One of my college profs once told a story I’ve never forgotten. A teacher asked a student to summarize the meaning of life. His first attempt ran 10 pages. Too long. He cut it in half. Still too long. Finally, in frustration, the student wrote: “Man is born. He suffers. He dies.” The teacher gave him an A.

I never bought that cynical summary. For me, life has always been richer, more complicated, and somehow never quite finished. Maybe that’s why I keep writing. Here’s my version so far—not complete, but enough for today.

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Roots in New York
I was four when my father died. My mother was left with two boys and very little money. She insisted we live in safe neighborhoods with good schools, even if it meant being rent-poor and under constant threat of possible eviction. She became my protector, teacher, and guide.

My older brother? Not a mentor.  More a tormentor. By ten, he was out of the house. By twenty-five, I cut off all contact for good. Sometimes survival means knowing when to cut your losses. Out of those years, I learned resilience and what love looks like when resources are scarce.

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Finding Independence
I was lucky.  Bayside High School was excellent. From there I went to Queens College and then Brooklyn College. City schools meant tuition I could afford, and professors who pushed me to think. At Brooklyn College I earned not only a degree but also a commission through AFROTC.

Suddenly, the boy who once feared eviction had a uniform, a paycheck, and a future. Education and opportunity gave me the independence my family life never could.

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Becoming a Family Man
Leaving the great metropolis of New York City behind, I reported for duty at James Connally AFB in Waco, Texas, bought my first car (having had my well-earned DL shipped from NY), and began my rewarding career in the USAF. That was my first real taste of life outside the city, and the beginning of a career that would keep me moving for decades.

As a navigator, I pushed more than 65 pins into maps all over the globe. Each mission carried me farther from that little apartment in Queens, and each return home reminded me what I was building. The real highlight of all those travels wasn’t the places I’ve seen, but the people waiting at home. In Charleston, I met and married Marjorie, the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.

Together we raised three children—Christine, Jim, and Jeffrey—the greatest joy of my life. The Air Force gave me more than a career. It gave me a family and a purpose that carried me through decades of service.

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Second Acts
After 30 years in uniform, I retired from the Air Force and found a second act at Trident Technical College. For ten years I taught and ran programs, learning a different kind of culture: academia instead of military command.

This stage wasn’t about rank or promotion. It was about passing along what I’d learned, and giving back to the students I taught, the companies I advised, and the peers I mentored.

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Health and Survival
The 2000s brought challenges I never saw coming: colon cancer, a heart attack, and critical heart failure. Three times I came close to St. Peter’s gate, and three times I was sent back.

I now live “better electrically” with a pacemaker/defibrillator and enough artificial plumbing to keep me going. It’s a reminder that life is a gift, not a guarantee, and sometimes stubbornness is as important as faith.

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Legacy and Love
Kids grown. Five grandkids. Two great-grands. I helped raise one of them, and it gave me pride I didn’t expect in later years.

Marjorie built her own business as an “interior arranger.” Even as the years went on and mobility became more of a challenge, she kept at it. Toward the end of her career, she needed plenty of help moving things around, but she never stopped creating beauty in people’s homes. Her resilience humbles me to this day.

Now we’ve slowed down. We spend our time in and around Charleston, enjoying routines, friends, and visitors. There’s peace in that. Gratitude too, not just for surviving, but for the privilege of watching love multiply.

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That old professor’s student wrote: “Born. Suffer. Die.” Too short. Too cynical.

Mine looks more like: Born, loved, challenged, blessed, grateful. 

Not quite Enuf… but it will do for today.