What Happened to the Last 20 Years?

Photo: Dicemanic

Over the past few weeks, I’ve had multiple conversations with people my age about how quickly time flies. I’m 46 years old, but it seems like I should be 26.

I say that because I have so many unmet expectations – ones that are typical of a twenty-something, including marriage, children, an established career, and financial security.

Marriage has eluded me, which means having children has too. One friend says it may be the result of me having a high sense of duty. He’s probably right. Whenever I see a need in my family, I try to meet it – from caregiving to stepping into the gap when someone else leaves. And I’ll be honest, more than once I’ve wondered if my turn would ever come. I don’t say that as a victim – at least I don’t think I do. It’s just an honest question.

Over the years, some have told me I deserve my turn – my shot at a family and children and that I can’t always be expected to play a supporting role. I agree with them. And if the right woman had come along, I would be married by now. But since she hasn’t, I do what I believe I’m supposed to do. I step into the gap, and I do so without any regret.

My career isn’t where I thought, or hoped it would be. In my twenties I had no idea what I wanted to do, so I did what most people do. I filled out applications and took a job. When I got tired of one, I took another one. I didn’t stumble into the possibility of writing professionally until I attended a writer’s conference in 1998. I was 32 years old then, and still had a lot to learn. It was seven years before my first book was published.

Six books and hundreds of articles later, I have a pretty good handle about the type of writing I enjoy most. Nothing satisfies me more professionally than telling an athlete’s story. I don’t care about his statistics or awards. I care about his journey. One editor tells me I gravitate toward the blue collar athlete and I think he’s right.

Last summer, I interviewed Kansas City Royals’ outfielder Mitch Maier about his journey through the minor leagues, hoping to eventually land in the big leagues for good. I wrote the story as a freelancer for the Yahoo! Contributor Network and a couple of thousand people read it. Neither the piece, nor the traffic it attained, was earth-shattering, but I hope it accurately portrayed Maier’s heart and maybe gave fans a glimpse into his struggle.

During the 2012 College World Series, I wrote a story about a father and son who caught a home run ball during a 1998 CWS game and for years they wanted to return it to the player who hit it. After the story ran, I was curious to see if I could find the player. It didn’t take me long. He called the boy, who is no longer a boy, and that led to the player getting his ball back. And of course, it led to another article that was a blast to write.

Once I learned what I wanted to write, I started looking for a position as a sports feature writer with local and national publications. So far, every door I’ve knocked on has been closed. I’ll keep knocking, but I wonder if it’s too late.

It seems like I should have figured out this, and so much more, twenty years ago.

‘Parenthood’ Season Finale Satisfying; Is it the End?

Ray Romano plays Hank
Photo: Tom Caltabiano,
Wikimedia Commons

I wrote an article for Yahoo! Voices about the season four finale of NBC’s Parenthood that aired last night. If you are interested, here’s the beginning of the article, followed by a link.

The season four finale of NBC’s Parenthood felt like a series finale.

Kristina got an all-clear on her cancer, at least for now, and she ended up on a beach in Hawaii with Adam. Drew was accepted into Berkeley, severing ties with Amy, who is bound for Tufts in Boston. Joel and Julia officially adopted Victor. Jasmine tells Crosby she’s pregnant. And Amber and Ryan got back together. Ryan even got his job back.

Sarah’s storyline is a bit of a loose end. She rejected Mark in favor of Hank and then learns Hank is moving to Minnesota to be near his daughter. Even though he asks Sarah to join him there, you get the feeling she won’t. So, maybe her storyline isn’t really a loose end.

The beauty of Parenthood is its humanity. It’s not as much about whether the characters will make the right decisions as it is about how the Braverman family rallies around each other, even when they don’t agree. The overriding theme of the series is that their love for one another conquers their disagreements and heartaches and they find great security in that – so much so that they reach out to others in their own brokenness and pain.

The season finale contained several such moments.

Keep reading

How Do People In Your Life Express Themselves?

I’m reading a nonfiction book called Homer’s Odyssey. It’s about a woman named Gwen Cooper who adopted an eyeless stray cat nobody else wanted. It’s a beautiful love story.

When Cooper adopted Homer, she was single, living with a friend, working at a nonprofit, never had more than fifty dollars in the bank at the end of the month – and she had two other cats. She had a lot of perfectly good reasons to pass on Homer. And she almost did. Before meeting him for the first time, she makes this observation:

“I should note that, prior to this, I had never taken an I’ll meet him and we’ll see attitude when it came to pet adoption. It never occurred to me to meet the pet in question first, to see if he was ‘special’ or whether there was some sort of unique bond between us. My philosophy when it came to pets was much like that of having children: You got what you got, and you loved them unconditionally regardless of whatever their personalities or flaws turned out to be.”

As a result, she says she felt dishonest driving to the vet’s office that day. But she couldn’t help but wonder how a cat without any eyes could convey expression. Homer answered that question for her.

As she interacted with him, he responded to her voice and cuddled against her shoulder. Then she realized something. “It isn’t the eyes that tell you how someone is feeling or what they’re thinking. It’s the muscles around the eyes, which pull the corners up or push them down, crinkle them at the edges to convey amusement or narrow them into slits indicating anger ... And I could tell, from the shape the muscles were taking, that if he’d had eyelids they would have been half closed in an expression ... of utter contentment.”

