About Randy Kaufman

Due to the highly sensitive nature of my work, I cannot share details that haven’t been anonymized and veiled. So, I wrote a short story. It’s a work of realistic fiction, much like the numerous historical fiction books I consume.

In order to wrap our minds around a client’s purpose, wealth advisors must go below the surface, beyond the realm of technical issues such as alpha, beta, and standard deviations, into what matters most: the land of emotional intelligence — EQ.

I lay in a rescue toboggan — the emergency-red sled ski patrols use to transport injured skiers to safety — whizzing down a run ironically called Twister, pelted on all sides by cold, biting February snow, peering into a chasm of questions.

In this article, Andrea and Randy review some of the most common — and destructive — messages in our respective fields and put forth some tips on how to take back control.

If you’d seen me at six, in tears at the base of the rope-tow line, my parents ski-footed and taking the slow ride up to the top of Butternut Basin, you’d never think that protestful, bratty little girl would turn into a passionate skier.

My love of reading was built on a foundation of fiction. I have vivid memories of reading under a tree in Westchester with one of our family’s many dogs, devouring Gone with the Wind. This love would extend through my travels of early adulthood — to the otherworldly classics of French and Russian literature.

My father named our family’s first dog — a medium-sized, regal brown poodle — Cato. During Cato’s long life, many assumed the name “Cato” came from the Green Hornet’s sidekick, similarly named “Kato.” However, my father, never a TV watcher, insisted that he’d named the dog for some long-dead Ancient Roman senator.

Cruising down the FDR Drive, I felt ten pounds lighter. That unmistakable feeling hovered: The ceaseless churn, the infinitude of events and minds and souls, the millions of stories flaring up and dying away under lights that never burned out.

I heard my father’s message of resilience throughout my childhood. It, and other better-known variations of the sentiment — ”The only way out is through” (a Robert Frost paraphrase), “If you’re going through hell, keep going” (Winston Churchill) — turned grit into my north star.

I didn’t plan to spend most of 2022 reading books about the darkness of the human spirit. But whether it was a coincidence or an unconscious effort to match the darkness of the year, that’s what happened.