Tony and Me

The question for today is what is the connection between Veteran’s Day, Tony Bennett and me?

Give up? 

Well… It all came together on June 19, 2013 when I attended a Tony Bennett Concert at the Denver Botanic Garden.  To set the stage, it is an informal outdoor venue with no assigned seats, in fact no seats.  Typically, you lay on blankets or sit in your own folding chair that can be no more than 26 inches tall, bring a picnic basket, your favorite beverage and listen to music in the glorious evening weather that only Colorado can offer.

That is when our eyes met … me and Tony ….  and he threw me a kiss.  Now it is getting good, you might be saying to yourself.

What drew Tony’s attention to me was a sign I held up.  This was very uncharacteristic of me to draw such attention but I had to.  I was driven by a very powerful need to create this moment and I wasn’t going to miss the opportunity. 

Truth be told, this was the second night in a row I saw Tony but the first time I chickened out!   So on the way home from the first night’s concert with some trepidation but welcomed encouragement by another Toni with an “i”, I stopped at the local Walgreen to buy a white poster board and wide tipped magic markers.  I rushed home and created a rudimentary sign that a first grader would make fun of.  

The sign was not in color and not fancy at all.  It simply read ….. “63^rd INF.  DIV   255^th INF REG”.

You see ….  Tony Bennett, then Anthony Benedetto, served during World War II in the 63^rd Infantry Division, 255^th Infantry Regiment at the same time my dad, Joseph Anthony Pulichene, another skinny Italian kid from NYC, served.  Although they were in different Companies and most likely never met, there was still a connection for me.  So out of respect for Tony, my dad, and all the others who served with them, I had to honor them in this awkward way and at that moment. 

Now my plot unfolds.  Having been there the night before, I planned where to sit for maximum exposure.  We got up within ten feet of the stage.  Planted our 26 inch tall folding chairs, opened our picnic basket, munched a bit and sipped our beverage of choice.  The concert was proceeding beautifully.  Even at age 84, Tony was at his best and the crowd was loving him.   People were dancing, singing and enjoying every word he sang and every note the band played. 

After building up the nerve to hold up the sign, I waited for the right moment when he was looking right at me.  The moment came.  It took Tony a brief second and then he smiled.  He looked at me, waved, gave me the thumbs up and threw me a kiss. I was totally thrilled and felt like a kid, grinning and beaming with delight.

When Tony finished his song, he pointed to me and the sign and explained to the audience the connection ….. that he served in 63^rd Infantry Division, 255^th Infantry Regiment during WWII.  I can’t remember all he said since I was frozen by the limelight but Tony was visibly appreciative of the gesture.

However, I was a little disappointed that he didn’t call me up on stage to join him in a duet.  Maybe next time.

I have to admit …..  that was one of the most meaningful moments in my life.  Not because Tony threw me a kiss, although that was pretty awesome, but because I was able to honor him and my dad and let them know that they and the other WWII veterans were not forgotten.   They are of a treasured generation that had sacrificed and accomplished so much.  We must not forget them and what they did for us so we can freely and safely enjoy an outdoor concert on a beautiful summer evening.  Hence the connection with Veteran’s Day

God bless them all!

Are We Salmon?

"They go not only from cradle to cubical, but then to the casket, without uncovering their greatest talent and potential", Tom Rath, Strength Finder.

I just finished reading Mr. Rath's well researched book and loved the concept.  The premise is summed up beautifully in another quote from his book. He and another researcher "were tired of living in a world that revolved around fixing our weaknesses.  Society's relentless focus on people's shortcomings had turned into a global obsession.  What's more, we had discovered that people have several times more potential for growth when they invest energy in developing their strengths instead of correcting their deficiencies."

In reading just the first 30 pages, it became apparent to me that many people who journey along the State of Being Cycle in pursuit of "Being" someone or something, may be pursuing an ideal or dream that is not in their arena of strengths.  We might be "fixing our weaknesses" versus developing our strengths.  Like swimming up stream, we may get there but with a lot of effort and it is very easy to slip back, giving way to the opposing current, hence the title of this blog.

