.

 

 

This is my dad.

 

He was a cool guy—and I’m going to brag on him for a minute.

 

He was a jazz musician, entrepreneur, handyman, convenience store owner, military man, and so much more.

 

He had the deepest voice.

 

And he was strong like you wouldn’t believe.

 

Shaking his hand was like shaking hands with a catcher’s mitt.

 

More than anything, he was a good man.

 

He taught me to work hard and always do the right thing.

 

He already had a full life before he met my mom, and he brought four kids who weren’t his from another country to be a father to them.

 

No small task.

 

He came out of retirement to do this, and we struggled financially—but he did all he could.

 

He worked during the day and played music on the weekends.

 

And I’m not just saying this—my dad was one of the best jazz drummers in the business.

 

He had a touch on the drums that was unbelievable.

 

He was discovered as a kid, banging on buckets.

 

From there, he played with some of the top jazz musicians of his time.

 

Eventually, he retired and moved to Las Vegas.

 

Before that, when we lived together in New Jersey, he played regularly in Atlantic City.

 

As he got older, I saw him less and less—him living out west and me on the East Coast.

 

When I did visit, most of the times he’d just sit and watch TV.

 

He played some when he first got to Vegas, but eventually he stopped. I was concerned. He was gaining weight, and his health wasn’t great.

 

I spoke to him a few times about playing drums again.

 

He’d just say, “I don’t feel like dragging those things up there and back.”

 

I wasn’t good at arguing with him—but I wish I had done it more.

 

Watching him sit in front of the TV made me sad, because I knew he had so much more left in him.

 

He died a few years later much too young.

 

That situation taught me something—when I was younger, and even more as I get older:

 

Find a purpose. Stay engaged.

 

Life can definitely get you down.

 

We lose jobs. We lose people. We suffer losses we never imagined.

 

It’s easy to give up.

 

To just scroll. Watch TV. Drift.

 

It’s easy to get into trouble when we don’t have a purpose.

 

I’ll share more about this in another post, but I believe this lack of purpose is one of the things that contributed to the Epstein debacle.

 

I don’t consider myself above losing my way.

 

But I was fortunate to be taught that purpose matters.

 

It’s not just about taking up a hobby or going to the gym —it’s about filling a need.

 

About making things better here on planet Earth, in some small way.

 

Recently, I heard a song I’d never heard before—and I love when that happens.

 

Finding a new song feels like finding a new friend.

 

After 30 years, Billy Joel released a song called Turn the Lights Back On.

 

He said it was about wondering if he still had what it takes after all these years.

 

Listening to it, he sure did.

 

I included the song below for you to listen to.

 

When you hear it, think about yourself—not someone else.

 

I know I struggle at times to keep the lights on inside me: I think we all do.

 

To keep caring, stay grateful, smile more, to be joyful.

 

We can become complicit, bored and lose interest in our life.

 

But we keep the lights on when we’re working toward a purpose—and when we remember that each of us has one to fulfill.

 

So Dad—here’s to you.

 

Thank you for teaching me to keep the lights on.

 

Thank you for everything you gave me.

 

Love,

 

Bert

 

P.s  “If this resonates, I work with people who want to keep the lights on.”

 

Billy Joel: Turn the Lights Back On: