August 25, 2025 is the 50th anniversary of the release of Bruce Springsteen’s album, Born to Run. Bruce was a big part of my adolescence and through college. Born to Run, The River, and Born in the USA were the anthem of my coming of age in the 70s and 80s.
As I read his blog and thought about the song on it’s 50th anniversary, I was inspired to think about the song in a different way. I went back to an old version of the song that I stumbled upon years ago. It is a very different version yet entirely recognizable. The music is very similar but the lyrics, the lack of harmonica, and the lightness in the song are noticably different. The intention of the story remains the same – a right of passage, a blank page as Neil describes in his blog, an exciting, unknown future. Yet the difference is signficant. The protaganist is different. The song is much more focused on the freedom of the car and what that means than the journey itself. As I listen to Bruce sing it, I understand where he’s going with the song, especially knowing the final version. It’s a beautiful version yet it isn’t the classic that millions have come to love. It’s part of his journey. Take a listen for yourself. I love it and enjoy the differences.
Early version of Thunder Road – enjoy the differences
When I listen to this song and then listen to the classic version, it is easy to see the process of growth. From a blank sheet of paper, Bruce got the version above. From a blank sheet of paper in our lives, we can get something beautiful. And just like Bruce, it doesn’t have to be the final version. When he wrote the song, it was about Angelina. The final version it is Mary. People come in and out of our lives, just like they came in and out of Bruce’s version of Thunder Road. Angelina is beautiful and powerful and was critical to the song. Until she wasn’t and it was Mary. The 442 was an essential part of Thunder Road in the first version until it wasn’t in the final version. As you listen, you will note so many things in the first version that do not appear in the final version.
That is life. As we approach Rosh Hashanah, we have a blank slate in front of us. We have the entire year to craft what is going to fill the page. Had Bruce left the song in its original format, it would have been a fantastic song. One people loved. Instead, he used the time he had to continue to work on it, to continue to alter what he put on the page, until he came up with the final, iconic version. I enjoy both. That’s the beauty of life – we can enjoy and appreciate the journey, the early versions of who we are, and the versions that we are today, all while we work to be a better version of ourselves.
As Rosh Hashanah creeps closer and I prepare a new, clean sheet of paper for the upcoming year, I am excited about the possibilities for that blank sheet of paper. What will I write? What colors will I used? Will there be artwork or just text? I don’t know what the page will contain but I do know that I will not settle for the first draft nor will I regret what the first draft looks like. When I get to the full page, I won’t forget the journey it took to get there or the beauty of the versions along the way that led to that final version.
Just like the clear notes in the first version of Thunder Road without the iconic harmonica, to the completely different lyrics that change from the freedom of a car to how he feels about the future, the path there is different but the song, like our lives, get us to a wonderful place as long as we appreciate the journey.
The classic version of Thunder Road
As you listen to both, I hope each speaks to you in a different way. I hope you enjoy and love each version for the message it provides and the different ways that Bruce uses to get there. That’s our blank sheet of paper. What are we going to choose to write on it? Are we going to be satisfied with the first version? If we aren’t, are we going to be critical of the early versions and not appreciate how critical they were to get us to the version we finally share with the world? Can we look at the early versions with love and appreciation rather than cringe at the things we ultimately found didn’t work and
In his Broadway show, Bruce talks about the song before playing an acoustic version of it. He talks about the blank page and how much he misses the beauty of that blank page as he has gotten older. The promise, the possibilities. As he says, “so much life in front of you.” The reality is that Rosh Hashanah gives us that blank page every year. The question is are you going to take it? Are you going to realize that we get the freedom to clean up our messes and begin fresh every year. As Bruce says at the end of the introduction, “Just daring you to write on it.”
I’d love to sit and talk with Bruce about the song. What he was thinking in that first version and why he made the changes he made. I’d love to hear his thoughts on that first version. Does he love it and embrace it as a part of who he was and how he got to where he is? Or does he hear only things he removed and think it’s a lesser version and is upset that it’s out in the public. The deep conversations that are possible from comparing an early version to a much more finished version are exciting. Just like our lives – the early, unvarnished, exploratory versions compared to the more polished, public facing versions.
Take the next few weeks to decide if you are going to dare to write on that blank page that the upcoming year offers you. No matter how old you are, no matter how much life you have behind or ahead of you, the blank page is still there. You can leave it and just look back on the prior pages and what you have written before. Or you can dare, be filled with adventure, and choose to write something new on that blank page. I know what my choice is. What’s yours going to be?
Today’s song is “Letter to Me” by Brad Paisley from 2015. I find it very inspirational and thoughtful as I’m sure most of us have often thought about what we might tell the 17-year-old version of ourselves if we had the ability to go back and give some advice.
The song begins:
If I could write a letter to me and send it back in time to myself at 17 First I’d prove it’s me by saying “Look under your bed, there’s a Skoal can and a Playboy no one else would know you hid.”
We all have said to ourselves, “If I only knew then what I know now” about something. How would we even know it was us from the future to know to listen? The beginning of the song is that connection point between the us of today and the us of then. We all had things hidden, secrets we kept from others when we were teenagers. The connection here reminds us that we are still the person we were in the past, just changed by experiences and time. And we can connect with that person from the past anytime we want by channeling those things that meant a lot to us and we didn’t share.
I spent this past weekend with my mom, brother and sister for a family Bat Mitzvah. As we talked about our kids and lessons they have learned or are learning, my brother brought up how he always uses me as the example to his kids. He does this, not because I was a pillar of virtue but actually because I wasn’t. I’m the cautionary tale because I pushed the boundaries and took silly risks and did risky things. The me of today wouldn’t be recognized by the 17-year-old version of myself and I would need to provide some sort of ‘street cred’ to convince that 17 year old version of myself that I really was the same person, just grown up.
We don’t have to be embarrassed by the person we were. We can identify with them and appreciate them for who they were and grateful that we are who we are today. We don’t have to be trapped by our past and can look forward to the present and the future.
And then I’d say I know it’s tough When you break up after seven months And, yeah, I know you really liked her, and it just don’t seem fair But all I can say is pain like that is fast and it’s rare.
It’s funny how our world view changes as we get older. As a teenager, a month was forever. As an adult, a month disappears so quickly it’s hard to believe. A seven-month relationship at 17 seems like forever. Having been married almost 26 years, seven months is the blink of an eye. Being able to put context to time only happens with maturity. That 17-year-old version of myself would be devastated losing a relationship after seven months. That was an eternity. The song reminds us of a few things.
First, life isn’t fair. Life is life. It comes how it comes and it is all about how we deal with the things that come. Sometimes that means we have to deal with pain. The good news is the pain will pass or lessen. But it takes time. And at 17, time isn’t something we understand. My senior year of high school I had a relationship that ended after around 8-9 months. I was devastated. I thought she was the one. We’d been together such a long time. When I look back, I can appreciate the pain and can appreciate how time is completely relative. And while it felt like the pain lasted a long time, it really didn’t. It was fast. I moved on. I haven’t seen or talked to her in nearly 40 years. What was so incredibly painful at 17 passed quickly, even though at the time it felt slow. It’s critical to remember that time is precious and goes too fast. At 17 it didn’t seem that way. Now it seems to go far too fast.
And, oh, you got so much going for you, going right But I know at 17 it’s hard to see past Friday night She wasn’t right for you and still you feel like there’s a knife sticking out of your back and you’re wondering if you’ll survive it You’ll make it through this and you’ll see you’re still around to write this letter to me
Perspective is one of those things we all need and struggle with. The song continues by pointing out to the 17-year-old version that so much is going right yet the focus is on the one thing that isn’t. And even though she wasn’t right for him, and he probably knew it at 17, it still hurts. Pain is a part of life. If we are going to live life, we are going to experience pain. People will disappoint us. People will leave us. Things won’t always go the way we want them to. Yet we move forward and get beyond the immediate hurt into a better future.
My friend and spiritual advisor, Mickey Singer, always talks about preference. It’s preference that gets us into trouble. We prefer something go a certain way because of our limited view. He reminds me that things happen the way they are supposed to happen. Our job is to get rid of preference and understand that. It’s the short-term view vs. the long-term view. When I look back at the life my 17-year-old self wanted and expected, mine is very different. It’s better. More fulfilling. More successful in almost every way possible. If I had stuck with what I wanted at 17, I would have shorted myself an incredible amount.
Like the song says, in the moment we may wonder if we’ll ever get through the pain but we always will if we keep moving forward. And at some point we will be able to look back, appreciate what we went through for what it taught us and what we learned, and be incredibly grateful we are where we are and not back where we would have been.
At the stop sign at Tomlinson and 8th, I always stop completely, don’t just tap your brakes And when you get a date with Bridget, make sure the tank is full On second thought, forget it, hat one turns out kinda cool.
This verse makes me laugh. It’s the older version trying to give basic advice to the younger version. Stop completely at the stop sign. I think back to the younger version of myself and what advice I’d give myself like this. The girls I didn’t realize liked me and in hindsight saw they did. The opportunities I missed that I could have taken advantage of. The small things that my younger self would have appreciated but really don’t mean anything. The older version realizes this when he starts saying to make sure the tank is full of gas. That’s the adult thing to do. The younger version ended up with a great experience and story. Our older selves don’t always know best.
I think about appreciating the challenges that I had growing up. My older self could give advice that would let me avoid lots of mistakes and awkward situations. But then I would not be the person that I am. I would not be able to do the things I can do. I wouldn’t have learned the lessons I did to become who I am. So as much as the older me thinks it would be nice to save the younger version of me some pain, grief, and embarrassment, just like in the song, the realization that it really was for the best is critical.
It’s another reminder that we aren’t in charge. As Mickey would tell me regularly, we are here to experience life and everything that comes with it. Each experience we have in life is a gift, even the things we don’t prefer (there is that preference again). They shape who we are, who we will become, and how we will impact and change the world. It gives us a chance to be grateful for every experience because even the painful ones will pass. I am who I am today because of the experiences of my life to this point. Why would I want a younger me to miss those experiences when it would mean I wouldn’t be who I am?
