Monday

No time for excuses

NY Day

2013 has begun and so have the promises we've made to ourselves and each other in exchange for absolution erasing sins of the year prior.
A promise. A peculiar and misunderstood covenant of which I'm not nor ever pretending to be a master or an expert. A promise is an oral contract between two parties. Sometimes the stakes are high and other times as simple as something that may be sealed with a soft kiss. When broken, the chards of glass are just as fragile and tender and don't hurt any less. The most pain inflicted when those promises are made to oneself. When you read what you promised to yourself last year and realize you failed, the words pounce off the page in mockery with the intent to shame and deepen the scars.
Last week I read what I promised myself and when I read it, my initial reaction was, 'I can do that, no problem! 2013 is a GO!' And reality smacked in like an ice bath that the covenant made was from 2012 and it would have been impossible for the person who had it in writing would have secured the ambition for this year.
The doubt crowded around me like a dark fog making it hard to breathe. I failed. I started questioning everything; my relationships, job, where I live; you name it and it was up for emotional auction and the lowest bidder was me. We all do a pretty good job beating ourselves up. In GE's world of differentiation we can talk ourselves into the bottom 10% and begin to rationalize how we can hang on by a single malt thread.
We also have the power to rise above it. So I didn't get to my goal weight by my birthday last year. I also did a million amazing things and I know without a doubt I made a difference in some people's lives. And I don't regret a single minute or a single M&M cupcake for that matter. I wondered if NYC was for me. Well I'm not finished because I have just buckled into the starting blocks.
Al Roker writes in his book that he had the gastric bypass surgery and had a 40 pound relapse. He got on the horse and rode the stallion of life with vigor vowing he will succeed. He will occasionally treat himself but uses the scale everyday to measure his success and to map out his strategy for the day. This can work in all facets of daily life and I'm embracing it.
There is no need to work as much, just a desire to work smarter and eliminate the easy time wasters - regardless of who or what they are - so we may enjoy our pleasures, budgeting time and resources from the driver's seat as it should be.
Last night I watched the firework display in Central Park and when the finale exploded into the sky with a powerful vibrancy in color, sound and excitement I watched in awe with the wonder of a child's eyes and thought, 'only in NY'. And I'm fired up!
It's ok to face your fears, where you failed. Do it. Get it out of your system. And stop kicking your ass.
Grab the wheel, hop into the driver's seat and steam into this year with gusto, passion and no regrets. Water boils at 212 degrees. Do what it takes to get that one extra degree for yourself, you deserve it!

Happy 51st

Date: November 17, 2012, 9:39:05

Today would have been Shane's 51st birthday.
For his thirtieth, his Mother Ellie had the best, most creative and meaningful gift idea. She put together a huge basket of thirty small presents, each representing every year of his life. My part - I had to take two cobalt blue water glasses (permanently on loan, like the sterling silver teapot from London) from the hotel.
A lesson I learned from Shane, among many; was about significant others. We sat in The Adam Room when he told me he was HIV positive and that when his time was nearing to part ways, he was going to go far away so we may remember him as he was and not a withering version of himself. He chose to do this with his partner, Jack. He and Jack had the same issues any couple would have and Jack was a little over protective and, well, not exactly everyone's favorite in Shane's circle. But I chose to respect Shane's decision and I can look back without regret. His last night in Boston, his last night ever in Boston, he and Jack stayed with me, Tara and Shane (the baby in this photo). It's indescribable the overwhelming emotion that I felt saying goodbye to him. He never seemed 'sick' to me and the reality hit like a stinging brick when I gave him that last hug.
One of his other birthdays I bought him a long sleeved red polo shirt from Abercrombie. This is back when they were a little more sophisticated and sold books, beautiful picnic baskets with fine china and pure wool blankets, dress shirts and ties and cologne (favorite was 'woods'). So I called him just before we were leaving to celebrate his birthday and in conversation asked how he felt about red. Of course he told me he liked the color and hated red clothing, but in a sports car it's hot. It was too late to exchange the gift that already been fastidiously wrapped at the store and signed card woven in to the presentation and there was the 'oh sh..' moment.
He opens it, taking his time through the process enjoying each tug of the ribbon and careful part of disassembling the paper, as he did with every facet of his life. Holds up this red shirt, looks at me with a wink and announced red is his new favorite color. He wore it at least once a week and my son Shane wore it for a time when it fit and it's still in the family.
The other photo was from an annual employee banquet where the five star of the year team was announced. Of the five winners, I was one of them. Later, Tara's parents said they would have paid for us to go on the trip if I didn't win so they could watch their grandson Shane and big Shane was in charge of the arrangements.
I only knew Shane for a few years when he stepped into our lives and he forever changed how I saw the world. To this day, the silver guardian angel on his baseball cap reminds me of the foreshadowing of him being that for me today. Without pause...

I'm at Barnes & Noble on Broadway and 83rd sitting in the events area. Random two and three high book piles are spattered about on the beige metal vinyl cushioned chairs  telling their own story. My former tenant was reading 'Dance of Death' where she wanted it all and not even murder would stop her. The other two choices, more calculating and bloody; the 'how to's I surmise, were, 'The Butcher - Anatomy of a Psychopath' and 'Body Parts' which include the killer's gruesome confession.  So where the fuck is this person and should I continue seeking a rental in this area? Based on my nimble yet otherwise thought provoking choices of 'Thoughts Without Cigarettes' and 'This Boy's Life', both innocent, humorous introspections on coming of age, I may want to consider Hell's Kitchen or a walk up in the upper east side.

