2009 Israel Ride (Part Two)

Well the ride is over and what a ride it was. Challenging both physically and emotionally, yet rewarding in incalculable ways. I am still - and will I'm sure continue for many days, weeks, and months - processing the trip and what it has meant for me as part of my healing, but here's a little of what the final two days of riding had in store for us....


Day 4 - Shabbat at Mitzpe Ramon

We spent a well deserved day of rest at Mitzpe Ramon, which was ended with havdalah service at the edge of the maktesh. Even though the sky wasn't as clear as one would have hoped, it was an awe inspiring sight to watch the sun set over the expanse of the maktesh and see the desert around us change in color.



Before havdalah began, people were invited to share thoughts of theirs from the three days of riding or anything else that was on their mind. While I had talked about Karen and James with several people on the ride individually, I had been hesitant to bring it up in front of the group because I didn't want to spoil the festive mood that was prevalent on the ride. However, as we sat there reflecting on the past days I felt moved to open my mouth. I choked the words out to the group, telling the story I've told so many times in the past months. It was as tough as it ever was to talk about it, but I'm glad I did. I was immediately embraced by several people and over the remaining days so many more - if not every rider and crew member.


Day 5 - Mitzpe Ramon to Kibbutz Ketura (57 miles)

The day of riding began with a group photo from the top of the maktesh.



After we were done, the ride crew spaced our start to allow for intervals between riders on the downhill. Needless to say that in some cases, me included, those spaces quickly evaporated. How could I have not let myself enjoy the fun of a long downhill with several exciting switchbacks? It was a great way to begin the day!

After a short rest at the bottom to allow all the riders to re-group, we started off across the maktesh. The weather stayed a bit overcast, which helped keep the temperature down somewhat throughout the day.

The riding day had us going through some amazing terrain as we headed deeper into the Negev and the stark bareness of the terrain became increasingly wonderful to see. In addition to the monster downhill to begin the day, we rode along rolling hills -- giving us additional downhills, many coming with warning signs of their steepness.



But the cautions of steep grades were not the only signs we began encountering. Since much of the Negev is used for military training purpose, there was ample warnings against leaving the road and venturing anywhere beyond.



We made sure to keep on the safe side of the signs.



The day ended as it started with a great, long, and fast downhill into the Arva Valley. Across the valley were the hills of Jordan, obscured by the unusually hazy weather.



As great of a downhill as it was, some of us - me included - would be climbing it the following morning to begin the final day of riding. The evening, however, was devoted to rest and relaxation as we were hosted by Kibbutz Ketura, home of the Arva Institute. The hospitality shown by the kibbutz was exceptional. After a quick dip and lounging by the pool with a cold Goldstar beer, we attended a outside dinner of exceptional food, drink, and warm spirits. It almost made me forget about the morning's uphill.


Day 5 - Kibbutz Ketura to Eilat

As I said, the killer 4.8 mile downhill we had to end the day before was to be a 4.8 mile uphill to start the final day of riding. The option was given for us to be bussed to the top of the hill and start riding from there, but I and 9 other "meshugim" riders opted to get up by our own power. I felt it was a challenge, like so many others I've been facing in these months, that I needed to at least try to do and felt confident I would succeed. The route snaked up the cliff side in a series of switch-backs that were so much fun riding down but so much not on the way up.





As hard as the climb was it actually ended up being quite doable and we made it from the kibbutz to the summit in about 40 minutes and were at the first pit stop (where the main group of riders started) in just under an hour. We made great time, but it was the last we'd make in the day.

After we resumed the ride, we were almost immediately hit with a headwind that had to be 30+ miles an hour. Over the next 15 kilometers or so, we struggled to make way averaging little more than 5 - 7 MPH. At one point I got off the bike for a call of nature break, as well as to stop the incessant howl of the wind in my ears, and could barely keep from being blown over by holding onto a sign post. It was some of the worst wind I've ever encountered on my bike or off.

