I count it among the greatest of blessings to have met Jane Goodall. 

Nearly ten years ago now, she and I sat quietly in my office prior to a speaking event, swapping stories and drinking tea. When she eventually stepped onto the stage, she exuded both an air of serenity and gravitas. Dressed in black, a scarf tied loosely around her shoulders and hair pulled back in a ponytail, there was nothing showy about her. In fact, as those gathered rose to their feet with applause, she seemed slightly bemused, as if she didn't understand what all the fuss was about.

Over the next 90 minutes, Goodall spoke without notes, a sip of water or even a shifting of weight. At first, her utter stillness didn't quite register, but as the minutes clicked by, I was struck by her placid demeanor. Perhaps it was a remnant of all those years spent in the jungle, where for long stretches of time she sat motionless and silent. 

In a culture where hundreds of stimuli vie for our attention every minute of every day, Jane Goodall was certainly an anomaly. She didn't rely on technological wizardry to keep our attention. She didn't reduce her remarks to pithy sound bites to keep us engaged. She just stood there, looked us in the eye, and told the truth.

"Change happens by listening and then starting a dialogue with the people who are doing something you don't believe is right." - Jane Goodall

Mr. Stanley. My favorite pet of all time.

Named for a former Harvard University faculty member, Mr. Stanley came to me when his original owners moved abroad. It was a match made in heaven.

He was quirky, more dog than cat. He ran to the door when I would come home at night, howling until I reached down to scratch his ears. Forsaking traditional feline aloofness, he followed me everywhere, happiest when I finally settled down in the crook of the couch, his preferred napping spot. 

Mr. Stanley was NOT a fan of personal space.

His eccentricities didn't end there. He preferred his water straight from the faucet. Naturally I indulged this inclination. Because that's what we do for the creatures we love...

“A cat has absolute emotional honesty: human beings, for one reason or another, may hide their feelings, but a cat does not.” - Ernest Hemingway

Witness Trees. The name alone portends a certain gravitas, even reverence.

Defined as trees "present during a period of historical or cultural significance," these surviving timbers serve as a living reminder of days gone by.

Last week, during a visit to Valley Forge, I discovered such a tree. It was a sycamore, rooted to the bank of a creek, just a mile or so from the headquarters used by George Washington during the famed winter encampment of 1777. 

As I grew near, I gently placed my hand of its distinctive patchwork bark. The trunk was enormous, so large in fact that when I stretched my arms around the bole not even half the tree was in my grasp. The gnarled branches spun out in every direction, like the spokes of a bicycle wheel, topped by a canopy of leaves rustling their quiet greeting.

Stoic observers, these trees are guardians of our past. They have seen what we can only imagine. 

"Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth." - Herman Hesse

Let's chat water aerobics, shall we?

First made popular in the 1950's by television personality and fitness guru Jack LaLanne, water aerobics has long been relegated to the "that's not for me" category. But a sore knee and an unbearably hot summer eventually lured me to the pool. And who did I find there but Hannah.

Hannah has been attending the daily water aerobics class at the North Hollywood YMCA for years. But that's not her most impressive example of longevity. Hannah is 100 years old. 

She doesn't carry a cane or use a walker. No, Hannah is all about the kickboards, and the (buoyant) barbells, and the endless tangle of pool noodles. 

Which just goes to show you. You're never too old, or too young, to try something new, even if it means jumping into the deep end of the pool. 

"The water doesn't know how old you are." - Dara Torres, Olympic swimmer and Westlake School for Girls Alumna, Class of 1985

In 1939, then President Franklin Delano Roosevelt designated August 19th as National Aviation Day, the birthdate of Orville Wright.

The inaugural flight (December 17, 1903) of the pioneering Wright Brothers lasted just twelve seconds. Nearly 70 years later I too would take my maiden aeronautical voyage, a two-hour jaunt from Boston to Bermuda. My mother, tired of spending every Thanksgiving in an apron, decided she would like to travel for the holiday. My attachment to her legendary apple pie recipe immediately evaporated at the thought of being on an airplane. My love affair with travel has never ceased.

I am not alone in this zeal. Approximately 45,000 flights take off and land each day in the United States, close to 150,000 worldwide. Some of these are utilitarian in nature, cargo planes as an example. But most of these departures are part of an adventure, even if their origins are more dutiful than dazzling.

The impulse to travel is something I've felt in my bones before I even knew what to call it.