Madonna at 53 has released a new album, MDNA which is remarkable how she has also taken some sorrow and will turn it into platinum. Regardless of her motivation, she speaks for everyone with a voluminous unedited voice which, like it or not, she inspires by being a voice for those who benefit from her unabashed reality art. Twenty one years ago my best friend Shane stood beside me at my wedding and there is a photo of him walking with Tara across the grounds, ever so graceful; her in her Priscilla of Boston gentle blush wedding gown and he in his custom fitted black tuxedo, effortlessly carrying her train crossing the pristine greens of the golf course never once pausing in their conversation. I met him when Madonna was somewhere between Borderline and Blond Ambition voguing through The Ritz-Carlton, Boston. I just watched http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pvT6-U4SZP8Capote, the 2005 film that takes us through his torturous writing journey of In Cold Blood and when Shane was still alive, many thought he resembled Truman Capote in looks, stature and mild eccentricity and all of this illuminated wonderful bright memories of Shane. He is a lot more Breakfast at Tiffany's rather than In Cold Blood. Complete with his clear plastic eyeglass frames nearly an exact replica of Capote's frames.
I started working at The Ritz-Carlton, Boston on April 6, 1989. I walked by it a few times, imagined its luxurious history and wondered what it took to be a part of it. One winter night, I got all dressed up to the nines. Polished black wing-tip shoes, navy pin stripped suit with a crisp white shirt and red paisley tie; my navy cashmere coat and silk scarf. I walked into the lobby like I owned it. The sweet smell of white Lily's took over, the opulence of gold leaf on the ceiling, the fine tapestries, elegantly dressed men and ladies in sequins and heels sipping champagne and cordials in the smokey bar, the line spilling into the lobby for the Cafe. Music from all rooms gently tapping on the Chippendale furnishings and aromatics of fine French parfums glistening from the ladies slender, graceful wrists. I boldly walked up to the very busy maitre d' in the cafe and asked if they were hiring. He graciously told me that personnel is closed right now and I would need to return during business hours Monday through Friday. As he hefted a pile of full length sables and minks to the coat room across the hall, I introduced myself and let him know he would see me next week. I didn't want to miss the opportunity to be remembered.
I was marrying someone outside of my class and I knew it. I come from moderate means and personally worked my way through school with two full time jobs each summer and full time work through the school year. My bride to be went to school in London for a semester and parents paid for her undergraduate and at this time, her graduate education. She nor her loving family ever made me feel anything but exactly what I was - a loved part of the family. But I knew I wanted to contribute in some big way and that what led me to take a day off from my full time job with Blue Cross and Blue Shield and dedicate time to find a part time position to put together money for the wedding and honeymoon.
As instructed, I walked to the hotel and found the personnel office. While on Newbury Street, I had 'Puttin' on The Ritz' playing at full volume in my head with a little kick in my step. I saw a pigeon, and I am not a big fan of pigeons, waltzing across the pristine sidewalk who had a similar kick in their step, as if he in his multi-colored iridescent feathers, he was sporting black tails, white diamond weave tuxedo shirt and a little cane tucked under one wing and in a slight move bending to one side, a silk top hat tipped in his other wing.
The personnel office had the old steel desks, filing cabinets, threadbare carpet outlining the traffic patterns and a pleasant, sterile scent topped off with a commingling of colognes. A slight woman with a wide smile and sincerely warm demeanor greeted me with a 'Good Morning, how may assist you?' and I asked if there was any part time positions available. She let me know they do not hire part time people and offered an application anyways. I filled it out and handed it to her and she asked if I had a resume and I gave it to her. We had a casual conversation and she thanked me for coming, stood up, shook my hand, letting me know her name was Lori and someone would be contacting me sometime this week. Years later, when I ended up in the 'personnel' office, later to be referred to as human resources, I read on the old paper application that she had written, 'Nice Smile, Very Friendly, we need to find something for him.' Later that week, Susan called me and I became a part time server in The Tea Lounge on the second floor across from The Dining Room. The Tea Lounge was officially titled The Lounge, everyone called it the tea lounge. And in both cases, the names were nothing that would catch an ordinary person's intrigue, the elegant lettering at the foot of the grand staircase of each entrance  led you to believe in its naming simplicity awaits a lifetime of dreams.
I met Conrad as my trainer. Flamboyant, fast moving, pale complected arrogant young man who made every attempt to make me and those around him feel small. He buzzed around, showing me where things were, cleaning up from the tea service and transporting the day set to the evening set and speaking so awkwardly proper it made me feel anxious for him, not for me, and perspiring at the same pace and harried manner in his inability to prioritize and stick to task. Picking up my new responsibilities was likened to calculating the wave pattern of an approaching hurricane at high tide. Thursday night was Tea Dance from 5:30pm - 8:30pm and this is the night I trained with him. We dress the cabaret tables in the adjoining French and Adam room in pristine white linen, soft pink glass candle holders, dust them with rose petals and randomly place Ritz-Carlton dance cards at each setting. Then the sign, The Tea Dance ensconced in an ornate gold frame and an original tea menu cover titled, 'le thé' with a beautiful woman in a full length floral dress sitting in the garden, was placed on a brass easel in The Lounge at the entrance of The French Room to welcome guests. Soon, Al Vega and his band mates assembled at the end of the room at the dance floor and were ready to play waltzes, rhumbas and whatever made the ladies twirl and men swoon while they sipped thier libations and washed away the day.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-_vCeQ-rx5A&feature=related

This April on the 6th will be my 21st wedding anniversary and Sara was our wedding song. 21 years ago she stood at the top of the chapel stairs, who was ethereally beautiful, gracious and enchanting in her way. I will always love her, no matter what and not a day goes by I am humbled by her genuine love for all who enter into her life. An optimist who never waivers and when a last chance has passed, she finds it in her heart to lend one additional. And each of these passing days I struggle in pain. The pain I had caused. I know she has forgiven me, I however will not. 

I was thinking the other day about love and the battle between the mind and the heart. Who wins? Who loses? I have been in and know of many who have been in relationships, marriages, partnerships with the loves of their lives and the heart seems to extend its delicate, powerful tendrils to the one that may be even a truer love, or a soul mate. Our mind tugs on those tendrils and whispers the reasons why we shouldn’t.

The heart seems to know otherwise and the truth is the big question. 

