WHEN YOUR CALLING DID CARRY ON IN MY JOURNEY

In high school, I was definitely reserved; ok, more shy and socially awkward than the social introvert I am today. I was a newbie, as most of my fellow classmates knew each other since elementary or at least middle school and here I came into their realm in Grade 8, where I really didn’t make many friends. By the time I began my freshman year of high school, I was already working part-time at the local YMCA after-school and really didn't get involved in extra-curricular activities that took place after-school.

Over the first few months, I made friends with a few classmates who I sat with at lunch.  A few were much like me and a couple were less socially awkward but by all means did not fit in the popular and cool kids cliche.  Out of this small niche, I am still touch with two of them.  I consider one of them my closest friends, almost like a brother, though he no longer lives in South Florida.  The other is a very close friend, though we don't talk as often, we pick up conversation as we didn't skip a beat.  She, too, no longer lives in South Florida.  

I don't recall who recruited me to be part of the class cabinet, a leadership club much like student council but on a grade level.  They said its were all the popular and cool kids hung out and I can begin to make more friends.  Even a few teachers steered me towards getting involved with the class cabinet or other extra-curricular activities to meet others.  Although my involvement was limited to activities held during the school day or weekends due to my job responsibilities.  I joined the class cabinet and it was here I was introduced to Mrs. Sandra Carrion. I was offered opportunities to participate and support the efforts of the class cabinet in ways I could with my limited time availability.

I never had Mrs Carrion as a Spanish teacher and only got to know her only as the class cabinet faculty sponsor.  As I recall, It was not until my junior year of Spanish, my teacher required her class to visit other “countries” (aka the other Spanish teachers) and have our “passports” stamped by having conversations in Spanish as part of a class grade requirements. I can barely handle speaking my native tongue of Hungarian let alone grasp Spanish.  This is when I got to know Mrs. Carrion on a more one-to-one level through our "passport" conversations . With her patience, prompting and perseverance, I passed my Spanish class as she made me want to do nothing but my best and ultimately I became more engaged in the class cabinet.

Cheers to you Mrs. Carrion, for the incredible human being touching not just my life but many of my friends and generations of others. Your sincere love for teaching and the students in a friendly yet no-nonsense approach left little room for any inappropriate behavior issues to arise.

It is with my honor, I present to my acrostic poem sharing my story of the difference she made in me.  With love from one of your forever grateful students, from the great class of 1988, South Broward High School!

 

=========   

 

Speaking Spanish was not my thing, nor had you as a teacher,
But I was part of the graduating class of eighty-eight,
Here I had the pleasure to get to know you and then you, me.

Seems like it was only yesterday when all of this happened,
Being in class cabinet, your impact left a streak in me,
Until recently, I never even gave it second thoughts.

Looking back on my legacy filled career, it all made sense,
Leadership, public speaking, teamwork, fundraising skills and more,
Developed many of the skills I needed for my career.

Our friendship of teacher and student grew over the years,
God blessed me with only the best to join me in my journey.
Since I still lived in the area, I tried to keep in touch.

Stopped by when I could, catching you up with my life’s happenings,
Even though visits were infrequent, brief and not quite enough.
Never felt anything less than welcomed, like close family.

Over the years, on campus visits became more difficult,
Reminiscing my high school days is all I thought I had left,
As offsite get togethers were difficult to coordinate.

Some of my darkest days, you helped me find my light once again,
Always available to lend me your compassionate ear,
Not knowing how much that meant, I can’t thank you enough today.

Dreading the days, I came to get my class “passport” stamped by you,
Rarely, I was able to carry a full conversation,
Albeit, patiently you helped me through those dreaded minutes.

Cheerfully, you greeted us with your warm welcoming smile,
Allowing us to come as we were and helped us find ourselves,
Reaching out, by offering a helping hand or a lifeline.

Real teachers knew it’s not always of classroom lessons learned,
Instead, it’s the knowledge gained to become better citizens,
Only those lives you touched know the difference you created.

Not knowing, when you answered the calling you heard long ago,
Those impacted yesterday, still speak fondly of you today.
You helped make my high school days not just easier but better.

Cherished memories of those days still bring smiles years later,
Once I realized you held a key piece of my life’s puzzle,
I had to express my gratitude and appreciation.

