The Bank of Dad I have a friend named Tad. Tad has had both an easy and difficult life all at once. I wish I was giving you a made-up name, but I’m not. The name Tad sort of reeks of privilege doesn’t it? It’s not quite Bootsy, but it’s right up there screaming White, Anglo-Saxon and Protestant all at once. I’ve known Tad for thirty-five years now. Since he was twenty-five when we met,…
Vacation House Nightmare In the past, I have owned ten vacation homes. That number surprises even me. Given that this was over thirty-five years, that’s an average of 3.5 years per vacation house, which is a pretty meaningless statistic. Right now, I own two, but then again, not really. One is a house in Ithaca that I pre-gifted to Cornell University, so while I control it, I don’t really own it. In another two years…
The Treehouse in 1989 when I was reassigned to Toronto as punishment for a lapse of business judgement, I had gone through a divorce and wanted a home base. I looked for a house within an hour of where the kids lived and that meant either in the City or out in the Hamptons. Ah yes, the famous Hamptons, playground to the rich and famous of Manhattan and the share-house capital of the east coast.…
Writ Large Paul could not turn on cable news without hearing the term “writ large” over and over again. It is used to mean clear and obvious in context, and sometimes even a fully exaggerated form. The reason for Paul hearing this term being overused is a function of the goings on in Washington D.C. At this time of year, cherry blossoms are writ large all over the capital. One of Paul’s favorite movies was…
The Moment of Truth I have, for some reason, made a habit of living on the brink, usually looking squarely into the abyss. This has not been a life decision, but it does seem to be a career decision. I do not want to talk about the exact nature of the abyss I am looking into at the moment but suffice it to say that the fork in the road is rather dramatic. One route…
The Art of the Option Back in 1982 I was in an unusual position. All of my peers at my bank aspired to be line division managers. That was the traditional path to glory and was the first really important middle-management job tier. I had been jammed up with all my peers as a team leader of an important group of clients. I had two junior bankers working for me and a stable of big…
The Perils of the Pen I have been writing short stories for almost thirty years and have quite a collection. I have published them on story websites, I have published them in a book where I wove them together into a thematic storyline, I have even sent one off to a contest and had it made into a TV movie segment. The short story is my preferred form of writing because I have more than…
The Rules of the Game Winston put on his floppy sun hat, slid his fanny pack around to the back, put on one more application spf 30 lip balm, grabbed his walking stick and headed out for his morning walk. Winston was 73 and had been retired for over five years now. He had no particular long-term goals for himself other than staying as healthy as he could for as long as he could. While…
The Prophet of Park Avenue Russ was a high flyer. He had navigated the corridors of power on Wall Street with great aplomb. He had been at the bank for seventeen years, had had only one misstep from which he had recovered, and was back on the rocket path to the Management Committee of the bank. He had recently been given the assignment to run the Global Private Banking business, which was a large sprawling…
Stone Cold Panic Pete sat in his office and stared at his cup of ice and his bottle of flavored water. The brand was Poland Spring. Most people know nothing about Poland Spring and probably don’t even realize it’s a real place. Pete knew all about Poland Spring. He had lived there for three years back in the 1960’s. Poland Spring was a symbol of the transformation of life to Pete and it all scared…