In another aspect, some people may not take the plunge at all but just timidly waiting and not jumping from the State of Desire to the State of Being Cycle.  They know deep down that it is the wrong cycle to be on.  Perhaps it is not a question of being wrong or scared but just not knowing what is right.

Having gone thought the Strength Finder questionnaire and seeing the results, it becomes very clear that trying to achieve the attributes and traits we admire in others and aspire to acquire, may rob ourselves of those opportunities that are as clear as the nose on our face.  After gazing in my mirror, I realize that my own nose despite being a little pointy, is pretty darn good. 

Maybe in those moments where things are just not coming together, we need to step back and take a look at why.  I submit that perhaps we are needlessly trying to swim upstream.  Would it not be much easier to “go with the flow”?  Often we think that is going backwards and falling behind, but I also submit that the chances of surviving a Class V rapid is much greater going with it, not against it.

In the terrific true account of Teddy Roosevelt's epic journey down the "River of Doubt" (a book with the same title by Candice Millard), I found a perfect analogy.  At one part of this harrowing trip, a very wide and calm stretch of the river quickly narrowed to a space that a canoe could not even get through, bordered by high canyon walls.  The intensity of the funneled water increased exponentially into a powerful force that couldn't possibly be imagined.  Now think in term of your strengths.  How might they be channeled to generate a force that couldn't possibly be imagined?

Perhaps shifting to another State of Being Cycle …… one that plays to our strengths is certainly worth consider.

Mr. Rath also points out that strength is a combination of one’s natural abilities and the investment of time and effort to develop that talent (Talent + Investment = Strength). This makes perfect sense and the concept resonates with me.

I would like to add two things to that equation ..... desire and passion.  My interpretation is that talent is the fundamental ingredient and an obviously critical component.  Investing in your talent gives it the capacity to flourish.  To me, desire is the match and passion is the accelerant that makes things happen.  In my extensive study involving absolutely no data nor supporting clinical research, the degree to which a talent is fueled can turn it from a marshmallow-roasting campfire to a raging forest fire.  Without the fire of desire (sorry for the rhyme) and the accelerant of passion, talent could only be a pile of logs that once engaged could run out of fuel and burn out no matter how many logs you build upon.

Therefore, my equation is this ..... (Talent + Investment) x (Desire + Passion) = Strength

The moral of the story is that recognizing that you are on the wrong cycle is the best that can happen and the sooner the better.  Get on another that is flowing in your direction so you can glide effortlessly and swiftly propelled by your strengths.

Bottom line ….. we are not salmon after all.

God speed on your journey!

Recommended reading:

•   "Strength Find 2.0" by Tom Rath

•   "River of Doubt" by Candice Millard 

John Everybody: 1960 to 2013

I just attended a friend's brother's funeral.  A man I never knew but in the course of a beautiful hour-long service, grew to know who he really was.  I think people know us as we go through life but when opportunities arise like this when friends and families get a chance to testify, so to speak, the "realness" comes out. 

We all have someone like John in our families.  You do, I do. It is out of sincere respect for John and those like John that I write this.

John was just over fifty years old when he passed.  He lived his last few days in assisted living after years of suffering from an emotional, psychological illness.  He had a typical childhood, played sports in high school, traveled with his loving family, considered his father a hero and held his mother near to his heart.

The small Baptist church was crowded with family and friends, members of the church where the services were held as well as from other churches he was affiliated with over the years.  

As those at the service got up to say a little something about John, his life began to take form.  In reading between the lines, he was quite a character.  His quirks and idiosyncrasies were widely known and there was so much more meaning beyond the interruptions at meetings, constant questioning, and lengthy phone calls at all hours of the day and night. He was truly a constant in every life he touched.

