If you had asked me a decade ago or so what brings people greater pleasure, love or hate? My answer would have been quick, and what I would think obvious. Love.

In the scheme of emotions love and hate are the polar extremes of each other. I tend to think more things in life fall into the categories of like and dislike, OK and not OK. Whatever and meh. You get what I mean.

This could apply to music you listen to or sports teams you follow, or types of food your palate has an opinion about. The list goes on and on that triggers the emotions of love and hate or something in between.

This post is more about the loss of the in-between and the only options being love or hate. If we are talking about issues like Beyonce over Taylor or Mets verse Yankees or even Chinese food or Indian food, love or hate isn’t too big of a problem no matter which side you’re on. The repeated concerning issue is more in politics and the society it represents. Unlike the previously mentioned choices, the feelings people have towards a politician or politics is becoming more and more polarizing by either loving or hating.

Creating those extreme emotions attached to another human being or ideology is a slippery and potentially treacherous slope. First of all, no politician or political ideology is perfect. The feelings of love or hate on these issues tended to be fluid in the past. This leads to a more in-between sentiment. For some reason, currently those days seem to be over. It seems you either wear the uniform of one side or the other. If you approach the opposing side its seem frighteningly natural to get so emotionally angry, filled with hate, you might even express it through violence.

We are currently in another important political race here in New York City. The mayoral primaries have been quite heated on the democratic side with many folks having thrown their hat in the ring. What I’ve noticed more times than not, the commercials supporting a particular candidate spend far more time spewing negative, pseudo-hate propagating information about the other candidates and telling me far less about themselves and their plan.

What I’m getting at, is there is a greater shift, in my opinion, of what emotion people seem to be desiring. I feel like far too many of us enjoy the feeling of hating something or someone. We look for it and live to hold onto it. Anger seems to be something that feels good for far too many of us. It’s becoming a perverse drug to the social peace of what is supposed to be an advanced civilization we live in today.

Does anger make us feel more alive? Forget about love. How about just acceptance of things we don’t agree with. It has become energizing to many people to have strong feelings of disdain and hate toward someone or some group of people.

To be fair, I feel a degree of this exists in most people innately, but the sense of fairness and desire for a more peaceful society, allowed us to put things in perspective. This, I believe put our emotional barometers in a more neutral state, with some degree of respect always reserved for those with a differing view.

When our public leaders, so-called voices of the people of this country, are resorting to name calling, belittling and making those with a differing belief, now enemies, we have a very serious situation on our hands. When you create a society like this you are making it ripe for the taking of something that could be very detrimental.

I don’t care what side you’re on, the fact that you’re on a side that is not truly one of the “United” states is a significant problem. We have already become the “Divided” states of America and quite frankly many people seem fairly content with that.

Don’t let your personal frustration about your life be the fuel that entices you to spew anger at perfect strangers or people that are being labeled “the enemy”. Most people are expressing anger at things that they generally don’t even deal with on a regular basis, nor even impacts them very much. It’s easier to join in with the angry mob than to confront your individual issues that are making your life personally miserable. It’s a classic displacement or transposing of your own emotions onto others. The release of anger temporarily makes you feel good. Newsflash. Anger moves the needle of progress nowhere forward. In fact it stalls progress or sends us backwards in resolving problems.

We need the leadership on many levels to call a time out. To realize the rhetoric has gotten out of hand. Too many of us believe this is the new way in which this country operates. It has been a very long time since I’ve heard anyone in power say it’s time to heal the wounds and reach across the aisle and accept each of our fellow Americans with whatever belief system. Until we even begin with that very basic step, the aisle keeps getting wider and time makes it that much tougher to make the first move.

Stop spending so much energy on anger and revenge. The history of the world has already proven this is a formula for self destruction and disaster. I hope someone singularly or collectively can shine the light back onto the things that made this country the unique and beautiful United State of America it once was. Until then…..Sunshine Always!

The post Is Hate a New Drug? appeared first on Weathering Your 50s & Beyond.

With that being said, in the last few months I reread Eckhart Tolles , The Power of Now as well as Don Miguel Ruiz, The Voice of Knowledge and The Four Agreements. Sometimes I need a reset to step away from all of the noise and extremely poisonous vitriol that surrounds us currently. Not the purpose of this short post however.

Some dates in our lives live on forever etched in our brain. Some for very good things, others perhaps not so positive. Many of you might not be reading this on the date I’m writing it, but June 19th marks a very important personal day in my life. I know it has come to be a much needed representative holiday for many, now known as Juneteenth.

For me however, June 19th, 1975 was a very important day in my young life. It was the June of my 8th grade graduation from my private Catholic School in Ozone Park Queens, Nativity BVM. The tradition of the school was that upon graduation, the class was treated to a day trip to Rye Playland Amusement Park in Rye, NY. The really cool thing is that the park still exists today. I did get to revisit a couple of times when working for WNBC and I would do a weather remote on location. That was always fun and I would reminisce.

So with all of that being said, I am going to briefly indulge myself and step back from the now and fondly look back an incredible 50 years ago today. The trip of course was marking the end of an 8 year journey with friends that many had become family. It also brought to mind how we would not necessarily see some of these friends again, as we were all heading off to different high schools.

The greater memory however, is something I have written about as part of previous blogs. By the time 8th grade rolls around, hormones are beginning to rush through the veins of young men and women. This leads to the first attempts at relationships and dare I say feelings of like/love.

As it was for me I had a crush on a particular tall lean brunette. When she would walk into the classroom or sit near me a strange feeling as if a butterfly field took flight in my stomach came over me. At first I thought it was something I ate (just kidding), but the persistence told me I was bitten by the love bug.

It was on this date, June 19th, 50 years ago when I made my feelings known to Nancy Scipione. We ended up spending most of the day together at the park. She gave me the nickname Doobie (not for the reason you might think). I remember writing it on the underside of the bill on my baseball cap.

As many of you know already, 9 1/2 years later we were married. We were together over 40 years(married just shy of 32 years) and made two beautiful amazing children, Jeremy & Carly. The love story took a turn in life that leaves one questioning why, as Nancy was taken from us May 21, 2016.

Again this is a reflection back. It’s almost not comprehensible to think this was 50 years ago. It had such an innocent and beautiful start and blossomed into an amazing life together. While I’ve learned to move forward and stay mostly in the present moment, I feel this day needs a bit of honor from me. Who knows the path forward if I never said anything and we graduated and never saw each other again. It’s that simple.

Thinking back makes me smile and feel a bit of that innocence once again. It’s worth looking back when you still appreciate and feel joy from a memory. It’s not about being sad or resenting what isn’t anymore. I have this discussion often with someone close to me. I feel if you’re going to look in the rear view mirror and it makes you smile then go for it. If it makes you angry or sad then DON’T! It does no good as we really are only living in the present.

So for me a nice reflection on a day which ended up playing a huge part in the next four decades of my life is worth the time. Thank you Nativity BVM, thank you class of 1975, thank you Dolores Rimi(the match maker) and of course thank you Nancy Scipione…….Nance. There’s still a little Doobie in me.

Sunshine Always

The post It Was 50 Years Ago Today…… appeared first on Weathering Your 50s & Beyond.

The last couple of winters in the NYC area have been rather wimpy when it comes to snow. This winter we have had a bit more frequent snow, but no one snowfall has been particularly heavy. At the time of my writing this, we are still over 9 inches behind a normal snow season in Central Park.

This particular post isn’t about snow stats and numbers. In the most recent light snow event, I found myself looking out the window to the street light to watch the flakes falling. For night time perspective of watching snow, it’s the best way to view the flakes as they fly.

I can remember as a child at night, with a pending snowstorm, peeking behind the blinds or shades to look up at the street light to see if the snow had begun falling. I would just sit for long stretches of time, excited when a car’s headlights turned up my street of 107th Ave in Ozone Park, and I could gauge how hard it was snowing as the lights lit up the flakes as if in a snowglobe.

The enchantment of snow often begins in childhood, a time of innocence and discovery. The first snowfall of the season can transform the most familiar of landscapes into a breathtaking winter wonderland, a spectacle that never failed to bring a unique happiness in my heart. The sight of soft white flakes gently accumulating on rooftops and streets ignites a unique sense of wonder and excitement, marking a distinct departure from the mundane sights of pavement and concrete along with bare leafless trees.

When you’re young, the experience of snow is filled with possibilities and adventures. Gathering with friends outdoors, and suddenly having this appreciation for nature. Of course that comes with time-honored activities like building snowmen or igloos. Often, neither of which turned out exactly as planned. The snowmen would end up having a screwdriver or something other than the traditional carrot for a nose. The eyes might end up being two mallomars (though I would never waste them there)l instead of coal, but you get the idea. It wasn’t a competition, but more about the fun of building something together and just maybe, as I get a bit nostalgic, creating a sense of community in it’s own small way.

Snowball fights, often characterized by playful friendly rivalries, also brought a lot of laughter and fun to those cold winter days. Maybe on the rare occasion things escalated a bit. I recall perhaps a snowball toss taking on a bit too much ice and somehow finding its way through someone’s living room window. My memories fuzzy on that, but in the end it was still innocent fun.

Then there was trying to find a hill to slide down when the snow was deep enough. Now I could tell you we all had sleds and would go off to a nearby park like you see in movies, or even on news reports after a big snow. Well, I grew up in the 70’s in Queens, NY. Most of us didn’t have sleds. Those big plastic Whamo sliders weren’t really popular yet. Once again, this called for innovation. We might grab a trash can lid, or flat piece of wood. If really lucky, we would find an old wooden milk crate(yes, I’m old) and use that as our sled. When all else failed, we might just slide down sans nothing, or on our butts.

With those wonderful implements in lieu of sleds, we would often just find the biggest hills in the neighborhood and take them on. I do recall one in particular we would often go to. In retrospect I certainly wouldn’t recommend it, but we were young(teenagers) and a bit stupid.

It was a street we used to call “the Dip”. It was a strange drop from a side street into a busy avenue. The avenue was Pitkin Avenue and there were always plenty of cars traversing the two way road. I will say, we were usually responsible enough to signal the person at the top when it was safe to take the run down the Dip. One of us would stand guard and gauge the traffic. Of course, I think some of us were better than others at judging the speed of oncoming cars. Bottomline is, thankfully nobody ever got seriously hurt.

The sheer thrill of racing down a snowy “dip” encapsulates the essence of childhood, a time when worries are few, and the world is filled with adventure.

Then of course there are snow days. To be honest, back in the 70’s and even 80’s, a snowday was a very rare occurrence. I can remember snowstorms of 6-12 inches and we still had school. I think back on my friend Neil and I walking to our school everyday through it all. One particular scenario sticks out in my mind quite vividly.

We had a very bad icestorm, but yet school was not closed. As we walked to school we would see and hear tree branches crackling and crashing to the ground in front of and behind us, as we laughingly made our way to class. Now, I think if one of those branches fell on us, I’m not so sure I would be writing this more than 50 years later.

The really interesting thing about snow and its emotional impact on people plays out in some telling statistical studies.

Throughout various surveys and studies conducted on weather preferences, snow consistently emerges as a favored element among many individuals. For instance, a survey by the National Weather Service found that approximately 70% of respondents express a strong preference for snowy weather over rain or storms, illustrating snow’s unique charm. This affinity seems to span across different age groups, connecting individuals to a nostalgic appreciation that often dates back to childhood experiences of winter wonderlands.

In contrast to more common weather conditions like rain and heat, snow tends to elicit a more profound emotional response. A study conducted by the Weather Channel highlighted that 65% of participants reported feeling joy or excitement when snowflakes first begin to fall. These findings suggest that snow is not merely a meteorological phenomenon but one that deeply resonates with people on an emotional level. Furthermore, the undeniable beauty of snow-covered landscapes often prompts individuals to engage in recreational activities such as skiing, snowboarding, and building snowmen, further fostering a positive association with the season.

Interestingly, the love for snow appears to supersede preferences for sunshine and clear skies as well. According to a comprehensive survey by the American Meteorological Society, 58% of respondents stated they would choose a snowy day over a sunny one if given the option, underscoring an inherent fondness for winter weather. The pristine allure of fresh snow and the serenity it brings can potentially forge cherished memories and traditions that remain with individuals throughout their lives.

Overall, the statistics place snow in a favorable light, illustrating that many people hold a deep-seated fondness for snowy conditions. This emotional connection helps explain the enduring love for snow, making it a beloved part of the human experience regardless of age.

The thrill associated with impending snowstorms can be attributed to several factors. Firstly, the unpredictability of weather conditions lends excitement to the possibility of a snowfall.

Moreover, snowstorms provide a break from the regular pace of life. When forecasts hint at significant snowfall, there is a collective exhilaration that often translates into a temporary shift in daily routines. People anxiously check weather updates, preparing for what may come next, which can create a sense of community as individuals bond over shared excitement. Even the prospect of disruptions, such as school closures or altered commuting, can add to the thrill, as they offer opportunities for a pause from the usual hustle and bustle of life. Of course let’s not forget the run to the store for milk and bread. I would say eggs but, well you already know.

Ultimately, the anticipation of pending snowstorms elicits an emotional response that intertwines joy, nostalgia, highlighting the enchanting influence of snow on our lives.

Of course as adults, the snow isn’t always about fun and games.

For many adults, the prospect of navigating snow-covered roads introduces a layer of stress that overshadows the initial joy the winter season brings. Commutes can become treacherous, requiring careful planning and increased travel time. The allure of a snow day, once synonymous with freedom, is often overshadowed by the responsibilities that persist, such as work deadlines and commitments. Some individuals may find themselves at odds with their affection for snow, grappling with the dilemma of wanting to embrace winter outdoor fun, while acknowledging the challenges that arise from snowy conditions.

To reconcile these conflicting feelings, many adults find a more pragmatic approach. This can include flexible work options such as telecommuting or adjusting work schedules to enjoy the snowy landscape while managing professional commitments. Others may seek to carve out time during weekends or leisure days to indulge in snowy activities, allowing them to reconnect with their love for winter while still fulfilling responsibilities. Embracing this balance is essential; therefore, prioritizing both enjoyment and duty becomes a vital skill for many adults navigating the complexities of winter weather.

Ultimately, finding joy amidst the practical challenges posed by snow can lead to a more fulfilling winter experience. As individuals learn to balance the charm of a snowy landscape with their adult obligations, they can continue to cultivate their love for snow throughout their lives.

In concluding this, while I still grapple with a love-hate relationship with snow in my adulthood, I realize the hate is really because I can’t embrace the snow the way I used to in younger less responsible years. Having a career which largely includes the responsibility of disseminating information about pending snowstorms, I do miss out often on those more innocent joys from a good snowfall.

It’s all part of the balancing act of life. To that, no matter the situation, I will always try my best to get something out of every snowfall that brings that twinge of more innocent times back into my heart.

I still have anxiety the days and nights before approaching snowstorms. Granted it may now be more predicated on the accuracy of my forecast than whether or not we will have a snow day. One of the worst feelings in my career is the forecast bust of a snowstorm. Particularly the misses, not so much the under forecasted accumulations.

In embracing snow, we celebrate its enchantment throughout our journey from childhood to adulthood. The excitement, beauty, and emotional resonance of snowy landscapes remind us to appreciate life’s magical moments, urging us to reclaim our sense of wonder at any age. Engaging with snow, whether through activities or quiet contemplation, allows us to connect to both our past and present.

So I say let us find joy in snow’s enchanting embrace as we navigate through the seasons of life.

OK! Snap out of it Cimino!!!! Is it Spring yet??? Playball!!!

Sunshine Always!!

The post Ageless Snow Lovers appeared first on Weathering Your 50s & Beyond.

With the hustle and bustle of the holidays behind us, as well as some of my own challenges, I’m back in my blogging saddle. I do hope all of you had a pleasant and peaceful holiday. Prior to the holidays and through them, something has been on my mind. After enjoying a trip across the border into Niagara Falls and Toronto Canada to take in some of the festive Christmas markets and displays, it brought more light to what’s been bothering me. I intend to write something about that little journey as well, and can’t say enough nice things about the people we crossed paths with across the border.

For quite some time now, the mood and attitude of people here in the Tri-State, in particular NYC, has been angry and combative. Social graces are rarely seen or heard. When I do hear a thank you or have a door held, it feels like I’m experiencing something very special. While appreciating these things is nice, they should really just be part of normal behavior.

The real forum for the unhealthy conduct is on social media. Here, all bets are off, as well as the gloves for some. Perhaps it’s a bit due to a sense of anonymity, a perception people have when posting responses to things they see that they disagree. It’s fine to disagree and have varying opinions. We should be able to enjoy the freedom of expressing them. That being said, if you need to get around someone in line or within a crowd, you can politely say excuse me and move around them, or you can physically push them out of the way and knock them over, while also hurling some completely inappropriate personal insult at them. I am using this metaphor to express how I often see things on social media interactions.

The anger and vitriol has even worked its way into the weather world online. I recently had an experience with a group of weather interests on Meta that was both laughable and a bit disturbing. I’m not going to mention the group, as it’s not really the point nor worth it. I will say it is a private group, but not one that does any heavy vetting to get into. This meaning, any person just interested in weather, particularly snowstorms, can join in with no meteorological background or education.

