The Summer of ’69

It’s could have been what is happening in Gaza, maybe I heard Brian Adam’s “Summer of ’69” at the gym yesterday or maybe it was this weeks episode of NYMed. I am not sure exactly what stream of consciousness brought me to flash on memories of the New York bombing in the summer 1969.

I was but a little kid, but I remember my fear after seeing the news stories. I remember kids talking about it on the playground at kindergarten and adults not talking about it all when kids were around. I distinctly remember thinking that the bombings were in New York City and not on Long Island, where I was, so I was safe. I, like much of America was afraid that summer.

As I did some research last night, it turns out that today, coincidentally marks the 45th anniversary of the first of eight bombing starting with the United Fruit Company warehouse at the Grace Pier on the Hudson River. Samuel Melville was convicted of setting those bombs between July 27 and November 12. Melville was sentence to 13 to 18 years and was killed during the Attica prison riots 1971.   Could you imagine a guy blowing up 8 buildings including The Criminal Courts Building at 100 Centre Street and getting less than 20 years?

The New York Times reported that,

The 1969 bombings were part of a wave of similar episodes across the nation that spurred fear and anxiety. (One study found that from January 1969 to October 1970, there were about 370 bombings — most of them minor — in New York, an average of more than one every other day.

The hearing, part of an investigated led Senator John L. McClellan, Democrat of Arkansas, concluded that from January 1969 to April 1970, the United States sustained 4,330 bombings — 3,355 of them incendiary, 975 explosive — resulting in 43 deaths and $21.8 million in property damage. “

I remember my mom once told me that a bomb went off near her when she was getting out of a cab near Penn Station.  I didn’t want to believe her; I wanted her to be lying.

On this day there are more children living amid bombings.  All I can do today is send prayer out on their behalf and hope that they live lives where they just don’t remember or at best vaguely remember this horrible period in their history, the way I vaguely remember the New York bombings in mine.

La Fête Nationale

Happy Bastille Day, 2014!

It’s been 225 years since the storming of the Bastille, the French State Prison. The Bastille’s guards surrendered even though they outgunned the mob of less than 1000 who sought gunpowder for their empty muskets.

The Bastille symbolized Louis XVI’s absolute power and its fall to the people was equally symbolic.  After the fall, the French Revolution spread throughout France.

The events of that day in 1789 were attributed to abuses of Louis XVI and perceived threats to the promised French Constitution. An economic crisis resulting from government over-extension and over-taxation contributed. The big difference between the French Revolution and the American Revolution as that the French middle-class also wanted to own land and vote.

Although not a holiday that is normally observed in the United States, it’s always wise to be aware of the observances of other cultures and religions.

So on this day, let’s open a bottle of French wine, lift a glass to Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité, Liberty, Equality and Fraternity (brotherhood).    Maybe, let us eat cake, too.

Peace, people!

The Center of Your Universe

Here’s the thing, when the world gets to be too much

I imagine it as a bubble collapsing tightly around me.

I won’t get  claustrophobic because inside the bubble is the universe of my mind

which is boundless.

The problem with being in a boundless universe of a mind is that it is so very easy to get lost.

That’s why we need an anchor:  A person that mirrors where the center of your universe is.

Our center is where our beliefs vibrate as true and all the other belief systems (BS) just fade away.

When you are at your center, you know it.  It vibrates true at just the right frequency.

You see truth and you see that which is false.

There is so much false.


May you find your center and may it be a peaceful and simple place.

Travel Day – Visit to Mt. Takao (Takao-San)

Travel Day 26 of 2014 found me in Tokyo on a rainy Sunday morning.  This was one of two rest days on this two-week trip.  On my agenda today was a hike up Mt Takao (Mt. Takaosan) about 50km outside of Tokyo.   My hosts earlier in the week suggested that hiking up Mt. Takao would have been better prior to the start of the rainy season.   Unfortunately, I was there during the rainy season.

The early morning rain had me wondering if I should do something else this day, but anything else would have been a failure to do what I set out to.   In my mind it was better to travel to Mt. Takao and to fail to climb it than to do anything else that Tokyo had to offer (I limit myself that way).  Besides, as I had told people who I would be climbing Mt. Takao, to do otherwise, pardon the West Side Story reference, would label me, “lousy”.