Perhaps the debt of gratitude I owe was paid back in full,
Besides passing on the calling to the next generation,
But remaining grateful for you being part of my journey. 

 

WHEN THE WINDS WHISPERED ME MY CALLING

I don’t
recall when
nor how early,
but my ears too,
heard the calling,
just as my mentors
did a generation earlier.

 
When I first heard the winds,
they whispered my name,
like a soothsayer,
reading my fortune,
through her crystal ball,
telling me my tale
for all my tomorrows.

 
She started sharing, 

“Your efforts, didn’t go wayside or go unnoticed.”

“You’ve been good with kids, of all ages and 

especially those with different abilities, pre-school and 

those like you, as demonstrated by your success 

working with them at your job. 

I believe you just found your own calling.”

In a sense,
without knowing,
albeit not in a classroom,
of an elementary school,
I, too became a teacher but
at the local YMCA and its
facility rich campus. 

This was the beginning
of what became my career.
of just over forty years,
my roles changed,
through varied
departments
and different
disciplines
and capacities.

I remained,
a teacher of
my own calling.
Whether
working in.
summer day camps
or
child care programs
or
in my
later years,
training the next generation,
in becoming part of this
international movement,
known simply, as the YMCA. 

Looking back,
my school days,
I coasted by many classes,
some just did enough for a pass,
even aced a few, where I favored either
a course or a teacher, or in a rare case, both. 

I remained lucky,
the hand I was dealt with,
resulted in a poker’s royal flush.
When it came to my teachers,
the greater than majority,
heard their calling early
and made learning fun
and taught in ways
beyond textbooks.

They answered without question,
dancing and singing to their joy,
knowing how to make that difference,
in teaching just one right lesson,
peaking a student’s interest,
who needs a helping hand,
finding their own way
with life’s struggle
not letting go of
their student’s
hand until
success
was met. 

My memory recalls, as I remember, always when asked,

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” 

Waving my hand to be the first one to say,
“I want to be a teacher!”
 

Just like them,
I wasn’t looking
for a short work day,
nor one with every holiday
then a full summer off with pay or,
sprinkled with more than a handful of
negotiated half days of work due to whatever.

I wanted to answer the calling,
heard by so many of my teachers,
so I can honor and thank them,
for their investment in me,
by my depositing my gift
on the next generation
of differently abled
learners whom
were just like
me in a way
or another. 

Each day,
I prayed and hoped
I was making a difference,
just like the ones did with me. 

I always wanted to be the one,
who sang my own song,
though I couldn’t sing a tune,
who danced my own dance,
though I own two left feet.
I always wanted to be the one,
cheering for the underdog,
reminding me, I was one too! 

I knew,
how to relate
and make the
connection
one student
at a time.

With the common denominators,
setting the stage for success,
uncovered hidden talents,
stayed present with me,
expanded my interests,
showed interest in me,
its only then they built
the foundation of
something larger
we created together. 

I still prayed and hoped,
in becoming a teacher,
then I was reminded,
I too, became a teacher
albeit not in school or
traditional classroom,
where a teacher’s desk
was replaced by a
playground and
outdoor field or
singing camp songs
on a bus to our next
summer camp trip.

When the day’s winds changed direction and felt warmer, 

the soothsayer returned, 

she shared her final words with me.
I leaned in,

listened to her whisper, 

once again, with an open ear.
 

With her final words, she thanked me and 

reflected on my yesterdays then reminded me, 

“Its time to take care of you, its time to reward yourself, 

its time for you to bring everything to a close. 

It’s time to pass the torch, 

just as it was done for you so many years earlier.”

I kept my promise,
I danced to my own song, with my two left feet.
Through my tear-soaked eyes,
seeing all the interest earned by my investments.
in the faces of many whose lives I impacted.

I left,
with them
laughing with me,
as they too,
chased their own calling,

as I heard them say in unison,
“Please don’t let Mr Robert sing!”
as I sang, my final and one last song.

 

 

 

THE PRESENT IS THE GIFT OF HIS PROMISE

Before
I check out
my day’s end,
I prepare,
for a night’s,
well deserved,
night’s sleep.

With a prayer I seek… 
God’s wisdom,
His guidance,
His comfort,
His peace.