Homer found a home that day.

A few years ago, I adopted a cat named Latte. She can be wild as all get out sometimes and I wondered early on if I made a mistake in choosing her. Reading between the lines, the woman at the shelter told me Latte had already been returned once and I got the feeling that she was close to becoming unadoptable, which meant certain death. Maybe that’s what made her so adoptable in my eyes. Well, that, and the snow job she put on the day we met. She was the picture of tranquility.

I only learned about her wild side after we got home. But she has a loving side as well. Right away, she developed a habit of curling up in my lap while I’m watching TV at night. She rubs her head against my cheek as we drift off to sleep. She begs for attention whenever I get home. And she loves to be around people so much that she prefers not to eat unless someone is in the room with her. That means her food and water bowls are next to my recliner in the living room.

Cooper’s philosophy about pets, and children, rings true to me. You got what you got, and you love them unconditionally.

In fact, I think her philosophy applies to all personal relationships.

No doubt, that’s easier said than done. But maybe our relationships would be a little stronger if we took the time to find each other’s way of expressing ourselves and then met each other there. Some speak with their eyes (or eye muscles). Some speak through their passion for music, art or literature. And others speak by the choices they make.

How do people in your life express themselves?

An Unorthodox Christmas

A white Christmas ... a new(er) car ... and the grill (note:
the fire isn't as close to my car as it looks in this photo).

I need a white Christmas.

I don’t think it has anything to do with childhood memories, or even falling prey to Hallmark Channel overload (I watched 13 Christmas movies this year) during which every movie has a snowy Christmas Eve scene thirty seconds after everything has been resolved.

Okay, maybe subconsciously childhood memories or perfect movie endings have shaped my desires, but thankfully we had a snowstorm last Thursday, so I got my white Christmas. We even had a little snow on Christmas Eve, so maybe I am trapped inside a Hallmark movie.

Other than the snow and a few other instances, this Christmas was a bit unorthodox for me. Not in a bad way. Just in the truest sense of the word – it broke with convention.

It started last week when my mini-van was dying. I’m not really a mini-van sort of guy, but at the time I bought it, it was the best vehicle on the lot in my price range. So I became a soccer single guy (doesn’t quite roll off your tongue like “soccer mom,” does it?). But it’s been sputtering over the past month or so and the perpetual check engine light wasn’t just for Christmas decoration. So, I traded the mini-van for a new(er) Ford Focus with a warranty.

When I drove it off the lot a day after the snowstorm, evening was setting in. The melting snow was turning to ice and that’s never a good time to drive a new(er) car for the first time. I was also late for a Christmas party. And I had to drive across town to pick up a friend first.

I crept along the icy streets and was a nervous wreck by the time I picked up my friend. But we made it to the Christmas party safely and I was laughing in no time.

So, unorthodox situations aren’t always a bad thing.

On Christmas Day, my family gathered at Mom’s. We followed our orthodox annual routines – I grilled steaks and chicken in single degree weather, we ate a huge meal and we opened gifts.

Afterward, we went unorthodox.

Rather than watching football or a Christmas movie, I popped in a few home videos (yes, videos) of Christmases past and we oohed and awed over hairstyles, tight jeans and various other fashion faux pas of the 1990s. But once we got past those, we shed tears of joy and sadness over seeing and hearing loved ones who are no longer with us. 

As I watched the videos, I realized how poor my memory can be sometimes. My parents divorced when I was eight and after that my sister and I spent Christmas Eve with my Dad’s side of the family and Christmas Day with my Mom’s side – or so I thought. One video showed all of us together on Christmas Day. I have no memory of that, but I’m thrilled that we recorded it.

After the celebration was over and I was back home, I decided to watch “A Christmas Story.” So many people make it part of their annual tradition, but I’ve never seen it. At the risk of offending nearly everybody, I turned the movie off at the halfway point.

I expected a nostalgic, corny, cheesy trip down memory lane. But the movie stepped over all three lines, into the ridiculous. The scene in which Ralphie envisions himself going blind one day because his mom made him wash his mouth out with soap that contained a dangerous chemical did it for me.

Overall though, I enjoyed the mixture of unorthodox and orthodox Christmas moments this year. How about you? Have anything unusual, or even usual, to share about the way you spent the holiday?

Renewing a Christmas Tradition

John (left) and I (right) posed with
the 1,735 diapers last year

On Friday night a couple of my friends (Bob and John) and I will be continuing a Christmas tradition in which we pool the money we would ordinarily spend on gifts for each other to buy diapers for our local rescue mission instead.

The tradition has taken on a life of its own. Sometimes, as people we know hear about it, they offer to chip in to help.

One year the rescue mission was low on turkeys, so we bought turkeys instead of diapers. Since so many people we know tossed in a few dollars, we ended up buying every turkey Hy-Vee had in stock. The freezer at the mission was looking pretty thin when we pulled up. Fifteen turkeys certainly didn’t fill it up, but it was a good start.

