Rosh Hashanah Redeaux

A birthday apple for the world: Reflections of a Maastricht Jewish American on Rosh Hashanah and “The Days of Awe”

September 20, 2009

Faith is much better than belief. Belief is when someone else does the thinking for us.

-R. Buckminster Fuller

The advent of the autumn new moon marks Rosh Hashanah, which this year is 5770 of the Jewish calendar, and began at sundown on Friday, September 18, 2009, in the common era calendar. Rosh Hashanah starts the “the Days of Awe,” the most sacred ten day period in the Jewish year, ending with “the Day of Atonement”, Yom Kippur, a day of prayer, fasting and solemn contemplation. The period is a time when Jews reflect on the activities and behavior of the past year, questing to continuously develop as better individuals in the future, and seeking forgiveness for transgressions, not only from God, but also from one another, and not solely for ourselves, but also for the collective sins of our community.

Like so much of the Jewish culture – this idea of community is essential. Prayer and reflection are typically practiced in community in a temple or synagogue. I was raised in more secular household where Jewish traditions, rites and rituals were principally practiced in the home. The need to attend ‘services’ in a synagogue was not a cornerstone of my upbringing. Yet, like many modern Christians who only attend church for their high holidays of Easter and Christmas, I, too, enjoyed the rituals of these High Holidays as practiced in a synagogue.

Unfortunately, in Maastricht there isn’t a liberal or reform synagogue to attend. Here, the small Jewish community is rooted in an orthodox practice with which I don’t identify. Given the devastation of all European Jewry in the Holocaust, having even a small congregation of Jews is significant.

Synagogue in Maastricht, photo by Herman Pijpers

Nevertheless, I personally find it more comfortable to keep my faith in my own way. And so, I offer this reflection for others who also find themselves without the fellowship of their particular community at this sweet time of year so that they remember that faith can always be found within oneself, can be accessed at will, anytime and anywhere.

***

Rosh Hashanah is also referred to as “the birthday of the world,” a time when we ask to be inscribed in “the book of life”. In general, food and music are the arteries for the heart of a Jew, and the apple is deeply associated with our New Year. It is a tradition to dip the apple in honey to remind us of the sweetness of life at this time of year.

When I miss the opportunity to be with community to celebrate, I choose a few alternatives that encompass the spirit of the occasion. First, I listen to an incredible CD recording entitled, “The Birthday of the World: The Liturgy and Music of Rosh Hashanah”, narrated by Leonard Nimoy with astounding music. (Yes, Star Trek’s own Mr. Spock is a Jewish Vulcan, oh vey!)

After listening to the liturgy and music, I typically try to commune with nature. Nature is my concept of God’s cathedral, and in nature I am better able to think about my Judaism, my life and my wishes for the new year to come. One year, I found this nature in my own front yard – in my apple tree.

This apple tree had rarely been appreciated or eaten of. A city girl by upbringing, having a yard and trees was an entirely new experience. However, I found myself deeply drawn to touch my tree, to take from it the sweet burden of its fruit. And in the act of tending my tree I came to myself. Relieving the tree of its offering – apple by apple – I also found myself growing lighter. This act of quiet, deliberateness drained from me the weight of the day-to-day burdens we all carry. Both the tree and I grew lighter and this “mindful” activity seemed in keeping with the spirit of Rosh Hashanah – a time to stop normal activity, to reflect.

Another remarkable thing happened while I pulled and twisted the ripe, meaty fruit from its source. I found myself harmoniously in the midst of something I otherwise fear – bees. Dozens of bees had discovered the sweet sustenance of decaying fruit that had already fallen. In order for me to harvest my share, I had to work in their company. Typically, I am afraid of these honey-making, stinging creatures. Yet, for no reason at all, I felt quite safe, somehow knowing that they were merely going about their business and would leave me to mine. So, a second miracle accompanied the act of picking my tree – I worked securely with my own fear.

The third small grace to befall me, for surely all holy enlightenments happen in threes, was my sudden ability to tend only what needed to be tended at the moment. By nature, I am a bit of an overachiever. My desk is littered with five to twelve projects and in my profession as a communications consultant, I’m frequently interrupted, even when I do manage to be working on only one project. Phone calls, e-mails, colleagues, and my own thoughts are constant barriers to “being here now”. Suddenly, picking these “lowly” apples, I felt no need to do anything else. I was content quietly circling the tree, methodically finishing one area before moving to the next. It felt like a clear metaphor for beginning my new year in more balance and contentment.