View from the Takaosanguchi Train Station

Mt. Takao Sign at the Shinjuku Station on the Keio Line

I had seen a YouTube video describing how to get to Mt. Takao from Shinagawa station, near where I was staying.  It was inaccurate.  When I arrived in Shinagawa station, I found I had to go to Shinjuku station to catch the Keio train line.   It turns out there are two ways to get from Shinjuku station to Mt. Takao train station.   One can either take a local train to Kitano Station and then switch for Takaosanguchi station or if it’s running , there is a semi-express train to Takaosanguchi station.   If you have the option, take the 50 minute semi-express train to and from Takaosanguchi.  Even if you have to wait 20 or 30 extra minutes, take the semi-express instead of the local trains, they are much faster.


When I stepped off the train in Takaosanguchi, I was definitely no longer in Tokyo, the city was replaced by a small town surrounded by trees.   I gained an immediate appreciation for the dense forest that Japan was a long time ago.   The trees here are tall, narrow and centuries old you can feel it when you look at them.

Upon leaving the train station, one sees the sign from the internet that presents all the routes.  One the top of the mountain, there is a statue of a white horse.  It was my goal to try to make it to the horse, but I knew I only had at best a 25% chance given the rainy weather, the distance and the nature of the climb.


The Map of the Various Trails on Mt. Takao

The path up the hill starts immediately after the train station.   After a few hundred meters, one has the option of paying 480 yen to take the cable car up first part of the mountain.  Part of me wanted to take the hike up, but I also realized that I was about an hour behind where I wanted to be and a hike to the top of the mountain was going to be a draining climb in the rain.  The cable car was the smarter choice to start the journey.

The Cable Car at Mt. Takao

The Cable Car at Mt. Takao

The cable car took me up to about 1000ft.   The air was clean, crisp and of course wet.  The energy on the mountain was soothing.  It was calm and serene.  Later on that week someone I was meeting with compared it to Sedona.  He was right.   I felt peaceful there.


A  Shinto temple sits about 3/4 of a mile out from the cable car. There is a grace and an elegance in the small shrines that line the way to the huge temple.

On the way to the Shintu Temple

On the way to the Shinto Temple

I took way too many pictures and videos to post here, so I will leave you with this one.


Once you pass the shrines, the real hike begins. I brought my Garmin with me just so I could capture the elevation change over this hike. On these trails, you are either climbing or descending. There isn’t a whole lot of flat.

Screen Shot 2014-06-16 at 9.53.42 PM

After the temple, I did not see another sign in English.  You have to either have someone with you who speaks Japanese or be very well prepared.  I had a huge case of neither.  I found myself at one point at a juncture between three trails.  I took one that I thought lead to the top.  It dead-ended with a beautiful view of a nearby city.  I enjoyed the scenery for a long time (for me) and then doubled back.   I had to make a choice between two trails both clearly marked in Japanese.  The path I took would not take me to the top of Mt. Takao.


The Last Sign with English

I climbed man, I climbed.  At one point I got into this amazing rhythm going up the steps.  I felt like I was born for this climb.  Maybe it was that runner mentality, but I just wanted to keep going.
The path was nicely manicured, though muddy and slippery after several days of rain. I fell once and covered by jeans and water repellant jacked in red mud.  The rain wasn’t as bad as the 94% humidity when it wasn’t raining.  I was cold and then later once the rain stopped, I was warm.   At one point I was climbing and drenched when I realized that it hadn’t rained in about an hour.  Yep, this moisture soaking me, was all me.

I saw a little rest stop overlooking the valley and I decided to take a break.  As I took my pack off, I realized how hard my heart was beating and how hard the blood was rushing through my body.   I sat and looked out over trees. 

The great thing about being alone is you can go whichever way you want to without asking anyone what they want to do.  The downside is that there nobody to share it with.   I checked my phone and found there was signal, so I Facetimed home so I could show Laura where I was.   That call probably cost a fortune in roaming data fees, but it was worth it (we’ll see when the bill shows).

