In the April 1966 issue of Esquire, Gay Talese wrote the following about Frank Sinatra and a common malady: ". . . it was a bad idea to force conversation upon him when he was in this mood of sullen silence, a mood that had hardly been uncommon during this first week of November, a month before his fiftieth birthday. He was the victim of an ailment so common that most people would consider it trivial. But when it gets to Sinatra it can plunge him into a state of anguish, deep depression, panic, even rage. Frank Sinatra had a cold. Sinatra with a cold is Picasso without paint, Ferrari without fuel -- only worse."

Last year, I had a cold from my 42nd birthday, the last week of November, to the middle of January. Being an educator (I so despise the word teacher. To me, it evokes the lowly school marm teaching the kids on the handheld slate chalkboards made infamous on "Little House on the Prarie.") I have to come in contact with 500 of the little urchins daily. When they begin sneezing and snorting around the beginning of November, I always end up with a cold. For two years, I left the "honorable profession" to obtain my masters degree. During that period, I never had a cold.

At 42, I make it my duty to be generous to a fault. I always have. In some instances, it's burned me, but in most instances my friends and some vague acquaintances have walked away with smiles on their faces. Always the host, just like Sinatra. As I conclude my 43rd year on this marble, I have come to the realization about several things:

(1)Never drink the liquor from the bar rail, always drink the high dollar stuff. It may cost a bit more and you may only be able to afford one maybe two drinks, but you don't sacrifice taste.

(2) Either spend a little more and buy your haberdashery from a higher end men's store or go the whole route and have it handmade. You may spend a bit more, but you will not sacrifice quality.

(3) Tip generously. Depending on the service and the promptness thereof I always try to tip at least 20% (and in many instances, more). Now if the service is bad, they are lucky to get a dollar, and even luckier if their manager doesn't receive a phone call.

Now friends, you may ask what is this quadogenarian ranting about? I'm saying when it comes to booze, clothes and tipping don't go second class, go first class. Life is too short to go half way. Now I realize that my advice depends on how deep your wallet is. That's obvious. I freely admit that I've had to go low before in all facets of my life. However, with hard work, I have now become able to wear some of the nicer suits and drink some of the more expensive grape and leave some nice tips for the college kids who have been my waiters.

In the long run, its not gonna matter in 30 years what clothes you wore or what wine you have drunk, what matters is what mark did you leave. When Sinatra left in May of 1998, he left a mark a mile wide, I can only hope that when I leave, I will have left an effect on many lives. It's all anyone can hope.