Fifty-Eighth Birthday Thoughts

On this, the evening before my 58th birthday, I thought I'd share some of my feelings about where I'm at, and the various blessings I have received and continue to benefit from. Oh, sure, still in exile (for another few weeks), still on my own, etc. etc., but whiny-ness is no way to head into one's birthday, and besides, complaints inevitably sound stale and boring the next morning. Let's focus on the positive, shall we?

Let's start with the corporeal. I remain grateful for — and, honestly, surprised by — my continued good health. Oh, I hurt my shoulder a few days ago hitting tennis balls with friends without warming up first, and that may at some point force me to take a week or so off, and I've had a sore/stiff back since moving into my friend's house here in Tucson (I think the mattress on my bed here on isn't quite ideal, though I'm sleeping just fine), which is preventing me from exercising as much as I'd like. But those are minor and temporary aches and pains. As I head into 58, I've never broken a bone, I've had no hip or knee issues, and — unlike my father, by this age — I've not yet been diagnosed with cancer, or diabetes, or any of the other more serious and chronic ailments many people my age have developed.

They're coming, I'm sure, obviously. But not yet — and I'm able, at this point, to run, play tennis, have an ice cream or pizza, go to the gym, ride my bike, have sex (in theory, at least, if not so often in practice these days), and essentially do everything I could do a decade ago, or two, or four. 

That's wonderful, and I don't take any of it for granted. 

Second, necessary resources. I'm also fortunate in my financial situation. My father, in a thoughtful and generous act typical of him, left both my sister and me decent-sized inheritances when he died in 2018, and while those funds are not enough to retire on, they've provided me with a critical stability and security, allowing me the ability to live comfortably while I prepare for whatever comes next. My two businesses in Prague will (finally!) be launched soon, and I'm hopeful at least one of those — perhaps both — will do much more than simply underpin or supplement my savings. I hope they will, in fact, justify my father's confidence in me and make his gift an act of trust, rather than charity. We'll have to see. But I'm profoundly fortunate and immensely grateful to have that rainy-day fund. 

The personal! I'm fortunate to have so many great friends and family, distributed around the world. I received my first (electronic) birthday card this afternoon from Glenda, Liesel's mother in Australia — the most recent in a yearly tradition of her starting the acknowledgments. I've also already received a birthday note on Facebook from a former Peace Corps colleague in Russia, and I expect to hear tomorrow from friends in Italy, Germany, England, Canada, Brazil, Jordan, France, Greece, Turkey, Switzerland, Romania, and Hungary, among other countries, as well as from friends and family in Michigan, Kansas, California, Florida, Texas, New York, Tennessee, and Virginia, among other states.

And, of course, the Czech Republic, where I've already been fortunate enough to find friends to play tennis with, friends to go into business with, friends willing to cat-sit for me, and friends to break bread and share beers. 

And, of course of course, my friends here in Arizona. Amazingly, Matt and Remi — who arrived shortly before I decided to move back to Europe, and whose great friendship (which, of course, my life being what it is, developed almost immediately after I had committed to leaving) — have graciously allowed me to use one of their cars for as long as I'm here. Similarly, Rick, who went to Prague with me a few years ago on a visit, and is planning to come again next spring, is allowing me to stay in his house while I'm here, rent-free, which is incredibly kind. Mike and Mitch, my first friends here, remain close. Jim, Gina, Oleg, Nick, Brenda, and more .... It took leaving to realize the community of friends I have here. They're awesome.

In fact, why don't we stop here for some photos of me with my friends throughout the years. 

Christmastime, Ann Arbor,1988

Summer in Prague, 2018

Saying good-bye to Tucson the first time, in 2024

A softball team in Ann Arbor, 1984

Outside the school in Emar Bay, 1997

Winter party in Budapest, 2008-09

Michigan football, 2021

West Berlin, 1978

College, 1989

Zizkov, in Prague, 2023

Perth, 2024

And, of course of course, of course, my sister Emily in Charlottesville and my Mom in Athens, Ohio. Our regular video chats make me marvel at how recent this free video-calling tool has entered our lives and how immediately we've started taking it for granted. So many families are in one way or another dysfunctional, but somehow ... no, not somehow. Because my parents were unusually reasonable, intelligent, educated, and committed to being smart, our family has always stayed sensible, calm, and supportive. Losing my father was a giant blow to me, but my sister and Mom are absolutely fundamental to my ability to operate and normal. Emily is the best sister, and my Mom the best mother, I could ever dream of having. Fight me!

