How Jimmy Buffett, Golf and Spotify Saved My Life (or at least my Summer of 2020)

Life on the Flip Side

From October 2017 through September 2018 my life was a blur of horrible events starting with my brother’s sudden passing continuing through the following summer with Marie’s undiagnosable illness. In another part of the world Bono was chronicling his own illness (never formally disclosed) and fears in an album entitled Songs of Experience. I played that CD religiously in the Subaru on my daily 48-mile one-way commute to Newark, Delaware through snowy, rainy and sunshine filled days wondering if Marie would live to see our daughter get married.

On June 13, 2018, Marie and I “experienced” the U2 concert stop in Philly.  Two months earlier, Marie’s doctors finally figured out what was wrong with her. We’ve seen every U2 tour/show together since 1987. It was at this show where we could finally exhale! Marie was going to be okay. We cautiously moved forward (again) forever grateful!

“If there is a dark. Now we shouldn't doubt. And there is a light. Don't let it go out.” 13 (There is a Light) U2.

In the spring of 2019, my Fortune 20 employer would announce layoffs. Having seen this “movie” before, I networked my nearly 60-year old accountant “ass” off and landed a job in Philly just before the hammer fell. I had survived another Corporate America “restructuring”. Around this time, Bruce Springsteen released a solo album entitled Western Stars. An album influenced by that Southern California 70s “Pop” music sound with themes of chasing old ghosts, isolation and dreams never realized.

Like the U2 album, I could not stop listening to these highly confessional songs. To celebrate our 37^th wedding anniversary on (10/23/19) we had dinner with two dear couples. Afterwards we all attended the Springsteen World Premier of the Western Stars (movie) in Burlington before the movie’s official public release date. Surrounded by good friends, that special evening ended a difficult previous 24 months for S&M. Or so we thought….

"We headed down to Baja in the desert, we made our stand of it. Figured maybe together we could get the broken pieces to fit.” Drive Fast (The Stuntman), Bruce Springsteen.

Enter 2020.

Lauren and Brian got engaged in August 2019 with a Destination Wedding in Mexico planned for June 2021. I was enjoying a new F/T job that (finally) has the potential to be my last one. We were booked to cruise the Caribbean with Marie’s family to celebrate her 60^th birthday in July. My new freelance career as a Travel Agent was booming with 14 client trips booked from May 2018 through October 2019. Marie and I had come out from the other side wiser and extremely grateful!

Enter this thing called COVID-19.

Enter Jimmy Buffett and his new album of Beach & Life reflections entitled Life on the Flip Side.

As a small consolation prize, (2) free Buffett CDs arrived in my mailbox this May as part of a promotion for purchasing tickets to the annual Jimmy Buffett “Adult Carnival” in Camden, New Jersey which was cancelled due to Coronavirus.

Like the two aforementioned CDs, Life on the Flip Side struck a chord with me that was deeper than just cool beach/life inspired music and lyrics.

Marie remarked, “I’ve never seen you play a CD as much as this one.”  She was right!

I thought, I cannot let this global pandemic paralyze me. I was scared of course, but I was also suddenly awakened. There’s so much more Marie and I want/need to do, see and experience. We are both ‘very close’ to closing out our corporate careers and launching our 2^nd Act! It is time for our response. It is time to hatch our Plan B.

We are moving ahead with listing our house (originally started in February), downsizing into the “Condo Life” where somebody else does all the maintenance, as well as exploring a potential F/T existence at the Shore at some point down the road.

On Father’s Day, we booked a trip to Colorado in September 2021 to hike the Rockies (hiking is a shared passion) and experience a Jimmy Buffett concert at Red Rocks, crossing off that item on the S&M Bucket List. In fact, I already have my “Coconut Bra” (which I found this weekend while purging the home) to commemorate the occasion. We also booked a trip to Key West this Christmas through New Year’s Eve (keeping our fingers crossed) to ring in 2021.  It is a year in which I pray we can all move forward. In 2022, we will travel back to the Islands to celebrate “40” years of S&M.

Like an instructional language tape played on “repeat”, these songs reinforced a deep desire within me to attain THAT life we’ve always dreamed of. A dream hatched during those early days of living in that cramped apartment in Lindenwold. Our time is now. It is not WHEN the world survives this pandemic. It is not AFTER Lauren and Brian get married. It is not AFTER we “retire”. Sickness, unemployment, misfortune, and death follow no specific timeline and neither should we. I’ll repeat that for the folks in the back of the auditorium. Our time is now!

If you wait for the perfect wave (which doesn’t really exist) you’re gonna miss some other really ‘tasty’ rides. I’ve decided I ain’t missing ‘em.  Listening to this collection of songs, I’ve found the secret pirate’s map of treasures. Not trinkets of stuff, but a booty of places and things I still wish to experience.

“You know if I hadn’t lived it. I’ve read it myself. Tellin’ tall tales is still good for my health. Keep movin’ and listen’ and amusin’ myself. I’m not ready to put the book on the shelf.” Book on the Shelf ~ Jimmy Buffett.

Golf is a Good Walk Spoiled

That’s what Harry Leon Wilson wrote nearly a decade before World War I about this activity some folks call “Sport”.

However, after this summer, I would argue with Mr. Wilson.

Inexplicably, golf is one sport where the frustration level can be maddening. Don’t believe me. Check out the legendary comedian Robin William’s take on how the game was invented here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Y3MpFaq0EM

So when my neighbor Ziggy asked me to join a summer golf league you can imagine my trepidation. 

