This penultimate installment of 60|60 has gone through a number of directions and iterations. One direction included revisiting favorite topics and posts. But after a few days ruminating on my July 4th post about America and the current state of the Union, I cut bait. And then burned the boat. And then I set fire to the ocean.
Instead, I’m going to revisit some of my favorite moments from throughout the 60|60 scrawl. It’s more user-friendly for those who got tired of me and 60|60 a long time ago. I hope you enjoy all of the goodness in one single, really long scroll. Click on ’em all!
Origins & Key Players
31|60: Mom & Dad
According to her diary, Margery Elizabeth Rose “met an Irish pre-med student” at a square dance on October 29, 1948. She stayed up late. She saw him again a few nights later. [Marge and Jim were married two years later.]
1|60: The Birthday Edition
On this day in 1965, my Mom wrote this in her diary:
“Cramps began when I got up. Hurriedly washed the dishes and packed up the boys’ stuff…I called the hospital and they said to come in and be checked…They decided it was labor so [I] stayed…Our new son was born at 4:45. Weighed 8 pounds and has much black hair. Had supper.“
16|60: Mom
As I opined in her eulogy in 2020, Maw was a champion. Not of anything involving a trophy, but of people, especially of me. I sensed her pride in me, her hopes for me, her protection of me. In a way, maybe I was a trophy to her, in the proudest and purest sense.
21|60: Dad
Dad and I both liked to be busy and productive. His consistent advice to me was to be professional, which I was. He advised me to speak my conscience, which I did. That got me into trouble a few times in my early career, so much so that Dad suggested I reel it in a little.
38|60: Mary & Those O’Neills
[Mary] met my Mom and Dad at Lake Michigan in 2005, halfway through a roadtrip from California, via St. Louis. And then again at Christmas with my Folks in Virginia, where f-bombs were dropped and oysters shucked.
35|60: Mary & Me
Awright, let’s get serious: if not for Mary, I would probably be dead or deranged by now. Or both.
[…]
We cook together, travel together, raise dogs together, shop, walk, drive and celebrate together. We’re pretty much together all the time. In fact, we’ve only been apart maybe 20 days in the last five years. By that, I mean we wake up together, go to sleep together and spend most of the day together.
38|60: Mary & Those O’Neills
I met most of the O’Neill cast back in the early aughts. It was a party at an apartment near UCLA. Ben and Tyler’s 21st birthday. Mary and I were not yet an item, but I lived just on the other side of the 405, so why not. Harn was grilling, Kay was mixing drinks, Mary’s oldest sister Karen was mingling.
That’s the thing about the O’Neills, they come at you fast, all at once and from all sides. Relentlessly charming.
56|60: HBD Miko
It took me until I was in my 40s before I came to appreciate that Mike Binder is just about the best human I’ve known in this life. Earnest, hard-working, creative and clever, mightily intelligent, empathic and generous.
57|60: HBD\RIP Timbo
He was a force. Smart, funny and wildly creative. He savored the spotlight as a robust raconteur, given to mischief and occasional mayhem.
[…]
Standing over him [at the funeral home], I conjured Hamlet and Yorick: ‘…a man of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy. He hath borne me on his back a thousand times.’
30|60: HBD G-berg
Mike Goldenberg is one of my very best friends, has been for more than 40 years. When he visited me at the Lake a few weeks ago, we went to a bar for lunch. We had a few drinks and shared a bowl of soup with extra crackers, and more extra crackers. That’s friendship. We didn’t share a spoon, that would have been weird.
32|60: Thomas, David & Brian
After four decades of wildly inconsistent contact, I’m glad Thomas, David and Brian are still in my life.
[…]
Serious, you never know who is going to stay in your life until it’s already happened.
33|60: HBD Kimmy
“Enthusiast” is a good descriptor of Kim Anschultz. She gets excited about almost anything; it is contagious. The girl can talk your ear off. Without peer. It’s all the good stuff in the world: family, friends, neat experiences, new opportunities.
41|60: HBD Matt
Before I left Orlando, Matt and I had dinner. He asked me what my plans were [in New York]. I didn’t have a clear answer, because I didn’t really know. I just needed a life-disruption. I asked him the same. Straight up: I want to be a CEO. Clarity and grit. Admirable. Matt.
