Arts & Entertainment

Letter2: “Count your blessings and have faith in them”

August, 1985

The summer of 85' was a big turning point in my life. I was at the University of Michigan studying an intensive unit of Japanese language, during one of the hottest months on record. At least it seemed that way. I had just broken up with a girl I had been going out with in the springtime of 85’ and between the loss and lost feeling of what I was going to do with my life, I was feeling depressed. Not clinically. Just normal feelings of depression that accompany loneliness, when one is adrift, uncertain, hurt and filled with lingering sadness. 

My father wanted me to continue to pursue my studies in Japanese. In 1983 - 1984 I went to Japan as a foreign exchange student, spent another year at Michigan studying Japanese language and now was enrolled in a 3rd year intensive language class where the stakes were higher. Either you make it or you move on. And I was getting ready to move on. What I thought I knew about Japanese language was miniscule to what was expected of me, requiring more time studying in a solitary situation with books that were as dry as anatomy. I just couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel where my future was awaiting. I expressed those feelings to my father and he responded.

Dear George,

I was sitting in on a conversation in the doctors lounge where Dr. Rosin was expounding on the tremendous strides the Japanese are making in all walks of enterprises.

What he says makes sense and there is little doubt about the fact that they will and are the dominate factor in the world today. Let us not kid ourselves. There will be many places for you to do what you would like to do because of the sacrifices you make today. As an American you will belong to a very special minority that has the tools of language and culture that will be able to communicate with a culture that right now is giving this country a run for its money. We, fortunately, live in times of compromise rather than collision, and this requires mediators, whether in business or on the political scene.

Your assets in your chosen field of study will someday be of considerable use, but what that use will be can only be determined when you arrive at that someday, for it will be governed by those opportunities available then. When you would write from Japan you would emphasize the importance of doing what is necessary every day and that the future would take care of itself. This applies as much now. More so, because each one of us inevitably goes through periods of doubt, or just bad times, and these unfortunately work against our purposes, or goals. It’s usual to second guess, smell our armpits and have concern about our ultimate destiny. Unfortunately, destiny has its own plans for our future and they can never be foreseen. But preparation becomes the only tool we have to alter destiny and that you are doing.

Do you think you would ever be considered for admission to so esteemed institutions in Japan without the present background you have and have worked so hard at to earn? George, damn it, you have busted your ass and should feel proud of what you are achieving. You have not been standing still. God-willing you will graduate from one of the best universities in this country. Don’t’ dwell so much on being the best as being you. In the end you will win your struggle because you persevere. But look forward to a brightness in your future. You will eventually get the opportunity to do what you are destined to do. But each day you prepare, you alter ultimately and enlarge your destiny.

From a selfish standpoint of a parent maybe being a little wiser, or maybe not, though I feel for your suffering and ache for your misery, I think this love you’ve had may have arrived too early for what remains and can be done by only you, alone.  Love, Dad

P.S. Received both your letters. You sound much better. Keep it up.

In that letter my father had enclosed a NY Times article by Clyde Haberman entitled “Japan 40 Years After War: Rich, Powerful, Uneasy.” The article centered around Japan’s role as an emerging international player on the scene of foreign affairs against the backdrop of their national identity and my father envisioned a role somewhere in there for me. But I couldn’t see that future. Too much uncertainty clouded the path. It was one thing to pursue a life as a doctor, where at the end of medical school, you knew the outcome – you would be practicing medicine somewhere. But not so as a diplomat or person on the world scene, business, political or otherwise. Maybe Kissinger knew where he was directing his footsteps. I had no clue where I was directing mine. I couldn't see myself going to Washington like Mr. Smith.

My father’s letters consoled me, despite his nudging. I didn’t feel that he was telling me what to do, just trying to guide me and encourage me to stick to a path. As for responding to my depression at the time, particularly over the end of a relationship, he wrote:

Dear George

The old song, “Grab your coat and get your hat, leave your worries on the doorstep, just direct your feet to the sunny side of the street. I used to walk in the shade, with my blues on parade…….life could be so sweet, on the sunny side of the street.”

Let’s work on cheering up and doing the things we like to do. Most of us got troubles and to each of us these are the biggest things in the world. The idea is to pretend, lie about how we feel, but get going and press living. And if we hit bottom occasionally, look how much there is to look forward to climbing back up.

As a matter of fact most people hide their troubles for that reason. It doesn’t help. Most of the time dwelling on them holds you back from stepping out and enjoying yourself. If you think that Japanese is boring for eight hours a day, try anatomy for a lot longer, sometimes eighteen. You will find your proper niche in good time. In the meantime try to suffer as little as possible while you do your work….

By the fall of 1985, enrolled in my senior year at the University, I started to take control of “my destiny.” I took creative writing and acting classes and was filled with new hope. It wasn’t easy breaking the news to my father and I can only recall that he didn’t take it very well. To some extent his dreams were invested in me. But what was important were my dreams, not my father’s. And at the end of all of this he knew that and continued to stick with me, regardless. He came for the long ride and I was going to give him his money’s worth! One way or another it would all work out in the end. I knew that. My father’s road was long. Mine would probably be longer. The road is long when you are in the desert with only sand under your feet, a blistering sun above and a poor sense of direction to guide you out.

But I had faith in my dreams. My father had helped give me that. At the end of my father's letter, he said, "Your Uncle John always said, "Count your blessings and have faith in them too."" 

There were so many blessings. Like not being born in the desert. Or in poverty. I was a kid that was pretty well taken care of. Who was I really in the big scheme of everything?