Each and every time you have a fight, just assume you’re wrong and dad is right And you should really thank Ms. Brinkman She spends so much extra time, it’s like she sees a diamond underneath And she’s polishing you ’til you shine.
This reminds me of a famous Mark Twain saying that I heard years ago. “The older we get, the smarter my parents become.” As a teen, I was sure that my dad didn’t get it. He was a child of the 50s and 60s. I was a child of the 70s and 80s. It was a different time. What did he know about modern times? And yet, the older I got, the more I realized his wisdom. The more I understood that he did know what he was talking about and the more I sought his advice. Now that he isn’t here any longer, I miss his wisdom and advice. I often find myself wanting to ask him for that guidance, to share his wisdom. I’m glad that I got smarter as I got older and had a chance to learn from him. It allows me the opportunity to imagine what he would say. The messages that he would tell me. It’s because I had a chance to learn from him that I can apply that knowledge to imagine what he’d say and how he’d guide me.
The second line is the reminder to appreciate all the other teachers and influencers in our lives. Often times we don’t appreciate those who give us that guidance as mentors, role models, friends, and teachers. As I think back, there are many people I would like to say thank you to. People who believed in me and encouraged me to try a little harder, show up a little more, put in that extra effort. They saw the diamond in the rough and were willing to invest their time, energy, and effort into polishing it (me).
It also reminds me that I have that same responsibility today. I find that there are so many amazing people out there that just need some encouragement, somebody who will invest time in them, somebody who believes in them. I am proud of the people who I have been able to serve that role for. One of them recently said to me:
“My time at UF was shaped by talking with you and others who taught me more than I ever would have done in a classroom.“
It’s nice to know that I have been paying it forward on behalf of those who did the same for me. I believe it’s our responsibility to both realize and recognize those who provided that mentorship and guidance to us and to pay it forward with others. It’s what makes the world better. I have a number of people that I have been able to play that role for and as they achieve success and do amazing things to change the world, I know I had a small part in it. It’s very gratifying. If I could go back to my 17-year-old self, I would want to encourage that kid to say thank you and recognize those people. A thank you means the world and from personal experience, just makes me want to help more people. I wonder how many other people would be impacted if that 17 year old version of me recognized and thanked all those people who saw potential and invested in me?
Oh, you got so much going for ya, going right But I know, at 17 it’s hard to see past Friday night Tonight’s the bonfire rally but you’re staying home insteadBecause if you fail algebra, mom and dad’ll kill you dead But trust me, you’ll squeak by and get a C And you’re still around to write this letter to me
Once again, the song focuses on perspective. The end of the week and the weekend was everything. A week was a long time. The events and choices we made seemed so critical, so essential. Algebra and grades. SAT scores. Who to take to prom. The things that seem so important at the time that in hindsight really weren’t.
It’s also a lesson that sometimes good enough is good enough. It doesn’t mean we shouldn’t strive for excellence. Nobody can be excellent in everything all the time. Nobody can know everything about everything. It’s simply not a realistic expectation yet as teenagers we often think it is what we need to do. There are times when being perfect or the best isn’t what is needed. Sometimes we just need to get by. Sometimes success is simply accomplishing the goal, passing the class, doing what it takes.
Expectations, often unrealistic ones, cause us much harm. They are usually not based on fact or on what we really can accomplish. They tend to come from other people or from societal expectations. As we get older, we have the ability to choose to accept them or not. As a teen, our parents, teachers, and peers have undue influence. The song reminds us that we don’t have to accept the expectations put upon us by others. We can choose to if we want, but it’s a choice. We are not doomed to fail because we didn’t meet the expectations of others.
You’ve got so much up ahead You’ll make new friends You should see your kids and wife
The future is bright. We can get the things we really want. More is ahead than behind. These are all messages our 17-year-old self needs to hear. The person we thought was “the one” at 17 may or may not be. That relationship not working out doesn’t mean we’ll never be married, never have kids.
We can look to the future with excitement no matter our age. There is always so much ahead, even the older we get. The length of time to experience thing may be shorter than at 17 but that doesn’t mean there are not new adventures and experiences ahead.
Life is a journey. We make new friends. We have new experiences. Things continue to change in our lives. We don’t have to worry if it will or won’t change – it will! We don’t have to wonder if it will be good. It may not be what we want. It may not be what we hoped. Iti s what is on our journey.
I love the line, “you should see your kids and wife.” There isn’t any detail added to the statement. It doesn’t say they are amazing or incredible. Yet that is what is inferred. It reminds us that we don’t need all the detail to know something is good. And as we look towards the future, we don’t know what will be. When we look back, we can be filed with gratitude for what we got.
And I’ll end by saying have no fear These are nowhere near the best years of your life I guess I’ll see you in the mirror when you’re a grown man.
We often think of times in the past as being the best years of our lives. Especially when we are looking at times when we didn’t have significant responsibilities. It’s also easy to think that our high school years are the best years of our life and perhaps we are wasting them. Or our college years. Or our 20s or 30s. The reality is that today is the best year of our life all the time. It’s about what we do with our time, not when or where we are in life. Our job is to seize the day. Make the most of the day, of the time, of the life that we have rather than thinking about the life we used to have.