And so, I came to my new year with a sermon of self, spun from the branches of a tree of life.

Now, at this time of year, I remember to perform a mindful act each day, fully aware of the moment, and in so doing, relieve a burden or two from this hectic life of hyper-drive. I try to acknowledge and honor my fears and learn to work with them, rather than waging hopeless battles against them. And, finally, I attempt to see the beauty and necessity of performing one thing at a time, leaving juggling to the talented acrobats of those charming European circuses that have gained such recent popularity.

Vaeshartelt Castle, photo by Herman Pijpers

Maastricht offers astounding nature almost within her city boundaries. Limburg is graced with a contemplative beauty that allows one to find sustenance in God’s outdoor sanctuary. Community, indeed is where we create it. If each of us carries the spirit of our faith every day, practicing it year-round, we can find sanctuary in the heart of each human being, each element of nature, remembering that it is not where you are, but who you are that inscribes us in the book of life. I wish for everyone everywhere in the world, a sweet “New Year”.

by Susan Schaefer
Schaefer Communications, LLC

In Memory of Peter Tasch, beloved mentor and friend

Peter A. Tasch, scholar, mentor, friend

I can almost see The Scriblerian Office on Berks Mall at Temple University. It was a third floor walk up and our desk was toward the back where a door opened onto an authentic fire escape. It was nice having a door in those old brick offices to catch some small breeze in the days before air conditioning. I can still see Peter sort of bumbling about the cramped space, eyeglasses propped atop his head, turning to me to ask if I’d seen them anywhere. I had found my own absent-minded professor and I loved his gentle, quirky genius.

In 1968 I was a work-study student at Temple. My first assignment had been working as a Spanish-speaking caseworker at Temple University Hospital where I worked with a predominantly Puerto Rican pre-teen pre-natal population. That had been a good job but as a serious English literature major, I had wanted something more in my field. I applied for a position as the ‘office manager’ at an 18th Century Scholarly publication of Temple, The Scriblerian, and was interviewed by a most temperate and shy editor, Professor Peter Tasch, who hired me on the spot. This position was the beginning of more than a job but a lifelong friendship and mentorship that continues. Peter passed on July 24th, 2010, but my relationship with his wife, Alison, daughters Kate and Alex, son Jeremy and their extended families is a great blessing in my life.

My childhood in Mt. Airy, then a developing brick row home ‘enclave’ that sprawled across the northeastern border of the city of Philadelphia on what used to be farmland, was devoid of what one would call intellectual stimulation. I was born to an older father who had only a third grade education, coming as he did from an immigrant family that was raised, as he liked to say, in the ‘school of hard knocks’ in a turn-of-the-twentieth century Brooklyn ghetto. My dad was
super smart but under-educated. And my mother, who delivered me as her only live birth at the advanced age of 40, had suffered what was then undiagnosed post- partum depression. As was common in that era of evolving mental health, she was treated with a regime that included uppers and downers and even electric shock therapy, resulting in irreparable damage to her physical, mental and emotional wellbeing. She, like my dad, had been incredibly bright, having had a brief career as a supervisor during World War II at Philadelphia’s war munitions’ plant, the Frankfort Arsenal, but having been raised in an orphanage, she too had only attained a third grade education. This left me an inheritor of great intellectual potential but limited experience.

And then I met Peter.

As an 18 year-old I entered university life with a boundless academic appetite sans scholarly discipline. That Peter hired me to work at his most scholarly journal still mystifies me, but from our initial contact we clicked and thus began a most unlikely friendship that has lasted over time and distance.

As office manager of The Scriblerian I was responsible for maintaining the journal’s vast database of libraries which back then even included universities behind the iron curtain. Part of my job was to literally address, package, and send each issue of the journal insuring that it made it to each university library possible. Contact with scholarly contributors was another part of my responsibility and Peter praised and appreciated my organizational skills and cogent and professional communications. These skills were honed and rewarded by his generous guidance.

Peter never wielded his intellectual prowess but rather gently wooed me, and countless others who came to adore his gentle wisdom and quirky humor, by example. While I never became one of his students, preferring the Chaucerian and Shakespearean eras to his beloved 18th century, I nevertheless considered myself Peter’s protégé. In more general terms I was very much a baby duckling imprinted by his calm manner and sheer intellect: his qualities that shaped me for life. Peter took on an informal role as my protector from his somewhat crusty ‘business’ colleague whose abruptness could be quite abrasive and intimidating. The verbal onslaught often brought me to tears but Peter was always there afterwards to explain in calm and clear terms how to rectify any mistakes I may have made. Such patience and professionalism influenced me for life.