Count your blessings. You're darn right. Above everything, count them and have faith in them. It's not so bad living in the land of plenty.

Lesson 1: Get on the Road of your Dreams

In 1988 I was working at the American Stage Company in Teaneck, NJ.  I graduated from the University of Michigan in 1986 and decided I wanted to become an actor. Around that time I moved to NYC, studied at several acting schools and had dreams of "making it" as an actor.

At the American Stage Company, under the artistic direction of actor Paul Sorvino, I worked backstage as an assistant stage manager for the upcoming roster of productions and it was my goal to get an equity card through serving an internship, as it would give me the ability to audition at Equity Theatre Productions and get hired as an actor in professional theatre. 

My uncle Frank met the producers of the American Stage Company on a bus enroute to Atlantic City, where he played poker on a regular basis. He was a former bookie dating back to the 50’s and parlayed most of his money into real estate by the 60’s, choosing to lead a more straight and narrow life, after he got married.

Uncle Frank gave me sobering advice about becoming an actor. He told me it was a numbers game with very poor odds. The sooner I realized that the better.  It was also the very handsome and dear family friend Robert Krugman from Ridgewood, NJ, where I grew up, who who shed light on the challenges of the trade. He frequently talked to me about his ambitions of pursuing acting in the 1950’s when he was enrolled at the Actor’s Studio. He recounted how all the actors he knew were lining up to become the next James Dean. As good looking and talented as he was, those doors didn't open for him. He would become a fashion designer, where he had a long and satisfying career. He seemed to elude the possiblity that a similar fate may await me, yet not to be disappointed if it did.

The biggest question I had in my life at the time was what will happen to me? Will I make it? And it was my father whom I could turn to for advice, knowing that he wasn’t going to admonish me for my choices. He would serve as a constant support, both financially when I needed it and when I was starved for career guidance.

This letter that arrived helped pacify me, giving me solace that I could not really know the answer to that question - for the future was unwritten.

Dec. 2nd 1988

Dear George,

'What will happen to me in this only life I am destined to have,' you ask. You have chosen a more unorthodox career so you have to face a longer struggle – perhaps. Perhaps you will soon get your precious “card.” You have made new friends including Hemingway so the road you travel is not without riches.

Success is a danger, only misery loves company. Life is an enigma for my spry 97 year old patient who bemoans the fact that the insurance will not cover his medical bills. I tell him at his age he is immune but he finds his inability to pay a great injury to his pride. Pauperism is one of man’s greatest fears.

The world is so constituted in complexity that it is only necessary to travel on any road and in any direction to participate in its many wonders, and then because it is round return to where one started. The whole expedition essentially accomplishing nothing, yet everything for such is the destiny we are condemned to with all the thrills to be found along the road.

At least in the arts and periphery there exists a more fertile ambience for intellectual communication. Your cousin Joseph might be considered along with yourself to have learned what the educational process had hoped to convey. You both are curious, self-reliant and interestingly, first-born and blood.

Have faith, continued faith, in yourself. What you have chosen is noble and you, able. You will prevail when the others falter.

There is no guarantee for your success nor is there for anyone. All of life is a mystery, making no sense to prince or pauper.

I have just examined a good lady who has an abnormal shadow on a recent mammography. The only way to tell if this is malignant is to do a biopsy and to do this the patient needs to be put to sleep. She has been scheduled in 1 week. Until then her life is in a state of suspended animation because if this is breast cancer whatever other struggles her road has will be deferred. She will worry until the biopsy – fortunately, the odds are good that the shadow is insignificant, not quite good enough not to biopsy.

 For me a case, a fee, a presence in the operating room at The Valley Hospital.

Enjoyed your letter. Love Dad.

The Valley Hospital in Ridgewood NJ was where my father practiced medicine for over thirty years, dating back to the 60’s.

In this letter there is plenty to chew on.

My father refers to the road on several occasions. That road he referred to is “the road” that is our journey in this life, like the road from The Wizard of Oz, “The Road less Traveled” from Robert Frost or On the Road with Jack Kerouac. The road is a lovely metaphor for the journe we find ourselves on.  Each road leads to another destination where our most important pursuit is finding the meaning along the way. For me, that road has become like the hero's journey, the mythical voyage about which Joseph Campbell wrote, and in which we are the heroes.

As a teacher, which I would later become, "the road" was rich and suggestive. I worked to instill that idea in my students and to get them to see their own journey's as magical, where they are the heroes just like Odysseus, Dorothy and so many others.

One thing was for sure. I would pick up the language of the road and understand it as a place for the journey we are on. Somehow this wonderful, mythical journey begins and ends on a road. Our own unique road, whether we choose it or not.  It is ours, we own it and eventually the road becomes us.

Where will the road lead? I learned that tomorrow always brings something new on this road. I’m starting to carve out my own little niche. I’m learning too, that it is never too late to get on the road to your dreams.

Leonardo da Vinci's 'Vitruvian Man' Reimagined

vitruvianman
Printed in an edition of 20, Vitruvian's Daughter is a combination woodcut, linocut and pochoir which has been hand printed in the Shore Publishing printshop in Tuxedo, NY.
 
Artist William Villalongo created the print based on imagery from a recent series of paintings he made in his Brooklyn studio. "My work is fiction. I've been exploring how color and geometry can become metaphors for an expansive interiority and the historical relationship of the termiology of color to the representation of the black figure," he says. 

Read more: Leonardo da Vinci's 'Vitruvian Man' Reimagined