All of what I’ve just described would be fine in a world where we weren’t so hypersensitive to the overload of information around us. Injecting a level of hype or fear seems to be the only way people attempt to get attention.

To get more specific about this site, they post things about potential snowstorms, often 10-14 days out. There are several long range weather computer models. Many times during the winter, one or two of these models is showing an east coast blizzard forecasted some two weeks into the future.

Some of these models put out actual accumulation forecasts as well. Often it will be showing anywhere from 15-30+ inches of snow. As anyone who lives in this area knows, that is a very rare beast of a storm. Nonetheless this will be posted on their site and discussed with child-like enthusiasm every time any computer model hints at something along these lines.

I like to call it wish-casting or the Santa Claus theory. Like sitting on Santa’s lap and asking for a brand new Porsche for Christmas and Santa laughs and says “ho ho ho I’ll see what I can do”. Then you go home and tell your friends your getting a Porsche for Christmas. Not likely….

So what’s my problem with that?

I’m a meteorologist. I have been for 40 years of my life. I’m a snow lover, and when younger often spent sleepless nights awaiting pending storms. However, as I am part of the communication industry for many of those years, I feel a responsibility. Weather forecasting is not factual. If it’s a prediction, then it hasn’t happened yet, so until that point, it is not a fact.

Study after study shows people watch local news most often to get there weather forecast. Obviously, in the day and age of apps etc., less and less people will turn to their TV, but rather to their phone for the forecast. In some cases they will tap into online or social media groups that talk weather. I could write another separate blog on my feelings and shortcomings of the plethora of weather apps, but I will save that for another day.

Now to my “real” point about this post. Last month, I saw another of the usual posts on this aforementioned weather site, showing possible 1-2 foot snowfall amounts for the east coast. The person who runs the group and his closest cronies were all chiming in with their usual premature overzealous excitement. Again, I’m a snow lover. I still have that feeling of excitement when a pending storm gets closer to being a reality. However, I’ve been through enough of these false alarms so far in advance, to keep grounded in reality and patiently wait.

The issue becomes, that this information they are putting out there, spreads like wildfire. They may think they are only talking amongst themselves in their weather bubble of snow lovers, but the fact is fringe folks without any great understanding of weather models and their shortcomings, take what they see, and run with it. It inevitably falls into the hands of digital folks at various TV stations. They then start writing little blurbs about this big snowstorm coming almost two weeks from today. This is then is ingested by the general public who spreads it to their mothers and family and friends. This leads to the lines at grocery stores and Home Depot buying rock salt and shovels.

Then as the days get closer, the computer models either don’t even show a storm, or take it 800 miles out to sea. A complete miss. Not a flake.

Even though I’ve never said anything publicly on air about that storm, as I am trying to responsibly wait for things to become a bit clearer, I inevitably hear the fallout. “What happened to that big storm we were supposed to get?” “You guys don’t know what you’re talking about!” “I wish I had your jobs…. I could be wrong all of the time and still keep it.” Also my favorite, “THEY said it was going to snow….what happened”.

My Dad, rest his soul, would always say to me, “yeah THEY said it going to get cold” or whatever the weather story would be. I would say Dad….”I’m one of the THEY” why don’t you ask me?

To put an end to this story, I went onto this not to be mentioned weather site. I saw another excited post about a possible storm. I posted “guys this is ridiculous so far out in advance to be putting out there. It’s fun to look at and talk about it, but we(TV/Broadcast meteorologists) get stuck picking up the pieces. Try and forecast responsibly.”

Wow. You would not believe how quickly they attacked. It started with a snarky reply or two and I could see they were protecting their turf. Then the first personal attack came. That’s when I led a reply with “Listen twerp(maybe I should have chosen another term).” I let them get to me, but tried to explain that after broadcasting the weather to the public on radio and TV for over 40 years, I think I have an understanding of how the public interprets what we say, as well as what they need and don’t need to know.

I thought it would end there. Boy was I wrong again. It degenerated into them calling me a washed up old guy on a TV station and network nobody watches or even knows it’s name. Well that’s some anger there. From that point forward, I was done with engaging. However, the personal insults kept coming. My favorite, it made me laugh, “Frankenstein called and he wants his face back”. That’s a good one. Despite the fact it was totally inappropriate and off base of the intention of my first post. A couple of folks did come to my defense and had a nice thing or two to say, but the majority angrily piled on.

My point? Are we kidding? Is this what we’ve become? All I encounter are angry, frustrated and just mean spirited people on much of social media. There are some good folks still out there, although we often can’t hear them over the shouting of negativity from the masses.

I had another issue pre-election from a post I made showing the stock market and inflation compared to post the Spanish flu pandemic. I asked a question that I kept hearing, but really felt was not necessarily relevant to the election. Are you better off or worse from 4 years ago? Please don’t read into this here by the way. Been there….done that. However, again, while it could have started a discussion of opinions and views in a mature manner, it degenerated into such an angry mess. Once again things turned personal and close to vile. I pulled the post and felt forced to block some people.

With all of this being said, I waver on just pulling the plug on all of my social media. It’s beginning to feel more and more toxic every day. Their are still some very positive things I see, but between the false information and vitriol, I’m not sure it’s a healthy choice.

I still like to use social media for my love of travel and food. For sharing pictures with friends and family we can’t get to see in person very often, but can share positive things in our lives.

I just wish we could stop this constant anger. Whether it’s on the surface openly or underlying, it really never helps or fixes anything. We can all believe what we want, at least I hope that’s still the case. If we don’t agree, then so be it. It might be frustrating. It might lead to even ending connections to things or people that the differences are too great to continue moving forward together. That’s a last resort, and hopefully more peaceful resolutions are possible.

Just stop perpetuating angry personal attacks. There’s a difference between “I don’t agree with what you think about taxes or our healthcare system” and ” you’re an ugly idiot and your mother wears army boots because of what you think about taxes and healthcare.” Get my point. Disagree with someone, but you don’t have to try to disgrace and personally hurt them. That’s not a victory.

Until next time……Sunshine Always

The post Anger Pandemic – Discuss vs Disgrace appeared first on Weathering Your 50s & Beyond.

As we continue our journey through this winding road of life, it often feels like I’m coming up with more questions than answers. When you’re younger (20s – 40s), for the most part, you’re doing and planning. Living life on some trajectory you think you are controlling. Achieving things or frustrated by not reaching a goal. Perhaps starting and taking care of a family of your own. Maybe even just trying to figure yourself out. Most of us at this point in our life don’t ask THE question or spend much time pondering something. Why am I here? What’s the purpose of life?

I find when the realization of the fact that we are not here for very long sinks deeper into our psyche, we start to challenge ourselves in a different way. Much of what we spent the previous 30-40 years on, may not seem quite as important. Yes, it got us to where we are today, but then is this where we want to be. So many questions……so little time.

For me I feel it’s more about the inner soulful side of my existence than what I may or may not physically be doing out in the world. It’s examining many of the things I put quite a bit of attention and time into, that I now see weren’t so terribly important. I’m a believer that everything has a purpose in our lives. From monumental moments to the seemingly mundane.

As I’ve entered my 60’s, I’ve clearly entered at least the later act of my life. It’s quite a bit different than the earlier acts. Perhaps the biggest difference however, is my approach. I know a little more about who I am. I’m still learning the art of “Let it Be”. I can’t change what other people feel or think other than by being my genuine self. Believe me, that can be one convoluted mess to sift through. I say that tongue in cheek, but it still holds quite a bit of truth.

In trying to find my way, I often find other peoples stories quite interesting and also great sources to learn from, for my own life. We are all different, and no two persons paths are exact. This doesn’t mean others don’t impart significant nuggets of knowledge upon us. Sometimes we miss these gems of enlightenment when we first receive them, only to have them re-emerge later in our lives in a much clearer and resourceful manner. Sort of like time released wisdom.

So I’ve decided to pass along a few here that may or may not have meaning to your life, but I think cover a nice spectrum. If you search, there are thousands out there, but I’m just trying to use a range in the sources. All different walks of life, from all different times, still imposing some wisdom about life in a rather simple and succinct manner. Feel free to share some of your inspirational quotes as well in response. Hope this gets you going in the right direction.

Thousands of candles can be lighted from a single candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened. Happiness never decreases by being shared.(Buddha)

If opportunity doesn’t knock, then build a door. (Milton Berle)

It is during our darkest moments that we must focus to see the light.(Aristotle Onassis)

Don’t judge each day by the harvest you reap, but by the seeds that you planted.(Robert Lewis Stevenson)

It’s your outlook on life that counts. If you take yourself lightly and not too seriously, pretty soon you can find the humor in our everyday lives. And sometimes it can be a lifesaver. (Betty White)

Acceptance doesn’t mean resignation; it means understanding that something is what it is and that there’s got to be a way through it… (Michael J. Fox)

“Happiness is a choice that requires effort at times.”(Aeschylus)

Misery might love company, but so does joy, and joy throws much better parties. (Billy Ivey)

It’s not about being happy all the time, or being sure of all your choices. It’s about knowing that life is precious. Even when it’s tough. (Topher Kearby)

Until next time…….Sunshine Always!!

The post Wise Words appeared first on Weathering Your 50s & Beyond.

Whatever your reference, we all have a list of things we would want to do, or see or create. Some of us might not even be aware of all of them until you start experiencing and opening up the realm of possibilities. Many prefer to live vicariously through others. Sorry kids…. it’s not the same. That being said, I understand the many obstacles one might have in front of them in obtaining any of these items on the list. I have a name for that list too. It’s not a nice name, so I’ll leave it to your imagination by saying it sounds much like bucket list, but begins with the letter F. Yes…..you got it….probably.

The point is, we can always have reasons for not doing things. I’m not saying they often aren’t valid reasons. What I am saying, is that if you really want to knock that item off of your list, you will find a way.

Early in my life I traveled very little. In fact, as a child I had just a mere handful of travel experiences. Make that three, that I remember. None of them would I call great successes or fun. I’ll try and be brief, but to help put into perspective how much my life and travel experiences have changed, I think it’s a necessary recap.

When I was very young I remember a family journey to Cape Cod. My Dad was in a partnership in a dry cleaning business in Queens. We rented a small bungalow that you could walk to the beach along with his business partner’s family. I do remember it was a bay beach, so it was safer for all of us kids at the time.

My highlights in memory from that trip were as follows. Always being stuck in traffic if we attempted to go anywhere. My Dad and his friend renting a sailboat and capsizing on the bay. No, we were not in the boat. The finishing touch was my Dad attempting to ride some kind of motorbike and crashing it into the car of someone in the bungalow next to us. Nobody got hurt, except the car, my Dad’s ego and perhaps his wallet.

Another family trip I remember was to Washington DC.. It was the early 70s I believe. It was the period in which they were digging up areas around our nation’s capitol to create a rail system. Mind you, why on earth my parents would think to go to Washington DC in the summer they are tearing up the city for a family vacation, I have no idea. In addition, they have no hotel booked or any plan for that matter. It was a very hot July day and after traveling in the morning through the most dense fog that I can remember to this day, we arrived in Washington DC around noon.

As a young child you are not always privy or aware of the conversations going on between your parents. It did become apparent we did not have a place to stay yet, nor could we find any parking. We drove around and around and the tension in the car became thicker and thicker. I think my mom may have run out to check on a hotel availability at one point, but that came up empty.

The next thing I knew we were driving over the Potomac River into Virginia. I heard something about JFK being mentioned. As we kept driving I started to see more and more tombstones. We were in a cemetery?!! Yes indeed, we were in the Arlington National Cemetery, home of the JFK eternal flame grave. I guess the thinking was, finally some parking and a bathroom break. Also, a little piece of history as well. So we all got out, did our business, looked at the grave for 5 minutes and packed back into the car.

At this point I have no idea of what’s going on. Eventually I realize we are heading back home. That’s right, a round trip by car from Ozone Park, Queens to Washington DC without finding a place to park or stay. Summer trip…….over. I do remember the other highlight was stopping in a diner outside of Baltimore and having a hamburger. Boy, was my back to school paper on my summer vacation going to be gripping or what?

I’ll bore you with one other ridiculous attempt at a mini vacation for the young Cimino family. My Dad who worked for the US Post Office had a friend who had mentioned he took a road trip out to Montauk Point, Long Island. He said he had a great time and it was beautiful. So off we go Mom, Dad me and my brother and sister scrunched up into the car. I wondered what the plan was this time. Oh what’s that? There is no plan? “We will find a place to stay when we get there if it’s nice?” Where have I heard this story before.

Needless to say we are all a little older now and my brother, at 17 years old, really wants nothing to do with this trip or us. He’s eating a bag of pretzels in the backseat and occasionally throwing some pretzel crumbs out the window so when he escapes he can find his way home. I kid you not.

It was a close to three hour drive, but I remember pulling into the parking lot right by the Montauk lighthouse. They had bathrooms and a concession stand so we all got out and took a much needed bathroom break. My brother, still pretzel bag in hand.

I know I saw the light house when we pulled in and it was pretty cool to see one up close for the first time. I’m not exactly sure how long we all were in the restroom, but when we came back outside the lighthouse was gone. A wall of fog had rolled in from off the Atlantic and swallowed the lighthouse. The next thing that happened scared the pretzels out of me and my brother. This deep booming horn that reverberated through your chest from head to toe sounded. It was the horn of the lighthouse alerting boaters stuck out in the fog.

To put the finishing touches on this one, my parents decided to wait it out a bit I suppose. My sister, Diane and I went out to walk along these rocks up against the beach. Probably not the safest thing for two kids to be doing. Then again I’m pretty sure none of us were wearing seatbelts either for the entire trip. Different era indeed. Anyway as Cimino luck should have it on any family vacation my sister slips and loses one of her shoes down into the rocks. This thing fell into the abyss between all the rocks and we had a better chance tracing my brothers pretzel crumbs than finding her shoe.

So there we were in “beautiful” Montauk Point Long Island. My brother now really grumpy as he ran out of pretzels. My sister hopping around on one foot and shoe and me staring at the fog trying to see the lighthouse. You can guess by now where this is going. Back into the car we went, to make the ride back home.

Almost forgot one last thing about this trip. Along the road across that part of Long Island many farmers would sell fresh produce. Somewhere along the way home my Dad sees a sign that says potatoes 5 cents per pound. Wow!!! Such a deal!!! I can remember my Dad proudly putting this 20 or 30 pound bag of potatoes into the trunk of the car. This trip was going to be worth it after all.

When we got home after another “summer vacation” of spending more time sitting in a car than sightseeing, my Dad unloaded the sack of potatoes. When we opened the bag to share some with my grandparents who lived in the apartment upstairs from us, the final surprise was revealed. The majority of what was in the bag was not potatoes. It was more like 20 pounds of solid rocks!!! Yep, could have boiled those babies until kingdom come, but they weren’t becoming potatoes.

So there are my three great travel memories as a child. The point of these stories is to say, don’t let the past dictate the future. As my life went on I would eventually climb out of the travel nightmare phase and into experiencing some of the most amazing life changing moments via seeing the world. It took decades, but I got there. I have so much more I want to see and experience for as long as I can do so.

In the posts ahead I hope to write about my experiences from past journeys to future ones as well. From the Arctic Circle to the southern tip of Africa. From Singapore to Amsterdam to Barcelona. Your journey’s don’t have to be that far or exotic. Sometimes just exploring something in your relative “backyard” that you’ve never seen or experienced can be a worthy trip. Until next time.

Sunshine Always!!

The post Late Blooming Traveler appeared first on Weathering Your 50s & Beyond.

I left off with the incredible joy the 1969 New York Mets brought me and the entire city of New York. Let’s face it, something very strange was going on that year in so many ways. Besides the fact the Mets won the World Series over a heavily favored Baltimore Orioles team, the NY Jets upset the Baltimore Colts, the NY Knicks won a world championship, man landed on the moon along with the infamous Woodstock concert. It was quite a crazy year.

As an 8 year old and having been a Met fan for only a couple of seasons, I thought this being a fan thing was going to be a continuous fun ride. While I was aware of the surprise this team was pulling off, I think I was too young and lacked baseball history, let alone the minimum time being a fan, to truly appreciate the miracle this team achieved. Gil Hodges, the manager, did something few have done in such a short period of time, not only in baseball, but in any sport.

I could go on waxing about my history as a fan and my experiences on a personal level with some of the team and its history. Such as my Dad bringing home a puppy from his mail route in Hamilton Beach to cheer me up because I was so depressed when the Mets lost the World Series to the A’s in 1973. I still lament. Yogi? Why? Why? Why did you pitch Seaver on three days rest when we had two shots at winning the series? Save the best for last. I loved Yogi, but ouch, not a good managerial decision.

After that, the Mets hit the skids. The team fell in the standings and then M. Donald Grant traded the franchise Tom Seaver to the Cincinnati Reds. It felt like my heart had been ripped out or a family member was taken from me. How could this happen?! I suppose this was my first exposure to the business aspect of this game. My first feeling of ownership not really caring about the fans. Perhaps the loss of the innocence that happens in a relationship. Maybe, just maybe, in looking back it was the first baby step in wanting a divorce.

So like all Met fans we went through the George “The Stork” Theodores and Jim Beauchamps and Wayne Twitchell’s of the world. By 1977 they finished the season 37 games out of first place. Then there was a baseball strike in 1981 which was also another blow to the fans. Although to be honest, it spared Met fans from having to go through 162 games of misery for a season.