P.S. go hug Aunt Rita every chance you can.
And oh, you got so much going for you going right But I know, at 17 it’s hard to see past Friday night
I love the P.S. This is the reminder to tell the ones we love that we love them. To appreciate those in our lives while we still can. I was blessed to have my Great Grandma Rose in my life into my 20s. All four grandparents into my 20s. Two grandfathers into my early 30s. My dad into my mid 50s. My mom today. My in-laws today. I would love to have them all today, but I also don’t have any regrets for not hugging them, telling them I love them, or spending time with them. I took advantage of every chance I had. One of my favorite stories about my Great Grandma Rose happened near the end of her life. I had sent her a card just because I loved her and was thinking of her. My Grandpa Si was visiting her and she was so excited. She kept telling him, “I got a letter from Keith, I got a letter from Keith.” Grandpa Si asked her, “Well what did it say?” She responded, “I don’t know, I can’t read it. But I got a letter from Keith.” Just thinking about it makes me smile.
We are all limited by time. Don’t miss the time you have with the ones you love. Another day is never promised. Make sure they know how you feel about them and spend the time with them while you can. My mom, brother, sister, and I all just spent the weekend in Chicago for a family Bat Mitzvah. It was a wonderful time being with family and even more special to have the four of us together. I never want to wish I had spent more time with them or told them I loved them. That’s the lesson in this song.
Dancing with my mom. All 3 of us took a turn.
I wish you’d study Spanish, I wish you’d take a typing class I wish you wouldn’t worry and let it be Hey, I’d say have a little faith and you’ll see
If I could write a letter to me
The last line of the song has a bit of irony. It’s the little things you don’t think about as a teen that can have a long-term benefit as an adult. Learning Spanish, a language that helps a career. Typing to make computer use easier. There are so many mundane choices we make as kids that seem unimportant but in hindsight we’d change. My son took French, a great language. Spanish would have been more helpful. When I was in middle school we had to take Cooking, Sewing, Metal Shop, Wood shop, Drafting, and more. I learned how to cook. I learned how to sew. I learned to use power tools. I learned that I didn’t have the skills to be an architect. Usable skills that helped me in life. It’s sad to me that kids today don’t have those same life skills as courses in school. It also tells us that we can still learn Spanish, typing, cooking, sewing, etc. It’s never too late to learn the things we want. And just because we missed an earlier window doesn’t mean we can’t revisit it in the future.
The song resonates with me because the letter ends up being something entirely different than what most of us think we would right. It’s not a lecture nor is directions to avoid the mistakes we think we made. It’s advice and guidance to enjoy the time in high school and all the time ahead until the age we are when we write the letter. It’s validation and suggestions to help appreciate all that we have. It’s a reminder that no matter how young or old we are, we have the ability to enjoy the moment for what it is and not be fixated on what we think it should be.
My life has had ups and down. Good times and bad. Challenges and rewards. When I stop, take a deep breath, and truly look at what I have in my life, it doesn’t matter what stage I am in, it’s a good life. It’s filled with meaning. I can appreciate my family and all the wonder in my life even when it isn’t perfect. And I don’t have to worry, I can let it be, and have a little faith, because I will end up looking at the same self in the mirror either way. I can choosee to enjoy the journey.
PS – Since the song has a PS, so does this blog. My last post was about friendship and what is a friend. One of my friends sent me this, which totally resonates with me. In fact, many of my friends and I have basically said the same thing to each other many times.
About 6 months ago I began subscribing to The Free Press. The articles have been great and each Sunday there is a focus by Douglas Murray called, “Things Worth Remembering” that in year one focused on poetry. I have to admit that for most of my life, poetry hasn’t been something that I really got. Yet getting this weekly article about a specific poem that really dug into the words began to inspire me. I went from glancing at it, to skimming it, to reading it and really enjoying it. The Free Press announced that year two of the column will now focus on great oratory of the ages.
I’ve also written about how behind I am with popular music. So, as I catch up on music, I thought I’d imitate the Free Press and use Sunday as a day to be inspired by music. Today’s song is from 2017, so I’m only 6-7 years behind the curve on this one. It’s by Scotty McCreary and called ‘Five More Minutes”. The words remind me of the past and inspire me for the future.
Eight years old, couple cane pole sittin’ down by the creek. Lines in the water, watchin’ those bobbers, seein’ that red sun sink. Mama’s on the porch yellin’, “Supper’s hot! Y’all come and get it!” We yelled, “Five more minutes.”
As a child, we played outside every day. Winter, Spring, Summer, or Fall, it didn’t matter how hot or cold it was, we were outside playing. The rules were when the streetlights came on, we had to head home. And every day, when the lights came on, we kept playing until at least one of our mothers who open the front door and yell at us to come inside for dinner. And just like in the song, we would groan and beg for just five more minutes. We never really wanted just five more minutes but that was what we asked for. As an adult, I look back on those days with such gratitude. We had no worries. We played all sorts of games outside with everybody in the neighborhood. The only worry we had was watching for the streetlights to turn on. There are many days that I wish for just five more minutes of that childhood without the pressures of life. As my children grew up, I wanted to give them to same type of experience. While the world had changed and technology meant they weren’t outside all afternoon like we were, I still wanted to give them the opportunity to ask for just five more minutes. I smile when it’s dinner time and my now young adult sons will ask for just a few more minutes to finish their game before they come to eat.