We made it to the next rest stop when the wind added a special twist by kicking up dust and sand. For the next twenty minutes we huddled behind what shelter we could, in this case bushes and shrubs, preparing ourselves to head out onto the road. Just as the lead rider with us announced that we should prepare to get riding again, vans showed up carrying members of the main group who had departed the rest stop about ten minutes before we arrived. They had made it about 10 kilometers down the road when the decision was made to return them to the rest stop because of the increasingly deteriorating and hazardous conditions. Eventually the entire group was reassembled at the rest stop and we were loaded on buses to skip ahead on the route. Along the way, however, we stopped at a point where the boarder with Egypt comes right up to the roadside. The guard tower in the distance is Egyptian and the barbed-wire fence next to me is the actual boarder.



From the overlook we continued by bus to the top of the final downhill into Eilat and it was determined by ride leaders that conditions had improved sufficiently enough for us to ride it. And what a ride it was. The downhill, like so many before, was fast with great switch-backs and curves, but most amazing of all was the view of the Red Sea below us. Needless to say, we were all smiles as we coasted toward the ride's end.



Once at the bottom of the descent the group came together for the final ride down the beach and to our hotel.



I feel like I keep repeating myself, but it was an amazing ride. In the past I've done other multi-day rides, but this one was not only better organized and supported than any I've done in the past, but was so emotionally powerful and through such beautiful terrain as to be incomparable. Not only that, but due to its size - only about 35 riders - it was easy to meet everyone and make new friends. As I said in my first post, I had come on the ride looking forward to the solitude of riding through the desert but now realize that the true reason for my riding was to meet new friends. It has also been a realization for me that despite what has happened and the losses I've suffered, that I am able - and need to for my sake and Karen's - to continue experiencing life and making new memories. This might sound obvious of a statement, but I assure you it is not something I could even comprehend a few short months ago. Now, even as I continue to miss her nearly every waking moment of my days, I understand that I must continue my life however difficult a concept and taks that may be.

Thank you all once again for your support in making it possible for me to have done this.

2009 Israel Ride (Part One)

Three days of riding down and two to go. Today we're spending Shabbat in Mitzpe Ramon and I finally have a reliable internet connection, as well as the energy, to writ a little something about the ride. I will post something about the pre-ride visit and acitivities soon. But before I get into what has been going on with the ride, I want to thank everyone who supported me and allowed for me to be in the wonderful place, doing this amazing adventure.

Day 1 – Tel Aviv to Ashkelon (48 miles)

Set for the first day of riding

On day one, we set off from Tel Aviv bound for the seaside city of Ashkelon. It was Yom Haatzmaut (Israel Independence Day) so the city was very quite as the shofar was sounded to start the ride. We cycled through the city passing the home of David Ben Gurion, the first Prime Minister of Israel, and Kikar Rabin, the site were Yitzhak Rabin was assassinated on November 4, 1995, after attending a peace rally in support of the Oslo Accords. From there we passed the site where Tel Aviv was founded in 1909, which sits only yards away from the building where Israel declared its independence on May 14, 1948.

Our course then took us to the sea side just north of Jaffa for our first rest stop – even though we had biked a relatively short distance. We continued along the coast for a while before heading in-land. The temperature change could be felt, but it was nothing compared to what was to come. We arrived later in the day in Ashkelon, biking past hundreds, if not thousands, of Israelis having bar-b-ques in every park or strip of grass in celebration of Independence Day.

In the evening we were able to rest our weary bodies with the view of the sun setting over the Mediterranean Sea.


Day 2 – Ashkelon to Mashabei Sade (72 miles)

After a great breakfast at the Ashkelon Holiday Inn – yes, I used great breakfast referring to a Holiday Inn – we set off for day two. Unlike day one, there was no stop and go start to get our legs warmed up and we were off on the open road right away. We pulled into a rest stop at a reservoir, which provided a view of Gaza in the near distance. In fact we were about equal distance (or so I was told) from the Israeli town of Sderot, the target of many of the rockets, and the Gaza border. Standing at such a location it was once again overwhelming evident how small of a country and area is at the center of the Israel-Palestinian problems.


