Time scales everything

I had the pleasure of being at an intimate dinner party with Bob Simon, an extraordinary man of whom, quite frankly, I had never heard of prior to our encounter at the dinner table. Bob happened to be the same Robert E. Simon, Jr., who founded the planned suburban living community now known as Reston (His initials, R.E.S. +town).

A founder of a town?, you might say, surely it takes more than one person to establish such a thing. I too had my doubts, but after two hours of the most magnificent stories, I will gladly give him all due accreditation.  He brought the brownstone townhouses of New York City to the suburbs, zoned cul-de-sacs, created multi-value-level neighborhoods to encourage socio-economic blending at the single-family home level, wanted to make a place where one can “live, work and play.” Today, more people come to Reston to work than leave Reston to work. Who would ever have thought that one man’s plan nearly 75 years ago would thrive so vividly today?

His impressive credentials aside – a Harvard grad, accomplished singer, practiced businessman all rolled into one – I was most impressed by something innately human – Bob is 99 years old. He will be 100 in April. He has more stories to tell than others have time to listen to. He is forgiven for forgetting. He presides at the head of every dinner table, is always asked to say grace, and is the first to be served seconds. He attends community events as a member of the community, from the weekly Farmer’s Market to the Fourth of July celebrations.

His father did business regularly with Andrew Carnegie. He was 11 years old when the Great Gatsby was published. He went to a Rachmaninoff concert in his teens. He went to Harvard at a time when meals for an entire week cost $8, back when it was an all-male University. He attended lectures by George Gershwin regularly. He vividly remembers the Black Tuesday Crash of 1929 and served in World War II. He inherited Carnegie Hall in his twenties, single-handedly operated the programming of the hall for many years, prevented it from being demolished, and sold it, taking his earnings and funding his suburban dream.

I hope I will live up to being 100 and not just live to be 100. How we spend our days is ultimately how we spend our lives. While I know that I will never inherit Carnegie Hall, the doors are open and there’s nothing holding me back – cheers to the next 80 years.