While not fully asleep,
but not quite fully awake, 
I heard Him,
deliver an answer.
Intertwined messages,
through milestones 
of my own life.
I had to unravel, 
before the answer
became omnipresent.

Yesterday I was torn,
today was difficult,
tomorrow will be hard,
Wednesday will be challenging,
Thursday will be harder,
Friday will be hardest,
Saturday I have survived,
with plenty of scars, cuts, bruises,
Sunday I will begin healing, 

Just as He promised, 
the answer was always present,
He just brought it into clear focus,
for my mortal eyes to see.

As I remember Him saying,

“Quit looking back, it’s the past,
you can only playback memories,
as you cannot change yesterday’s.

Lastly, not worry about tomorrow’s
only prepare to embrace them,
not waste today with tomorrow.

My child of mine, 
just remember,
in my time or yours,
all will be resolved,
one day at a time.”

That’s 
where I begin,
with a promise
I made to myself,
by no longer;
chasing my career,
testing my tenacity,
perfecting my plans,
doubting my decisions,
accepting my adversity,
dates with my deadlines,
ruminating my resilience,
conquering my challenges,
masquerading my motivation,
compromising my confidence,
worrying on worthless exchanges,

Instead I will invest in,
give more and take less,
slow down not speeding,
accept all and not be aloof,
learn tolerance and not judge,
take time to hear not just listen, 
apologize from my heart not mind, 
forgive genuinely and not bear grudges, 
make friends with everyone not enemies, 
offer a helping hand not expect a handout,
create more memories to cherish not to recreate,
fulfill promises as made not just make empty ones,
learn to say “no” is just as important as saying “yes”,
make every moment count, not, count each moment “to-do”,
set goals to achieve, for today, short term and tomorrow’s long day,
leave earth a better place with a legacy than when I received it,

It’s only when I can accept myself,
I can mark each day’s end,
With a prayer,
I thank God,
For His Blessings,
For today’s gift,
The present,
Each and every day,
Ultimately making me,
A better person tomorrow,
Then all my yesterdays combined.

 

 

 

 

ITS TIME TO SEW BACK OUR TORN NATION

The other day, a profound numbness came over me. It wasn’t caused by a single headline but by hours of relentless news at my mother’s house, where the local station is often on. It was a culmination of not just the one day of news but a month or more of hearing the bombardment of negativity being spewed by the local news station. Story after story of tragedy, anger and division wore me down until my emotions felt trapped in a cycle without resolution. I am beyond heartbroken of news over the last several weeks, maybe even months and possibly years of hearing of innocent people losing their lives at the hands of what I only could call the devil in human disguise. But I’m trying to keep to most recent times. No matter where you stand, I turned to prayer, but instead of finding answers, I was left with only with more questions. As it often happens when the weight of the world presses in, insomnia came to visit again.

What troubles me most is not only the events themselves, but how deeply fractured our country has become. Regardless of political leanings, most of us agree, we want what’s best for America. Yet, the way we are pursuing it often feels destructive, less about compromise and more about vilifying one another. Disagreement has become disdain, and disdain has become division, which often leads to violent behaviors being exposed.

As a first-generation American, this breaks my heart, it goes against everything I was taught and lead to believe what made America so different and envied by those who would do just about anything to escape their homelands to have a chance at opportunity, freedom and a better life. We, as Americans are supposed to be the example and the light for the rest of the world to follow. My parents came to this country with little more than determination and a belief that America offered opportunity if you were willing to work hard. They became naturalized citizens, raised me to value integrity, kindness, and perseverance and taught me to be the best I could be at whatever I chose to do. Those values shaped my life. At one time, these same values once shaped much of our national identity. Today, however, they are too often drowned out by the noise of partisan extremes.

The Pledge of Allegiance speaks “one nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.” Lately, we seem anything but indivisible. It appears to me more we label ourselves and each other, by race, politics, gender, or beliefs, the more fragmented and divided we become. Even our flag and the mention of God, symbols meant to unite us, now spark contention. Instead of finding strength in diversity, we seem to treat differences as lines that cannot be crossed.

Our nation has become a nation of political extremes rather than a compassionate nation lead by leaders of both parties whose polarized extremes are promoting agendas which are subliminally fed through gas lighting truths to us through mainstream media and social networking. This is not what our America is about!

