Who says you can’t come home again? Whomever it is will get a vigorous argument from me.  I’m home.  Put me in Coach I’m ready to play!

How often do you wish you could be in two places at the same time? Last weekend, we were supposed to be in Washington for an Crafts Fair and in New York City for the Annual Gathering of Holocaust Remembrance. We had a tradition of attending both; however, this year both fell on the same weekend. We stayed in New York and attended the Annual Gathering. We lit a candle with Mom.

This is a blog of few words because I can’t find the words. Pittsburgh, New Zealand, Poway. And that’s the short list.

  As some of you may know, my daughter had been in the hospital for several weeks. She’s a soccer goalkeeper and broke her femur while playing (yes, she made the save). Her injury entailed extensive surgery plus numerous weeks of rehabilitation.    

Just concluded a week of exploration. Sort of. Marisa and Shelly explored Paris. The dad and husband visited mom in Florida. So while my daughter and wife took in The Louvre, The Musée d’Orsay, Eifel Tower and Versailles and its adjoining villas and getaway spots, between various appointments for mom, I found some time to explore where friends made their home away from home.

I don't know his name but everyone calls him Chief. He sits outside my local 7-11 on the side and greets everyone within hearshot with either How ya doin today? or Change!?!   Yes, he's a begger. Every so often I give him my pocket change however I'm now wondering if I should.   Last week while walking to my car, I turned around and saw him looking at his smart phone. He quickly put it away and smiled at me. Am I to conclude he's begging for money to pay his phone bill?  

One of my earliest memories is hiding my eyes, looking away and cowering behind a movie seat upon watching the appearance of the Wicked Witch of the West in the Wizard of Oz with my mother.  Truth be told, the shock and horror has never left me.   I looked away and my over stimulated youthful imagination nearly destroyed me.  The same thing happened years later while watching Psycho.  

There were nine of us around the conference table. As the meeting came to a close, we decided to schedule another meeting. Six smartphones appeared. Two laptops were opened. And my Personal Pocket Journal came out of my pocket. Yes, I have my iPhone and there’s a calendar application that links to my office calendar and our family “shared” calendar. But I have never been able to give up my Personal Pocket Journal.