Company party

Tonight, I went to my company's Christmas party as a guest, instead of partner. In a deep, recession-struck December, 1988, three men shared a single bottle of cabernet on Christmas eve - two young business partners and a sole employee, struggling downtown in a small loft office. As the new marketing company had hatched that year, glasses were lifted and toasts said for all good things to come at that first Christmas gathering. As the years passed, the holiday parties grew in size and quality as our children were added to the mix; and then later as the children became older, the gatherings became quite legendary and almost infamous for the tales of misbehaving and Christmas cheer gone one step too far into dark. The company grew and matured, and so did the holiday gatherings. When the two partners took on a third, the parties settled into a rhythm of solid catering, lively libations, and mature conversation, with employees, favored clients, business friends and all their spouses and or girl/boyfriends. The mix of folk was always interesting and surprising, and never dull. This year, I retired from the company that was started shortly after the new year of 1988. The party was hosted at the lovely home of my other senior partner, overlooking a a beautiful, frost-laden golf course, with festive, lights, candles and fires lit inside and out. As my wife and I made our entrance, I felt a bit as if I were at the wrong place. A quick glance around the room brought only fresh, new faces into focus, and then I saw the faces of old friends and associates. In making the rounds and catching up on office news, I realized the torch had indeed been passed; my life has changed, they have all moved on, and the new voices abuzz with new business and hope for a better 2011, gave me great joy and pleasure to witness. It was a happy, and satisfied group. For 22 years, I was fortunate to be blessed with the company of my business partners and all the individuals and employees who passed through the doors of C2. As one associate said tonight, "Rod, you had a hell of a ride." He was right. It was a hell of a ride, and tonight was a hell of a party.

Where do the years go?

Thirty years ago fate and my job put me in NYC December 8th, 1980, on the night John Lennon was murdered. I watched with a college room mate the lighting of the Rockefeller tree and the skaters in the plaza. we had cocktails at the top of the Rockefeller, parted ways, and I started walking back to the upper west side company apartment when I heard someone running up Central Park West, shout "John Lennon has been shot."  He was dead by the time I walked the ten blocks to the Dakota Apartments. I spent that evening across the street from the Dakota with many tearful mourners. It was so quiet, except for the sound of John's music softly playing, and sobs from the crowd. I stopped at a market nearby and bought a bouquet of roses to place at the gate. By dawn, the flowers were mounded twelve feet tall. Seems like yesterday. Where do thirty years go? Happy Christmas, John. Happy Christmas Yoko.