I remember meeting someone many years ago. He was young, beautiful, and intelligent and in my own bottled up truth, we spent the night talking. His parents were missionaries; he of Cuban and American Indian decent shared with me the music he wrote and performed; his passion for playing pool; his love of country music and bigger fellows. He also shared with me the love of his life. Each time one was ready for the other, distance or another lover seemed to be in the way. I looked up at the stars in the moonlit sky as we passed the Jackie Gleason theatre in South Beach and I thought about how unfair it was that she was in a relationship that was not whole. She deserves to be loved and to love - all the way and not with someone who was not really there. For me, I wondered what if I fell in love? How would all of this work? I made a decision that night that the truth, for whatever it was worth along with its wrenching pain, must be told.

So I did. 

A week or so after that night, I went for a walk and I told her. They say the truth sets you free. I am puzzled at how freedom aches. Still, after all these years.

I write this leaving plenty out, wondering if its too soon, if its too risky, if its a bit raw and unfair.

I believe there are so many beautiful people in the world, in my world, that have shared their joy, their pain, their laughter love and many things I would not dare write publicly. Secret loves, secret lives great pleasures glazed with internal strife in wonder.

If I can open a small door on my own life perhaps it could help some young person who is afraid to be his or her true self and reach out. Or an older friend, one my age step out to the end of life's diving board, bounce really high, do a back flip in the air and twist around in the sea of love.

Don't deny yourself pleasure and do it with integrity and abandonment.

The New Yorker

Short Stories From The New Yorker, 1940. A collection of short stories was sitting proudly on the bookshelf among the other relics but stood a little taller, a little wiser and with a dash of attitude and whisper of fine brandy and vintage cigar. I spied this treasure while visiting a dear family friend for her birthday and commented on quite a few of the books on her shelf and made special note of this one. My mind conversed in full and decided sometime in the early winter we would treat ourselves to first the hunt for it on eBay, the anticipation of its arrival and the night reserved to enjoy it with brandy and a cigar.

This past very short week came with long, willowy and very weathered legs. Demands of the day were mentally, physically and emotionally draining and the legs strode heavily to complete each of the four days. By Friday, a sensation of a hangover set in without the joy and exhilaration of Belvedere, Edna Valley Cabernet or even a cheap shot. Just good old fashioned wiped out exhaustion. Oddly, as that fourth and final day of the week ticked on at times too slowly and others at a speed of which I wished to restrain, I avoided leaving not because I loathed retreat, rather, the three block walk home toiled in daunt. I arm wrestled my mind to push its stubborn body below to get moving and outside, the crisp pre-autumn air presented a spa-like flavor to the trek.

Greeted by the friendly door staff, up the elevator to an empty apartment. Melancholy, peace and emptiness were the houseguests by whom I was greeted, together and at once raising their voices to win my attention. Only one bill on the table, no other mail. On the buffet sat a slightly crushed box about the size of a large toaster oven and the personality of a bored introvert nestled at this cocktail free cocktail party. Its corners sealed in UPS brown tape, double and triple runs and looking particularly unfamiliar. Although strange as it was nothing I ordered, was not a holiday and certainly nothing I expected. The strangeness was complimented by its address label's familiar, friendly handwriting.

I broke the seal fastidiously, slitting the brown packing tape with house keys still in hand with childlike enthusiasm and adult precision. Green tissue paper and bubble wrap protected the precious insides.

Card One

The sender's original address crossed through and updated to a current address.

The date 2009.

A young girl's print read, 'Lulu told me it's your birthday. My name is Sierra.'

This young girl letting someone she met only twice in her life know his legacy has been told like an ancient folk tale in Mark Twain prose at the dinner table, in between sips of tea and on commercial breaks about how special he is. And in her delicate innocence, realized I need to love him too!

A birthday card vacuum packed to reveal the preserved wish years later the way the steam of freshly brewed coffee stirring as morning's gentle alarm.

Card Two

A multi-layered paper flower so real, I buried my nose in it to inhale the spring wish it was intended to carry; to brighten up this end of summer day. The beauty of its non scent was I made up my own and had the luxury of letting start out as peony, turned to lilac and finish a lilac rose - an everlasting gobstopper of scented imagery.

Striped paper meticulously held a book like a newborn.

And finally, a promise.

To my dear friend to someday be published in this book's sequel.

http://www.newyorker.com/fiction

Sapphire

By chance, I picked up Time Out NY and found that Sapphire, the author of PUSH (the novel that inspired PRECIOUS, the movie) was going to be at the Union Square Barnes & Nobles at 7pm. I loved the book and saw the movie a few times. The book tells the story seen in the movie but what's very different in the book; the reader feels the underbelly in a way that is impossible to translate to the screen. Sapphire is a descriptive, from the gut storyteller and whether or not you want to feel, you feel.

This evening at Barnes & Nobles, she was joined by journalist Katherine Lanpher who prepared an outline of questions; some of which tickled the surface, some which evoked a bit of predictable sarcasm from the author and the deeper, soul reaching questions that prompted seat lifting enthusiasm by Sapphire resonating through the walls and our seats.

The Kid is her second novel and is aptly titled for Precious' son Abdul Jones who we see come into this world in the novel PUSH and movie PRECIOUS joining his sister, Mongo, her fist child from her own father who suffers from Down's Syndrome.  The conversation through the hour together takes us through the writing process. Sapphire made it clear this not 'Precious 2' or any type of sequel, rather a story of survival and how her son gets through Precious' death and growing up as a black child and into a man.

Sapphire tells her plight for this novel and references white males, gay white males with money, who are able to survive HIV and AIDS better because of the money and focus driven toward them. She questions whether or not Precious would have had a better chance or may still be alive if she were a white male. There are statistics, I am sure, that back this up and I am relatively certain Sapphire can reference them with little notice.

I was sitting there listening to her and thinking about my friend Shane. White, male, gay, Shane who has been dead for many years. Death has not yet learned to decipher social consciousness nor the struggle between impoverished and wealth, race, gender or sexual preference. When Death's big hand strikes it only tells time.

