I’ve come to the realization that there are three stages of life: Youth, Middle Age and “You Look Good!” I can’t resist that line when someone tells me I look good.   Actually, in my case, the third stage is what I call my Afterlife.   No matter how long I live I will never retire.  Rather, I will revel in this stage as a sort of enjoyable, no holds barred Afterlife.  

This is a continuation of Nancy’s blog on Tuesday. The vision was familiar. Flames from an iconic building in the City’s skyline. As I watched, the feelings of 9/11 percolated through me. I then remembered. The visits. Walking through the massive doors. The beauty. The history. And I remembered visiting Paris in December after 9/11. It was cold. I wore a scarf fashioned after the American flag. Parisians, not previously known for their friendliness to American tourists, expressed empathy and made us feel welcome. The recent disaster that we had experienced was felt by them.

Never have I ever witnessed harmony in nature like the National Park in Pointe Reyes, California with this special girl named Christie. What a treat to have toured some of the most beautiful terrain in the United States, by foot. Elk, cow, chickens, sheep, oysters, wild birds, redwoods, cyprus, eucalyptus and the ocean all co-exist together, in one environment.

  It took more than 8 1/2 hours but the fire at Notre Dame is finally out.

Admittedly, I am writing this blog on Saturday afternoon, but I have only one thought running through my head. And I can’t seem to think about, or write, about any other topic today. My preoccupation is what will the final season of Game of Thrones bring? I don’t recall being so eager to watch the final season of any other television series than that of Game of Thrones.  

Knowing a few folks often becomes a calling card in doing business. The proverbial “large” rolodex (Anyone still use one – I once had two!) became a resource often helpful in developing business prospects, securing introductions, accessing experts and more.  

What do you do with oil that can't be refined or used for commercial purposes?   Apparently you tell people that it's great for your health. In Azerbaijan's north-western city of Naftalan there is a spa that believes a crude oil bath can cure you of a bunch of things.  

I saw The Killer rip it up atop his piano in 1957 to close the show at Alan Freed’s Brooklyn Paramount after Screaming Jay Hawkins rose from his coffin to put an eternal spell on me.  That same year I saw Althea Gibson make everlasting history by winning the Women’s Tennis Singles Final at the old Forest Hills.