This division plays out most starkly in how stories are told. Some tragedies dominate headlines for weeks, while others are barely mentioned. Recently, when a young Ukrainian woman recently lost her life to senseless violence, the coverage was minimal. Yet in another case, a Marine veteran who acted to protect subway passengers was thrust into the spotlight, vilified long before his acquittal. These contrasts fuel mistrust and frustration.

The point is not to deny the complexity of these events but to ask: why do we measure outrage differently depending on who is involved? Why do some victims become symbols while others are forgotten? When media narratives amplify certain stories and minimize others, public trust erodes, and resentment grows.

The truth is, these tragedies, whether mass shootings, political violence, or targeted attacks are not just isolated events. They are symptoms of something deeper: the erosion of civil discourse, the normalization of hostility and the failure of our institutions to protect the vulnerable.

For me, the breaking point came with the shocking assassination of Charlie Kirk in September 2025. Regardless of one’s views of him, his murder polarized the nation further instead of prompting sober reflection. Violence should never be a substitute for debate. Our Constitution protects the right to disagree, without that, democracy itself crumbles.

I ask, where do we go from here? I believe our nation needs a reset, a collective reminder that being American comes before being Republican or Democrat. We need leaders who can rise above partisan loyalty and remember that compromise is not betrayal. Just as importantly, we need citizens willing to listen to one another without assuming the worst.

America has always been strongest when diverse voices contribute to a shared future. Think of a hearty soup: each ingredient has its own flavor, but together they create something greater. After September 11, 2001, we saw what unity could look like. For a brief moment, differences faded as Americans stood shoulder to shoulder in grief and resolve. If we could find that spirit once, we can find it again.

But unity doesn’t begin in Washington or on the evening news. It begins with us as individuals, taking the first steps. With saying “I love you” more often. With listening to people whose views we don’t share, not to argue but taking time to understand. With performing one small act of kindness, expecting nothing in return. Healing won’t come from a single sweeping gesture, it will come from millions of small ones.

History offers hopeful reminders. President Ronald Reagan and Speaker Tip O’Neill often clashed bitterly on policy, yet they found ways to work together and even maintained a close friendship built on mutual respect. Their example shows how disagreement does not have to end in destruction; it can coexist with decency.

Tonight, I may still wrestle with sleeplessness. I may still pray for answers that don’t come easily. But I will hold on to this belief: America can still reclaim its better self. We can still choose reconciliation over resentment, compassion over contempt and unity over division.

The choice is ours. We can let our fractures deepen until they break us or we can begin stitching the torn fabric of our nation back together. Our nation cannot begin to heal until the day we realize the proverbial saying, “the right wing and the left wing are part of the same bird, only then can it fly” (like an eagle to make America great). The latter part of the sentence in parenthesis is my creative license to be applicable to this post.

For my part, I choose to believe that each of us can play a role in healing. Maybe, if, just enough of us do our small part, then one day soon I and many others will finally be able to get a good night’s sleep.

 

 

 

DOWNSHIFTING DURING DESCENT

Even climbing down,
my views around me,
show spectacular,
new found perspectives.
Almost like the ones,
I saw climbing up.
 

There’s a time in life,
I start to downshift,
reprioritize,
what is best for me,
how I spend my time,
what matters in life.
 

It’s not the money,
it’s not the title,
it’s not all about,
competitiveness,
nor the quantity, 

but the quality.

 

It’s about doing, 

enjoying simple,
pleasures to indulge.
Take life’s joys offered,
like quality friends,
or self-confidence 

trying something new.
 

Most importantly,
finding my balance,
in all that I do,
making moments count,
create memories, 

and cherish gone days.
 

Accept my life’s past,
with not a regret,
handle my present,
with full confidence,
knowing I lived life,
fully on my terms.
 

When tomorrow comes,
I’ll face my future
without any fear,
not knowing when or
if the sun will set
on my final day.

 

 

UNMASKING MASCULINITY

We men come across
bold, strong, courageous,
always putting on
an awkward smile.

Yet, ingrained in us
from day one onward, 
feelings aren’t shown and
emotions aren’t shared.

