"G'MAR CHATIMA TOVA"

Yom Kippur is the Jewish day of atonement on which the tribe fasts and goes to temple to privately confess your evil deeds, thus earning a tabla rasa for another year to repeat the ways of the flesh in violation of the Ten Commandments. Personally I wouldn't go to temple or church. I am an atheist. I fear neither heaven nor hell nor guilt, then again we are all guilty of something, which is how the police justify arresting the wrong person.

"He committed a crime. The question is only what crime."

Many. Last year I lied, denied the existence of God, and nearly killed the driver of an oncoming car, when I fell asleep at the wheel. I did not cheat on my wives, I honored my father and mother, and I worshipped no false god. No true god either.

This omission endangered my immortal soul. The only remedy might be an act of contrition via the sacrament of confession.

"Bless me father for I have sinned. It's been a long time since my last confession."

I can't remember how long.

Two decades? Three?

Thirty-one years ago I swam in the Ganges at Varanasi. That feat expiated all my previous sins. So I only have the last thirty-one years of sins to negate somehow.

Good deeds?

I've done a few of those on occasion, but while the road to Hell is paved by good intentions, the surface has been greased by the bad.

I am sorry for a lot, but then again too little to mention, because I did it my way.

When in doubt, quote Frank Sinatra.

Old Blue Eyes won't steer you wrong.

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Berth on Nantucket

Frank Sinatra brought his 21 year-old bride Mia Farrow to Nantucket on a rented yacht. My family was holidaying on that mythic isle at the same time. Mia had just finished filming ROSEMARY'S BABY.

Mia Farrow was five years older than me.

Not like Frank Sinatra, but my love was reserved for Janet Stetson, who was the head cheerleader for my hometown's football team. I was true, but when my mother insisted on a holiday detour to view Sinatra's yacht we were rewarded with a sighting of the two super stars.

Mia was so young.

So beautiful.

21.

So unique.

I tried to make eye contact with the wiafish blonde, hoping she would invite on board, so we could sail the Seven Seas.

I failed in my quest.

Later that week Janet asked if I thought she was beautiful.

"Not as beautiful as you."

"She smiled, knowing a lie when she heard one and laughed thinking that I was hers.

It was good to be young in the 1960s.

As long as you weren't in Viet-Nam.