FEATURING

Creative Play in Nature (5/11-5/18)

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Written by George L. Nitti George L. Nitti

Category: Week in Review Week in Review

Last weekend I trampsed around the estate of the Seligmann Homestead as part of an event called Family Nature Play led by instructor Daniel Mack and then spent the better part of the class time looking at creativity while sharing some of what I found with a small group of intrepid souls, including a couple of children.

The idyllic Homestead, located in Sugar Loaf, NY was once the estate of the famed artist Kurt Seligmann, and is now a center for Surrealism, a host of cultural activities, the Orange County Citizen’s Foundation and the Orange County Arts Council. 55 acres set amidst mountains and farmland, just outside the quaint village, the Homestead presents a universe of its own - surrounded by wetlands, wooded areas, bogs and trails, a small oasis for nature lovers.

I started my jaunt visiting Kurt Seligmann’s gravestone. Born 1900. Died 1962, just a year before I was born. Soon my eyes were diverted by several turkey vultures that were perched on a tree just nearby. Behind the graveyard is a path that takes you down to a bog. And there are a few surprises along the way, like a stack of books piled 30 feet or so high. A little eerie – some fog and darkness would make it the perfect backdrop for a Halloween thriller.

In this ecological setting, there is plenty more to see, that is if you are in the frame of mind to look, be and venture out, to experience the smallest things in nature - a blade of grass or the glint of a shiny rock on a trickling stream or the infinite variety of life that passes before your very eyes. Such is the poetry of life. If I could bring something back it might be a poem about a transcendental moment.

Before we were set free to roam, Mack didn’t give too much advice except to say “I’m not taking you on a hike. This event is not about doing anything particular.  Bring something back and share it with us. You have 30 minutes to explore the grounds.” Mack is known for his work with natural materials as an artist and furniture maker and encouraged us to find objects in nature to bring back and play with – to use as the basis for creating something.

After returning from my 30 minute voyage, we shared our discoveries. Mack by this time was whittling on a piece of sculpture he had been working on earlier. The kids showed us what they brought back – some sticks and other debris from the woods. I didn’t bother picking anything up – I figured the pictures  I was taking were my contribution. Mack soon helped the kids place and mash daisies on paper. I took a picture of two open doorways and suggested our morning was like an opening between two doors with infinite possibilities.

Thoughtful conversations evolved out of our excursion, like a philosophy on teaching. It was a Saturday morning and we were experiencing being, watching things change before our very eyes, shifting perspectives and views.  There was nothing big or momentous about any of this. It’s the small things in which we find the sublime.

There were some books on a table that Mack brought in. Then some wood blocks. We moved them around in several positions alongside the sticks. Creation allows for shifting and rebalancing, relayering and reconfiguring, to the point where nothing is definitively set, until over time there is greater shape and form and it all comes together.

Move things around and see what you can make. Let nature be an inspiration and your inner voice a director.

Letter 6: Never be seduced by dreams of distant success; each day is meant to be lived fruitfully.

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Written by George L. Nitti George L. Nitti

Category: Letters from My Father: Lessons I've Learned Letters from My Father: Lessons I've Learned

As several months passed in Staten Island, I was working steadily as a waiter at a Café at Bergdorf Goodman in NYC, studying acting at the William Esper Studio, auditioning for anything I could find in the actor’s trade publication called Backstage, and trying unsuccessfully to get an agent. And I was doing all of those other creative things that I mentioned.  

Yet, I was dissatisfied, seeking and searching for greater success, not content with the rung of the ladder I was on while forever questioning my path.

A journal entry from the period expresses both my desire for success as well as my confusion about what I wanted to do with my life. “There is so much I want to be that there is almost nothing where I can say I am.”

My father picked up on my feelings of unease and helped me address the issues through his philosophical insight. He had a habit of saying the future is now. I think this letter encapsulates some of my father's feelings about success and the future.

We strive, even rush it seems to be successful. It occurs to me so much of this effort is wasted because we don’t take advantage of the opportunities that are everywhere and that occur every day. What is this nonsense I’m saying?