The last few years, we have gone the diaper route. Last year we were able to pool our money, and the money others donated, and we ended up with enough to buy 1,735 diapers – requiring two shopping carts, which made us pretty happy.

John and Bob (right) posing with the diapers

One year, one of Bob’s co-workers told him she was going to suggest foregoing gifts to her group of friends so they could do something similar. 

The three of us aren’t anything special. We’re just three single dudes who decided it would be better to meet the needs of a couple of people in the community rather than getting another NFL stocking cap or calendar from each other as a gift.

And now I couldn’t imagine doing Christmas with my friends any other way.

The Value of Road Trips

Road trips are usually more stressful than we remember. We have schedules to keep, people to get along with and differing agendas with the people we are visiting. But the road trips themselves are memorable for a reason.

They force us to converse with one another. They provide ample downtime to pray or process. And they give us a chance to listen to a book, album or sermon we’ve been wanting to hear, but just hadn’t had time.

During my most recent trip from New Mexico to Nebraska, I recorded my thoughts about my own road trips and how they have shaped me. As you listen (it’s about eight minutes long) to this audio post, I hope it will spark your own road trips memories from days gone by and that maybe you’ll even share a story about one of them in the comments. I would like that.

If you cannot get the audio player below to work, you can listen by clicking this link.

If Someone's Love Can Make Us Better ...

The plot for the movie “One Day” intrigued me when I first heard it. Still does.

Emma (Anne Hathaway) and Dexter (Jim Sturgess) meet on July 15 – the day of their college graduation, and then reconnect every July 15 for twenty years to talk about where they are in life before finally realizing they should be together.

A few years ago, I went to see the play, “Same Time, Next Year,” (based on the 1978 movie of the same name) and it had the same premise (which a blog called Movie Smackdown explores). It had a fatal plot twist though in my mind since both George and Doris were married and were renewing their affair on the same day every year.

I watched “One Day” over the weekend. Unfortunately, it was a bit disjointed. But it is still the better of the two productions.

One particular scene in the movie stands out. But it’ll take a minute to set up. Stop reading here if you don’t want me to spoil the ending. Okay, you’ve been warned.

Emma is more likable than Dexter. You feel her wandering pains more. And you get the feeling that she’s just going through the motions without Dexter. She takes a job as a waitress and settles for a man (Ian) she doesn’t love.

Dexter has his own demons – all the usual suspects. And the truth is, he doesn’t show Emma the respect she deserves.

At times, it’s hard to understand what Emma sees in him, other than twenty years worth of history. With history comes familiarity though, so I can see why she pines for Dexter. He’s the only one who really knows her.

Finally, they realize they are better together, so they get married. But then, she dies. After Emma’s death, Dexter is lost. He provokes a fight in which he gets beaten severely. And he ends up at his father’s (Steven) place, where they have this conversation.

“So, is this going to be an annual festival, do you think?” Steven says. “Every year, fifteenth of July?

“Well, I hope not.”

“I don’t want a heart-to-heart. Do you?”

“No. No. I’d rather not,” Dexter says.

“Except to say that I think the best thing that you could do would be to try to live your life as if Emma were still here. Don’t you?”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“Of course you can,” Steven says. “What do you think I’ve been doing for the past ten years?” [His wife died of cancer.]

Dexter glances over at his dad who has his face buried in a bowl of soup. He nods a couple of times knowing his dad has found a way to go on.

Later, Ian visits Dexter and he is gracious. He tells Dexter that Emma made Dexter decent while Dexter made her happy. There’s a certain sadness in this admission from Ian. He knew Emma’s heart was never his, but he has moved on and found someone else.

Steven’s wisdom, combined with Ian’s observation, provide clarity.

If someone’s love can make us better, then it has the power to keep making us better ... even beyond the grave. Maybe that’s why reminders of people after they are gone help us heal, transforming our tears to smiles of recognition.

100 Miles of Music: Mile 2.23

A picture of the actual mall --
not a soul in sight.

A group of 10 women approached me in a desolate mall yesterday where I went to take a walk, which is probably not the worst thing that can happen to a single guy. At least I know I’m not invisible. 

I pulled out one of my earbuds.

“Is there another mall nearby?” said the ringleader.

“You mean one with people?”

She laughed. “Yeah, there’s nobody here.”

“They are tearing this one down soon. But if you go west on Dodge Street about three miles you’ll find a mall with lots of people.”

I picked this desolate mall on purpose. It has great AC, and since nobody is there, I do not need to dodge shoppers as I make laps. I chose the busier mall the day before and on several occasions had to take evasive action as several teenagers cut across the flow of traffic without even looking up from his or her cell phone or iPod.

After conversing with the ring leader, I turned my attention back to my iPod “walking” playlist, hit the shuffle button, and continued my four lap journey. The songs ended up being mostly about living without someone, which is probably not the most motivating music to listen to when you are mostly alone. But that’s the luck of the shuffle.

Breathe by Faith Hill. A sappy love song about being caught up in the moment. But I like sappy.

What Becomes of the Broken Hearted by Didi Benami. An old Jimmy Ruffin tune that has been remade more times that I can count. This line struck me as I was walking the empty corridors of the mall, “I walk in shadows, searching for light. Cold and alone, no comfort in sight.” Okay, maybe I’ll take this one off the playlist.

