Category Archives: Senior Executives

But then my movie fades, kind of like a haze, just when you were about to deeply buy into this 40 year old guy and hear about his upcoming battle, the demons he fought back, the family he endeavors to support and protect and the ideals he fights for…. It feels like the kind of haze one experiences after a few too many chardonnays as you await a friend’s arrival at a bar, she is late. You start to stare into space and the whole bar seems to be enveloped in a fog.

I awake again, but I am in another bedroom. This one is more visible, sort of, actually as I wake up and look around its very clear in some spots but the hazy in others, similar to the feeling one would have scanning the room with a telescope, sometimes the landscape is crystal clear and you shift a bit, and then not. Faded wood paneling stained that white grayish color, a carpet of geometric patterns. Can’t quite make it out defiantly a lot of Blue. There is a dog on the floor. German short hair pointer. Very clear, crystal. Not crystal clear, the dogs name was Crystal. Loved that dog. Oddly enough as I stare at the clock it looks like a very familiar white cube. Bookcases, lots of Judaic studies books, huge books, 18 inches high, 28 inches wide when opened, 3 inches thick when closed. Tons of books, filling dozens of shelves. Gifts from family, friends, synagogue or temple. Two to three hundred books. Many were given on the day my movie production was green lit. Bar mitzvah or coming of age books. Bibles, Prophets, Judaic law books, the Talmud and all the logic, wisdom and epic stories they held. My movie’s director and producer must have said, “here are the scripts the “how to” on production casting and stunts, theatre 101, acting for dummies, special effects for dummies (very helpful), comedies, action and quite a bit of depressing tragedy. “Go fourth, read them, and you shall understand your movie” I didn’t do much of the reading, I got a bit distracted. I am sure my teen age stage of the movie did not turn out quite like my director had hoped. The bookshelves fade. I am up like a robot. Don’t think much. Or at least I don’t think I am thinking as I make my way to the bathroom. I’m thirteen. I don’t hear the bell go off yet but I am methodical in my morning routine, preparing for the battles I do not understand but I know are coming. I have been told they are coming. I have been in training to face them since as far back as I can remember. He was constantly preparing me. I am told from as far back as my mother’s womb, he would whisper to me. “Its really hard out here kid, get ready and toughen up”, and other sage advice such as “Don’t take any wooden nickels”. I was born in 1968, he was 25. He must have been through a great deal of difficult times, or at least be a pretty intense guy, to be warning his unborn son of the perils that might await him rather than sing a lullaby. I never did see a wooden nickel, but it was some of the most useful advice he ever did give me.