Regrets? I've had a few, not exactly what I had hoped for...

"Regrets, I've had a few, sang Frank Sinatra with "My Way". Unlike Frank, although I have had few regrets, I have had enough to mention. In any case, my more memorable Sinatra song is, "It was a very good year," which is right up there with Peggy Lee's, "Is that all there is?" as chronicles of my memories, good and bad, satisfying and disappointing.

This is going to be an off-the-top-of-my-head catalog of what in reflection turned out to be mistakes, bad investments, poor judgments and/or regrets in my seventy years, in no particular order, either in terms of chronological order or importance.

• The StreetStrider, summer 2021. I found that I am too old for this extreme workout device, even if I have perfectly flat, smooth asphalt neighborhood streets.

• Mazda RX-7, summer 1979. Trying to impress my tenth high school reunion classmates. And financed under the old Rule of 78.

• Nancy Galli, winter 1973. Inattention led to loss of a possibly perfect college romantic relationship.

• Bought PSINet stock based on Jill Docking's recommendation. The company purchased naming rights for the Ravens' stadium (1999-2002)...then they went bankrupt. Her recommendation on Intel stock also showed minuscule return.

• TIGER bonds, Susan Newton, 1988. Sold on the recommendation of another KU friend. I carried a small, distant crush or infatuation for her. Not a good basis for investing. My bad.

• Peggy Piccolo, summer 1978 and 1979. Bad way to end my Penn State years, and to try to revive them the following summer.

• Losing film from trip around the world, 1997. Poor packing lost me two rolls of film from Chile. And I believe I also destroyed or lost a roll of good film from my travels in England on my internship, in 1973 or 1974.

• Trudi Hoekstra, my beautiful, blonde, Scandinavian high school senior prom date, June 1969. Even with a loaned Corvette and a nice dinner with the Posts, there was nothing of note for the two days of living out what I had thought would be my fantasy culmination of my high school social success. Rather than rent an outfit for the occasion, Paige and Ed had me buy a suit, a green, wool, vested suit, that stood out as a complete mistake in a sea of peers in rented, white dinner jackets. At the end of the night, at the after party at Jill Stevens' estate, I surrendered her to Ron Holehouse and went home quite disconsolate. Compounded with a an even more foolish trip to visit her in Sun Prairie at the end of the year, that ended with me driving from Sun Prairie to Louisville overnight, so she could hook up with her boyfriend there. I flew home to Buffalo, via Pittsburgh, disappointed if not crushed and feeling foolish. I was too smitten to make any sense of the hopelessness of any of my efforts or dreams of making this into a relationship.

• Choosing Penn State over UCLA, 1975. Trip to State College in late Octovber 1974 with my crush of the season, Marnie Fisher (sister of fellow MBA student and Gary Levine fling, Missy Fisher), when I stumbled upon PhD application materials in Kern Hall and completed my application shortly thereafter. Choosing Penn State was not so much a mistake as a possible opportunity cost, a risk not taken, a less bold step than the pursuit of a doctorate at UCLA would have been in 1975. By taking the safe, familial route to study at Penn State, I mistakenly thought that I was going to capture the full collegiate experience that I had missed in my six years at Binghamton by choosing Paige and Ed's alma mater for my doctoral work when I was too lazy or risk-averse to complete my application to UCLA's doctoral program. Almost forty years later, Gaby made up for my sense of lost or missed opportunity to really stretch my boundaries. The Penn State decision may have established the basis for my risk aversion in my career, over flaming ambition and risk-taking. As with many relationships with women, I learned to "take the path of least resistance."

• Diamond Towers, 1987-1992. Trying to capture the urban, yippie lifestyle in Milwaukee with a condo was a mistake. Trying to further update the kitchen and bath with a coat of grey paint was an even bigger mistake. Selling it -- to Mark Cotteleer? -- at a loss was a relief. Lesson learned.

• Driving to Tulsa, just before Christmas, 1981. This one I blame on Bobby and his 'birthday gift,' Alison Berry. For three months that fall I mooned over her, even took her ought to dinner and (arrived late) to see a play in Kansas City. So on this early winter day, in a snowstorm, I never made it to Tulsa. On my drive from Lawrence after the end of fall semester at KU, about ten miles south of Lawrence, I slid into a ditch after skidding and having a glancing blow off of another car, en route to Tulsa to visit Alison's family in Tulsa. So after a tow back to Lawrence, I left for Longview a day our two later in my damaged RX-7, skipping Tulsa. It was never the same again with Alison. Too bad. She was interesting. The RX-7 did not last into the winter of 1982-83, when I taught in Laramie and traded for a more winter-appropriate Honda Accord.

• Docking Valentine's Day 1980 champagne party at the Eldridge House. Strawberries in the champagne, Cindy Trussell, and a crushed quarter panel when pulling out of the hotel parking lot. Need I say more?