49|60: Bowzer
A lot has changed since we got him. I’ve dropped 35 pounds which I credit to him. […] We are rarely at a loss for something to do. Fetch, scratch, shake, pull, feed, fetch, yell, admonish, treat. Repeat.
[…]
And I want to clarify something: Bowzer will do anything for food, but if I set a large pepperoni pizza in front of him and then throw a ball. No contest. The ball wins. I get the pizza.
2. Deep Thoughts
1|60: The Birthday Edition
Contentment has taken hold, replacing decades of constant striving and wanting and chasing. I haven’t achieved all that I dreamed of — not even close — and that’s okay. I’m not going to, and that’s okay.
[…]
Time is more precious.
It goes by so fast now. I’d heard that for forever but found it dubious. Turns out, time is flying by faster than ever before and faster than you think is possible. And there’s nothing you can do about it or even try to comprehend. Where did my 30s and 40s go? Where did 2024 go? I guess I should be happy that my 20s seemingly lasted so long, comparably; I’d like to think I made the most of them.
10|60: A Mighty Warrior
I have long been a mighty warrior. Damn autocorrect! A mighty worrier. I am a mighty worrier.
[…]
I learned to channel my worry into plenty of distractive and destructive habits over the years, tamping down the outward exhibition of worry. I kept it in. Not always, but largely.
And then one day, it escaped. On a Sunday back in the 90s when I lived in New York, I was on the phone chatting with my parents. All of a sudden my heart started racing, I got dizzy. […] Is this a stroke? A heart attack? Was I actually going mad?
28|60: Death
My whole life I’ve hated death. I hated it because I didn’t understand it. I hated it because it scared me. I accepted that it was inevitable, but it was all the stuff that comes along with it that I couldn’t comprehend, I couldn’t cope with: the sadness and totality of the loss, the disposition of the corpse, the rituals and traditions, hearses and funeral homes and graveyards and grave diggers and lots of people crying.
26|60: Mirror Mirror
It’s been 20 years since I woke up at my place in Santa Monica and put the coffee on, as was routine. All of a sudden I felt a buzzing in my chest. Not painful but not right. My panic reflexes jumped in and I was pacing fast around the apartment, up and down the stairs. Until finally, I caught my reflection in a hallway mirror. My face was ash, gray and dead.
42|60: Did Anyone Enjoy Middle School?
Coming out of the 6th grade, the sky was the limit.
And then…Middle school. Henry David Thoreau, to be exact. For two years in the late 70s, my life turned to hell.
[…]
On the bus, I somehow became relegated to sit in the second row on the left side, directly behind the bus bully. So by the time I got to school, I was a traumatized, nervous wreck with disheveled hair.
The gifted/talented thing followed me. That’s not a humble brag. It meant I was shut in with the same 20-25 kids most of the day. The only time we were released into the general population was for lunch and P.E.
Let’s talk P.E. So this kid, me, who’s suddenly lost in the world, yet cloistered and cocooned, is forced to spend 30 minutes every day getting tackled in flag football, outrun on the blacktop, humiliated at the bottom of a chin-up bar and rope climb, pinned on a wrestling mat, striking out, sitting out, losing out. And then a random shower under the watchful eye of the gym teacher. Creepy.
55|60: Proust Questionnaire
A sampling:
- What is your idea of perfect happiness? Rain on the roof, dogs on the bed, no plans on a Saturday.
- What is your greatest fear? To live too long and be forgotten too soon.
- What is the trait you most deplore in yourself? Impatience.
58|60: Regrets
Nope, not going there. This 60|60 is already a minefield of regret and revelation. So let me dispatch with this entire issue in a single run-on non-sentence:
Smoking; alcohol; parachute pants; gambling; crabs; flaming shots; shoplifting; a few things I said; a few things I said which were misconstrued; hickeys; a few things I didn’t say; that break-up; my behavior at a wedding in New Hampshire; typos; junior high school; partaking of certain controlled substances (but only a few of them); being ill-prepared when it mattered; not investing in Nvidia, Google or Microsoft; unloading Apple, Amazon and Meta way too soon, and holding onto AOL until it crashed; the mullet (but I’d kill for it now).
[…]
I’ve learned though that my choices have made me stronger in many ways, like scar tissue. And like scars, they make for some great stories.