Up, up, and away......

"Them: What one book changed your life? Me: My passport."

In 1982, the name Katrina ranked 87^th in popularity, its high-water mark as it were.

Now, twenty years removed from the devastation of Hurricane Katrina (having made landfall in Louisiana on August 29, 2005), the moniker Katrina barely registers a blip, likely never to regain its cultural prominence.

Hurricane Katrina, a Category 5 hurricane at its apex, submerged eighty percent of New Orleans back in 2005. The protective levees were breached in fifty three locations during the height of the storm. It remains the costliest ($200+ billion) natural disaster in U.S. history, predicted to be surpassed only by the expense of the recent California wildfires.

My love affair with New Orleans evolved post-Katrina. I’d been to "The Big Easy" on numerous occasions prior to the storm, always for work, always tucked away inside some hotel conference room. But Katrina broke open my heart, and over the years, I made my way to New Orleans many times as part of the rebuilding process. 

The aftermath of that disaster revealed a different version of the city's spirit, something the beads, and the king cake, and the bourbon had previously masked.

While the consequences of Katrina still linger, so too does the exuberant vitality of its inhabitants. 

Laissez les bon temps rouler, mes amis. Tu n'es pas oublié.

It seems only right, as summer comes to a close, to kickstart this new year of "Bytes" with a hot weather nemesis of mine: the dreaded "Mosquito Byte/Bite."

When I first moved to California, I was assured this insatiable pest would no longer be part of my life. "Don't worry!" everyone said. The desert climate of Los Angeles will keep this nuisance at bay. And I believed each and every one of you. Led like a lamb to slaughter I went, thrilled to give up my former life of itchy welts.

Sadly, the ferocious appetite of the Culicidae clan (consisting of some 166 species in North America) was not keen on relinquishing their favorite meal ticket. The parade of bytes/bites continues.

A number of reasons have been proffered regarding what makes for a saucy target. Some blame one's blood type. O is the flavor of choice (yes, that's mine). Some blame excessive body heat (another reason to lament my menopausal station). Dark clothing is said to attract mosquitos as well. And the list goes on.  

Whatever I do, it's not enough to repel the cloud of insects that swirl around me. So, I have taken on a new mindset for this upcoming year, highlighted by the quote below. Great accomplishments, apparently, are for the small yet mighty!

"If you think you are too small to make a difference, try sleeping with a mosquito." - African proverb

Last night I watched Nonnas, the Netflix feel-good movie about a man who recruits a handful of Italian grandmothers to cook at his newly launched restaurant. 

The focus of the film is the owner of this nascent establishment, played deftly by Vince Vaughn. He is grieving the recent deaths of both his mother and grandmother and believes this culinary homage will assuage his sadness. The way to a man's heart is through his stomach, as the old adage goes.

The movie is schmaltzy, and playful, and laden with every pasta dish you can imagine. Oh, and there are a good number of verbal retorts flung between characters, all of which are spat out in Italian. Perfezione.

Seasoned actresses Lorraine Bracco, Susan Sarandon, Talia Shire, and Brenda Vaccaro are featured as the ricotta-slinging nonnas. Each revel in making their family's favorite recipes, even thecapuzelle, a dish that requires a stronger stomach than mine.

That said, there is something quite endearing about the brash and exuberant tone of the film's characters. They remind me of my own circle of Italian friends, who have hugged and teased and fed my emotional Irish reticence into submission.

I never had a nonna. But now, I sure wish I did.....

"Mangia!" - uttered by Italian grandmothers everywhere

I went to Dairy Queen the other day and stood in line with ... a pig.

Yup, you read that right. A pig, on a leash mind you, waiting patiently for his (her?) dish of vanilla ice cream and then promptly scarfing it down.

When I got home, I googled the dietary habits of swine and discovered they are omnivores. In their natural habitat they will eat both vegetation and meat, and if farm-raised, consume primarily corn and soybeans. No search I did suggested Dairy Queen as a source of porcine sustenance. 

A bit more research revealed the following ingredients are contained in DQ's famed frozen offering: milk fat, sugar, corn syrup, whey, mono and diglycerides, artificial flavor, guar gum, polysorbate 80, carrageenan, Vitamin A, vanilla flavor, and finally, 40% air. 

Air? The pig and I were eating AIR? Somehow it doesn't seem like either of us should have had to stand in line for that.

