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| Darryl Nyznyk |
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Anton Chekhov said, “Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass.” To live a life not only seeing that glint of light but feeling the excitement of the evening it portends, is that to which I have aspired. I choose not simply to exist in a mundane world of fear and responsibility, but to cherish each moment and find its unique significance - in short, to live a life of passion.
My boyhood adventures building forts of stone and bush and tree houses of discarded wood while protecting them from the marauding hordes of neighborhood vandals, racing hand-made, human-powered go-carts to scrapes, bruises and vehicular destruction, playing Little League baseball amidst the sweet fragrance of new-mowed spring grass, participating in unorganized, un-chaperoned games of over-the-line or football with buddies, while staying out of Mom’s hair “until the street lights come on,” and eyeing the prettiest girls with awe and the occasional churn of the stomach when they looked back, were enriched by the “glint of light on broken glass” from the stories of Jules Verne, Mark Twain, and Edgar Rice Burroughs.
I obtained a bachelor’s degree in Economics from U.C. Santa Barbara during the tail end of the Viet Nam war. I transferred there shortly after the students rioted in protest of the war and blew up the Isla Vista Bank of America. The campus was a hot-bed of anti-establishment activity, political activism, streaking, partying, drugs, day-long Grateful Dead concerts, and baby boomer coming-of-age stories. It was a wild time and a wild place and it ingrained in me a sense of individualism intertwined with societal obligations that have helped shape my core.
My law degree came from the University of San Diego whence I graduated “Magna Cum Laude,” to the shock of most people in attendance, including myself.
For the next twenty years, I worked in the private practice of law handling business and real estate. I represented big guys and little guys and had good success as well as unhappy failure. For the nine years after private practice, I was general counsel and then President of a Southern California real estate development company.
To say my life’s greatest accomplishments were my marriage to Loretta and my participation in the lives of our four daughters would sound trite and somewhat cliché if it wasn’t true. I was incredibly lucky to set eyes on my bride after a homecoming high school football game during my third year of college. Together, we have created an awesome life, laughing often and crying occasionally as we rocked sick babies, coached every conceivable sport, shuffled kids to music, sports, school and friends’ houses, helped with homework, consoled when friends were “so mean” and boyfriends “didn’t care,” and constantly guided our daughters’ life journeys. We’ve held Baptisms, First Communions, birthdays, graduations, block parties, barbeques, beach parties, camping trips, vacations, college visits, and weddings. But most of all, we’ve danced to Bruce Springsteen’s “Waitin’ on a Sunny Day.”
To those young ladies I’ve had the pleasure to coach in soccer, softball, and basketball, I am grateful for the fun and excitement we shared. It is to all of them, as well as friends and foes in school and business that I dedicate the my stories for it is out of the joys, frustrations, angers and smiles we’ve shared that my stories spring.
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