The Most Beautiful Moment of Your Life

Stop and think for a moment about the most beautiful moment of your life.

As those reading this might now, I found out about my full brother about a year ago.

Yesterday, I caught up with a friend and neighbor from high school.

I sent her the link (above) about my brother. And then I sent her the note pasted below.

My point is that I think the most beautiful thing I have ever seen is when my parents met my brother for the first time.

Here is the note:

The lost brother thing was both difficult and beautiful for my parents. While the blog was meant for updates on that story, the evolution of their relationship with the long-lost brother became so personal to my parents that I realized my blog was not giving their personal, secretive, and angst relationship to the story due respect, so I stopped my hyperactive, global, unfiltered updates.

The short of it, however, is that my brother quickly became the “missing piece” my parents longed for. Yesterday, as you know, was fathers’ day.

My brother Mike has my father’s love of sports, beer, and logic. They look a lot alike, they tell stories the same way. Mike is the athletic son my father always wanted and I never was.

Yesterday, my father, for the first time in his life, got three calls on fathers’ day. One of them lasted an hour long and largely was spent talking sports. This has made him so happy that he has a very obvious newfound sense of purpose in life.

The take-away for me (among others) is appreciating the pain they carried for so many years. My brother Mike has become part of the family with ease – there is no family get-together (Thanksgiving, Christmas, etc.) for which he is not a full participant.

The last living member of the family that raised MIke died this year. He thought he was alone, forever. He spent holidays largely alone. And he is simply over-joyed to discover he has two full siblings and loving parents – all of whom he not only gets along with, but feels as though he belongs with.

I don’t want to drag on too long, but I will tell you this: I picked up my brother from the airport and introduced him to my parents. In all my years with my parents I never so them so happy. They both hugged him – and then they hugged him again and again. Imagine spending a lifetime thinking you will never see your child, and then God gives you that miracle. I saw sides of my parents then I never saw.

My father was holding back tears telling Mike that there wasn’t a week that went by in his life that he didn’t wonder where his son was. Mom and dad are so happy now. There are times when the “whole” family has a reunion and if you could see them it would make you cry.

They spent a lifetime feeling an important part of their family was missing, and they never thought they would have a reunion. I just want to make sure the last years of their lives are spent giving them the sense of completion they thought they would never know,.


Wild Story My Father Told Me Today

This is one of the most fascinating true stories I have ever heard, and it happened a few weeks ago. 

My parents live in Naples, Florida, in one of those retirement communities on a golf course. They live in a “community” in the sense that there are clubs for everything: golf, bridge, wine, reading, etc.

So here is my father’s story about a man in one of the clubs – my father swears this is true and just happened.

So the man, who is about 85, was at an event in Naples and he saw an old woman there.

He walked up to her and said, “excuse me, but do you recognize me?”

She looked him up and down and said she did not.

He rolled up his sleeves and showed her a number that was branded on his arm. The number was there because he was in a concentration camp in WWII.

She also had a number on her arm – and their numbers were one apart. They had sequential numbers because when they arrived at the concentration camp, they were married.  They were separated in the camp and afterwards could not find each other and assumed the other dead.

I guess this happened just a few weeks ago and so my father was unable to answer my subsequent questions, which included: “So, what happened next? Were either of them married?  Are they going to try to pick up where they left off?”

I know this sounds like an urban legend, but my father swears this happened. It’s the kind of event that is so hard to believe that if you put it in a movie, people would say, “that would never happen”.

But it did.  

Dream Life


Ok, some day I will get married.

Perhaps have kids.

I don’t know, stop asking me questions.

But I imagine this life will take place in a quaint apartment like the one above.

Hundreds of years old, modest, balcony. Echoing vistas. I pluck nylon string guitars in a Baroque / Cuban style.

Our sex life only gets better and better.

We all have a fantasy that is so hard to wake up from.

marriage & war: what are they good for?

I am in NYC staying with my good friend Dave.

Dave is a divorce attorney, and he’s very accomplished.

He represents an elite clientele, and his stories are fascinating.

Being an ethical lawyer (oxymoron?), he tells me stories without revealing names or divulging information that would be a breach of confidence.

He tells the stories in a round about way. He gives you the gist, the theme, the take away.

Dave doesn’t think his job is particularly interesting, which is peculiar to me because I am enthralled by his stories.

The characters are wealthy beyond belief. They are on top of the world, living a dream, and then all hell breaks loose.

Daytime soap operas aspire to have the drama that Dave must regularly extinguish.

Someone has an affair, is indicted on tax fraud, or the financial stakes are raised so high that families create wars amongst themselves.

An oil tycoon uncle dies and his vague will creates a feeding frenzy.

But the message I keep hearing is that the sacred marriage you thought you had is not quite so sacred when a lot of money or your legacy is on the line.

Ultimately, what I love about Dave’s stories are his conclusions.

You wouldn’t think a divorce attorney would be a champion of honesty, but Dave concludes his tales by noting where the characters departed from their personal honor.

Dave knows that his job begins when a wheel flies off someone’s moral axis, and he’d rather be in the business of tightening up the screws than picking up shrapnel.