Tough Times Don’t Last by Bad English. So, we’ve gone from sappy to lonely to some sort of encouragement. That’s a good thing.

After Midnight by Matt Mason. A country tune that puts the words of mothers everywhere to flight when they warned that nothing good happens after midnight. Good thing it was only 6:00 pm when I took my walk.

Are You Gonna Kiss Me or Not by Thompson Square. More sappiness, which is probably why it is on my iPod.

With or Without You by U2. I usually only listen to this song if I want to brood a little. I wonder if everybody has one particular person who comes to mind when they listen to this song?

How Great Though Art by Elvis Presley. Marvelous song. Gives me goose bumps. And there’s nobody who can sing it like Elvis.

It’s My Life by Bon Jovi. “This ain’t a song for the broken hearted,” sings Bon Jovi. “No silent prayer for the faith-departed.” Finally, a little balance. 

Almost Lover by A Fine Frenzy. And we’re back to the broken hearted theme: “Goodbye, my almost lover. Goodbye, my hopeless dream. I’m trying not to think about you. Can’t you just let me be?”

Definitely time to tweak the playlist before my next venture.

Distance walked: 1.20 miles
Total distance since August 7: 2.23 miles
Goal = 100 miles by December 31

Six Rules from People Like Us

Most doors in this world are closed
so if you find one you want to get into
you better have an interesting knock
Photo: Evan Bench

People Like Us flopped at the box office. I often like flops though.

I still think Howard the Duck was a great movie. Just because a movie flops doesn’t mean it isn’t good. It simply means not enough people cared about the storyline to go see it. Or maybe the movie wasn’t marketed well enough for its potential core audience to even know it exists. Or maybe movie critics tore it up before moviegoers had a chance to make up their minds.

I don’t know why People Like Us flopped, but it kept my attention throughout for a number of reasons. It’s about a salesman named Sam who discovers he has a sister, Frankie, and a nephew, Josh, while he is settling his father’s estate and that causes him to rethink the way he is living.

As somebody who is single and will probably never have children, but does have two nieces and a nephew, the uncle-nephew storyline resonated with me. Josh is picked on in school and is forced to fend for himself much of the time as his mother attempts to put food on the table. As Sam gets close to Josh, he can’t help but want to be a part of Josh’s life. Josh feels the same way.

Sam’s relationship with his own father was contentious, but throughout the movie he hints to Josh that his dad had six rules he lived by and that one day he might share them with Josh. It’s funny how closely a son is tied to his father, even if he doesn’t want to be. When Sam believes Josh is ready for the six rules, he lays them on him.



The Six Rules

1. If you like something because you think other people are going to like it, it’s a sure bet no one will.

Great advice.

2. Most doors in the world are closed, so if you find one that you want to get into, you damn well better have an interesting knock.

True. Every writer needs to heed this advice.

3. Everything that you think is important, isn’t. Everything that you think is unimportant, is.

Deep, but often true. We chase all sorts of lusts expecting fulfillment when we finally indulge them, when in reality, only sacrificial living will satisfy.

4. Don’t s*** where you eat.

Crude, but good advice. It’s an old saying that means you shouldn’t do something that will jeopardize something or someone you care about. If you want to keep your best friend, don’t steal from her. If you want to keep your workplace free of drama, don’t date your co-worker.

5. Lean into it. The outcome doesn’t matter. What matters is that you were there for it, whatever it is – good or bad.

I love this one for a couple of reasons. We rarely control the outcome of anything we do. But leaning into it means we were fully present and we gave it our best shot, and that leads to no regrets.

6. Don’t sleep with people who have more problems than you do. [This one was cut out of the movie clip above by whoever posted it originally.]

This one is moronic for more reasons that I want to get into, but five out of six isn't bad.

It’s ironic that Sam’s father is leaving a legacy through these rules, not only to Sam, but also to Josh, even though he was a deeply flawed man. His own family had a hard time respecting him, but the lessons he learned about life live on in his family anyway.

As I listened to these rules – which are basically truths – being passed from one generation to the next, I couldn’t help but think of the rules my own father passed on to me. I’ll share those in my next post, hoping you’ll share some from your own father as well.

Couple Dies Holding Hands

Photo: Through My Eyes

Have you heard about Gordon and Norma Yeager – the couple from Iowa that died last week while holding hands? If not, watch this three minute video (unfortunately, embedding has been disabled). Get ready for tears.

Gordon died an hour before Norma did and their children say they are blessed that it worked out this way because neither one of them would have wanted to go on without the other one. One of their children, Dennis, describes his parent’s final moments with such beauty in the video.

“It was really strange,” he said. “They were holding hands. Dad stopped breathing. I couldn’t figure out what was going on because the heart monitor was still going. And we were like, ‘But he isn’t breathing. How could he still have a heartbeat?’ She [a nurse] checked and everything and said, ‘That’s because they’re still holding hands and it’s going through them. Her heart was beating through him and [the monitor was] picking it up.”

On the KCCI website, they have posted the video along with a poll, asking: “After reading this story … do you believe in true love?” More than 86,000 favorable votes have been cast, equaling 93% of the respondents, saying either, “Yes, I have found it,” or “Yes, I’m still looking.”