Gaza is barely visible in the right

Before going on with the ride itself, I want to make a mention about how great the support and crew of this ride is. I think most of you know that I rode in two AIDS rides while I was living in DC and thought those were well run, but they have nothing compared to what this crew does. Not only do they ride with us, both in cars and on bikes, but every 10 to 15 miles there is a rest stop or pit stop where we can re-fill water bottles, grab a few dates or power bars, and sit in the shade for a few minutes - and if there isn't natural shade, which is becoming more and more rare, they erect something to provide it. There is also sunblock at about every turn, which we've all been lathering on constantly. Without these volunteers there is no way any of us could survive even half a day of riding. Thank you is not nearly sufficient enough.

We left the rest stop and headed toward the northern Negev. The route climbed slightly, but more noticeable was the gradual - and later dramatic - change of climate from the fertile fields of the western Negev, fed by the moisture of the Mediterranean (as well as the treated waste water of the surrounding communities), to the dry desert of the northern Negev. As dry as we were finding the air we were biking through, it was just a harbinger of the next day, and from what we are expecting in the final two days.

In the evening we stayed at Kibbutz Mashabei Sade. There was something nice about putting my head back down on a kibbutz, even one so dramatically different than Beit Nir, where I plan to spend a couple of days after the ride. The meal was just as I would have expected from a kibbutz, a couple of meat dishes and salads, salads, salads. Most importantly was it was tasty and filling.

Day Three - Mashabei Sade - Mitzpe Ramon (45 miles plus 10 off-road)

The alarm went off again at 5:30 a.m. -- not my preferred time wake up normally -- and we were back on the road to the sound of the shofar. This morning, however, there was no large breakfast options to send us on the way but rather a snack with the breakfast down the road at our first rest stop at Sde Boker, 16 miles away. The terrain really began to change and we started hitting the first real uphills.

We rode into Sde Boker to find a breakfast spread set out by our crew worthy of any hotel we've been to yet. Sde Boker is the kibbutz where David Ben Gurion resigned as Prime Minister to live and at which both he and his wife were eventually buried.


Ben Gurion's grave

An interesting thing about his grave is that there are three dates on it: his birthday, the date of his death, and the date he made aliyah. The view from his grave site is truly spectacular, looking out over the vast expanse of the Negev, some of which were were about to mountain bike through to visit the oasis of Ein Akev.

Now I've been on a mountain bike a few times and even road them off-road a bit, but this was the best mountain biking I've ever done. Maybe not nearly the most technical or challenging course/route out there but it was certainly the most difficult I've ever been on before. There were some steep declines, loads of jagged rocks as well as fine gravel and sand (which I found was the most difficult things to ride through), and always the the heat of the desert.



But it was worth it for the amazing oasis formed by the spring at Ein Akev. Based on the reactions of those who did go into the frigid water, I chose to keep out of the pool.



After the mountain biking excursion, we had a nice lunch back near the Ben Gurion grave site before switching back to our road bikes for the 25, or so, more miles to Mitzpe Ramon. 25 miles isn't too far, except when those are spread across three fairly nice climbs - with corresponding downhills I will add. The day ended with the biggest surprise of them all, the steepest, but thankfully shortest, climb to the hotel itself. It came at me out of no where on the final turn, but it marked the end.

We spent Shabbat at Mitzpe Ramon, which sits on the edge of the Maktesh Ramon. While often and incorrectly referred to as a crater or canyon, the Maktesh is a unique geologic occurrence which offers some positively spectacular views. Unfortunately its grandeur simply can not be captured in a photograph, but here is a little taste of what it is like....








And all around the Maktesh, and even in the town, are Ibexes. These ancestors of the modern day domesticated goats are a protected species in Israel and have returned from the brink of extinction in the decades since the passage of laws prohibiting their hunting for any reason.




