A few days ago, I wrote a note to a friend, thanking him for “Liking” my most recent story. He is a muralist and musician, amongst other things, so I did a bit of riff on self-expression and how it has been a progression for me. It got me thinking about the arc of my life and how it has always felt like this hard to grasp act of always becoming.

You know, it’s funny, I can think about all the chronological milestones and the certainty of being in this place of knowing at each one. I went to Queens College in NYC and it meant I continued living at home, long after I didn’t want to be held accountable for my time. I was tired of still having the vestiges of childhood, but I actually didn’t want my mother to worry about my whereabouts either. She busted her ass, bringing up my brother and I, after our father died when I was just 9. I actually worried about her, if you can believe that. I was terrified of being orphaned as a little kid and it stayed with me for years, plus I liked her a lot, in spite of some annoying traits, an affliction of her generation.

After graduating from college, a time I was dreaming about, freedom had to wait, because the Army Reserve would soon be calling me up for active duty. During those last few years, I was working at NBC, a job I got while still in college. After school, I became a full time employee, working a variety of jobs in their Guest Relations Dept., initially as a page (usher) at the Tonight Show with Johnny Carson, the best job I ever had!. 

NBC was obligated to hire me back after active duty and they did. I worked in a department called Station Clearance, which meant I had to do my best to make sure that the independently owned affiliates carried all the networks’s program, which they didn’t have to do. I wore a suit to work. I had an office and shared a secretary. I got an attache case. I was pretending to be a grown up and that’s how it felt, but it did feel great at times,

Finally, I got to move out of the house, splicing the umbilical cord of my dependence and neurotic accountability. I moved into the Ageloff Towers, on Avenue A and Fourth Street, in the East Village, years before it became gentrified and overpriced. I got my own room in a seven room apartment that we referred to as The Cave. Remember now, this was the late Sixties and freedom was epidemic.

I felt myself beginning to split in half and I suppose it was partially my Gemini blueprint, plus me wrestling with my circumstances and the times. I bought a used 250 cc Honda from any Army Reserve buddy and went to a clothing store in The Village and bought a cracked, black leather, bomber jacket. I was definitely feeling split between predictability and the whisper of something else. Being my simpleton’s idea of grown up felt kind of cool, while the bomber jacket and cycle were symbolic enticements of a lifestyle I had no road map for. 

Looking back from all this distance, I see a 4 year old boy, entertaining his father and making him laugh. When he’d come home from road trips, I’d greet him at the door, wearing one of his grown up hats, imitating an old-time Vaudevillian comedian, Jimmy Durante. I liked performing and felt a real comfort with it, an affinity for the spot light. This got buried, shoveled over by the expectations that come with being a good boy, walking the road most traveled.

In my mid 20’s, I got married and had two children. Certainly, for much of that time, I traveled on a familiar path for many my age. The bomber jacket days were a kind of tease that got put aside for many years. Most of my 30’s were spent in therapy, as my world of predictability began to crumble, but I still stayed close to what I had known, working within the familiar

In my early 40’s, I left for Santa Fe, NM, a very difficult decision, because of my two sons, one of those things, that no matter how much time has passed, it has indelibly marked us all. The rest of my life in NYC had run its course and changing the stage seemed the best way to change the story. I left behind all the trappings of city life and felt like I finally got to act like I felt. 

I moved around professionally, committed to casting off the sameness I lived with in NYC. I suppose you could say I was birthing a more creative side of myself, even if it was still a part of an inordinate number of business opportunities. I kind of liked this different way of being. Looking back, it felt like I was finally leaving my fingerprints on my life, readily identifiable patterns that were more of who I wanted to be.

Before I knew it, I was in my 50’s and until you cross that threshold, longevity feels like a distant concept. I could feel it coming on and I know that is what drew me to a Zen practice. It seemed to answer questions with questions, as if there are actually answers making the journey easier. My time in Santa Fe came to a close after about 15 years, taking me as far as I could go, with so much more to learn.

I could say I found Kauai, but I am pretty sure she found me. It’s been like finding the perfect canvas for me to paint that person I dreamt about being, as the little boy entertaining his father. I am now doing what I never either imagined or allowed myself to do until now.

Most of you are likely younger than I am. You will be amazed at how you never stop growing up. Dreams don’t grow old, they are eternal and sometimes it takes time and travel to realize them.

I am a goddamn writer, with a book and hundreds of stories already told and shared. I have a weekly podcast, my own radio show. I got a Youtube channel, with my friend and I thoroughly enjoy what we’re doing. 

It has taken more years than I ever imagined possible, especially as a little boy, harboring soul secrets that scared the shit out of me. I wrote to my friend, “I think we spend our entire lives becoming who we want to be and the lucky ones can just about get there.”