Let me try to explain. One man wants to say become a writer, another an artist and a third a musician. Each longs to achieve success. Let us say the artist and the musician are like you. They practice the instrument or paint every day, take classes and work a few hours a day to sustain themselves. Both are frustrated because their work is not recognized after some years of hard effort. They imagine success as a place or day down the road when finally their diligence and development of their art comes to fruition. In the meantime each day they ponder, doubt, sweat and worry if they have any talent at all, if their whole commitment has been nothing more than a gamble, a bet that destiny may guarantee that they will lose. Their minds constantly wander from what they pursue each moment to that date down the road with destiny. Their life is chronic anguish and distraction.

The writer has decided never to try and even peek into the future and isn’t even imagining that he is on any road at all. Success to him is too far away to even ponder. He prefers to live each day going about his work, going to classes, reading some books and developing the myriad of possibilities that happen every day, those interactions between the rest of the world and him, an interplay of his life touching upon those commonplace encounters the sum total of which in the course of a lifetime will be vast and in the end make his life relevant.

The writer, like the artist, the musician and the actor lives in a neighborhood. The writer makes time for everyone. He takes the time to listen to the clerk at the food store and has gotten to know about his life, his family, his problems, good fortune, illness, his habits etc. He does this with his friends, the gas station attendant, his landlord, the blacks next door. He doesn’t worry about success for the very longing for it is a downer for him so he blanks it out of his mind. So many good things are out there for his healthy body and mind.

I’m curious why my father placed as much emphasis on the writer than he did on the musician or actor? Perhaps he was coming from his own self definition. Or perhaps he saw something in me that I had not yet seen in myself: the potential to become a writer.

That letter did not do much for me at the time, in terms of impact, besides present an interesting perspective. Of course it may have grounded me, but I’m not sure how far it went in really changing my state of being. If change was to take place, it would be gradual and much more imperceptible.

My first and foremost goal was to become an actor. And that was exactly his point. My pre-occupation with becoming rather than being. Of becoming a broken-record rather than a jubilant being playing creatively on this planet, like kids do on a playground without care for the bell that will mark the end of their playtime. Do you think they are constantly measuring results?

In that same letter my father restated his feelings.

Are not most of us overly pre-occupied with making a success of ourselves? Is not the pre-occupation itself a constant distraction? Does the rush to success cause us to overlook the day by day happenings entering our lives to go unnoticed? I’m not advocating giving up classes, reading, practicing. But each day was also meant to be lived fruitfully. If we constantly live in a state of dreaming of our success, of second guessing our commitment, of constantly worrying whether we have the talent or if we will ever get an opportunity, we shall be consumed by those fears.

One’s destiny is determined not only by fate but by what a person does each moment of each day of his life that builds him into a whole human being, a person with confidence in himself who doesn’t need to constantly, or ever, look at himself in the mirror and wonder at what rung of the ladder of life he is on. The dreamer is always looking to the top and then checking where his feet are on the rung and how far from the ground he has climbed. Usually not far.

The person who enjoys each opportunity (not necessarily related to his chosen field), who makes the most of every encounter and who behaves as a gentleman ought, who finds joy with others and gives of himself as his conscience dictates, will never be seduced by the dreams of some distant success. The more he gives of himself, the better he feels. His state of well being will be each day and his success will begin then and there. Later, perhaps and perhaps much later another success may come.

George, we must like ourselves. To do this we must perform good deeds and do our work well. If we like ourselves we develop an image of self-confidence and this becomes a more lasting effect than any amount of fame.

Your future is hidden, but not the present. It is the only reality and you are demanded to take care of the things at hand. From it the rest will follow and never ask yourself again that question that no one nor you can answer, have I chosen the right path. Once you consume yourself in the present, a different you will develop. Love Dad.

P.S. Remember, make time for everyone. It’s a great cure also for loneliness.

Looking back at this letter, I take much solace in it, as it revealed my father as the kind of person he wanted to be and which I knew him as: Kind, compassionate, caring and generous, that part of each of us one can call the Higher-Self. My father had many layers and continually reminded me that everyone else on the planet did as well.

Indeed there was so much to becoming a whole person, with self-confidence the key to overcoming self-doubt, with the expansion of humanity the key to overcoming self-aggrandizement.

From this lesson of not worrying too much about the future and distant success, it opened up other opportunities and over time I did revel more in the present than fret over the future.

Finally one door opened that changed my life forever.

I became a teacher and started teaching, first briefly as a sub in the Staten Island School System and then later, at a high school in Newark, NJ, where I spent two very rewarding years.

One of the classes I would teach was psychology, in which I imparted knowledge about self-esteem, self-awareness and self-worth. Not only would I teach these concepts over several semesters, but I would raise my own understanding of self through the daily lessons I created.

