So it’s a long ways coming, but anyways here’s our update. It’ll be a quick entry, one because at the end of the day nobody really cares THAT much to know the minutiae about our move, but I still have people who text or email and say “dude, where did you go?”

Where we went: New Jersey. Neeeewwww Jeaaarrssaaaaayyy!

Side note: my daughter, Zoe, recently said to me very sincerely “Dad, now that we’ve been here a little while shouldn’t we start talking like them? Like, shouldn’t I start saying “yooooous” instead of “you”? Ummm, no Zoe. Absolutely not. Please don’t even let those thoughts creep into your head.

So on June 1st I started as CEO of DealOn Media, a VC-backed start-up company that is in the Group Buying space (competitors that you might have heard of include GroupOn and Living Social). Here’s eight months of summary at what we did at DealOn: bootstrapped, built great technology, secured some big partners, didn’t close a few big partners we should have, made some brilliant decisions, made some lousy decisions, built a great team of incredibly-talented-and-highly-committed people (this was really the key success factor), tested and trialed to figure stuff out, figured more stuff out, got some momentum, and along we went until we unexpectedly and very rapidly found ourselves in a position where we started to get approached by a lot of buyers.

And, last week it was announced that we were acquired by ReachLocal. I never expected that we would get acquired within eight months, but we did more things right than not, we got a few breaks, we built and accomplished some pretty cool stuff, and we landed with a very successful publicly held Company that’s full of exceptional talent, passion, and commitment. Things I dig. So my Board and DealOn investors are (very) happy, I’m quite certain all of my employees are happy, and I think the buyers are happy…so, therefore, I’m pretty happy. While it wasn’t all fun and games (though we did have some fun, too), this has been one of the most stretching and adventurous business experiences of my life.

Here are a few links to the announcement:

http://www.screenwerk.com/2011/02/15/reachlocal-buys-dealon/

http://www.clickz.com/clickz/news/2026544/reachlocal-buys-dealon-plans-deals-exchange

http://www.socaltech.com/reachlocal_s_zorik_gordon_on_daily_deals/s-0033998.html

So, I left Olympia the end of May, and Erica and the kiddo’s came out in August. We’re at a temp location in Western NJ, and while we miss the West Coast immensely there are quite a few nice things about being on the East Coast–including being much closer to three of my sisters, Erica’s dad, and a MUCH shorter flight to see my parents (at one point on the West Coast we’d gone years since seeing them, and now we see them every few months).

There are things that I really love about being out here (like, that I’m able to write this from a coffeeshop in Manhattan and adore the energy in this town; I literally think my biochemistry changes when I drive through the tunnel to get into Gotham).

And there are things that I don’t love about being out here (like, working out at the gym w/ the natives in New Jersey. It’s not normal, and it’s an experience I hope you can bypass).

But, all in all, it’s part of the adventure we’ve been on and I’m grateful for every minute. Hour. Day. Okay, at least every week.   Seriously, I’m very grateful. And I’ve met some incredible people out here who have changed my life in so many ways.

Erica continues to homeschool, in an environment that isn’t that homeschool friendly or resource laden (“okay, now, which cult did you guys say you belong to again?” I promise, peeps, it’s not that weird; but it was way easier in the NW/Olympia where SO MANY people homeschooled); Royce is booting away the soccer ball in between reading books (I LOVE that she wanted her 9th birthday party to be a “bookstore birthday party” where they all got together at Clinton Bookstore to read and share stories out of books. Go Royce Go!). And, Zoe, ahhhh little Zoe. She’s more creative than ever, has turned into an aggressive little basketball player, and completely adores cooking (often but not always with me, and she’s an avid Food Network viewer). Ahhhhh, I miss our Oly kitchen! She could watch cooking shows for hours on end. It’s pretty darned cute, and I think it might be her gift.

Longer than I expected (it always is), the Raz Family update. The adventure continues…

Part of it is observation. Part self-reflection. Part experience. And part musical influence.

Tonight via Pandora (no question, the best $30 I’ve spent for the ad-free version, and the free version is fine too) I heard for about the 20th time in my life a Coldplay song that never before caught my ear. It’s a song called Amsterdam, and I always liked the song but never even heard a word of the lyrics.

