have done it this way”   But a daughter….. that provided unchartered territory.  And for those of you who are fathers to a daughter you understand that there really is nothing that can match the unconditional love of a daughter.   With the exception of one incident where she refused to switch the channel from the Tony’s to a sport’s game I can’t really think of any time we had a major disagreement. 

  Most parents will tell you that it is important to understand your children.  That has never been an issue for me because Orli understands me and Dorry.  She just gets it, whatever “it” is.  I think she humors me more than I humor her.   And she has always seemed totally content that we are her parents.  You already heard about the ceremony Dorry and I did before Orli was born but here’s a piece that Orli filled in for us when she was about three.  She explained that even before she was born she wanted us as her parents, so much so that as she explained it, there she was on the baby waiting line in heaven and was way down the line at that so when the time came for Dorry and me to receive a kid she had to think quickly. So she shouted “look over there. Candy.”  As the other babies in waiting turned to look, she ran to the front of the line and got us as parents and there you have it.  This came out of the mouth of a three year old which is maybe all you need to know about Orli.

Orli, is really smart.  Not just book smart but street smart which is weird because we don’t live on a street.  So I guess she is road smart.  She has an entrepreneurial spirit.   Every year she seemed to have another enterprise be it a bucket business, book business, or just developing a killer sales pitch for girl scout cookies, Orli was always thinking of the right hook to close the deal.  She is independent and creative.  She  appreciates the importance of both a well thought out March Madness Bracket and six word memoir She gets that other people’s upsets have nothing to do with her and she doesn’t need other’s approval to feel validated.  She just seems to know she is good at what she chooses to be good at.

So how did she get there?  I’d like to think it is all imprinting.  The very first thing we did after Orli was born was plunk her down on my chest and let her sleep through the night.  With the father/daughter bond intact, I went for the second thing of importance, as soon as we brought Orli home from the hospital I plunked her car seat down on the living room floor right in front of a TV playing the Knick game.  She watched the entire game without crying.  In year one, we took her to games at Madison Square Garden where she actually was breast fed at half time. Only in New York.  I’d like to think that imbued in her a love for basketball that allowed us to connect as I coached her Holland Township team into the finals four straight years.  A lot of her former teammates are here today and it was cool to watch them over achieve every year.  They were usually the youngest or shortest team in the league not always the best on paper  but they always hustled, played smart and played within themselves.  And if it weren’t for the fact that the refs really disliked me and the way I always tried to manipulate the rules they probably would have won the championship all four years instead of just one.  So we got to bond over sports, any Dads dream.

Of course I couldn’t leave well enough alone, the next critical imprint was to turn her on to Singing in the Rain and Gene Kelly and Shirley Temple Musicals.  I don’t think a day went by when me and four year Orli weren’t dancing up a storm in synch with Gene Kelley and Debbie Reynolds.  Orli loved putting on ad hoc dance recitals with Samantha for anyone who had the patience to sit through them.  This of course has lead to her love of Broadway and her trading in her sneakers for tap shoes.  Still I could relate.  At her age I would do anything for a Willie Mays or Reggie Jackson autograph.  Orli is the same with hanging at the stage door waiting for Jonathon Groff or John Stamos.

Next came working on creativity, I used to totally improvise these rambling bedtimes stories every night inserting Orli and her friends into ridiculous tales about Moose and talking ducks.  I would even tape record the stories for Orli to listen to when I was traveling.   And I would read to her from Scrambled States of America and If You Give a Pig a Pancake which even today remain two of my favorite books.  It is amazing to me that in the age of technology Orli finds so much pleasure in a good book.  She likes to chide me and Dorry that she is probably the only kid in America who gets yelled at for reading too much.  But she loves to read and create, as you already know most of today came from her. 

And then there was the seminal imprint.  When she was about seven I took her with me to check out a local sleep away camp, Camp Nockamixon that I was looking at for an offsite for my men’s group.  It was mid-summer, camp was in full swing, we drove around the camp in a golf cart and I could see how big her eyes got looking at everything that was going on.  All these kids, just being kids with no parents in sight.  She got the bug and a few years later she was off to Island Lake first for three weeks, then six, now eight and I suspect if she had a choice she would live there at least half the year.  Camp has clearly given her a sense of independence and confidence that are just icing on the cake.  And of course it has given her access to valuable life skills like improve and flying trapeze.  

We’ve been lucky in that Orli has continually been exposed to a sense of community.  Not an us and them model of community but more of a what’s mine is yours model.  Orli has been blessed by having a diverse and colorful cast of characters traipsing through her life.  Having traveled to California, Vegas, Colorado, Florida, Jamaica, Mexico and Cleveland Ohio, she’s already seen more of the world then I did when I was her age.  She’s developed a healthy competitive spirit from watching me play Risk and has morphed that into a love of games like Scattegories, Wise and Otherwise and Apples to Apples.  She’s gotten a good healthy dose of testosterone from the hundreds of men who have come to our property to partake in sweat lodges and build the road down to the river.  From Dorry’s celebrant work she has come to appreciate the importance of empathy.  And from us both she’s come to appreciate ritual, humor and generosity of spirit and the importance of community. 