The joy of childhood is precious, and we lose it far too often. While as adults we have responsibilities beyond coming home for dinner when the streetlights turn on, we can find our own ways to do the things that bring us similar joy to we experienced in childhood. In the times we live in, bringing some childhood joy to our lives is critical to maintain our sanity.
At sixteen, it was 12:03, standin’ at her front door. And Katie’s dad said “Midnight,” but we needed just a little more. Yellow light flippin’ on and off interruptin’ that good night kissin’. We wanted five more minutes.
As a teen, it was no longer just come in for dinner when the streetlights came on. After dinner it was going out with friends. First it was just in the neighborhood and as we got older and could drive, it was midnight and later. It was exciting and thrilling. The night brought lots of opportunities, especially with dating. I remember many times sitting in the car or at the front door with the ‘goodnight kiss’, knowing that her dad was waiting inside to make sure she got home by curfew. And like the song, we always wanted just five more minutes. High school was all about the five more minutes of whatever we were doing, other than school. Dating, parties, youth group conventions, vacations – we always wanted just a little bit more.
When I look back, I find myself thinking about how to get that extra time with the things I love. Going to sporting events with my kids, the theater with my wife, vacations with my wife and with the family, concerts, spending holidays together, and so much more. I remember growing up hearing about how time was the most precious commodity we have and thinking how young I was and how much future was ahead. In my mid 50s, with 60 around the corner, I look back and appreciate the way I spent some of my time and think of the missed time that I can never get back. I treasure the time I got to spend with my grandparents and how integral all four of them were to me into my mid-20s and early 30s. I think of my great-grandma Rose and the time I spent with her. I think of my parents, my siblings (including my wife’s sisters and her family), my cousins, my in-laws, and my close friends.
As I look at the next two decades of my life, I want to focus on that extra five more minutes with the people I love and the people who matter to me. Time truly is the most precious possession we have, and I am grateful to be at a place in my life and with my career where I don’t have to sacrifice the time because of work, finances, or ego. I want to remember what it felt like being a teenager when I treasured every minute on a date, while being out with friends, and with everything that I did. Somehow when building a career and raising a family, these things get lost, and it is too easy to never recover them.
Time rolls by, the clock don’t stop. I wish I had a few more drops of the good stuff, the good times. Ah, but they just keep on flyin’. Right on by like it ain’t nothin’. I wish I had me a-, a pause button. Moments like those, Lord knows I’d hit it. And give myself five more minutes.
As a kid, time seemed to drag on. I remember being told that as I got older, the days would go slow and the years would go fast. I didn’t believe it nor did I truly understand it. I was young. Invincible. The future was mine and so much ahead of me. I remember turning 30 and thinking how old I was, because I grew up in shadows of the ‘don’t trust anybody over 30’ generation. I wanted a fast forward button, not a pause button. Fast forward through high school so I could be independent and move away to college. College was fun but I wanted to fast forward to building a career. Being single was fun but I wanted to fast forward to getting married and having children. Time was plentiful so why would I want to slow life down?
My fraternity brothers at one of our formals. Truly the best of times that went way too fast.
My friend Aric, who is like a brother to me, and his now wife Carol Ann. We joke that if it was ‘my turn’ when we met girls that she would have been my wife instead of his. It feels like yesterday but it was more than 30 years ago.
High school. Hard to believe this was almost 40 years ago. It feels like yesterday. We lost my friend Ellen (z’l) in the Penn Sweatshirt and sunglasses last year. Time goes too fast. I’d like 5 more minutes with my friend.
How naïve we are as young people. We think we are indestructible. We think we will live forever. We think nothing bad will happen. I would love to go back and use the pause button as my grandparents’ beach cottage every summer with extended family. I want to use the pause button on our family Thanksgiving touch football games and our family Passover whiffle ball games, especially when my grandparents would play in one way or another. I’d use the pause button when we celebrated both sets of grandparents 50th wedding anniversaries on the same cruise and when we celebrated my parents 50th wedding anniversary on another cruise. I’d hit the pause button on all the time I spent with my cousin Eric growing up together. I’d pause my wedding and honeymoon. I’d use it when my kids, Evan and Matthew, were little to get more of them as small children. When I look at the pictures that we have of them when they were both under 6, I wonder where the time went and how it went so quickly.
Family picture on my parents 50th anniversary cruise
My parents and their grandchildren as we celebrated their 50th anniversary.
The family in Curacao at the oldest synagogue in the western hemisphere. We had so much fun together celebrating my parents.
My cousin Eric and me at ‘the cottage’ cooking breakfast. We had amazing times together and at the cottage before his early passing. We had life plans that never happened.