Additionally, in those days Peter’s wife, Alison, worked at Temple and through observing their relationship I came to understand and admire what I considered an educated and refined family life. I venerated their relationship and their family.

Always an industrious if not quite brilliant student, Peter found many extra- curricula tasks for me at Temple, including appointing me as the graduate student head of tutors for Temple’s maverick English Language Enrichment Center (ELECT) that helped disadvantaged students to improve their language skills in order to matriculate. Peter so trusted me that eventually the Tasch family allowed my good friends to become their summer home sitters whilst they vacationed at their upstate New York farmhouse retreat.

Thereafter, I simply adopted and was adopted by the entire family. I have become life-long friends with each Tasch child, and in what became a full circle from my apprenticeship with Peter, the youngest daughter Alex came to work an intern for my public relations firm.

At home with the Tasch clan and chef, my friend, Nancy Carolan, Thanksgiving 2008

The Tasch family has been a constant in my life for over 40 years, and I feel the loss of Peter deeply alongside each member. I was blessed by having a mentor with the qualities and charisma of Peter Tasch and attest that his influence has helped me become the person I am today. A light has gone out among us.

The Purr of a Cat

Here's short film, actually a moving poem entitled, The Purr of a Cat that I wrote (and here narrated) as the preface quote for the upcoming book: The Adventures of Yin & Yang: Snoepje and the Pizza Box scheduled to be released this coming autumn, 2010. I hope you like it!

A New Venture and a new web page

Hello everyone. Something creative is afoot. I'm working again, and I'm loving it. My dear friend Michael Putman , Putman Illustration & Design is the wind beneath the wings of my joy as through his incredible talents in the collaboration of a book - MuseRiverProductions is born!

Please check out our new web page and look for further information on The Adventures of Yin & Yang: Snoepje and the Pizza Box which will be available this fall! I am so happy. And I know Martijn's spirit is too.

An Illustrated Book to Honor Martijn

The Adventures of Yin and Yang: Snoepje and the Pizza Box

Written by Susan Hermse Schaefer

Illustrated by Michael Bower Putman

Translated into Dutch by Juliette Van de Aa

Martijn slipped his human coils two years ago on July 25, 2008 but his spirit still fills me and many others with the joy he created. In 1999 I penned a simple story for Martijn as a gift for father's day - a tale of three tails - the story of how we became a family via loving our precious furry critters, Yin, Yang and the saucy kitten Snoepje. Now my friend, brother-in-spirit, and collaborator, Michael Bower Putman has breathed new life into my amateur drawings. The Adventures of Yin and Yang: Snoepje and the Pizza Box will soon become a published book with Michael's vivid illustrations. And, the text will be in English and Dutch, Martijn's mother tongue. Martijn adored the original book as he adored life itself. And the Adventures of Yin and Yang honors that lifeforce - quiet yet dynamic. If all goes well, this will be the first of a series of tales of tails. A portion of profits will support animal rescue, something Martijn truly would have appreciated. So on this second anniversary of Martijn's passing I'm finding the light and love and support to transform my sorrow into creativity.

On Martijn's 58th Birthday

Happy Birthday, my love. Today Martijn would be 58. This photo taken by our dear friend, David F, at one of the many good bye parties hosted for out leave-taking from Minneapolis when we headed to Maastricht in the summer of 2004. David resent me the photo with this lovely thought: "This picture always fills me with the joy of Martijn's playful, easy presence. It is one of life's great mysteries that I feel it still, as I know you do, my dear Suze. On this day of days, let us bask and be grateful that we were - and are - so blessed." Let us raise a glass to all of of our dear ones whose presence continues to evoke so much joy.

Days of Future Past

Meet me on South Street, hurry on down...