3. A Creative Career
8|60: Orlando
Say what you will about Orlando, but when you’re in your early 20s and unleashed into sun, fun, sand, tan lines and relentless partying, the bonding comes easy. And work. Work is important. I should have led with that. Work. Let’s get to work.
19|60: June 7, 1990 (Universal Florida Grand Opening)
9:20 AM. I stepped away to a house phone and called the command center to ask for an update on the rides. On a scrap of paper I scribbled down a list of the current situation [of ride statuses]. This was going to be a bad day.
So began a day and a summer that would live in theme park infamy. It was a hot and humid Thursday. The park was crowded with first-day revelers who were becoming increasingly chaotic [and angry]. Management in suits removed their ties and name tags. I heard that one senior executive, surrounded by angry guests demanding refunds, took a wad of bills from his pocket and started throwing money into the air in order to escape.
[…]
Given this experience, I can relate to those in the role of spokespersons, especially in government. […] Their role is to believe and make others believe no matter what their own values and ethics are. To succeed at the job, one needs to dismiss the inconsistencies and hypocrisies and do what the good book tells you.
6|60: Shades of Mediocrity
Did I dream of producing corporate events, as a kid? No. I wanted to be a filmmaker or a legit writer. But, as I’ve stated in 60|60, I have come to accept the career and life I’ve chiseled out for myself. It’s unique and occasionally fascinating, and it involves the mediums of film and writing and design. I’m proud of some of the work I’ve delivered for clients and myself, some of it award-winning.
58|60 Creative For Hire
Do it because you love it, because you need to, and even because you need the money. Which brings me to: unless you’re surviving on a trust fund…
RULE NUMBER 1: Get paid.
Maybe you followed your bliss, good for you! But this is a career. Careers, by definition, are transactional: I do work for you, you pay me.
37|60: Creativity
My advice: give it time and room to grow inside you. Invite it. Let it well up. Wake up at night to take notes. Try to understand the vision even if you can’t see it yet. Be patient. Be lost. Be alert. In time, the context, content and creativity will force itself out of you.
[…]
To some people, there is nothing more beautiful than a blank canvas or a blank page. Tabula rasa. Fuck ’em.
43|60: A Life in Christmas Cards
Like this 60|60 project, the [Christmas] cards have been a narcissistic but purposeful pursuit, to understand and convey my place in the world at a given time. With the cards, I try to tell a story with a single frame (or strip). Looking back, the series feels cohesive to me: a careening, jigsaw narrative of highs and lows, dark days and bright, vanity and bravado. Depression and elation.
And imperfection and vulnerability. Lord knows.
51|60: Creative. The Churn
When you are truly ready to start writing anything, big or small, you can’t help it. It’s like trying to manage the night-spins in bed: you feel it coming, you deny it, you fight it back, and then you cover your mouth and race to the nearest receptacle you can find. Then it comes out and in all directions.”
[…]
[My advice:] If you aspire to write a novel, coming from someone who has not written a novel: finish it.
That’s when I realized the man standing to my left was Andy Grove, the Chairman of Intel and recent Time magazine Person of the Year. Even this Silicon Valley noob knew that Andy was a legend.[…]
Three years ago A.I. felt distant and utilitarian—a quiet back-room tool monitoring supply chains and assembly lines in the hands of responsible managers. Now it’s churning out Hollywood-level films in minutes, along with a tidal wave of social and political effluvia for gullible morons to feed on.
[…]
Which makes me wonder: If A.I. is now capable of making movies, running companies and curing cancer, why are customer service chatbots still so unbelievably stupid?
47|60: I Quit
My final two major projects for [my last] agency were successes, in my opinion. One of them was a kick-ass, immersive experience inside the legendary Hall C at Moscone in San Francisco; the other a very high-visibility gig on the main stage at CES in Las Vegas.
[…]
The latter project laid me low, though, burned me to a crisp. That’s when I realized I had matured. Or changed. Or cracked. Or grown a pair. Or something. It was time to move on. It was time to quit. I [had] a sort of Jerry Maguire moment. […] The die was cast. I had “entered the portal.” I gave my resignation notice before Christmas and was dismissed a month later.
4. Place
9. 27|60: Lake Michigan
I woke up this morning to wind and rain pounding on the windows. The gray skies hovered low over the big waves roaring from the north. It’s cold. None of this was expected.
