Greetings All:
I was about to write, "It's hard to believe that 1/3 of the year is done and it's May..." Then again, is it really hard to believe? Granted, for those of us in the Midwest, we had an extremely easy winter, so that could be part of it. However, as a law professor said about (gulp) 20 years ago, "Time is neutral." What I believe she meant and the way I took it was that time move forward. A minute is 60 seconds, a week 7 days, and so on. Time is what we attest to it. Of course, in some situations, time can drag. Waiting for a flight, results on a test and so on. Then again, I recall that Dr. Victor Frankl (sp?) writing how even in the Hell of the death/concentration camps, "...the weeks flew by..." or words to that effect. (As an aside, this book is a painfully hard and equally important book to read or listen to, here's the link. I am not saying go buy it, your local library should have a copy. This link is for info purposes and to give a proper cite to my source:)
http://www.amazon.com/Mans-Search-Meaning-Viktor-Frankl/dp/080701429X
Back to the post and the year being a third over. Whether or not four months of 2012 are over seems possible, it is. Things like New Year's Resolutions have long since passed from the news and the gyms that were crowded even in February are now back to the pre-resolution level. Have the diets gone by the wayside? Are the plans to bring lunch and save money replaced by trips to the drive-thru lane just like before? BTW, I am not offering a critique of anyone or any one resolution, simply offering a point that the new year is a time to think about goals, changes and after that...
As we observe (not really a time to celebrate the start of May, unless you're in Buffalo, New York and the ice is finally starting to melt) this time of year, I wonder if this is a good time to re-visit the goals that were set in January. Why didn't they stick? Speaking for myself, I wonder if the reason I have not made any major changes is that I am wildly fortunate to have a great life and want for nothing. (Well, getting the Camaro running is a clear want, not a need but I digress...) Still, I am going to take a bit of time and see what is going on and if there are things I want to do, really want to do. After all, nothing of value comes free, it must be earned.
This may or may not be a good transition, but I gotta get to work, and I wanted to mention this--the inventory. A valued mentor of mine recently challenged us to take an inventory of what is in our "bucket." This is a metaphor for those things of value we carry with us (think George Clooney's backpack from Up in the Air). This will likely include family, friends, experiences, accomplishments, disappointments, et al. I'll wrap up with this question: where do goals fit into this bucket?
Have a great day and Happy Law Day belated a day.
Best rgs,
Jeno
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Days of Remembrance
Greetings All:
Yesterday, I had the profound privilege to hear Mrs. Anges M. Schwartz speak at the Rock Island Arsenal Days of Remembrance Observation. She is a Holocaust Survivor. Although she was not deported to a death or concentration camp, her mother was. Her father escaped his own deportation thanks to the actions of Raoul Wallenberg, a Swedish diplomat (and a personal hero of mine).
She told a riveting tale of how her idyll childhood world in Budapest, Hungary, was ripped from her when she was only 11. In 1944, the Nazis, led by Albert Eichmann (later hanged in Israel in May, 1962) began their reign of terror and systematic deportation to the death house that was Auschwitz. She recalled with chilling detail of the sounds of Nazis marching, coming to collect her fellow Jews,...including her mother. She survived because her maid, a Catholic, took her in and hid her as her niece. Because Mr. Schwartz had attended a Catholic school (Hungary is an over-whelming Catholic country and private education was common) she knew enough about the New Testament to avoid inquiry from neighbors, some of whom were enthusiastic supporters of Hitler. She survived the bombings, the Nazi (and their Arrow Cross henchmen) spontaneous killings, and even found her father after the war. When finally reunited with her father, she heard those magical words, "We're going to America!"
However, this was not to be a "and they lived happily-ever after." After settling in Chicago, her father inexplictedly returned to Hungary. Then, he did the unthinkable: he re-married and his relationship with his daughter, the one he almost lost, was thrown away.
Mrs. Schwartz tells this part of the story without overt bitterness. She stoicly stated how her father was "never the same." Undoubtedly, he had post-traumatic stress. How could he not? Or her, for that matter.
As she told her story of her first husband leaving her and being a single parent, I saw in this eldery woman a strength few have. She did not say this, of course, but her presence conveyed this message: "I survived the war, I can survive as a single mother." She later did meet another man, Mr. Schwartz, and until his death, they had a good life. If anyone deserved such a life, it is her.
Now retired, her work is with the Illinois Holocaust Museum, her "second home." She speaks on a subject she ignored (and who could blame her) for years. Now, her voice is being heard. It is a difficult story. I had to work to maintain my composure several times yesterday. Her decision to speak, to find her voice (that is becoming a trite phase but appropriate here) is all the more important as the number of survivors is estimated at anywhere between 200,000 and 300,000, with that number falling everyday. As the deniers and the Hilter apologists are eagerly awaiting the day there are no more living survivors, the tale of Anges Schwartz needs to reach as many people (especially young people) as possible.