It would take a little longer before I got there, but ultimately that little education would become the basis of a more lasting fulfillment.

When we speak of education as something that can’t be taken away, that is the great gift one ultimately receives through it, a reward that transcends the diploma. It is a stamp and mark upon your given identity, a gift that keeps on giving.

The lesson of trying to stay more present rather than worrying about "distant success" has been something I continually grapple with. Over the course of my life, Dad would continually remind me that the future is now. Thinking back on his death, I'm reminded about the value of living fruitfully today. 

 

The Spirit of Gardening Centers (5/4-5/11)

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Written by George L. Nitti George L. Nitti

Category: Home and Garden Home and Garden

Over the past few weeks I've been watching the latest developments at various garden centers throughout the region and have been working to get into that spirit. To some extent, they have all been grappling with a mix of weather as their seasonal supplies of plants arrive to the marketplace. Last week I noted an explosion of new plants and supplies and was happy to take some photos of new growth. Plants tend to be very photogenic, especially if they are tended well.

I wonder what drives customers to a particular gardening center or nursery? Are they on a voyage like I am? Or are there other factors at play?

Proximity may be one factor. Price probably also weighs in on some consumer behavior and the kinds of deals, coupons, etc. that are being offered as incentive to get the customer through their door. The plants themselves must also be taken into account. Quality counts. For me, it’s also about the Oxygen. Regardless of which center I go to for my gardening needs, I inhale much better and enjoy the scent much more than say when I’m taking my car for repair. 

General's Garden in Warwick is in a great location as it is easy to get off Rt. 94 and into their gardening center, where there is plenty of parking. The hospitable and down to earth nature of their store manager, Kerry,  is another reason to stop in, as are owners Deborah and Michael Sweeton. I must say that my spending behavior has a lot to do with the disposition of a store’s staff. Finally, General’s Garden has a wide variety of plants and supplies – enough to suit my needs, like the Rosetone, bird seed or new pot that I found myself gravitating towards. 

Penning’s Farm Market, right across the way, is another big retailer of plants and gardening supplies. My eyes feasted on their hanging plants and large selection of pots while my mouth salivated for something to eat. At Penning’s I can read the local paper, listen to some pleasant tunes, have a draft on tap and consider my Mother’s Day options as I come to pick up my produce, organic meat and get a garden plant at the same time. They too have a wide selection of plants with a greenhouse filled with new prospects.

Over the hill in West Milford, Eden Farms is home to a large number of high quality plants, many of which are grown from seed. Their wide selection of spinners, unique gardening supplies and friendly staff are another reason to stop in and shop. There is a gardening gift I’m eager to purchase which I know will make a great gift to that gardening diva in your life. And of course mulch and soil is readily available.

Auntie El’s in Sloatsburg has been another favorite destination, in part because I really enjoy their baked products, some recent produce (we had oranges that were delicious), and also because right now they are showing off their gardening stuff, with so many plants vying to be taken home and interesting supplies like windmills and Mexican Pots. I took home some basil and I’m going back for a tomato plant and bloody Mary mix. Who knows what else I will find in this very eclectic center.

Hickory Hollow Nursery and Garden Center, located in Tuxedo, is unparalleled in terms of their huge selection of trees and shrubs. Right now as well they have many high quality plants in store and a great gift center. The energy on their property is wonderful as you are amidst waterfalls and plant life.

Finally Greenwood Lake’s Gardening Center is growing its business nicely, as I've seen a large increase in plants  from last year. Their entrance way with a new fountain really adds charm and they too have a great selection of  plants that are ready to be enjoyed.

What I really enjoy about getting out and exploring garden centers is to be amongst that which is growing. Somehow as the season unfolds and the growth continues, I find my spirit moving in a similar direction.

Creative Play in Nature (5/11-5/18)

Details

Written by George L. Nitti George L. Nitti

Category: Health & Spirit Health & Spirit

Last weekend I trampsed around the estate of the Seligmann Homestead as part of an event called Family Nature Play led by instructor Daniel Mack and then spent the better part of the class time looking at creativity while sharing some of what I found with a small group of intrepid souls, including a couple of children.