Eventually the path turned wooden.  The planks above started for some reason in the middle of the trail, I don’t know why.  They started at the exact point where I realized that it was time to turn back.  I didn’t want to turn back, so I kept going a little bit longer.


The Turnaround Point

I came to the sign pictured above about 20 minutes after my turn around alarm went off.   I was a little hungry (I had eaten most of my supplies), but I still had water and lots of energy and I was feeling strong and wanted to keep going up those stairs.  It felt right to just keep going, but it was past time and a lot of things could go wrong so I headed back down the wooden stairs.

At one point, I was about to start a climb up a few hundred steps when another hiker came out of the woods to my right.  There was a narrow trail that I figured would save me from having to make this climb.  It was a great little path and I was doing fine, until it dead ended.  I circled the area around the dead-end several times and checked everything that could have been a trail.   I really didn’t want to double back and then take on that steep climb.   I saw a small scramble up the side of the steep climb.  It wasn’t frequently used, but it had been used.   It was steep, muddy and required hands and feet to get up, but a good 150 feet or so later, I was back on the main trail and working my way back to the temple.


More Stairs


Despite the fact that I didn’t want to take the tram down, at 4pm, it seemed the smart choice.  I bought my tram ticket and enjoyed my last moments on the mountain.

On a clear day, you can stand on Mt. Takao and see over Tokyo all the way to Mt. Fuji. After the clouds broke, this was the best view I was able to see. It was good enough.
The people who I met with the rest of the week were impressed with the fact that I climbed Mt. Takao, even if I didn’t get to the top.   It was a great experience, one I hope to repeat one day soon.

And I want to get to the top.

Travel Day 19: Osaka – Nothing teaches gratitude like not being able to do what one enjoys.

Happy Friday People!

Travel day 19 of 2014 had me waking up at 4:30am in Osaka, Japan after a typical Japanese business dinner.   Japanese sake has no preservatives, so one doesn’t wake up with a headache.  It took about 6 hour and a lot of baby aspirin to relieve the headache I didn’t have.

The meeting for the day took up about four very intense hours and then we went out for lunch (more sushi).  After that, I was free to go back to my hotel.  I packed my bags for tomorrows train trip and decided to take a walk to the nearby Nike Store.

Because it is so humid, I put my running clothes and strapped on my Garmin to take it on a test run.  My Garmin has miraculously recovered from whatever problems it had on Monday when I was in China.  Were I a conspiracy theorist, I would think that maybe the PRC doesn’t want people using unauthorized tracking tools, but that would just be nonsense (This is why they don’t give me access to WordPress in China).

Seems Clear Enough

Streets are a No Smoking Zone

Very quickly, my walk became a run. This was the second run this week and the second since the Big Sur Marathon. I didn’t think the calf would be ready to run again, but it was.    I was able to take some big long strides down the streets of Osaka for as long as my diminished fitness would allow.  It felt wonderful to open up and be able to take a full stride.  City running is fun, except for all the stopping at red lights.

It was about 3km to the Nike Store where I found a few things for the family.  I spent like a billion yen, I’m not sure how much that is in dollars, but I am sure I will hear [it] from my wife the transaction post tomorrow.

One the way home, I saw a Starbucks with a sign for a Marble Carmel frappuccino with JELLY.  Yes, chunks of jelly IN the drink.   Although I am usually a person who goes for the skinny drinks, this had to be tested and it was oh so fun to suck up the jelly.

A Jelly Cappuchino

A Jelly frappuccino and Tiramisu

I think it might have been better as a peanut and jelly frappuccino, but what do I know?  I also had a piece of tiramisu.  Don’t judge, I’ve eaten according to everyone elses rules this week.  In China, one does not eat all the food on the plate at is potentially awkward for the host.  In Japan, one eats whatever is put in front of one whether it is still moving or not.   This was a chance to have just a little moment of self-determination in a week of being a perpetual guest.

As I walked out of Starbucks the skies opened and the rain poured down in buckets.   I ran into a nearby Apple Store to check out the inventory.  It was interesting to see a Japanese Genius Bar and all the users all nicely queued up.

As the storm passed, I made my run back to the hotel.  Surprising the knee and calf did not tighten up as they have during the past six months.  Perhaps this time off from running is helping them recover.   Nothing teaches gratitude like not being able to do what one enjoys.