But frankly, what else could I do with my time, while trying to deal with this sudden COVID “House Arrest” scenario thrust upon me? The timing was perfect, mid-week tee time on Wednesday at 4:50pm for the next 10 weeks. I can skip out of work early and chase that little white ball between trees, over lakes and beyond sand traps. Into my golf bag, I loaded my mask, hand sanitizer and alcohol wipes next to my tees and balls and hit the links.

Scaping off the rust, my first couple of rounds were ugly, but we dropped the worst two player scores per hole and three worst holes of the round to arrive at our weekly team score. Early in the season, the Golden Bears (named in honor of Jack Nicklaus) found ourselves at the top of the Leaderboard for Flight B in spite of my posted scores.

A fun routine soon developed. Tuesday night, I would put aside my golf outfit, power bars, water and my lucky golf cap in anticipation of hanging with the boys in less than 24 hours. Even Marie, could see my demeanor improving week after week regardless of how many double-bogeys I recorded.

Arriving home after our match, I would regal her with some of the funniest “you had to be there” golf stories of unbelievable shots and even crazier banter amongst me and my teammates.  She nodded and smiled graciously as we sat down to watch some early evening TV. Suddenly my never-ending work week did not feel as insurmountable as I thought it would be a mere 24 hours ago.

At this stage in my life, it’s no longer about what score I post after nine holes, but more importantly the chance to swing my five wood (sometimes multiple times on the same hole!) and “break balls” with my friends posing as teammates.

And when your brain and body (actually) execute that shot you have planned for, well….. it’s still a thrill for this Old Man Golfer.  And that exact feeling and sound the ball makes coming off the club is why you come back week after week, round after round, course after course.

We should never stop chasing perfection whether it is hitting a perfect draw (shot) past the fairway bunker and landing on the green in regulation or anything else in our professional or personal pursuits. 

As long, as we continue to chase that dream shot, we remain in the match until our final hole is played out.

“Golf is the closet game to the game we call life. You get bad breaks from good shots, you get good breaks from bad shots – but you have to play it where it lies.” ~ Bobby Jones.

Groovin’ to the Beat of a Different Drummer

I’m not sure what the #cherokee5 found more unbelievable that last time we gathered pre-COVID:

A. I still listen to CDs.

B. I have no music on my phone.

C. I still have (and listen to) a functioning iPod.

D. All of the above.

If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, I would reply in a feeble attempt to defend my minority view position.

In a series of text messages as spring turned into summer, it was decided, we would (Finally!) compile our Top 20 Led Zeppelin songs creating our Dream Led Zep playlist posting our final results on Spotify to end this 40 year debate, once and for all.

Cool.

I would finally ‘school’ my friends on not only on the best twenty LZ tracks, song sequence and encore selections, but create THE Ultimate Led Zeppelin CD mix that was never (but should have been) issued by Swan Songs Records.

Wait? What’s Spotify?

When the laughter finally subsided (and yes - I ‘could hear’ the snickering and disbelief) written with each text message. I uploaded the App and begun the task at hand.

As Father’s Day approached, Lauren asked what I would like for a Father’s Day gift.  Clearly not needing anymore stuff at this age, coupled with the fact that Marie and I had already begun purging “crap” from 8 Meadow Drive anticipating listening our home in the fall, I did not respond.

However, when Lauren sent me a gentle ‘reminder text’ before leaving for her planned trip to Tennessee, I decided I would ask her for a Bluetooth Tiki Speaker.  This way, I could blast my epic Led Zeppelin mix to all the houses at Doc & Wendy’s lake house, turning on the Hideout Lake Community to the Greatest Rock & Roll Band of all-time!

Within a few short weeks, my Spotify music library grew to 15 playlists with names such as: 20 Coolest Tom Petty Songs You Never Heard Of, Acoustic Sunday – Volumes 1-3, Bruce & Me – First 40 Years, Good Karma 2U, I’m One – Different Drummer, Laurel Canyon Sound, Lost in the 70s – Have a Nice Day, Sounds of Philly Soul and Yacht Rock – My Top 20.

My Spotify library now contains over 50 playlists.  Check me out at ScottyK.

Recently, I started walking mornings before I begin my work from home daily routine. I now grab my phone which is full of a couple thousand cool tunes to help me start my day, later posting my walk route/fave tunes/photos on my Strava exercise App.  

When Marie and I vacationed down the Shore two weeks ago, we awoke each morning to beautiful Brigantine sunrises and DJ – ScottyK’s - Best of Spotify tunes.

This new Tech is sick.

Remember when we turned on our friends to new albums and bands and in turn, they turned us on to what they were liking and listening to.

Maybe you can teach an old dog some new tricks, after all.

Thanks boys!  And thank you Lauren & Brian for the Tiki Speaker!

Maybe Venmo is my immediate future?

COVID may have changed the world forever, but even this 100-year global pandemic cannot change the fact that music and shared experiences with friends can overcome anything, anyplace, anytime.

Thank God!

“Music after all is the background score to our lives, not merely surviving in our memory banks long after so many of our other seemingly stronger memories have faltered, but serving to remind us of who we were at a given moment of our lives, where we were, what we dreamed of, what we feared and of course, who we loved.” Liner notes - Best of Simon & Garfunkel

ScottyK

Moorestown, New Jersey (for now)

Labor Day Weekend 2020

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Summer Girl

My Summer Girl

“I have watched you on the shore. Standing by the ocean's roar. Do you love me, do you surfer girl?” ~ the Beach Boys.