In telling her tale, he elected to cross back over a bridge in her memory that had to cause unimaginable pain. Yet in doing so, by choosing the courage to speak, we have another testament to a dark time in history. We need to remember. By remembering, by honoring, by pledging "NEVER AGAIN!" we build our own bridge to a better world. A world free of (we hope) from terrified 11-year old girls, hearing the pounding of boots on the pavement.
Best rgs,
Jeno
SOURCES:
http://www.amazon.com/Roll-Dice-Memoir-Hungarian-Survivor/dp/1462637264
http://www.ilholocaustmuseum.org/pages/witness_archive/145.php?id=11
http://www.amazon.com/Roll-Dice-Memoir-Hungarian-Survivor/dp/1462637264
Yesterday, I had the profound privilege to hear Mrs. Anges M. Schwartz speak at the Rock Island Arsenal Days of Remembrance Observation. She is a Holocaust Survivor. Although she was not deported to a death or concentration camp, her mother was. Her father escaped his own deportation thanks to the actions of Raoul Wallenberg, a Swedish diplomat (and a personal hero of mine).
She told a riveting tale of how her idyll childhood world in Budapest, Hungary, was ripped from her when she was only 11. In 1944, the Nazis, led by Albert Eichmann (later hanged in Israel in May, 1962) began their reign of terror and systematic deportation to the death house that was Auschwitz. She recalled with chilling detail of the sounds of Nazis marching, coming to collect her fellow Jews,...including her mother. She survived because her maid, a Catholic, took her in and hid her as her niece. Because Mr. Schwartz had attended a Catholic school (Hungary is an over-whelming Catholic country and private education was common) she knew enough about the New Testament to avoid inquiry from neighbors, some of whom were enthusiastic supporters of Hitler. She survived the bombings, the Nazi (and their Arrow Cross henchmen) spontaneous killings, and even found her father after the war. When finally reunited with her father, she heard those magical words, "We're going to America!"
However, this was not to be a "and they lived happily-ever after." After settling in Chicago, her father inexplictedly returned to Hungary. Then, he did the unthinkable: he re-married and his relationship with his daughter, the one he almost lost, was thrown away.
Mrs. Schwartz tells this part of the story without overt bitterness. She stoicly stated how her father was "never the same." Undoubtedly, he had post-traumatic stress. How could he not? Or her, for that matter.
As she told her story of her first husband leaving her and being a single parent, I saw in this eldery woman a strength few have. She did not say this, of course, but her presence conveyed this message: "I survived the war, I can survive as a single mother." She later did meet another man, Mr. Schwartz, and until his death, they had a good life. If anyone deserved such a life, it is her.
Now retired, her work is with the Illinois Holocaust Museum, her "second home." She speaks on a subject she ignored (and who could blame her) for years. Now, her voice is being heard. It is a difficult story. I had to work to maintain my composure several times yesterday. Her decision to speak, to find her voice (that is becoming a trite phase but appropriate here) is all the more important as the number of survivors is estimated at anywhere between 200,000 and 300,000, with that number falling everyday. As the deniers and the Hilter apologists are eagerly awaiting the day there are no more living survivors, the tale of Anges Schwartz needs to reach as many people (especially young people) as possible.
In telling her tale, he elected to cross back over a bridge in her memory that had to cause unimaginable pain. Yet in doing so, by choosing the courage to speak, we have another testament to a dark time in history. We need to remember. By remembering, by honoring, by pledging "NEVER AGAIN!" we build our own bridge to a better world. A world free of (we hope) from terrified 11-year old girls, hearing the pounding of boots on the pavement.
Best rgs,
Jeno
SOURCES:
http://www.amazon.com/Roll-Dice-Memoir-Hungarian-Survivor/dp/1462637264
http://www.ilholocaustmuseum.org/pages/witness_archive/145.php?id=11
http://www.amazon.com/Roll-Dice-Memoir-Hungarian-Survivor/dp/1462637264
Saturday, April 21, 2012
Crossing Bridges
Greetings All:
As I mentioned in my first post, the title for this blog, Cedo Pontis, is a rough translation of the Latin "to go to," and the word, "bridge." So, I thought I would talk about crossing bridges. With apologies issued in advance for using a way-old metaphor, I did title this post Crossing Bridges. However, I will make an attempt to add some original thought to this idea.
I cross a bridge at least twice a day during the week, actually, four bridges, counting the overpass, to get to my work. (More about that later.) I am not alone, millions, probably billions of people do the same thing. Then there are the other "things" in our life we bridge. They are the connections between our family, our friends (Facebook is the expansion bridge to the online world) and to the parts of our self, past and present. Many of these we do self-consciously and quite frankly, we should. It's called life. If we think and ponder about everything we do and the "deeper" meaning of it, we'd never get anything done. I can speak only for myself, but it's a constant battle to simply keep laundry washed and (dare I say it) folded and put away.
Yet I do think that it is time well spent to, on occasion, ponder where we are, how we got there, and where we would like to go. As we think about what is next, planning is always a good idea. In doing so, we can see what bridges we need to cross, and who knows, what bridges we may build.