"You are what you eat." - Anthelme Brillat-Savarin 

Mother's Day. An observance not without its complications.

Because this holiday always falls on a Sunday, I have often been tasked with crafting a liturgy in recognition of this vocation. Which is just as tricky as it sounds.

A few years ago, I discovered the set of petitions below. This collection of words, at least to me, felt like it captured much of the emotional complexity of this primary and primal role...

"For new mothers, coming to terms with new responsibilities;

For expectant mothers, wondering and waiting;

For those who are tired, stressed or depressed;

For those who struggle to balance the tasks of work and family;

For those who are unable to feed their children due to poverty;

For those whose children have physical, mental or emotional disabilities;

For those who have children they do not want;

For those who raise children on their own;

For those who have lost a child;

For those who care for children of others;

For those whose children have left home;

And for those whose desire to be a mother has not been fulfilled.

We pray for mothers who fear they will run out of love, or time, or patience.

And we pray especially for those who grieve the loss of their mother or those separated from their mothers by war or conflict.

To them, our very existence is owed."

"Papa! Papa!" the Italians screamed. While part of a pulsating scrum in St. Peter's Square, the Pope glided by, just a few feet from me.

Francis is the only Pope I have seen in the flesh. Of the 266 men who have occupied the position, only 6 have served during my lifetime. Taking the helm in 2013, Francis was seen as an unusual choice. Born outside of Europe and a member of the Jesuit order, he was considered an outsider by many pontificate insiders. In the end, their suspicions were confirmed as Francis often ruffled the feathers of the traditionalists of his Church, much to their chagrin.

Rome, with its quaint piazzas, ancient ruins, and delicious cuisine is a preferred destination of many a traveler. And yet despite a dip in religiosity, the allure of the Vatican remains strong. People flock to see the architecture, the frescos, and the statuary. But they were also smitten by Francis, the humble Argentinian who found himself the unexpected choice of the last conclave. 

"Papa," they screamed. A word that speaks volumes about Francis' accessibility and the affection it endeared. 

Requiescat in pace. 

"What is the most important subject to learn in life? To learn to love." - Pope Francis

"Talked to Marshall and he reported several snake sightings. Fellow golfers have also reported sightings. Use extra caution."  

On Monday, this warning came to me via email from the local golf course. Spring has apparently sprung for our local reptile population. Good for them, bad for me.

So, for the time being, when tee shots wander or fairway irons catch heavy rough, I'll give the ophidians of Burbank a wide berth and instead take a drop. After all, it's hard enough to remember to keep my left elbow straight, and my head down, and my eye on the ball, and pivot my hips, and putt with confidence without also keeping my ears piqued for a nearby rattle.

I doubt the players at Augusta this week are more worried about snakes than Hole #11, the infamous "White Dogwood." Which just goes to show how vexing golf can be. Since when are dogwoods more frightening than snakes?!?

“It took me seventeen years to get three thousand hits in baseball. It took one afternoon on the golf course.” - like Augusta, another Georgia institution, former MLB Hall of Famer Hank Aaron

Photo Credit: Matt Aylward

This past Sunday, I met a woman planning to swim the Catalina Channel.

I had not met her previously. She just appeared in the front pew of a small neighborhood church in Santa Monica where I was preaching. During my sermon, she gazed at me with such intensity that I wondered if I had forgotten our introduction. I had not, but soon discovered, our meeting was meant to be.

Since its first crossing, some 200 people have now successfully swum the Channel. The passage from Catalina to Long Beach stretches approximately 20 miles, a journey made particularly perilous by the ever-present boat traffic and frosty water temperatures. Clearly, this is not a task for the faint of heart. 

Laura, a mother of four daughters, feels this challenge is her "calling." She considered all sorts of pilgrimages before settling on this one. To conquer this open water expanse is to slay her Goliath.

As we celebrate Women's History Month, Laura reminded me it's not just the female virtuosos and doyens who are worthy of admiration. The extraordinary is waiting for all of us...

"The biggest adventure you can ever take is to live the life of your dreams." - Oprah Winfrey

*Mrs. Myrtle Huddleston was the first woman to successfully swim the Catalina Channel in February of 1927, completing the journey in 20 hours and 42 minutes. 

Recently overheard in line at an airport Shake Shack....

"Order for Rachel!" boomed the cashier.

A 30-something woman bounces to the counter and peeks inside the grease-stained paper bag.

"I'm sorry but this is not my order," she says sheepishly. 