Brian Wilson had his Surfer Girl. I have my Summer Girl. I’ll call it a draw.

It’s not officially summer until I can sneak a peak at Marie’s celestial sun tattoo as it peers out from one her cute summer dresses sitting between her shoulder blades near the nape of her neck.  As an homage to her love of summer, light and the beach she opted for this image to commemorate birthday #40.

This past week found S&M down the Shore in Brigantine, New Jersey for birthday #60.

We should have been celebrating her milestone birthday with her family in the warm Caribbean waters nearly 1,300 miles from the AC Expressway exploring Turks & Caicos, Sint Maarten and some other cool tropical islands. It turns out the world had its own plans this year. Our Plan B was here. Back to where it all started nearly 30 years ago in this quiet beach community just north of Atlantic City. Sometimes you can go home again.

While my summer romance with Marie started in 1979.  Our summer romance with Brigantine started in the late 80’s.

Those pre-Lauren summers in our 20s were defined by Buffett and Brigantine. It was our unique definition of “Summer” that only a few close friends could comprehend. Let me try and explain….

In the Spring of 1988, we moved back home to South Jersey and settled in Magnolia. A few weeks before Memorial Day that year, Marie drove to the Island to purchase our seasonal beach tags saving us ‘homeowners’ with a new monthly mortgage bill a couple of bucks. From Monday through Friday, we would take PATCO into Center City working for the “Man”. On the weekends, we were fixing up our first ‘starter’ home.  Starting our modest version of the “American Dream”.  Remember that?

However, every other Saturday or Sunday, we would play hookey, pack up our brand-new gold Honda Accord with our beach toys (remember Pro Kadima?) and head east on the (White Horse) Pike. Two “Shoobies” in search of our personal Endless Summer down the Jersey Shore decades before that MTV series would premier. Our final destination was 14th Street South, Brigantine Beach.

Walking around the downtown area after the rains subsided this past Sunday afternoon, Marie recalled when she and Lauren would head to the Brigantine Inn mid-week. She would pack up the Accord with my Grandmom Martino’s ugly but functional “Granny Cart”. Marie would then drag that cart overflowing with all the necessary beach supplies towards the beach while precariously holding Laur’s hand at all the crosswalks. When I arrived home from work that night, they would regal me with stories of their daily beach adventures, our bathroom decorated with wet bathing suits and brightly colored beach towels. I must admit, working for the “Man” that day, made sense to me.

Winters have always been tough for Marie as she’s battled Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) for many years. SAD is a type of depression that typically occurs in the late fall and continues through late spring. The lack of natural sunlight for certain folks causes the blues, loss of energy and apathy. As the sun returned to New Jersey with one extra minute per day starting with the Vernal Equinox annually in March, Marie slowly came back to life. As a result, we’ve always celebrated the end of Spring as our Summer Homecoming.

Needing a break from the Corporate Rat Race and the responsibilities that came with our new title of Homeowners, we booked our very first international trip to Mexico, March 1990. We bought resort wear from Bambergers (long gone, store), splurged on some tanning sessions (friends told us we needed a base tan traveling that far south, that early in the season), traded in our USD for Mexican pesos and headed south in a wicked snow storm on that Friday morning flight from PHL. We climbed Chitchen Itza (can’t do that anymore), snorkeled in Cozumel, rented mopeds (thankful Marie survived her wipeout navigating that roundabout).

Traveling abroad in our 20s, we were hooked. But we were “cash poor” homeowners who desperately wanted to start a family at 422 West Jackson Avenue. So, we would continue to visit Brigantine each summer. You can only be as slave to your new home for so long and remain sane. Every other weekend we would pack up our stuff and head to the Island for a much needed 12-14 hours of “Beach Therapy”.

Like a junkie needing his next fix, we craved the beach “high” these trips would provide. Each visit would help us balance our intertwined lives as we reflected on our demanding roles of parent, worker and spouse. We would walk that beach, sit in our beach chairs and temporarily escape the world back on the Mainland. Marie loved those day trips. And I loved her.

These brief hours represented the best prescriptions the best doctors in the world could never fill. The worries of our world floated out with low tide. When our fears arrived with the high tide, they were somehow less worrisome. That my friends, is the magic you experience down the Shore.  The ocean offers a unique life perspective that doesn’t exist back on the Mainland. Sometimes, you just need a Pirate’s map to find your individual ‘treasures’.

Another decade would pass us by. We would celebrate our 15^th wedding anniversary chasing the origin of all those Jimmy Buffett songs ‘island hopping’ down in the Caribbean. Pirate booze cruises, helming the 1984 (actual) America’s Cup sailing yachts (Master and Primary Grinders, respectively) and of course nearly missing the cruise ship while docked in St. Thomas were just a few stories we still laugh about. A few years later we would head to Grand Cayman for Christmas through New Years Eve. There was this thing called Y2K that threatened to end the world over some misplaced ones and zeroes. Marie thought I was crazy. I was. But I reasoned, if you only get to celebrate one Millennium in your lifetime, Seven Mile Beach was fine by me. How much fun did we have with Laur? Dancing on the beach when January 1, 2000 arrived. Another couple of adventures Marie and I laughed about this past weekend.