We wanted to throw this celebration to bring all of you together — Orli’s camp and home friends, Dorry’s celebrants, my MDI guys, family, neighbors and friends who have been part of our lives for nearly forty years.  And we wanted to do it in a way that was uniquely Orli.  We struggled with what to call this.  Personally I was pushing to call it a Stymie.  For those of you who are unfamiliar with the Little Rascals, Stymie was the little bald kid with the top hat who seemed to have an intuitive sense of what do in every moment.   Not unlike Orli.  You couldn’t get anything past Stymie, he was wise beyond his years and had retort for everything.  I wanted to call this a Stymie for two reasons. Stymie was the name of the black collie I got as a gift from my friends for my bar mitzvah.  It was easily the best gift I have ever gotten and calling this a Stymie seemed like a nice bridge to this time in my childhood.  I’m not sure why, but there is something transitory about this age, from here on in, life is just different.  Orli will see that her choices have ramifications that she actually has some say in her future and where she goes and what she does.  Which brings me to the second reason, there is a great Little Rascals episode which ends with Stymie sitting on the back of a pick up truck and as the truck starts to leave one of the kids calls out, “Hey Stymie, where’re you going?”  And Stymie’s answer was brilliantly simple, “I don’t know but I’m on my way.”  And that my dear is what today is, no one knows where you are going or where you will wind up but you are definitely on your way.  So enjoy the ride.  I, we, are proud of you and are all excited to see where the truck winds up.  I love you.

I was watching the season premier of Curb Your Enthusiasm and Larry David in his typically brilliant way made a wonderful point.  He was visiting a friend who was bemoaning the illness of a relative.  David had the typical knee jerk reaction.  he said the expected and politically correct thing, ”I’m sorry to hear it.  If there is anything I can do let me know.”  Well it turned out his friend was able to think of something he could do and off we went into a comedy of errors.

      David bemoaned the breach of social etiquette.  After all his statement was meant to be an “empty” gesture.  His offer of help was never intended to be taken seriously let alone be taken up.  Imagine if every time you asked some one how they were they actually told you the truth.  I mean how often have you wished you could tell some one how you were really doing?   It may seem insignificant but it is like any sloppy habit.  Ask often enough “how” some one is, answer “fine” when you really aren’t and eventually you become numb to being true to yourself.  Next thing you know you are cooperating with a “don’t ask” don’t tell policy.  You start overlooking the social indiscretions of others because it is easier than rocking the boat.  You know,   things like standing silent when someone mindlessly throws some trash on the sidewalk, is being obnoxiously loud on a cell phone on the bus, or is taking up an empty seat with their coat at the movies when the only other seats are in the front row.

    The thing is all those little niceties and avoidances take their toll, in the form of road rage when some one cuts you off,  when you push the close button on the elevator rather than waiting a minute until the little old lady makes her way down the hall or worse, when you bark at your four year old who just wants five minutes of your time to show you their latest finger painting. 

       So here’s a little experiment.  Commit yourself to a day of integrity.  If you don’t really care how some one is don’t ask.  If you don’t want to be available to “do anything “someone needs, don’t offer.  If you are having a shitty day, say so when some asks “how you are.”  The key is in being indifferent to people’s response.  It doesn’t matter how peopel respond.  You do not have to live in their skin.  What is important is that you are being true to yourself. Yhat is the skin you are in.   I submit that by day’s end, you’ll feel lighter and more at peace with yourslf by being truthful even in the little things .

There really are just two kinds of relationships you have with friends.  The first is one that you continue to maintain out of some sense of obligation or inertia; you know, “but I have known him for 20 years, he was the best man at my wedding.” type relationship that feels strained.  Then there are the relationships that you don’t really seem to maintain.  They are just there.  They are with friends with whom you seem to connect with once every few years.  You are genuinely glad to see each other.  Maybe you spend some time catching up and reminiscing but you probably spend more time just ‘being”.

I submit the difference between the two is fairly simple.  It is not much different than what kills any relationship.  The passion is gone.  I have come to realize that al of my relationships have the same common denominator.  My friends are very, very passionate about life and some pet project they have sunk their teeth into.  As a result our time together is not spent gossiping or complaining but rather reveling in the things that bring us joy.

Case in point: my buddy Phil Celia is someone I have known since High school.  I love to write, Phil loves to act and sing.  Every now and then our paths cross.  Sometimes we go years without seeing each other but we continue to fuel each others passion.  

I had a chance to see Phil last weekend where he did a gig at some little mid-town cabaret in New York, the Metropolitan Room.  Phil loves singing Sinatra.  He got a great jazz trio to back him up and for an hour every now and then he gets to love into his passion.  Now no one will confuse him with the second coming of the Chairman of the Board but there is no mistaking he loves what he is doing and I get a kick out of just seeing how damn happy it makes him.  Interested in checking him out?  Go to www.artistdirect.com/artist/phil-celia/520901.