Tomorrow we ride down and through the Maktesh so I will cut this update off a little short to ensure I get sufficient rest for the day. I know I keep saying it, but this is a wonderful experience and I can't thank everyone who made it possible - from my donors to the staff and crew of the ride itself - for me to do it. And while when I was getting ready to do the ride I kept talking about the need and desire for me to spend some time alone on the bike with my thoughts in the desert, I have now begun to realize that another - perhaps more important reason for the ride - was for me to have the opportunity to meet and make new friends, which has happened many times over.

Shavua tov.

Karens' Bench on Google Maps

Here's a map marking the exact location of the bench -


View Karen's Bench in a larger map

Prospect Park bench and angels again?

Today I got an email from the Prospect Park Alliance to let me know that the plaque on the bench adopted in memory of Karen and James had been installed. I still want and plan to have of a small-ish ceremony to commemorate it, but with the last minute word it would be hard, if not impossible, to arrange for it to happen before I left for Israel on Monday. But I wanted to see it, so tonight I went with my mother for a first visit.

For those of you in New York, you know what a beautiful day it was and the park was very crowded with people enjoy the perfect spring weather. It was the right kind of day to see it. There was a vibrancy and energy in the park and I'm glad I went. I had wanted to take a picture of the entire bench showing where it is located, but there was someone sitting at the other end of it and I didn't think it proper to impose on him to be in the picture or ask him to move. Here, however, is a close up snap shot of the plaque itself:



I will take another picture when I go back tomorrow or Sunday, but as you can see the plaque is very nice and I think it is a touching tribute to them both. In addition, the view from sitting on the bench is quintessential Prospect Park, made even more perfect by the blossoms on the trees:



My mom and I sat for a little while talking. It was a peaceful way to end a long week and to think about the upcoming trip to Israel. On the Long Meadow in front of us were all sorts of people out enjoying the weather, the road was busy with bikers and runners, and the paths crowded with dog walkers and pedestrians. Which is why what happened when we left was so shocking to both of us.

There is path from where the bench is to the Garfield Place entrance that we were following. It is a "herd" path, but well worn by people getting to and from the Long Meadow. As we were walking I looked down and noticed a folded up bill, almost like a piece of origami. I bent down in mid-sentence and picked it up. How could the same thing happen again? I've been walking in Prospect Park more times than I can count since Karen's death and the time I "found" the $120 (read my earlier post, "Angels in the Architecture," if you don't know what I'm talking about here) but in all those other visits and walks throughout the park I haven't found even a single coin. Now, this day, when the plaque was installed and what would have been our eight month wedding anniversary, there is money once again in my path in Prospect Park. Not to mention that countless other people must have walked right past it, but I for some reason spotted it.

My mom and I, just as I was with Jon and Sharon on the other day, looked at each other in momentary stunned silence. Karen letting me know she is keeping an eye on me? How could we not think that. Was I once again looking for "angels in the architecture"? Perhaps. But when I unfolded and looked at the bill closer my mind was all but made up. The serial number is 11000163. An 11 separated from a 16 by three zeros. 11/16, November 16, the date Karen died. I am the one writing this and even I don't believe it myself. Between this and the others things that happened what else is one to believe? This is now WAY beyond coincidences. There is no mistaking that she is with me and letting me know she is looking out for me. I feel it on a day-by-day basis, but things like this just confirm it.

* * *

For anyone in Brooklyn, or planning on being, the bench is located along the path that circles the Long Meadow near the Garfield Place entrance. To find it, enter through the Garfield Place entrance, cross the road and follow the "herd path" to toward the Long Meadow. There will be three benches just to your right on the paved path, it is the leftmost one if you're looking at them from the path. I don't know how to mark the benches, but here is a map of its location (the three benches are actually visible as little rectangles seeming to protrude to the left of the path):


View Larger Map

Please let me know if you want further detail on how to locate the bench. I hope you you do visit it will provide some measure of comfort and I will also be posting details on whatever ceremony ends up being planned for it when I'm back in May.

HAZON Bike Ride

I leave for Israel in less than a week and the bike ride begins in two weeks. Mentally I am prepared and looking forward to the trip, but physically I wish I had done a little more training. I suppose I am hoping that optimism will supplement whatever deficiencies I have in my physical preparation. We shall see.