Count me among the, “Yes, I’m still looking.”

Men of a Certain Age – Whatever Gets You Through the Night

Photo: Danny Feld

TNT sent me an advance copy of the final six episodes of season two of “Men of a Certain Age” and I’m blogging my way through them. 

As I expected, Manfro finally finds out Joe has been cutting in on his bookie business and he’s not happy. I don’t know if it’ll cost Joe Manfro’s friendship, but it cost him a tooth. Terry takes him to a dentist, where Joe bumps into an old flame named Dory – yet another failure in Joe’s life that he tries to ignore.

After the dentist reinserts Joe’s tooth, Dory tracks Joe down by the elevator.

“I should’ve at least given you an explanation,” Dory says. She looks at the elevator button because she can’t look him in the eye. She’s struggling. You get the feeling she cares more about Joe than he realizes. “It’s just, when you told me about that big bet you made …”

“Hey, you saw what you saw,” Joe says. He’s still clueless. “It was scary.”

“No … I had to break it off, but I just want you to know,” she says, “it wasn’t some little thing … meeting you.”

He finally gets it – by it, I don’t just mean Dory’s feelings for him, though, that’s part of it. But he finally understands what a mess he’s made of his life – often at the expense of others.

Now it’s his turn to look down.

“Ah, I screwed up so many things,” he says.

Dory lets five seconds pass. She seems to be debating whether she should pile on or offer him an olive branch.

She makes a decision, and it’s a beautiful one.

“Hey,” she says, “don’t let bad Joe win, okay? Cuz good Joe’s kinda awesome.”

Men of a Certain Age: The Pickup

Terry's life is a mess
(Photo: Danny Feld)

TNT sent me an advance copy of the final six episodes of season two and I’m blogging my way through them. This is the second in a series of six posts. This episode, The Pickup, airs tonight on TNT at 10:00 pm (Eastern) / 9:00 pm (Central).

“I don’t know what’s happening,” Joe says to his teaching pro after a shot goes astray off his club. “Last week, I was hitting it really solid.”

The golf pro looks at him with his eyebrows arched and left hand covering his chin. It’s a look that says, “Joe, you’ve given this a good shot, but you just don’t have it.” The pro closes his eyes and searches for the right thing to say. Instead, he tells Joe to try his 8-iron, which Joe shanks way left of his target. The pro continues to say nothing with his mouth, but everything with his eyes.

Joe’s dream of making the Senior Golf Tour is slipping away. He has responsibilities that keep him from practicing and he feels like his dream may be over when his teaching pro tells him he might need somebody else to coach him. It’s enough to drive Joe back into an old pattern, which is heartbreaking to see, but also understandable given that most of us look for an escape when life gets difficult. Unfortunately for Joe, some forms of escape are more harmful than others.

Terry is a mess in this episode. Since Erin broke up with him, he can’t find the motivation to get to work on time or do anything else he is supposed to. Like Joe, he too falls back into old patterns. Owen has it all together though and he has one of his finest moments since the show began as he pulls Terry into his office and calls him on his lack of maturity.

“Do you think you’re the only one here with problems – other s**t to worry about?” Owen says. “We all got problems and you just created a damn big one for me. I have the opportunity here to actually do something with this place – to bring it back from the dead – and you just chased my best salesman out the door, along with 25 sales. So you’re not going anywhere. You dug this big a** hole and you’re going to fill it up.

“Go clean yourself up and be back in here, at 7:00 [am] with a tie. And ah … grow up.”

How’s that for drama?

*****

Links of Interest:

• Men of a Certain Age: The Great Escape
• Interview with Men of a Certain Age co-creator Mike Royce

Walking Toward Hope

Photo: barto

The first time I took to the walking trail at Churchich Park many months ago, I sensed all of us were walking or running from something.

The trail is flat and meanders around life on the softball field, tennis courts and playground. The trail’s flatness is less intimidating for the broken. Anybody who can walk can navigate her curves. 

A short, elderly woman wearing a purple jogging suit slumbered toward me one day, her hand grasping her Chihuahua’s leash as he pulled her along. Her eyes met mine, which is walking trail code for “Please acknowledge me.”

I took a chance and stopped. 

“His feeties are covered in mud – looks he’s having the time of his life,” I said, pointing at her dog. He looked up at me with his head tilted as if to, “What’s the problem?”

The woman smiled.

“I think you’re right,” she said. “The dirtier he is, the happier he is.”

We both knew the exchange was about more than her dog. I suspected she was lonely, so she fled her home for the walking trail. I could be wrong of course, but I doubt it. I trust the code.

During another walk at the park a guy dribbled a soccer ball past me multiple times. He stayed off the walking trail, dribbling the ball in the grass next to the trail – probably partially as a courtesy and partially because soccer fields aren’t made of cement. Apparently, he was trying to get in, or stay in soccer playing shape. I got the feeling he was running from stagnancy – not wanting to give up on a dream.

Since I started walking on this particular trail I’ve seen fathers and sons playing catch, fathers pitching to their kids, middle-aged men playing tennis, families navigating the playground, young men playing basketball with no thought of waking up with sore knees or stiff backs, twenty-somethings playing softball and 40-somethings attempting to play softball.