Virginia, 1995

Greece, 2023

Finally, of course of course, of course, of course: There's Liesel, in Vienna. She's the constant, the friend, the best friend ... and so much more. She's the reason I returned to Europe both in 2011 and again in 2024, and her presence in my life is a daily gift. I don't know what's going to happen with us, of course. Whether we're destined to stay apart, our relationship marked with frequent visits and travels, or whether at some point in the future our paths will join more permanently. Time will tell. Until then, though, it's difficult to imagine not talking with her every day, knowing her schedule like I know my own, sharing her anxieties and concerns, celebrating when I can make her laugh, and even sometimes accidentally hurting her but then breathing a massive sigh of relief when she forgives me. She knows me better than anyone else, her quick mind and kind spirit help me maintain perspective and hope, and although there is much we don't share — I'm nowhere near as open to the spiritual and hopeful parts of this world as she is, for instance, and for her part, she's not likely to join me on the sofa watching football anytime soon — we share a sense of humor, as well as general understanding/sensibility that helps us both keep moving forward.

She knows.

Everything, Always

For her. For her and my mother and sister. For her and my mother and sister and friends in Arizona and the Czech Republic. For her and my mother and sister and friends in Arizona and the Czech Republic and around the world ... I could not have been more blessed. Whoever is reading this, wherever, and whenever ... you should envy me. I am truly fortunate.

Ok, let's wrap this up with a few other things I'm happy about. We'll do it in a bullet-list to save time:

• Detroit Tigers in the playoffs, giving me daily diversion while I wait for my visa!
• A good season for both Michigan football and, remarkably, for Crystal Palace 
• The fact that being exiled in the US means, happily, regular exposure to good bagels and Mexican food, and good frozen pizza, all of which are very difficult —if not impossible — to find in Europe!
• A belated-in-life-but-better-then-than-never discovery that I'm pretty damned good in tennis!
• Still have my hair!
• Those authors we find, like — for me — Elmore Leonard and Mick Herron, whose next books we eagerly await and immediately devour
• General athleticism and coordination! (I was talking to Rick today about how I've never been superior in any sport, but I've always been basically coordinated and sportly(!)-inclined, and I don't take that for granted. You show me a sport (other than golf), and I'll quickly become by-all-accounts-good-though-never-great at it. 
• Washing machines and driers. I lived in Russia. I did fine there. I enjoyed it. But good GOD I never want to wash jeans by hand again, ever ever ever.

Finally, I would be remiss if I didn't express my gratitude for and profound love for the two cats I've shares most of the past 14 years with. Jeneroo, who entered my life in 2013, and Catalina, who entered it on New Year's Eve 2019, are charismatic, demanding, vomity, talkative, problematic-and-profoundly-worth-it bundles of fur, claws, and love. One or the other of them has spent almost all of the many years I've lived alone since 2017, and coming home to and hanging out at home with them has gone a long way towards keeping me sane. I can tell you, experiencing it as I did for three months last spring and am again now, coming home to an empty and cold house/flat is ... lonely. We are all blessed by the love these animals give us, me particularly by Jen and Cat.

Zen Jen

Cat Sat

Thank you, Jen the Roo and Catalina Malina.

And Happy Birthday to me!

Update and ... Sigh, Politics

It's been a long time since I posted anything here, I know, but I'm on another forced exile, this time spent exclusively in Tucson, and a few people have expressed enthusiasm for the blog, so I thought the time was write to pick it up again.

Quick update: Although the Czech Ministry declares on its own website that it is required to give an answer for an appeal of a decision to deny a business visa application within 30 days, in fact we were only able to get an answer after about 130 — and that only when my friend Jiri spent many, many hours on the phone chasing down an appropriate person, and, once hey got a power-of-attorney from me, eliciting a "no" from them. Their formal answer arrived here in Tucson about three weeks — another 21 days — later.

