Who to Blame?

Just looking at things, it seems pretty safe to say that we're f***ed.

I understand that the American way of life needs to readjust itself, and readjustment is painful. It's like a piece of chewing gum that you blow into a bubble. Quality of life, like the bubble, gets bigger, and bigger until it pops. Then what do you do?

You chew the gum to get the proper consistency to blow another bubble.

Hopefully, whoever is chewing this piece of bubble gum doesn't get tired of the taste and spits it out!

So we bail out Wall Street, but no bailout for the auto industry. Unfortunately for me, I have opinions about this, and unfortunately for my wife, she's gotta hear me spout off on them.

First of all, I am not a fan of the auto companies. I was employed by GM for nearly 4 years, and saw first-hand the elitist snob attitudes that are created and nurtured there. I felt since day one that the company needed to be brought down a peg or two, and took some perverted enjoyment out of seeing Rick Wagoner groveling at the hands of the senate.

Today we wonder where our kids got the attitude of entitlement, and looking back on my time at GM, I saw where it started. The UAW, too, needs to take responsibility, but again, somewhere, we have lost the concept of taking responsibility.

So this morning, we have a lot of self-indulging victims whining that there is no Washington bailout for some of the largest companies in America. I totally see why congress would do this, and why America is so split on this. The auto companies and the UAW made their beds, and they need to sleep in them.

Rick Wagoner spent too much time bilking Americans with his higher margin of earnings trucks and SUVs and not enough time envisioning, developing, and planning for the future.

Now, I often suck at planning for the future. Is that a fault? Yeah, sometimes, but then again, Rick Wagoner is the CEO of the formerly largest company in the world. Is it a fault for him to not plan for the future? HELL YES IT IS.

I can only talk about GM, because I have seen it in action. I have also seen the UAW in action. Everybody here in Michigan knows someone who abused their safety in the union. The union used to be a great thing, but those people - the abusers of the system - have made it a farce.

But again, the UAW found a way to work within the system. The Big 3 had systems that made it easy to abuse.

It seems that the world now needs to readjust. There is a lot of change that needs to happen, and change can be plain ugly.

I can see why congress would vote down the bailout of the auto companies. The thing is, I don't know if they properly thought out the outcome of their decision. It seems that this issue dealt more with emotions instead of cold, hard facts.

Failure of one or more auto companies will put a lot more people out of work. Our social services, such as unemployment insurance is already being pushed to its max. I think there was a middle ground that could have been met, but there were too many people with too much power flexing their muscles and butting heads.

Failure of one or more auto companies will be devastating to our country. Michigan has been in this recession longer than many of our states. In theory, then, it will help us start the move out of recession earlier.

We need to encourage people to think outside the box. Give our dreamers a chance to make it big. We are going to have to rely on visionaries and revisionaries.

It is possible that America will come out of this no longer as the number one country in the world, and we are going to have to prepare for that.

So who is to blame for this? I can't tell you how much I'd love to blame President Bush. However, I think it just might be the natural ebb and flow of economics.

I do think, however, that someone could have helped make this crash a little softer. But I can't blame anyone, unfortunately, because I hadn't given it enough future thought...

Eras

When I was diagnosed with cancer in 2002, I never wondered "Why me?" until my treatments were over. My doctor suggested that I give back to the community, planting the seed of "the obligation of the cured". As such, I started volunteering at Gilda's Club.

Gilda's Club saved my life in many, many ways. It gave me a positive environment to figure out what I wanted to do with my life. It gave me an opportunity to explore projects on a large scale focusing on helping others. It introduced me to many angels in disguise - including my wife.

When I was out of work for nearly two years, Gilda's Club inspired hope in me, even when things were bleak.

For six years (today), I have given thanks for surviving Hodgkin's disease by being of service to my cancer brethren at Gilda's.

Today I submitted my resignation as a member of Gilda's Member Advisory Committee, which was my last official link to Gilda's Club. Sure, I have personal relationships with members, but no official affiliation anymore, and I find it very sad...

...but necessary.

I needed to be a volunteer and member at Gilda's. There were things I needed to do and learn. And people to meet - and in one case, marry.

But by making this decision to resign from the committee, I am - in a sense - taking back my life.

I will always be a cancer survivor. I will always have a passion for cancer issues - particularly survivor healthcare issues.

But I had to step out from under that umbrella. I owe it to myself, my wife and family.

Although I am very sad to be stepping away from Gilda's Club, I am happy to focus on my future - in many cases, using the tools that I learned to use while in service to Gilda's Club.

The Sink

In this life, there are times when things are so incredibly in sync, that you feel like the world turns just for you.

Sometimes, the exact opposite happens.

Sheryl and I joined the YMCA last month, and we've been very good, going to workout regularly. Late last week, I felt everything start to go South. I had over-trained, and refused to stop. I paid the price... I've felt like a crash test dummy for two days.

Of course, this doesn't help the beautiful symphony of marriage. The entire horn section has been out of tune, and I'm the blowhard.

Getting past this is simple - as long as you realize that it is only temporary.

So tonight we went to see Jill Jack and Billy Brandt at a "Comfy Couch Concert". Held at a furniture company, the audience was invited to sit on couches, chairs and beds, and make themselves comfy. It was a great concept, it was great seeing Jill, and it was great seeing my wife enjoy herself.

During the second half of the show, I found my mind wander. Part of the show's appeal was that Jill and Billy talked about the origins of some of their songs. I began to feel that the performers and audience were closing in on the same vibe - a warehouse-wide syncing of the universe. It was a beautiful feeling.

It helped me realize that although we may occasionally fall out of sync with our lives, we can - if we pay attention - be reminded that there is a universal vibe that we can all tune into.