Sapphire was also joined by Imani Uzuri, a singer/songwriter who recently released her second album fully funded by her fans - that's how terrific she is! Her voice is one that reaches in, wraps around you, pulls back and dances to the heavens! She was with a guitarist who complemented her deep lows, melodic mid notes and her heavenly sopranos and she often made you forget you were on the fourth floor of an old building and brought you to that gentle space above the clouds floating on her joyful falsettos. A rare and wonderful treat.

Toward the end, an extremely talented, dark skinned male dancer from the Dance Theater of Harlem took the stage and with his muscular, willowy fluid movements, he wove the music and made it his own in beautiful motion. The best way to describe his dancing is if you could take poetry and watch it move - it is what he did.

I was third in line for my book signing and I thanked Sapphire for her moving first novel, PUSH and for sharing her poignant and raw honesty with all of us this evening. She thanked me for being with her, for buying her book and I said I am very much looking forward to reading it!

I slowly walked away, looked at the crowd in line awaiting Sapphire's touch and thinking that all of us are survivors in one way or another. Sapphire talked about how some people read her book and others, the ones who could not bear the book, saw the movie.

Precious is real. She is on the subway, in the grocery store, in bed with a man she hopes will take her dream and flick the on switch; she is a student, a teacher, a writer, a parent; the person we may pass on the street and judge and yet, the person who may pass us and judge; she is a song, a dance, a mystery and very much a warrior - an inner Precious in all of us!

Afterward, I went to Blue Water Grill and a lovely woman greeted me at the door. A medium skinned black lady, young, full of life, a smile that made the votives look dull, her hair pulled back in a headband poofed up in the back, a navy blue sun dress splashed with white flowers covered with a soft, white cotton and linen sweater takes a menu and asks me to follow her. She is the person who is at the door and says FUN - an invitation to a magical dinner, maybe just a drink or a coffee - but for whatever reason you are there, she has set the station to high energy! 

As we walked to the table, she saw the book in my hand and told me how lucky I was. To have a book, a table, a night to myself to read and enjoy. She declined, but I did offer the other chair at my table. I told her about my time with Sapphire, the dancer, the singer and she said that I was living her dream.

What she didn't know was how much she influenced my night simply by reminding me of the simple gift of gratitude. I was most grateful for her and the tremendous artists who paint the landscape of our imaginations every day.

I read the first chapter of The Kid and without pause - I highly recommend it! Be a warrior!

!http://www.unionsquarenyc.org/explore/events/2034-upstairs-the-square-sapphire-barnes-noble

The oldest profession

I took the morning and drank it in slowly. Watched the last few episodes of season 5 of Sex and The City, had a healthy breakfast, coffee, read emails and 4th of July posts on Facebook and took little naps in between.
Later in the afternoon I went to get my haircut on the East side and back to Columbus Circle for a good work out before I went to work. The elliptical and I spent some painful, quality time together clearly communicating to my ticker that we have a lot ahead of us - and that is why we are here. Did some leg work, hit the showers and out to the Circle.
I was innocently minding my own business, in average summer attire with dark sunglasses, black shorts, high tops and a plain grey t-shirt with my black gym bag in tow.
This lovely woman starts walking along side me. She has seen the ascent hillside of her 60's and headed to the middle ground, has worked hard on maintaining her beauty as she had few wrinkles, had princess pink lipstick, perfect teeth, dusty blond hair pulled straight and laced with pin curls, a long, lean, willowy figure and was wearing a pink quarter sleeve blouse, white slacks, pink pumps topped off with a warm, pleasant smile.
She asked me if I was visiting NY and I said no, that I lived here. She said she did too right on 57th and 9th and asked if I worked nearby and I said yes. She asked where and I told her right around the corner and I was headed there. She asked if I had a management position and I said I did. She asked if I ever wanted to come over, she reminded me of her location and that it was easy to get to and she had a 4th floor walk up. I said that was very kind of her to offer. She asked if I like to get ....
Well she asked me some specific sexual questions and by the look of horror on my face she promptly asked if I was married. It was not that I was opposed to the questioning but in shock that this kind of thing happens in broad daylight in this manner surrounded by visiting families..
She may want to rush in where angels fear to tread, but in this case I was shocked.
I let her know my own little dirty secret - as much as I appreciate the offer, I am gay.
So we parted ways and it has left me with a lot to think about.
I was a little sad because I thought of my grandmothers, mother, friend's mothers and grandmothers and wondered how do you get to this point? Do we blame Republicans? Social Security mis-management, melted 401k plans, employers expeditious departures from pensions, high-jacked welfare system or just plain old poor planning for our twilight years?
After that exhaustive pondering, it occurred to me that this gal still has it!
God bless her and her pink lips!

 

