Humans are subject to an insidious push and pull between comfort and discomfort. Like any species with the evolutionary persistence to survive for millions of years, we’ve survived largely by our ability to identify and avoid threats — toothsome predators in days long past, nebulous anxieties of moneylessness and failure today.
Read MoreDue 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.
Read MoreIn 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.
Read MoreI 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.
Read MoreIn 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.
Read MoreIf 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.
Read MoreMy 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.
Read MoreMy 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.
Read MoreCruising 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.
Read More
