Posts Tagged With: Aaron Koplow

Day 902: What is that a sign of?

Since January, 2013, I’ve been writing a post every day, through:

  • rain,
  • snow,
  • light
  • dark, and
  • three Father’s Days.

What is that a sign of?

I can never remember where to put the apostrophe in “Father’s Day.”

What is that a sign of?

My father died in 1997 and I still think about him, almost every day.

What is that a sign of?

I often see something — in my daily journeys — that inspires the title of my next blog post.

What is that a sign of?

Once I decide on the title of a blog post, many things I see seem to fit that title.

What is that a sign of?

Are these signs of anything, to you?


I could easily think that everything I encountered yesterday was a sign of SOMETHING. For example,

… my initials and my father’s initials are the same.

What is that a sign of?

When I’m thinking of my father, Aaron Koplow, the song “Trans-Island Skyway” by Donald Fagen often shows up, as it did yesterday.

What is that a sign of? I’m not sure, but the lyrics include the following:

We reach the sprangle
Just at dawn
These little streets I used to know
Is that my father
Mowin’ the lawn
C’mon Daddy get in let’s go
C’mon Daddy get in let’s go
C’mon Daddy get in let’s go
C’mon Daddy get in let’s go
C’mon Daddy get in let’s go
C’mon Daddy get in let’s go
C’mon Daddy get in let’s go

I don’t know what a “sprangle” is.  What is that a sign of?

Whenever I hear that song, I can see my father on our lawn.

What is that a sign of?

If you leave a comment, I won’t necessarily take it a sign of anything, but I will definitely appreciate it.

Many signs of gratitude and thanks to my father, to signs everywhere, to Donald Fagen, to sprangles (and other things I don’t know the meaning of), to sky-ways and by-ways, to everything  I saw and heard yesterday, and to you  — of course! — for reading this Father’s Day 2015 post, here and now.

Categories: in memoriam, Nostalgia, personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: , , , | 53 Comments

Day 326: Helpful reminders, on November 22, 2013

I have another blog, besides this one, called Ann’s Helpful Hints (re: Letting go of Judgment).  It only has two posts: a list of cognitive distortions and a list of antidotes for unhelpful thoughts.

Here’s one of the antidotes:

Use Helpful Reminders.  Use helpful phrases to challenge habitual distortions. For example, for mind-reading or fortune telling, remind yourself “I’m not psychic.” Make a list of other phrases that help you, such as “I am doing the best I can,” “One step at a time,” etc. Consider sticking these reminders where you can see them.

In therapy groups, I often put up a list of helpful phrases.  The group members and I add to it, as we choose. In other words, the list is a work in progress (like everyone who comes to the groups).

I can remember a few of the phrases on that list, right now:

You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

The pain of the loss is directly related to the importance of the connection.

Less is more.

That last one was easy for me to remember, because somebody suggested it last night.

Here’s why I’m writing about this topic, today.

I want to include, in this post, some  helpful reminders that people have written to me, lately.

If you wish to “connect” with me, please do.

While you are observing the anniversary of your 1st [pacemaker] implant, is it possible to view it as a celebration ( not painful) of life…YOUR life…& your continued presence in my life and the life of your other readers & friends & family. 

Take heart, Ann.

Thanks to all, for every helpful reminder, phrase, or thought. Quoted or not. Expressed or unexpressed.

Here’s one more phrase, before I end.

Rest in peace.

Rest in peace, John Kennedy.


Rest in peace, all those I love, who have passed on before me.


I want to use that phrase for the living, now.


Here’s my wish, for all my “readers & friends & family.” (And for me, too.)

May we all rest, in peace, while still here on this earth.

Not perfectly. Not all the time. But as best we can.

Thanks so much, for reading today.

** Left to right: my father, my mother, Nell Zaitchik, Rabbi Samuel Zaitchik


Categories: personal growth | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 27 Comments

Blog at