Frank Jr., you can be anything you want to be.
—Madame La Savage
I often wonder what my mother would have made of my life if she could have lived into her nineties like her sisters, my aunts Naomi, who is 92, and Hazel, who is 93.
Sure, she would have been proud of me as a man, a father of six wonderful children and five fantastic grandchildren. She would no doubt have celebrated my vindication in the wake of the 2001 Enron scandal, but not without worrying about me when I was first entangled in its murky mess. She would have been much pleased in the way my wife Lolita has bloomed into a family matriarch; she would have adored our homes, our way of life, and my renewed work in international finance; my mother would have also been delighted in the way I jet to Africa at a moment’s notice to advise a head of state on how best to invigorate his nation’s economy.
And she would have loved to sail with me.
I have always been at peace when I sail, and I know it would have been the same for my mother, Madame La Savage. I see her seated on the sunshined deck of my legendary Swan 56, Lolita. La Savage loved the breeze blowing through her meticulously coiffed hair when she drove her fancy Pontiac, a little too fast. I know she would have loved the sea breezes slipping over the bow of my yacht to fast dance in her hair.
I lost my mother in 1981. She lived long enough to see me scale unimaginable heights in the corporate and professional worlds. ...