The idyllic Homestead, located in Sugar Loaf, NY was once the estate of the famed artist Kurt Seligmann, and is now a center for Surrealism, a host of cultural activities, the Orange County Citizen’s Foundation and the Orange County Arts Council. 55 acres set amidst mountains and farmland, just outside the quaint village, the Homestead presents a universe of its own - surrounded by wetlands, wooded areas, bogs and trails, a small oasis for nature lovers.

I started my jaunt visiting Kurt Seligmann’s gravestone. Born 1900. Died 1962, just a year before I was born. Soon my eyes were diverted by several turkey vultures that were perched on a tree just nearby. Behind the graveyard is a path that takes you down to a bog. And there are a few surprises along the way, like a stack of books piled 30 feet or so high. A little eerie – some fog and darkness would make it the perfect backdrop for a Halloween thriller.

In this ecological setting, there is plenty more to see, that is if you are in the frame of mind to look, be and venture out, to experience the smallest things in nature - a blade of grass or the glint of a shiny rock on a trickling stream or the infinite variety of life that passes before your very eyes. Such is the poetry of life. If I could bring something back it might be a poem about a transcendental moment.

Before we were set free to roam, Mack didn’t give too much advice except to say “I’m not taking you on a hike. This event is not about doing anything particular.  Bring something back and share it with us. You have 30 minutes to explore the grounds.” Mack is known for his work with natural materials as an artist and furniture maker and encouraged us to find objects in nature to bring back and play with – to use as the basis for creating something.

After returning from my 30 minute voyage, we shared our discoveries. Mack by this time was whittling on a piece of sculpture he had been working on earlier. The kids showed us what they brought back – some sticks and other debris from the woods. I didn’t bother picking anything up – I figured the pictures  I was taking were my contribution. Mack soon helped the kids place and mash daisies on paper. I took a picture of two open doorways and suggested our morning was like an opening between two doors with infinite possibilities.

Thoughtful conversations evolved out of our excursion, like a philosophy on teaching. It was a Saturday morning and we were experiencing being, watching things change before our very eyes, shifting perspectives and views.  There was nothing big or momentous about any of this. It’s the small things in which we find the sublime.

There were some books on a table that Mack brought in. Then some wood blocks. We moved them around in several positions alongside the sticks. Creation allows for shifting and rebalancing, relayering and reconfiguring, to the point where nothing is definitively set, until over time there is greater shape and form and it all comes together.

Move things around and see what you can make. Let nature be an inspiration and your inner voice a director.

The Spirit of Gardening Centers (5/4-5/11)

Details

Written by George L. Nitti George L. Nitti

Category: Week in Review Week in Review

Over the past few weeks I've been watching the latest developments at various garden centers throughout the region and have been working to get into that spirit. To some extent, they have all been grappling with a mix of weather as their seasonal supplies of plants arrive to the marketplace. Last week I noted an explosion of new plants and supplies and was happy to take some photos of new growth. Plants tend to be very photogenic, especially if they are tended well.

I wonder what drives customers to a particular gardening center or nursery? Are they on a voyage like I am? Or are there other factors at play?

Proximity may be one factor. Price probably also weighs in on some consumer behavior and the kinds of deals, coupons, etc. that are being offered as incentive to get the customer through their door. The plants themselves must also be taken into account. Quality counts. For me, it’s also about the Oxygen. Regardless of which center I go to for my gardening needs, I inhale much better and enjoy the scent much more than say when I’m taking my car for repair. 

General's Garden in Warwick is in a great location as it is easy to get off Rt. 94 and into their gardening center, where there is plenty of parking. The hospitable and down to earth nature of their store manager, Kerry,  is another reason to stop in, as are owners Deborah and Michael Sweeton. I must say that my spending behavior has a lot to do with the disposition of a store’s staff. Finally, General’s Garden has a wide variety of plants and supplies – enough to suit my needs, like the Rosetone, bird seed or new pot that I found myself gravitating towards. 

Penning’s Farm Market, right across the way, is another big retailer of plants and gardening supplies. My eyes feasted on their hanging plants and large selection of pots while my mouth salivated for something to eat. At Penning’s I can read the local paper, listen to some pleasant tunes, have a draft on tap and consider my Mother’s Day options as I come to pick up my produce, organic meat and get a garden plant at the same time. They too have a wide selection of plants with a greenhouse filled with new prospects.