Into the early 80’s things just didn’t get better. In 1983 they finished 26 games under .500. By this time I went from my teens into my early 20’s and we would still go to a few games a year, because as ugly as they were, these were our beloved Mets. Then in 1984 something started happening. Frank Cashen had taken over the team a bit earlier, but was now building a winning club. Rookies by the names of Gooden and Strawberry were doing amazing things right out of the box. The additions of Hernandez, Carter and Knight suddenly made the Mets contenders in a little more than a season.

Next thing you know, 1986 comes along with a World Championship. Albeit, not an easy one. As any Met fan knows between the Astros series and game 6 and the same of the series with the Red Sox, the Tums were a regular part of our diet. I have to say while winners, that was a rather tough and nasty team. Not the most likable bunch. In fact, at the time, I’m not sure they all liked each other very much. They did know how to win however, at least for one season.

I had a conversation with Keith Hernandez years later at WNBC and after thanking him for giving us Met fans a championship his reply was “well we should have won a few with that team”. To be honest, in retrospect that was a very dysfunctional team with a ton of talent.

In quickly moving forward, we had the Subway Series in 2000. The Piazza homerun against the Braves the first game back from 9-11. I must say, I was at game 7 when the Mets won their last world championship and I was also at the game after 9-11 when Piazza launched that rocket over the wall. The ladder was the most amazing moment I truly ever experienced at Shea Stadium. Strangers hugging each other jumping up and down with tears in our eyes. It was more than a ballgame.

I should also mention in my memories as a Met fan, my wife Nancy and I along with our best man Fitz being the last group of people to run onto the field after the Mets clinched the Division against the Cubs in 1986. It was really awful the way the fans tore up the field, not sure why just running on the field to celebrate wasn’t enough for many. Still a great memory watching my friend simulate a slide into third base, which of course the fans had already ripped out of the field.

I will also never forget the amazing run the Mets put together in 2015. It was a particularly difficult year personally for me as that’s when my wife’s illness kicked in and that summer she attempted a bone marrow transplant to save here life. The Mets served as a great distraction that year, but fell short in the World Series against the Kansas City Royals.

So bringing us up to the present and why I want a divorce. Of course last year the Mets put together their second best regular season record in their history and proceeded to do the old fold-a-roonie against the Padres in three games, with all the games being played at home, I might add. That left a not so great taste in my mouth heading into this season. Fans were jumping for joy or maybe just licking their chops when we signed Justin Verlander during the off season. As a long time Met fan I knew this would not be the golden ticket some fans thought it would be to the postseason once again. I figured injuries or just age would be catching up. Not a ton of pitchers have great seasons post 40 years of age.

When I posted my first blog about wanting a divorce from the NY Mets it received a fairly hardy response on my social media pages. Most were in some sort of agreement with at least the sentiment. One fan however, attempted to call me out as being “another fair weather fan”. “You have no loyalty or integrity. Good riddance to you.” I love how people turn this into a personal angry attack. Let’s just say I responded calmly and factually. Hard to call a loyal fan of 55 years “fair weather”. Maybe he was just making a weather reference for me. Some fans apparently had already filed for divorce from the team and in some cases major league baseball altogether.

So yes, maybe I should just file for a separation right now. I’m pretty much living that at this point as I have not watched a single pitch since the purge. Of course curiosity and working in the news business I hear the scores and see that Mr. Cohen clearly ripped the heart out of the team, or what was left, and they lost 6 games straight. Since then, as of this writing, they have lost 10 of their last 12 games, with the low point being a doubleheader loss to the Braves with the combined score of 27-3. Apparently the players want a divorce as well.

I want to be clear. The point about the divorce is NOT about winning or losing. If it were, I would have filed a long time ago with this team. There’s a reason I still have two Shea Stadium seats in my yard. A brick with my family’s name on it at Citi-Field. Countless shirts, jerseys and jackets as well as newspaper clippings from 1969 still in my possession. It’s because I LOVED this team, I love the game of baseball. It use to represent childhood and innocence and summer to me. When your first world championship as a fan is the 1969 Amazin Mets, it becomes more than just a game. It’s a representation of life.

Baseball doesn’t play by a clock ( well it didn’t in the past). Like life, you never know exactly how long you have. As in life, the best parts can happen early, in the middle, or at the very end. Heroes can become goats in the same game and vice versa. It’s a beautiful game, even if the pace is slow relative to other sports. I’ve always been an underdog fan. I don’t feel comfortable rooting for teams that are supposed to win. Case in point why the 1986-88 Mets were not my favorite Met team. This team this year was supposed to win. They didn’t. They failed for the most part through 2/3 of the season.

That being said there was still 59 games to play and they were 6.5 games out of a wild card spot. Of course it would be tough with many teams to leap over. Impossible? No. Probable? No. However, the chance was still there with the players they had. Instead, ownership has a house clearing sale. This after saying they weren’t going to do that. Here in lies my problem. The people who are running the team decide we will throw in the towel for not only this year, but probably next and perhaps beyond that. We are now investing in 17-19 year olds who are 3-5 years away and I would fathom a guess that if 25% of them ever sniff the majors it will be a high return. However, you still want the fans to come out and buy tickets, watch games on TV, purchase merchandise after you pretty much just spat in our face.

The fans are the main reason baseball exists. You can play the game, but if nobody is watching and putting their hard earned money toward watching, then nobody makes money and the game is over. With the huge deals from broadcasting, raised ticket prices and concession costs that make it impossible for a family of 4 or 5 go to a game without taking out a loan, this is how you treat these people? I get the concept of rebuilding. They could just as well played out this year to see if they could turn it around. Start next season with your bullpen ace, Diaz back on the field. Keep your two top pitchers that you signed huge contracts with to win a championship and maybe add a player or two during the offseason. Instead you decimated. I don’t even know who half these guys are and I don’t have the time or desire to find out. Baseball is a team sport. Teams get stronger and better when they play together. Fans get connected to teams when they have the same group of players to root for game after game. I know there are changes, but this was too much. Too inconsiderate to fans.

When all is said and done I feel like I’m rooting for a logo. An enterprise or name, not a team. I don’t have time or the desire for a relationship that in the end never cares about me(Met fans). So as much as it pains me, I will continue the separation with the intent of divorce. It was a tumultuous 55 year marriage with many cherished amazing moments. Thank you New York Mets. However for now and quite possibly forever……farewell.

The reality is, this is only sports. It’s a form of entertainment (sometimes a stretch to call it that). Life goes on with or without it. We have seen it during strikes as well as a pandemic. If you’re a fan and are OK with all of this, then please go on being a fan. For me, I think I’m done.

J-E-T-S JETS JETS JETS!!!! Almost time for the next agita season.

If you got this far thank you. Sunshine Always!!!

The post I Want a Divorce….From the NY Mets Part II appeared first on Weathering Your 50s & Beyond.

I can still clearly remember the moment for some reason. It was October of 1967. The World Series that year featured the Bob Gibson led St.Louis Cardinals against the Boston Red Sox who’s leader was none other than Carl Yastrzemski. Yaz, as he was known. I remember watching on my black and white TV, the only TV in the home, this game called baseball. It was a weekday afternoon as there was no such thing as night games during the World Series back then. Yastrzemski had just hit a homerun and the announcers were singing his praise how he was keeping the Red Sox hopes alive. Something just struck me from watching that game that afternoon. It was the embryonic stages of what was to become a very long complicated romance with the game of baseball.

A little background on the Cimino family and baseball. Both my parents were long standing Brooklyn Dodger fans. Let me correct that a bit. My Dad followed the Dodgers and rooted for them. My mother on the other hand was what is known as a fanatic. She bled Dodger Blue as they used to say. Lived, cried and died with some of their painful losses to the hated crosstown rival New York Yankees. She suffered through being on the short end of the “shot heard ’round the world” as Bobby Thompson took her beloved Ralph Branca deep to end “Dem Bums” chance of getting into the 1951 World Series. How do I know all of this? Keep reading…..(also be sure to check out my Mom with her published article about her love of the game of baseball at the end of the blog)

After watching the 1967 World Series, which the Red Sox lost in seven games, I was hooked on the sport. I loved this guy they called Yaz and wanted to be a Red Sox fan. Funny even at that young age I was already more intrigued with the losing team than the winners. I’ll save those thoughts and what I think it says about ones personality for another blog.

A couple of weeks after the World Series I was with my mom in a small local grocery store in Ozone Park, Queens, called Circle “S”. As life would take me on its journey, I had my first paying job there about 10 years later. We were in the bread aisle and I saw this loaf of bread wrapped in white paper with the letters YAZ going across the side. Yaz!!!! That’s Carl Yastrzemski bread! “Mom, come on, you have to buy me this bread!” She looked at me and asked what I was talking about.

She really didn’t notice I was watching the World Series game a couple of weeks back. The moving of the Brooklyn Dodgers to Los Angeles was just too painful for her to follow baseball any longer. It truly ripped her heart out. I won’t print here the things she would often say later in describing Walter O’Malley the man who made the decision to move her beloved Dodgers three thousand miles away.

To put it in perspective, I still have newspaper clippings she saved of the Brooklyn Dodgers, particularly from the late 40s into the 50s. Some of the pictures of her favorite players still have her lipstick print on them. I still get emotional just typing that sentence as I now am in possession of all these beautiful baseball memories of my mom. I remember repeatedly reading every article she kept, as well as the box scores. I can still smell the old newspaper scent. Seeing pictures of Jackie Robinson, Roy Campanella alongside Duke Snider, Gil Hodges and Peewee Reese. What an amazing team of Hall of Famers spontaneously playing together on one team. Even though they only beat the Yankees that one year, 1955 as the Brooklyn Dodgers, I was always a little jealous later in life that she got to see all of these great ball players.

Moving on with the story, needless to say Mom was not going to have her son be a Yankee fan or for that matter a fan of any team in the American League. So the only option at the time was the hapless and often circuslike New York Metropolitans. Born the year after me, let’s just say calling them a major league team those first few years was being quite generous.

I went to my first baseball game the following summer. I believe it was July of 1968. Interestingly enough it was the Mets vs LA Dodgers. My Aunt Annie at the time worked for a company that had these amazing box seats behind the Mets dugout. In fact I think they were just a couple of rows behind Mets Chairman at the time, M. Donald Grant, who later was nearly crucified for trading away the Mets franchise, Tom Seaver, as he was making $200,000 a season and wanted more. I laugh just thinking about that now. I digress.

I remember entering Shea Stadium and as you walked around behind the seating you could not see the field. Not until you were going into the opening that seemed like this magical tunnel transporting you to your seats. That first glimpse of the grass. Greener than any green I had seen or could imagine. All the colors were bursting and crisp and seeing the players on the field so close was surreal to me.

My Uncle Johnny, the other half of my favorite Aunt/Uncle combo(I know you’re not suppose to have favorites), greased the palm of some security guard and I managed to get a baseball off the batting practice field. I then got the autographs of a young rising star lefty pitcher, Jerry Koosman, also catcher Jerry Grote and another pitcher Dick Selma. I wasn’t able to get the autograph of my favorite Met, shortstop Bud Harrelson, but I did many years later. Needless to say I was over the moon. If this is what going to Met games was all about, then sign me up.

Lets just say the games I went to after this were mainly on give-away days, such as helmet day or bat day. The seats were generally nosebleed sections and you could not read the players names on their uniforms. Who cared? I was at a baseball game rooting for my sorry team, the New York Mets. I can remember suffering through a doubleheader loss to the Philadelphia Phillies where I think we were outscored 25-3 over both games. Some Phillies fan sitting behind us kept heckling me, a 7 year old, through both games. Finally the guys wife told him to shut up and stop acting like a jerk. Now that was funny!

I realize to complete this story and my reasoning for wanting a divorce from the New York Mets, this is going to take a couple of sessions at least. So I will end this part one on the miracle and joy I received after being a fan for just two seasons. The Amazin’s of 1969 and the miracle World Championship.

More on that and the highs and lows of my Met fan life when we meet again.

Thanks for getting this far. Sunshine Always!

The post I Want a Divorce….From the NY Mets! appeared first on Weathering Your 50s & Beyond.

The path is normally to be raised by your parents and grandparents perhaps. Then the grandparents pass on. Then your parents need taking care of and inevitably they pass away as well. It’s sad. It’s often painful. However, again this is the “traditional” path of life to death.

What isn’t the “traditional” path is children getting sick and dying. Parents burying their kids, whether babies or adults, is just something that doesn’t ever seem fair or right. It’s a pain that leaves a scar that I’m sure will ache every day for the rest of their lives.

The recent and sudden passing of WCBS-TV meteorologist Elise Finch is one those that just hits like a blind punch to your gut that takes your breath away. For those that may not know, Elise passed away suddenly last weekend at the young age of 51. She left behind a daughter Grace, her shining star, and husband Craig a WCBS photojournalist. It immediately conjured up the memories and the feelings of when I heard the news about my former WNBC colleague, Katherine Creag, who also passed away suddenly about two and a half years ago, at the age of 47, tragically leaving behind three young children and her husband.

These types of deaths are something I never seem to be able to wrap my head around. I search for the reason, as if there’s supposed to be one. Obviously I’m still dealing with trying to understand why my wife was taken from here at the young age of 54. While not so suddenly as Elise or Kat, it effectively was just as bad or worse as the inevitable was painfully drawn out for her and all of us who loved her.

Back to Elise for a moment. I can’t say we were good friends, although there is a kinship of sorts in this industry, especially among weather folks. We may be competitively friendly, but we have all shared the challenges of this type of career and have a brother/sisterhood in our unique paths. I did get to meet Elise at a weather conference in Boston several years ago. If my memory serves me, she had not been at WCBS at that point for maybe more than 2-3 years. When you first meet someone you only see from the TV perspective, you’re not sure what you’re going to get in person. With Elise I was immediately impressed by how down to earth she was. She was one of those people you meet for the first time, but feel as if you’ve known her all your life. We were in a little lounge area in the conference hotel along with friends Janice Huff and Audrey Puente. For a few minutes the conversation pattern just had Elise and I paired off and what really struck me was her incredibly quick sharp wit. I remember thinking, this girl is a firecracker and funny as hell. As I’ve heard and read tributes from her friends and co-workers, I see this was truly who she was.

It would have been nice to know her better, but I’m glad I have that little memory. Which brings me to the more positive purpose to this post. All of this is sad. Death is never joyous. For those with a strong faith perhaps it is celebrated more. However, to me, the fact is, the person is no longer here. Whether they are at peace or in some beautiful eternal place, we selfishly miss them back here in this life. That’s human nature.

My bigger point about this blog is to say we should not fear death, but more importantly we should not fear life! Death is the unknown inevitability which makes it tough for us to accept. Life however, is the gift. Every day, it is a gift. Even the days we wish we could turn back or skip over. Yes, the day of your colonoscopy is a gift. The day you got fired is a gift. Even the day you lose a loved one, is a gift……in time. The good days and obviously joyous occurrences in life are easy to see as gifts. It’s those darker days that we can’t understand so readily. Why me? Why them?

I don’t profess to have answers to those question. I’m just a simpleton human being. I do know, by listening to yourself during those times, and accepting and feeling the pain, the anguish, the anger, you gain strength in moving forward. It’s what I guess we call the school of hard knocks or tough lessons in life. It doesn’t bring the person back. It doesn’t eliminate the sadness or sense of loss, but knowing you are still here with life to live and celebrate is the lesson we need to learn.

Don’t live afraid of taking chances. Don’t ignore your heart or your dreams for fear of failure. So what? As long as you are alive, there is hope for something new and exciting to fulfill you. Maybe it’s just being able to slow down and grasp a sense of peace and take in the good things surrounding us. Don’t be afraid to live. The inevitable awaits at the end of your story, so write some amazing chapters while you still have the pen in hand….or should I say keyboard. You get the idea.

I will say that from all three of these women, Elise, Kat and my wife Nancy, from what I saw and hear from those around them, they LIVED life. They brought joy and love to others everyday. They are physically gone, but they passed that on to each one of us who can sit here today and smile reflecting on a memory of any of them.

So my final words on this, and I will step down from the soap box, use your life to live. Use your life to give. Our time here is precious and unknown, so when you slide open those heavy eyelids every morning to start a new day, remember how lucky we are to have another crack at doing something good. Celebrate your life in any little way, each and every day. Appreciate those around you and let them know it. We just never know when that opportunity may come to a sudden close.

Watch a sunrise or sunset quietly. Listen to the rain cascading off the leaves of a tree. Rub your fingers on a lavender bush and take in that amazing smell. It’s all there each day, but we understandably get caught up in the sometimes incorrectly prioritized things in life. That’s OK. Just remember to hit the reset button often enough to go back to the basics.

Finally to the family, friends and colleagues of Elsie Finch, my heartfelt condolences, thoughts and prayers to heal, to grow and to smile again, knowing you are better because she touched your lives.

Thanks for getting this far……. Sunshine Always!!!!

The post Just Too Soon…. appeared first on Weathering Your 50s & Beyond.