Reminded by all
maintain eye contact, 
remain stoic and
stand tall and be strong.

Wipe those tears away,
before your moment
finds its way to all,
showing your weakness.

Restrain your anger,
before your fury
evil escapes you,
without a filter.

Limit any signs
showing excitement,
contain happiness
or showing smiles.

You were raised a man,
not a little boy,
nor a sissy-boy,
nor a little girl.

We are expected
always to be brave, 
hide our true selves and
pretend we’re pain free.

As we get older,
our social circles,
may include one friend
maybe two or three.

Yet, unknowingly,
we push them aside,
keeping them distant,
to guard our secrets.

Suppressed way too long,
begging to escape,
at our weakest link,
we watch every move.

With each passing day,
every emotion
then every feeling,
gets buried deeper.

I confess, somewhere
hidden from your view,
men have emotions,
and feelings to share.

I don’t know how to,
let tears flow easy,
show my frustration,
smile, giggle or laugh.

A transformation
of my character,
began to take place,
albeit, slowly.

I still have problems,
talking of feelings,
showing emotions,
it just doesn’t fit.

My circle of friends,
found awkward moments,
where my emotions
and feelings released.

Little by little,
I become unmasked.
exposing someone, 
unfamiliar.

Slowly, I peel off
the ceramic mask, 
shattering like glass,
I begin to see light.

I see my former
stoic features fade,
replaced by softened, 
facial expressions. 

As the newly found
appearance surface,
I see a new me,
emerging today.

A new beginning,
seeing everything,
like if I’m seeing
my world all anew.

I allow tears to flow,
when I safely could.
I scream in anger, 
on rare occasions.

Photos capture my
genuine smiles.
Amongst my close friends,
my laughter is heard.

It was only then
this real man within,
found the confidence 
to be discovered.

 

 

WHEN LIFE DEALT A PAIR OF HEARTS

April second, twenty twenty-five, 
Notwithstanding, cold, rainy weather. 
In witness of closest family, 
Saw my friend and his girl exchange vows.

Husband and wife, they become to thrive, 
As promised, together forever. 
Living their very own rhapsody, 
As they join their lives under one roof.

Now blending their lone identity, 
Differences begin to dissolve. 
Seamlessly becoming united, 
Teasing and testing limits of time.

Each thought solitude was destiny, 
Perhaps it all started to evolve. 
Having conversations on the side, 
Easily could have turned on a dime.

Neither ever thought they would find love, 
Just took it one day at a time. 
Love started with a simple sealed kiss, 
As kismet proved, this was not skin deep.

Now both found out what people spoke of, 
Guaranteeing life’s love paradigm. 
Eternally joined in married bliss, 
Letting us share their found happiness.

As the cards are dealt with no regards, 
Planning to win with the hand’s presence. 
Ready to get acquainted firsthand, 
Instead of all the disappointments.

Life is like a shuffled deck of cards, 
Only able to play each card once. 
Hoping to always play their best hand, 
In seeking to win with the most points.

Offering to re-play a bad hand, 
Was not an option given to them. 
Except when the joker is in play, 
Daring their chance to win a next round. 

Doubling down on all the good days and, 
In conflict, helping each other pull through. 
Now those present, heard your vows today, 
God bless you both with your new life found.

With my visit coming to a close, 
I shared a hug and farewell to you. 
Not knowing what tomorrow will bring, 
Only knowing its all in God’s hands.

Realizing a few months passed by, 
Leaving me still holding cards to play. 
On an August evening, my phone rang, 
Silence greeted me initially.

Eerily, I felt something wasn’t right, 
The moment I answered the late call. 
Imagine my surprise, hearing her voice, 
Made me right away ask if all is ok.

Empathetically, she shared with me, 
Their marriage just isn’t working out. 
Only option left was annulment, 
Marriage counseling wasn’t working.

Only their candid conversations, 
Very much put the writing on the wall. 
Emotionless due to my surprise, 
Only acknowledging her heart’s pain.

Now grasping this was not just a dream, 
Not really knowing what to say but … 
Offered to lend my listening ear, 
When both rain and tears began swelling.

When the final round of cards were dealt, 
With no joker left to shift the game, 
I knew I could not heal vows undone, 
Yet, I stand as a friend between them.