Over the hill in West Milford, Eden Farms is home to a large number of high quality plants, many of which are grown from seed. Their wide selection of spinners, unique gardening supplies and friendly staff are another reason to stop in and shop. There is a gardening gift I’m eager to purchase which I know will make a great gift to that gardening diva in your life. And of course mulch and soil is readily available.

Auntie El’s in Sloatsburg has been another favorite destination, in part because I really enjoy their baked products, some recent produce (we had oranges that were delicious), and also because right now they are showing off their gardening stuff, with so many plants vying to be taken home and interesting supplies like windmills and Mexican Pots. I took home some basil and I’m going back for a tomato plant and bloody Mary mix. Who knows what else I will find in this very eclectic center.

Hickory Hollow Nursery and Garden Center, located in Tuxedo, is unparalleled in terms of their huge selection of trees and shrubs. Right now as well they have many high quality plants in store and a great gift center. The energy on their property is wonderful as you are amidst waterfalls and plant life.

Finally Greenwood Lake’s Gardening Center is growing its business nicely, as I've seen a large increase in plants  from last year. Their entrance way with a new fountain really adds charm and they too have a great selection of  plants that are ready to be enjoyed.

What I really enjoy about getting out and exploring garden centers is to be amongst that which is growing. Somehow as the season unfolds and the growth continues, I find my spirit moving in a similar direction.

Letter 5: The Sooner One Becomes Independent, The Better

Details

Written by George L. Nitti George L. Nitti

Category: Letters from My Father: Lessons I've Learned Letters from My Father: Lessons I've Learned

After the summer at the Hampton Playhouse, returning home was not an option. My father made that clear.

“I do not believe, should you be thinking of living at home, that such an arrangement would work. It was tried last year and it was miserable for all. You have been on your own too long to return excepting for short periods. I think you are a big boy now and it is time for you to take on most of the responsibilities.”

So that put an end to any thoughts that I had about returning to the nest. I was a bird on my own, learning to fly, for the first time.

I’m sure it was not an easy decision for my father to let go, for I know how much he loved me and enjoyed my company and did everything he could to help me. But it was the best decision for both of us.  I needed to learn independence which couldn’t be taught in a classroom.

So I moved to Staten Island where I roomed with a writer/poet named Eugene Ring.  I met Eugene through my friend Nils, whom I met in Japan when I was a foreign exchange student. Nils was from Staten Island and when he heard I was looking for a place to live, he introduced me to Eugene, who lived in an apartment complex right down the road.  For two years, I would live in Staten Island, continuing to pursue and study acting while working as a waiter in NYC, amongst other jobs. My father would later write:

 "A father sees the boy too long and therefore presumes always that person will remain a boy. Life doesn’t work that way; a day comes when each must face the other as men – equals and independent. Although a transition period is there, such transition from boyhood to manhood if recognized is abrupt, neither realizing that a period of time has been passing."

Certainly a period of time had been passing and I was making baby steps towards manhood. Going to college, becoming a foreign exchange student, having experiences like summer theatre, and then finally living on my own, all of that gave me opportunities to explore the different facets of myself.

But I’m not sure that manhood is one of those points in time in which you can say “I’ve arrived.” What does one know of manhood when one has yet to experience all of the other trials and tribulations of life such as getting married, having children, buying a first home, being drafted to war, and watching loved one’s die. Some of us seem to have “manhood” thrust upon us earlier in life, shaped by greater responsibilities or hardship or tragedy or any number of other elements that come into the mix to turn our lives upside down. Some of us seem to take on those responsibilities as if they were always designed to be men. At the time I don’t believe I had reached manhood, but I was becoming independent.

With independence, I had creative license, which abounded in my journal, where I wrote regularly, as it became a great source of pride, particularly during this time when I felt I was making breakthroughs in style and voice. My journal entries took on new form, with each entry a short, poetic story.

Unlike the first journal I kept when I was in Japan, which was more or less a daily accounting of events, this journal would be different. I write, “I’ve tried to avoid the routine of recording daily events as often is style of the Diary, and in the past few months I’ve tried to express myself differently. I feel expression so much linked to truth that I can’t abandon the need to fulfill myself through it.  Thus writing, art, creativity, ect has been inclining in my life.”

I also started a comedy box, where I recorded humorous ideas because I was contemplating doing stand-up comedy. I write: “I can be funny is on my mind today. I’m glad I’ve kept my comedy box, but for the most part I haven’t entered any stories of comic value for about the past year. Since then my interests have gone from comedy to singing to writing comic songs.” Doodling funny ideas on paper was not the same as writing comic monologues, which I had a chance to do later in life and perform in NYC comedy clubs for a very short period of time.