I wanted to thank everyone who contributed and helped me exceed my fundraising goal. It was actually quite remarkable how quickly I met the required minimum and how donations continued to register even after that benchmark was reached and long after my single fundraising email was sent. I remain in awe not only from the response of my family and friends, but of the number of donations from friends of friends, many of whom I've never met, and even strangers or people I've only had brief interaction with until now. You have humbled and honored me.

Many people have been asking me about the ride itself so I thought I would pass along the information and details I've recently gotten from the organizers.

First of all, the ride will be from Tel Aviv to Eilat with a total riding distance of about 320 miles over four days. The course departs from Tel Aviv along the coast, then heads inland through Rishon LeTsiyon and Kiryat Malaki before arriving back on the coast at Ashkelon for our first night. The second day we travel along the edge of Gaza until about 10 miles from the Egypt boarder before heading south-east to our second night stop at Mashabim. From Mashabim is it almost due south to Mitzpe Ramon, then to Ketura, before the final day into Eilat. You can see a complete map of the route by clicking here.

Unfortunately, the ride is not all downhill as I was led to beleive. In fact there are a couple significant climbs and even a couple whose grades are in the 4-6% range, as you can see on this elevation profile:



As challenging as hills are, they have never really concerned me too much. I would much prefer a day of hill climbing to riding into a head wind any time, since you get the pay off a downhill after the climb and there seems to be a bunch of nice ones including the final ride into Eilat.

So once again, thank you all for your donations and support in making it possible to go on the trip. To reiterate what I said in my fundraising email, my time in Israel back in 1994 proved amazingly beneficial at a time of decision and self doubt in my young life. I fervently believe that the person I am and the person Karen fell in love with was formed in large part by the seeds sowed there. This has been a devastating past five months, with the last couple weeks being especially so. The chance to engage in the contemplative and self-healing activity of bike riding in a place of such history and emotional significance, I hope, will provide some much needed restorative energy.

Lastly, while I've already exceeded my fundraising goal I welcome anyone who still wishes to make a donation to do so by following this link.

Thank you all once again.

My Passover plagues

I don't think I appreciated how difficult Passover was going to be. Karen and I never celebrated the holiday together and she never joined me at the Seder table. Last year she traveled to Turkey on a trip we booked just as we started to date, so while I missed her being there in 2008 I understood. After all, we both had lives before we re-met one another and there was no reason for her to change her plans just as there was no reason for me to change my Thanksgiving plans of 2007 that had me flying from The Hague to Los Angeles to spend the holiday with friends there.

Anyway, so as this year's Passover began to creep closer I really didn't think much of it. I thought it would be sad not to have her at the table, just as it has been sad all these Shabbats since she died. How wrong could I have been.

These past days have been some of the hardest for me. I am constantly feeling like I am on the edge of breaking down. The reality that I was forgetting was not that my sadness would come from the memory of Karen not being there, but from the prospective loss of her and James from this Passover and all those future ones.

Passover is a family holiday. It is not celebrated in the temple but rather in some one's home surround by loved ones. Many of fondest and most vibrant memories of childhood come from the Seders I attended. The past few week or two I've been feeling anxious and a little different, but I kept attributing it to my having to get re-acclimated to work and as well as preparing for my trip to Israel. It wasn't until the day of the first Seder that the weight of what was happening began to hit me.

I came home from work intending to change out of my work clothes quickly before heading over to my brother's. As soon as I closed the door to my apartment everything changed. I literally felt the walls close in on me. I stood in the kitchen, staring at the pictures of Karen and me that cover the refrigerator, and began to shake. I realized that this Seder was supposed to be the first on with MY family. It was supposed not only to be the first one where Karen would sit next to me, but also the first one where James would be. It shook me. Devastated me. Where had everything gone? What had happened to the life I thought I had. The life I was supposed to be enjoying.