"That is the order for Rachel," he presses. To which she responds, "yes, but..."

Suddenly another 30-ish woman pops out of the crowd.

"I'm Rachel!" she sings. But then, after reviewing the contents, replies, "I didn't ask for a burger...."

The cashier, visibly annoyed, again barks out "Order for Rachel!"

A third woman pushes toward the counter. "That's me! But where are my fries?"

The cashier is now on the verge of losing his temper. "I have an order FOR RACHEL!"

Rachel #4 then materializes, grabs the tray, and chirps as she exits, "Thanks!"

Four women. Same age. Same name. A coincidence? I think not.... 

#Friends, #JenniferAnistan, #BornInThe1990's

*In honor of Jennifer Aniston, and the upcoming tax season, one of my all-time favorite Rachel quotes.

"Who is FICA and why is he getting all my money?" - Season 1, Episode 4 of Friends

Dubbed the "aquatic Lassie," Flipper was a wholesome and charming hit for NBC during the mid-1960's (1964-67). 

The show centered on a bottlenose dolphin (the title character), the pet of a ruggedly handsome marine park ranger and his two young sons. I loved everything about the show, so much so that when it came time for me to head to elementary school, I begged my mother to buy me a Flipper lunchbox. I was thrilled when she buckled to my plea, a rarity for her, and joined thousands of others swallowed by the merchandising tsunami the show inspired. 

I'm not sure where my old lunchbox is now, likely whisked out of my consciousness by the arrival of junior high school. But all those memories came flooding back a few weeks ago during a visit to the nearby Valley Relic Museum. I cringe a bit at the thought that something from my childhood is now categorized as a "relic." Nonetheless, it was heartwarming to see the old banged up pail, with the familiar water scene splashed across the lid. 

Suddenly the years melted away, allowing my hippocampus to somehow conjure up the long-forgotten theme song. "They called him Flipper, Flipper, faster than lightening, no one you see is smarter than he. And we know Flipper lives in a world full of wonder, flying there under, under the sea!"

Dialogue from Flipper:

Uncle Porter: "You ever been fishing? What did you catch?"

Sandy Ricks: "A whale. But I threw it back."

It takes a bit to find but the view is definitely worth it.

Tucked behind the remnants of some old industrial buildings is an observation area for the Van Nuys airport. It's open from dawn to dusk, free and available to anyone who wants to be close to the action. In fact, the only thing separating you from the rumble of planes is a simple chain link fence, pocked with portholes to provide an unobstructed view. 

Originally opened on December 17, 1928, the VNY airport averages 700 departures/landings per day. Non-commercial flights account for the majority of these flights, along with a sprinkling of training exercises. Given its location, it comes as no surprise the airport has developed numerous Hollywood connections. A young Norma Jeane Mortenson (Marilyn Monroe) worked onsite making drones during WWII. Frank Sinatra and his Learjet were also frequent visitors to VNY. And countless television and film projects used the location as a backdrop, perhaps most famously, for scenes from the 1942 Oscar-winning film Casablanca.

These days, anyone can stand alongside the airport's two runaways while a nearby speaker squawks live instructions from the control tower's personnel. Real action in real time. Just like in the movies.

"Here's looking at you kid. We'll always have ... Van Nuys." - (modified) dialogue from Casablanca

What is on your architectural "top ten" list?

It likely depends on your mood. I have a special affection for some of NYC's eye-catching designs: the yawning expanse of the Brooklyn Bridge, the Chrysler Building's gleaming metal cladding, and the inspirational pose of the Statue of Liberty. 

A glimpse of the Lincoln Memorial can get my heart to skip a beat. All those stairs, 87 in total, a preamble to America's version of the Parthenon. Or perhaps Maya Lin's black granite salute to the fallen of the Vietnam War is more your style. Somber. Linear. Piercing.

There are plenty of architectural gems west of the Mississippi as well. Mount Rushmore comes to mind. Or the haunting remains of Alcatraz. Even the opulent excess of Hearst Castle never fails to dazzle.

But if I had to choose only one architect, I would put my chips down on Frank Lloyd Wright. Over the years I have made pilgrimages to many of his most iconic creations - Taliesin West, Fallingwater, the Guggenheim, and LA's own Hollyhock House. 

Harmony with the created world was Wright's trademark. After all, who can design something more beautiful than nature?

"I believe in God, only I call it Nature." - Frank Lloyd Wright