A few years ago, Lisa and I, along with my sister Karen, and brother-in-law Kevin, travelled to Italy. I had never visited the land of my ancestors, although I had heard many, many times of its historic architecture, its stunning beauty and the warmth of its people. In my mind’s eye, I knew exactly what to expect and what I would see.

Last month I was on a United Airlines flight travelling from San Diego to Chicago. A colleague, Jim and I had spent the previous two days in beautiful Southern California meeting with common clients regarding their financial and tax affairs.

Late last fall I flew myself up to our log home in Michigan for a few days of fishing, reading and relaxing. Alone in the North Woods, I spent the days fishing for Steelhead trout in the famous (at least in fly fishing circles) Pere Marquette River. The PM, as it is affectionately known by locals, was named for the French priest/explorer whose remains are said to rest at the confluence of the river and Lake Michigan.