Anyway, once I got the "no" from the Ministry, I decided to explore the possibility of getting a residence permit instead of a business visa, tied to employment in my own Czech company. In other words, I would pay myself a salary — and the substantial taxes due on salary — and use that to apply for a residence permit. It was under such a system that I lived in Europe from 2007-2019 (first as an employee of the Hudson Legal (and then Legalis) legal recruiting agency, and then as an employee of my own company, CEE Legal Matters Kft.), so I was kind of familiar with it.

I started by reaching out to an immigration agency that advertised its ability to help people in my situation, and they agreed to assist me immediately. Among other things, they said this is the process I should have initiated from the very beginning — the Business Visa process, they conceded, should have been the right one, but in practice the Czech government apparently almost never gives them out, preferring instead to see applications in the residence permit process, which of course involves payment of taxes and other social contributions.

That actually makes sense to me — a government has every right to suggest that, if foreigners would like to live in their country, those foreigners should pay the freight. But I sure wish they had told me that at the beginning, instead of allowing me to go down the Business-Visa road for what turned out to be almost nine months before giving me a final answer.

C'est la vie. 

In any event, my tourist visa expired around August 18th, and I was forced to leave Prague yet again. The new process, the agency says, should only take 45-60 days from the date of application (instead of the 90 of the Business Visa), and we finally got all the documents together and submitted them on September 10, so I'm hanging out in Tucson, again, until at least late October. If, again, they delay in giving me an answer, I'll qualify for a new tourist visa again on November 15, so ... it won't be too much longer after that.

In the meantime, my friend Rick has generously invited me to stay in his house while he house-sits at a friend's place, and my friend Matt has given me one of his cars to use while I'm here, so I'm saving a lot of money by staying in Tucson while I wait — not to mention playing a lot of tennis and seeing friends. It's not ideal — I'd sure like to be back in Prague, in my own apartment, enjoying the fall weather, hanging out with Catalina, but ... I'll survive.

-------------------

Ok, now you're up to speed. So a quick comment on a completely different subject.

A friend recently wrote a post on facebook noting that he had cancelled his Disney+ account in protest of Disney's suspension of late-night talk show host Jimmy Kimmel, following Kimmel's comments about the controversial finger-pointing following the shooting of Conservative Charlie Kirk. That friend's Facebook friends clearly include some conservatives, including one who, in one comment, suggested that "Everyone knows jimmy is a trump hating lib-tard," and that "The left has become the party of hate and violence," and then in a subsequent comment wrote that liberals "gunned down" Kirk and then played the victim.  

In response, I wrote that:  

"That's a little unfair, no? Liberals as a 'group' didn't gun down anybody. Even though I'm a liberal, I *promise*, I neither gunned anybody down, nor wanted anybody "gunned down." I worry that you've been taught to think of 'Liberals' or 'Libtards' as your enemy, even though what *I* want, at least, is a country where we help the needy and support each other, regardless of ethnic, racial, sexual, or gender-identity difference. I get the sense you think 'Liberals' stand for something else — and who knows, maybe some of them do! But you might also be surprised. I, as a Libtard male, enjoy watching football, like girls, and have beers with friends. It turns out that 'Liberals' are just other Americans. I promise. If someone commits a crime, he should absolutely be arrested and prosecuted. But despite what some in this country may be trying to tell you, 'Liberals' are not your enemy. They're just other Americans."

Two quick follow-up thoughts on this. First, simply, I think we all need to focus on this kind of communication method. I notice that a lot of other responses to my friend's conservative friend's comments are hostile, aggressive, and sometimes vulgar. And those are written by people on my side of the aisle! I think we would do better to engage — perhaps worry less about scoring points, and more about friendly conversation. 

Second, the amount of hatred and vitriol directed at liberals continues to confuse me. It has always seemed to me that the worst you can accuse liberals of — at least middle-and-upper-class liberals — is naivete. Sure, maybe they're naive about human nature and the power of government to help. Maybe they're naive about the seductive power of big government. But, after all, what they're advocating for is increasing their own tax burden to help other people. Warping that into an accusation of evil takes mental calisthenics I can't quite understand. Yes, they're spending other people's money. But they're also spending their own! How is that ... how is that evil?