Siesta in Osaka

Siesta in Osaka

It’s about 7:30pm now. I am packed and ready to hit the road in the morning. I have back to back phone calls with California and Europe starting at 10pm tonight.  But first, I need some dinner.  There is a sushi bar across the street that makes a nice presentation of some good sushi.  As presentation is very important here in Japan, I thought I would share how my dinner was presented.

Presentation of my take-out

Presentation of my take-out

If nothing else, the first work week is over. Tomorrow is a travel day and if the cooperates, Sunday will be a really awesome day.

Peace People!

Travel Day 14 of 2014: A New Adventure

Travel day 14 of 2014 marked the start of another road trip.  Strangely, I found myself on the tarmac of Seoul, Inchon Airport in South Korea. I wasn’t planning on coming to South Korea, but hey, sometime you take a plane, sometime the plan takes you.  A control freak might have a problem with that, but I just found it another airport to check in at on Foursquare.

On a Gate in Inchon/Seoul So. Korea

Unremarkable Tarmac Photo, Inchon/Seoul So. Korea

The 8am flight out of Santa Ana was delayed, but that was no worry. I had a 4 hour layover planned in San Francisco. You might ask why I decided to fly out of San Francisco rather than LA. The answer is that I hate flying international out of LA. San Francisco is much more civilized.

I had planned to spend the time in San Francisco working, but the Yankees were on and there was WiFi. Coupled with the fact that colleagues and running buddies, Natalie was sitting behind home plate, there was no work getting done this Saturday morning.

I recently read an article that seat back pocket was the place on an airplane most prone to bacteria. For this reason, I decided to create the Seat Back Pocket Condom. Designed to keep my stuff free for whatever dirt, grime or bodily fluids might be contained within. You can find one at a grocery store near you.!

The Seat Back Pocket Condom

The Seat Back Pocket Condom


The rain delayed the Yankee game for a short time just as it delayed my arrival in Shanghai 13 hours later. About 10 hours into the 13 hour flight we diverted to Seoul.  When we landed we had no indication how long we would be sitting there. As we approached the runway, we buzzed a few different golf courses.  My first thought was, “They get a lot of rain here”.  Having been raised in the desert and living in drought-strickened California, that was top of mind.  We only spent about an hour on the ground and for the flight 14+ hours in the air.  011

When I applied for my new visa to enter China, I asked for a six-month term with only five days of entry each visit.  They gave me a one-year visa with 90 days each trip.  I am hoping they don’t know something.   After clearing customs, my driver collected my weary bones and delivered me to the hotel.    Happy was I when I heard they had a 24 hour restaurant.  The menu was limited by I ordered the Korean rice with spicy beef and an egg.  There was also a side of kimchi. It was not presented the way I expected and it was spicy.



I think I headed upstairs close to midnight.   A couple joined me on the elevator.  She was Asian, dressed in tight silks and he was probably from India and dressed like an IT guy.  They both spoke English, but they didn’t speak in a way intimate couples or even friends do.   Maybe it was that I grew up in Vegas, but the words, “Shanghai Call Girl” came to mind.    

With crossing the International Date Line my journey started on Saturday at 8am and ended in my hotel about 10pm on Sunday June 1.  I am of the opinion that when you cross the International date line you lose a day that cannot be recoverd by crossing back of the Date Line.   You may get one longer day, but it’s always spent on a plane.

I drafted the first half of this post on the ground in Seoul.  As with my last trip in  China, I had no access to the WordPress website.  I had to wait until I arrived in Japan to even see the draft.    Never underestimate the freedom associated to visit what websites you choose.

Time to go to work.






Bring Back Which America???

You know the good ole days weren’t always good and tomorrow ain’t as bad as it seems”    – Keepin’ the Faith by Billy Joel

Earlier this month, the picture below flashed through my twitter timeline.  At that point,I had no frame of reference for this picture.  I did not mentally connect this image to the #BringBackOurGirls social media movement. I had not seen the Michelle Obama picture which this photo parodied and I didn’t know who Ann Coulter was.   It took me a few minutes of searching this morning to remember her name and find this picture.   Other than watching Larry King, I haven’t spent any remarkable amount of time watching CNN since the network debuted back in the mid 1980’s.  In short, when I saw this picture for the first time, I had no frame of social reference, it was just a lady holding up a sign.

