Politics

Drunken Raccoon

By Rich Marin | by Rich Marin

For some time now, we’ve been watching the somewhat normal process of the rebalancing of the political landscape in the United States from conservative Republicanism to Democratic collectivism. I know we like to label things in this country and the favorite labels these days include fascism, communism, socialism, and any other handy isms. But the big picture fundamental is best captured as the generic labels of conservativism versus collectivism. This morning on CNN International, there…

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Fiction/Humor Love Memoir

Traveling While Aged

By Rich Marin | by Rich Marin

As most people who read this blog know, I am traveling in Europe at the moment, heading back to New York City tomorrow to spend a few days with the family in Midtown Manhattan to celebrate the holidays and then head back to our hilltop to dig in for the full holiday season. I have written often about the angst we have about traveling as the years pass by. I get regularly chided by friends…

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Memoir

Christmas Up The Wazoo

By Rich Marin | by Rich Marin

It’s December and we’re in Prague, where the temperature is hovering in the 30s day and night. We aren’t in this sort of weather very often these days, but so far it feels more invigorating than oppressive (being fully clothed in coats, hats and gloves). I suspect that has a lot to do with the fact that we’re only here for a few days and it’s always easier to dip in to inclement weather and…

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Memoir

Prague-nosis

By Rich Marin | by Rich Marin

When my mother died at 100, eight years ago, I wrote her biography and called it Mater Gladiatrix. That title spoke to me because of my four years of Latin (which she strongly encouraged me to take) and the strength and resilience that she exhibited fearlessly throughout her life, both in her personal and professional demeanor. As a courtesy to my two older sisters, I sent them a semi-final draft of the book and the…

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Fiction/Humor Memoir Politics

Venezuela On My Mind

By Rich Marin | by Rich Marin

I have a long and involved affiliation with Venezuela. In 1946, my mother, at the age of thirty, “joined the Foreign Legion” by hiring on to the Rockefeller Foundation to go to Venezuela to do rural indigenous development work. She was literally choosing to escape a turbulent five years on both the global and personal fronts and trade in her decade of work with the New York State Welfare Department for a new adventure. After…

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Memoir

Train Travel Time

By Rich Marin | by Rich Marin

This trip that we are on with the people from Steam Dreams, that run special steam locomotives throughout the United Kingdom for both day trips and multi day excursions, has been a very interesting trip for us. To begin with they have gathered, in addition to a series of well recognized steam locomotives, an older traditional set of train cars that they have retrofitted with quaint plush seating arrangements configured as dining cars. In the…

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Fiction/Humor Memoir

Hat Trick

By Rich Marin | by Rich Marin

Back in the 1800s on some obscure cricket field, when a bowler achieved the rare feat of taking three wickets with three consecutive deliveries, he was traditionally awarded a new hat from his club, or allowed to pass around his hat to collect money from spectators. Then in hockey (among other sports), the term became a big celebratory moment… literal hats rain down onto the ice from the crowd when a player scores three goals…

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Business Advice Memoir

On the Waterfront

By Rich Marin | by Rich Marin

In 2011, while I was trying to launch a hedge fund that would have bought defaulted mortgages from the FHA at levels attractive for them and, we thought, very attractive for us. We had an enlightened plan to fix a lot of the broken mortgages that were the detritus of the subprime collapse. It seemed both noble and profitable and our story was compelling enough to attract $1.5 billion in capital from one of the…

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Memoir

Caledonian Christmas Run

By Rich Marin | by Rich Marin

Yesterday we arrived in London, direct from San Diego (I am still in awe of that direct connection) to a cold, but uncommonly sunny city. We chose to bypass the tube and splurge on a London Taxi ride since it was midday, mid-week and traffic was light and the weather pleasant. It was so easy at Heathrow that I wondered why JFK could not make the same accommodation for weary travelers? All I could think…

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