Suddenly college tuition and home improvement bills arrived in our mailbox at 8 Meadow Drive. So once again we returned to Brigantine. This time, I would book long weekends down here in August to celebrate Marie’s birthday. We extended the length of our visits which seemed to coincide the additional stresses of a new decade. These weekend trips greatly helped us survive this “Hamster Wheel” existence of our early 50s we had suddenly become unwillingly participants in. 

From the corner of my eye, I could see Marie begin to exhale as the Subaru approached the causeway bridge leading onto the Island. Instinctively, I rolled down the car windows to inhale that warm salt air. It immediately breathed life into our aching bodies and minds. We both knew we were home. Within a mere 24 hours, Marie was a different sea creature, alive and smiling. I was too. She was upbeat, full of energy and yes occasionally - even funny. I was the benefactor of this seismic shift in moods. The laughter and smiles came effortlessly. I was the luckiest bean-counter you would ever meet. 

We passed a new restaurant on the island advertising the best fish tacos in town. I remarked that no fish tacos will ever beat those we enjoyed in Laguna Beach during those two weeks we spent traveling through California celebrating my 50^th birthday. Marie smiled. The three of us (my family) had ‘finally’ made it out to the Left Coast that year, 2012. Hiking Joshua Tree and Yosemite, driving through Big Sur, hanging out in LA, concluding our trip in San Francisco and Napa. There is this photo of Marie and Lauren sitting on the back on our rented Mustang convertible having just concluded the 17 Mile Drive through Carmel and Pebble Beach. When I think of that summer road trip, I think of that photo and smile.

All those fantastic trips we were fortunate to share have somehow always led us back here……..

It’s Friday morning already. It’s time to go home. It came so fast. It always does.

I’m sitting alone in my Lifeguard Station tower watching the bright orange sun begin its daily arc into the pale blue sky when these and other summer memories of our past 40 years came rushing into my mind, like these green waves crashing in front of me right now. Given the current state of the world, I’m grateful we could spend your annual trip around the sun “Birthday Week” on a beach. I know now, what I thought I knew then - this is your favorite place in the world. You were born to live on a beach. I was born to be with you. You will always be my Summer Girl.

I’m thankful for all those other (in between) ‘milestone birthdays’ we’ve spent together grinding out a life’s existence of daily mundane chores and shared life experiences where the good times easily outnumbered the bad times. Examining our 40-year ledger, we’ve had one helluva a run. We’ve come a long way from that cramped one-bed apartment in Lindenwold. A poor college student and his always supportive Donut Hutch working waitress. But most of all I’m grateful for sharing a bed with you at the end of long days eager to greet the next day’s sunrise together, even if that ‘morning after’ included so many more rainy days that we never planned on.

I’ll walk on this beach with you until we can’t.

I would erase all your current fears if I could. New beginnings are scary the older we get, but rest assured there is nothing we can’t do together. Look at all we’ve weathered together so far. We always figured out a Plan B, in some cases a Plan C. COVID or not, this time will be no different.

Now - Let’s have some fun with these remaining unknown number of years left. Lauren’s found an amazing man who will protect her and love her forever. These kids will be fine. Another blessing duly noted. We are well into triple digits by now.

So, take my hand. Our someday starts today.

I was never so sure of this one thing, as I was on that crisp South Jersey fall afternoon, October 23, 1982.

It’s our time now.

“So whatever thrills you. Anything you love to do. Just say someday (we) will.” ~ Jimmy Buffett

Scott & Marie

14^th Street South

Brigantine Beach

#lovinglifeat60

PS – Thanks, Joe.

The Next 20

We were pulling out of the driveway heading to Ott’s when Marie turned to me and said, “You know 20 years ago this week we moved into our house”.

No sooner had those words left her lips and vanished into the air did I recall that exact memory and for the next few miles while we drove to the local bar I smiled as my mind floated effortlessly back through time.  

I remember that being an unusually cold week leading up to Halloween.  We took possession of our new home on a Friday night, however all of our worldly possessions would not arrive until Saturday morning.  That first night we packed up our Honda Accord with blankets, pillows, and some of Lauren’s favorite toys and stuffed animals.  She was three years old.  That night we set up base camp on the beige rug in the big empty family room.  We huddled close to the fireplace, which of course we could not operate since we had no wood or fire irons.  The early sun shone through the white French doors the next morning and eventually the moving van arrived from Magnolia with all of all favorite things inside.

Eight Meadow Drive now lays claim to being the tax address where I have lived over half of my adult life since my college days at Rutgers ended in 1984.  Oh if these walls could only talk?  This white center hall colonial on the cul-de-sac has watched Marie and I become first-time parents in our 30s, struggle with the stress and uncertainty of middle-age in our 40s and now contemplate our quasi-retirement and our family’s next steps while entering our mid-50s.

As husband and wife, we laughed and loved, cried and worried, and planned and dreamed within these four walls.  As a family unit, we watched as the seasons turned on the kitchen calendar each year.  I can remember watching Lauren walk across our front lawn with her back pack which was almost as big as she was to the bus stop waiting for the bus to take her to South Valley Elementary School.  She was a fourth grader.  I blinked and we were suddenly packing up our Subaru Forrester with her favorite belongings driving her north on Route 295 to Rider University.  She was now a college freshman.  I blinked one more time and yesterday she was driving her yellow VW Bug going to work at the New Albany Elementary School.  She is now a first grade teacher.