On Thursday of last week I began checking the weather forecast for Humacao Puerto Rico for the upcoming Saturday. Humacao is located on the eastside of Puerto Rico, about a 45-50 minute drive to the southeast of San Juan. Why was I so concerned about the weather there? Saturday was the day of our marriage at the Catholic church in Puerto Rico. The same church where Edmi’s (my wife) parents were married over 60 years ago.

The church sits in the town square with a small park filled with benches and these beautifully gnarly old trees bordering the main path. It’s small, but when you walk through it, somehow you feel the sense of the past. A time when it was bustling with life, people and a sense of celebration.

As the morning approached I woke up and immediately checked the radar. Unfortunately, this was one of the times the weather forecast in Puerto Rico two days out was going stay true. It had already begun to rain in waves during the overnight and there was plenty more where that came from.

I stayed in a small hotel by myself the night before the wedding to make the pre-wedding hours a little less chaotic. Edmi went from her childhood home with her 91 year old father, Don Pablo, in tow. The night before, I told him I would see him in church the next day. He responded with a not very convincing reply, that he might make it. I later found out Edmi told him if he didn’t come, “who would walk me up the aisle” at the wedding. I think that was the great motivator. Guilt.

As I was getting myself ready back at the hotel, the girls were making sure Don Pablo was looking spiffy as well as some beautification to my bride( not that it’s needed). My transportation to the church was to be from a friend Omar, the husband of Edmi’ very good friend Madeline, who was to pick me up around 11:15 AM. I was hoping he might come a little earlier as the morning rain kept me from getting to a coffee shop for some much needed caffeine. As “luck” would have it, I received a knock on the door closer to 10:15 saying an Omar was waiting in the lobby. I know Omar is prompt, but thought that was a bit early, even for him. I was just out of the shower and not even dressed.

At least now I figured we would have the time to find a place to get some coffee and relax a bit before hitting the road. So I rushed to get dressed. Thankfully the AC in the room was quite strong so I was not sweating up a storm. I decided to take my wedding wardrobe with me instead of wearing it on the long drive. A linen suit would likely look like I was wearing an accordion by the time I got out of the car.

As I made my way down into the lobby and turned in, I saw someone sitting on the couch. It wasn’t Omar. Holy s*@t!! It was my friend of 40 years, Joe Avena, all the way from New Jersey! It took the reality out of the moment and for a few seconds it felt like a strange dream. We hugged, of course Joe cried a bit. We are both criers, but I think I was still more in shock. I did need a second to sit down to drink it in however. Another fact about Joe, is we became friends through my wife Nancy as they went to college together. In addition, as it turned out, Joe and I were born on the same day and year, April 27th.

We stopped at a local coffee shop in Mirimar and then hit the road for Humacao. Joe and I joked how it reminded us of our journey through Italy several years ago. To read more on that, look back into my past blogs using the tab on the top of the page, Two Guys & A Car, it’s a fun read with some great pictures of our journey. Of course this trip was to be quite a bit shorter.

For a good portion of the ride the rain had stopped. Of course as we neared the church it began to pour again. This was not the typical tropical downpours that last 5-10 minutes then move on as the sun returns. It would rain for an hour or two, a little lull, then deluge again.

The wedding was to start at 1PM. However, as I have learned over the time I’ve been with Edmi, there is a cultural time zone as well. You should always tack on at least 15-30 minutes to the suggested time. I’m a stickler for being on time, so this is still something I’m trying to get used to.

I was told a changing room behind the altar would be available when I got there. It was there. It was locked however. The woman Lourdes who was running the operation of the wedding was not yet there. The church is old and beautiful but lacks AC. The many fans that were set up had not been turned on so the inside of the church felt a bit like a rain forest. I’ve not felt humidity like that in a long time.

Lourdes finally arrived and things got going. I knew I was taking a chance wearing a pink linen suit, but when am I going to get married in the tropics again, so I went for it. I then moved back out into the church to meet my best man for this wedding. The one and only Maestro, Antonio Martorell, a brilliant artist and activist from Puerto Rico. Antonio is always dressed in some magnificent fashion so I was excited to see his chosen outfit. He didn’t disappoint. I was concerned that I had to wear a soft shoe due to a toe injury that was still healing, so dress shoes were off limits. Of course once I saw Tonio’s bright yellow and orange sneakers I knew we were both on point.

As the music came up and I saw a beautiful vision enter the back of the church I knew it was go time. I was actually pretty relaxed. My only concern was sweating down into a puddle on the altar. I think I lost three pounds by the time the wedding ceremony was over. My emotions were pretty much holding up strong until I saw Edmi being escorted up the aisle by Don Pablo. This truly was the whole reason for having this ceremony in Puerto Rico. I know how much it meant to Edmi and it was just a beautiful moment.

Now I’m struggling to hold back the tears. I’m trying to absorb the moment but also trying to keep myself together. Maybe people would think the tears were just droplets of sweat dripping down my face. I think the moment that saved me, is when Don Pablo started engaging people with handshakes and hellos as he walked up the aisle. At one point he looked like he was running for office.

With the hand off made, Edmi looked radiant as we stepped up onto the altar. I would be remiss if I didn’t mention how wonderful our priest, Padre Juan, was in the entire process of executing the wedding at Concatedral Dulce Nombre de Jesus. He was very nervous about having to do some of the ceremony in English. I told him beforehand that his English was much better than my Spanish. He did an amazing job in a beautiful ceremony filled with genuineness and love. I’m glad we were actually able to give him a round of applause when the ceremony was ending and he told the audience this was his first wedding in English.

I hope I haven’t bored you with too many details but I just felt like sharing a little piece of the day with all of you. Despite the rain it was perfect and I would not have changed a thing…… except maybe the humidity. Of course I would have loved for my Mom and kids to have been there, but they will celebrate with us later in August when we have the bigger reception stateside with friends and family. Tio Oscar & Titi Brenda were missed, as I know Tio grew up in Humacao and for all the world wanted to be present, but for health reasons it was too difficult. The good news is, that thanks to my friends Joe and Omar, all of those people were able to see the wedding through Facetime. Finally, good usage of social media technology.

I also need to mention that part of my WNBC family also surprised me. Darlene Rodriguez and her husband David showed up, which was such a thrill to share the day with friends that are really family, I have no words thankful enough. Finally to all who attended, family and friends of Edmi, who are now my family and friends as well, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for welcoming me into a beautiful group of people. Family is always with you. They are your blood. Friends are chosen. I always say you can find out alot about someone by the friends they spend time with. Edmi truly has surrounded herself with some wonderful people and I couldn’t be happier that I now get to share them with her.

So the journey continues. There is life after loss & pain. Stop and listen and be still and you will receive what you need to heal. It’s not always easy. Be easy on yourselves however.

If you made it this far…..thank you….gracias…..

Sunshine Always!

The post A Downpour of Love appeared first on Weathering Your 50s & Beyond.

It’s been awhile since I sat down to write again for “What’s Next Chris”. Between having the website hacked, job changes within a job change, moving and purchasing a home, oh and yes, getting married, it’s been a tad busy. Don’t get me wrong, the majority of these things fall into the category of good to excellent events in one’s life.

Lately I’ve been missing communicating with the world this way. Despite being in the communication business it can often be limiting in how one is allowed to communicate. In the world of television, most of what we do is formatted to our purpose for being there. In my case, talking about the weather.

In this forum, I can wax on about pretty much anything. I suppose it’s a bit therapeutic and selfish on my part in one regard, but I do hope the things I write about shed some light or even make just one person reevaluate their lives or feel better about the day. In other words, whatever small positive I can add gives me purpose for writing these words and putting them out into the universe.

When I first started out with this site I was told most successful bloggers wrote regularly, but kept their pieces short. So with that, what did I generally do? I wrote long form pieces on a rather irregular basis. Such is dealing with myself, the contrarian.

With that in mind this is just a reintroduction of sorts to those who had been following loyally over the last 4 years. I apologize for any redundancy. Add to the fact I’ve entered into my next decade (my 60s) and during that time I’ve developed the habit of occasionally repeating myself.

As many of you know and perhaps some newcomers who don’t, I lost my wife to a rare blood cancer over 7 years ago. In addition, in July 2019, I lost my 24 year WNBC career. To find out more about that and much more, please go back in the archives and start with my first blog which pretty much sets the stage for all that has followed.

I will pick up here with the next biggest event in my life. My marriage to the most special partner I could have been blessed with, the one and only Edmi De Jesus. All of this seems to be happening very quickly. However as fast as it feels the more right it feels for me to be in this relationship.

Being a romantic and a bit of a traditionalist at heart, I decided to pop the question last November. Against all odds she said YES!!! I’m saying that jokingly……sort of. We did the City Hall Wedding in April, actually on my birthday. Both my son and daughter were there as witnesses as well as another dear friend. It was actually a warmer and more romantic event than I thought it would be. In fact the non-crier of the two of us actually cried, which was a sweet thing to see. If you know me, I’m usually the crier and Edmi turns and looks at me and says “are you crying???!!!” It’s happened on numerous occasions in our travels when I’m moved by where I am and what I’m seeing. I’ll share some photos from the wedding day at the end of this blog.

In closing, I’m writing this as I’m about to fly down to Puerto Rico for the second version of our wedding. This one is taking place in a beautiful church in the town of Humacao. It’s the church in which Edmi’s parents were married. Her Dad, who is 91 years young will be walking her down the aisle. The thought of that might just make my tear machine open for business again. Hopefully I don’t embarrass myself.

Again, I write about these things to encourage those who have suffered great losses to know there is life after the pain. You may not have to get married again or start another job in the same profession. I just say find peace within yourself first. Once you reach that point, you are better equipped to hear and see and feel what the universe is sending you.

Sunshine Always!!!

The post Me Married?? Again??? appeared first on Weathering Your 50s & Beyond.

I haven’t written a blog in quite some time. I suppose for an assortment of reasons, less free time, feeling I had nothing relevant to write, or maybe just afraid of what I was going to spew out. I’ve really tried to purposely minimize my exposure to political issues in media and social media. The usual Us vs. Them mentality just gets exhausting and sad. Do what you may(within the law), believe what you want and voice your opinions on these matters. Lately however, more and more, I see a distinct sense of a self-righteousness* coming through in people’s expression of their opinions. These views are often just perspectives from oneselves eyes and ears and do not define right or wrong. I personally live in a world that’s very grey, or at least variably cloudy. Black and white are not the same as like or dislike, nor agree or disagree. These are opinions.

Actually in my heart I believe the problem is much bigger. It’s the total loss of empathy from a large part of the population. The following is a quote I came across recently and have to say it’s certainly food for thought. It’s a quote from Bill Bullard.

“Opinion is really the lowest form of human knowledge. It requires no accountability, no understanding. The highest form of knowledge… is empathy, for it requires us to suspend our egos and live in another’s world. It requires profound purpose larger than the self kind of understanding.”

― Bill Bullard

*Definition of self-righteous (Merriam-Webster definition)

: convinced of one’s own righteousness especially in contrast with the actions and beliefs of others : narrow-mindedly moralistic

*Wikipedia Description

Self-righteousness, also called sanctimoniousness, sententiousness and holier-than-thou attitudes^[1][2] is a feeling or display of (usually smug) moral superiority^[3] derived from a sense that one’s beliefs, actions, or affiliations are of greater virtue than those of the average person. Self-righteous individuals are often intolerant of the opinions and behaviors of others.^[4] A self-righteous person might also be described as expressing disinterest in seeking an unselfish or objective standard of right and wrong, independently of how they interact with other people.

With all of this as pretext I want to vent a bit about behavior I am noticing amongst the humanoids that is getting far too common, IMO. I share the following.

Something in NYC that continues to bloom into a more convoluted issue in getting around the city is the use of Citi-Bikes. We hear about people on bikes being struck by speeding drivers and the city responds by reducing speed limits and increasing the number of cameras around town to issue tickets automatically. While there is no question safety should come first for all and anyone driving recklessly in the city, or anywhere for that matter, should be punished. However, more often than not, in my observations, I see people on Citi-Bikes often riding the wrong way on streets, going against traffic. Passing through red lights and stop signs. Many times barely missing pedestrians who are looking at cars from the proper direction to step off the curb and being blindsided by a cyclist.

Yet I hear no cry or threat from the mayor or city councils to do anything about the very dangerous and somewhat self-righteous behavior of these law breaking vehicles on the streets. This is not a one-way problem, but yet continues to get treated that way. All I hear is “drivers are the problem”. In my opinion much of the city and its boroughs are not ideally suited for thousands of bikes to be a significant mode of transportation on the already crowded streets. Nice idea, but this city is too congested already between commuters, taxis, Ubers & Lyfts, limos and electric scooters let alone pedicabs. Yet we make separate lanes for bikers with separate traffic lights for them and many continue to travel about as if they were 8 years old, back in the day, riding their bike on the sidewalks of Brooklyn or Queens, aimlessly and irresponsibly dangerous. Only problem is it’s not in some quiet bucolic neighborhood, it’s in the heart of one of the busiest cities in the world.

Case in point, I was pulling out from my parking space on 48th street between 6th & 5th avenue recently. That street faces east and I was parked on the left side(north side) of the street. There is a designated bike lane right next to me on the side I’m pulling out from. While I slowly do this, I need to look in my side and rear view mirrors to make sure I’m clear to pull out. In addition, as is typical, trucks and cars ahead of me are double parked making deliveries etc. As I pull out looking behind me to insure I’m safe to get into the street and flow of traffic, a bicyclist comes flying at me from the wrong way and I slam on my brakes to avoid a collision. This is then followed by another 4-5 Citi-bikers doing the same thing.

In frustration I roll down my window and yelled “you’re all going the wrong way”! No inappropriate adjectives or adverbs were used, although plenty were swirling in my head. What was the response I received? Well, typical of this self-righteous world we live in today, I got a resounding “F@ck you as$hole”! Isn’t that special? Of course if I were to have struck them accidentally, I would likely be sued and in court.

There is a problem here. Not just bike riders, but drivers and pedestrians all going about doing as they please and owning it as if it’s their right to go against any existing traffic law because they think, “I can make this”.

“Insanity in individuals is something rare – but in groups, parties, nations and epochs, it is the rule.” — Friedrich Nietzsche

So in wrapping this up as quickly as I can, I will only say, it’s just sad and frustrating to watch social graces just deteriorating before our eyes. The world is constantly changing and evolving both physically and socially, but honestly, if society in this country were a sports team, we are on a long losing streak at the moment. Personally, I try to be optimistic about things, but right now I’m not holding onto too much hope of snapping out of it anytime soon. When fear of some harm coming your way stops you from pointing out a wrong……well we have lost our way.

The post Citi-Bikers….Microcosm of Bigger Problems? appeared first on Weathering Your 50s & Beyond.

It comes from the 19th century dog fights. In those fights, two dogs attacked each other and the loser was termed the ‘underdog’. The winner was termed as ‘top dog’. However, though the expression is originally American, the first recorded use of underdog was seen in descriptions of people by British newspapers.

Definition of underdog

1: a loser or predicted loser in a struggle or contest2: a victim of injustice or persecution

Examples of underdog in a Sentence

 I always root for the underdog instead of the favorite. As a lawyer, she consistently represented the underdog.

With the latest against all odds run of the St. Peter’s Peacocks in the NCAA National Championship Tournament, next to “Cinderella Story”, the more often used term, underdog has been resonating throughout not just the sports world, but even the circles of those who can’t discern the difference between a free-throw and a slam dunk.

I don’t profess to be a big basketball fan. I was a fan of the NY Knicks many moons ago. A team with names like Reed, Frazier, DeBusshere, Bradley and Earl the Pearl Monroe. We are talking late 60s into the 70s. I remember the Knicks of 1969 & 1973 and outside of some good years with Ewing & Starks and company, it’s really been slim pickings.

Again I digress. The purpose of this blog is to discuss the lure of rooting for the underdog. Is it just because we enjoy seeing the unexpected and like to be surprised? Is it because most of us identify more with the underdog? Are their people out there that would admit to not liking the underdog? (Probably Yankee fans……just kidding….sort of…..)

As a sports fan, I am cursed with no other choice but pulling for the underdog. None of the teams I support have ever been categorized as being part of a winning dynasty. With the Mets, Jets, Rangers & Knicks the joy of attaining the pinnacle and a championship are less frequent than seeing a total solar eclipse. Or at least it seems that way.

I tend to think that more of us identify our own lives to the underdog. Many of us tend to live thinking the world is working against us and if something good happens it’s very rare and should be celebrated, but never assumed. I recently had a discussion with a friend saying that it’s even been to the point in my life where when things are going really well, I’m already looking around for something to derail them. I don’t deserve it. How could I be happy when their is so much misery going on around me in other people’s lives. Through some therapy and self analyzing I realized how this is not a healthy perspective. It is not truth, unless YOU decide to make it YOUR truth.

Some of this stems perhaps from Catholic guilt. Being raised in a lower-middle class Archie Bunker type Queens neighborhood, the belief generally was that big things never happened to people like us. While there’s nothing wrong with aspiring to get a city job or government work with good benefits and a decent salary, it often had to take the place of the dream career that many of us may have had. Those aspirations were not for reality, but were to be kept in the fantasy category.