Erwin

I first met Erwin when I was a banquet server and he was the newly appointed food & beverage director at The Ritz-Carlton, Boston. I remember walking into his office on the third floor back in the corner and he was not there. Of course, I could not resist the temptation to walk in and sniff around to see what the new guy was all about.
What I quickly discovered was that he was by far the neatest, cleanest senior leader with whom I have ever encountered and I thought, this old girl (the hotel, not me - I was young and thin back then) is in for some scrubbing! But it was refreshing to have someone concerned about the cleanliness which is very reflective of the service our guests would come to expect.
As the departmental trainer with my dear friend Shane; Erwin was very supportive and drove training and he challenged us to train the other banquet servers on a la carte service. So we did and it was hard considering Tito, Tri Do and some of the others; who we all loved but steak Diane and filleting Dover Sole table-side wasn't everyone's expertise!
Erwin moved on to his next adventure and left the food & beverage operation a better place. Cleaner too!
A few years later Boston was bursting at the seams and needed a second Ritz-Carlton so our sexy, younger sister Boston Common was born under the careful watch and acute detail of Erwin.
At this juncture, I had moved on in my career and opened the hotel as Director of Training & Development and it was a pleasure working with Erwin again and in this new capacity. He has always been a big supporter of human resources and especially training; ensuring i's were dotted (twice, just in case) and t's crossed. Karen Kane was the opening director of HR and I remember this specific day as vividly as if it happened a half hour ago.
The somewhat sceptical Millennium Partners leadership team invited us to share our Ritz-Carlton training and we offered to come to their offices at the Residences. We offered to bring the coffee, muffins, donuts, etc. from Dunkin Donuts as only Karen Kane would have it. Karen and I agree to meet at the 'old girl' and trek over to Dunkin Donuts on the corner of Tremont and Boylston so we can walk over to the MP offices for the presentation. What we did not count on was the torrential downpour, 'summer showers' that left us soaking wet, drowned wash women. We are running in, dripping wet from the core of our beings, setting up and trying to be as composed as possible in light of our weathered state. And in comes Erwin. Pristine, bone dry, not a hair out of place, not a speck of dust on his mirrored glass polished shoes. I looked up wondering where the helicopter landed to drop him off in this condition.
9/11 gave us the bottom low to a very exciting high just days before when Erwin, the proud parent, joined the VIP's cutting the ribbon to warmly welcome The Ritz-Carlton, Boston Common to our fair city. After 14 years of my time in Boston, I moved on to New Orleans and I will not soon forget Erwin's heartwarming gratitude and farewell to me remembering most my genuine smile. It is easy for me to smile because I loved the company and the reason had nothing to do with the cobalt blue, the lion's head or the 400 thread count sheets; rather the people who took the philosophy, the CREDO off the page and brought it to life. It was Erwin who taught me not just the words of the CREDO early in my career, but what it meant by his actions every day, every time.
As the good fortune of fate would have, both Erwin and I returned to Boston; he to The Ritz-Carlton and me to The Boston Park Plaza. The Park had an identity crisis in terms of brand and positioning and the GM, EC rallied together to align, focus and come up with a compass to move us in the right direction. Erwin graciously offered a magnificent meeting space for us and, no surprise, world class, impeccable service as we came together for a two day EC planning meeting. Knowing Erwin was quoted in the Gold Standard book, I thought what better nuance to add to my presentation on brand but to have him present to the group. It is always a little risky going from one hotel company to another and not over-selling your past passion but I thought I don't know ANY other hotel company or person who drives brand with more vigor or passion than Ritz-Carlton and Erwin himself.
He agreed to meet with us and present to the team. He only had a segment of time of which he went over nearly double - hard to bottle up that passion and limit it to a specified time! After he left, the EC team of The Boston Park Plaza was ignited and our story began with not just a new chapter, rather, a new book! Stuart Meyerson, our GM, said to us, 'Whatever we decide on how our branding will unroll, we ALL need to deliver it with that level of sincerity and PASSION!'
Erwin will be missed and ever remembered with a smile (and a dust pan!) and something tells me our paths will path again with much joy.
Thank you for including me in this! All the best and much success to you Erwin and thank you for all you have done.

18

This Friday, June 10, 2011 my son Shane turns 18. Before he was born, I started writing him a book. It is in a beautiful leather bound note book with and angel on the cover, his guardian angel. On the inside cover I quoted 2Timothy 1 6 7 ...Stir into flame the gift of God which is within you... for the spirit that God gave us...One to inspire strength, love and self-discipline... is an inspirational, spiritual excerpt that touched my life a long time ago. I wrote it down on a piece of paper many years ago and have kept it with me. Very few have ever seen it from me.
Dear Shane,
Before you were born, I promised myself I would write a book to you. Not necessarily a book with distinct chapters nor any real format, but one to document feelings and experiences so I can share them with you. When I first thought of the idea, I decided to present this book to you on or around your 18th birthday. There is a lot I still don't understand, but your existence has made me incredibly wise.
Next Friday is your first birthday, so this leaves me seventeen years to finish this - I'll do my best. I frist started this in a notebook that has been falling apart. I think this book is better equipped to stand the test of time.
Anyway - you haven't even been born yet so I better get crackin'! I started the book in early November at a small cafe in Beacon Hill called Rebecca's located on Charles Street in the old meeting house. I actually was working for Rebecca (an amazingly talented chef!) when your mom and I found out you were coming. It was a catering job at an old library in Beacon Hill (The Boston Athenæum, a membership library, first opened its doors in 1807, and its rich history as a library and cultural institution has been well documented in the annals of Boston’s cultural life. Today we remain a vibrant and active institution that serves a wide variety of members and scholars) Your mom was working on her masters degree at Northeastern and was scheduled for a class. But her mother's instinct kicked in and she had a feeling she was pregnant. Ideally, she would have wanted both of us there when she took the test and make a big dinner, have some wine and make it a celebration! But she did it on her own and tracked me down at work. She called Rebecca's hysterically because she expected the test to be negative and it was positive. Positively wonderful!