But tonight, perhaps funded by a melancholy mood, I heard the story from a new perspective. Growing up I remember my dad used to only let me listen to “Sunny 95″ in Columbus, Ohio, which was maybe two tones away from classical music. I am sure he never knew that in the late evening hours I listened to the forever-forbidden 97.9WNCI, or even the really rebellious 92X when Suzy Waud was hosting late nights (funny how even 20-years later it comes right back). The reason for the contraband stations was he told me “the words in the songs matter…and some of that ‘acid rock’ isn’t good for your ears or your mind.” (me and my sisters still tease about the ‘acid rock’ comment, but he was probably more right than wrong on this).

Tonight, the words struck me.

And it’s not necessarily because the words resonate with how I’m feeling–but because they’re actually profound, depending upon your interpretation of the story. If you reflect on it, you have felt stuck–massively stuck and perhaps hopeless–at some point in your life. And, having spent the day in Manhattan observing myriads of people, and learning a lot in the past month, it is revealing to me how many people go through the same emotions yet rarely can release the emotions to each other.

To me, it’s a beautiful song about the redemption that friendship and solace can offer during times of headache or heartache; video below from a live event, and the lyrics are listed below the video.

Come on, oh my star is fading
I swerve out of control
If I’d, if I’d only waited
I’d not be stuck here in this hole.

Come here, oh my star is fading
and I swerve out of control
And I swear I waited and waited
I’ve got to get out of this hole.

But time is on your side, it’s on your side now
Not pushing you down and all around
It’s no cause for concern

Come on, oh my star is fading
And I see no chance of release
And I know I’m dead on the surface
But I’m screaming underneath

And time is on your side, it’s on your side now
Not pushing you down and all around
No, It’s no cause for concern

Stuck on the end of this ball and chain
And I’m on my way back down again
Stood on a bridge, tied to the noose
Sick to the stomach

You can say what you mean
but it won’t change a thing
I’m sick of the secrets
Stood on the edge
tied to the noose

She came along and she cut me loose
You came along and you cut me loose
You came along and you cut me loose

As many know, she was born very premature. I’ll skip the details of the story, I’m sure in accumulation or specifically I have a post in here somewhere that details it.

Anyways, lots of long hours in the NICU. Looooong and stressful hours. And as long as they were for us, for the staff there–particularly the nurses–it was a day after after day. Probably without a lot of gratefulness. Likely without tons feedback. And, all too often, seeing a wrenching end to a life just begun that affects families in deep and emotional ways difficult to explain.

So Royce, our oldest, was a perfect product of Morristown Hospital (lots of things contributed, Providence, the Doc’s, modern technology, lots of prayers, and as I’m addressing today, particularly the nurses). So anytime I’m in the area, which is about once a year, I drop off a note thanking whoever from the staff that’s on at that particular time, and generally something like an Ice Cream cake since there’s a Friendly’s right down the street.

Too often I forget about the people who have difficult and often thankless jobs, so maybe this annual pilgrimage to Morristown was my reminder to myself to do a better job of this, as well as to provide a really sincere thanks to some people who transformed our life.

Sometimes I get wrapped up in thinking that for us to make an impact we have to do something exceptional. And, while there are many great illustrations of people doing just that–I think I can find far more from people who do the simple things, consistently, with a lot of heart, and persistence towards excellence.

In my 8+ years of doing these thank-you-drop-by’s, I’ve never once ran into our two Primary nurses from Royce’s stay at the NICU–they just never happened to be on when I was stopping by in the past.

Until this last visit. It was so cool but on my last visit BOTH of her Primary nurses were on duty, Alyssa and Denise were both there that Sunday afternoon when I was making my annual stop. And it brought back a flood of memories to see them both, and a few other emotions. I got some great time with them both, and was reminded about the simple acts of service that can make such a big difference in peoples lives. For us, the big thing was helping ensure some precarious months in the NICU by paying such great attention to Royce. But beyond that, there was a whole level of emotional support they provided as well.

So, today, a shout out of thanks to all the people out there in jobs that don’t get the gratitude that you deserve. Because whether you saved a life, changed a life, or changed a diaper (for someone young or old), you deserve some appreciation–and a reminder, that the stuff you do, even the routine and mundane, can be a game changer for someone else.

You just don’t always know who, or when.