Every morning at the Lake is a blessing and a revelation. Each sunrise reveals a new landscape, a new world. The horizon between sky and water sometimes melts into one. Other times it’s as distinct as a razor.
[…]
As for generations of the Lake, we are now the elders, passed down from Gramma to our parents and now us and the cousins. And now a new generation. Jaine became a Gramma a few months ago. Evan made his first visit just last week. He has no idea what this place will mean to him and the role it will play in his life, just like it did for generations that came before.
25|60: America
On its surface, America is beautiful. […] I’ve flown over and driven through thousands of miles of the place for 60 years. Some vistas take your breath away. Others make you want to hold your breath.
[…]
Growing up near Washington, DC, the symbols of America, its history, diversity and its politics were everywhere. My parents were keen to take us into the city all the time to visit the memorials, the White House, the Capitol, the Library of Congress, the massive edifices of various departments. Just the idea of the Smithsonian is a treasure.
58|60: Vienna, Virginia
A few years ago, I attended my high school reunion [in Vienna]. The town felt familiar at every turn, and jarring at the same time.
[…]
It was eerie. Seriously, on some astral plane, I felt vibrations emanating from the bustling new Chipotle, Whole Foods, Peet’s, MODs, McMansions and Metro stations. Maple Avenue. […] I used to sit on the curb to watch the [Halloween parade] and anticipate a handshake from Vienna’s most famous resident, Willard Scott. The Drug Fair is now a jazz club; I once met Joe Theismann in the checkout line. And I can still smell the burgers Mom and I shared while waiting on the pharmacy. The Vienna Inn is still there, so is the Virginian, pretty much the same but sans smoking. Vienna Donuts is now a Dunkin, predictably.
The place felt like a dear old friend who I barely recognized.
24|60: A Sense of Place
I’ve been a bit of a wanderer. I’ve lived in a number of places around the country, usually for just a few years in each. Rarely was there a reason for moving away, other than feeling restless and bored.
If you want to test your compatibility with a partner, roadtrip together. There’s just enough silence, tedium and stress to bubble any foibles to the surface.
[On our recent migration from the Lake back to Arizona last fall] the forests of Michigan gave way to the concrete sprawl of Chicago and then rose into the hills of Missouri, the flat lands of Oklahoma and Texas, and the twisty, white-knuckle roads through the surprisingly lush, green mountains of Arizona.[…]
We did America. The good and the bad, the kind and the asinine, the bold and the humble, the ugly and the proud. We saw refreshingly few signs for Trump and Brandon. But plenty for Jesus Christ. And casinos. And CBD. And personal injury lawyers. And fireworks. America.
5. Culture
45|60 Fraternity Days
There was leadership and governance, camaraderie, honor, community, trust and friendship. Competition. Charity. Humility. Avarice. Racism and homophobia. Misogyny. Bodily functions, odors, casual nudity, purposeful nudity and some real freaky-deakies. Prigs, pies and rednecks, rockstars, sports stars, Reaganites and Prince wannabes, There was chew, smokes, ledge beers, tequila shots and hairy buffaloes, medicinal shampoos, cheap cologne, lines, rails, tabs, hits, boomers, inhalants and activities that only started after 2AM.
12|60 Random Moments & Revelations. My favorite memories, culled from 60 to 10.