I bring this up as I tried to figure out the root of my almost addictive approach to pulling for the underdog. The truth is, I’m just projecting my life through these teams. While I’ve done much better on the personal level from not feeling like the underdog or more importantly not guilty or undeserving of my successes, I’m still always struggling with true confidence. I now believe underdogs are a necessary entity to success. No matter how much you believe going into pursuing something that you will succeed, the satisfaction of achievement is felt because part of you wasn’t sure it would happen. Otherwise, the word success wouldn’t exist. It’s there because of the times of not succeeding.

I will end it here. I’m hoping for some of you that the takeaway will be the following: it’s OK to feel like an underdog occasionally, it’s OK to not always feel confident, but it’s not OK to believe these to be the perpetual truth. We all have our chance in life to shine if we are willing to take chances. When the feeling of being the underdog creeps into my head or my heart I now turn that around into a strength. As an underdog, there’s actually less pressure due to less expectations. For me personally that allows me to move forward more confidently. However, the first thing that any of us must do is to get ourselves into the game, much like that rag-tag St. Peters basketball team. If you are afraid of failure then you will never have the rewarding feeling of success, unless you act on it.

As a legendary New York Met once said in 1973, “Ya Gotta Believe”! Thanks for that Tug McGraw.

Sunshine Always!

The post What’s in an Underdog? appeared first on Weathering Your 50s & Beyond.

www.imeanttotellyou.com

As I enter my fourth week back on the air after a 2.5 year hiatus, I thought it was time to both reflect a little and look forward as well. Despite some confusion, it was not my choice to leave my past employer. I don’t want to waste any more time on that. It’s over. It’s what happens in the business I’ve chosen to make a career.

That being said, it was also a much needed break to reevaluate things. With the pandemic hitting just a few months after my 24 year career ended, it created an assortment of perspective and possible career changes. The list kept growing. I registered to substitute teach, to be certified as a private online tutor, studied for, and achieved my NY State Real Estate License and finally, became a background person for various TV shows and films. In addition, I worked on several personal projects ranging from a podcast to cooking, travel and personal healing online shows.

After a year or so of being on the sidelines, I would occasionally throw my hat in the ring for some weather openings. I won’t go into details about the who, what, when and where of the job opportunities. I will say I was often left with little to no response. A part-time position was offered, but it just didn’t fit my life at that point. Others showed interest and then ghosted me. I truly was about to accept the fact that a return to TV weather was not going to happen.

I had signed up for several of these online job listing websites and constantly would receive emails for various jobs. In the meantime I was trying to launch my real estate career. I soon realized, while I really enjoyed the real estate industry and showing homes, as well as trying to find the right fit for clients, it takes quite some time to build a list of clientele. At my age I started to feel that by the time I got it rolling, I would be ready to retire. So I turned to other sources of possible income.

That’s where the background acting jobs came in. Without revealing any details, I worked on shows for Apple TV, Netflix, Amazon as well as movies, HBO, Showtime and Starz. I had the great privilege of working with Morgan Freeman and Paul Giamatti to name a couple. That being said, this was just another interesting experience, but primarily a placeholder.

As I live more of my life, I tend to believe what’s meant to happen will happen. I often think the script is already written and I might be one of the only people who doesn’t have a copy. So how did I end up at WPIX and back in the weather seat?

I was sifting through job openings and randomly saw a meteorologist opening from Nexstar in New York City. I knew nothing about the job or what it really entailed, but I just hit the send resume button with very little thought behind it. Lo and behold, less than 10 minutes later, I received a response requesting an interview. For the sake of privacy on both sides, I won’t get into details about how we came to our agreement, suffice to say at least to this point all parties are very happy.

The feeling of being wanted and respected again in a career in which I’ve spent nearly 40 years was both overwhelming and reinvigorating. For that, I cannot thank the management at Nexstar and WPIX-TV enough for giving me this opportunity.

My regular duties started out delivering the weather 4-6AM, Monday to Friday, every 10 minutes. In addition, in June of 2022, I began co-hosting a daily one hour lifestyle show with Marysol Castro from 10-11AM. That was great fun to stretch out and try something new on a daily basis. I got to meet some amazing people through interviews, shoot some fun pieces in the field, and make a new friend in Marysol Castro. I don’t know what it is with me and the Boriquas.

So upon the update to the original post on my previous website/blog, I have now moved to a new shift at PIX11 News. I now deliver the weather from 4-5PM & 6-7PM. I’m sort of a Mr. G sandwich, as he delivers the weather from 5-6PM and again 10-11PM. I’m quickly coming upon my 2 year anniversary at PIX. It truly is amazing how quickly time goes by. I am enjoying the sleep and no alarm clock schedule for the first time in my 30 year plus TV career, let alone prior morning radio work.

Last but not least, I have to take a moment to thank all of you. Family, friends, viewers, social media kinships etc. Without your constant support and encouragement I clearly wouldn’t be here today. You got me through some very dark times and you helped me weather the storms both meteorologically and emotionally. I will never ever forget that, and would only hope to have the chance to thank many of you individually. It’s a long list and I often feel I’m not deserving. However, I am truly blessed and fortunate to have your love and support and I intend to honor that by doing the best I can as I finish out my career over the next (hopefully) several years to come.

See you on the screen. Sunshine Always!!!

The post Weathering the Changes in Life appeared first on Weathering Your 50s & Beyond.

There’s no simple way around it. If you’ve suffered loss in this pandemic, my heart goes out to you and yours. If you or someone close to you became very ill and went through a long hospitalization, but has made it through to the other side of recovery, then celebrate in your victory. For most of us, we have been fortunate enough to be spectators or recipients of a much gentler version of the virus.

As we head into dealing with this latest variant of the virus, it is sadly once again threatening to throw the holiday season into a state of anxiety and unnaturalness. I think I speak for many of us when I say, I am tired. This has been a long road and we were hoping it would have ended a year ago. Yet here we are.

We have found ways to get back some of the joys of our lives, granted, with some new rules and restrictions in place.

In any event, my point I suppose, is that while things certainly aren’t the way we might prefer them to be around this time of year, we are finding our way. Holidays, and how we celebrate from year to year, is often relative to our own personal lives. Some years it seems everything is perfect. We are surrounded by our family and friends happy & healthy. Other years we may have suffered the recent loss of a close family member or friend, perhaps we have lost our jobs or battling serious illness.

I’ve had my share of emotionally different holiday seasons. I prefer to reflect on the difficult ones in such a way as to make the wonderful years that much sweeter and appreciated. Many are fortunate and see very little change from year to year, but as we all know, change is inevitable. To them I say, take nothing for granted. Appreciate that warm and complete feeling of happiness for every second it exists.

Even though this is going to be my 6th holiday season since my wife passed through this world, Christmas especially brings back the memories in a tidal wave. During the rest of the year the memories are triggered less often and usually with less intensity. For those who are dealing with a huge loss for the first time this year, I hope you can tap into the good times, the memories that will trigger a smile on your face without even realizing it’s there. You WILL survive. You WILL move on and live life. It won’t be the same, but things constantly change.

These are the more monumental changes of course, but I’m trying to tell you it will be OK. You will cry again and again and again. Don’t deny it, as your feelings are your guide to healing, if you listen and respect them enough.

I’m not sure why I went this route with this blog, but I suppose I’m just expressing what I still feel every time the holidays roll around. It so happens this year I have some friends and family dealing with the loss of important loved ones in their lives. I send my love and good tidings to all of you.

Now onto something hopefully more uplifting. I’ve been working on a project called “I Meant to Tell You”. We have released 4 episodes so far and you can find the links here. In upcoming episodes I will be sharing my I Meant to Tell You story, as well as a fascinating part II from the episode called A Father/Son Story. It deals with a WWII prisoner of war escape amongst a small group of soldiers from South Africa.

Please have a look. We would love for you to be part of the series by sharing your “I Meant to Tell You” stories with us. If you would prefer I interview you and we record it or you record it on your own we are flexible as to how it’s done logistically. The important part, is the story, that we hope both heal and inspire others.

Here are the links to our episodes(please subscribe to our YouTube channel) and check out our website which includes inspirational information and bonus live music videos from our travels……hope you like it.

https://www.imeanttotellyou.com/

Finally, don’t forget about our podcast The Middle Age Warriors on the Bleav podcast network. We’ve had some amazing guests in our 72 shows.

The latest podcast, Rick Sommers and I reflect on Christmas, Omicron, NY Mets off-season moves and much more.

https://bleav.com/shows/bleav-in-middle-age-warriors/

Thanks for all of your support through the year and beyond. Have a happy and most importantly healthy holiday and New Year. See you in 2022 with hopefully some good news!

The post Tis’ the Season to Be…..?? appeared first on Weathering Your 50s & Beyond.

We would really love to hear from you. Just click on the email address below this and leave your name, location and contact information, ie. email, phone and a couple of lines telling us about the words “you meant to tell”. That’s it. We will then contact you to discuss more about getting the project done and the rest is your story and our editing. We really need all of you for this to get some momentum and hopefully help many hearts heal across the world. We definitely could use that right about now, more than ever. So go ahead and click on the email link and share your thoughts with us.

We still plan on launching the series officially on November 15th. To start, we will have a new episode each week, but would hope we can increase that as the stories and videos come into us.

I’ve put together a website, www.imeanttotellyou.com, as well as a YouTube channel, I Meant to Tell You. Please follow and subscribe if you haven’t already and email us with any thoughts or suggestions for any of the products we are launching with the series.

Most importantly we NEED YOU to support us by being willing participants on the show. While we have had some great stories and been able to complete some episodes, many others have started the process and then abandoned us. We certainly understand the apprehension as we are asking you to reveal and say something that’s very personal to you and potentially putting it out there for the world to see and hear.

I have personally done a segment and have to say it brought me closer to the person who is sadly no longer with us. I relished going back in my heart and head to some of the many fun moments I had with this person. I really think we all have someone we meant to tell something to but just missed our chance. This series is truly giving you that opportunity to say those words in your own way to help heal or reach some type of closure.

Please have a look at a sample preview so you can see how tastefully done the stories are told. All of you have the final say as to what we present on “I Meant to Tell You”.

The post Words Yet to Say….. appeared first on Weathering Your 50s & Beyond.

 I have not posted very much recently to this blog. The reason is quite apropos to the name of this blog. I ve been  trying to figure out what’s next for me. In addition to my real estate work I’ve taken on trying some substitute teaching and some tutoring freelance work. Lately, I’ve been busy getting gigs as a background figure for some TV shows and movies. 

With all of this going on, I’ve decided to put our podcast The Middle Age Warriors on a hiatus.  Hopefully my buddy Rick Sommers and I will be able to get a new show up shortly. 

I have also been working with Edmi in refining our cooking segment. “Chris & Edmi’s Kitchen”.  That also is on a temporary hiatus.  

All of that being said, I am very excited to talk about a new project we began working on since early August. 

It’s called, “I Meant to Tell You”… and we want all of YOU to be part of it. (Details will follow at the end of the blog)

The show was conceived initially from conversations I had with my friend & podcast partner Rick Sommers. He was talking about an idea for a book. I won’t get too detailed about that as it is his future project. However, that conversation with Rick spawned another idea developed between Edmi and myself. 

In thinking about the sad situation we’ve been dealing with since the pandemic, where many people who lost loved ones could not be with them in the end, we began talking about words left unsaid. 

We started to think about the various people in our lives who cross paths with us and leave a positive impact, but we didn’t get the chance to tell them in person just how important they were nor how grateful we are.

Hence, the series idea for “I Meant to Tell You….”

With this project, we hope to give people from all around the world the chance to express what they truly feel in words and put it out into the universe, even if the intended recipients are no longer physically with us. In addition we wish for these stories to inspire others today to not wait. To not have those “I Meant to Tell You” moments, by saying what you feel to someone now and not later.

I’ve been working on setting up a website, Instagram account and YouTube Channel for “I Meant to Tell You” and all of this will launch in stages. We expect everything to be completed and up and running in November.

The thing this project needs most, is all of YOU. I Meant to Tell You is in the business of trying to bring peace and love to your own heart and soul as well as others. This is a project built for everyone. We all have stories. We all carry something we haven’t said, but feel we need to.

So I will be asking all of you to think about your own life experiences for your “I Meant to Tell You…”, moments, as well as spread the word to others.

If you have any interest or questions about the series as well as any submissions please send them to: imeant2tellu@gmail.com

We have already received submissions from the U.K. to Canada as well as east coast to west of the US. Here’s just a little snippet of some of what we are doing.

The post Here’s What’s Next…. appeared first on Weathering Your 50s & Beyond.

So why those two dreams for a future career?

1969 was a year of many strange and significant events in this country. In particular, in New York and for the sports teams of this town. The shocking predicted upset in the Super Bowl by the Jets leader, Joe Willie Namath. The New York Knicks Willis Reed led World Championship, but most incredible and impactful for me, the Miracle Mets World Series victory over the heavily favored Baltimore Orioles. I had only become a Met fan at the age of 6, a year or so earlier, and here was my team, World Champions. I loved that team and to this day remember every player, his number and many other stats as well. Ask me what I had for lunch yesterday and I would struggle to remember. Ask me Cal Koonce’s number and I could tell you today. It was 34.

This miracle victory from the heavily underdogged Mets created a lifelong love of the game of baseball. It also has punished me with being a New York Mets fan for life, whether I like it or not. Finally, in a broader sense of meaning, it has left me with the tendency to always pull for the underdog. It’s with who I have always identified.

So of course I dreamed of what it would be like to play for the Mets. To walk on the field of Shea Stadium in my uniform wearing number 3, that was the number of my favorite Met back then, shortstop Bud Harrelson. “Now batting…….batting…batting….number three…three…three. The centerfielder………Chris……Cimino….ino…ino…ino…” I had just started playing Little League at this point and had no reason to believe from my performance that I would ever be considered good enough to even make a high school baseball team, let alone a major league team.

The other thing that happened in February of 1969 was a huge crippling snowstorm to hit New York City. In New York, the snow removal responsibility falls on the sanitation department. Huge plows and salters are attached to the trucks to help clear the streets and melt the snow and ice. Keep in mind, the five boroughs that make up New York City, include approximately 8000 miles of streets.

In many cases the trucks were stationed in different facilities from where the plows were stored. I’m sure this was done to conserve space and made better economic sense. However, it did require having an accurate forecast to give enough lead time to insure the trucks could get to where the plows were and have them attached in a timely fashion. Of course it didn’t help that 40% of the plows were inoperable and that the mayoral administration was at odds with the Sanitation Dept. and was coming off of a strike barely a year prior.

Considering this was truly the spawning event for my love of meteorology, I was too young to remember what the local media forecasts were predicting. Apparently, upon researching, it was a forecast for some snow quickly changing to rain. Well, 15 inches later of snow not changing to rain, resulted in a disaster for the city. Of course this would never happen today(insert throat clear).

That being said, the storm paralyzed the entire city, especially the outer boroughs like Queens. I lived on 107th Avenue in Ozone Park, Queens. It was a fairly busy two way avenue cutting through the tree-lined streets of residential row homes. With much of the sanitation trucks having not been prepared to gear up for such a big storm it took nearly four days before our streets were plowed.

The normally busy avenue became a winter wonderland and playground for all of us. I remember it feeling so incredible and freeing. The power of nature and how it could change our lives was planted in my heart and soul with that storm. Something that lasted all of my life and steered the majority of my adult life and career path.

More on the meteorological career path later. This brings us to dream number two. Becoming a New York Met. Obviously any of you reading this know, that clearly did not happen. However, I continued to play baseball in the Ozone-Howard Little League. After stumbling a bit between the ages of 8 to 11, I started to become a better ball player as I approached becoming a teen-ager. I was generally an outfielder, usually centerfield. I can remember unknowingly, practicing my broadcasting future, while passing the often long idle time between ever getting a ball hit to me in the outfield. I would announce the game in a hushed tone and make my little comments about the players on the other team.

By the time I was 13 going on 14 it was my last year to qualify to play in Little League. The level was called the Senior grade. I had a manager that last season who had been in the league coaching for as long as I could remember. He had a son who played, so basically coached his team through the years as his boy went up through the ranks.

His son had an unusual nickname. He was known as “Movin'”. Reason? When he ran his arms and legs were moving fast and rather erratically. Honestly he had more motion up and down and sideways in his body that did not translate very well in propelling him forward. You had to see it in person to understand. Running down the first baseline he probably burned 5 times as many calories getting there than most of us, however he also took 5 times as long.

At the end of the season there was always an All-Star team chosen. Our team had won the championship that year. That was the only time in the 7 years I played in the league that it occurred. I had a very good season both offensively and defensively. I was not a power hitter, but I was a contact guy and got on base often. The manager of the All-Star team that year was the manager of our championship team and father of Movin’. I’ll call him Mr. N in going forward with the story.

I can remember when I was younger watching him manage on teams I played against and being intimidated. He would yell at the umpires and had a very loud booming voice. Even when he was encouraging his own players it felt like he was yelling at them. I use to think to myself, I hope this guy never drafts me for his team.

Well lo and behold my very last season he did. I have to say that once you were on that side of the fence with him, there was nobody else I would rather play for. He always had your back. He may have been loud, but that was more about lighting some fire in you. He knew how to push some kids and coddle others. Biggest lesson learned to use a cliche. Don’t judge a book by it’s cover.