It’s a beautiful mixture of life.

I took to the walking trail a couple of years ago because I have type 2 diabetes and one of my A1C tests didn’t delight my doctor.

“You need to get more active,” he told me. “Even if it is just walking.”

So I hit the trail, putting one foot in front of the other, knowing that all of us at the park are either walking or running from something.

What If ...?

Photo: Marco Bellucci

Did you ever see the episode of Yes, Dear in which Jimmy pursues his dream of working as an umpire after his wife Christine decides it’s time she pushed him in that direction the same way he pushed her to go back to college? Back in high school, she told him it was a stupid idea, but she wants to see him happy, so she encourages him to give it a shot.

Jimmy’s first game as an ump is a disaster. He makes the wrong calls – or no call at all. Players, managers and fans give him the business. And he returns home dejected. He tells Christine he hated the experience because there was too much pressure and no matter which call he made, somebody was mad at him. Christine feels better knowing she didn’t squash his dream.

“Yeah well, I’m glad you feel better,” Jimmy says, “but I lost my what if.”

“Your what?”

“My what if. Whenever I was bored at work or stuck in traffic I’d like to kind of sit and think about what my life would’ve been like if I’d a been an umpire. Now I know I never could’ve done it.”

He finds a new what if when Christine suggests he could be a pro golfer on the senior tour if he practiced every day until he was 50, but since she would never allow it, he’d never have to deal with the possibility of failing.

It’s a twisted way of viewing life, but probably not all that far from the truth. We all need what ifs.

The second I heard Jimmy use the “what if” phrase, I thought about the various “what ifs?” in my own life. In high school and college I used to wonder, “What if I practiced tennis every day, and got in great shape, and developed a better backhand?”

After college I wondered, “What if I practiced guitar every day and transitioned from power chords to learning the nuances of playing individual notes in a key that captures the mood of a song I’d written?”

In more recent years I’ve wondered, “What if I studied fiction writing techniques and was able to use what I learned to write a novel that spoke to people?”

For most of my life I’ve wondered, “What if I finally found someone to love – someone I could pour my life into?”

My first what if was answered when I couldn’t advance deep into tennis tournaments I entered. My second what if was answered after I became a Christian and put my guitar down – which, in hindsight, wasn’t my best decision. My third what if still lingers. I still dream about writing a novel that moves people. And my fourth what if – the one about finding love – it does more than linger. It gives me hope for the future – at least in an earthly sense.

What are your past and present what ifs? How and why have they changed over the years?

Liberty Creek Merlot

Latte continues to change poses with the bottles of
wine I photograph, as if she were a kitty supermodel

I gave Liberty Creek merlot a shot recently. I’m learning I can drink merlot from almost any vineyard. Liberty Creek was no exception.

I tasted more cherry in this particular wine than in other merlots I’ve tried. Since I love cherry, this made for a tasty bottle of wine. It is smooth, not overpowering and it is easy to drink. For $6.98, that’s hard to beat.

The only real complaint I have is – and this really isn’t a complaint as much as it is an observation – the bottle is larger than most other bottles of wine and it went bad before I could finish it over the course of three nights. I’m not advocating a smaller bottle though.

Having someone to share it with would nice. Or maybe I just need to research ways to keep wine fresh for longer periods of time.

I’m headed to St. Louis this morning to visit family. If I can get out of here early enough, I’m going to stop at a winery called Stone Hill that isn’t far from where my sister lives and see if I can find a new wine to try. I also finally found a bottle of Liberty Creek sweet red wine that I’ll write about soon.

5 Favorite Comic Strip Characters

This Luann comic strip comes from May 23, 2003. I love the give and take between Luann and
her brother Brad here. She is trying to give Brad advice about a woman named Toni. I clipped
this out and put it on my refrigerator, where it has yellowed with age.

It's not easy coming up with a list of favorite comic strip characters. I find it easier to make a list of favorite comic strips in general, but having to come up with characters made me think a little and that's never a bad thing.

Here are my 5:

1. Charlie Brown. Snoopy seems to be the star of the Peanuts strip, and I like him, but not as much as Charlie Brown. Charlie should have a complex given the number of times Lucy has pulled the football away from him every time he tries to kick it and the way he gets his clothes knocked off every time he takes the pitcher’s mound. His friends even chide him for picking the sickly looking Christmas tree. But he stays true to what he believes and he never gives up.

2. Garfield. He takes laziness to a new level – even for cats. Be he’s not always consistent in his laziness or eating habits. He befriends mice rather than eats them, but if a spider gets anywhere near him, he smacks it dead with a newspaper. Garfield acts like a human. He walks on his hind legs, he eats people food (pizza and lasagna seem to be his favorites) and he even gives his owner a hard time about his lack of dating success. He’s a caricature of the way we treat our pets – like humans, and I say that without any judgment.

3. Jeremy from Zits. His big shoes crack me up. So do his friends – one of whom is named Pierce (presumably because he has his eyebrows, ears, nose and lip pierced). Jeremy is a typical teenage boy – he’s in a band, he speaks a different language than his parents, he’s wrapped up in technology and he complains about everything. But he’s likable and he’s funny.