Where in the world does the hatred and scorn come from? Accuse liberals of being naive, if you want. Accuse them of being too free with other peoples' money (as long as you acknowledge they're also spending their own). Accuse them of being too innocent about human nature. Of being children.

But do we really hate children for wanting to share toys? Do we call them evil?

It's bizarre to me. And maybe liberals should do a better job of explaining their positions, I guess.

Not Just About Tennis

Been a few weeks, I know. A combination of demands on my time (including several visits from friends, a fair amount of work on my two projects — three, if we include the daily work I do for Radu on CEE Real Estate Matters), and, frankly, no real developments of significance with the visa or living situation, has limited both my time for and my interest in drafting and posting updates.

Matt "Enjoying" the Tartar at Kolkovna

Drinks at Riegrovy Park

Drinks at U Zlateho Tygr

A Good-bye Drink in Vinohrady!

And what I've got today isn't exactly revolutionary, either. But it's ... important, to me, and I wanted to share. It's going to seem to be all about tennis, but stick with it. It's not, really — or not entirely.

So first: I was playing pretty well in England, with Oliver. As he got better I got weaker, but I have no real experience on grass, and I held my own. It was fun, and I felt comfortable and confident.

But I signed up to play in a tournament here in Prague the first day after I returned, and ... it was miserable. In large part because I hadn't played on clay in three months — and in fact had been playing on grass, which is essentially the polar opposite of the primary playing surfaces — I was absolutely not prepared for the completely different way the ball bounces, putting me way out of position and unable to hit a hard shot. I managed to win my group by: a) playing against much weaker players; and b) pushing the ball into the court and relaying on my defense to win. But I was simply unable — I mean, absolutely unable — to hit a normal topspin groundstroke, which was extremely frustrating for my opponents (and embarrassing for me). In the quarterfinals I played a guy who had lost two of his three group matches and who, on a normal day, I would have beaten 6-2, and ... I lost in a tiebreak. (Though kind of cool that I was down 1-4 and 2-5 before coming back to FORCE a tie-break).

Even worse, I had to suffer his polite inquiry as to whether this was my first tournament — I think he was actually trying to reassure me that I was pretty good for a newbie! Sigh.

Although I somehow knew I'd need a readjustment to clay, it never feels like that's what's going on. It feels like you just stink, and I left the tournament angry at myself and disappointed.

That's the initial background.

After that I played twice with Filip and once with another American here in town, and did reasonably well. Not great, but of course when there's nothing at stake I was more relaxed, and it was fine.

And then I found a tennis coach to work with once or twice a week, hoping to recreate the effect coaching had on me in the States — locking down the ground-strokes and giving me the confidence I needed to play well in tournaments again.

...

And then things fell off the cliff. 

I played in another tournament on June 15th, and it was a disaster. For some reason I had the same experience as the previous tournament: Won all my group matches against really really weaker players by relying only on my defense — having to suffer their obvious frustration (and directed anger) at how defensively I was playing — and then losing in the quarterfinal against a weaker player when I simply couldn't hit the ball. 

Meanwhile, although I still hadn't (and still haven't) received any word from the Czech Ministry about the status of my appeal, I did remember that there's a website you can check for updates. On Thursday morning I checked it, and got this message:

Wonderful

To be fair, it's not evident whether this is reflecting only the status of my formal application, which I of course already knew about, or whether it's been updated to reflect the status after my appeal. It's just not clear. 

Still, while in some ways this means nothing has changed, it certainly isn't good news, and although I had been telling myself to expect rejection on the appeal, this put that theoretical emotional readiness to the test. After checking it on Thursday I thought was handling it ok — joked about it with Liesel, both of us reminding each other that it actually doesn't necessary mean anything about the appeal — and headed off to play tennis with Filip.

That gets us to the most recent tennis match I've played. Following up on an unpleasant first tournament back involving a failed readjustment to clay, then another more inexplicable replication of that result in a subsequent tournament, then kinda/sorta bad news about my visa status, which was forcing me to start thinking about continuing to live in limbo and out of a suitcase another six months or so — delaying my ability to get real health insurance here, get a bank account, get furniture for my apartment, etc. etc. —I was carrying a little more stress than I was aware of into this meaningless friendly morning tennis match.

