Richard Borough

October 21, 2020 by Scott "Q" Marcus

Ironically, I might never have met him if it wasn’t for this column.

I had been publishing it for about five years when a woman in one of my meetings pulled me aside as the meeting ended. Almost in a whisper, as if not wanting to be a tattletale, she said, “I think somebody is plagiarizing you.”

“Why?” I asked.

She pulled from her purse a clipped article from the local paper written by Dr. Richard Borough, Ph.D. “Look at this,” she said, tapping the paper, “It’s the same thing you talk about in our meetings. You might want to call him.” The piece was about SMART goals.

“Thank you,” I said, “But, no, he didn’t copy me. That’s a common technique among those of us who work on goal setting.”

It was, however, enough of a prompt for me to reach out and introduce myself to him.

Richard ran a business support group, “Mastermind Alliance,” which he developed years prior when he was getting his practice on its feet in the bay area. When he moved to the Northcoast, he relocated its meetings, eventually expanding it also to the Central Valley. I had heard of it from business associates, almost always spoken of in hushed reverence; regarded as a blend of the “Million Dollar Circle” and the Who’s Who of local entrepreneurs. Great minds developed great concepts within its monthly get-togethers; only the best were invited.

Richard asked me to attend the first day we met. I don’t know if I was a “Great Mind,” yet I enjoyed the camaraderie, companionship, and supportive sharing. As my career morphed and changed, I no longer needed to attend; however, it remained on my calendar and whenever an open Wednesday made itself available, I was there.

Richard was at first a mentor, but as we worked jointly on projects, and discovered we had so many similarities, such as writing, speaking, marketing, and coaching; we developed a tight bond. He reached out to me for suggestions as often as I with him. It was inevitable that Richard and I became more than friends. I know the expression is somewhat overused, but he really did feel like a brother. I never had a brother, let alone an older one. Richard filled that role, as well as being a loyal friend.

For some reason unbeknownst to me, we didn’t go out often, only doing so on each other’s birthdays.

That was it, no more. Yet we never missed it. That unto itself was not so odd, but he insisted that we forever, every time, without fail, visit Oaxaca Grill and always order the same meal. We would do so on his birthday each year — and then again on mine. Despite suggestions from me, no other options were considered.

“Why do we always come here?” I asked. “Why not somewhere else?”

“I like this restaurant.” He replied simply as if that answered everything.

[Read more…]

I Lost Another Friend This Week

September 3, 2020 by Scott "Q" Marcus Leave a Comment

The ability to cope with loss is one of the most important life-skills we need as we age.

Bluntly put, either we die or those around us will die. If we go first, it doesn’t really much matter (at least to us). Yet that’s not the preferred option. Therefore, the longer we live, the more loved ones we will lose. If we cannot cope, we shrivel.

I don’t need to tell you that, especially in a year like this one.

Although you and I might appear to follow different trails, we’re actually traveling the same path. You’ve had losses. I’ve had losses. It’s a sad part of the universal human experience. With life, comes death; ain’t no way around it. Said new-thought singer Jana Stanfield in her song I’m not lost, I am Exploring, “All of us are headed for the same destination/ So why not blaze travel that’s got imagination.”

I’m now closer to 100 than I am to 30, and this is not as old as I plan to be.

So, I must look ahead and plan for what those future days will be like.

To do so, I – most likely as do you – look for inspiration from those with wisdom; in action, thought, or deed. My preferred role models have altered over the decades. When younger, with life stretched out in front of me, an unending highway vanishing over a far-away horizon; I sought career advice from those successfully earning their way in my field of choice, radio. Wanting a relationship, I took a seat at the feet of many successful in their pairings, querying them as to how they met, how they knew they were right for each other, and what kept them together.

In order not to live in fear at this age, I’ve now taken to looking for older role models; men who are healthy and active well into their later years. Over time, I’ve been inspired by Dick Van Dyke, Mel Brooks, George Bush Sr., and Jimmy Carter. (The difficulty I’m running into woefully is that the older I get, the fewer men I can find who are a few decades older than me.) Politics aside, these men show(ed) zest for life continuing to appear to welcome in each morning. By the way, they lead their lives, they sweep away doubt and fear for those who follow. They’re not perfect. They’re probably not fearless either. But it doesn’t matter. As Jack Nicholson said to Helen Hunt in As Good As It Gets, “You make me want to be a better man.”