South Street Royalty: Susan with then husband Bob Ingram

and illustrator/author, Charles Bordin, struttin' South Street, circa 1981. ©Nick D'Aquanno

As I settle into life back in the US of A, I'm able to spend more time reestablishing contacts and context. For one brief shining period that was known as Camelot, my husband Bob Ingram and I owned an amazing bi-weekly newspaper, the SouthStreet Star. Those were wild and wooly times in the early eighties when the buzz and fumes of the late sixties and seventies were fresh. Alternative newspapers provided a critical link between the corporate and sometimes monolithic coverage of what was then the hay day of corporate news, whether it was print or media. There were basically three daily newspapers in Philadelphia at that time: the morning paper - The Philadelphia Inquirer, it's more 'earthy' or more 'blue collar' sister - The Philadelphia Daily News, and the grand old dame of Market Street - The Philadelphia Bulletin. Papers like ours were the blogs of the time. We had barely any funds but we had buckets of fun. And chutzpah! We had loads of that too. We checked our facts and went for the stories that dailies and weeklies didn't have the luxury of covering.

George Thorogood ©Nick D'Aquanno

Long interviews with South Street Rockers, for example, including guest rockers like George Thorogood were par for our course. In October Ruth Snyderman, Julia Zagar and some other formidable South Street nobility are planning a reunion. I'll post more when I know more. In the meanwhile, hurry on down, meet me on South Street, the hippest street in town.

Pompano Beach Renovation

It has been a wild and wooly 10 days. Rob McMahon and his excellent team from Island Remodeling have literally ripped the house from under me. I found them through a referral from Annette, the lovely woman I bought the house from. They began demolition a few days before I arrived, ripping up the old carpet, pulling out fixtures and appliances, removing a rotted entire downstairs front wall, scrapping off the outdated 'popcorn' ceiling spray, and finally riveting up the downstairs tile. All that remains of any original portion of this casita are the concrete side walls and the foundation. There is a spanky new "European" water heater that provides instant hot water and doesn't needlessly heat an entire tank. There will be new tile floors downstairs and in the master bath, new bamboo wood floors throughout upstairs and on the steps. Recessed lighting throughout was installed today. The kitchen is beech with lots of storage and deep drawers from Ikea. All appliances are the highest energy efficiency available including a small European Bosch washer and dryer. Basically, this will be as 21st century a home as one can make on a moderate budget. Here's a photo essay to date:

Look at the biker's babe - goggles on the pup. Cindy and I caught them and I couldn't resist snapping the big guy on his big bike and the little lady!

Appliances gone; closet door moved; ceiling fans gone

Kitchen stripped; front wall demolished - rot exposed

Hard step!

Closets stripped in Master Bedroom

Master Bath to the pipes

Guest bath spared the pillage!

Guestroom/Susan's office view

Ikea Kitchen Cabinets, beech; sample granite counter

Ikea haul - Rob and Chris speed pull!

Rob and Chris - the Ikea "A" team - they pulled faster than Ikea's own guys!!

Rob loads the Island Remodeling van - I got to ride shotgun.

To Floor and Decor - the downstairs and master bath selection: Italian ceramic.

Downstairs old tile gone!!!

Today, May 14th, Floor and Decor deliver!

My hero, Wayne takes on the heavy task of moving the tiles inside!

My Brother, Allen Schaefer, 1928-2010

My brother, Allen Schaefer, passed quietly last night. During the past years we had shared much affection and attention. His son, Roy, was with him much in the last days. He is also survived by his daughter, Jill, and his wife of over a half century, Beryl. I will miss his humor and his poetry, but most of all his deep wisdom.

Almost Moving Day

A Poem In Remembrance and Anticipation

Almost Moving Day

I unplugged the fountain
its reassuring gurgle now silenced.

The plants take up residence
at the mother-in-law’s later -
my leafy children off to foster.

Knickknacks and tchotchkes
pruned, scattered to friends -
small memory gifts of going.

The purge is painful
yet therapeutic -
a peek at the waste of want.

But your precious items -
notes written in that wise hand,
the letters clear as a mountain spring;
the eyeglasses that framed your
noble nose, sat upon your chiseled cheeks,
the comb that slid through your graying hair,
your toothbrush, dear,
that touched those teeth
that my tongue oft lapped
when we lay in deep embrace;
your silk royal blue boxers - so sensual,
the ‘bumblebee’ stripped cotton ones -
so humorous;
these, dear, I’ve placed like treasures
in one small drawer to accompany
me to the new world.

©Susan Schaefer 2010

Yesterday was the birthday of playwright August Wilson, who said: "Confront the dark parts of yourself. ... Your willingness to wrestle with your demons will cause your angels to sing."

The love continues

A visit to Martijn's grave on this sun lit sping morning, the 79th birthday of his mother whom I brought a lovely bouquet earlier. A meditative break from non-stop preparations for my upcoming move next Thursday.

