Walking Uphill

It seems like I am always walking uphill, and I am beginning to think this is not my imagination; maybe I really am always going uphill. I start in the morning in Kirribilli, across the Harbour from downtown Sydney, take the ferry or train, and walk up hill to my office in the CBD. At night I usually walk uphill to the Harbour Bridge and walk across the bridge to Kirribilli.

Sometimes I even walk down to walk up. Take the Cahill elevated walk from Macquarie Street to the Harbour Bridge. It is uphill all the way until you reach the bridge. Then you are required to walk down steps in order to walk uphill back to the Bridge walkway. Who would design something like this?

Sometimes I have to climb stairs instead of walking up hill. From Argyle Street, there are 69 stairs to reach Cumberland Street and then another 64 stairs to the Harbour Bridge walkway. I think I would rather walk uphill than climb so many stairs.

I know theoretically if I end where I started; the uphill walks should be balanced by downhill walks. But I don’t remember walking downhill; only the uphill hikes. Maybe it is an Australian thing. Perhaps the earth rotates in such a way that it is uphill to the CBD in the morning, but cosmic changes make the return journey uphill in the evening.

Sound crazy? If you’re from North America everything else in this country is crazy. The sun comes up in the wrong place; Christmas is in the summer, and the country celebrates the Queen of England's birthday in the wrong month. By contrast, always walking uphill would not come as a surprise.

My life seems like a metaphor with one uphill journey after another. Let me count the hills I have walked recently.

• Managing a company through an economic downturn. How do you grow when the surrounding world is shrinking? You don’t; you just try to shrink less.

• Banks. Lately, I have been dealing a lot with banks. Getting them to agree is more like climbing a mountain.

• Saving money. It is really challenging to save money here. The Government takes the first 45% of my salary. Then they take 10% every time I buy anything. If I were to buy a house in the suburbs, the State Government requires an infrastructure charge that can add $100,000 to the cost of a home. I see the charge but what happened to the infrastructure?

When I started working in Sydney, the Aussie dollar was almost at parity with the U.S. dollar. Since then, it has averaged about 2/3 the value. So I am paid in discounted dollars, taxed at 45% and then taxed again in the U.S. My soon to be ex-wife wants the rest. No wonder saving money is a challenge.

• Gaining weight. At first I lost weight in Sydney, probably due to all the walking – in the U.S. I drive a car everywhere. But I am regaining weight in response to high calorie coffee (I drink uncontaminated black in the States), too many business lunches and dinners, an Aussie beer now and then, too much Aussie wine, working too many hours, eating snacks to compensate for insufficient sleep, etc.

• Exercising. Everyone says exercise is good but who has the time? I typically work 12 hours a day and am tired the other 12. Last week I went swimming for the first time in years; I almost drowned in the slow lane.

• Dealing with my soon to be ex-wife. This may be more like jumping off a cliff.

• Dating single women after being married (and faithful) for 30 years. Aren’t I too old for this?

• Communicating with my youngest son; “I don’t need your advice Dad. I only graduated a year ago and am working on a finding a job.”

• Sleeping after reading the latest missive from my divorce attorney outlining my wife’s latest demands and my limited options

• Sleeping after receiving the latest invoice from my divorce attorney.

• Sleeping after meeting with the banks.

• Sleeping after meeting with the investors explaining what happened to their investment.


So lately my life has included a lot of walking up hill. But one thing about hills; there is always a top. I sense I am getting closer to the top and when I do reach the top of the hill, it should be all downhill from there …. unless there is another taller hill blocking my path.

Anxiety

In 1977, Mel Brooks released the movie, High Anxiety, and introduced the Psychoneurotic Institute for the very very nervous. I would not qualify for the Institute but lately I seem to be suffering from an occasional bout of anxiety. As I talk to others, I am finding anxiety is pretty common; I have lots of company. So what are the causes of such widespread anxiety? There are so many causes and events it is a wonder we all do not suffer permanent anxiety.