4. Brad from Luann. I like Brad for a number of reasons. First, I love his banter with his sister, Luann (see the strip above). Second, he became a firefighter because of the events of 911 and it changed him from a guy who was a slouch to a hardworking professional. Third, I enjoyed the way he fumbled for words after he met Toni, a female firefighter, and attempted to make her his girlfriend. I think every guy can relate to that.

5. Cathy. I haven’t seen this strip in a while. I’m not even sure if my local paper still carries it, but the way she stresses over every relational aspect of her life makes her relatable.

Who are your 5 favorite comic strip characters?

What’s Wrong with a Little Drakkar Noir?

I can’t tell you how many times my niece said that when she climbed into my car over the years. Drakkar Noir was my thing – so much so that she thought it was “my” smell. And how could she not? It was the only cologne I wore for years.

Back in the 80s, when I first became away of the fragrance, I was often accused of wearing too much of it, but the fact was, one squirt was powerful enough to make people believe I loaded up on the stuff. I had one friend who said he could get the benefit of the wearing the fragrance just by the leftover mist that didn’t wind up on my shirt. All I had to do was point the bottle at friends after pulling up somewhere and they would flee the vehicle.

Drakkar Noir seemed popular with my married female friends. After they smelled it on me, they wanted to buy some for their husbands. I can’t say I ever really got compliments from single women though. That fact, combined with a rather hefty price tag and an ever increasing awareness that a lot of people are allergic to cologne, eventually led me to stop wearing cologne altogether.

Not long ago, I heard a snarky remark by a 20-something-year-old character on a TV show about Drakkar Noir and I realized it must be the new Old Spice. I always pictured the generation of men before me wearing Old Spice and now the generation after me made the connection between middle age and Drakkar Noir.

With all that in mind, I came across an internet bulletin board yesterday discussing this question: Is DRAKKAR NOIR still popular with the UNDER 30 crowd?

Here was one man’s answer:

“My black concert t-shirts were saturated with it at fifteen (many years ago), but after smelling it on a few people in the last few years there’s no way I’d subject people to it. But like most fougeres, it’s an energizing smell. I spray it up in the air every once in awhile and walk through it. I have no idea if it’s popular with people under thirty, but it’s a good bet that if it is there are more of them in the South where NASCAR (among other things) is most popular. One thing’s for sure, the stuff isn’t chic. :) But it’s definitely satisfying if you’re into it.”

First off, I have no idea what fougeres is. Second off, I have no idea what geography has to do with the discussion, but for the record, I live in the Midwest. Third off, well, he’s probably right about it not being chic any more. Fourth off, how the guy can try to equate a certain fragrance with NASCAR is beyond me…wait a minute, I just remembered that my mom bought me Halston Z-14, Jeff Gordon cologne for Christmas a few years ago. Fifth off, hmm, maybe his comments are fairly accurate.

I guess it’s time to stop defending Drakkar Noir because its time has come and gone. But one of these days, I might just give it another shot. I’d love to see the look on my niece’s face if she got a fresh whiff of the stuff.

#76 Dance, Dance, Dance

Photo: Aline Gomes

Continuing with the 100 life-enriching little nuances series …

I’m glad smart phones weren’t around in the 1980s. Surely somebody would have snapped a photo – or worse, shot a video – of me moving my feet while swaying back and forth to the music of a live group on a lighted, checkerboard style dance floor in a night club called Fat Jak’s. During one stretch in the late 80s, one band played at Fat Jak’s 15 straight nights and me, my long hair, and my fake black leather coat found our way to the dance floor 14 of those nights.

After I wrote that paragraph, I was paranoid enough to check Facebook and YouTube, and guess what? Somebody started a Fat Jak’s page on Facebook even though the place hasn’t been in existence for 20 years and there’s actually a video of the band I danced to playing at Fat Jak’s during that time period on YouTube. I watched in horror, wondering if I would see myself on the dance floor. Thankfully, I didn’t. And no, I'm not going to link to it here.

I went to my high school dances and to my girlfriend’s high school dances in the early 80s and that’s probably when I realized how much I enjoyed dancing, even though I was never really good at it. It had more to do with somebody else wanting to join me on the dance floor than anything. As somebody who was always shy and overweight, it felt good knowing I wasn’t a leper. Once I got on the dance floor with someone, I just tried to blend it. There would be no twirls, splits or crazy hand motions for me.

Since my Fat Jak’s days, I haven’t spent a lot of time on a dance floor, with the exception of a wedding or two, but that doesn’t mean I won’t hop on the dance floor again one of these days because dancing is one of life’s simple pleasures and I miss it. Besides, Solomon said for everything there is a season – a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance. Who am I to argue?

Kids Are Our Present

I tend to be nostalgic. I find balance in that line from an old Billy Joel song: “The good old days weren’t always good and tomorrow ain’t as bad as it seems.” Of course, the irony of that statement is, those lyrics were penned in the early 80s, so even my balance is rooted in nostalgia.