As many of you now know, yesterday with the internal team and today with the entire external field organization I announced publicly my resignation from Univera as the CEO of International. I’ll be wrapping up my time at Univera through the end of May.

I have nothing but the greatest things to say about my time at Univera. The people involved, and particularly each of the field leaders as well as some key people internally (special thanks to Regan, a great boss and friend, as well as my teammates, too many to mention), have been nothing short of exceptional to me–you’ve been true partners all along the way. I’m also grateful to Bill Lee, who has provided me such an incredible opportunity these past four years.

It’s now been 4.5 years, and after several expanded roles at Univera, I can think of no other job in North America that could have stretched me as much as did these past experiences. From good times to exceptionally tough times, from long-term strategic planning to dealing with urgent “today” issues, from driving to objective decisions based on market data to those decisions related almost wholly to heart, emotion and subjectivity, there is no other job that I can think of which would have been as powerful an accelerator in my personal and professional life as this one. It’s been 15-years worth of experience in a little under five years of time. And while I have learned so much, at the same time, I feel like I’m just getting warmed up.

Which puts me at a place in my professional career where, for a variety of reasons, I have selected to take a different path and move onto the next thing professionally. The dream that has existed at Univera for each of you still remains; for me, however, for now my dream and destiny rests elsewhere (the details of which I’m keeping quiet about for now). While I’m very excited about my future, I’m also bittersweet for the reasons each of you know.

What’s next?

As some of you recall, at Convention two years ago when I spoke about our goals and dreams, I made a firm commitment to achieve four goals in my life and created a plan in order to achieve each one. Two have been accomplished (a certain business goal, and also my trip back to Kolkata, India), yet two still remain to be completed–and I’m stubbornly determined to accomplish them both, in addition to some new ones along the way.

The two goals? One is to complete a book I am supposed to write, and it needs to be done this year. The second is a physical health goal, specifically to get down to 15% bodyfat. So I’m still going to succeed at these, no matter how frustrated or off course I’ve been with them both (and as an aside, neither should you be frustrated by any delays in your goal setting/achievement…you can still accomplish them, stick with it, keep re-loading as needed…don’t quit, don’t quit!), and those are going to be a focus this year in addition to my new professional endeavors.

And, there’s more writing I’ll continue to do. It’s not for lack of content that I haven’t blogged for the past month, for a variety of reasons I just felt better to let it rest. But I’m going to continue blogging.

And my focus will largely continue to be about personal development–to try to write in an authentic way, without idle BS that so often peppers our talk that gets in the way of truth, and to try to continue to share stories of people who have done either the ordinary or extraordinary, or have learned lessons along the way.

Some of them are stories of the deepest magnitude, a hero who touched–and saved–so many lives, like that of Rick Rescorla during 9/11. Others have been fun filled gifts of laughter and play, like the Forever Wedding Dance couple who taught us a simple lesson about celebration and having fun. And then there are stories about the unbridled passion to make a difference in the lives of kids–like Geoffrey Canada with the Harlem Children’s Zone. None  of those are original content, simply the pulling of stories of others with a few pieces of commentary alongside.

And it will continue to be sprinkled with some personal stories and anecdotes–some involving my business endeavors and others around personal experiences. So those things will continue, and I hope you’ll freely participate along the way. You can also follow me on Twitter (@richraz2) or on Facebook (“Rich Razgaitis”).

What I get absolutely fired up about is to see people pursue their passion, whatever and wherever that may be, so that each of us can find their destiny and achieve greatness (which, has nothing to do with title or money). These can mean radically different things for all of us. The key, though, for every one of us, is to find and pursue with unbridled passion those things for which you and I were intended.

That is when the magic happens.

It’s the reason that I love movies like Crazy Heart. Stories of redemption, personal calling, overcoming a struggle to achieve greatness. I read a great quote the other day: “Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.” I love to connect with those who are fighting the hard battle–but also remain determined and destined to achieve greatness. At the same time, I would love to imprint upon others a distaste for apathy in a way that makes them sick. Yes, we should hate apathy (in most all cases) because it’s one of the greatest thieves from you pursuing your purpose. Being apathetic is giving up, it’s not caring. And once we’ve lost the heart and passion to care, well, I don’t know how to reignite that again–let alone help someone win.

So onwards with the stories of perseverance towards purpose.