The Infamous Ann Coulter Hashtag

The Infamous Ann Coulter Hashtag

My first reaction to this picture was, “Whose country does this person want to have brought back?”

My father taught me that people change about every 14 years.  Basically, who we are shifts significantly in cycles that end around ages 14, 28, 42, 56, etc.   No so much that we do a Jekyll and Hyde, but we evolve in our thinking and priorities and in how we view the world and the people around us.  Over time, I have come to accept my father’s assertion as generally accurate.

I have also come to suspect that as a nation, America makes that same kind of transition of priorities and focus every seven to nine years.  When America talks about the sixties, we are generally talking not so much about 1960 to 1969, but that period between 1965 and 1972 when we struggled with our national identity on so many levels.  After that 1972 to 1980 was a cycle as was the eight Regan years of the 1980s.  I suspect that the initiation and conclusion of wars reset that 7 year social clock, but that’s a whole different topic.

There are no unmixed blessings as America grows and evolves. Depending on where you sit on the national bus it changes to differing degrees  simultaneously for the better and for the worse.  We get this and we give up that, it’s the way it has been and it will continue to be that way. “So when I play the mental game of who’s America to bring back, I can’t think of a good solution. Would it be the 1950’s when racial segregation was the norm and 36,000 were killed or wounded in Korea?  Umm No.  Would it be the 1960’s when there was talk of peace and love while 57,000 Americans were killed or wounded in Vietnam?  When was that golden era we would one harken to?  Let’s face it, every decade sucked for someone in our country.

There are those that say that if we keep our eyes on God, we won’t have all this change. I think God intentionally put us on a planet that spins on its axis and he expects us to keep up. Change is the norm.  The America prior to 2014 is gone.  These are tomorrows good old days.  We should probably try to make it a rule to be our best right now.

Peace people!

Memorial Day 2014

Let us remember those who have made the ultimate sacrifice and have been put to rest at home and abroad.

Arlington National Cemetary - A Photo by @Britty_Sue

Arlington National Cemetary – A Photo by @Britty_Sue

Let us also acknowledge the special sacrifice made by the conscripted, those that didn’t have a choice but to serve.


And let us never forget that all who served, came home forever altered.



Day 4 – London

<— Day 3

Day 4 was a designated laundry day.  On a two-week trip like this with multiple hotels, laundry days have to be carefully staged.  One needs enough time in a hotel to wash the laundry in the sink and allow it to hang dry.   After everything that needed washing was hung,  I gathered myself for the day and walked over to my sister’s house. We hung out, laughed and listened to the radio while chatting about this and that.   One topic of discussion was an article I read in the Financial Times that morning about how Londoners are getting priced out of the city.   My brother-in-law explained how on the block they live on, several foreign families have come in over the years and just bought up the houses around them.  I noted the concern he had around how many foreigners and are moving to the UK and having multiple children.   My brother-in-law foresees a day in the next 20 years where the Prime Minister would not be Christian.

I showed my sister the pictures from the Rijksmuseum from the day before and she thought it would be a good idea to go to the National Gallery in Trafalgar Square and see a painting of Madam de Pompadour.   So we called up my cousin and made arrangements to meet later on that day.

The Climb Out of the Tube

The Climb Out of the Tube

It took 3 trains to get from my sister’s house into London.  Despite my knee, I decided to take the stairs rather than the escalator to get out to the surface.   Stairs, I do them.

My sister and I had quite a bit of time to kill, so went on a bit of a walk about.   We walked by Big Ben and took pictures along the Thames by Queen Boadicea’s statue.   We stopped at a coffee house and had a quick snack along with some tea.

Queen Boadicea's Statue

Queen Boadicea’s Statue

Further down the road we came across 10 Downing Street, home of the Prime Minister.  I remember going by there as a small boy with my grandmother.  I distinctly remember the police stationed on the street entering Downing street.   Now there are iron gates and barricades to prevent entry.  It reminded me of the first time I saw the street in front of the White House blocked off and concrete k rails. The world has changed since the early 70s.  It’s now a much more safe place for the powerful.