Here are a few examples I have encountered.

Flying Anywhere

• Getting There. Anxiety starts even before you get to the airport. Did you forget anything? Do you have the flight time correct? Do you have your ticket? Does your bag weigh too much? What did you forget?

Driving to the airport or taking a taxi knowing that the plane is leaving whether you are there in time or not causes concern. Add some traffic congestion and a late start and suffer all the way to the airport.

I used to fly occasionally from Tijuana Mexico. Aero Mexico had a rule; the plane departed when the captain wanted to. If the captain had a hot date waiting in Mexico City, the plane left early. Passengers arrived very early; no one knew what the captain’s plans were that day.

• Long Lines. Okay, so you arrive early; why is the line so long? If there is more than one line, the odds always dictate you will pick the slowest moving line. Should you switch to the back of a faster moving line? No, as soon as you switch, the old line will pick up and the new line will slow. Always happens. Maybe a mathematician will figure out why this is and win a Nobel Price someday.

• Security. I always feel guilty when I approach the presence of so many uniformed security officers, even though I would never bring anything that raised questions (sorry but my son must have put the scissors in the bag officer…). In India, there must be 10 security checks just to reach the gate. India is not for people who worry.

• Taking Off. Planes taxi on the runway for a couple days before they actually take off. This is just the suspenseful build up to the take off; it is the airline’s equivalent of foreplay. Taking off is a game to see if 1 million kilos of metal and flesh can lift off the ground before the runway ends.

I have a friend who formerly did business in one of the remote areas of Russia. Occasionally a Russian flight would crash taking off or landing at the local airfield. The Russians just left the debris of the crashed plane at the end of the runway and scavenged the downed planes for parts when needed. Imagine how secure you would feel seeing other planes that previously crashed on the same runway. Maybe you can take comfort that the parts in the crashed planes have been reused and possibly are in your plane.

Late for a meeting or an appointment

• I hate being late for a meeting. Driving in traffic always raises the worry I will be late. Driving in traffic, running late, and having to go to the bathroom are the perfect storm for anxiety sufferers.

• I suspect driving to a job interview, stuck in traffic, in need of a bathroom probably surpasses even the perfect storm. It is not comforting to know that there are a few hundred other qualified candidates who want the same job and you are about to show up late for the interview.

• I can become anxious even walking across town to a meeting if I am late, the crowd is moving too slowly, and the crossing lights seem synchronized to delay my progress.

Doctors

• My blood pressure rises as soon as I enter a doctor’s office. Just being there adds stress. If I do not feel ill when I go (for a check up for example), I feel ill by the time I leave. There have been studies that people who go to a hospital for treatment have a greater chance of getting sick than those who do not go.

• Dentist offices are even worse. The sound of the drill sends chills – too many memories of childhood cavities. The American CIA really did not need water-boarding to make terror suspects talk; they just needed to let a dentist drill’s shrill sound to emanate from the room next door.

Public Restrooms

• It is bad enough to use a public restroom (or airplane bathroom) not knowing how disgusting or diseased the person was who used the toilet before you did. But if there is only one or two usable toilets and you cannot go right away, you struggle knowing the line to use the facility is probably growing longer and the queue impatient.

Sleep

• Everyone I know seems to have trouble sleeping. For me, it is too much on my mind after a long day dealing with problems. As I slow down, the problems linger longer. I often solve issues lying in bed; but I would prefer not to solve so many issues at 3 AM.


Other Anxious Moments

• Dealing with my soon to be ex-wife. The stress level spikes just seeing her name on the email or seeing her number on the ringing telephone.

• Dealing with a divorce attorney or receiving an invoice from one.

• Entering the dating scene after being married and faithful for 100 years

• Being married in general

• Being single

• Borrowing money when the banks do not want to loan. I met with one banker who said, “my first answer is No; my second answer is No; my third answer is No. What else can I tell you?” I replied “The first three answers don’t work so let’s discuss answer number 4.”