Family and friends would gather annually for birthdays, Easter dinner, Marie’s Crabfest on Labor Day weekend, Thanksgiving dinner as well as other assorted gatherings and dinner parties the rest of the year.  Macey, our family dog, would come into our lives in 2002.  Then there was the time our house was struck by lightning and thankfully the only thing we lost was our old SONY TV which was long overdue to be upgraded anyway.  The winter that rogue squirrel terrorized us living in our attic.  Our formal living room (aka Lauren’s Toy Room) where her doll houses, play forts and imagination lived when she was a toddler.  When she outgrew those toys, we were going to purchase ‘adult’ furniture and properly furnish this room.  Of course, that never came to pass, as it currently serves to hold our inventory of old photo albums, shelves of CDs, DVDs, craft supplies and my surfboard.  I can recall the small back bedroom which frightened Lauren when she was in kindergarten forcing us to move her ‘things’ to the bedroom at the front of the house.

There were summers eating dinners outside on the large slate patio after work watching the sun go down and winter afternoons building snowmen and playing with Macey in the fresh powder.  She learned to ride her bike on the tennis court and played with neighbor kids on the backyard swing set.  And just a few months ago, a rather large tree limb landed on the roof over where Marie and I sleep together each and every night.  Again, like a cat with nine lives, we escaped serious danger once again.  We were fortunate to live in a wonderful community of nationally accredited Blue Ribbon public schools, a sleepy Main Street thoroughfare and a town where our only daughter found her true love when these kids met five years ago at the local public high school.  Looking back, we had a great run in this home.

But the time has come to move on from this great old house and make plans for the next 20 years……

We have started to purge our personal belongings and fix-up some rooms in the upstairs part of the house.  We have a long way to go as you fellow homeowners know, 20 years is a long time.  The plan remains to live near the ocean.  To live in a place where we all gather each night (together) under the night skies.  A small home with minimum upkeep so that we can maximize the unknown hours, days, weeks, months and years that lie ahead.  

Someplace that we can all live together comfortably marking the milestone events ahead.  A place to come back to after we travel abroad.  A warm and happy place to live our lives instead of worrying about the upkeep and maintenance of owning a home stealing our precious time.  Time that has become appreciably less than what we all started out with on this journey.  Plans that include working multiple entrepreneurial pursuits, enjoying the outdoors, no longer waking to an alarm clock having to work for someone else, doing something we no longer have a passion for.   All of us living a life instead of merely existing in a life.

So here I sit in transition this morning, enjoying the bittersweet emotions of facing the end of an era and the excitement of starting something new.   

May our next 20 years be filled with patience, understanding, laughter and love which have greatly helped us make it through the first 20 years.  We all know by now that the future is fickle and works according to its own agenda and timeline.  All the planning in the world will never completely prepare us for what lies ahead as the wise old idiom states “failing to plan is just like planning to fail”.

The accountant in me has been trained to measure and mark my progress, while the artist in me yearns to explore, grow and follow my true bliss.  Because this time of the year nicely coincides with a forced closure on the last 365 days, today serves as timely reminder to commit to the goal ahead while mapping out the necessary little steps that will ensure a long-term success.

There a dream I can see in my mind’s eye that I can’t (and won’t) shake.  It’s a short video of my family and next generation of Kerns enjoying sun drenched days by the ocean not just during our typical summer months down the Jersey Shore, but year-round.

We’ll keep you all posted on our progress and send you all postcards when we arrive wherever we are destined to live our next 20 years…….

~The Kern Family

Scott & Marie and Lauren & Brian

One week before Christmas 2015

In God's Country

In God’s Country 

Desert sky
Dream beneath a desert sky
The rivers run but soon run dry
We need new dreams tonight

“In God’s Country” ~ U2

When most first time tourists arrive in The Meadows (aka Las Vegas) they are all set to explore The Strip or perhaps Old Las Vegas on Fremont Street; ready to eat, gamble and party the days and nights away.  Since there is absolutely nothing in Vegas that cannot be had for enough money or time this seemed like The Plan.  To lose yourself in the splendor, decadence and excess that defines Sin City seemed like the way to go.  To escape the reality of a boring routine filled existence back home seemed like the opportunity of a lifetime.

However, Lauren and I had different a plan.

We looked at this trip as a unique opportunity over five days to visit four states, sample three vastly different and majestic national parks, with two cameras and one vision.  To photograph Wild America!  We reasoned when we returned nightly to the city from the desert we would have plenty of time to explore the bars and wedding chapels, chuckle at the Elvis imperators and stand in awe at the man-made towers built in homage to the gods of Greed and Capitalism.

I'm leaving Las Vegas
I'm leaving Las Vegas
For good, for good

“Leaving Las Vegas” ~ Sheryl Crow

Each morning, we walked past the late night gamblers stumbling in a drunken stupor trying to find their rooms and the early morning workers who readied the Golden Nugget for another day of glitz and glory.  We looked out of place in our hiking boots and backpacks filled with bottled water, trail mix and maps.  With our cameras slung over our shoulders, our imaginations raced in anticipation of what we would see and photograph beyond this urban sprawl out on the open road.

Lauren was the driver.  She navigated the twisting and turning Interstate highway roads that at times seemed to disappear into the cavernous mountainside switchbacks.  Monitoring the GPS coordinates she would call out the exit numbers and remaining miles left until we crossed the approaching state line. 