While we don’t have a real life pause button, we do have the ability to treasure every moment and not miss them. I think of driving Evan to Tennessee to start graduate school and his college football coaching career and how I treasured every minute of the drive, moving him in, and shopping for the things he needed. I think of the times I went on college recruiting trips with Evan and when I took Matthew to visit and explore potential colleges. Going to theater with my wife and Matthew, sporting events with Evan and Matthew, and our special fantasy baseball ‘Get Together’ weekends with our ICBL brothers each year and smile as the memories are vivid and I enjoyed every minute. Recently I attended my friend Jeremy’s wedding and had the honor of officiating their marriage. Every minute of the time we all spent together was special and treasured. We have the ability to step back, slow down, and appreciate the gifts we have in our life. Too often, we look back and realize ‘we missed it’. I made the decision when my dad died that I wasn’t going to miss anything any longer. It was the experience that taught me the importance of time and how to treasure it. To live life as if there was a pause button so I appreciate all the moments.
Jeremy and me before the wedding. A memory I will never forget.
Evan, Matthew and me on the field before the game at Ben Hill Griffin Stadium during a recruiting vist to UF.
Alison, Matthew, Carla, and me at the Orlando Ballet’s performance of the Nutcracker. These are highlights we take advantage of while we can.
At eighteen, turned my helmet in and walked to the fifty-yard line. Just the coach and me after we lost eighteen to nine. And I cried, “Man, next time to get in here, I’ll have to buy a ticket. Can’t you give me five more minutes?”
My oldest son Evan played high school football and started all four years. We went to football camps together his last two years of high school. As a family, we didn’t miss games and the opportunity to watch him play. I’ll never forget his last high school football game as we walked the field arm in arm, as he was honored on senior night. I’ll never forget the look on his face after the game, a big win, and the connection he had with his coach. I remember the feeling I had at that moment, knowing I would never watch him play high school football again and that not only was his life changing, but mine was as well. We stayed on the field after the game for a long time to soak up every minute we could. And I remember thinking as we walked off the field how I wish I could have had just a little more time, just five more minutes, of that experience as it ended forever. When he told me that he had decided not to continue playing college football and instead wanted to start his coaching career early, while he was in college, I was devastated. He was fine with his decision and didn’t regret ending one stage and moving onto the next step in his career. I wasn’t ready. I was looking forward to watching him play, to celebrating his achievements, and struggled with the way it was changing my life. I was still able to watch him coach at UCF and then in high school and with the semi-pro Orlando law enforcement/first responders’ team. It was still an awesome experience, but a very different one. As he started his professional career coaching college football, it was an incredible experience watching him coach.
Evan and Coach Carter sharing emotion after his final high school game.
Evan and Coach Carter. A great mentor
Evan tackling as a freshman. His first tackle ever was NBA star Dejounte Murray.
Family picture on the field after his freshman season
Evan played in the band at halftime 3 of his 4 years of varsity football. This was a classic – we need more cowbell! Matthew is in the back as they played in the band together.
Evan in uniform at UCF
Evan in the locker room before the game
Evan with his conference championship ring. A forever treasure.
Evan snapping in practice. He was a great long snapper.
Evan with the UCF conference championship trophy. What a memoryEvan as the head coach of the Orlando Guardians of the National Public Safety Football League. They played teams like FDNY and the Chicago Fire Department.
Watching Matthew, my younger son, graduate high school was another seminal moment. I would now only have kids in college. Attending his graduation, Magna Cum Laude, from Seminole State, was an incredible experience. When he graduates UCF in another year, I will no longer have any kids in college. It’s another major life transition and when he moves out of the house as well, I know I will want 5 more minutes of kids living in my house. It’s another reminder of how precious time is and how important it is not to waste the time we have.
Matthew graduation night – he graduated Magna Cum Laude, truly impressive.
I was invited to the White House Hanukkah party in 2022. Matthew came with me and we had a great time. Another special moment we will both remember forever.
At eighty-six, my grandpa said, “There’s angels in the room.” All the family gathered ‘round, knew the time was comin’ soon. With so much left to say I prayed, “Lord, I ain’t finished. Just give us five more minutes.”
My dad died on September 6, 2022. I had gotten him moved to Advent Health about three weeks prior and my mom moved in with us while he was in the hospital. I visited him every day while he was in the hospital and got to spend quality time with my mom every morning and evening. Those three weeks are precious to me, both for the time I spent with my dad and the time I spent with my mom. When I think of them, I tear up, because they were some of the most meaningful days of my life. I look back at some of the pictures from those three weeks and smile with a mixture of happiness and sadness. My dad eating real food I had delivered when he got out of ICU into a private room – I can still hear him talking about how good it was because the hospital food was so bad. The picture of him and my mom walking hand in hand in the hospital hallway. They were married for 56 years and together for 65+. The last picture I took of my dad, lying in his bed, with a sweet smile on his face. I remember kissing him goodnight, telling him I loved him and would see him in the morning. My mom got the call from the hospital around 1:30 am that morning that he had died. We went to the hospital together and sat with him, just the three of us, while we waited until it was not too early to call my brother and my sister as well as my Aunt Sheila, his sister. Writing about it brings tears to my eyes once again.