Erica and the girls are both torn yet excited for our future. They, too, went “all in” with us on this Univera journey. I’m thankful for the sacrifices they’ve made to let me have the time and adventure with each of you. They’re ready for the next move, though, and are resilient and excited despite this being bittersweet.

I will miss each one of you. Tremendously. Together we have gone through it all, especially those of you who have been on this journey with me for years. It is, really, too difficult to put into words without sounding trite or filled with hyperbole. There’s a lot that’s happened. A lot we learned. And even more we gained.

So I’ll leave it at this: together we’ve been through it all, and I love you a lot. No matter what.

Thanks for a great journey.

Your friend,

Raz

The reason I write in my blog is to connect with people. Not just from one segment of life, but from many. Usually the focus revolves around finding your purpose, passion, and renewal.

And as part of the thread of stories I try to share experiences and observations in leadership, volunteerism, wellness, as well as some events that are simply personal experiences that fall in none of those particular categories and, might, at times, be more personal.

Today’s entry is one of those. So if the personal aspect is too much, please skip this one today. The first entry that I made a year ago was here: Happy 4th Birthday Buddy.

Here’s today’s entry…

Dear Levi,

Today marks what would have been your 5th birthday.

This year I’m home instead of on the road, and lots has changed in our life–some for the better, and other parts not so much. But we’ve learned a lot, and we’ve grown a lot. God has been really gracious with us, and me, more than I deserve I am sure.

Royce is getting to be such a great soccer player, and has become so exceptionally good at reading. At night she reads to Zoe, sometimes “illegally.” She has a little flashlight that she pulls out after we’ve turned the lights off and I often catch her continuing to read into the evening. Mom makes her stop (as she probably should) but the truth is I sneak in and give her a little thumbs up when I catch her reading and tell her it’s okay. She has such a heart for people, and an exceptional ability to communicate with others. And she’s intense, in a high-achiever way. Perhaps sometimes too intense (that’s probably from my DNA). I admire and love her passion and enthusiasm for life.

Zoe is amazing as well in her own unique way as well, she has such a compassionate heart. And is so incredibly creative. You should see (or maybe you did?) the latest “dog feeder” invention that she made out of who-knows-what materials–I can’t believe what she thinks up! I love it, every day it seems there’s a new contraption for me to scope out. Her ability to develop deep relationships and comprehend complex information is pretty amazing too. She processes so quickly, I love her ability to think thoughtfully and deeply for such a young kid.

I’m so proud of both of them, and so is Mom. And today I know we would be equally proud of you as well. I wish I knew your attributes that I could brag about, someday I’ll find out what those are specifically. I’m sure there would have been, or are, lots.

We talked about you a great deal this week, and more than ever, we miss you.

Yesterday and today, especially.

You might not know it, but Royce and Zoe each have their own “baby song”, which kind of represents them as a kid. This whole thing started with Royce, when she was in the hospital NICU as a preemie and we didn’t know whether she would live–or if she did the kind of life she would have. At many points the outlook was grave. During our daily drive to Morristown Hospital, Mom and I often would hear the song by Marvin Gaye (probably one of my favorite artists) “Aint No Mountain High Enough”, which came to symbolize our confidence and belief that everything would be okay with Royce.

Of course, we still play that song and think about those days. So, naturally, about a year ago Zoe wanted her own “baby” song that represented her! We chose, with a strong bias from Zoe, “I’ve Got a Feeling” by Black Eyed Peas!!! LOL. I think that’s hilarious. You can listen to the song, I think the lyrics are fine, but don’t watch the YouTube video–it’s a little too racy. Especially for up in Heaven. That could be awkward.

So you’re the last one without a song, and yesterday I thought we should pick a song for you on your 5th birthday. I wish you were here to help select it, but I think you’ll dig it. Unanimously we picked “I Can Only Imagine” by Mercy Me. Your mom thought of it first, I can’t tell you how much she misses you. It’s beyond words.

Some people have told us that every year this would get easier. And while time helps heal some things, it doesn’t seem true as it relates to missing you. Every year represents another year without you, and we’re both comforted and saddened as the years go by.