The stories unfolded and his life took shape.  I found out that his smile was that of a toothpaste commercial and that he had a dry sense of humor, was intelligent, had a photographic memory, was reliable and trustworthy and made people think beyond their typical doctrines and beliefs. He was also extremely caring and often prayed to remember to be considerate of others and to be a better friend, son and brother.

Initially, I felt that people simply humored him or, worse, tolerated him but in reality he truly was an important part of their lives.  Many who gave touching testimonies, mentioned the empty chair where he once sat, missing his presence, no longer being able to rely on his unique ability to quote chapter and verse.  I did get a sense of genuine loss and the realization of whom John truly was.

It was amazing that within just an hour, John's life was appropriately described as he should be remembered not how he appeared to be. There were good-natured, gentle  laughter and heart-felt tears along with lots of warm smiles.

In our family, there was Uncle Stanley, my grandmother’s brother.  I only saw him a few times as a kid but never really knew him, being wrapped up with the self-absorbed nature of adolescence. How unfortunate.  Grandma never spoke much about him but occasionally I would catch her tearing up, knowing what a tortured life he led. 

He would visit my grandmother from time to time at our house in Wantagh, New York, where she lived with us for many years.  I have clear visions of them sitting at our small wooden kitchen table talking quietly and somberly.  He was the youngest and she cared deeply for him.

Uncle Stanley spent time in Bellevue, the New York City psychiatric hospital.  I remember passing its tall, bleak ominous structure with barred windows on trips into the city.  At the end, he lived by himself in a small apartment in Brooklyn where they found him dead.  I never really knew the story but there wasn’t much talk about the how’s and why’s.  It just happened and he was buried.  He didn’t have the testimonies from a church full of friends and families, just silent grief and tears from his older sister.

According to my grandmother, he wasn’t always like that. He was the life of the party, dashing, enjoyed camping, fishing and driving fancy cars. He was also married once and had a little girl whom he lost contact with over the years.  What happened along the way?

My grandmother had a term for Uncle Stanley and people like him.  She called them “lost souls” .... those among us who are constantly wondering, wandering, searching and wanting to belong ….  deeply saddened by it all.

So … John, Stanley and all the lost souls … be at peace now that you are no longer lost but in a place that recognizes and embraces your own unique greatness.  Know that you were valued, cared about and made a difference in people’s lives.  God bless you.  God bless you.  Be at peace.

Not too Late to Innovate

On the morning of April 8^th, 2013, I begrudgingly woke up to begin my morning routine.  Glazed with the lack of sleep, I pummeled my alarm clock undeservingly three or four times to get a few skinny minutes of interrupted sleep.

I stumbled to the coffee maker and hit the magic button to percolate the life-giving four cups of coffee that I pre-loaded the night before.  I then hit the button on my radio that sits on my living room floor with my big toe. It too is pre-programmed to NPR at a volume I am sure my neighbors don’t appreciate at that hour.

I need to be on autopilot most mornings to get up and out, so the less I leave to chance the better! 

In disbelief, I stared in the mirror to look upon a much older imposter.  After I got over my disappointment that he was really me, I brushed my teeth, shaved, showered and sipped some coffee, all the while listening to NPR and the local public radio station.

I enjoy the slow paced news reporting and comprehensive featured stories that replace the rapid fire, repetitive TV or typical radio news delivered by talking heads being constantly interrupted by annoying commercials.  Besides getting updated on the latest world crisis and the daily reminders of how our constipated elected officials can’t make decisions, the broadcast helps to facilitate the waking process and slowly turn me into a human being.

This particular morning, I was listening to an interview by Jeremy Hobson in his syndicated Market Place Morning Report.  It was with Tom Agan, managing partner at Rivia, a firm specializing in innovation and brand consulting.  The topic was innovation and, more importantly, what is the best age for innovation.

The refreshing message, clear and straight, … it is never too late to innovate and, in reality, those that are most innovative are a little long in the tooth.  So there’s not only hope but proof that folks in their forties and fifties can and do create new products,  … and to take it further … change careers, begin a new life, do something great or become someone they always wanted to be.