• Having the guy next to you retrenched

• Being retrenched instead of the guy next to you.

• Being the boss and having to retrench both guys

• Having a cockroach run across the dressing area or bathroom countertop as you ready for bed and disappear before you kill him.

• Going to Mexico in the midst of the Swine Flu epidemic. Mexico can be a tough place to visit even without the flu. Now you can get robbed and contaminated at the same time.

The environment in which we live is filled with anxious moments and events. I am unsure of the best solutions to deal with these moments but here are a few recommendations I have encountered.

• Drink 4 glasses of red wine a day. This was the philosophy of a guy I worked for. He never seemed too stressed so it seemed to work; but the company did eventually fail.

• Take sleeping pills. These things seem to work for a short time and then stop working. According to one warning label I read, they cease to be effective after a few days and will then actually cause insomnia. I guess this means you have to switch to other pills every few days. Sounds like a marketing plan from the pharmaceutical industry based on addiction.

• Find a low stress job. I do not believe they exist but if they do, most people I know will find a way to introduce stressful conditions into an otherwise unstressed situation.

• Arrange to meet God and work out a deal. The devout seem to be less stressed (unless they signed on as a suicide bomber but are not fully convinced about the 21 virgins waiting for them in the afterlife).

• Exercise to the point of exhaustion. You may be too tired to be stressed.

• Read a book or The Economist Magazine – it takes longer to read than most books.

• Pretend you’re a writer and author columns on such current topics like “Anxiety.”

I do not think anxiety can be avoided; but the recognition of its widespread presence seems to lead to a less anxious feeling. Misery does like company. So encountering and recognizing more anxiety can lead to less anxiety. If the ‘more is less’ argument does not appeal, talk to your doc and get drugs.

The Bug in the Bedroom

Last night I noticed a bug walking across the floor of the bedroom as I readied for bed. I ran to the bathroom for Kleenex to catch this misplaced creature and flush him away; but when I returned the bug was gone. Where did he go? Not under the bed, not on the bed, not under the table, where is that buggar?

As I climbed into bed I could not help wonder if the ugly critter had somehow gotten into the bed. Perhaps even under the covers. Lights on, out of bed, covers peeled back, but no sign of the creepy denizen.

Lights out, back in bed, time for sleep. It is late and I have an early meeting tomorrow. So what happened to the buggar? Could it be in the pillow case? Probably not. Why do I care; it was just a harmless bug. Maybe I should check the pillows.

If it was a cockroach, I would be more concerned. Roaches travel in groups. See one roach and there are relatives nearby. I hate roaches. Once I went to brush my teeth, and there was a roach on the bristles of my toothbrush. Yuck!

Once I stayed in a cheap motel and the wall seemed to move when the lights were out but a little light creped in from outside through the thin curtains sufficient to show movement and shadows. When I turned on the lights, I was astonished to see roaches on the wall. The lights remained on all night and I slept not.

But the creature in my bedroom last night was not from the hated roach family; he was just a brown buggar intruding on my private space. Maybe he is nocturnal and when I turn on the lights, he will be out of hiding. Lights on; no bug.

Once my ex-wife and I had a cat who used to catch big bugs and bring them home to show us. One night the cat let a katydid go under the covers of our bed and danced around the bed as the bug moved under the covers. My wife awoke and screamed; I thought Hells Angels motorcycle gang had broken in and we were under attack.

This was not a katydid. Nor was it one of Australia’s many venomous spiders or scorpions; it was just a bug. So where did it go? At least I know it was not in the pillow case.

An Economic Primer by a Non-Economist

The news today is dominated by economic data, which seems to always be bad. When the colored graphs in the newspapers and websites always point down, that usually is not a good sign. The only up pointing graphs seem to be an increasing amount of bad stuff (unemployment, foreclosures, etc.).

