It’s been three months now, if not of lockdown then certainly some form of home-bound. Obviously, things are relaxing a bit – to varying degrees, depending upon one’s region and personal tolerance for risk. We’re in that long, penumbral state of in-between sheltering in place and feeling like it’s back to normal. My sense is this will continue for a few more months. Or ought to, if we are to be guided by public safety concerns. How to say this without being naïve or blind to the pain that’s out there? The last few months, difficult as they have been, have also been an opportunity for learning, growth and personal exploration. I’m impressed by how often this theme comes up in my talks with friends, family and far-flung colleagues. Spending time at home, talking more, hanging out together, and taking walks. Phone calls with friends one might have drifted out of connection but who proved easy to reconnect with. Not to underestimate the toll. I understand fully that for many families the last few months have been overwhelmingly stressful. The pain extracted by Covid-19 has cut deeply. Anxiety about possible infection. The anguish of families and friends accompanying the death...Read more

I’ve never written much about race before. I’ve referred to it in terms of the appalling lack of diversity in the industry where I’ve published much over the decades – golf. But I’ve never written about race in the intensely personal, searing and painful way it deserves. After this weekend it’s hard not to look and think about race and racism and the power they hold over the American cultural landscape; and the way race implicates all of us, though very differently. My wife, Jane, and I live in a demographically and ethnically diverse community. Racially, too, it’s quite mixed. So we see and hear from lots of different people, including many from the Black communities, both African-American and Afro-Caribbean. The more we talk and the more I hear the less I am sure I fully appreciate how deeply embedded the pain of racism is. What I do know is that the more I try, the more I want to make sure that our grandkids don’t grow up in a world where they have to hear and see the same things I’m encountering. I grew up in Queens, N.Y., one of the most ethnically and racially diverse boroughs or counties...Read more

It was a lovely morning, and I happened to be in New York City to meet some friends. We took the subway into Manhattan and I was surprised it wasn’t more crowded. When we got to the bistro to stand in line for our lunch orders, we sent one in our group ahead to get a table since the place was just about full. My order took a very long time, and I had to jostle with others waiting for the food to come up. When it finally did, I sat down to the table and realized someone else had joined our group and I had to lean in a bit to listen. That’s when I looked up and realized no one was wearing a mask. Not even me. I startled, got very scared, and that’s when I awoke from the dream. Actually, it was a nightmare. A seductively pleasant one for a while, because it was a joy to be up and about with friends, outside, with others, conversing, doing normal things. But also, I realized as I looked back, the whole experience was a complex reversal of what’s supposed to be normal and everyday. A simple encounter produces...Read more