Communications Ethics

Communications Ethics

Public or Private:

Institutions Need Communications Ethics

Author's Note: This article was written on July 29, 2001 prior to the key events that have defined personal and professional life in the subsequent decade: 9-11 and the current fiscal debacle. At that time I was an adjunct faculty member University of St. Thomas Graduate School of Business, Minneapolis, Minnesota, USA, and the past president Public Relations Society of America, Minnesota Chapter. The company referenced was a major health care system, providing relevance in light of America's current bold health care initiative. I have added it to my Schaefer Communications website as well.

Allina Health System responded to the investigation of its operations by hiring outside communications consultants. Articles in the Star Tribune raised issues about the merits of this practice; a subsequent commentary piece struck an apologist chord for communications consulting.

Both parties miss the point. The real consideration is not whether organizations hire external expertise, the issue is about ethics, the role of professional communications, and the public’s right to know. Imbedded here is a sublime irony in the intense scrutiny of public organizations and relative disregard of private companies.

Professional communicators are in a unique position to guide overall decision-making at all levels of organizations, whether as insiders or outside counsel. A practitioner’s purest role is to track and analyze global and local issues, attitudes and trends, aligning the policies and procedures of an organization accordingly.

How do they do this? As was the case with Allina’s outside counsel, they use internal and external research, analyze the data, make recommendations that detail the impact of actions on the organization, and design communications programs to implement these recommendations, including how to respond to the media.

However, if Allina had and/or used a qualified senior communications officer in an executive management position of equal power and standing with its legal, financial, and operations executives, it could have avoided the problems that sparked the controversy to begin with. Hiring outside counsel to help in a crisis isn’t wrong. Allina’s seeming lack of dependence on ongoing ethical executive-level public relations practice is.

Lack of full and open disclosure about their operational practices, failure to cooperate with authorities, the arrogance of top management, are all aspects of the organization’s poor public relations. And least your reading public think that Mr. Quimby’s commentary speaks for our profession, it is never our role to “push the bounds” in any direction that is outside that of the public interest!

Many communications professionals, particularly those who choose the voluntary public relations accreditation (APR) offered by such national organizations as the Public Relations Society of America (PRSA), are committed to a professional Code of Ethics that includes such precepts as: “conducting their professional life in accord with the public interest; never intentionally communicating false or misleading information; and never engaging in any practice which corrupts the integrity of the channels of communications or the process of government.” It is their role to insure that the organizations they serve follow suit.

Unfortunately, it seems that Allina and many organizations use their professional communicators as mere order takers rather than the reputation managers they are trained to be. Worse, many practitioners aren’t trained or don’t adhere to these standards.

Professional communicators use methodology and theory from such social sciences as sociology, anthropology and psychology, to determine human behavior. They study journalism, economics and organizational development. The best and brightest are trained to think and anticipate. It is their job to help organizations link and apply their findings to the legal, operational and economic aspects of the organization. This advice and counsel provides the ultimate vehicle for organizational success because it directs its gaze outside the organization and holds high an ethical perspective.

Yet, what makes the news are the misuses or transgressions of the profession. As in any field, there are good and bad public relations practitioners and good and bad public relations practice.

This gets us back to the question about public vs. private disclosure. It is naïve to demand less from private institutions than from public ones. How outdated this mindset seems. The very technology that many private organizations use to their marketing advantage holds the equal and opposite disadvantage (their view) for full and open disclosure of operations. Only the most proprietary data need be protected in our information-driven world.

Forward thinking CEOs understand that reasonable maximum disclosure creates trust with their multiple constituencies. Trust leads to credibility. And credibility builds a positive reputation or image. Nothing sells their products, services or stock better than a positive reputation. Communication professionals are uniquely trained and qualified to serve the role of reputation manager within an organization. Bringing such counsel into the mix as part of business as usual will keep organizations more in the favorable court of public opinion and less in the expensive courts of law.

Reflections on Turning 60

Suze and Pia at Ipanema Party, April 3, 2010

Suze and Sandra celebrate in Limburg's mellow countryside

April 5, 2010

Privileged to be with Sandra and Maurice's family, Levi, 11 and Britt, 10

It has been a monumental birthday, beginning with my trip to Florida, buying a new home there, reconnecting with friends and family, to returning to my home for the past almost six years here in Maastricht, Limburg, the Netherlands.