So now I’m on the All-Star team. Mr. N wanted me as his starting centerfielder. Could this be the start of my dream? Uh…. no. In fact it was probably the start of the end of the dream.

The summer of being in the All-Star tournament is still one in which I relish all of the memories. Coach, Mr. N, worked us hard. We practiced every day of the week except Sundays I believe. The practice would last hours in the hot late June sunshine. We had intense running and fielding drills. Practiced all possible game day situations and how we should execute certain plays. Batting practice for everyone until your shoulders ached. It was great. I’ll never forget him bringing out this huge cooler filled with ice and Gatorade. Drinking something cold never felt so refreshing and rewarding at the same time.

After a week or so of intense practice it was time to play our first game. I don’t remember the exact structure of how our opponents were chosen, but I remember they were against various teams from Queens. We won the first couple of games very convincingly. We started to believe we could win. This was really territory none of us had sniffed before.

Mr. N’s. son, Movin, was along for the ride as our bench coach. He had developed this pre-game gathering of the team in the dugout, putting our hands all in and chanting, “1-2-3……kick ass”!!!! Not the most sophisticated chant from a bunch of 13 & 14 year olds. In a way, it gave us some swagger. We viewed ourselves as a ragtag bunch of players who weren’t really suppose to be here, but you better take us seriously.

The next game was against a team from Brooklyn and we had to go play it on their home field. Leading up to the game some information was leaked to us about how the crowd and neighborhood we were about to encounter, was not going to be very welcoming to us or our families that came to cheer us on. I’m sure things got blown out of proportion, but things such as, “you’re not getting out of here if you beat us”, were bandied about in hushed tones.

As it turned out, we beat them very easily. I had my best game so far, going 3 for 4 with 3 RBI’s. Once the Brooklyn faithful realized they were not going to beat us, the crowd actually lightened up, at least according to my parents, they were friendly and joking around with our fanbase.

This was now getting serious, as we were only a victory away from getting to the NY state championship game. From there we would get into the national tournament and have to travel. If memory serves me, I believe it would have been somewhere in Indiana. We were already beyond the age of the Little League World Series tournament we all know from TV that is played in Williamsport, PA. As seniors, we were in a different tournament.

Movin’, in his pre-game pep talks, would start whispering about how pretty the girls would be in Indiana. I guess he felt this would motivate a bunch of pimple faced young boys teetering on puberty. He had become quite the cheerleader and also liked to be a part of what was happening on the field, even if he wasn’t actually a player on the roster.

As an outfielder I had a fairly large glove and became comfortable catching a ball with one hand, just the glove hand.   No guiding the ball into your glove with your other hand stuff for me. Whether the ball was hit right at me, or I had to extend my reach to snare it, I would pretty much just open up that big glove and swallow up the ball. Honestly I had much more confidence in my ability in the playing field defensively than I did at the plate offensively.

So the Ozone-Howard Senior Division All-Star team was motoring through quite a few teams from Queens & Brooklyn. Before the next game , which I believe was for the local district championship, Movin decided to pass along a Movin-ism to me.  He said, “Chris, you’re making me nervous when you catch those fly balls with one hand, can’t you use two hands sometimes?”  I, in my always diplomatic way said, “Oh sure, I’ll try” when in my head I knew I would try no such thing. Why mess with success.  

So off we go onto the field to start the top of the first inning of this very important game. Fast forward to two men out and a man on third base. The next batter hits a high, lazy flyball right at me in centerfield. If I had to move my feet one stride from where I was positioned it was a lot.  As I line the ball up, what words come into my head?  “Chris, can’t you catch the ball with two hands”. 

I figured this was an easy one to quiet him from pestering me and I would go with two hands this one time and put an end to this discussion.  Well, you know when you try and do something a little different from what you’re so used to doing and it somehow screws things up. Yes, I put up my bare hand hand next to my glove as the ball was coming down and I briefly lost sight of it for a fraction of a second. Apparently that’s all it took for me to move my glove to the wrong spot for the ball to nestle into. I felt a thud on the heel of my glove and then nothing. The ball hit the grass. I vaguely remember hearing some groaning from the crowd. I quickly reached down and threw the ball back into the infield.  The damage was done and the run had scored.  I turned my back to the field and wanted to crawl into a hole, if I could dig one fast enough.

Seconds later I heard a voice saying “son…..son….son…look at me”.  It was the second base umpire who came out to see me in centerfield.  In so many words he said “you’ve got to shake that off and forget about it. You are here because you are a good ball player, just remember that. Forget what just happened. ” 

As weeks and eventually years went on, I could only have wished everyone else would have decided to forget what just happened. I’ll get to that shortly.

The fact is, the dropped fly ball did not cost us the game. In fact we won the game. Another in fact, while I’m in facting away, I remember bunting for a hit to start off the last inning and scoring the go ahead and winning run, as we went on to a 6-4 victory.  Dropped flyball? Who dropped a fly ball?  I can’t remember, can you?

Well, as things become legendary in life, like an off camera softly spoken f-word becoming an F-Bomb heard around the world, the dropped flyball was not going away.  I do remember, to his credit, Movin coming up to me and actually apologizing for suggesting the two handed catch.  If only it all ended there.

It really wasn’t immediate, but I do remember the Dad of our third baseman, who I will just call Mr. S, always bringing it up whenever I would see him. Years later, playing on a softball team with his son, if I bumped into him it was always, “hey Chris , you still have that glove with the spring in it?”  Funny line.  Once or twice, but not for eternity. 

There would also be other occasions, when with friends from the team, while reminiscing, I would hear, “Oh, remember that time you dropped that flyball?”  Thanks guys, but do you really have to preface it with “do you remember“ when you’re all constantly reminding me?  I’m sure in reality, if you were to ask them today, they would tell you they never brought it up.

The last reference I will make to the dropped flyball unfortunately is one that is tied to tragedy. 

I don’t have exact dates, but about 7 or 8 years later, Movin tragically and suddenly died from a heart issue.

So many things about this were shocking. First of all, young people our age don’t die.  That’s not how this is supposed to go. This was still a young mother and fathers’ child. How could this happen?   It was more numbing to me at that time than it was heartbreaking, if you can understand how at 21 years old, you can’t quite frame things emotionally. 

I attended the wake along with a buddy, as I couldn’t do it alone.  We walked in and I remember seeing him there, looking just like Movin’, only sleeping.  He was quite the football player in his high school years and I remember seeing some of those pieces of memorabilia adorning the coffin. 

The toughest part as we approached, was seeing Mr. N.  This proud, strong, tough SOB who fought for all of his players and had leadership qualities many wished for, was now broken.  It’s something I can’t, nor ever want to even think about, but losing a child, at any age, is the worst tragedy I could imagine.  His heart was broken.

As Mr. N saw me approach, his crying became louder.  He grabbed me in this massive bearhug and was just crying and wailing. Then the words came. “Chris…..Chris…Chris….do you remember that time….. when you dropped that flyball?” 

Well, the moment was so surreal, I almost didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I remember sneaking a peek at my friend who was right behind me and he had the same strange look on his face, as if to say “ I don’t know what to do or say”.

However, as Mr. N continued to hug me and cry I felt something else from him.  I felt love.  I felt those words were actually about how he maybe wanted to comfort me from the pain of the dropped flyball. I think he was in so much pain, that some type of fatherly instinct kicked in and he reflected it on me in bringing up the most delicate thing that had happened in his experience with me as my coach.  In some strange way, maybe this dropped flyball was a deeper more positive connecting event in our lives.  

I never really got the chance to see or speak with him again.  Life’s journey took me out of the state and eventually into starting my own family and career. However, through the years I never forgot the book ending events. From the dropped flyball, to the tearfilled hug. I’m still not totally clear on all of the emotions the reflection on that memory brings me, but I know when something that happened 45 years ago in your life and it still feels powerful when you think about it, there is a reason.

All I can say in closing…… thanks Mr. N for the chance to experience playing in the All-Stars and for giving me the opportunity to drop that flyball. To Mr. S, No, I no longer have that glove with the spring in it! 

Sunshine Always!

The post To Err is Human….To Be Human Can Hurt appeared first on Weathering Your 50s & Beyond.

In this extra segment from the show, Craig, Chris & Rick share thoughts on the past, present and future of a career in TV weather. Lots of interesting background to how they got to where they are today, as well as what the future may hold for those who look to follow in their footsteps. Craig and Chris also talk about their weather mentors in growing up and the value of that impact on their lives and careers.

Finally, you’ll hear some very interesting and enlightening information about Super Storm Sandy and what it was like living through it as a TV and radio meteorologist. From the controversial political side of it to the meteorological uniqueness of the event, if you have any interest in weather you will want to hear this.

If you came here without listening to the actual podcast here it is……..

Have a listen, we hope you enjoy and feel free to venture back into the Middle Age Warrior catalogue of shows.

Thank you if you’ve gotten this far……..Sunshine Always!!!

The post More Weather….More Weather!!! appeared first on Weathering Your 50s & Beyond.

Lenny Falcone, who was a year ahead of me in school and went on to become a lawyer, has also become an author. I think initially he was more surprised than anyone about someone wanting to publish his work. This unforeseen opportunity somehow triggered Lenny to reach out to me, after reading several of my blogs and knowing my story since childhood. He thinks I have a book to write. Perhaps, just a series of short stories. He encouraged me to begin with my childhood love story. So here is my first short story describing the circumstances leading to my first expression of being in love.

It was June , 1975. I was on the cusp of my 8th grade graduation from Nativity BVM, a private elementary Catholic school. One of the traditions for the graduating class was a trip north to Rye Playland. It was an amusement park about 35 miles north of the school, which at that time in my life, seemed like journeying to the hinterland. 

I should point out, the school was located in Ozone Park, Queens, NY.  It was a lower middle class, Archie Bunker type of neighborhood, with closely packed homes that had railroad rooms and often front stoops that were the warm weather season gathering spot. If you lived there you were pretty much either Italian or Irish with maybe a sprinkling of German and Polish. 

On that nearly early summer morning, there were about 100 plus graduating students all gathered in front of the church which was attached to the school grounds. Two big tour buses were pulled up to the curb and ready to take us on this day trip to the park to celebrate the end of eight years with the same group of students, who at this point, felt like family. 

I was hanging with a small group of my guy buddies waiting to board the bus when another friend, a girl, came into my view a few feet away. She was trying to get my attention with a not so inconspicuous flailing of her arms.  She finally succeeded, even though I don’t think any of my friends noticed. She then began to mouth something which I read as, “do you want me to tell her?” “Yes”? At this point I had really forgotten the gist of a phone call I had with her the night before. However, it didn’t take me long to remember.

I think Dolores fancied herself a matchmaker. Yes, an 8th grade matchmaker. We would often talk on the phone about which girl should be with which guy and those that already shared some intimacy. No! Not that kind of intimacy, at least I don’t believe so, but just some kissing. Making out, as the phrase was, became the signature for going out with someone. 

Back to Dolores. The night before the school trip she was asking me which girls I liked. I mentioned a couple I thought were pretty, but one in particular that I liked a lot more.  

I was a very shy young guy.  Especially when it came to girls, although I can tell you stories about those 8th grade Catholic school girls that were a far cry from being termed shy.

The phone call from the prior night concluded with me agreeing to letting her ask this girl, Nancy, if she liked me, and would want to be my girlfriend.  It felt exciting and I was very brave on the phone thinking this would be a great way to ask her out without having to deal directly with any rejection. Yes. Very lame. I never said I was a confident macho guy, that’s for sure. 

In any event, in the excitement of the morning and talking with my buddies I suddenly wasn’t feeling it anymore. When Dolores was doing her final confirmation of putting her mission into action, I just looked at her and gave a dismissive wave of my hand. I was saying, go away and forget about it, without actually saying the words.

Well that didn’t go well with Miss Matchmaker. She stopped in her tracks, shot me a penetrating stare and finished it off with a single foot stomp. It happened over 45 years ago, but I can still close my eyes and relive it. Again, without saying any words, I read it as “are you kidding me!! After everything we talked about last night. I’m making this easy for you and you now want to forget the whole thing? I don’t think so!!”  

I’m not sure she was saying all of that, but that’s how I heard it in my head. So I stopped talking to my friends for a moment and gave her a quick OK. Go ahead with the deed.

As we boarded the bus, Dolores ran up to me to say “well. Don’t you want to know what she said”? I was a little taken aback because I thought she would wait until we got to the amusement park to ask her. No, this matchmaker did not waste any time.

“Ok, what did she say then”, I asked. “She said she likes you”. 

This was like my Rudolph moment when Claris tells him she thinks he’s cute. I wasn’t about to go flying through the air, although I felt like it. My buddies weren’t likely to knock my nose covering off either. For those who don’t know what I’m talking about, I apologize, but go and watch Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. 

The other caveat to telling her early, led to my sitting next to Nancy on the bus for the entire ride to Rye Playland. Oddly I wasn’t nervous.  We had hung out at the bowling alley together months before as we belonged to a school league and often walked home together, not alone, but with others. We only lived a little more than two streets apart. Bottom line was, it wasn’t so awkward, conversation was never an issue for us. 

In fact, when I reflect back further on those days I can remember my friend Fitz writing in magic marker on my bowling ball bag, Chris & Nancy. Fortunately the bag was dark blue and the marker black, so most people couldn’t see it. Of course, because it would have been very embarrassing. Amazing how trite things seem decades later.

When we arrived at the park, without saying the words, let’s hang together, we got off the bus and Nancy and I soon reconnected and pretty much spent the entire day with each other. We may have passed on a ride or two each and been separated for a bit, but it was never for very long. The day was getting hotter and I’m not sure if it was from rides, but I was getting queasy and sweaty. Not a great combination to feel when you are trying to impress someone. 

In 8th grade of course there are always things that evolve from a bit of folklore that become the “thing” to do if you’re cool enough. There was a boat ride at the park that briefly went into a dark tunnel. This was the point, where if you were with your girl, you would kiss her. So of course, it was referred to as the tunnel of love.  The actual name was Ye Old Troll Boat Ride. A far cry from sounding romantic. Nothing says young love like a troll on a boat.

In any event, I kept putting off asking her to go on that ride with me. Now it’s getting later into the day and we are going to be heading back to the buses soon to take the trip back to Queens. One problem, I’m laying flat on my back on a park bench trying not to vomit. The tunnel of love or kissing her weren’t exactly on my mind. Getting through the long bus ride without puking, was however. 

So as I’m laying there on the bench and Nancy is sitting with me, another guy comes up to her and asks to go on the boat ride. Now I’m really sick. I’m fully expecting her to say no. However, what do I hear, but this playfully silly response of “OK”! 

Now I’m thinking, does she know what that boat ride is and what’s going to happen in that tunnel. I’m angry and hurt if she did know and said yes. On the other hand I’m nervous and angry with myself if she didn’t and this guy tries to kiss her unknowingly. Was this what growing up was going to be like?  I’m only 14 and already my head hurts from all of the confusing behavior of people. Love seems to be translating into agita. 

So off she went with another guy to “The Tunnel of Love” and while my stomach was flip flopping, my heart began to sink.  Was I kidding myself that she liked me or would want to be my girlfriend? How naive could I have been?  This was only the beginning of these lifetime inner conversations of self doubt I would have. Little did I know, I would become a Hall of Famer when it comes to self doubt and insecurity. 

 About 10-15 minutes went by and I saw her walking back by herself. I thought, well that was fast, love ‘em and leave ‘em. I asked her what happened and she said the line was too long and they never went on the ride. She got a little lost walking back to find me to make sure I was feeling alright. You can imagine how that made me feel. First of all relieved that that other “jerk” didn’t get her into the “Tunnel of Love”. Secondly, it just warmed my heart that she cared enough to come back and check on me. Maybe this is what being an adult in a relationship was supposed to be like. 

OK Chris. Slow down child, shut off the wedding bells. She just came back to make sure you didn’t vomit on yourself.  

We all boarded the bus for the ride home and I began to feel better. We were collectively riding on the high of a fun day to celebrate heading into, quite frankly, the next stage of life. Dum dum dum!!!! High school. More on that in another chapter. 

I once again sat with Nancy on the ride back. For some reason she started calling me “Doobie”. I never really understood why. It certainly had nothing to do with smoking a “doob” at that point in our lives.  I was just tickled that she came up with a fun nickname for me. She must like me if she gave me a nickname already. Maybe.

In the continuing festivities surrounding our 8th grade graduation, we had our big farewell dance a couple of nights later. I was not much of a dancer and some would say today, that is still quite true. No argument from me. I just care less about what you think at this age I suppose. In continuing with the vein of the trip to Rye Playland, I spent most of the night talking to and dancing with Nancy. At first I was very reluctant to dance, but she did this thing where she held one of my hands much of the time, that somehow made me feel more in control and safe from looking too awkward. 

The dance was chaperoned of course by several parents and all parents were allowed to come for the last hour of the dance. I remember at one point Nancy becoming conscious of her mother being there. Let’s just say from that point, things that felt like they were heating up, got a bit cooler. The hand holding dancing came to an end. In fact, in another one of those folklore customs, it was said that the person you danced with to Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven” was your boyfriend or girlfriend. However, because you had to dance close, Nancy bailed from me and interestingly enough I ended up dancing with the matchmaker, Dolores, of all people. 