Sure enough, I was super tight, and ... could not hit a normal ball. During the first set, when Filip was still cold, I was able to stay competitive, but once he really warmed up he obliterated me. He won 6-4, 6-0, and we finished with me hitting another ball out by ten feet, then throwing my racket in frustration. 

I found myself having an ongoing conversation with God throughout — well, it was a one-way conversation. I just kept begging Him not to take the one thing in my life I enjoyed and was good at away from me. I kept asking Him how many lessons He felt I needed to learn in my life. And although I also acknowledged to myself that I was wallowing in self pity — I mean, even at the time I recognized it — I simply could not stop thinking about how, despite all my effort, I was living in limbo and out of a suitcase as I approach 60, no real home, no family, no real job, no real pension, and now the one thing I feel good about myself with is being taken away from me again.

Ugh. Once the ball started rolling, it was impossible to stop, and every time I tried to tell myself, "ok, shake it off, just hit THIS ball well" ... I would hit it 15 feet out. (That's a LOT, that's someone who really doesn't know how to hit a tennis ball).  It was among the worst experiences of my life. It was crushing. It was so painful I can't explain it. I actually felt, a few times, that maybe I would throw up.

When we finished the second set I told Filip that it would probably be best if we just stopped there, and I managed to hang out with him for half an hour, laughing a bit, walking home with him, and being social, before going into my apartment and feeling crushed.

Ok, that's all the bad news.

The good news is, Friday afternoon I realized what had just happened. In my opinion, I've been carrying around a lot of stress, and putting too much — way too much — pressure on my tennis to be an escape. Playing tennis well — simply hitting the ball well — requires finding that really fine sweet-spot between focus/concentration — precision timing, power, technique, and tactics — and relaxation, keeping your wrist super loose to snap it over the ball, giving it topspin and keeping it in the court. The more stressed you are, the more difficult it is to stay loose — if you watch tennis on TV they'll talk about a player getting "tight" late in close matches, as he or she makes surprising errors. And that was absolutely happening to me. I was trying to FORCE the ball into going where I wanted at the pace I wanted, and ... that's just not how tennis works. You have to relax, you have to be able to snap your wrist, and with all the frustration of the past two weeks of tennis and the ongoing uncertainty about my life piling on top of me, I simply wasn't able to do it.

I was happy to have this epiphany, and I was glad I had scheduled a tennis lesson for this afternoon. Still, I approached it with some trepidation. If, in fact, I was still unable to keep the ball in the court, I would literally have to put the racket aside for a month or two. If tennis isn't giving me pleasure — and it certainly hasn't been, for the past few weeks — there's simply no reason to keep at it.

But, fortunately, wrapping this all up ... I made a conscious effort to stay relaxed, to snap my wrist, to not dwell on mistakes, and it was all much better. Of course a lesson is very different from an actual match, so I'm interested to see what I do in my Wednesday morning match against Filip, but knowing what my problem is should make it much easier to address it when it arises — he said, crossing his fingers.

Looking back at it, I think the uncertainty and dislocation and frustration of the past four months — to some extent, over the past nine months or so — just fell on me like a load of bricks, making even what is normally the simple pleasure and easy escape of tennis impossible, and once that was taken away from me, making it all way too much. 

Way.

Too.

Much.

All that just to say ... that fine line between focus and relaxation isn't just tennis, of course. It's everything. I've now caught my breath, and remembered all my blessings. I certainly don't have the most traditional life, but I have a few very good friends, I've experienced and learned a lot in this life, and I have a lot of exciting things going on now and on the horizon. I don't mean to say the sadness about choices not taken and opportunities missed is gone, so much, but at least it's tempered by an awareness of the choices I have taken and the opportunities I have seized. That's how this all works. 

And tomorrow is a new chance to find ... confidence and stability. As is the day after that. And the day after that. Not dead yet.

Still looking good!

And then my old friend Beth was here, from way back San Francisco days, with her husband Carvell, and that was every bit as diverting and fun as I could have hoped.

Life isn't that bad after all.

Loving Luton Airport — An EasyJet Delay Consideration

My EasyJet flight to Prague having been delayed by several hours (at least), I'm back in the terminal and able to add one more quick post.