This evening the girls made little cupcakes for you, RoZo decorated yours–it’s the one in the middle, with all the balloon candles. And we went to play laser tag–we’ve never done it before, but the kids thought it would be something you would enjoy doing so they picked it instead of going to some princess movie, which I don’t think you would have liked as well.

There’s one project that I was supposed to do for you several years ago. It’s been on my mind, and I know I’ve been negligent in finishing it and I’m really sorry about it. This is the year. I have to do it, and I want to make a commitment to you that I’ll get it done.

Tonight, as I wrote a year ago, I hope that this message gets to you somehow and in some way. I think it will. Know that we love you so deeply, and we’re so glad that we even had you for a few hours. I wish it had been many years, but the hours and memories that have ensued are better than never having the gift of you in our lives.

Levi, here’s your “baby song.” I hope you enjoy it. Whenever we hear it we’ll think of you.

I love you buddy, no matter what.

Find your passion.

Watch this guy, Jake Shimabukuro, play the Uke and ask yourself if this guy isn’t just amazingly passionate about what he does? With 50-years of training, I couldn’t do what he just did on this YouTube video.

But, the point is that he couldn’t do what YOU’RE supposed to be doing when you’re connected with your passion and purpose.

So he found his, and as a result can do some pretty amazing stuff.

Have you found yours?

Here’s another one that I didn’t intent to post, but it was simply on my heart tonight. So here it is, full of imperfections, my vlog on “Authenticity…From a Friend.”

A friend passed this onto me today, thanks Jan, and it’s such “postable” blog material I had to put it up right away but not without a few comments first.

It starts a little slow and just keeps morphing into this amazing story of a determined spirit to succeed, find a passion and commit to it, and make the most of life as well as hand we’re dealt.

In six minutes I was humbled and inspired. And humbled again.

As I heard the Dad tell his story, and the sacrifices he made to help the dreams of his son, it really made me ask myself a question. If put into that same situation as a Dad, would I have the discipline, humility, and determination to do what he has done? I would hope so, but I am just not sure–he is an amazing man.

And, of course, Patrick Henry Hughes is a pretty exceptional young man himself. All these big muckety muck’s (corporate guys, consultants, speakers, trainers; nothing wrong with them either apart from being overrated) work for years on end to try to deliver profound wisdom and in this little vignette rests a story and lesson I’ll remember for the rest of my life from two “normal” guys in Kentucky.

Patrick, you really are The Man. Pretty sweet stuff you’re made of–same with your Dad.

I used to scoff a bit at the New Year’s resolutions. But no more…

Everybody needs a “restart.” It’s one of the things that made high school or college so great; every year, or ever Semester, you got a do-over. But once you get into working adulthood, the do-overs are a LOT less frequent, and while they can be invigorating they usually are a bit more dramatic (new job, moving, so on). So the very thing that’s great about sleep–the separation of days which results in the proverbial “it’s a new day” sentiments in the morning, is what’s even greater about the New Year on a more broadscale spectrum.

But, you contest, “most New Year resolutions are out the window within weeks or months!”

To which I reply, “so what!”

We will not achieve if we do not try. And our success takes daily work and discipline, but also a day of commitment–otherwise the subsequent days won’t just magically follow. And sometimes, just sometimes, that newfound commitment requires a “new day.” Not always, but it sure can be helpful. So, I’ve come to really appreciate the little gifts we’re given, like a new day, a new week, a new year, and in this case as well a new decade.

So here it is…A few of my commitments that I’m making for the year.

1. Get it shape. Really get in shape. For 16 months I have had this goal of working towards 15% bodyfat (or less) while also exercising and eating well. I’ve ebbed and flowed on this one. And patellar tendonitis this past fall kept me from running my marathons and I fell off my eating wagon. Well, no mas! Erica and I have committed to really make health a priority this year. With my work hours, sometimes relentless travel, as well as natural cravings (I just love food–it’s that simple) I struggle with this one. But enough of the excuses. You’re all busy too. So, we’re getting in shape. We’re changing how we eat. We’re cleaning out the cupboards of junk. And we’re going to fight as best we can the constant deluge of our sugar-crazed society. How are we doing it? South Beach Diet and a rigorous exercise program for 90-days to kick start us, followed by a moderate and sustainable program. And I’m committing to run one marathon this year, barring any more tendonitis. Which isn’t going to happen! Done.