With economics on the front pages, I thought it could be helpful to understand economic terms that are now so casually used without definition or explanation. If you were a political science major like I was, some definition and guidance could be essential. So here is what I have come to understand about common economic terms.

Toxic assets. This is a difficult one. How can something that is an asset be toxic? It appears to me that this is a case where an investment banker declares an obtuse financial instrument that normal people (including high paid executives evidently) cannot understand an ‘asset,’ sells it to someone else, who then implodes, and the guy who sold it gets a bonus.

Negative growth. How can growth be negative? This is another oxymoron. It is as though politicians and economists fear using the word 'down,' so they call it 'anti-up.' This is a phrase created to avoid saying more pejorative terms like we’re all going down the drain.

Infrastructure. Governments spending money on infrastructure is very popular across the world. Governments everywhere are going into debt to fund infrastructure projects. Since you will have to pay for it, you should know just what is ‘infrastructure?’ It is anything the Government wants to spend money on (house insulation, college scholarships, tanks, etc.).

Global Recession. When a politician blames the ‘Global Recession’ for everything that goes wrong and for an inability to balance the budget, he/she is saying “Don’t blame me; it’s the other guy’s fault.” In that sense, a global recession is how my soon to be ex-wife viewed our marriage.

Economic Stimulus. This goes hand in hand with Global Recession. The phrase means politicians can spend money that they do not have because there is a Global Recession. The worse the Global Recession appears, the more money politicos are allowed to spend. When you hear one of them conjuring up memories of the Great Depression, be prepared for truly massive spending.

Liquidity Crisis. When banks don’t make loans necessary to sustain business, it leads lots of people to drink; hence a liquidity crisis.

Mark to Market. This is a strange accounting technique used to force companies (like banks) to write down assets that are otherwise performing just fine. By writing down assets, banks no longer have appropriate reserves or balance sheet capacity to make new loans, which causes borrowers to default and requires even more mark downs in an unending downward spiral. I think the concept was invented based on a guy named Mark, who went to market but lost his money gambling while he was supposed to be buying groceries.

Retention Bonus. This phrase was made famous by AIG recently, who paid traders in London retention bonuses after they lost a trillion dollars. Unlike a performance bonus, a retention bonus is earned by going to work every day and doing your job. I suspect the unions were caught by surprise when they read about AIG. They must all be asking themselves, “Why didn’t I think of that?” I can see the new bargaining position – no major salary increases just big retention bonuses for everyone.

Softening Conditions. I never realized conditions could be ‘soft’ like toilet paper. This is a polite way of saying things are going from bad to worse or we are about to be flushed.

Promising. This adjective can apply to investments, economic conditions, or even your social life. Generally it means past performance is pathetic but things are unlikely to get worse.

Productivity. This is an economic term that measures how much stuff is produced per worker. When productivity is rising, it means each worker is producing more stuff; and it generally leads to rising employment levels. When productivity is declining, it usually means people aren’t buying as much and you still have lots of workers who aren’t producing so much. Declining productivity is a precursor to rising unemployment as companies fire unneeded workers. Similarly, when a politician produces a lot of words that do not accomplish anything, it is political productivity. As long as their productivity remains high, politicians are unlikely to lose their jobs.

Default. This word has two different meanings. It can mean the norm or the condition achieved when no other direction is given as in the default position. However, if you read this word in the business section in the newspaper in Australia, it means ‘stuffed’ as in the company is stuffed because of too much debt and too few banks.

Economic Cycle. Things that go up eventually go down and vice versa. Think of a bicycle tire that rotates as you peddle. Any point on the tire rotates to the top and then to the bottom. The economy is similar; in recessions economic activity declines and in periods of growth or expansion, activity increases. So where are we in the economic cycle today? Think of a flat tire.

Waiting for Hamish

The palm fronds were horizontal in the wind; the rain was so thick and descending so fast the harbor and surrounding islands were no longer visible, hidden behind the curtain of cloud and water. The wind was loud, making its own angry noise as it blew with a ferocity I had not before encountered.