When you reduce life to that level of simplicity, it gets pretty easy.  

            I have a similar but markedly different relationship with almost all of my friends.  My friend Larry who lives out in Oregon has spent years studying to be a shaman.  We maybe get together once ever five years but the connection is instantaneous.  I don’t fully grasp everything he has been up to but I can connect to the joy it gives him.  Likewise my friend Spencer and the simple pleasure the two of get from wasting away an afternoon playing Risk.   

            Think for a moment about how much lighter your life would be if you spent your time connecting with the people who are passionately pursuing something rather than just surviving?  Now of course there is a fine line between pursuing your passion and being narcissistic.  I think the key is in figuring out how you can enroll your friend into your world.  That, of course, requires that you listen and not be so obsessed with the pursuit of your passion that you shut everyone else out.

            Some other basic rules:

·         being passionate about doing something is much easier to share than being passionate about possessing something

·         you don’t need to necessarily succeed at what you are passionate about, in fact it probably helps to be indifferent to whether or not you are any good at it

·         Notwithstanding, the point above, you need to be indifferent to constructive criticism.  Don’t be defensive when you receive it, welcome as someone’s attempt to swim in your pool. 

·         Be equally generous in giving and receiving.  No one what’s to be in a space with some one who is so single minded that the others in the room feel they can’t be heard.  The passion game is like a good tennis match the harder the serve, the crisper the return.

Life is after all just a game and we all deserve to be playing it full out.

            My parents divorced when I was 20.  I had been off in England for half the summer and had sublet my apartment in the city while I was gone.  I still have a very vivid memory of the moment my father picked me up at the airport.  I was planning on being home for a week before heading out to California for another month.  He said, “I have good news and bad news. The bad is the person you rented your apartment to move out in the middle of the month.  The good news is I have someone who is willing to rent it” I asked, “who?”  He said, “Me”.  And that was how I discovered my parents had gotten divorced while I was gone.  It was clean and simple as that.  No foreboding and dark months of parent squabbling.  My mother just woke up one morning, asked for a divorce and my Dad said, “Okay”.  They have been cordial ever since.  My Mom moved up to Amherst, Massachusetts and my dad down to Florida.  A few years later I asked my father about it and his response was rather simple.  “I would have gladly stayed married.  But (all the kids) were all grown, so if she didn’t want to be married to me, why fight it.”  I don’t think he regretted the move.  I know my mother had second thoughts.  When she made the decision it was based on what she perceived as missing, rather than taking inventory on what was there.

  I’d like to suggest that if you take expectation, obligation and guilt out of the equation, relationships would be easier to navigate.  If you are in what appears to be a dead end marriage you really need to ask yourself, “is the marriage dead or am I?”  More often than not you are the problem, not the relationship.

            A lot of forward thinking companies insist their employees go off on sabbatical at critical stages in their careers; I am of the opinion a healthy marriage would seek to do the same.  Taking tine off allows one to really appreciate what the relationship brings.  I am not advocating debauchery during the sabbatical just a break in the routine.  Every summer, Dorry and I get that break while Orli is off at camp.  I am confident it is prepping us to deal with the empty nest when she eventually moves out of the house.  Her absence won’t seem so jarring.  Dorry has many occasions to “appreciate” the void that exists when I am gone.  She’d probably say I am gone too much — this past Fall — I was on trial for two months in Kansas City — but it might explain why she keeps telling me she couldn’t imagine me not in her life.  She’s experienced the absence and knows the grass is not so green on the other side.

I had a similar experience when Dorry went off for a seven day retreat.  I hated being alone and felt like a total fish out of water when Orli came back mid-week and Dorry was still gone.  The hiatus was great for the relationship because it reminded me of all the things I took for granted. 

I’d like to suggest that scratching an itch need not be fatal.  It is important to acknowledge it as such and not to confuse the what or why behind what you are doing.  The real danger is in expecting to find something better than what you already have by looking outside of what you already know.  I am sure we have all shaken our heads over the 50 year old man who leaves his wife for a twenty year old, claiming his former wife “couldn’t satisfy him any more.”  It is only a matter of time until he realizes the twenty year old is woefully deficient in satisfying his emotional, intellectual and spiritual needs.  Sometimes an itch is just an itch and scratching it does not leave permanent damage unless you scratch too hard or too long.

Before taking that step outside, take an inventory and be clear with yourself about what you are looking for.  For my father it was easy.  Living ion Florida in close proximity to his siblings had greater appeal than living on Long Island near his kids. There is no right or wrong in the decision and no judgment.  Conversely, my mother was never clear on where she wanted to be and she has been searching and feeling unfulfilled ever since.

So the message is simple, before you go anywhere, it is best to know full well where you are.