It was August 1962 and I was eleven years old.  New Jersey in the summer was hot and school was going to start in a month. My father, mother, sister and I were getting ready to head to Lake Sunapee, New Hampshire for a vacation with mom’s parents.

My grandparents lived in Boston and I have memories of going to Fenway Park to watch the Red Sox-Yankee double headers.  I would take the streetcar near Sutherland Road to Fenway.  These were days of innocence and fun, but I realize now that I have always had to manage anxiety.

Worry wasn’t in the air that day as we piled into the new brown Mercury Comet and headed to New England.  I remember my father driving, mom in the passenger seat, my sister Marion and me in the back.

We drove on the New Jersey Turnpike which maybe the most disgusting road in the US.  Back then it was normal to breathe in the gasoline stained air from all the refineries. It was normal to have endless construction at the Newark Airport.  New Jersey air pollution was part of the landscape like fireflies blinking after fire works would explode.

It took us about seven hours to drive to New Hampshire.  My grandparents probably were as old as I am now-late 60’s and they were really cool; much cooler than my parents.  My grandmother started one of the first nursery schools in America.  My grandfather was a shoe salesman who could beat anyone on earth at horseshoes.

They bought a white Mustang convertible with blue bucket seats when it was unveiled in 1964.  They both dyed their hair to keep the gray out.  They were young in spirit.

My mother was a grade schoolteacher and my dad had a sales job in New York City which he took the train to each day.

We met at what I assumed was a resort at Lake Sunapee.  It had a huge dinning hall and other families were there.  We played table tennis (ping pong) which my father beat me at several times per day.  We went swimming and I put my face in the water for the very first time.  We picked blue berries and we all stayed in the same room.

One morning, I cast my eyes on a slim hipped girl with long black hair who was laughing with her friends.  I spent hours thinking about how I was going to approach her.  She was a picture of pure beauty to this pre-pubescent boy.  I was afraid to say hello to her. I was shy but didn’t really know that was a thing.  I understand now that my hesitance was fear that she would ignore any attempt to contact her.

I remember walking across the lawn headed to dinner; thinking that she is too beautiful for me and there is no way she would be interested in this blond haired, buck toothed boy from suburban New Jersey.

It was time to pack up and head back home because vacation was over.  I loved rock and roll beginning at an early age.  I was listening to the radio and I was immediately drawn to what was pouring out of the tiny transistor speaker.  The song was just released, and it was called Sherry by the Four Seasons.  The falsetto voice of Frankie Valli, the harmonies and the mood of the song was ecstasy.

I created a story that became bigger every moment.  My family would be driving across the George Washington Bridge and Sherry would come on the radio.  My father would drive under the bridge and would pull up to a place that overlooked the sunset.  This piece of paradise was filled with bright green grass and surrounded by trees.  The girl from Lake Sunapee would suddenly emerge and would reach for my hand.   The smile on my face would light up the world and I would cry tears of joy.  I would never, ever leave this place and she would be with me forever more.

This fantasy was replayed over and over again as we drove back home.  We reached the bridge and Sherry didn’t come on the car radio.  I’m not sure what song was being played, but it wasn’t that one.  We reached the New Jersey side and kept on going.

I was devastated that my fantasy didn’t come true.  I knew deep down inside that it was only a dream created while awake.  I knew that the Hudson River ran underneath the bridge and there was no green place to have this sacred meeting.  I didn’t even know her name.  Maybe I thought I would see her in one of the cities nearby the bridge like Fort Lee, Washington Heights or Harlem.

I kept this whole scenario to myself for years.  It touched upon how lonely and isolated I had become after my dad died when I was fifteen.  I also reflect how fearful I was to take the risk of actually talking to this girl.  I was risk adverse for many years and things happened along the way to change that.

The promise of better days ahead is rooted in this memory. The miracle of overcoming fear of taking a risk happened while I was in college.  I thought I was too dumb to get good grades, so I stopped trying in fifth grade.

I was taking a month long class titled The Fiction of Utopia.  I decided that I would put forth one hundred percent effort in this class.  The risk was obvious:  If I did well, I could declare that I was intelligent enough to do well in this class and could do well in other courses.  If I flunked, then I would have to face the fact that I was not very smart and consider dropping out of college.  I would have to consider my pervious job as a fry cook.

The teacher informed me that I aced the class!  I was elated.  I have my wife Gail and her mother Lavay to thank for supporting me.  This was around 1970 which was two years before we were married.

Taking the first risk was the most important one because it allowed me to take others.  The act of asking Gail to be my girlfriend was a huge risk.  I though she was beautiful, intelligent and confident.  I believed I had none of these qualities, but she has been my soul mate for almost forty eight years now.

I decided to establish my own business and work as a therapist in private practice in 1987.  I was afraid to let go of the security of working for a community based program, but I am so glad I took this risk.  I love working with children, teens and adults.  I love being my own boss.  I love learning about the art of therapy.

I wrote my first book in 2002.  I have written four more since then and am now working on a mystery.  The books have obtained praise from all over the country.

Taking risks lead to personal freedom, a sense of safety and joy. I believe I’m just getting started and you can learn to overcome taking risks too.