Every time I board an airplane I can't help but wondering if this will be the time it goes down. I assume I'm not alone in that. But I find myself thinking I should at least leave some note. But it can't be maudlin or overly emotional, as of course almost certainly all will be well. 

So instead of "tell my family I love them" or "tell the following people I'm sorry," I thought, perhaps, I should focus on something else. 

I've told a few people, recently, that this moving-back-to-Europe thing was empirically the right thing for me to do, regardless of the difficulties and problems I've encountered, from hassles involving getting Catalina over on the flight from the US, to problems finding a good apartment, to problems with banks, phones, and everything else, leading up and concluding with, of course, this unexpected and unwelcome exile.

Despite all that, coming back to Europe was absolutely the right thing for me to do. I had felt, during those five years in Arizona, as if I was spinning my wheels a bit, not getting any traction on what I wanted to be doing ... what I should be doing. It was fine — I made a number of really good friends, had a nice big apartment, played a lot of tennis, got Catalina, was able to travel, was in a good financial position, and was in good health. It was good.

But ... it was missing something important. It really did feel like I was adding days upon days, life upon life, without ever feeling like I was progressing. And the minute I got back to Europe I immediately felt I was.  Indeed, I think that's why I decided to come in the first place — every time I had traveled to Europe after moving back in 2019 I felt confident and happy, and as soon as I landed in the States I felt ... saddened, and empty. 

The problem was mine, of course — I couldn't unpack it any more if I tried. I suppose it has something to do with the lifestyle I enjoy so much in Europe — the neighborhood and communities, the general hope, the absence of the cruelty that I think we've all discovered recently has in some ways has been lying only just beneath the surface in the United States. I don't know.

In any event, since I got back, and despite everything that's happened recently, I feel more positive, more hopeful, more engaged ... and yes, like I have more traction. It's a good feeling. I'm actively glad I did this. All of this is an adventure — which doesn't mean it's all easy, or fun. But it's good to feel I'm adventuring, rather than waiting.

I keep returning to Ithaka, the poem by Greek poet C.P. Cafavy. I don't know what Ithaka is, exactly, in my life. It's not really Ann Arbor, though, in terms of the geographic port from which I set sail in my adult life, I assume that city could conceivably play a similar role. But I'm not interested in getting back to Ann Arbor, soon or ever. Or ... West Berlin, or Kansas.

I think "Ithaka," for me, would be the state of contentment, of stability/security, of purpose, I had in my childhood, and that I've rarely had in adulthood, and that at some point I still hope to recover. 

So, as I prepare to board this flight to Prague, please know that ... I've felt closer to my Ithaka in the past six months than anytime in the previous six years, and that, as Cavafy suggested, it's the journey that matters. I'm hopeful some day I'll be able to return to my Ithaka, but if not — if the Cyclops or the Sirens stop me on this trip home — that's ok. I've lived, and struggled, and fought, and loved, and laughed, and reveled, and cried. And I'm glad I found my way back to my travels. I'd much rather be brought down trying to soar than twiddling my thumbs.

Ithaka

By C. P. Cavafy

As you set out for Ithaka

hope your road is a long one,

full of adventure, full of discovery.

Laistrygonians, Cyclops,

angry Poseidon—don’t be afraid of them:

you’ll never find things like that on your way

as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,

as long as a rare excitement

stirs your spirit and your body.

Laistrygonians, Cyclops,

wild Poseidon—you won’t encounter them

unless you bring them along inside your soul,

unless your soul sets them up in front of you.

Hope your road is a long one.

May there be many summer mornings when,

with what pleasure, what joy,

you enter harbors you’re seeing for the first time;

may you stop at Phoenician trading stations

to buy fine things,

mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,

sensual perfume of every kind—

as many sensual perfumes as you can;

and may you visit many Egyptian cities

to learn and go on learning from their scholars.

Keep Ithaka always in your mind.

Arriving there is what you’re destined for.

But don’t hurry the journey at all.

Better if it lasts for years,

so you’re old by the time you reach the island,

wealthy with all you’ve gained on the way,

not expecting Ithaka to make you rich.

Ithaka gave you the marvelous journey.

Without her you wouldn't have set out.

She has nothing left to give you now.

And if you find her poor, Ithaka won’t have fooled you.

Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,

you’ll have understood by then what these Ithakas mean.

Cheers