By Sindy Becker
Janus is the Roman god of doors and thresholds. Positioned in the present, his dual visage faces backward, to the past, as he gazes forward to the future. For the first time in more than three decades. I have not spent this week in a frenzy of activity, making preparations to orchestrate the Fleischmanns Tennis Tournament. Dubbed by Mark Birman “a labor of love,” the love ultimately required more labor than I, and my forever right-hand man Malcolm were physically able to sustain. The luxury of time without pressure allows me the opportunity to Janus-like reflect on what has occurred these past 34 years, and project as to what may be.