Content by The Un-Comfort Zone With Robert Wilson

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The Un-Comfort Zone With Robert Wilson
I was leaving my last class for the day when I saw my friend, Ken Frankel, working out in the hallway with one of those pistol-grip label makers. I stopped and asked what he was doing. “The dean...
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The Un-Comfort Zone With Robert Wilson
On a summer weekend in 1977, my friend Tony and I made plans to go water-skiing. When he picked me up there were two people in the car that I did not know. He introduced his new girlfriend, Sue, and...
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The Un-Comfort Zone With Robert Wilson
In the early 1970s I was a young teenager who was completely caught up in the Zeitgeist. I admired the long-haired rebels and radicals who were engaged in protesting the establishment and developing...
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The Un-Comfort Zone With Robert Wilson
“H ola!” “Hola. ¿Qué tal?” “Bien. ¿ y tu?” “Bien.” Paul and I were 16 years old and had taken Spanish for a year. We called each other every night on the phone and spoke to each other in...
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The Un-Comfort Zone With Robert Wilson
My sons recently started talking about being cool, and I recalled my own teenage years and the need to be cool. That driving desire dictated the clothes I wore, the music I listened to, and what...
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The Un-Comfort Zone With Robert Wilson
On June 29, 1863, a 23-year-old First Lieutenant received an unexpected promotion. The freckle-faced, strawberry blonde, who graduated at the bottom of his class at West Point, was elevated directly...
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The Un-Comfort Zone With Robert Wilson
“Writing is not a job; it’s a hobby!” thundered my father when I told him my plans for college. “You need to get a profession: Medicine, law, engineering, or accounting.”  I cheerlessly...
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The Un-Comfort Zone With Robert Wilson
The sweet strains of a Puccini aria cut through the Saturday night clatter of the busy Italian restaurant in New York City, but it wasn’t coming from the aging voice of the Sicilian baritone, who...