David Past 50

When my father passed away, my mother asked me to write a tribute to him.  Doing so was extraordinarily cathartic and helped me through a difficult time.  Despite that, it was not an easy decision to do the same thing upon my mother’s passing.  Where my father had the overblown traits of a fictional character, she was far more nuanced and I was concerned that I might not see my Mom the same way my siblings had.   Because of that, I drafted a tribute and asked my sister Joan to edit and enhance my thoughts.  The result of that process is what follows. This small passage was extremely painful to compose.  I had the time to more leisurely craft Arthur’s tribute and I’d catch myself  laughing aloud as I recounted the stories of his life.   More to the point, that experience was made easier by my mother’s presence, her guidance, her suggestions and her appreciation for the finished product.  This time I shed tears through every page...

I’ve seen toughness in many forms.  Having spent most of my professional life around athletes, my rolodex includes names like Cal Ripken Jr., who famously played 2,632 baseball games without taking a day off; Willis Reed, named NBA Finals MVP after dragging a barely functional right leg up and down the Madison Square Garden court in a storied Game 7 victory; “world’s strongest man” and WWE superstar Mark Henry; and NFL wide receivers like Mike Quick, Cris Carter and Tim Brown, each of whom ran fearlessly across the middle of the field in a job defined by continual brutality, frequent pain, and occasional debilitating injuries. But the toughest athletes I know are often draped in lavender and violet spandex and tend to leave a trail of sequins and rhinestones in their wake.  One of them is my own daughter.  She is a baton twirler and she is an absolute beast.    Sure, we can quibble over the definition of “tough”.   If someone slam...