Writing stories was another avenue I explored, as I wrote several stories based on some personal experiences, which I would later submit to NYC literary agents. Writing short stories, however, didn’t sustain my interest completely, as it was only one vehicle of self-expression and at the time, limiting. Writing in the 3^rd person, I express this frustration. “The fact is that he wished that he could concoct stories to please all but the truth was that he could only come up with empty realism that he saw before him every day.” Although it may have appeared that I was afraid to take that imaginative leap into the realm of fiction, I think I was even more afraid of commitment to a path that would be too narrow.

The fact was that I had a hard time placing myself anywhere. The creative arts were really exploding inside of me and I wanted a piece of it all, which was expressed in another journal entry. “I like to challenge myself by constantly taking on new things. I really ought to have more of a singularity of purpose – but my challenge has always been to uncover the generalities of many subjects than the details of one in general.” I admired Ben Franklin and other renaissance men whom over the course of a lifetime had accomplished many things. Would I strike out to become such a man?

Hampton Playhouse proved to be very formative. If Hampton gave me a love for anything, it was music. Growing up, I had no exposure to musical theatre whatsoever besides those familiar standards sung by Sinatra and other crooners my parents enjoyed listening to – so being exposed to shows like  42^nd street, and composers such as George Gershwin and Irving Berlin opened my mind to new musical possibilities.

When living in Staten Island, I frequently took the Staten Island Ferry to Battery Park, where I’d catch a #1 train to Lincoln Center. There they had a great library in which you could borrow music scores and thus began my journey learning about great composers. George and Ira Gershwin were my favorites and I learned as many tunes from them as I could like "Someone to Watch over Me," "A Foggy Day in London Town" and "Nice Work If You Can Get It." These songs were committed to memory and others from the great American Songbook, which I sang every day traveling that ferry boat to the city until they were in my blood. I was a bit of a romantic walking the streets of the city, singing songs of love.

Although my intent was to become an actor, I was picking up all kinds of new things living in close proximity to NYC. Outside of taking acting classes, I enrolled at the New School of Music in the West Village and started learning how to play the guitar. I studied guitar for a year, learning some of my favorite popular music, much of which was from the 70’s. Before I knew it I was playing and singing on my own. This would become a great source of self-satisfaction, filling many hours while I was biding my time waiting for a big break, some point in that distant future when my dreams would all come true.

With this acquired interest in music, I was planting other seeds. Singing and composition. Those seeds would not come to fruition for a few more years, but they were growing inside me nonetheless.

Dad’s letters came steadily, almost weekly. They could be counted on like his phone calls could be counted on every Sunday, encouraging me to pursue my own path as I was expressing impatience over not becoming more successful, sooner. A few thoughts from my journal capture that restless spirit.

“How patient we must be while having to prepare madly for our future careers. I haven’t had too many successes of late. No exciting stories to take up these pages. I always feel more successful when I have one-even if it is about the greatest failure….These days not much to do but prepare. When you’re young it seems as if that is all one ever does.”

Despite all of my activity, I still had an instinctual feeling that I was a writer, gaining greater confidence through journal writing, letters to my father, and new experiences about which I could write. One of my journal entries captures this self-revelation yet with underlying ambivalence. “Deep down I think I’m a writer and everything else is just distractions. But I have still been unable to reconcile that motivation with that of becoming an actor.  Maybe if I could write with people around me-kinda of like a performance – I could reconcile the two and be what I always wanted to be – something undefinable.”

Looking back at that time I don’t think I could be completely satisfied with where I was. I was looking for something over a rainbow, way up high, expecting to reach an unreachable goal as if pulling clouds from the sky and trying to hold them in my hand. There was nothing that existed that could satisfy my burning desire, nothing tangible that could be grasped to indicate that somehow I had arrived.

The same impossible dream that Don Quixote may have been smitten with.

If I knew my life would be a song, so perfect and so sweet, and would come to a poignant end, how much more secure I would have been resting in the bosom of that eternity. But there were no guarantees of such a heaven.

Manhood would require me to take another view and thus I had a lot more growing up to do. My father held my hand and continued to show me the way.

The steps we take and those words we speak may indeed come true. But they are songs for tomorrow for there are other songs that must be played today.