The key thread through Mr. Hobson’s story and the critical ingredient for innovation according to Mr. Agan’s research, is experience.  Once again, I go to my trusted counsel, Mr. Webster.  Experience means “a practical knowledge, skill or practice derived from direct observation of or participation in events or in a particular activity”.  More over, experien”ed” means “made skillful or wise through experience”.

My good friend continued to feed my frenzied search for confirmation by adding synonyms such as accomplished, consummate, crackerjack, expert, masterful, and my favorite … virtuoso.  Wow!!!   To think I was just getting older!!

“The real innovators average about age 40” stated Mr. Agan during Mr. Hobson’s interview.  He went on to say that the image of a young college kid in his dorm room concocting the next big idea like Mark Zuckerberg is a “total fallacy”.    Agan provided a true example of Steve Jobs who created the iPod and iPhone after many years of working in the industry.  His successes and innovations came after years of experience (aka trial and error) or graduating from the “school of hard knocks” as by grandma Julia used to say.  I am sure we all can come up with many, many more men and women who have mastered their trade and accomplished great things.  There are many, many more just waiting to explode with the next big idea or simply to make a foundational shift in their lives.

Now that I have proven without a shadow of a doubt that all of us baby boomers have the potential through extensive experience and knowhow to be innovative, why aren’t we?  Why aren’t we bursting into the boardroom with a company saving concept, or convince our spouse to move to Paris, or get that PhD we always wanted, or write that one great book that is in us?  Why? Why? Why?

Glad you asked!  Over several months, I wrote three bogs, titled “Catapult for Sale”, “Settling is for Rocks” and “Fear of Falling”.

In each, I tried to share my own reasons through personal experiences as to why I didn’t, on multiple occasions, cross that ocean of molten lava from wanting something (aka “State of Desire”) to making it happen (aka “State of Being Cycle”).   There are so many reasons and for each of us the reasons are so very personal and so very real.

In “Settling is for Rocks”, I contemplated my comfort with complacency and the usual.  In “Fear of Falling”, it was the gut wrenching, sweat drenching anxiety provoked by the unknown and potential failure.  

In “Catapult for Sale”, I shared my belief that if you do not engineer your own mechanism for change in the way you want, someone or some event may make a change for you and one that is not of your liking.

The moral of the story, according to this casual observer and “virtuoso” (Don’t laugh!!), is that experience and knowledge is only part of the equation for innovation and creation.  There needs to be that bee in your bonnet, thorn in your side, pebble in your shoe and/or burr under your saddle that makes you take the leap and begin your journey.

So, my graying friend, if you find the words “I am too old to be doing this” rolling off your tongue and passing through your lips …. think again, long and hard … while listening to your favorite tunes on your iPod!

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In case you don’t believe me, here’s the link to hear Jeremy Hobson’s interview with Tom Agan.

http://www.marketplace.org/topics/business/what-best-age-innovation.

Just a Walk in the Park - Remembered

One year ago to the day, I was back in Kathmandu after completing a two week trek to Everest Base camp.  Sadly as the days go by and as I get sucked back into my daly routines and the everyday pressures and stress that continue to mount, the memories are beginning to fade as everything does over time.  Pretty soon, the pictures that now adorn my office walls will become dusty and may no longer have the inspirational punch that they do now.  But anytime anyone asks about my trip, my eyes light and my smile emerges as does the slide presentation on my iPad ready to relive the true wonder that I was graced to experience.  So... to keep things real and alive and rekindle that moment in time, I wanted to regift an earlier blog that truly captured the essence and spirit if that trek.  One more take away ... it s time for another adventure!!

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On a bucket list trip to Nepal some weeks back, I couldn’t but take a few lessons from a simple walk in the park…. Sagarmatha National Park….. that is.  