We looked out our glass encased rental home, built to showcase the stunning views in every direction during normal times. Perched on the top of the steep hill, the house did not offer the magnificent views today; instead standing alone and unprotected against the unimpeded wind.

A category 5 cyclone (aka hurricane), the most powerful of storms, marched steadily toward our island retreat. We recalled other Category 5 storms like Andrew in Florida, and the damage that resulted. Katrina was only a Cat 3; and New Orleans has yet to recover.

It was not supposed to be this way: a reunion of friends from the U.S. on an island off Australia’s northeastern coast; an idyllic setting for snorkeling, unspoiled beaches, and visits to The Great Barrier Reef. It was to be a respite from the pressures of work and home.

Three guys who have experienced great success yet are struggling late in life with terrible economic and business conditions and difficulties at home. Three genuinely nice guys who have known each other for 25 years during long careers in the U.S. and are well respected and liked planned this sojourn, our first together despite knowing each other for so long.

Gene organized the trip. A senior partner at one of New York’s most prestigious law firms, Gene is overseeing a staff of transaction hardened attorneys in a market were there are few transactions. He struggles with a long term marriage which offers increasing volatility and uncertainty. Two of his adult children accompanied him for a trip of bonding and mutual support.

Glenn flew up with his wife, Mary, from Melbourne. Glenn and I worked together in New York at a public company (Glenn as CEO and me as President); after I left Glenn sold the company to a big Australian company, that later became insolvent when the credit markets collapsed. Glenn became CEO of the combined company and has worked day and night to salvage the company from liquidation. This was his time to relax for a few days and reconnect with his wife.

I am CEO of an Australian company in Sydney after a long career in the U.S. Now, however, I too am struggling with too much corporate debt in a debt-starved marketplace and too little income in a deteriorating property market. To add to my difficulties, my wife of 30 years has filed for divorce in the U.S. and seems determined to pursue aggressive and expensive legal remedies to insure a comfortable lifestyle for her and not much for me. The three of us needed this break from the daily pressures of life; we looked forward to it with much anticipation; it was to be our R&R and an opportunity to recharge our physical and mental batteries.

Yet, now we stood in the path of one of the most powerful storms ever to cruise the Australian coastline. There was no place to hide; no bridge to cross to safety; no planes or boats leading away from the storm’s path. As we looked out from our glass enclosure, we waited for Hamish to come.

We did all the preparatory things you are supposed to do when a storm approaches. We filled the bathtubs and various containers with water in anticipation of losing power and water. We secured flashlights, matches, and candles. We bought extra food and drink (including several six-packs of beer) at the grocery store; placed outdoor furniture in the pool so pieces would not become airborne missiles, and moved away movable objects from inside windows. We located safer spaces to hide and discussed how to communicate and where to go if the behemoth hit at night.

Our only transportation on the mountaintop was a buggy (aka golf cart). Amidst the driving rain, the buggy stopped working. This was surely an omen; even the buggy feared to venture out. We borrowed a buggy from the neighbor for trips to town.

The Aussies in town seemed eerily calm and unconcerned. “No worries, mate,” was a common response to questions of pending destruction. “When is the storm projected to hit here, I asked the woman at the news stand?” “Tomorrow” she replied, with an air of indifference. “No worries, if the police want you to evacuate, they will stop by and tell you.” “But where do we evacuate to?” “The police will know; maybe the conference center.”

I realized all of the local residents who exuded such self confidence were 25 years old or younger. I guess the older residents left town when they could. The last cyclone to hit the islands was 10 years ago, and most of the people we met were not here then.

We drove the buggy to town and stopped first at the tour office where we had made snorkeling reservations the previous day. The girl in the office at the time lacked concern that the storm would affect the next day’s outing; that was yesterday. Today the office was locked up, windows taped, and a hurried sign posted “No tours until further notice.”

