On a Personal Note

I appreciate the emails, phone calls and questions from my customers and friends concerned about my recent absence from the store.

At the beginning of the last article that you read, yep the one just above this, I confessed that I was not an expert at anything. Marriage is another one of those anything’s.

After twenty-four years of marriage, Sandra and I decided that we should go our separate ways. On October 4^th, our divorce was finalized. On October 31^st, we closed on our house. On that same day I thought that I was having a heart attack. I could barely breathe; my chest felt tight and was getting tighter by the minute. After several hours of repose and realizing that I was not getting any better I decided to consult with my physician.

After arriving at the doctor’s office and explaining my symptoms, I was escorted into a room where a nurse quickly took my blood pressure and measured my heart rate. She quickly left the office and came back with my doctor.

After he took my vitals he recommended that I go to the ER. I refused. I was at the doctor’s office because I do not like the long waits in the ER. He told me that the ER had the necessary equipment to rule out a heart attack and to help me if I had one while there.

After a few minutes of back and forth questions and answers, I told the doctor about my divorce and the pending closing on our house scheduled for later that afternoon. I told the doctor that during the last week we had an estate sale and the furniture in the room that I was staying in had sold. I had finally been forced to leave the house and my family.

The doctor determined that more than likely I was having an anxiety attack, but he warned me that anxiety attacks could lead to heart attacks. He left the room to make some calls. Even though it was a Friday afternoon, he was able to find a cardiologist in the same building who was able to see me immediately. After some tests on the treadmill, it was determined that I was not having a heart attack and that with time my heart pains would disappear.

One of the kindest acts of friendship and love that anyone has ever demonstrated towards me came from a friend who I have known for almost 50 years. Jim Hutcheson and his wife, Sarah, invited me to move in with them. They have a spacious home and an extra room to offer me. Having a place to come home to every day, with friends to help me through the sad transition of family man to single guy soothed my feelings. Invitations to join them in family dinners and outings made me feel comfortable and at ease.

At this writing it has been almost six months since my divorce and separation from my kids. The first two weeks were the hardest and even though my daughter still does not return my calls or text messages, I have felt some great changes in my life.

The best for now is that my son, Victor, is working with me and seems to like what he is doing and the responsibilities that I have entrusted him with. I get to see him almost every day and lunch with him at least twice a week.

As a lot of you know I have always had a passion for travel. With the slowdown in business due to winter cycles, the slowdown in our economy and following my doctor’s orders to take some time off from work to concentrate on things that will keep me from thinking about my family, things that will make me feel good about myself, I decided to travel.

And I did. I have been on a total of six trips between November and March. My first trip was back to Peru where I attended my high school class reunion. After thirty-five years I reunited with classmates, some of whom I had lost contact with and some of the teachers that helped me get ready for adulthood, all now friends who I hoped would help keep me busy during the first few weeks after my divorce.

While in Lima I met Jose Antonio Rohde, my brother Fernando’s oldest son. He is a charming young man who has recently married and is now the proud father of my first grand-niece. We spent several evenings together with him asking me questions about the father he never knew. His mother and Fernando divorced when he was only six months old. Fernando left Peru for other destinations, including a short stay in the US.

Jose Luis is a producer of a weekly series of documentaries. Many of my class mates asked if I was related to Jose Antonio and commented favorably on his program.

In December I went to Telluride for the Christmas holiday. Jim, Sarah and their son Nathan invited me to stay with them in their beautiful house with views of the Rocky Mountains. It would be my first Christmas without my family and their first Christmas since the death of their second son Warren. Warren died on New Years day 2008 as he and two friends were on their way to Telluride.

They tried their hardest to continue their family Holiday traditions and in a way I was able to help. Every Christmas Eve the family would play Scrabble and as a new member of the family we played for hours. I had a great time despite all the cheating that went on. Words were invented to help win points. It was no wonder that I lost. I would never cheat.

I also visited L.A. where I met Rosemary, Fernando’s daughter. When Fernando lived in the US he was married for a short while to a girl from Lima that he met while in Miami. The results from their brief marriage was a beautiful daughter. Rosemary knew her father for the first two years of her life. Fernando, the wanderlust that he was, went back to Peru. We both had so many questions about our lives that we did not talk that much about Fernando. We promised to spend time dedicated to Fernando’s life upon our next visit.

Rosemary has a very strong, hard working mother who single handedly raised her. Making sure that education was a high priority on her list of achievements. Rosemary will graduate from Cal Tech with a Masters degree in In vitro Chemistry this spring she has two promising job offers that will allow her to continue research as well as becoming a partner for an up and coming business venture. I hope to go back to L.A. to attend her graduation ceremony.

