I am at the nexus of an indefinite past and indeterminate future. My history will forever remain clouded, built of conjecture, legend, and images. The future is shrouded in hope, desire, and uncertainty. It is my sense of belonging, and relatedness that joins the two and forms a unity of design and purpose.

As you most certainly know by now, my mother is German. She is a product of having grown up during the time of the Third Reich. My father, on the other hand, has always thought of himself, or so he says, as one of those conquering heroes who had the great good fortune of meeting the love of his life in the rubble that was post World War II Germany. It has always be a curiosity to me that such a time and place could produce the circumstances and love of which I, my sister, and my children are all products. Everyday, when I am home, I look at the…

As I look at photos of my great grandparents, grandparents and parents, I see the faces of my past. Each looks at me across the span of time without movement or animation, yet each coveys a strong message of simultaneously being connected and disconnected in time, space, and place. I am certain that we each assume that same position for our successors, and are especially so for our children and grandchildren. This notion of being simultaneously connected and disconnected arose as I began restoring a number of old family photos. The photos had been, in each instance, ravaged by “time”. In some instances “time” was represented by conquering Russian soldiers…

As we were traversing the nightmare that was my 50-51st year, we had many opportunities for introspection and thought.  There were times when we were angry.  Times when we were fearful.  Times of doubt. And even, times of joy. I would be less than truthful if I said that we were not forced to re-examine ourselves, our lives, our values,and our faith.  That is not, however, where it stopped.  I had always been comfortable with my faith,  what was more interesting was that I not as certain how I fit in my family and world. I have a history of absence from my family.  My work, has for the last…

September of my 50th year is when my life began to change.  During a period of 12 short months, my quiet, complacent world would be shaken to its roots. Business was going reasonably well, our son was ensconced in his masters degree program and our daughter was a senior in high school. I was on yet another business trip, this one to LA.  I had flown out on 9/11/2002 (yes, one year after) when the first episode of my many recent encounters with life struck.  My father had broken his hip.  I suppose that this ought not have come as a total surprise, but as with most unwanted events, it…