Last week, one of my local role models, Everett Henkle, passed on.

Right up until he passed, Everett remained active. He had to be ordered to rest. Even in his eighties, he kayaked; worked to clean up our local highways, and volunteered at every event we conducted at the Center for Spiritual Living. He was first in line to move tables, sweep floors, mow lawns, or just hang with you and talk. Energizer bunny? Meet your human counterpart.

But it’s not just about how much one can accomplish. I was drawn to his joie de vivre — he was upbeat, aware, and engaging. (He also had great taste; he loved to read this column.) Finally, although he and his wife, Ruth, were a couple of decades older than my wife and me; seeing them together inspired us because we saw that “getting up there” didn’t mean romance must end.

I don’t want to paint a false image. Everett and I didn’t get together for coffee or go out to a movie or march in protests together. Truth be told, outside of events associated with the Center, the only other times I saw him were accidental; maybe if we bumped into each other in the store or something similar.

See, but that’s the thing. One doesn’t have to hang out with one’s role models in order to learn and be inspired. It’s their energy, the way they approach their lives, it’s their attitudes that speak to us. Being around them lifts us up.

Everett did that for me. I am more than I was and I am more hopeful because I knew him.

Possibly the saddest thing is on a Sunday morning when I’d greet him at the entrance to the Sanctuary, he’d say, “Another good column Scott.”

I hope I did you proud Everett. Thank you for being in my life.

About the author: Scott “Q” Marcus is a professional speaker and founder of www.ThisTimeIMeanIt.com, where he can be contacted for coaching, consulting, and presentations. During this social distancing period, he is conducting monthly on-line workshops on setting goals and getting past what holds you back. You can find out more at www.ThisTimeIMeanIt.com/intentions

She Attended Over 100 Funerals – And Found Life

August 29, 2018 by Scott "Q" Marcus Leave a Comment

I am delivering a eulogy of a close friend this week.

I know it’s an honor; albeit one I’d prefer not to have. Instead of standing in front of a room commemorating the accomplishments and celebrating his life, I’d rather be talking with him over lunch at the Marina. Alas, ‘tis not a choice. We take what’s given.

According to statistics, the average 40-year-old will have attended ten funerals by that age.

Of course, it increases where – if you’re so fortunate to celebrate your 90^th tour around the sun, you will attend no fewer than 50. I guess that makes me “lucky” in some fashion, since I can count those I’ve attended on one hand.

Although not backed by data that I could find, I assume most people attend memorials as a tribute to the one who passed, as a means to support the family, and/or as a ritual of closure. I highly doubt – with the exception of the two primary characters in the 1971 dark comedy, Harold and Maude – anyone attends because they enjoy it.

We do what we can to avoid them; very few of us have what it takes to continually be subjected to so many painful losses.

Until not too long ago, I would have said that none of us do.

That was prior to meeting a middle-aged foster mother from the South.

[Read more…]

The Gentle Giant has Fallen

June 13, 2018 by Scott "Q" Marcus Leave a Comment

James Hoff didn’t give up without a fight on anything.

So, when he told me that he was accepting hospice care, I knew he had given it everything he had.

“Jim” (which is what everyone who knew him called him) moved on last Sunday to whatever is next for his powerful, loving, large, expressive Spirit. He was 68. He was as large in life as he was in build, referencing his colossal stature as “five feet 17 inches.”

photograph courtesy of Mike Jones

To call him a “close friend” does not do justice to our relationship.

Although having moved to Texas several years ago, he remained my mentor, buddy, confidant, and sometime political sparring partner. He was the big brother I never had.

With the exception of direct family, Jim’s loss hits more harshly than any of the others I’ve written about over the last 14 years. Although relieved that he has been released of the suffering of his final months, I am saddened beyond words over the void left in many lives. Today the sun shines, yet light fails to penetrate. [Read more…]

Living A Life Entirely Surrounded by Love

May 23, 2018 by Scott "Q" Marcus Leave a Comment

Most of us don’t want to think about dying.