Be good to yourself

I have just celebrated my 46th birthday and being just 4 short years away from my 50th, I realize that there are many things that I have delayed for one reason or another. I will not deny I am a bit of a procrastinator, I get a twisted thrill from the energy and adrenaline you get from putting it together under pressure. In addition to the aging process, I have also gained a bit of weight of which I am not proud. I have returned to a city where I spent most of my adult life for 3 years and did not see old friends or family because of my weight. I have lived in NYC now for nearly a year and felt like I did not deserve to shop or enjoy certain things because of it.
Well I, and I am certain I am not alone, have come to my senses and know that I am in full control of this self-defacing crippling approach to this great thing called life. My life.
Why do we feel like we don't deserve happiness? While in the moments or cycles of despair, we wish ourselves out of it and wonder through the eclipse of unhappiness why did this happen to me? And yet, when the emotional sun casts its brilliance on us, we feel unworthy of it. God knows we have suffered.
A dear friend called me a week before my birthday and asked what I wanted. I know she has limited means and her generosity usurps her bank balance. I told her to save her money, send a nice card and come to NY and lets spend some time together. I would rather hang out, walk the city, see the park, people watch, sip great wine, try a different place for dinner with her than have her spend money on either a gift card or things that I can buy myself. I enjoy the thought behind gifts and the things I possess all tell a story. A time, a place or a person that brings back all the feelings each time I look at it but in this case, when you at one time spent every day together and miles preclude you from that time, I put more value on the time creating the memory. So she did.
We had a great dinner on night one, great wine, a lot of laughs and watched movies until the wee hours. The next morning we flopped around, napping and watching tv, snacking and of course, talking and laughing and charting our course for our careers and lives. We have all solved the world in the confines of our homes with our friends knowing that if everyone saw things our way, the world would be a better place. And for that moment, it is. We finally got out after 4pm for some pampering, lunch at a French bistro and shopping. I had two nice pairs of sunglasses in my life for many years and one broke and the other I lost a year ago and decided it was time to treat myself. Each of us has something or a handful of things that make us feel good and I found the perfect replacement, a pair of Armani sunglasses. It is a silly thing in the scheme of world peace, literacy and hunger but it was an indulgence that to the naked eye was a pair of over priced sunglasses.
For me, it was being good to myself to say I deserve them.
After Katrina, a friend of mine who has now become a very dear friend, was at The Ritz-Carlton, South Beach at the same time I was. We had a very teary eyed, wrap your arms all the way around embrace that neither wanted to let air take over. We started to talk about our personal experiences and she held her breath and became very emotional because she missed her collection of pocket books. Like all of us, we have the things that make us feel good and our indulgences and hers was the pocket book. She felt very sad about losing everything but that really struck her. She told me how each one was a very special gift that was significant because it either represented a milestone, a sister, a lover, her Mom and she felt so guilty about feeling so badly about losing her pocket books. I told her I just saw another friend of ours and she had left everything behind except one suitcase - filled with photographs. What you miss is not the Prada, Gucci or Fendi, rather the moments in your life that the people who cared so much about you came to life in each of those gifts and not to feel guilty.
My point is - live now. Don't wait. If you like designer jeans and are a little curvier than you would like to be now, buy them now. If you want a good book but want to wait for the soft cover, get it now; one of the bookstores or Amazon always have a little discount. For me, I am walking around in my killer sunglasses with my fat jeans living life today. The way it should be.

Perseverance

What is perseverance?

• Perseverance is commitment, hard work, patience, endurance.

• Perseverance is being able to bear difficulties calmly and without complaint.

• Perseverance is trying again and again.

You show perseverance when you ...

• Give up your tv time to spend hours studying

• Try a new sport that is very difficult but you don't give up

• Have a learning disability but keep studying even when discouraged

• Come from a home where there is fighting and unhappiness but you still try your best

• Have missed a week of school but you work hard to catch up

• Are at the end of a difficult race but you cross the finish line

• Save money and make sacrifices to buy something

• Spend hours practicing on your music

• Study and work hard to raise your grade

• Try out for something you weren't successful at the first time

Feel energetic and optimistic! You can do anything you set your mind to! This positive outlook is and it's certainly easier to go through life happy. People choose whether or not they're going to be happy. Make the right choice and you're bound to be successful once you believe you can be.

I believe you have the power to elicit a response from another simply by taking the positive approach.

Leadership I have a few simple guidelines for myself - people are motivated by either fear or desire. With desire, they will want to be successful and will have your back.

Love them; they will love you back!

Donate Life

Eleven years ago today I went to Mass General Hospital to be tested and determine whether or not I was a match to donate one of my kidneys to a very dear friend.
I attended an all employee event at our hotel at the time and my friend and colleague brought her beautiful daughter as her guest. We ate, had wine, lots of laughs and a few twirls on the dance floor and it was a spectacular night and was sometime in March with a springtime theme. The next day, I went to see my friend whom I have have known now for over 22 years and asked her about her daughter. I had known something was wrong health wise but not sure of the details.
She told me her daughter was fine, she was feeling well and that her kidneys were functioning at 15%. I, not knowing much about what that really meant or what options were available, asked. She told me that she is on a list and they are waiting for a cadaver.
I'm no mathematician but I knew that 15% was low and in my mind, time was running out and not working in our favor.
I said I wanted to be tested and she told me no, we will be fine, she can go on dialysis if we don't find a match and it will all be ok. I told her she had two choices. Either she calls her right now or I find the number and hunt her down myself. Reluctantly she dialed. I worked with her daughter, she came with me to the hospital and did all the necessary tests, which were easy.
Shortly thereafter we found out that three out of six of our antigens were a perfect match. I have no idea what an antigen is but I was delighted to find that I have them and they are in good shape and match my friends. For those of you into science:

An antigen is any substance that causes your immune system to produce antibodies against it. An antigen may be a foreign substance from the environment such as chemicals, bacteria, viruses, or pollen. An antigen may also be formed within the body, as with bacterial toxins or tissue cells.

Besides our blood types being compatible, based on the above (11 years later I am discovering this) it seems as though the likelihood of rejection would be minimal. If this was a two part harmony, we could take this live with a little piano and acoustic guitar.

Deep inside my soul, I felt I could do something so special, so relevant for someone and really help her in a way no one else could and in a way I have never been able to helps someone before. This would be intense and before I had time to digest my own feelings, I had to think of my wife and two sons and the rest of the family. My elation was subject to mild turbulence.

The whirlwind to follow involved every imaginable test including all types of blood work, a three dimensional CT scan, (48) hour urine samples (yes, the cooler in my office was not very popular). I was able to see all of my insides on a computer which is pretty cool, fascinating really. It makes you re-think a cookie or extra butter because there in plain lcd illumination is layers of fatty tissue. Why does frosting look so much more appealing on a cupcake rather than the 'cushion' around your liver? I had work to do this spring and early summer to harvest my organ for my friend!

