A long time ago my son wrote a paper about me and the subject was, “perseverance.” I remember because it was during the most challenging part of my life that every ounce of energy remaining in me was all about perseverance. Still is. At a crossroads of a decade, sixty-years to be exact, I am realizing not all that I dreamed about in my life is obtainable. Having said that, I need to qualify and say all I dream about in my “later” life may not be obtainable. You see, all I ever wished for, before I was sixty, has happened and has been accomplished, but in a family where in four generations no paternal male has made it to the sixth decade of life, planning becomes a bit skewed. I have set new goals and wanted to enrich my life in other ways, but the way isn’t as smooth or even available, for that matter. For five decades I lived life at breakneck speed as if nothing would be left, and I would be dead. Well, I’m not dead, and so far, I have no threatening illness that may kill me in the next five months. I persevere. It would be easy to sit back an enjoy a life of taking care of my wife and home and do a few odd jobs here and there, but I want to leave one great impression on this earth. I have a legacy – great, good, and bad – but I have too much energy to sit. I have too much left in the tank to sit idly in a barn waiting for someone to gaze at my engine and wonder what happened to the chassis. I put words out into thin air hoping they resonate somewhere. Hoping they land on eyes  and ears that may commiserate. Which brings about the most difficult part of my life that has taken the most energy in persevering; Always feeling alone. I simply can’t shake it. And I’m at a point in my life where I can’t hide it. People who know me well and those in my immediate family know of my conundrum, but those in the public, those for which I wish I could talk to and share, don’t have a clue. They see me as this bohemian bon vivant, but inside there is a constant struggle simply to be in the public purview. Thus, I write. Words find a warm spot in front of my eyes allowing me to bare my soul and those words look back at me asking if I’m being authentic, so I pause. I re-read. Yes, I’m being authentic, yet I persevere. I do know where these feelings emanate from, and I do know therapeutic ways for me to combat “bad” feelings – intense therapy was worth the cost – but it’s tiresome. No, it’s exhausting. Today is one of those exhausting days. Today is one of those days where perseverance is the mantra because I know it’s mental gymnastics, I know it’s my own mind twisting the world this way, and I know that the deep-rooted worst emotions are generally temporary, but in being authentic, I will continue to feel alone after the crisis. Feeling alone among friends and community I’m immersed in is difficult to explain; however, that’s my life. I shall persevere through emotional upheavals, I shall feel a part of the world, and I will leave a lasting imprint on humanity. I persevere.