I was the passenger.  My primary duty consisted of leaning outside the car and photographing the scenery at 75 miles an hour trying to balance my cell phone in close proximity to the hood of the car imitating a GoPro.  I also had the responsibility of programming my iPod carefully selecting songs that attempted to capture the mood both inside and outside of our rental car as we raced by wind turbines, buffalo, overhead power lines and trains.  We were a couple of modern day cowboys riding this pure white gleaming 2015 Dodge Charger disappearing into the horizon as we gazed behind us watching the sun peek over the mountains in what photographers call the blue hour.  As we raced forward, time stood still.  We were locked into the moment.

We laughed out loud at the funny sounding name of the next approaching town or the bizarre and ridiculous billboards which dotted the desert landscape.  We chatted idly about what we saw through the car’s windshield which was now our lens to nature and held random conversations dads and daughters have when time is suddenly no longer a precious commodity.  Occasionally, we wondered if Marie had finally risen from her uninterrupted sleep, if the others back at the hotel were enjoying their all-inclusive casino buffet and if anybody had struck it big at the slot machines.  

As we left Las Vegas at dawn each morning, we had a special feeling that this daily opportunity to explore and photograph this rugged and rocky part of the original Wild West may not come again.  For five days we lived on barely five hours sleep, with no regrets. 

Below are the words that many years from now, will fill in the gaps and spaces between the endless black asphalt and red and orange mountains, of photos Lauren and I took of these national parks and conservation areas enjoying these daily road trips. 

Moments we shared when most of the world was sleeping and perhaps dreaming of some the adventures we were fortunate enough to share together…..

Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area (Nevada)

They've all gone to look for America
All gone to look for America
All gone to look for America

“America” ~ Simon & Garfunkel

This was our first stop 17 miles west of Vegas, where in the company of Marie, Jackie, Shawn and Jim we witnessed our first sunset over Las Vegas complete with a glorious rainbow over Sin City in the distance.  At Calico Tanks, we climbed on some red and rust colored rocks that are over 600 million years old posing with arms extended overhead merrily taking selfies and shouting exuberantly into the canyons listening for our resounding echo.  At Sandstone Quarry, we popped some champagne and toasted the newlyweds, Mr. and Mrs. Shawn Carter.  We all promised to come back someday and hike the back country of Ice Box Canyon together.  Concluding our evening, we stopped briefly at Red Rock Wash Overlook and watched in silence as the early Las Vegas lights began to illuminate the skyline.  Bring on the Night!

Zion National Park and Bryce Canyon National Park (Utah)

On the first part of the journey
I was looking at all the life
There were plants and birds and rocks and things
There was sand and hills and rings

“A Horse With No Name” ~ America

Destination Utah. 

Today, we had not one, but two spectacular national parks in our sights as we pulled out of the parking garage and headed north on Interstate 15.   Our travel guides explained that when driving and hiking in Zion you looked upward towards the skies, versus Bryce where like the Grand Canyon, you hiked and looked downward into the basin.  From majestic vistas, we photographed tranquil streams and endless valleys.  Arriving at Checkerboard Mesa we discovered our serendipitous National Geographic “photographers moment“.  A herd of bighorn sheep were feeding no more than 200 yards from our rental car.  Instinctively, I grabbed my zoom lens and proceeded to follow them into the hills.   Wow!!

Toasting our good fortune and enjoying some of the best homemade apple pie ever at the rustic Thunderbird Restaurant, we mapped out our route north on 89 that would eventually lead us to Bryce Canyon.  Of all the images I viewed online from my computer back in New Jersey, this was the park I most wanted to experience firsthand!  

Arriving first at Sunrise Point and then at Sunset Point this breathtaking scenery did not disappoint.  In front 

of our disbelieving eyes, hoodoos and spires anchored in the ground for millions of years reaching for the heavens, something that the most elaborate Hollywood special effects team could never recreate.  Finally, at Inspiration Point (aptly named) stood Thors Hammer in all its glory.  Not satisfied with my south rim view, I hiked into the belly of the amphitheater.  I imagined Roger Dean visiting this place, drawing inspiration from this natural beauty to create his famous Yes album covers.  Before we left this sacred ground, Lauren and I posed on the rim in separate yoga asanas marking the moment in photos captured on our cell phones forever.   If we had left immediately and not taken any additional photographs the entire trip, I would have been eternally grateful to have experienced these last ten hours!

What should have been as easy as reversing our directions and traveling southwest another 300 miles back to Las Vegas (in hind sight) thankfully did not turn out that way.  Heading east instead of west on Route 12 we somehow ended up at the end of road in Kodachrome Basin State Park.  A quiet campground nestled in the heart of Red Rock Country.  Just as the rain begun to fall, some locals took pity on us and helped us navigate back to the Interstate.

This unbelievable day was far from over!

Taking a short-cut west on Route 14 heading for Cedar City, near Navajo Lake, we encountered snow and rolling fog.  Like a couple of teenage kids, we stopped the car, got out made snowballs and took selfies with the snowcapped mountains serving as our backdrop.  Another gentle reminder that at 9,000 feet above sea level, very few things are in your control.

Arriving back in Las Vegas, exhausted and elated dad and daughter toasted the day’s adventures knowing full well this was one day of exploration and photography we would never forget!