My knees gave way and I'm not too proud to say that I spent several minutes on the cold tile floor of my kitchen. It couldn't be like this, I thought. The world bears no resemblance to what it did before. I've heard people say this is so unfair, if not the most unfair thing that could happen. Fair. That is a word no longer in my vocabulary. Just and unjust each have also faded from my sense of reality. Replaced by nothing. A void yet, if ever, to be filled.

I slowly regained my legs and stood. It seems I am constantly dipping into the well of strength that supported me when I came back to our apartment for the first time, when I stood up at her funeral, when I added my two shovel fulls of earth to the grave (one for her and one for James), when I said Kaddish the first time, the second time, the third time, the sixty-seven some odd time and counting, when I went back to work, when I.....but how much more is there in that well? I felt I might have reached the bottom. Slowly I dressed. I knew I needed to do it, that for Karen, for James, and for me, I had to go to the Seder.

With me I carried a Kiddish cup my father and step-mother gave to Karen and me the week before she died when we were in the Adirondacks. It is a beautiful glass blown piece of art they brought back from a recent trip to Venice. Along with Elijah's cup and Miriam's cup, on the Seder table was that cup to remember Karen and James. Two seats empty this year, and for years immemorial, at my Seder table.

As the Seder started, led by my brother, the emotions hit me like a tidal wave. When we prepared to drink the first cup the tears began to roll down my face. My brother, who has and remains a rock for me despite what I know is his own overwhelming pain and suffering from the loss of Karen and James, said a few, short beautiful words to remind us all that even in the midst of the joy of Passover the sadness of live and death are never far. It is, indeed, one of the things Jews consistently remind themselves, but this wasn't the sadness of a long ago tragedy like the destruction of the Temple or the Shoah, but something that touched everyone around the table, and beyond, profoundly and intimately.

Somehow I made it through that moment, although it might have been the first time I could have dipped my karpas in the salt water of actual tears. There are so many more dates approaching that I have no idea how I will be able to handle them. Mother's day. Father's day. Holiday's. Birthday's. Anniversaries. Etc. I now look at the calendar like a checker board, each day marked with its own impending grief. But I will face them. One at a time. I am without my family, the family I was to be building with Karen, and that is a hole in my heart and life that can never be filled and can only be watered with more tears.

As always, my loved ones and friends are with me. So while I don't know how much more I have in that well of strength that I keep dipping into, what I do know is that if there is anything that will help replenish what I draw out it is the strength and support from all of you.

* * *

BTW - If not evident by the tone and flow, I wrote this post a bit more by stream of consciousness and let myself get caught up in the emotion of the moment.

The things I should be doing

I shouldn't be doing what I'm doing. This isn't what was supposed to happen.

I should be waking up for midnight feedings. I should be perfecting my diaper changing skills. I should be cooking for Karen and her cooking for me. I should be hugging her. I should be kissing her. I should be making memories with her. I should be watching James grow. I should be growing old with her. I should have a family and we should be living in Brooklyn together.

I shouldn't be thinking about estate issues. I shouldn't be picking out a grave marker. I shouldn't be sleeping alone. I shouldn't be wondering what James would have grown up to have been. I shouldn't have the terrible memories and images from the worst day of my life flashing in my mind constantly as they do now.

I should be happy, but can't imagine that now.

What's been giong on...

A short note/post to let everyone what has been going on with me lately.

For those who don't know, I started back at work this month. The firm and everyone in my office have been amazingly supportive throughout and continues to be so. The decision to return was the right one for a variety of reasons. First was that it provides structure to my days, which had become increasingly void of any purpose. I had taken to waking up later and later, followed by an ongoing effort to find things to do during the day. Not to put too find a point on it, but it was becoming a bit depressing - an emotion and feeling I need no increase of in my life. With work, I now have something to get up and get going for in the morning.