I remember leaving that dance all sweaty but flying higher than a kite on a windy day.  I was starting to have that funny feeling in my stomach every time I thought of her. Butterflies and a faster beating heart. I wasn’t really sure what this was, as it was the first time I really experienced it. I do remember closing my eyes as I would go off to sleep for the next few weeks and seeing her as I danced on that night.  June 19th, 1975. Little did I know that this would be my soulmate for the next nearly 41 years.

Yes, this dance partner of my 8th grade celebration eventually became my wife and mother of my children.  Much more to come about that journey. 

Later in life I reflect upon that morning out in front of Nativity BVM church. What if I waved my hand a second time at Dolores to forget about asking Nancy if she was interested in me? What if Dolores didn’t stomp her foot in persistence forcing me to give her the green light to ask? In the scheme of life this doesn’t seem like a big event.  In fact it feels rather small and subtle in action. Little did I know how great it would be in impacting the rest of my life. Easily enough, we could have gone our separate ways and never connected again. I went off to a large public high school and she went to a private all girls Catholic High School. If we didn’t make that connection at the end of 8th grade, perhaps our lives would be so entirely different. At times it’s mind boggling to take that line of thought and try to project forward. It often gives me anxiety to think about that. Then again, what doesn’t give me anxiety?

So thank you Dolores for your persistence. Thank you for not taking my dismissive wave as an answer. That simple exchange set forth a path of destiny for so many people connected to our story of friendship and love. A love story that lasted more than 40 years. Like many others, it wasn’t perfect, but it often felt that way. It was our love story, and it was beautiful, even with a couple of thorns thrown in. Two other amazing human beings came out of that love that I hope experience even half of what Nancy and I had in our long relationship. I see her everyday in both of my beautiful grown children.

If you made it this far thank you……Sunshine Always!!!!

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Sunshine always……..

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So many people were under the impression I retired. I did not. Despite my many attempts to make that clear, people to this day tell me to enjoy my retirement. What can you do?

As weeks and months went by nobody came knocking for my 30 years of broadcast experience. Then something unexpected did come. Covid-19!! So about 6 months after my final paycheck, a pandemic breaks out in the middle of my job search. Once again, I want to say I was very fortunate to have the career I had and the financial stability and good fortune that many others did not going into this pandemic. That being said, I still wanted to work. To have purpose and a place to belong in the working world.

With the extra time on my hands I developed a podcast with my good friend Rick Sommers called Middle Age Warriors. What better time to take on the persona of a warrior than during the midst of a pandemic. We are still doing the podcast and I have had quite a bit of fun doing it and interviewing some wonderful guests. However, while it feels like a job, it is not. Unless of course you are used to working for nothing. I correlate work and pay together, maybe that’s my mistake.

Another venture, spawned by the pandemic, was a cooking segment called Chris & Edmi’s Kitchen that I shot, directed and edited from our apartment kitchen in NYC. It was fun, and still is. However, once again, after doing this for over a year, the work yields lots of dirty dishes but no $$$$$. I attempted a tee-shirt business called Mindful-Tees……nothing…not a sale.

https://chris-place.creator-spring.com/

I played around with other TV show ideas, from game shows to travel shows(useless during a pandemic). I’ve worked on some public speaking concepts, but so has everyone else and their aunt & uncle during this pandemic.

So what to do? I started hearing about some folks getting their real estate licence during the pandemic, as the business was actually heating up, especially in the suburbs where people were fleeing to. I’ve always been interested in shopping for homes and apartments and seeing the different ways to live and call it home. I remembered the different agents I worked with over the years for my moves and I thought this could be fun and challenging at the same time. So I signed up to take the New York State real estate licence course with Real Estate U. It was an in depth 75 hour course taken online. Then you had to pass a proctored final exam off site. Once you passed that you had to pass the official New York State Licence Exam. Doesn’t sound complicated, but during a pandemic making appointments that you could normally arrange a few days in advance, was now taking several weeks. Bottom line is, I passed all the tests, but it took an extra 45-60 days to get the appointments for the exams.

In the meantime, I had been in contact with my cousin who had moved into the real estate business with her husband many years ago. I called them and asked as many questions as I could think of regarding the industry and its current state. They patiently answered them and then some. Fortunately for me, and generously by them, they sponsored me and took me onto their team. So I am now a proud member of the Hardesty Team with Compass real estate company. I say this not just because I am onboard with Compass, but this company is a super tech savvy rapidly growing organization. The tools they provide for their brokers and agents is leagues above the competition. My areas include Westchester County & Manhattan. Of course, once you’re in this industry you soon realize your territory is really just about anywhere, as referrals can become a huge part of the business even if you are not directly selling a home or looking to buy one for a client.

That’s the summary of things from the functional standpoint of what it’s been like trying to start anew. The emotional part and mental part are an entirely different animal.

I certainly know I’m not alone in this. I know many others are much worse off. However what you feel is what you feel. I guess as I sit here and write this blog I would be untruthful if I didn’t say I’m frustrated, angry and a bit depressed. I feel like I’m working everyday, but for nothing. Somewhere along the way of my wiring, I feel if you don’t earn something financially for what you do, even if that financial gain is for a charity, then you are failing. I know it’s not entirely true, but it’s getting tougher everyday to dig down and find that slice of sunshine and positivity.

Honestly I do still believe that just being alive and having another day is a gift. I do understand that. It’s something I learned going through the last 10 years of loss. As long as you are here, or as my friend Rick says, “wake up on the right side of the dirt”, then you have a chance to make something happen. Hopefully something positive and of value to not only you, but to the world.

I don’t know if real estate is the answer. I do know not giving up is. It’s getting tougher to say that and believe it, but it is the only way. The other option is not so great. So while I’m keeping the door open to any and all possibilities, I still try more than ever to stop and take the time to enjoy a sunrise or sunset. A stroll in nature or along the beach. A moment just being still with your partner and hearing their breathing or heartbeat. Laughter…….even the ups and downs of being a Met fan. In the end, those things have more value than a paycheck. Of course I still wouldn’t mind having one again for a little while.

With that I say Sunshine Always! Please find links below to all of my doings and if you’re buying, selling or looking to rent something in the area, please reach out. I may not be the most experienced realtor, but I will be the most honest and I’m backed by folks with tremendous experience who also have found their success in being true and honest with their clients.

https://www.compass.com/agents/chris-cimino/

The post To Begin Again….. appeared first on Weathering Your 50s & Beyond.

In my last blog I dealt with the process of deciding to move out of a home I spent a significant part of my live inhabiting. This blog is the part II of that.

In order to move out of a home, there is a large part of the process I can best describe as purging. In particular when downsizing (which since I’ve begun a career in real estate is now known as right sizing), most things you cannot take with you. You may take a few precious items as I did. Perhaps get a storage unit. However, you cannot keep everything, no matter how hard your sentimental heart tugs at you.

After my first blog, someone I worked with at WNBC wrote me saying how his parents were down sizing. He mentioned his Dad was having a particularly hard time parting from the home in which he tended to the yard and landscaping for years. It’s a sense of purpose and pride for many of us guys. They then said something to him that resonated with me, and hopefully him as well. They told him, at least this decision is yours to make and you are not being forced to do it by circumstances. His wife and life partner is still with him. I realized with that statement, that I really didn’t have a choice. Sure, I could have lived alone in a four bedroom home and heard my voice echoing for the rest of my life. It wasn’t a matter of if I moved out of the house, but more a matter of when.

The time had come to make that decision and follow through with it. Financially I was taking a beating and to be perfectly honest with no job or income for 18 months, something had to give. Pretty bad timing to lose your job of 24 years and then have a pandemic hit a few months later. Once again, I say this not to complain or illicit any sympathy, as many had it much worse than I did. I’m just stating the facts of the situation and what drove me to finally pull the plug on the house.

So now I have to decide, what if any, furniture and large items I’m going to take from my home and attempt to squeeze into our apartment. Some decisions were quite easy. The living room & family room furniture as well as dining room furniture were all much too large and not the style of a city apartment. As for what was in my man-cave dwelling, in terms of furniture, that too could all stay at the house. I did however, have various sports memorabilia that was coming with me or going into storage.

What was interesting, was the strange things I would find, not remembering when or why I kept them. I found an Al Roker phone card from his WNBC days that must have been a type of promotional deal. Newspaper clippings from when I may have been quoted about a particular weather situation. So many thank you notes written from school children with their artwork in response to countless appearances I would make. In many cases those visits turned out to be one of the most rewarding parts of my job. With no place to store these notes, cards and letters, it really pained me to have to part with them.

Forget the seemingly endless collection of VCR tapes of shows from celebrity interviews I did. From Elton John to Grandpa Al Lewis and so many inbetween. One of my favorites was a 60’s memorabilia show I did for Weekend Today in NY. A few of the stars from the old 60s TV shows came by as well as Marty Balin from Jefferson Airplane/Starship. We ended the show sitting on this plastic orange and yellow furniture singing Aquarius – Let the Sun Shine, along with Kent McCord from Adam-12, Brandon Cruz from the Courtship of Eddie’s Father, Johnny Whitaker of Family Affair and Erin Murphy who played Tabitha on Bewitched. Talk about a surreal moment. It was a 60’s flashback, only without the drugs.

I could go on and on about my NBC experiences, but that’s not the purpose of why I’m writing this particular blog. While certainly many memories are intertwined with my home and my career at NBC the reason I’m writing this blog is a bit more personal. Parting with a home of that many years is like another mourning process. It’s another funeral. Or in some ways for me, it felt like a series of funerals, as each time you uncovered another sentimental part of the past you had to relive it, then let it go, and say goodbye. To say that it was emotionally exhausting would be a huge understatement.

As I went into more closets and storage spaces in the house, from the attic to the basement and garage and everywhere in between, I began to realize something else. My wife, was an “organized hoarder”. She always kept a clean house and generally orderly. However, she apparently had a difficult time parting with many things. Primarily paperwork & bills. I found a file filled with telephone bills from when we lived in Cincinnati Ohio back in 1993. Tax returns and bills of all kinds with receipts going back to 1984, the year we were married. Booklets introducing her to her first job at Chase Bank from 1983. Christmas cards and yearly Christmas photo cards from the 80’s thru 2015. Huge Rubbermaid containers, one after the other after the other stuffed with these useless files of past information. I counted up to 30 of them and then gave up. Can you say SHREDDER!!!!!!

Then I started running into the more sentimental things she kept. From the first artwork any of the kids had made, right down to a doodle on a napkin from my son, probably in his teens at the time. Outfits from the kids Halloween years to the first Tutu Carly wore at a dance recital. Then the notes exchanged between Carly and my wife, when they would engage in epic battles and fights. It became so difficult to not stop and read everything and relive it again. If I did, I would still be there today sifting through things.

I’ve kept quite a few of those notes and some cards that were especially meaningful. I found a note I gave my wife to open on our wedding morning that she kept. I found notes from friends of hers with endearment and a couple of a different sort. More about a falling out, but she still decided to keep those for some reason.

The tougher ones were the notes she wrote and left for us that clearly indicated she knew she was losing her battle for her life. She left a note with some children’s books for Jeremy to read to his kids for when he becomes a Dad. Notes to Carly and me, leaving little items attached to some.

It’s a funny thing for me. I can part with many material things, eventually. However, I have a very difficult time parting with things that have the handwriting of the person that is no longer here. It just feels so personal to me. It’s their creation, their thoughts on paper. Clothing and possessions have a connection, but they were only worn or possessed by that individual. Not created. If that person didn’t exist, then that handwritten note wouldn’t either. As silly as some of the notes were. Like reminding us to leave the door open on the washing machine to let it dry out and not get musty or moldy smelling while she was away in the hospital. The handwritten notes to me are the energy and essence of the person.

Let’s just say I have more reading to do. My mom has been generous enough to lend me some storage space at her place for the time being . Eventually I will have to do some sifting and thinning out of the material, but I’m trying to buy some time. It’s a process….a laborious one at that.

As I write this, I know I’m still trying to process everything. I have not completed that task for sure. I will get there, but I know it’s going to take time. The band-aid has been ripped off and now the unprotected healing phase begins.

I guess the piece of advice I would like to pass along to any of you who own a home for many years, is periodically purge. Purge….purge…purge. It will make your life easier in the end when you finally have to move, or for your kids when they have to clean out your home if and when that day should come. You need to build a lot of time for clearing out a home if you’re selling it. I would say a week for every year or two you’ve lived there. It’s physically and in my case, even more so, emotionally exhausting.

So it’s forward I go. The only direction I know that keeps me growing and gives my life value. I wish for the new owners of my house to make it their home full of joy, love and peace.

Finally here are a few of the things & pictures (which I will always keep), that made me pause while I was cleaning out the house.

Coming up next…… a blog about my new career path in real estate.

As always if you made it this far…..thank you so much for stopping by.

Sunshine Always!!!

The post Organized Hoarding appeared first on Weathering Your 50s & Beyond.

For the last nearly three years, I didn’t spend much time in the home. My son moved there with his wife while they had work done on their home. That was something that turned into a debacle, to put it mildly. Point about this, is that in that time, the home became less and less a home and more and more a house and eventually just an expense on an unemployed middle age guy.

To bring in some history about the house, we purchased it in 1998. I had been working at WNBC for a couple of years at that point and we now had two children, so we wanted to expand from a two bedroom townhouse to something bigger. The home was part of a new development, so it was exciting to have it built with all of our own personal choices.

As a city boy, I loved moving to the suburbs because of how much greener everything was. I would walk barefoot outside as much as I could and loved the feel of the grass under my feet. With my wife Nancy, we would plant vegetable & flower gardens. I preferred the vegetables, because I felt like you would actually reap what you sowed. Although that was a learning curve, as rabbits and deer often reaped before I did.

My son was nearly 9 and my daughter 4 years old when we moved into our home. It was one of the first to be built in the development. I remember looking through the various windows of the house and watching other homes sprout up all around us, seemingly from seeds in the ground. It was such a great time of newness and excitement to truly make something our own from scratch.

I can’t begin to tell you how much fun it was to invite old friends from Queens and Long Island to the house. Nancy and I were very proud of our house that I often referred to as “a townhouse on steroids”. As time went on we made other friends from the neighborhood as well as with parents from my son’s hockey team.

A few years later we put in a swimming pool which was my favorite place on a Saturday and Sunday morning, sipping coffee and reading the paper. Numerous BBQs and pool parties were enjoyed over the years and Nancy was a generous host to all.

A few years later my son became interested in the music industry and half of the basement of the home was converted to a recording studio. I spent many days holding my ears as he recorded various “scream-o” bands amongst many others. Some were occasionally palatable.

My daughter grew from pre-school to college in the time in that house and my son graduated college and eventually moved on out.

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention another very important member of making the house a home, Sir Charles, my first little boy dachshund. You can look back in previous blogs to get the details on that story.

In any event, I will not bore you with further details about the events that took place in the home, as time moved on and a family evolved together under the same roof. It’s a pretty common tale, albeit an important one.

Fast forward to May 2016 and the passing of my wife. Neither of my kids lived there anymore. I remember going back to the house after everything was done and put to rest. The eerie quiet. The emptiness. It may not have registered at the time but the home was beginning the process of becoming just a house again.

I hung in there for a couple of years splitting time between NYC and the house in NJ. It was not easy. Plus the fact that the show, Today in New York, was regularly going on at 4AM now meant I needed to be up by 1:15AM. Hence, during the week, I usually stayed at the house only a night or two at most.

When my son and his wife ran into a major problem with the home they purchased, I offered them my home while things were taken care of for them in their future place. Little did I know that would last for over two years. I primarily lived in the city at this time as my life was moving on from the past. The one thing that remained however, was the house in New Jersey. It was becoming a cloud hanging over my head. An albatross of sorts.

In going through the pandemic and another life altering period, I decided in February of this year it was time to pull the trigger on the house and sell it. I guess the good news was that everytime I went into the house I felt less and less connected to it. It stopped looking like and feeling like the home it was during the good times. It was time. The memories could never be taken away. Those moments for me and anyone else who shared the many gatherings in that home will never be forgotten. Nancy was certainly a large part of that.

So enough about the history. Now onto the experience of cleaning out 23 plus years of the lives of four individuals.

Well, that’s coming……in part 2 very soon.

As always if you made it this far thanks so much.

Sunshine Always!!!!

Latest episode of Chris & Edmi’s Kitchen click on link below.

The post When a Home Becomes A House(Part1) appeared first on Weathering Your 50s & Beyond.

The 93rd Academy Awards take place on April 25th this year and on Bleav in Middle Age Warriors we have a special guest to take us through it. TCM host and veteran reporter and writer of the TV entertainment industry, Dave Karger sits down with Chris & Rick on this latest episode of Middle Age Warriors. It’s a fun episode to hear about how Dave, a self described MTV child, found his way on this fun, but often unpredictable career path.

The post The Envelope Please……. appeared first on Weathering Your 50s & Beyond.

That being said, I have also been very fortunate in not losing any family or close friends to Covid. I did lose friends this year to non-covid related reasons. Too many and too young. Which I guess only raises my level of frustration to this past year. We never really know how much time we have left here, so while I have what remains, I would like to live it to its fullest.