When I look at this picture, I can hear my dad’s voice talking about how good the food was and how much he enjoyed it. I’m forever grateful for the opportunity I had the last 3 weeks of his life.
My mom and dad walking the hospital hallway. So many special moments during those 3 weeks that I will treasure forever.
The last picture I took of my dad. He looked so sweet and peaceful. I gave him a kiss, told him I loved him and that I’d see him the next morning. He died a few hours later. Every time I look at this picture it brings tears to my eyes. How I wish I could have 5 more minutes.
As we sat in the room with him after he had died, I remember wishing I just had one more chance to talk with him, to tell him again how much I loved him, to be able to ask his advice and hear his wisdom and knowing that would never be possible. I wanted those five more minutes. I have no regrets with my dad, I just wanted more. I wanted those five more minutes. And today, there are plenty of times when I want to pick up the phone and call him, talk for five minutes, and pick his brain and get his advice. Once again, it’s an example of the precious nature of time.
I choose to invest my time with my family. With my sons, my wife, my mom, siblings and siblings-in-law. I want to do my part to ensure that when the time comes, my children have no regrets. They don’t wish they had just done something more with me. They don’t regret missing out spending time together.
Celebrating my mom’s birthday with the family. I don’t miss these opportunities.
The family celebrating Alison’s 50th birthday
Dancing with my mom at a family Bar Mitzvah.
I think of the lost time with my family members who died too young. My Uncle Joe. My cousins Eric and Todd. I think of the time missed with my friends who have died in the past few years and how they won’t be around any longer. I always think of my dad, who died in September 2022, and who I miss daily. We have no guarantees in life, and we get to choose our priorities. I’ve reached a place in my life where my priorities have shifted. It’s far more rewarding to do what I can to minimize the impact of wanting those five more minutes at the end.
Yeah, sometimes this ol’ life will leave you wishin’. That you had five more minutes. Five more minutes.
Priorities are the key. We live in a culture that values money, status, and titles. We often sacrifice things like time with family and friends in our effort to make money, obtain a better title, or because our identity is tied to our job. In the end, like the song says, those priorities “will leave you wishin’ that you had five more minutes.” Our society puts pressure on us to meet their priorities. Over the past 18 months, since my dad got sick and then died, I have been reviewing my priorities. Asking myself what is really important. What do I really value? It’s been a complete reset in many areas.
October 7th only highlighted this even more. I have seen the 47-minute Hamas video and it’s horrifying. I have four friends who had family members taken hostage. Of the 6 hostages, 4 have been released. There are still 2 held by Hamas, now for 126 days. I have friends who lost family members at the music festival. Friends who lost family serving in the IDF. Friends who are serving or have children currently serving in the IDF, worried every day about their safety. I wear my dogtags every day. My Magen David (star of David) every day. I put a new piece of masking tape on my shirt, over my heart, every day, updating the number of days the hostages have been kept.
Besides being a great song, Five More Minutes teaches an important lesson. It reminds us that in the end, all we really want is more time. No matter how much money we may have, no matter how much power and influence we may have, no matter what our titles are or what we have accomplished in our careers, the one thing we all want is just five more minutes. At the end of the day, we have the choice to set our priorities. I choose to do what I can to want, but not need, those five more minutes.
It’s the last day of 2023 – Happy New Year! (Happy Sylvester for those who know). My 13 year old dog Bella woke me up early to eat her breakfast and go outside. After taking care of her needs and brewing a pot of coffee, I sat down and turned on the television. One of my favorite movies, Fast Times at Ridgemont High, was on, so I had to watch it. It immediately brought back memories.
Fast Times chronicles high school in the early 80’s. It’s the story of my adolescence. At different times I can relate with Brad, Spicoli, Rat, and Damone. We knew who was Linda, who was Stacy, and who was Lisa. Certainly we all had a teacher like Mr. Hand. The hair, clothes, language, teachers, cars, and situations bring me right back to being in high school. The friends and the fun we had, all while looking forward to our amazing futures in college, with careers, and the unlimited opportunities ahead of us. It was the 1980s, so capitalism was king. Everybody believed they would become incredibly successful and wealthy. We had no limits ahead of us.
Hanging out in somebody’s basement. Life was good and the future was bright for all of us.
It’s hard to believe that was about 40 years ago. As I think back over the past approximately 40 years, I wonder where the time has gone. I still feel like that 15–17-year-old high school kid most of the time, even though my own children are much older than that. I still feel like I have that amazing future in front of me even though I also recognize that nearly 2/3 of my life is now behind me.
Lately I have been thinking a lot about those times. I attended two high schools. My freshman and sophomore year were at Susquehanna in Harrisburg, PA. Then we moved to the Philadelphia area where I finished high school at Upper Dublin. My Susquehanna friends were friends from elementary, middle, and high school where we had a long history of growing up together. My friends from Upper Dublin were forged from the power of the last two years of high school and coming of age together. I moved to Florida in 1992 and lost contact with many of them until social media gave us the opportunity to reconnect many years later.