We met with many doctors. Although I am intentionally leaving out names, I will mention one - Dr. Ko. He was my doctor - the taker! He is a terrific person, very bright, down to earth, great sense of humor and can explain the most finite medical procedures and deliver them in ones own language. We had a 'family' meeting and I thought it would be more like a picnic. There was no barbecue, no potato salad, no green jello ambrosia and not a frisbee in sight. We were in an OR lit for surgery with transplant nurses, specialists, her doctor, her mom, her, me, my wife, a not so witty psychologist and we sat in a big circle. There were questions ricocheting around and I was relatively numb as the seriousness was setting in. My wife was trembling throughout the meeting and I knew that we needed to get into the layers before the big day. But I will never forget my friend at this meeting.

There she was. At the head of the circle. The one who was in need, sitting tall, composed, long brown hair knowing at center stage she had to make sure, in light of all of these specialists, that everyone kept in check. And her brave soul responded to the questions with ease and said to the group, 'I am going to be ok, I am not sick, We will all be fine.' I looked at her in awe and thought to myself, as well as I know her, she never passes up a chance to take my breath away. Even in her time of angst she sat there braver than anyone of us!

My wife and I went to see the transplant shrink after this meeting. As much as we spoke about it, something was wrong. I felt resentful because I could not be scared myself. I had to put the armor on and be strong for everyone else which is fine - I am comfortable there. But for a moment, I needed to have someone on which to lean. The doctor told us this story about a man, a racist white man who was a member of the KKK and outright nasty to anyone who was not like him. He said this guy was in n-stage renal failure and in desperate need of a kidney. Even with dialysis, nothing removes toxins and does the job of a kidney. He was jaundice, felt weak, face sallow, hunched over and always felt like his head was between a migraine and pure fog. Well, good news came. There was a cadaver and he was a perfect match. They wheeled his sorry white ass up to the OR and performed the transplant. The next day, the doctor came to see him and asked how he felt. Even though it is major surgery, the recipient of the new kidney starts to feel great right away. So he told the doctor about how for the first time in how long he cannot even remember, he could feel his skin, he had color in his face and could think clearly. He asked the doctor about the surgery and from whom the kidney came. The doctor said that usually he would not reveal any of this, but knowing him, he let him know it was from a black man.

It occurred to him that for his entire miserable life, he had hated an entire class of people based on the color of their skin. He did not know any black people personally, he has hated them outwardly and in private. He made it a part of his life to take action against blacks. And here he sits in a hospital bed feeling better than he has in years. As he held his head sobbing in repose, it resonated with vivid color that it is what's inside of us that is most important!

This is only chapter one of this entire journey. Today needed special attention for my dear, sweet, beautiful friend. I love you and your Mother with all my heart and thank God for you both for making me a better person! Hugs and Kisses, Tim

This past week I really listened to Pink's 'Glitter In the Air' and realized that in light of her acrobatic performances, it is a beautiful song that can mean so much to so many.

It has become a fast friend and confidant during a fragile time on so many levels and tonight I was going to go to the gym and do my own thing. Instead, the line, 'Have you ever held your breath and asked yourself, will it ever get better than tonight?'.

I forfeited my original plan and wondered what is it that I do to have someone think that about me? We expect so much from others - our lovers, our children, our friends, parents siblings and all those in our lives and as much as we think we give to them, have you ever wondered what they think of us? Do we give them the lyrics to a song; the words to a poem; the smell of spring in the park? Would it be so terrible if I woke up at 4:30am and did double time and give that tonight? So I did.

I sent a brief message on facebook and received great comments from friends new and from my past and hope that I was able to give a little back to whomever I could. This photo of these delicate blue and yellow flowers at the break of dusk in this huge park in the middle of this magnificent city tells so much. To pause in the middle of our craziness to breathe with our eyes and see with all of our senses of the small things make a powerful difference. One small blue bud looks delicate, fragile and peaceful and as you step away, this blanket of blue ignites the landscape.

Enjoy!

I watched Julie & Julia today - certainly not for the first time (or last) and wondered if anyone reads what I write here. I am not sure how anyone finds these blogs but I made a promise that I would write more and more consistently. And ran out and bought butter. Lots of it!

There is a story running on the CNN page about how a Vegan magazine that had been illustrating photos that have now been found to include meat. There is a photo of Chicken stew that was re-used in the magazine indicating it was vegan.

Raises the question about truth in media and advertising. When photo shoots are done, how much of it is 'real' in the final product? Watching the 'September Issue', Wintour's honest account and indirect response to 'The Devil...' there is plenty of discussion about what photos stay and go and how a wig needs to be brought in because the real hair does not look good after a bad cut. Push up this, real in that, puff up this and minimize lines on photo shop. Does soy look as sexy as chicken? Does cropping the hair off a model or bone off a spare rib make a difference? They say sex sells. We all want something different. Vegans want no bones, no eggs cheese or milk.

It lies within the consumer's eye and our decision to buy the product and magazine. With 1 million in circulation, VegNews takes some risk slipping in a little chicken where there should be soy. In the end, it is up to the readers to decide whether or not they continue to buy the magazine. It is a choice, one we make each day.

And to Ms. Quarry Girl who has her 'barf bag' popped and ready for use - your controversal post may not have put food on your table, but it stirred up plenty of PR for this magazine! And on some level, they are thanking you.

Two years ago was the end of a very long journey. Faith is a hard thing to hold on to sometimes but when you think you can't do it any longer, push a little harder one more time....

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

Countrywide writes its wrongs, at last! One mortgage company leads ethically and with a heart.

After an adjustable arm FHA mortgage was refinanced on an over-estimated home value and mortgage payments increased by 50% in a downward spiraling housing & mortgage market, Countrywide approved a short sale and not only helped sell a house, but make a home for a new family.

Mandeville, Louisiana, April 9, 2009 – 18 months, a 6 page hardship letter, volumes of financial and legal information, in excess of 150 emails and numerous phone calls, our home was finally sold and title passed thanks to two wonderful ladies at Countrywide Mortgage. It may take a village, but in this case, it took two women who believed, who persevered and who relentlessly partnered with me to fight the good fight and truly make a difference.