Grand Canyon National Park (Nevada & Arizona)

Why don't you come with me little girl
On a magic carpet ride
You don't know what we can see
Why don't you tell your dreams to me

“Magic Carpet Ride” ~ Steppenwolf

Today, we gave the rental car a well-deserved break as we took to the sky with a bird’s eye view of Las Vegas from 4,000 feet as we headed towards the Grand Canyon in a Sundance helicopter.  Lauren and I had a front row seat as we watched the sun appear over mountains formed over 20 million years ago.  From our South Rim view, we could see the mighty Colorado River appear as but a trickle below us, twisting and turning below rainbow colored rocks.

Shortly, we touched down on Havasupai Indian ground 3,000 feet below the rim in the belly of the Canyon feeling the smallest (and ‘coolest’) we’ve ever felt in our entire lives.  Six people claimed these 20 acres as their own for almost an hour, exploring the rocky terrain of desert flowers and scrub vegetation.  For a moment, we felt like the astronauts of the 60’s who briefly claimed the moon as theirs.  Noticing some loose rocks, I quickly built a small tower of stones pointing towards the heavens as my personal reminder along with my footprints as time spent on this sacred soil. 

We boarded our magic carpet and on the return route sailed over Lake Mead and Hoover Dam before coming to rest back where it had all started almost four hours earlier in Las Vegas.  Touching down at McCarran Airport it all seemed like a dream in the town made famous for dreams that are won and lost with a single “hand” (or “experience”).

Death Valley National Park (California)

We’ve been on the run
Driving in the sun
Looking out for number 1
California here we come

“California” ~ Phantom Planet

Heading out in two separate cars, Lauren and I, and Jackie, Shawn and Jim headed west on I-15 to where NV Highway 373 turns into CA Highway 127.  We crossed the state line near Ash Meadows finding ourselves back in the Golden State for the first time since 2012 when my family and I celebrated my “50^th” birthday. 

If Zion and Bryce Canyons boasted hundreds of acres of red and orange mountains along with lush vegetation, waterfalls and tranquil streams, Death Valley was for the most part the complete opposite in terms of topography and surroundings.

Fortunately, our weather conditions were sunny and a cool 66 degrees when we arrived at the DV Visitor center.  With limited time and much terrain to cover, we decided to start at Furnace Creek and head south to make sure we experienced some of the more popular sites and trails.  Sadly, exploring The Racetrack and Mesquite Flat Sand Dunes would have to wait for another visit.

Traveling as a group was fun and lively experience, versus our previous excursions of just Lauren and I.  We had fun exploring the Natural Bridge and climbing up and around the nearby slot canyons, taking selfies and enjoying this unique experience together.   

We passed by the Devils Golf Course (not a real links course) but a large salt pan located within the Mojave Desert heading towards Badwater Basin.  At 282 feet ‘below’ sea level, Badwater Basin is the lowest point in all of North America.  The unusual name comes from the water that collects near the road which when combined with the nearby salt flats make the water undrinkable.  Gazing across the road a small sign set high up in the mountains proclaims “Sea Level” to give you a perspective of how low you really are.

Driving back to Vegas we passed through the area known to history buffs and conspiracy theorists as

Area 51.   Back in the 50’s, atomic bombing exercises (“Operation Ranger”) and other “Top Secret” governmental projects were purported to occur out here in the Desert far away from civilization.

Like our other excursions, this day trip was one filled with much fun and exploration. 

 Valley of Fire (Nevada)

When I die and they lay me to rest
Gonna go to the place that’s the best
When they lay me down to die
Goin’ up to the spirit in the sky

“Spirit in the Sky” ~ Norman Greenbaum

It was Monday, Memorial Day. 

It was our last 24 hours in Las Vegas, with our escape from reality quickly coming to a close, Lauren and I decided to head out to the desert one last time.  For this road trip we headed 50 miles northeast of Vegas to the Valley of Fire and home of the Moapa Indian tribe.

Arriving approximately one hour before the park ‘officially’ opened we were the first visitors to arrive at the Beehives which represented the first collection of red rocks after Checkpoint #1.  It was like the alien spacemen who visited this planet 150 million years ago had organized the brightly colored limestone and shale rocks in disparate columns and piles for groups of eventual human beings to gaze upon in wonder and awe as if to say…..“How in the heck did these rocks end up like this?” Endless columns and piles of jenga-like pillars that seemed to defy gravity appeared from out of nowhere and stretched as far as the naked eye could see towards the horizon.

Initially, we explored Atlatl and Arch Rocks.  “Be careful, dad” Lauren cried as I climbed up on the red and orange rocks to get a closer look at these jagged walls where no two rocks looked the same.  We proceeded next to the Balancing Rock Trail where this square shaped rock balanced on the end of cone shaped rock formation.  At Rainbow Vista Trail we trekked through the scrub vegetation and cacti on trails of orange colored sand that gleefully covered our hiking boots.

Our final destination was the famous Elephant Rock Loop Trail.  We hiked to Elephant Rock where Lauren took photos of me posing next to the arch openings which gave way to the bright blue skies overhead.

With time no longer on our side, we bid one final farewell to the lands of the Valley of Fire knowing that the Indian spirits we experienced on this Memorial Day would forever live within our souls until the day when we could no longer walk this earth.

We arrived back at the Las Vegas hotel knowing full well it was time to head east and travel back home to Moorestown, New Jersey complete with the knowledge (experience) gained to answer some of the burning questions from this wanderlust and soul searching Vision Quest.