Amazing to think that I was trekking through the Khumbu Valley in the shadows of the Himalayas and the great one, Everest, just a few days a go.  The visions are captured among the 1,200 plus digital pictures and the lasting impression of my experience etched permanently in my heart, mind and soul as the Buddhist prayers were etched on hundreds of ancient mani stones along the trail.

Before the grandeur of the 29,000 foot master, my take away and lessons learned were quite simple.   Here are but a few.

  1.)  Trust your feet.

a.     On steep terrain or slick, snow covered boulders, take one step at a time and let your feet do the walking not your mind. 

b.     If you are not sure, trust your instincts.  Don’t confuse reality with fear, worry and over thinking. 

  2 .)  You don’t have to be in front to lead.

a.     The best vantage point is often from behind as others ahead might take the wrong path, tire out or loose their footing.

  3.)  Don’t be complacent or a yak will knock you into the abyss.

a.     Keep vigilant even when you are lost in the moment, relaxed or distracted.   Don’t loose sight of what is around you.

  4.)  If you need help, ask.

a.     Asking for help is not a sign of weakness but one of strength and wisdom.

b.     After a very hard climb up Kala Patthar (18,200 ft) , I was just exhausted.  Knowing that the descent on icy rocks would be harder, even dangerous, when fatigued, I asked our Sherpa guide to help lead the way.  He was only glad to help.  I made it back safely!

  5.)  Sing even if you don’t know the words.

a.     Express your joy in any way you can.   Don’t be constrained by perfection or the lack of or even if someone doesn't like your singing!!

  6.)  Recognize beauty in every step.

a.     There is beauty in a snow covered mountain, an orchid near the ground, a yak bell‘s rhythmic sound, eagles gliding overhead, the bright colors of prayer flags flapping in the wind …. All are beautiful in their own way.  Don’t miss the chance to see things in their authentic and simple beauty.

  7.)  Remember why you are here.

a.     It is so easy to forget the purpose of your journey especially when difficulties arise.

b.     When you stop and remember why you have embarked on such a trip and traveled half way around the world, clarity will come.

  8.)  Be in and enjoy every moment.

a.     This moment will never come again.  All your senses are at attention only at this moment.  No picture or tale will ever capture it again as it was so truly see it, breath it, smell it, feel it and taste it.  Savor every second until it becomes part of who you are.

  9.)  Be humble and gracefully allow others to pass.

a.     Sometimes ego gets in the way and we may not want others to succeed.  Letting people pass does not diminish who you are and what you are setting out to accomplish.  Who knows … they may remember your act and help later in your journey…possibly when you need it most.
10.) Help if another has a heavier load.

a.     Everyone has too heavy a load to bear at times.  When you see relief in their eyes as you ease their burden, you know you have done a good thing.

  11.) If you fall, figure out why and do what you can to not fall again.

a.     Falling several times in one day, one would think I would have learned a lesson.   It took our lead guide to remind me to use my trekking poles that were safely strapped on my day pack.  It was simply amazing that I never fell again after heeding his advice.

  12.) Even the weak are stronger then you are.

a.     It is humbling to see a young Sherpa boy, half my size in flip flops carry five times the load I was carrying over narrow, bolder strewn trails.  This mental and physical toughness was witnessed over and over again.   I never felt so weak in my life.

  13.)  No matter how fast you go, the end is the same.

a.     Each day of the trek, there was a start and a finish.  It didn’t matter what day.  Some might have been longer but always a start and a finish.  It was amazing to me that when I was lagging behind, “smelling the roses”, I always reached the camp soon after those who hurried to get there.  Go figure.

  14.)  The journey of exploration is often more satisfying then reaching the summit

a.     Read the wonderful poem,  “Ithaka”, by Constantine P. Cavafy and you will understand.

  15.)   A smile is welcoming in any language.

a.     Not much more to say then a sincere and warm smile opens many doors in any culture.