In March I went with the Hutcheson’s to Palm Beach, where Jim was asked to speak at a fundraiser for Caron Treatment Centers. Donald Trump and his wife, Melania, at his Mar A Lago property, hosted this function.

We went in a private jet and were met at the airport by a limousine service. Nathan and I shared a room at The Colony Hotel located in downtown Palm Beach. There was nothing really spectacular about our first night in Palm Beach, so I won’t bore you with details about nothing.

Early on Friday morning Nathan and I went to Mar A Lago. WOW!!!

To enter the estate you drive down a long palm tree covered driveway. Looking out the left side of the car you see a beautifully manicured croquet field surrounded by a beautiful landscape, full of vibrant colors that one does not see during the cold Dallas winters.

As we approach the entrance you wonder at the beautiful palace in front of you and how one woman, Marjorie Merriweather Post, dedicated much of her time to create such a place. The amount of money that it would cost today to replicate such a structure is unimaginable.

I dragged Sarah with me to discover the nooks and crannies, the long corridors that led to guest rooms. We saw oil paintings, statues, candelabras, wood etchings, carved stone walls, mosaics, tapestries and so many details that were detailed in so many ways that I would have to go into great detail to explain the details. So much to detail so little time.

And then we saw a tree growing out of a gutter. Ha! With all the beauty, with all the staff available, I felt vindicated for not making my bed every morning.

As we walked around the lower level inspecting the landscape and the passageways that led between buildings we let our eyes follow the landscape. One particular plant made us look upward. And then we saw a tree growing out of the gutter. Proof that nobody or no property is manicured to perfection.

Despite the tree I was not about to end my tour or let one blight ruin my one-day stay at such a magnificent location. As I walked around the estate I questioned my good fortune.

I did not ask for the luxuries I have received since my divorce. A large room to call my own, in a large beautiful home, in one the most prestigious neighborhoods in Dallas. Trips on private jets, three total since my divorce, chauffeured rides to and from airports. Stays in beautiful hotels, dinners in 5 star restaurants… Why?

I will never know.

Later that night Jim’s brother Henry (some of you may remember him from my South Africa trip in November of 2007) and I sat at a table listening as Jim gave a speech that caught the attention of the more then 500 guests in attendance at the fundraiser. Jim spoke about the death of his youngest son in a tragic car accident and the care and response given to the remaining son Nathan by the counselors and staff at Caron and his yearlong sobriety. During pauses in his speech, pauses to catch his breath, to hold back tears not a sound was heard. Several times I looked around and saw 1000 eyes directed at the podium. And then, at the end as people started to clap you could hear the chairs being pushed backwards as Mr. Trump and then his wife stood up clapping, followed quickly by all present.

After all Sarah and Jim have done for me, I too raised to clap to help Jim enjoy the moment. And while we all stood he motioned his son to the podium. The proud father beamed with pride as his young son, who has now dedicated his life to helping others through the debilitating effects of substance abuse, made his way to his side. The applause got louder. The smile on Jim’s face got larger.

A few minutes passed and all sat down to wait for dessert to be served. From my vantage point at the end of the table I saw Mr. Trump get up from his table, he pulled his wife’s chair slightly backward and offered her his arm. They both walked towards our table.

Sitting next to Nathan I was surprised when he stopped next to me. I quickly rose. Nathan followed. “Nathan, would you introduce me to your father?”

Together they walked to where Jim and Sarah sat at the middle of the table. Nathan tapped the shoulder of his mother who turned around greeting her son with the always-large smile. “Mom, Dad, I would like to introduce you to Mr. Trump.”

I could not hear everything that was said, but being who I am, very curious, I sneaked my way closer to the group in time to hear Mr. Trump offer a $25,000 dollar donation in Nathan and Warren’s name to Caron Treatment Centers. They then hurded me backwards as they walked towards a clearing for a family photo with Mr. and Mrs. Trump was to be taken.

At the end of Jim’s speech he gave thanks to several of the attending guest for the help that they had offered to Nathan, Sarah and himself during the first year after the tragic death of his son. “I would also like to give a special thanks to my brothers Henry and Greg for all the support and love given during the most difficult time of my life.”

Wellllll! How about that! I was honored. I had never in my life been given what I consider a tribute for whatever little bit I do. I know that I am not an expert in anything, much less helping friends through grief, but somehow it seems that I have and I am very proud of the acknowledgement that I received.

So proud to be called a brother that I took that title over to Mr. Trump. “Excuse me sir, you just had a photo taken with my brother, could I have my photo taken too?

A big smile came across his face. “Sure. I would be honored.”

“Can I stand next to your wife?”

The smile disappeared. “No! You will stand right here,” he said as he gestured with his right hand, his left arm pulling his beautiful wife nearer to him, protecting her. From me?

As the photo was taken, I wondered why is it me that is receiving the charmed life?

I will never know.