These photographs of the trails we hiked and experienced first-hand would live on in our mind’s eye…..forever.

Next up…..The Mother Road (aka Route 66) in 2016………

Dad and Daughter

Somewhere across the America

Memorial Day Weekend 2015

Lessons Learned

Lessons Learned

“In school, you’re taught a lesson and given a test.  In life, you’re given a test and taught a lesson”. ~ Tom Bodett

They say “experience” is what you get when you don’t get what you want. 

A new chapter of my life starts this week.  I got a new job.   A quick glance at my professional resume will tell you that this occurrence has happened exactly three times in the last 24 years, or roughly half of my life on this planet.

So while this milestone is certainly a cause for celebration, I also think this moment deserves some reflection about what I learned as I look forward to a new environment, surrounded by new co-workers, excited for the new challenges and successes that lie ahead.

The Corporate World has drastically changed since this naïve soon-to-be working professional graduated Rutgers University at a time when the first personal computers and music playing on clear plastic discs were all the rage.  Those changes include how we find a job, interview for a job and if we’re lucky, ultimately land that “dream” job.

The need for instantaneous information and intense competition continue to drive corporations in an environment where over the course of nearly three decades; cheaper and quicker has replaced mentoring and learning curves. 

So, what exactly did I learn during these past three years of surviving outsourcing, downsizing, networking and corporate reorgs:

#1 - Your dream is not necessarily their dream.

I guess, I knew this to be the case all along.  Deep down I realized I was fighting some fight I knew I could never win.  Some modern day – David and Goliath battle with a completely different ending.  What motivates you and interests you is fine, so long as it fits into the company’s overall plans and corporate strategy.  Job satisfaction is not a company benefit like health insurance or PTO days which must be offered to the employee workforce.  The company is under no obligation to ensure you “like” your job.  The company survives by providing a superior product or service to consumers, exceeding stock expectations and growing market share and profitability.  If you happen to enjoy your work while accomplishing these corporate objectives on behalf of the company, well then, ‘good for you’.  However, if there is more give than take in this employee and employer relationship (the same can be said for any personal relationship), well then, “Houston we have a problem”.  

#2 – Sometimes it is personal.

Regardless of this “team” concept that is constantly preached in the workplace, we workers are all constantly evaluated (‘racked and stacked’) against our peers.  And unlike Tee Ball games played by five year olds, rest assured there will be winners and losers as part of the annual evaluation/compensation process.  Quite often, a random self-imposed “bell curve” distribution will determine The Haves from The Have Nots.  And because this process is managed and administered by human beings it will always contain very real human prejudices and judgements not only about you the worker, but about you the person. 

Managers and other participants with authoritative power will ‘game’ the system for their immediate personal benefit and/or the benefit of their team.  At stake in this process and linked together for you the employee are compensation and advancement.  By products of this flawed process include increases/decreases to your standard of living which in turn drive your desired lifestyle away from the office.  In this arena, anything you say or do, (potentially) can and will be held against you for the betterment of others.  Tread carefully here and avoid being a casualty.

#3 – You must create this thing called Work/Family balance.

Nowhere in the company manual does it say, the company is required to provide you with work/family balance, whatever that business oxymoron really means.  They may offer you a laptop and the ability to work from home the day your new state of the art washer and dryer gets delivered to your home, but you must manage this constant balancing act of meeting your work deliverables and ‘having/maintaining a life’ away from those aforementioned deliverables.  This one can be a particularly tricky (slippery slope) as the precedents you set while working from home, checking emails on vacation, etc…..can possibly become the new ‘norm’ from the employer’s perspective moving forward as ‘worker’ expectations become set and reset.

#4 – Fear and control and the dance they perform.

Managing by fear is perhaps the gravest of all sins bestowed upon the workplace employee by so called Senior Management.  To the reasonable person, it would appear unconscionable to not only create that environment in the first place, but then reward and promote senior lieutenants who perpetuate its growth among the various levels of staff.  With this fear comes control.  However, what management does not (or cannot) fully comprehend is the fact that a fearful and controlled worker is not a productive and creative worker.  Once in place this vicious cycle then feeds on itself.  And then, when two other department employees and I give notice in the same week, they appear quite honestly surprised.  Really?    

#5 – Walking away is at times a necessary survival technique.

Whether we’ve experienced a bad marriage, a fractured personal relationship, a faulty automobile, or a bad financial investment, when analyzed in the rear view mirror, we can honestly admit, yeah…..the signs were there.  It is common fact that most human beings dread change.  Against all odds, we often hold out hope that our fortunes will somehow miraculously change.  However, if we are honest with ourselves before our heads hit the pillow at night, we know deep down – it was time.  This is where age and experience provide a welcomed and much needed perspective.  Often we must cut our losses and move on, so that we can live to fight to another battle.  Like that old 60s protest song once proclaimed….”Time has come today”.

“Oh yeah…..looking back on it now……sure there were some things I would have done differently – said everyone!” 

Today, I have a new lease on life.  Once again I am reminded that I control less than I would like to ‘think’ I control.  However, I lived through these past three years, so I know more now than I did then.  I am a survivor and will use this experience “gained” in my next employment situation. 

Today, I allow myself to let go of the negativity that controlled my previous workplace environment.  I fully embrace this new beginning.

I have been chosen for this new and important position by this welcoming company.  I am confident, when I combine my breadth of industry experience along with the assistance of my new colleagues, I (we) will be successful.

It is a good day!