<BREAK>
Today is Pat's Run in Tempe, AZ.http://www.pattillmanfoundation.org/pats-run/
The link above gives some background on this race and the cause it supports. Pat Tillman was a pro football player who walked away from millions of dollars to enlist in the Army. He was killed in Afghanistan under circumstances that may never be 100% clear. What is clear is that Pat was someone who LOVED life as his friends and family attest to without exception. (I never met him, for which I regret but I have had the privilege to meet many people close to him and am honored to have them as valued friends.) What is great about PTF is the work it does to help others make a difference. Today, 28k will take to the streets of Tempe to run, walk and honor Pat. They will also be raising money and joining together to both celebrate Pat's life and take positive action for others. For some, the 4.2 mile run will be the longest (and last :)) of their life. That's fine. In doing so, they are crossing a number of bridges, those made by others and those created in their mind.
Have a great day, be well my friends!
Jeno
As I mentioned in my first post, the title for this blog, Cedo Pontis, is a rough translation of the Latin "to go to," and the word, "bridge." So, I thought I would talk about crossing bridges. With apologies issued in advance for using a way-old metaphor, I did title this post Crossing Bridges. However, I will make an attempt to add some original thought to this idea.
I cross a bridge at least twice a day during the week, actually, four bridges, counting the overpass, to get to my work. (More about that later.) I am not alone, millions, probably billions of people do the same thing. Then there are the other "things" in our life we bridge. They are the connections between our family, our friends (Facebook is the expansion bridge to the online world) and to the parts of our self, past and present. Many of these we do self-consciously and quite frankly, we should. It's called life. If we think and ponder about everything we do and the "deeper" meaning of it, we'd never get anything done. I can speak only for myself, but it's a constant battle to simply keep laundry washed and (dare I say it) folded and put away.
Yet I do think that it is time well spent to, on occasion, ponder where we are, how we got there, and where we would like to go. As we think about what is next, planning is always a good idea. In doing so, we can see what bridges we need to cross, and who knows, what bridges we may build.
<BREAK>
Today is Pat's Run in Tempe, AZ.http://www.pattillmanfoundation.org/pats-run/
The link above gives some background on this race and the cause it supports. Pat Tillman was a pro football player who walked away from millions of dollars to enlist in the Army. He was killed in Afghanistan under circumstances that may never be 100% clear. What is clear is that Pat was someone who LOVED life as his friends and family attest to without exception. (I never met him, for which I regret but I have had the privilege to meet many people close to him and am honored to have them as valued friends.) What is great about PTF is the work it does to help others make a difference. Today, 28k will take to the streets of Tempe to run, walk and honor Pat. They will also be raising money and joining together to both celebrate Pat's life and take positive action for others. For some, the 4.2 mile run will be the longest (and last :)) of their life. That's fine. In doing so, they are crossing a number of bridges, those made by others and those created in their mind.
Have a great day, be well my friends!
Jeno
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Welcome to Cedo Pontis
Greetings All:
Welcome to the first post of my blog, Cedo Pontis. I struggled with what to call this blog and deferred to that "end of all arguments," Google. I did a Latin search for bridge and came up with pontis. I then needed another word and while putzing around came across another word, Cedo. Cedo means (roughly) to go or proceed. Therefore, Cedo Pontis means (at least to me) to go to a bridge and cross it.
Of course, this is awfully ripe with metaphors. What's a "bridge?" What is being crossed? Why cross it? Hopefully, I will be able to come up with a few things that will cause interest and ideally, spark some discussion.
I also hope to have some fun with this blog. Life is too short to be too serious. I will endeavor to display a bit of wit while never intentionally causing ill feelings. Of course, I fully intend to poke fun at myself and for those of you who know me, feel free to join in.
For those of you who elect to read this blog, thank you. With that, it begins. I'm walking across my bridge into the blogosphere.
Best rgs,
Jeno
By the way, my source for the Latin came from this site:
http://www.latinwordlist.com/latin-words/cedo-3321554.htm
Welcome to the first post of my blog, Cedo Pontis. I struggled with what to call this blog and deferred to that "end of all arguments," Google. I did a Latin search for bridge and came up with pontis. I then needed another word and while putzing around came across another word, Cedo. Cedo means (roughly) to go or proceed. Therefore, Cedo Pontis means (at least to me) to go to a bridge and cross it.
Of course, this is awfully ripe with metaphors. What's a "bridge?" What is being crossed? Why cross it? Hopefully, I will be able to come up with a few things that will cause interest and ideally, spark some discussion.
I also hope to have some fun with this blog. Life is too short to be too serious. I will endeavor to display a bit of wit while never intentionally causing ill feelings. Of course, I fully intend to poke fun at myself and for those of you who know me, feel free to join in.
For those of you who elect to read this blog, thank you. With that, it begins. I'm walking across my bridge into the blogosphere.
Best rgs,
Jeno
By the way, my source for the Latin came from this site:
http://www.latinwordlist.com/latin-words/cedo-3321554.htm
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