10 Downing Street Locked Away

10 Downing Street Locked Away

We met my cousin at the appointed hour and for the third time, the three of us journeyed into the National Gallery.  Much like the day before at the Rijks,  we quickly found our way to the exquisitely painting of Reinette Poisson, Madame de Pompadour.  It was a beautifully detailed peace that represented all her remarkable skills.  Unlike the Rijksmuseum, the National Gallery has a no photography policy.  Guards are posted in each room to prevent picture-taking.   Before our arrival, someone had touched the painting next to Madam de Pompadour and security was all over closely investigating the incident and inspecting that work.  I watched the guards and I waited while walking the room patiently for the moment that was clearly coming any moment now.  The guards completed their investigation, in unison, they turned their back on Madam de Pompadour. I was ready to steal a half dozen picture on my iPhone. I felt so scofflaw Jack Bauer.

Madam de Pompadoure

Madam de Pompadour

From the museum, we walked back to Covent Garden.  When my cousin was a teenager, he walked so very quickly down the streets of London that it was hard to keep up with him.    Now he is older and slower and needs to take a break every once in a while.   It’s so very strange to see a life cohort slowed by age and infirmity.  Now writing this, I think back to seeing my father in New York just 3 days earlier and how he too needed to sit down and take the occasional breather.   This life is getting real people.   My chief people are old.  Maybe that’s why I climb the stairs when an escalator is nearby.

When we arrived at Covent Garden, we found a little outdoor restaurant.  We ordered pizza and caught up.   At one point, after the food arrived, I opened FourSquare, my major social media vice.  I checked in the place we were eating and then my jaw dropped when I realized that on the list of places immediately near by, was New York’s own Shake Shack!

I passed on the pizza and excused myself from relatives to find the Shake Shack.   I queued up ahead of an English investment banker who was wearing a New York Marathon shirt.   He had run the race two years earlier when he was on assignment in New York.   Both of us were wearing knee braces due to running injuries, so we had a great chat while waiting to place our order.  When I got to the front I ordered a ‘shroom burger, a hamburger not served with mushrooms, but made from a huge Portobello mushroom.   And I ordered a chocolate shake as well.

Shake Shack UK!!!

Shake Shack UK!!!

I took my order back to my sister and cousin who were still working on the pizza.   I had a slice, but there was a lot left.  I asked the waiter if we could get a to go box and he said in an interesting way that would not be possible.  My instincts told me to play this one carefully as I knew I was being lied to.   I turned my head to the side a little bit, maintained a steady tone and inquired why they didn’t have to go boxes.  He explained that it was not their policy to let people take food home.  I smiled and went along with his story, deciding not to push and I thanked him.  About a minute later the waiter came out with a box for us.  He explained that he was not supposed to do this, but because I was nice about it, they could make an exception.  My sister figured that most people would have made a fuss.  Had I done so, he never would have made the extra effort to get us a non-existent box.

The pizza went home with my cousin.   We walked to the nearest bus station and we hugged and said our good-byes.   Then my sister and I made our way back to the Tube and three trains later we were home.  Cups of tea followed and then my brother-in-law dropped me off at my hotel.

My room was clean and the laundry mostly dry.  I had seen two of the relatives most beloved by my mother and closest to me on that side of the family.    I crawled into bed and turned out the lights.   Thus ended my last day on this trip without any work colleagues.   The next day was Monday and it would be time to go to work.

Trip Talley
Days Away 4
Hotels 2
Countries 3
Planes 3
Trains 14
Taxis/Hired Cars 3
Friends/Family Visited 6 + 1 statue


The Homeless Man’s Burden

The 300 pound homeless man with a long white beard reeked of diabetes as he lumbered out of the fast food joint.

His legs were like small white tree trunks and he limped along burdened by the two huge camouflage backpacks.

He had a narrow red walking stick that didn’t support him well enough.

I would have liked to help him carry his load, but for how long?  He was going to have to pick it up eventually.

Unable to think of a way to help this man, I said a prayer and watched him look around deciding which way he wanted to go.

I hope he makes good choices.