- Exploring Ritan Park in Beijing at dawn with my then-friend Mary, and coming upon the scene of 100s of elderly Chinese couples on a blacktop ballroom dancing to “Moon River,” my parents’ song
- Staring up at the moon in the Oregon redwoods, surrounded by hippies and listening to the radio announce that men had landed on it, but I couldn’t see them
- Dancing on the roof of a double wide outside Pigeon Forge, Tennessee with a cup of moonshine in a half-naked kick-line made up of cast and crew from Dollywood
- Writhing in the throes of an expert Thai massage in Phuket, feeling like a deboned turkey attempting to be reconstructed
- Humble-bragging about solving The New York Times Sunday crossword in 11 minutes, 25 seconds; really, it’s just bragging
- Sitting in a car outside the Orleans Casino in Las Vegas at 3AM on a school night, having just squandered a $5000 jackpot won just a few hours earlier, and thinking about what to do next
- Riding the Lexington Avenue express, toting an aromatic sack of Reubens from the Carnegie Deli to take home to my visiting parents on a cold, rainy Wednesday evening before Thanksgiving
- Collapsing to the ground, repeatedly, as the result of a bum knee while performing in full, furry regalia as Captain Caveman at Kings Dominion and then being further humiliated by packs of punk kids piling onto me
- Basking in the company of a hundred swimsuit models and Fabio, Pauly Shore, Benny Hill, Leslie Nielsen, Jim Kelly and many others at a Hawaiian Tropic party at the founder’s oceanfront compound near Daytona Beach
- Hustling through the Mumbai airport at 2AM after 25+ hours of travel, pushing though immigration and customs and emerging into the oppressively hot, loud, crowded, dark and sooty air… to light a cigarette
- Walking through the morning fog at Walt Disney World at 7 years and thinking, I want to live here someday
9|60: Movies
As I suspected, my favorite film of all time is “The Godfather II.” […] I also adore the runner-up “The Sting.” It’s so clever and well-acted and directed. It’s also an example of how the circumstances surrounding a first viewing can affect one’s judgment: I was 7 years old on a night out with my big brothers. Takes me back every time I rewatch it, which has been somewhere between 10 and 310 times, maybe more.
7|60: Let’s Eat!
Mary and I are food enthusiasts; we loathe the term foodies. She was born into a grocery family in St. Louis, and we love to explore local markets whenever we can. She’s an excellent cook, I love to smoke and grill. We’re also avid restaurant patrons, which is easy (and expensive) in Scottsdale but more challenging 15 miles west of Mears, Michigan where we spend our summers.
If we could bring it all together and open our own dream restaurant, these might be a few of our favorite dishes to feed the masses. To be sure, there is zero chance we are going to open a restaurant (we’re not good with people), so let’s just leave this here as our Dream Menu. Not a Brussels sprout in sight.
14|60: Stargazing
I have a celebrity problem.
I’ve always been drawn to famous people. Fame. People who have fame. People who are famous. People who attract the eyes and admiration of other people, millions and even billions of people. I can’t say I’m proud of it, but I’ve not made it much of a secret either: Those who know me know that I can drop a name.
20|60: My Michael Jackson Story
The [McCaulay] Culkins showed up, like ten of them, along with the Chlumskys. First up. King Kong and the obligatory photo shoot: Macaulay doing his “Home Alone” scream in front of Kong photo spot. Check that off the list and get it on the wire.
[…]
A few weeks after the Easter visit, I got a call another from Macaulay’s mom. “Can we come over again?” Sure! When? “How about today?” That can work. “One other thing, we’re with Michael Jackson. Is that okay?” Okay. “And he doesn’t want any special treatment. No security.” Ummm. Let me check on that one.
20. 11|60: Words
Focaccia is the best word. Full stop.
It’s fun to say. It’s got all the feels. To pronounce it, it starts soft, then hits you hard with a staccato jag; the first syllable’s pronunciation can be adjusted to make it sound adolescently obscene. The rock hard “c” leaps into the flourish of two soothing “ah”s married by the sublime and serene “shhh.” Say it. Say it again. Whisper it.
29|60: Summer of 1985
[I was a driver for Wolf Trap, a theater just outside Washington DC.] One morning in June, the legendary performer Dickie Smothers sneered at me, “shame on you.” I was late to pick him and his brother up at National Airport because I’d overslept after […] I had roadtripped to Virginia Beach and back in the previous 20 hours, as one does at that age. The town car was parked a long way away from the terminal because I still hadn’t learned where the limo lot was; this wasn’t starting out well. Tommy Smothers sat up front with me and lightened the mood as I drove them to the Marriott at Tysons Corner. It turned out to be a fun few days.
[…]
[The morning of Live Aid] I needed to consult a real map–a folded gas station paper map–in order to locate the Georgetown boutique hotel where [my passenger] was staying. The man bounded right out, unmistakably Colonel Klink, only, wearing a fishing hat with lures stuck in it. He jumped into the front seat with me and off we went to Union Station.
Problem was, I’d never been to Union Station. I knew the general direction, but this part of D.C. has a lot of one-way streets, a few of which I traversed wrongly. […] “Doug, do you know where you are going?” he asked with a very familiar and chilling accent? I could hear it in my head, the same way he would say “Hoooogaaaaan!” when he was enraged. “Biiindeerrr!” but with short ‘i’ and ‘a’ sounds: “Binnnn-daahhrr!”