  16.)   It is good to remember those you love and those you lost.

a.     As I experienced all the marvels of my trip, I often wanted to share what I have experienced with those I love.  I also wished those that I lost would be there too with me.  The joy and wonder I felt wasn’t just for me but for all those who made me and enabled me along the way.

I think sixteen lessons learned are enough except for one final ….. Sherpas rule!!!

Namaste!!

Two years ago, I posted this blog in honor of my dad.  Since that time a lot has changed in my life but the admiration of those like my dad still remain as strong as ever.  It seems fitting to republish this blog as it was but with one note.  I recently received an email from, Tammy Zimmerman, granddaughter of Joe Zimmerman, a soldier in Company L, 255th Infantry Regiment ... the same company and regiment as my dad.  She wrote a book in honor of him titled: "Blinded by his Shadow".  It is a wonderful account of her Granddad's journey through France and Germany as a member of "Love Company".   She never knew him because he died prematurely at age 36 but his memory lived on to such an extend that she needed to know more and proceeded to research and write a very detailed, accurate portrayal of what those boys experienced.  It was a great read on its own but I was deeply appreciative of the opportunity to understand a little bit more about my dad's journey and his experiences.  Thank you, Tammy!!


On this day, March 14th, 66 years ago, the morning report of Company L, 255th Infantry Regiment of the 63rd Infantry Division read, “Departed Sarrenguemines Fr WQ 522 2015. Arrived forward assembly area Muhlen Wald Germany WQ 5261 2215”.

The day before, the morning report stated, “Co. received special training in attacking fortified positions and night attacks”.

The boys knew they were in for something serious.

My dad, Joseph Anthony Pulichene, was one of those boys. He and his buddies in Company L were getting ready for an advance against a German position. He would have celebrated his 19th birthday just days before on February 28th. What was going through his head THAT day as he waited for THAT moment? “Will I see my 20th birthday?” … might have been one thought.

Unfortunately he passed away many years ago when I was 21. I didn’t have the chance to ask him what it was like during those days in March, 1945. Although he may not have even told me as many WWII vets often kept their experiences to themselves. They knew and it didn’t need to be said.

My daughter and I have been walking his footsteps by way of Company L’s morning reports, trying to understand where he was and what he was going through. Maybe it was receiving an information packed CD from a granddaughter of a fellow Company L soldier, or recently viewing Ken Burns emotional documentary, “The War”, or maybe it was watching “Band of Brothers” on the monitor attached to an elliptical machine at my gym yesterday, but reading these morning reports last night moved me in a way I can’t explain.

Joseph Anthony Pulichene was a simple foot soldier being asked, as his entire generation was asked, to do the unspeakable. I hold no fanciful image of him charging a machine gun nest with a grenade in each hand. No … I think of him just as my dad. The guy who worked every day to raise his family, watched the Ed Sullivan and Dean Martin variety shows, drank with his friends at the Knights of Columbus, coached my little league team and was the loudest parent in the bleachers cheering me on the HS football field. He lived a blue collar life so I could go to an expensive college prep HS and see me at least through the middle of my senior year in college. He never knew what college really was all about, but he knew it was good and he wanted it for me.

That’s the terrified, skinny kid I pictured, staring out on that lonely, vast field in Germany he was about to cross 66 years ago. Maybe smoking what could have been his last cigarette, maybe saying a Hail Mary while clutching the Blessed Mother medal around his neck that his mom gave him the day he shipped out or maybe he was horsing around with his pals to mask his fear. That’s the guy who was ready to do the impossible.

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Morning Report: March 17

Location: 1 ½ Mi N Neumuhlerhof Ger

Note: Nelson, Donald E (Pvt), Pulichene, Joseph A (Pvt), Flikerson, Karl T (Pvt) Above 3 EM dy to clr 363 Med Bn LWA Germany Trfd DOP 7th A 16 March 45

Translation: Joe and two buddies were transferred to a medical unit to treat wounds suffered the day before. He received a Purple Heart for a shrapnel wound on his left bicep.