I know there are those that will say it was a year to reset. To become more introspective. To silence ourselves for a bit and listen to and feel things we stopped noticing in our normal busy lives. Well, that was great for about 3-4 months. Then it got a little stale by month 6, and now a year later, IMO it’s nothing but frustrating, sad and depressing. We are social creatures by nature. We are suppose to socialize.

However, yes, we have a vaccine. It’s time for optimism. Of course being a healthy non-obese, non-smoking and less than 60 years old unemployed male, puts me pretty far in the back of the line. Honestly, I’m not in hurry. I’m not of the ilk of some that react to getting this vaccine with the sense of relief as if it’s going to keep them from getting sick or dying from something else. The anxiety and fear that has been driven into the mindset of many in this country may very well be irreversible.

What I mean by that, is in the case of those most anxious about getting the virus, upon getting the vaccine, doesn’t clear you from the rest of the demons lurking to take us all out, ie. cancer and heart disease just to name a couple. I’m sure for some, it’s a relief to hopefully take Covid off the list of possible causes for our death, but statistically we should be worrying about other things.

I’m not trying to poo-poo the vaccine. I’m not trying to downplay the ugliness of this pandemic. Many people suffered and too many died. The restrictions we decided to put upon ourselves as a society left many of those tragically dying alone. That is something that really saddened me and I believe in the future we will re-evaluate. Perhaps the precautions could have been handled differently.

I’m way passed tired of the politicizing of the pandemic and even more tired of seeing people’s inaccurate posts of blame, or misinformed spreading of restrictions, or lack thereof in some situations. I just hope we can recover. I don’t mean from the virus. That wish is a given. I hope the anxiety and fear hangovers don’t linger. I have my concerns about that.

The funny thing was, this blog was supposed to be about the two year anniversary of our trip to Finland and the Arctic Circle in the hopes of seeing the Northern Lights. It’s a bit of a story unto itself and I think I will reserve that blog for a later post. In the meantime I hope I didn’t offend anyone with my honest blowing off some steam in this blog. I wish I had answers. I wish tomorrows’ Facebook memory comes up and says, “remember that year you had that really unsettling dream about a pandemic shutting down the world?” Aren’t you glad it was just a dream? If only……..

Here’s the latest Middle Age Warriors podcast taking on the issues of travel as we slowly try and move forward from the pandemic……Peter Greenberg the Travel Detective answers a lot of questions you might have.

The post Thanks For the Memories…Time For Some New Ones appeared first on Weathering Your 50s & Beyond.

In my time at WNBC I had a few people who I met along the way that I had held in a particularly high level of respect and reverence. Our guest on the latest edition of Middle Age Warriors was one of them. I’m speaking of the one and only Len Berman.

I could go on here about Len stories and the unique first time we actually met and how he was an integral part in my first New York television debut, non-weather related.

However, I’ll let the podcast speak for itself. So here’s the link to hear the latest Bleav in Middle Age Warriors with Rick Sommers and myself as we sat down with Len Berman.

Enjoy. Sunshine Always.

The post Spanning With Len Berman appeared first on Weathering Your 50s & Beyond.

In general I’m not a fan of getting into political arguments or even discussions for that matter. They usually don’t end well, unless of course you are both coming from the same side. Just typing out that sentence and using the word side, shows where we are today.

Apparently, to have a voice today, in particular in the media, you must choose a side. Once you’ve proclaimed yourself left or right, liberal or conservative, then you must project only from that perspective.

Now I’m not going to lump local news stations into this, although I’m sure some have a slanted view more than others. I would guess this would be dictated by the TV market and the political and social behaviors of the larger part of that audience.

On the network side of traditional broadcast TV, CBS, NBC, ABC & FOX, I’m not sure I can say the same. While not obvious about it, in my opinion I can pretty much gauge the bias in some of these broadcasts whether conservative or liberal (terms I actually do not like, but make it clearer to the reader).

However, when we get to cable news networks, herein lies the problem that I see. They may as well just have flags and team logos and memberships. To be clear, I do not belong to a party. I’m very sickened by the disingenuousness of politicians and even more so by the cable news operations in this country.

Our former president’s term, “Fake News”, wasn’t maybe as off base as it sounded, except it was being used to describe news stories about him that he didn’t like. I’m sure some were fabricated a bit or slanted, but I’m sure others were true.

My point here however, isn’t really going to begin to tackle which network contorts the truth more or flat out misinforms. I feel after looking at people repost things from the plethora of cable news outlets, (FOX, MSNBC, CNN, Newsmax, One America News Network etc.) that they are often as guilty as anyone for inciting the growing division and anger in this country. They have various hosts who engage in making themselves more important than with what they are supposed to be informing viewers of…. ……true……factual…..information. After all, it’s a ratings game. That’s the nature of the beast.

The problem with the beast, is that it is also a very significant reason this country can’t find it’s way out of its current state of a bad social disease. The anger, the hate and vitriol that one can find in seconds on Twitter or Facebook within the comments of any political post, is disheartening to say the least.

So let me get to my point(I wish you would Chris). I do believe in free speech. It’s a very important part of the fabric that once made this country great. I don’t like many of the things put out in the media and especially social media, but I do think by censoring, you are opening up a very slippery slope to an even more dangerous place.

I don’t have to care what you think. I don’t have to read it, or watch it, or listen to it. The problem is, in the responsibility in each and every one of us. We have become lazy. We read something and we quickly accept it as fact, or less likely, fiction. We wait for others to tell us if it’s the truth or not. Would you let someone point a gun at your head and pull the trigger if they told you it wasn’t loaded? I don’t know about you but that’s a lot of trust. Maybe if I investigated and looked into each chamber and saw it was empty I would play along. The point being, too many of us continue to swallow the negative reporting from either side as truth.

I want to take this conversation to a different place. I don’t care what’s true or not, if it’s impact doesn’t take on a significantly dangerous level in society, the likes of which we saw at the Capitol. The bottom line is, none of these news outlets, nor those who host them( I call them hosts because they perform more like they are on a game show than a news show)give two you know whats about you or us. If they did, they would make more of a point of finding out why the other side doesn’t agree with them. Why are they unhappy? What do Republicans fear about Democrats and vice versa?

What do they do? They keep pointing fingers at each other. Mocking the leadership of both sides as if they are the enemy. We are supposed to all be on the same team. We don’t have to agree on everything, but respect the whole, before you throw your entire self into just a part or a faction of an ideology.

Every day, all I see on social media are people making claims that the other side has or is going to ruin the country. This is going nowhere fast and the cable news media does nothing but feed the public hunger for hate and division.

Let me make a very simple analogy. If a couple has been married for many years and always made it work….even with some differences of opinion(not exactly unheard of in marriage), but suddenly an issue comes up that seems to drive a wedge between them like never before. Usually they have enough respect for the marriage and each other and the years they invested to try to save it. The next step is usually a marriage counselor.

A marriage counselor is there to neutralize while each side gets to say its part. They try and create an environment in which both sides can speak freely to each other about what’s bothering and concerning them. The counselor tries to make both sides more empathetic. It’s not just about he did this to me or she doesn’t do this to me. Typically things happen because one side is not listening or not communicating in a productive and honest manner.

To me, the various cable news outlets should be acting as marriage counselors for the divided people of this country. They should be creating a place where you hear both sides in the same forum. Where maybe…….just maybe, someone listens instead of just shouting back what they believe to be true. Perhaps accepting and understanding compromise. Compromise???!!! What’s that? Must be something new. Sounds dangerous.

If I had to further the analogy, I would say most of these cable news shows act more like divorce attorneys(no offense to divorce attorneys). They just feed their client, or in this case political party of choice, with what they want to hear, not what might be good for the marriage, aka, the country.

Finally. If you want us to continue on the path to become the divided states then continue to sling anger and hate at people who don’t agree with you. That will certainly speed up the process. If you choose that, just please do me a favor and don’t refer to yourself as an American or someone that cares about the future of the United States. You need to turn in your membership card.

If on the other hand, you want to work on bringing pride back to this country, save the marriage so to speak. Then please stop the trash talk and posting things that only antagonize and try to hurt or demean, but don’t create productive discussion.

If you care about US or the USA, then I say to to the media outlets, it’s time to take responsibility for what you broadcast and make available to the public. If I turn to MSNBC I should not see the majority of people being interviewed having the same views and opinions(rare occasions guests from both sides do appear). The same goes for CNN & FOX News. I will not even bother to mention some of the other fringe networks masquerading as news channels when they are nothing more than propaganda channels feeding the lambs. Let’s have a network that removes most of the adjectives and adverbs when telling the story of the days political news. Maybe they are just no longer capable. Leave the deciding of the facts to the viewer.

It’s easy to take the path of least resistance and give your audience what they WANT to hear. It’s a lot harder to give them what they NEED to hear.

I would love to hear your thoughts on this. Please leave comments if you so desire, I will get to them all.

Sunshine Always.

The post How About the “Clear” Party? appeared first on Weathering Your 50s & Beyond.

Brian McDonough is a physician, writer, and media personality in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. He is the author of four books including Talking Health with Dr. Brian McDonough.

McDonough is a Clinical Professor of Family Medicine at Temple University School of Medicine and Chairman of the Family Medicine Department at St. Francis Healthcare, Wilmington, DE. McDonough is also known for his work in information technology. He served as Chief Medical Information Officer at Saint Francis Hospital from 2010-2020. He is now Trinity Health Mid-Atlantic Regional Director of Health Informatics. McDonough has received awards including: Family Physician of The Year, National Medical Broadcaster of The Year, The Sir William Osler Award for Bedside Teaching, and is an inductee in The Broadcast Pioneers Hall of Fame.^[1] He is a Fellow of The American Academy of Family Physicians, American association of Physician Leadership and The College of Physicians of Philadelphia. He has earned both The Health IT Leadership Certificate and the degree of Certified Physician Executive from The American College of Physician Executives.^[2] McDonough serves as Medical Editor at KYW Newsradio in Philadelphia (since 1988) and 1010 WINS in New York City (since 1996). Among his honors, he has won four Emmy Awards over a twenty-year span working with Fox Television. He also has appeared as a contributor to NBC‘s Today Show. McDonough is a dual citizen of both the United States and Ireland. He speaks nationally and internationally on topics in healthcare as well as healthcare informatics. (courtesy Wikipedia).

We had the chance to ask the tough questions we are all concerned about. From the safety of the vaccine to the assurance of getting the second shot. We wondered if one vaccine was doing better than another. Will the virus keep mutating? Will we need a shot every year? Will we ever see something close to pre-covid life anytime soon?

Dr. McDonough will answer all of these questions and more in his usual understandable and non-hyping and calming manner. Definitely worth a listen if your wondering about the vaccine in any shape or form.

Click on the link below to get to the podcast. While there, feel free to download any of our other 43 shows. Please leave a comment of any kind or question here after listening. Thanks as always for stopping by.

Sunshine Always!

The post Covid Vaccine Q & A With Dr. Brian McDonough appeared first on Weathering Your 50s & Beyond.

Let me start this blog by saying a few things upfront. I know many have suffered more and continue to suffer much more than I do. That pains me and saddens me. I know life is filled with surprises and changes, some welcome, some not so much. I full well know about resilience and perseverance. I also know these things take a lot out of ones soul each time they occur and you are expected to carry on.

The last 10 years of my life have been filled with many changes. Many losses. More so than the gains. That does not put a value system on any of them, good or bad.

A very quick synopsis that many of you may already know to chronologically put things in perspective. Over 10 years ago my Dad was diagnosed with mesothelioma. Basically an incurable lung cancer. For the next 14 months I watched my Dad whither and weaken both physically and emotionally. I would go to see him and my mom regularly at their home and usually sit and watch Jeopardy as my Mom answered many of the questions correctly. He would both marvel at this and also look at me and say “your mother’s a smart ass.” I smiled just typing out that line.

As he became weaker and the realization finally hit him that he might not be able to beat this, I remember some uncomfortable moments with him. Sometimes we would be watching a Met game or a Jet game together and my Mom would leave the room. There would be a silence and then he would say, ” you know I’m dying, can you believe I’m dying?” At first I locked up. Then I remember saying to him, ” Dad, we’re all dying. Every second that ticks by I’m closer to dying too.” It was all I had, I thought I was thinking fast on my feet in such an awkward situation. I guess what he meant was, he really wasn’t ready for it, nor wanted it yet. Some people reach that point. He was not there. My Dad always thought he could ultimately control things if you put enough of yourself into it.

One of his famous quotes to all of us if we said we couldn’t do something was……”there’s no such thing as can’t.” I guess, for him, not being able to defy this illness was something he couldn’t control and he couldn’t quite get his head around it to accept it.

From my perspective as the son, I knew the day would come. Parents are supposed to pass before their children in the natural order of things. However, I’m sure most of us would agree, it is still painful and traumatic when it ultimately happens.

That being said, I knew I had to move on. Dads pass away. It’s a reminder of your own mortality just in case you were thinking this goes on forever.

Now on top of that, several months into my Dads illness, my son was diagnosed with salivary gland cancer. I never had heard of it before, nor expected a 20 year old who never smoked a day in his life to be diagnosed with it. We kept it from my Dad and my son had a very significant operation, but fortunately escaped chemo or radiation. He was able to recover in time and graduate from college and my Dad was able to watch it remotely online at home.

During my son’s illness, for some strange reason, I never felt it was going to turn out bad. Maybe I was numb dealing with my Dad. I was shocked at myself for the calm I had in dealing with the fact that one of our babies had cancer. Again, I was able to move on and function just fine.

The next thing that was lurking in the wings was inevitably the toughest and most devastating.

Five months after my Dad passed away, between Christmas and New Years, we heard back from the doctor after my wife’s bloodwork that something didn’t look right. They recommended we see an oncologist. I remember the phone call. We were standing outside of a diner on Route 18 in NJ. The doctor returning the call with the news. Our hearts sank. When was this going to stop. My Dad, my son and now my wife and best friend. This had to be a bad joke. Catholic guilt swirled in my head. I had a life too good. I needed to know what it was like to suffer. I think my wife believed that more than I would allow myself to believe.

Shortening the story, as I prefer to not get into the details at this point, the next five years may as well been scripted in hell. The illness progressed and tore this poor woman apart slowly and steadily. I became lost and I became angry. Two things in which I was not terribly experienced in. I put it eventually in the hands of destiny. I suffered frustration, sadness and guilt to a degree I hope would happen to no one, but I know it does.

While again, I thought I could do something to fix the situation, something to make it better, I realized it was out of my hands. After numerous doctors, prolonged hospital stays and an unsuccessful bone marrow transplant, my wife lost her tortuous and brave battle to her illness.

After living through that experience, it was a therapeutic process of self healing that was quite involved and too much to get into here that helped me move forward. At least again I felt I was a bit more in control of my future and the direction my life was going. It was with a heavy heart, but I knew this was the best path for me to follow. Through travel and friends and the good fortune of meeting a wonderful woman, my life was once again bringing me some joy.

However, that didn’t last too long. In April of 2019, less than three years after my wife passing, I was told I was not being renewed at my job at WNBC-TV. After nearly 24 years I was out the door. Here we go again. Something else happening out of my control to a significant part of my life. My immediate thought was…..I’ve got this. After everything else I’ve been through I can bounce back from this. I was convinced it happened for a reason for me to change direction like all the other parts of my life.

I took time to think about some of the things I wanted to do outside of tv weather as the door was not exactly being knocked down with other suitors. To be honest, there were more women making themselves available once they knew I was single than any job offers. To be honest again, that would mean only one.

I took an online course or two, studied up on podcasts and designing websites. I began a blog (which you’re reading now) and still did some traveling and was coming up with various show ideas.

Then the latest thing came along that I had no control over. Five months after my last paycheck, the pandemic hit. The city shutdown. The world shutdown. My life shutdown. We all shutdown.

People who have kept their jobs through this pandemic are clueless to the strain of either trying to find work during this time or for those that have lost their jobs and are desperately clinging to supporting their families. Once again I want to clearly state my situation is by far not as tough and scary as it is for many others who are in far worse than mine. The frustration level however is similar.

So once again, I’m thrown into a situation that I have no control over. I can’t change the pandemic, fix it, make it go away. I have tried for the last 11 months to put a positive perspective on it, and many times I successfully accomplished this. However, lately I’m feeling very tired. Very frustrated. Very angry.

I know it’s not healthy, but it’s getting to a point where just remembering my former life is difficult. I really feel my life right now is nothing more than a shadow of my past life. I am just a shadow of the career I had. A shadow of a husband, a shadow of a son to a degree,(thankfully I still have my Mom) even a shadow of a Dad as my kids are adults now.

So as I sit here at my laptop finishing up this blog, I feel a bit empty. I know someday I will change those shadows into new parts of the real me. What that is, I’m still not sure. The world under the influence of the pandemic is not a great place, but I don’t see that changing dramatically any time soon.

In closing, I again find myself pushed down by something I can’t control. We all can only mange to look for the positive and prepare for the return of some normalcy to life again. At least I have a fair amount of experience on my resume. Hey, maybe that’s my new real me definition, Survivor! Just like all of you reading this. Thanks for listening. I hope it makes many of you realize you are NOT alone in what you feel. Stay strong. Stay safe. Stay well.

Sunshine Always!!!!

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