2. Personal development. I used to sell Cutco knives. And I did pretty well. But apart from all the money I made, what I really earned was the benefit of hours and hours and hours of personal development. It was part of my daily personal life as well as our weekly sales meetings, sometimes I taught them and sometimes I listened. But I always learned something–and it’s a behavior that is easy to let fall by the wayside. This next year I’m not going to let myself work on personal development “when it’s convenient”, but instead I’m going to work on it in a consistent and disciplined way. How am I going to do this? Using Success Magazine and it’s website, Philosophers Notes, TED, among other resources–including a little bit of work on developing some Spanish speaking skills.

3. Philanthropy. Last January I spent a few weeks abroad doing work, which probably in my mind receives the least amount of attention for meaningful contributions this past year (I tend to think of my success based on the metrics and results, which is important but can also be misleading) yet in actuality it was probably some of the best work that I did this past year. This coming year, I want to and should do more. And it doesn’t need to involve traveling anywhere, I can do it right in my local community. I volunteer with the Hands On Children’s Museum in Olympia, where I want to spend more time. Also to help better promote and raise contributions for the great Univera Serve First program that helps provide nourishment to children everywhere. But there’s much more I’d like to contribute beyond this–financially and with my time.

There’s more, of course. I’m going to spend more time with the family. Be a better Dad. Develop more spiritually. Turn the phone off more. Improve my professional skills. Grow our business faster…

We all have our things we want to do. I believe one of the keys to keep committing, not give up, re-commit and re-commit, discipline, fail and get back up, and on and on. That’s part of the fun of a New Year. A redo, of sorts. And chance to make a (re)new commitment. I’m sure there will be some stumbles as I work towards my goals, and yours as well. But if we keep on pressing we will be far better off, than if we allowed ourselves the passivity and doubt that lies hiding in wait in our minds and bodies at times.

Happy New Year. Let’s make it a great start to an outstanding year!

Our departure from NJ to Cincy, one of our many moves with Dune...Heidi to the right in the foreground, our beloved St Bernard who tolerated many adventures

On Wednesday night I went for one last drive. Forever.

I’m a little obsessive about cars–and they don’t have to be expensive. I just am particular about, and have a love for, automobiles in general.

Just like a Cowboy from the 1800′s would have felt about his horse, that’s how I feel about four wheels and an engine. But the love ain’t just for any car. There’s a certain enthusiasm I have for some more than others, even a personification of sorts–beyond just the fact that I name my cars.

My second favorite car got totaled in North Dakota at 2am in the middle of nowhere, it was a 560 SEL (his name was Copenhagen) and, wow, how I loved that car. But it was that carnal kind of lustful love, not that enduring stuff.

So I was comforted by the fact that we still had our Toyota Land Cruiser (a fairly gender neutral name; Dune, but I think it was a “she”, right Erica?). Now, this Land Cruiser, she even eclipsed my love for the 560 SEL. It was that deep heart-felt like love in an almost emotional sense (you’ll see)–as much as one can love an SUV. In part, this was because she was such an exceptional car in every single way that I could possibly articulate, but even more so because of the spectacular memories embedded in the nearly 10-years we owned her.

RoZo camping with Dune in the background, our first trip ever camping

Tonight, I went for one last drive in her. Some reckless guy driving a three ton Dodge Ram did just that into the rear end of Dune at quite a speed; ultimately, all I cared about is that Erica and the girls were safe. They were, and for that I am so exceptionally grateful and relieved. And, once again, thankful to Dune for doing her duty to protect my family. One final time.

Now that it’s been weeks, though, the adjusters have come and gone, I’ve haggled with the insurance companies, and it’s time for the wrecker to come tomorrow. Nobody understood on paper the value Dune meant to me, and it was almost with outrage when the adjuster provided a final settlement number. It was then, that I realized, just how much I’d come to love Dune.

A week before the salvage yard was to come, each day I left the driveway she was the last thing I looked at when I drove off, and the first thing I saw when I came home–my familiar and reliable friend, I knew, would soon be gone.

So the night before the wreckers came I went, by myself, to say my final goodbye .And, as silly as this sounds, it was hard. Really hard. Like, almost-tears-in-the-eyes and punch-in-the-stomach kind of hard.