We drove to the Italian Restaurant we planned to have dinner that night. “Only accepting dinner reservations before 6:30 pm” the manager said; the restaurant was closing early so employees could look for safety before Hamish came calling.

Hamish appeared to be slowing down according to reports we picked up in town. That was both good and bad news. At least it would not hit until the following day when we could react in daylight, but it also met the potential for more damage and a longer encounter with the unwanted visitor. The projected path continued to point at our island.

The news was sporadic; even the Australian television news did not give much coverage; no news people on islands holding on and trying to avoid being blown over in the gale force winds; no camera coverage of damage on islands already hit; no scary stories of past natural calamities. Either the Aussie public didn’t care or the media was not as reckless as their American cousins.

That night the wind blew in waves from hard to ferociously hard. The gusts drowned out the sounds of crashing waves on the beaches below and rain from above. But the house held without noticeable breaks.

In the morning, we received some good news. According to my Blackberry internet browser, the storm seemed to be moving slightly east toward open ocean. We all took turns squinting at the miniature picture of the cyclone’s path on the small Blackberry screen. Yes, we all agreed, even those of us with questionable eyesight, there was movement off course. We seemed no longer destined for the 280 k/hour winds at the eye of the storm.

Finally some news on the limited selection of television stations on this island. Hamish was indeed moving away from the coast; high winds and rain would continue for most of the day but Hamilton Island was no longer directly in the path. We drove around the island later as the rain abated; there were few others about but we did meet a woman who told us the island was under curfew and many of the residents had been evacuated to the conference center and were not yet allowed to leave. Later, they opened the doors and everyone was outside looking at the limited storm damage and wondering what the big deal was. By the next morning, the stores were open and we were packing to leave the island paradise to be experienced some future trip.

Once again, the Aussie attitude of “No worries Mate,” came out like the winner, although I fear the day when people do not take threats seriously. And for Gene, Glenn, and myself, we finished our long island weekend without once worrying about banks, or debts, or even issues at home. And Gene and his children bonded; and Glenn and Mary shared an unforgettable experience together.

What's the Rush?

Today I walked to the pharmacy during lunch. I was not in a hurry; my next meeting was not for an hour and the drugstore was close to my office. As I approached the traffic signal, the pedestrian light turned to flashing red. This is the universal symbol to run quickly to beat the dreaded steady red hand. So I was in no rush but I ran; it would be unthinkable to waste a minute waiting for my turn to cross the street. Others ran too; and I bet they were not in a hurry either. What is it that causes us to rush when we are not hurried?

For some reason, it just seems intolerable to have to wait at a red traffic signal. I could be doing more productive things like going somewhere. But to be stalled seems wasteful. Everyone needs something to do, especially Type A personalities like myself. Doing nothing drives me nuts.

Maybe that is why traffic signals have push buttons for pedestrians. We can push the button repeatedly and take satisfaction when the light changes. I don’t know about Sydney, but the City of New York disconnected the push buttons years ago but did not tell anyone. It seems computerized traffic management programs and push buttons are not compatible. But New York officials were smart enough to know people waiting at traffic signals need something to do, especially something that they think causes change to occur. So they left the buttons, and New Yorkers push and push and claim satisfaction when the light changes.

I think the only people who do not rush are older tourists. I know they are old, because the walk slowly; I know they are tourists because they are not in a rush. Old people on holiday cannot rush because they have too much time to go places they don’t know how to get to. Everyone else is in a hurry whether they are in a hurry or not.

People driving cars are in a rush too, but they are fined for rushing. In the U.S., drivers used to accelerate when the traffic light turned yellow to avoid waiting at a red light. Then some entrepreneur had an epiphany and convinced cities to install cameras at traffic signals. Now if you speed up, you receive a fine in the mail. This has become a big moneymaker for cities. What cities need to do and have completely failed so far is to equip drivers with push buttons like pedestrians. The time would pass more quickly if drivers had buttons to push to seemingly make the lights change. Maybe we could start a rumor that it takes three drivers to push at once; that would keep everyone stopped at a traffic light occupied.