That news won’t garner a banner headline anywhere.

I’d go so far as to say we desperately attempt to sidestep the notion at all costs, illustrated in part by a society that’s fixated on youth and beauty, while ignoring the loveliness and wisdom ushered in by aging. A disavowal of our mortality is not necessarily a “bad thing;” it could be argued that to function on our day-to-day activities, we require a healthy dose of denial about our end. After all, if we spent too much time thinking about it, we’d never get anything done, rationalizing our dithering with, “Why bother? It’s all futile anyway.”

Yet, there’s no avoiding the Grim Reaper.

At a “certain age,” we need to pull back the curtain and face him, planning for his inescapable arrival. For whether we do or do not, he visits us all.

Recently, I attended a presentation by Dr. Michael Fratkin, director and founder of Resolution Care. In full disclosure, I actually met the good doctor years back as he and I shared the platform at a TEDx event. Back then, prior to establishing Resolution Care, he referred to himself as “a midwife for people on the way out.” Else stated, Dr. Fratkin specializes in the field of palliative care, a specific medical regimen for people with serious illnesses. Although not the same as hospice treatment, it’s my understanding that there is more than a small amount of overlap.

I’ll circle back to our meeting in a moment.

Watching Dr. Fratkin last week, it’s clear that he is the type of medical practitioner in short supply, exuding a warmth and genuineness that puts one at ease immediately; a trait important in any vocation, absolutely essential when dealing with frightened and suffering people (whom he refused to call “patients”). I was captivated by his empathy — I’d go so far as to say, “spirituality” — an attribute one doesn’t often associate with medical doctors.

His talk, although dealing with a frightening subject, actually offered a sense of relief. After all, we’re all on the freeway but few of us know what the offramp looks like. Dr. Fratkin gave us a road map, relaying the experiences and sensations of innumerable souls he has counseled on this path.

When I first heard Dr. Fratkin speak at the TEDx event, one of my clearer memories is a story of a woman about to give birth. What made her narrative so unlike those of countless others is that she and her family knew that their baby — due to a problem in the womb — would barely survive its birth. Dr. Fratkin relayed the account of the family nonetheless decorating the delivery room with balloons, flowers, and a “Welcome” banner. The entire clan was in attendance, despite knowing its soon-to-be tragic outcome.

Raven entered the world, and — as with any newborn — was embraced with joy, hugs, celebration, and comfort. One hour later she passed.

As they say, “there was not a dry eye in the house;” one could hear sobs from several people. “How sad,” thought we, “How can one have the strength to celebrate an experience so saturated with pain, loss, and disappointment?”

Dr. Fratkin continued (paraphrased), “You’re not seeing the whole picture. Imagine this from Raven’s point-of-view. What would YOUR life be like if — from the moment you were born until the second you died — you were totally, completely, one hundred percent immersed in love? All you understood, for your entire time on this planet, was Love. You had no fear, no judgement, no regrets. You were born, existed wholly in Love, and then passed. Can you conceive what that would be like?”

I can’t – but I’d like to try.

Sadly, it’s too late to say our lives have been exclusively encircled in Love.

We’ve been taken advantage of, let down, disappointed, hurt, insulted, taunted, and frightened.

If one looks at it a certain way, one might say Raven was blessed.

There’s nothing we can do about what has transpired. In my stronger, more balanced, mentally-healthier moments, I might go so far as to say they have helped shape us well. Nope, can’t go backwards… Yet, we can affect our present and our future, and that of those we know and will yet meet.

There is no situation where mixing in more Love and caring will make it worse, no matter how little or short-lived.

About the author: Scott “Q” Marcus is a THINspirational speaker and author. Since losing 70 pounds over 23 years ago, he conducts speeches, workshops, and presentations. He also coaches individuals and consults with companies on how to implement and handle change. He can be reached at www.ThisTimeIMeanIt.com or 707.442.6243.