My high school classmates have had lives that cross the entire spectrum. Unfortunately, some died tragic deaths at a young age. I think of them and what they missed in life often, grateful for my own life experiences. Some of them have been wildly financially successful, earning generational wealth. Most of us have lived lives filled with meaning, getting through the ups and downs that life brings us. We have faced challenges and successes, often with dignity and sometimes without. Yet here we are, about to enter 2024, just like we entered our senior year of high school back in 1984. Looking forward to what life brings us. I went back and found some pictures of us. Some aged well and some, well, let’s say they just aged.
Half of our graduating class. Try to find me – it definitely didn’t age well.
The other half of our class.
A group of us got to spend a month in England in November 1984.Feel free to write about my timeless look in the comments.
One of our favorite pictures from England as we got to dress in ancestral clothes
A group of us before prom. Perfectly 1980s
I was active in BBYO – most in this picture still keep in touch today.
Toga parties were the thing back then
One of my dear friends died of breast cancer this year. She was a few months older than me, we graduated high school together, and kept in touch through the years. Our lives followed similar paths. Careers, marriage, children, family. Meaningful lives that we could be proud of. And then cancer struck. She beat it once, but it came back and won the second time. A .500 average in baseball would mean a unanimous Hall of Fame career. A sad outcome in life. We spoke a few months before her passing and while there seemed to be a resignation in her voice, she remained hopeful for the future. When I think of her, I am always shocked that she is really gone and we won’t be able to share pictures, laughs, and the joy of our children’s accomplishments. We won’t be able to reminisce about ‘the good old days’ and laugh out loud at how ridiculous we were.
My dad died in 2022. A few months ago, my mom told me a story that she had just recently heard from the person who was in the ambulance with him as he was transferred from a hospital in Tampa to Advent Health in Orlando. He told this person that he wasn’t afraid of dying. He just was sad about all that he would miss. I think about his wisdom and insight all the time since my mom shared that story with me. And how much he has missed in just over a year. And how much he will miss and how much we miss him. It brings tears to my eyes every single time.
My dad, Evan and me on the field at Ben Hill Griffin stadium before a game during Evan’s football recruiting. One of my treasured memories as I watched my dad kvell over his grandson.
It reminds me that time is our most precious commodity and the only thing we can’t get back. In 2013 when our moving truck caught fire and burned and we lost our material possessions, so many people reached out because of the loss. Yet while we were saddened to have lost things that we loved; they were all replaceable. And in my ‘proof God exists’ moment, the only things that weren’t lost in the moving fire were the things that couldn’t be replaced with any amount of money. Things that came from our grandparents. Our ketubah (Jewish marriage certificate). Picture albums from my bar mitzvah, from our wedding, from when the kids were babies. We can make more money, get another car, buy a different house or move to a different apartment, get new clothes, furniture, or other material things. What we can’t get back is time.
The smell of smoke and burned things is fresh for me when I look at these picturesmore than 10 years later.
So, as we end 2023 and begin 2024, I hope this is a year focused on people. On friends and loved ones. I have enjoyed reconnecting with my high school friends and seeing what their lives are like. Enjoying their work and life accomplishments. Seeing pictures of their grandchildren (I’m far too young to have grandchildren). Watching their children graduate college, get married, have B’nai mitzvahs, and their major career changes. Sharing stories both online and in person with each other, reminding ourselves of these special time that while long gone feel like yesterday. I appreciate these friendships more every day and how we are able to help each other or our friends and families just because we want to and are able to.
Just a few weeks ago, somehow the topic of a party I threw in early 1983 came up. The comments made me laugh as the memories of that crazy night came back. And of course, the next morning when I was busted by my parents and the punishment that came afterwards. Yet, 40 years later, I don’t regret it and love the memories we all share.
As we think about our goals for the new year, I urge you to think about the ones that are truly important. They are not going to put that you ‘worked 50 hours a week’ on your tombstone. Nobody in their eulogy is going to celebrate that you ingnored your friends and family to work those extra hours. You will be celebrated for the things that you showed up to, not the things you missed to earn money. Think about the friendships from years ago and from today. Think about what is really priceless and what is just transactional. Invest your time and energy in the right place for an unbelievable return. As I do that, I wanted to share some pictures from this past year that re priceless to me. Because family and community is what is truly priceless to me.
My mom, brother, sister and me the day before my dad’s unveiling.
At the Orlando ballet with my son Matthew, his girlfriend Carla, and my wife Alison
Matthew and me at the Jaguars game – special father son time
Matthew and me watching my son Evan coach in the championship game for Tusculum College
Evan on the field before the conference championship game. Matthew and I are in the stands watching and cheering on Tusculum.
Matthew, Carla and me at the theater. Usually it’s Alison but when she has to work, Carla takes her place
Alison and me on vacation in Bali
Evan in his happy place – coaching college football. I’m so grateful he found his passion and is pursuing it.
Traveling to DC with a group from Orlando to join the 300,000 people who rallied in support of Israel after the horrors Hamas committed on October 7, 2023. I’m proud to be one of the people who were there.
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