The Road to Somewhere

I am driving on the road to somewhere; I do not know where the road leads; I have no map and no modern navigation. I wonder what I will do when the road forks or intersects but for now the road is straight with no choices to make.

This is unusual for me. I am normally disciplined; my plans are usually clear and well considered; the path forward is generally known. New encounters and experiences in route are welcome but the path is otherwise set.

In contrast, I am now adrift, driving forward with no sense of destination or what lies ahead. I know how to drive and so I drive.

I look about and amidst the uncertainty and unfamiliarity, I yearn for the familiar where roles were known, friendships certain, and relationships defined. I remember when I worked during the day, returned home at night to dinner with my family, did things as a couple with my wife, and vacationed with my family. Now I drive alone.

I want to turn back but I realize the road past traveled no longer exists. My wife is divorcing me after 30 years of marriage. I want to go back to better times, but there is no way back.

In hindsight, our relationship was never that close. In recent years my wife turned hostile, blaming me for all that troubled her, criticizing me every day for perceived faults and foibles. She made my life miserable but I do not think of that now; I yearn for the familiar road.

I realize that road was not as good as I choose to remember; if it was we would not be divorcing. But I choose to remember the prior roads that led to happy places.

Oh how I want to go back and correct her misunderstandings, wrong beliefs, and misconstrued memories. I want to explain her misperceptions and remind her that I am a good person not deserving of such hostility. I know she will not listen but cannot yet accept this. Everyone who has driven this road tells me I cannot go back; I must give up the hope and proceed forward; this is hard for me to do.

I want to change the past, but it is not possible. I apologize for my faults, but she takes that as confirmation that her criticisms are justified. She seems irrational and maybe even mentally unbalanced; I am unable to connect with her or even have normal conversation. The familiar road exists only in my memory; I cannot go back.

So I drive on; less confident often looking in the rearview mirror trying to glimpse where I have been. The road continues straight, however, distancing me from whatever went before.

I observe the changing landscape, always curious about new things and new experiences; but curiosity does not compensate for my loss of what was familiar. Formerly I sought new experiences and craved learning new things, but I always knew I could go home when I tired of what was new. I cannot go home now because home no longer exists.

She wants our home; she wants our savings; she wants our friends; she demands my past. I live in the present passing unfamiliar towns and wondering where this road goes.

I have always been successful in business. I know how to make money but I always left our social life to her. We were a team; I made the money and she made our friends. She took the lead, but we both were very involved with raising our children, who are now grown.

Now I continue to make money but am cast into the unfamiliar role of developing a social network. I know how to drive but I lack the skills to maintain the car.

I know I must let go of the past and establish a new destination and route to go there. But I am not able to let go so easily and have no destination. I know what I must do but actually moving ahead is too difficult for me. So I drive not knowing where I go.

I look in the mirror; I am older than I remember and older than those around me. How did I age so? How much longer will I be able to drive?

Should I pick up a passenger? There are many candidates but none seem right. I compare them to my first meeting with my wife many years ago, and they compare unfavorably.

Why did she become so mean and treat me so badly? Is it my fault? Did I neglect her so? What should I have done differently?

I know this is mostly her fault but doubts emerge. Did my behavior elicit her behavior? I am confused; I want to go back and change history; but I cannot go back because there is no back.

I call my children; they are wonderful young men. We love each other, but they have their own lives, and I do not want to burden them with my problems. It is important they realize their mother and I love them so much; we just do not like each other that much right now.

The road occasionally turns but continues without end in sight. Oddly there are no sign posts to tell me where I am going. Others who have traveled this road warn me it is a long and difficult journey where the destination remains unclear and unknown until it is reached. They also warn me the road is one way with no turn-a-rounds.

So I continue to drive on the road to somewhere.