I often wonder if my penchant for nostalgia is the result of never marrying and having kids. Kids are our future – or so the saying goes. Maybe being focused on the future would have helped me to cut back on thinking big hair, big combs, and tube socks were all the rage. I know, even my clichés are nostalgic.

But I read a passage in a novel called Juliet, Naked yesterday that made me re-consider (Juliet, by the way, is the name of an album – Juliet, Naked is the name of the acoustic re-release of the album). The novel is about two people, Duncan and Annie, who have been in a 15-year relationship that is centered around their interest in an old, forgotten singer who hasn’t put out anything new in 20 years.

When Annie realizes she is wasting her time with Duncan, she breaks up with him and she goes out to a pub with a female friend to find out what other people do. She sees people who are stuck in old patterns who are trying to re-capture old magic, which causes her to wonder, “Where was the now?” How do people who swim around in the past stand it?

She concludes that children are the answer. Here’s her thought process:

That was why she wanted children, too. The cliché had it that kids were the future, but that wasn’t it: they were the unreflective, active present. They were not themselves nostalgic, because they couldn’t be, and they retarded nostalgia in their parents. Even as they were getting sick and being bullied and becoming addicted to heroin and getting pregnant, they were in the moment, and she wanted to be in it with them. She wanted to worry herself sick about schools and bullying and drugs.

That passage really hit me. Do we yearn for yesteryear because it was the only time in our lives when we live in the active present? If so, it makes me wonder if that is one of the reasons the cycle of life works the way it does. We are designed to get married and have children earlier in life, as opposed to later, and by doing so, we are forced into the active present. Maybe people who don’t have children drift easier from the present to the past. 

I do know this – being an uncle helps. I have two nieces and one nephew and I love all three of them dearly. I sing with them. Act goofy with them. And maybe tease them once in a while. And I don’t know who loves it more – me or them. But whenever I spend time with them, we are in the present. And I feel more alive.

Most Popular Songs

Technology has a way of telling on you. I found that out yesterday when I synced my iPod and noticed I had listened to one song far more often than any other song. That made me curious enough to see what my two other most listened to songs were – here’s the list:

1. “Give Me Your Eyes” by Brandon Heath (14 plays)

Give me your arms for the broken hearted
The ones that are far beyond my reach
Give me your heart for the ones forgotten
Give me your eyes so I can see

In 1990, I lived/worked in Chicago for a few months. The company I worked for in Omaha at the time was purchased by a company in Chicago and the new company paid me a fair wage to come and teach people how to do my job.

As I walked around the city, I felt like a gnat who was lost in a swarm of gnats the size of, well, Chicago. So many people, so many stories. It was all so overwhelming. I was young and shy and had long hair with bleached tips and never really did find a way to connect. At least I had a few co-workers to hang out with at night.

I think of my Chicago years when I hear this song. I sing the lyrics as a prayer, not wanting anybody to feel as disconnected as I did.

2. “Ohio” by Over the Rhine (10 plays)

Hello Ohio 
The back roads
I know Ohio
Like the back of my hand
Alone Ohio
Where the river bends
And it’s strange to see your story end

I wrote about this song in the past. Here’s part of what I had to say about it:

This first verse is chilling to me. Karin Bergquist is singing about watching life as she knows it come to an end on the back roads of Ohio. For the record, her husband Linford Detweiler wrote the song, but the sentiment is the same. And you get the feeling she’s going to camp out and reminisce for a while because that’s what humans do when we want to make sense of change.

A picture flashes into my mind when I listen to this song – a picture I took on the back roads of Arkansas, which is where my father’s side of the family is from. As a kid, I traveled with my grandparents and sister to Arkansas most summers and we would meander down one dirt road after another visiting relatives. When I got older, I drove my grandmother down those same dirt roads.

On one of those trips, in 1993, we stopped at an old cemetery to visit the graves of family members. Before I got back into the car to leave, I snapped this photo of the dirt road that went past the cemetery.

I think I took the photo because I wanted a clear reminder about how much life, and ultimately death, existed on the back roads of my heritage. I needed the tangible proof because my mind doesn’t do an adequate job of remembering.

3. “In Color” by Jamey Johnson (8 plays)

I said, grandpa what’s this picture here
It’s all black and white, it ain’t real clear
Is that you there? He said yeah, I was 11

Times were tough back in ‘35
That’s me and uncle Joe just tryin’ to survive
A cotton farm in a great depression

If it looks like we were scared to death
Like a couple of kids just tryin’ to save each other
You should’ve seen it in color

Family heritage means more to me with each passing day. That’s why I’ve written 90 posts for this blog about the subject (click here or see the “heritage” tag on right side of the blog, under the title “Food, Family & Fun Posts”). I want the generation behind me to know the sacrifices the previous generations made.

When I hear this song, I think about my mom who was a little girl during the Depression. Clothing was hard to come by and food was even more scarce. She lacked the basics – including milk. And I think about my grandpa’s paycheck stubs from 1950. My grandparents, wanting to flee farm life, moved from Arkansas to Nebraska that year after my grandpa found work in a factory. He made 40 cents an hour.

My nieces and nephew need to know these stories. And I need to hear them again too.

How about you? What are your most listened to songs on your iPod and what are some of the stories behind the songs?