Dune was more faithful and reliable than some friends I’ve had, and for nearly ten years and almost 150,000 miles steadfastly carried us everywhere experiencing nearly every abuse that a family could throw her way.

Dune digging thru the snow on a winter blast a year back

But what grabbed at my heart were the memories. When we left New Jersey to move to the Midwest, it was Dune that took us there, with little Royce not even weighing yet four pounds sitting in the back on her first ever road trip–we’d just gotten her home from the hospital weeks earlier (after she had been there months having been born extremely prematurely), and I remember being so worried about going on a 10-hour trip while she was still so tiny and premature. And Royce loved every mile in that journey with Dune, looking out the expansive windows across the countryside as we took her first long drive.

And Dune was also the car that I used to take Royce to the hospital right after her 3rd birthday when she could barely breathe due to a lung infection and other respiratory issues. I can still remember looking at her gasping for breath as I kept glancing in the rear view mirror ever while putting my foot on the gas speeding down route 50 in Cincinnati wondering what else to do, or if I should call an ambulance instead. And her seeing the anxiety in my eyes, I can still hear so well Royce barely panting out to me in a whisper “You okay, Dad? You okay? Are you okay, Dad?” which only caused me to have to fight back the tears even more.

Dune was my buddy who brought me and Erica to the hospital when her water broke (Erica’s, not Dune ) and she delivered Zoe via a c-section. And in the same SUV, two days later, we brought little Zoe safely home.

Erica and RoZo enjoying one of their first firework displays from the back of Dune's tailgate

Dune was there for us when we transported Heidi in the back seat, our beloved St. Bernard for five years who lived with us through the beginnings of marriage and even the devastating attacks on 9/11 when we lived in Manhattan just three blocks south of the World Trade Center, when we had to give her away to another family after she lunged after–and nearly bit–another child. It was hard to give a pet away but something we had to do, and I remember watching Erica cry as we drove off in Dune–just the three of us.

And Dune was the vehicle that faithfully took us on a myriad of fun family adventures all across the United States, her interior having been adorned with boiled peanuts from Florida, peach pie from Georgia, boiled lobsters from Maine, buffalo jerky and rocky mountain fudge from Colorado, and probably what has amounted to gallons (over the years) of spilled coffee–particularly from our most recent years living near Seattle.

My most memorable moment being the drive back from Lamar Valley late one evening in Yellowstone National Park where we camped last summer with Dune and our trailer. It was a very late night drive home to our campsite, yet little Zoe, who was five at the time, was wide awake while Royce was practically asleep in a coma. And Zoe littered me with questions that I would have expected from a teenager, talking about what she wanted to do with her life, asking me questions about God and life on earth and family matters, telling me some of her most sincere thoughts that were wrapped in such an inexplicable maturity.

It was among the most memorable hour-long drives of my life, with the black and expansive Wyoming sky lit up with a spray of stardust, the smell of the warm western winds blowing through the sunroof, Erica at my side wearing a cowboy hat, and Royce sleeping sweetly while Zoe peppered me with both intriguing questions and heartfelt commentary all along the way back riding in the sound protection of Dune. I will never forget those moments.

On our way to Wyoming in Dune, the best family trip we've ever had

As I took my final turn in Dune last Wednesday night, one final memory engulfed me. Perhaps this, in addition to all the others, is why saying goodbye is so hard for me.

I remembered the time Erica drove herself to the hospital in Dune while pregnant with Levi at almost 23 weeks, and I can still feel the experience so vividly, so raw with emotions, coming home in Dune without Levi a few days later. And for every year thereafter, I have always looked at the third seat in the second row of Dune and have felt that it was missing our third child. As Royce or Zoe were either fighting or cackling with laughter, or even sleeping sweetly, I would visualize little Levi being in between the both of them to break it up, start it up, or sleep it up. And because I couldn’t have him, at least I cherished the memories, which to some degree were built around Dune and the other memories of my family and all our adventures together. Over so many years of moves and transitions, Dune was one of my faithful companions along the way. So it’s hard to say goodbye.

A flood of these memories, some filled with humor and others flat out desperation, rumbled through my mind during 20 final minutes with Dune as we limped along one last trek. She was a faithful friend for so many years, that gave me an experience that I can’t explain, quite simply because the memories can’t be replaced.

A final goodbye to Dune, you well served our family with amazing memories