Also, being back in the office, amongst my colleagues, is a first step toward recreating a life for myself. As I've said to several people, the person writing this blog and going through this world is not the same as the one who sat down at Cafe Bogota on November 16, 2008 for a quick lunch. That person no longer exists, just as the life he knew doesn't either. Now my journey is to discover and establish a new me. To pick up the shattered pieces of what was and the shards of what was to be, and find a way to create a mosaic of new life incorporating those memories and hopes. To be sure, it is a long path and one without a finite end, but it is necessary for me to be embarking on it and is what Karen would want me to be doing. Returning to work is a small step on that course; incrementally changing my own self-perception and self-identification, which has been centered only on the magnitude of my losses, to something else.

That isn't to say that going back to work has been easy or smooth. On the contrary, it has been a very strange experience fraught with its own grief pitfalls, starting from the first day. I returned to my office and found it nearly exactly as I left it on November 13. Notes scribbled on Post-Its, and documents stacked in various piles on my desk evidenced the almost unspectacular routine that had been the week. I still wait for Karen to call and have to keep from picking up the phone and dialing her number throughout the day; it was a rare day when we didn't talk at least once during our time apart. The dour mood that I feel at home and on the street has followed me to the office.

On a positive side, I am pleased to report that enough money has been raised for the bench in memory of Karen and James, and I have also exceeded the fund raising requirement for the Hazon bike ride.

The plaque for the bench has been ordered and will be installed as soon as the Prospect Park Alliance is able to do so. As I've mentioned to several people by email already, I hope that it will be installed before I leave for Israel but am not certain that will happen. Whether before I leave or after, I plan to have an informal gathering at the bench once the plaque is in place and will post details of that. I will also post a photo and information on the exact location and directions to the bench.

As for the Hazon ride, despite the cold weather I have tried to get out on my bike when I can. On Saturday I was able to get in about 15 miles and felt very good after - i.e., I could have kept going longer. This is a good thing, since after seeing the ride profile, including altitudes and climb/descent grades, I realized that optimism would likely not outweigh some in-saddle time prior to getting to Tel Aviv.

Lastly, I have begun the search for someone to adopt two of Karen's four cats. I am keeping Tony and Grayola, but am trying to find a good home for Chewie and Mocha. They are brothers, about 12 or 13 years old, and were rescued by Karen many years ago. I have been in touch with City Critters, but if anyone knows someone who would be interested in adopting them please let me know.

As always, thank you all for your continued comments and notes of support. I read each and every one, but am not so good at responding or thanking you individually. Please don't let that stop you from writing, it helps more than I can express.

Lost Kiss

I've never really been "into" poetry and certainly wouldn't consider myself a poet, but this popped into my head and I couldn't stop thinking about it until I wrote it down. Your indulgence if it is sophomoric or banal:


I think about our first kiss
And remember it like yesterday
I struggle to remember our last kiss
Obscured by the routine of a once normal life
Just another of the countless times our lips met
Lost but so much more now

Such a short time between the two
Filled yet infinitely more unrealized
Many streets shared with her
A complicated path journeyed
To arrive here today
Without her

Thank You

I want to thank everyone who contributed to the bench in memory of Karen and James. Thanks to so many generous donations, the required amount has been reached and the Prospect Park Alliance is preparing to install the plaque. I am hopeful that it will be done before I leave for Israel and will post a note when it is place.

In keeping with this post's title, I also want to thank everyone who contributed in support of my bike ride in Israel. Today I passed the necessary minimum to allow me to ride. Now all I need to do is get myself, and my legs, prepared to pedal my bike from Tel Aviv to Eilat. I am not sure what my Internet connection will be while I'm riding, but will take loads of pictures and if not able to update daily will continue writing in my journal and post my Thinkerings when the ride is done.

The overwhelming support I've received for both these things, as well as the numerous contributions to Foundation Rwanda and gifts of food, etc., during Shiva, is humbling. People's inevitable first question when they see me is "how are you doing." Without the continued support of my family and friends, both emotionally and more tangibly, I don't think I could answer as I have been. Indeed, without it I fear I would be incapable of even formulating an answer. So in addition to my sincere gratitude for the donations you have all made, let me express my extreme and heartfelt thank you for every kind note, email, text message, prayer, or just thought to yourself that you've sent me. I awake in the morning and am able to go back into the world each day because of it.

Thank you.