“Go with the flow,” Harry whispered to us a few weeks before he died.

Harry shared this same mantra with me and his first cousin Stephanie Bressler when we stayed at the Lark in May. Stephanie and Harry grew up together as children in the ‘50s living a block away from each other in Tower City, Pennsylvania.

Smiling and poised in our second-floor room for a few minutes that day, Harry’s aura glowed brighter than the vivid red, white and blue neon sign outside the classic Stone Harbor, New Jersey, family motel where he lived and worked for about 50 years. A stellar prophet with all the right numbers plugged into the cosmos, each day Harry saw astrological truth in the stars and planets as his beatific vision enlightened many people blessed to know him over many years.

Countless co-workers, vacationers and neighbors who loved Harry listened and learned from his clear perception and often silly charm. A solitary mountain yogi living by the sea, Harry’s intellect, gentle spirit and good humor simply helped us feel good.

Our happiness mattered to Harry.

So the next time you look to the morning sky from the beach or anywhere else in this world, let your heart hear Harry playing one of his beloved Broadway show tunes on the piano. Take those few sacred moments to bask in the warmth of the rising sun and give thanks for nature’s way. Next time you think of Harry think of riding the wind forever like a majestic monarch butterfly gliding high above white sand on the softest summer day.

Above all, take Harry’s advice.

Go with the flow.

Just go with the flow.