In my lifetime that has included the end of the Vietnam war, the sexual revolution, our first president up for impeachment, Madonna, the crash of 1989, waves of real estate booms, desert storm, Madonna, our first black president and all the wonderful highs and the few lows, I never imagined that avarice would take our country to where it is now and how it would impact me and my family personally. After all, we even survived Katrina and housed a family of five virtual strangers in our little three bedroom house across the lake because theirs was destroyed by 11 feet of water.

Financial hardship as a result of the American nightmare – credit cards - a judgment and garnishment of wages led to my only recourse of re-financing the mortgage. Our house survived Katrina suffering only wind damage and needed only a replaced roof and was overvalued by the refinancer. I bought the house in August, 2003 for $156,000 and it is a great 3 bedroom house with an open floor plan in a wonderful subdivision with a pool and clubhouse with rules and regulations that keep the area safe, tidy and very well maintained with the best public school systems in the state. In just 2 short years it was preposterous to think that sweet little house was worth $250,000. I was desperate and need the surplus ‘equity’ to pay some bills and get my financial health in order. My mortgage payments (including real estate tax and homeowner’s insurance) went from a palatable $1,200 to over $1,800 per month.

We had decided that we would head back to the northeast to be nearer to family. I moved to Washington, DC taking a lower paying position and it made it nearly impossible to maintain the mortgage payments and my family stayed behind. I was offered a better paying job in Boston and this was a destination that was best for me and my family so after only 5 months in DC, I moved to Boston in August, 2007 and immediately took advantage of my relocation benefit and put the house in Mandeville on the market. We worked closely with Kathy Petz, a dynamic real estate professional with Coldwell Banker who poured her heart and soul into ensuring the home was staged well, priced right and anything it took to find a buyer. Open house after open house, advertising, last minute showings and all that goes into selling, we only had two offers. The first offer made in April, 2008 fell through because no one from Countrywide Mortgage ever contacted us to approve/deny/comment on a short sale and a three month period expired and the prospective buyer moved on.

Nearly one year later, mid February, 2009, the second offer came. The balance on my mortgage was just over $200,000 and the offer was for $185,000. Enter Countrywide mortgage and now the magic begins!

Lori Raya, Workout Negotiator, who works in the Office of the President at Countrywide worked very closely with me and requested payroll data, checking account information, a hardship letter, personal financial records and balance sheet and every available piece of information so she may make a reasonable business decision. In a short sale, she used a percentage of market value to the balance of the mortgage as one piece of the multi part puzzle to make her determination. Throughout my interactions with Ms. Raya, she treated me with respect, dignity and as if I was a million dollar customer and not someone on the edge. On Monday, March 9, 2009 Ms. Raya sent the approval letter of the short sale. Ms. Raya then turns over the process to another Workout Negotiator to close the sale.

Debra Spaulding, Workout Negotiator II with Countrywide took over. She was responsive, professional and again, treated me as a valued customer and in her case, she partnered with me through some very touch-and-go times and at two specific times, thought we would have lost the entire sale. We were at the home stretch and nothing could go wrong. Expect paragraph 15.

In the short sale approval letter, there is legal language that Countrywide put in to protect themselves from fraud. My relocation company who assumes power of attorney and ‘buys’ the house from me and sells it to the buyer refused this language and in the 11th hour, walked away from it and set policy refusing to work with short sales. Here we were left to start from scratch and the short sale approval was only valid until 4/6/09 so a week and a half before the expiration and about a week before the close, we had to have new contracts written, a HUD form and all new documents and papers signed, notarized and passed. Then the title companies hit a legal road block with this language and were not willing to neither write insurance on the sale nor participate in the close.

At this point, title companies were sending blast emails and memorandums to their affiliates not to accept short sale language such as this and specifically cited Countrywide. Ms. Spaulding went back and forth with her superiors and legal team and Ms. Raya was consulted and both of these ladies were not going to see this sale dissipate. They made it their personal mission to make sure nothing barred this sale from going to fruition; both of them had worked too hard to get to where we were. Through the power of persuasion, the legal expertise and years of mortgage experience and the old fashioned business ethic of truly caring for your customer; Ms. Spaulding and Ms. Raya were able to make the appropriate legal refinements and the title company accepted the change. Ms. Raya wrote, “I have done everything in my power to help you accomplish closure of this transaction. I know that you have great things to come and look forward to offering as much assistance as possible to help you complete this short sale.”

On April 2, 2009 1140 Milan Drive in Mandeville Louisiana was graciously delivered to a wonderful family and proud parents of a newly born baby girl. Countrywide has been in the papers, they have been in the news and under extreme scrutiny for their business practices. Ms. Spaulding and Ms. Raya, who represent Countrywide, singlehandedly forever changed the face of this company and I am forever grateful for all they did for me, my family and the family that will be able to have years of memories in their new home because two women genuinely cared.

# # #

Timothy Kirkpatrick, former homeowner and advocate for Countrywide

Yesterday was one of those days you finish with some leftover Chinese food and a couple of glasses of wine and pass out by 9. We lost an employee at work and my job as a friend and professional was being there for them. I cannot imagine some of the pain that these men endured and will have to function with in the coming days. You come in every day for the past 11 years and there is this beacon of a man who smiles everyday, is always early and in form to assist the others and do his work not just to the best of his ability nor to be the simple perfectionist, rather his purpose was to make sure he did not let his team; his family down. He never complained and took any conflicts within the department in his own caring hands and as he did with everything else, he looked at it, diagnosed it and healed it in his own way. Although I may have felt somewhat helpless along with some of my peers, I know that caring is not something you can put into a powerpoint or measure in a cup or with a ruler but when others know you are there and are feeling for them and with them, it is the best we can do.

Fleetwood Mac/ Lindsey Buckingham/Stevie Nicks ~ 2004 Australian Interview