I was a teenage shithead. This blog post has me thinking I was a pretty lousy employee in my youth. Irresponsible (e.g., I snuck friends backstage to nosh on leftover food and booze), inconsiderate (e.g., I smoked in the limo when I didn’t have passengers), unreliable (e.g., oversleeping and over-caffeinating). It’s no wonder I didn’t get hired back
48|60: Get Off My Lawn!
Writing this post has been extremely cathartic. I highly recommend the activity. Herewith my top 60 lovable gripes and grievances [culled to 10 for this recap]:
- The world needs more gravy.
- Pickleball. Axe throwing. Why not combine them?
- Don’t judge my day-drinking.
- Old people at weddings are invisible, so give us our own bar.
- Stop lying to my friends. Some of them have lost their effing minds, families and friends like me. Okay, a few of them were screwed up before, but the propaganda and grifting is at an all new/low level. Some ugliness out there.
- That light doesn’t get any greener.
- Weathercasters. Still no accountability.
- Learn to drive, Part 1. Turn signals. Use them.
- Why is everything so effing hard to open? That hard plastic stuff is the worst; you need scissors or knives to get into that thing, and there might be blood.
- Gen Y and Z, you are in for some serious realities. I don’t envy you.
53|60: Meat Day
Meat Day began back around 2010. As with most great innovations of the 21st Century, it was born in a bar in San Francisco. I’d been drinking with friends in SOMA but needed to bail and run to catch the train home to Sunnyvale. Once on the rails, I realized I had stiffed my Boys. I texted an apology. They responded: ‘smoke us some meat.’
And so we did.
If it’s true what they say about pictures, this post is worth 60,000 words. {Here are] some of my faves.
6. Meaning & Gratitude
I didn’t start out being thankful. As a kid, and a fortunate one at that, I took a lot for granted: This is just the way life is. It took me decades to appreciate how much I’ve had to be thankful for, and too often it’s been in hindsight.
Now, I’m trying to be thankful in the moment. That’s a key learning for me from the 60|60 project so far. Be happy now or even preemptively, for all I have in my life.
When the late shift ended [at City Hall], most folks would head backstage to the tunnel and walk underground back to wardrobe and the bus back to the employee parking lot. As often as I could, I would walk up Main Street USA all by myself. The lights still twinkling, the Castle still radiant, the street silent. All of the magic of the Magic Kingdom just for me.
52|60: Groundhog Day
Sure, I could imagine a scenario where I’m given one random day to relive over and over again until it makes me a better person. Like in the movie, I’d learn values and lessons about avarice and virtues, empathy, dereliction, redemption and respect. And in the end–of the movie anyway–after dozens or hundreds of iterations of a single day, Bill Murray’s character finally gets laid. So there’s your moral.
Earlier in the film, he laments: “I was in the Virgin Islands once. I met a girl. We ate lobster, drank piña coladas […] That was a pretty good day. Why couldn’t I get that day over and over and over?”
I hope we’ve all had one of those days.
44|60: Bucket List
Culled from 60 to 10.
- Finish the FREE 72-ounce steak, along with shrimp cocktail, baked potato, rolls and salad at the Big Texan just off the interstate in Amarillo.
- Complete the idiom decathlon: drink from a fire hose, herd cats, poke the bear, cut a rug, fly by the seat of my pants, paint the town red, kick the hornets’ nest, put lipstick on a pig, say the quiet part out loud, and open the kimono.
- Experience something again for the first time. I’d intended this item to be more specific, but there are so many things. So very many.
- Visit Stonehenge at dawn for the Solstice. Maybe a few days early or late, avoid the crowds.
- Succeed at the “trust fall.” Alone.
- See all the good stuff.
- Ride every roller coaster.
- Get tased. I don’t know why either. Curious I guess.
- Write a sentence as masterfully mathematical, funny, empathic and perfect as what constitutes the whole of first paragraph of footnote 111 in David Foster Wallace’s essay A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again.
- Spend the rest of my days living and laughing and savoring with Mary, Bowzer and lots of good people.
I’ll be back Thursday for the 60th of 60|60.
Binderama60for60 
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