Sal's Reflections

I have always loved the expression”Life is more than the number of breaths you take. It is about the things that take your breath away.”It can be a song,a sunset,the love of another,the laughter of a child or so many moments when we experience the beauty of the human experience. Breathing obviously is essential, but it is those peak times when the wonder of our experience is more than the countless routine events of daily life. Those joys are out there waiting for us to plunge into the experiences that fill us with dreams and hope.

A great deal of behavior comes from the beliefs that we have about life and ourselves. Unfortunately many of these beliefs are negative, and may limit new possibilities and choices. If we believe “that nothing works out for us” or that “it is too late to change” or” we somehow don’t deserve a better life then we are limited by these beliefs. It is never too late to alter these and substitute new beliefs that allow more freedom and choices. The past may be an indicator of the future, but it is not absolute. It is remarkable what can happen if we explore what we believe ,and alter the ones standing in the way of a fuller, more rewarding path.

Years ago I made a promise to Viktor Frankl that because I truly knew what happened to him and others I must be a witness. Thanks to my daughter Amy, I will be able to do that at a level where I may be able to reach numerous persons with my knowledge of Viktor and the Holocaust(Shoah). She is building a website that I believe will be an outstanding vehicle to promote the ongoing knowledge that will enable me to fulfill my promise.It will be varied with information about both my novels, and an ongoing source of book reviews,blogs  and links to the wealth of information currently available.

I find that when I am in the presence of someone who has a zest for life I am inspired. It is not always the ones who have ‘life by the tail”, and often it is someone who has or who is struggling against great odds. That is one of the qualities that was so apparent in my mentor Viktor Frankl. Despite the horrors of the concentration camp, and the loss of almost everything he held dear, he had a zest for life that was unquenchable. I hope that all of you have the gift of knowing and experiencing the joy of inspiring people who light up our lives.

I remember my father once said “when you get to a certain age you read the obituaries before you scan the sports pages.” That has been somewhat true for me lately as another friend died on Saturday. Robert”Ropey”Thrunk was a high school friend and an unbelievable athlete. You name the sport, and Ropey excelled without effort, or sometimes without training. The first time he ran the hurdles he won the state championship. The most endearing quality despite all the accolades and glory was his humility. He was an outstanding teammate and friend who never took the fame too seriously. I gather the last part of his life was painful, and I am glad he is no longer suffering. Rest in peace Ropey and thanks for the memories.

In honor of St. Patrick’s day I wish to tell my favorite father in law story. Bud Murray was an exceptionally generous man who never put limits on his wife’s spending. He merely wrote the checks when the monthly bills came to his attention. Little did he know that Dorothy, his wife bought all of the four girls clothing at a lovely shop named “The Geranium Tree”. One day dutifully writing out the checks he was stunned by one large bill. He turned to Dorothy and said “Heavens Dorothy how many Geraniums do we need?”

When my Father went into the hospital years ago for an operation the surgeon was asking him the usual pre-operation questions. My father listened attentively. and then inquired “when I leave the hospital doctor will I be able to play the piano? The doctor quickly assured my father that the operation would not hinder his musical ability. “You will certainly be able to play the piano” he answered with great conviction. My father with a straight face answered “that’s funny I couldn’t play the piano before the operation. “Ever the little boy still resided in him though he was eighty years old. I loved that about him, and hope that I can in some ways retain the silly as well as the serious.

Most of my life I have been blessed by having so many sons and daughter of Irish descent grace my presence. Early on in Jersey City, both in school, and in my neighborhood the most predominant last names originated from the “old Sod”. The journey continued and an Irish lass graced my request to become my wife and in that yes I was granted a new bevy of pilgrims that marched alongside me in this quest to live life to the fullest. In celebration of their wonderful heritage and all they have brought to me, I raise my glass and wish them a happy St. Patrick’s day.

Spent a delightful evening with a book club in Columbia ,Maryland.It was an evening filled with warm,friendly inquisitive persons from different ethnic,professional and cultural backgrounds.As usual the questions explored were invigorating, and every time I am involved with a group I learn something. I look forward to a plethora of such evenings in the future.

I remember waiting outside thePolo Grounds in New York as a young boy hoping to get the autograph of Willie Mays. He was to a six year old boy a knight in shining armor who had the skills of a super star. When he came out of the clubhouse I with my Dad raced with pen in hand to ask for his autograph. He smiled at the crowd, and stayed until each child had received the gift they sought. On the subway going back to Jersey City I stared at my new prize over and over.Last week George Zimmerman whose claim to fame was the following of a Draconian law that snuffed out the life of an teen age boy who was unarmed and had just , and I find this almost incomprehensible. I picture Willie racing around the bases to the sheer delight of the fans and try to comprehend how the image of a young unarmed dead boy on a pavement deserves the signature of the man who took his life.