Transitions ideally should be made with great intentionality; some, of course, overtake us, like Martijn's illness and death. But even then if we prepare ourselves we can and should develop the awareness necessary to experience/feel the changes, integrate the feelings (sorrow, joy, fear, even neutrality), and hopefully transcend them. It is said that those who cannot feel deep sorrow can also not experience great joy. And so, I admit freely the depth of my continued sorrow at simply not having Martijn's joyous being by my side for this historic birthday anniversary. However, please don't mistake this sadness for depression; I am embracing the next phases of my life; I am sensing how much happier I would be if I could share it with Martijn; and, I nevertheless also am grateful for all the blessings I have.

Incorporate and transcend: I now will work with great intent to build on all I have in order to create a solid and wise next foundation. Thank you to all my dear friends and family for your amazing and continued love and support.

An afternoon with Jacques Ogg: Maastricht’s early music maestro returns to his roots

Back Story: Here is article I wrote for Crossroads Magazine last July 21, 2009, about my dear friend, Jacques Ogg, who performed for my 60th birthday. I am blessed.

An afternoon with Jacques Ogg: Maastricht’s early music maestro returns to his roots


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Hitting the 60s in style

April 3, 2010 Susan celebrates her 60th birthday

at the Ipanema Cafe on the River Muese

in Maastricht.

Susan accepts a birthday toast offered by Bob while family and friends look on.

My dear friend, Sueli Brodin, kindly captured the evening (click to see photo album) which featured a concert by Jacques Ogg, Pia Brand and La Rosa, as well as duos by Bonnie and Piet and Sandra and Maurice, followed by dancing to Mowtown Sounds into the wee hours.

Entering the Seventh Decade in Style

Tonight here in Maastricht I'll celebrate 60 years of life in a wonderful cafe situated along the River Maas with about 60 people. There is a certain symmetry in this. We will enjoy each other's company, conversation, performances, good food and drink, and dancing, dancing, dancing.

Finding Family

In this short video, my brother, Allen Schaefer, waxes eloquent over a snippet of our dad's history. This was shot in August 2008 at Allen's home in Allentown (a big joke of his that they named an entire city after him) Pennsylvania. Now Allen is critically ill so join me in however way you feel comfortable to send healing his way.

Signed, Sealed, Delivered!!!

Susan signs the new home contract while Stacy from the title company looks on.

Annette and Suze shake.

Nitza Ramos, my fabulous realtor, and Suze celebrate at the beach!

My lovely friend and host, Cindy and Missy Cuda relax at home.

Signed, sealed, almost delivered

On the right, with the lovely palm in front, my future home in Sun Harbor.

The back yard is roomy and inviting.

Can you picture a small koi pond with waterfall under the palms?

Soft lights, fire torches, great meals await!

After a rather shocking reveal at the previous property's home inspection, karma led me to a rather new listing at Sun Harbor. The house is located in the same quadrant where Cindy lives, the section closest to the Atlantic Ocean where the back yard faces. It was love at first sight and we made an offer on the spot. As fate would have it, this is the home of a friend of Cindy whom I met last year. She has lovingly maintained this Bahamian like cottage and I assured her I will do likewise. The inspection is set for Tuesday, and closing on Friday!

Family, Friends and Real Estate

FAMILY

Life's events converge and flare out again. During the past difficult years my brother, Allen Schaefer, has been a great comfort to me. We've spoken once or twice a week and since Allen is 23 years older than I, he's provided the kind of wisdom, love and support that I imagine our dad would have. Now Allen is ailing and I'm very sad. Since I'm making a sudden trip back to the States for business, I hope to see him.

My brother, Allen Schaefer, at 80, 2008.

FRIENDS AND REAL ESTATE

A year ago I began to search for a home to own back in the States. I stayed a few weeks with my friend Cindy and decided that Pompano Beach, where Martijn and I always spent our wedding anniversary was a good place to sink roots. My parents moved to Central Florida in 1973, while I was on a spiritual journey throughout India. Since then I've flirted with Florida. Martijn spoke longingly of Pompano, and now, it seems, I'm about to own one of their cozy townhomes, a fifteen minute walk to the beach. I plan to stay based in Maastricht a while longer, but will gradually customize my little place in the sun for longer stays.

Sun Harbor Townhomes sit just north of 844 and west of the Intercostal Waterway.

Cindy and friend, on Cindy's dock, Sun Harbor Townhomes, Pompano Beach, Florida, April 2009

The welcoming sign.

Sun Harbor's Pool

Long view of Sun Harbor's Marina