I hope tomorrow brings me back in sync with my life and wife, but until then, I know it will come sooner or later, and when it does, I need to take complete advantage of it.

At what point does one cease re-charging batteries and start becoming selfish?

In order to affect the world around us, we need to have the energy to give. When you burn out - or have no remaining energy stores, it's obvious that you need to re-fuel.

But where is the "full" line?

I constantly struggle with this question.

Have I moved on to other things, or am I just being selfish?

And if I'm just being selfish, how long can I get away with it before becoming a mockery of all the good I have accomplished?

Ugh... so few answers to so many questions.

There's one fool-proof cure - a good, old-fashioned nap!

Wake me in an hour.

"I'd Love to Change the World...

... but I don't know what to do."

Or so sang Alvin Lee.

Yesterday marked the six year anniversary of my last cancer treatment - and I never realized it until I received an e-mail from my cousin in Florida. Strange.

At that moment, I felt a karmic swing. I had had a rough day at work, and wasn't very happy. But suddenly, at 10pm, I found myself looking back on the day's events, realizing how everything fell into place.

It was a great feeling, and as I went to bed and said my prayers, I could only hope that today would bring the same vision of karma at work.

It didn't start off that way... I woke up at 3:30am, and couldn't get back to sleep. So I got up and got ready for work.

Because it was so early, I had a little time to kill. So I turned on my favorite Canadian TV show, and caught a segment featuring Dr. Julio Montaner - President of the International AIDS Society.

The Q&A was naturally thought-provoking, and much of what Dr. Montaner said hit me hard.

He said that if the leaders of the G8 countries focused on HIV/AIDS, then 90% of the WORLD'S infection could be controlled. He said that the drugs we have available (or capable of) today can eliminate much of the scourge now, and in the future.

He said that most people are looking for the magic cure, but he doesn't believe we need one, since through vaccines and therapies and knowledge, we can control HIV/AIDS.

HOW FUCKING POWERFUL IS THAT?!?!

And so I started thinking back to 1999, 2000, and 2001... and my bike rides, and raising $9,000 for AIDS vaccine research, and actually allowed myself to wonder...

Could one man change the world?

Like they say, the fluttering of a butterfly's wings could cause a hurricane.

With many single people affecting change in their own way, the world CAN change. Unfortunately, most of the decision-makers have too many decisions to make.

Why not take some of those decisions out of their hands, and uncork that bottleneck?

Sheryl and I contribute much time, money and effort to the cancer cause these days. Sometimes, it's easy to feel overwhelmed and even get selfish because we recognize that we will never get that time back to ourselves.

But sometimes, it's amazing to see practice work. To see effort prevail. To see hope conquer fear.

I'd love to change the world, and I sure as hell don't know what to do...

But I'm going to do something.

No, check that...

I'm COMPELLED to do something...

Strangely Coherent

Did you ever have one of those days when you felt like you had a lot to say, but every time you opened your mouth, nothing came out?

Yeah, me neither.

However, I do feel like I've got something to say, but yet, a cohesive thought eludes me.

So I suppose I'll sit here and ponder... think about everything and nothing in general.

Hopefully, as a result, I will find a way to cure the ills of society.

I'll keep you posted.

Cycling 2008-2009

In this years' Tour de France, we saw more people caught doping. I commented about it at the time, so I won't bother rehashing that.

Or will I?

Recently, the drug testing peeps have done more testing on the samples taken during the Tour de France in July. Guess what they found?

Two more dopers.

Now, I wouldn't bother giving these bastards any of my time, but here's the thing:

Stefan Schumacher won two time trial stages.

Bernard Kohl won third place overall and the king of the mountains jersey.

These cheaters were roommates at the Tour. They were racing for a German team (Gerolsteiner) that was looking for a new sponsor.

In cycling, the best way to garner interest from potential sponsors is to have good results. For example, the American team Slipstream-Chipotle won a number of races throughout the year, and named a new major sponsor (Garmin) just prior to the Tour de France. They are now known as Garmin-Chipotle.

So the question comes up - why did these guys cheat?

1) To demand a higher contract from a potential new team?

2) To garner support for a new sponsor?

3) To taste victory?

I dunno. There's a stank in cycling and I feel that somehow the way the sport is set up with sponsors, etc., spells failure by nature.

It's like the economy. There is something innately wrong, and who knows how to fix it?

Well, believe it or not, cycling does have hope.

More and more teams are instituting drug testing programs. Hopefully they are testing in order to find out who is cheating as opposed to testing to see what drugs won't be found!

Anyhow, Lance Armstrong is coming back to the peloton as well. In order to bring awareness to the fight against cancer, Lance has stated that he will race in the Tour de France. And folks, he's in it to win it.

Lance will be joining the Astana team, whose current leader, Alberto Contador, has won the Tour de France, Giro d'Italia and the Vuelta a Espana - cycling's golden trio.

Naturally, Contador is like, "Hey, screw that, I want to race to win the Tour de France, and will do whatever I can to make sure that happens (including going to another team)!"

Uncharacteristically, Lance apparently gave this some thought, and decided to race the Giro d'Italia, and possibly pass up the Tour.

Silly you say?

No. It makes sense. In 2009, the Giro will be celebrating 100 years. There will be a ton of press, and Lance will be able to get his word out about fighting cancer. Do you think that would happen at the Tour? No way - Lance would be too busy fending off doping questions, and it would take away from his real mission.

Plus, it will allow the Astana team an opportunity to win both races...

It will be interesting to see what next year brings to the cycling world. Hopefully we can get people racing clean. It's such a drag rooting for some underdog only to find out that this rags to riches story succumbed to the pressure to cheat.

Vent

I know it's been a while since I posted. I've again been waiting for a spark - the ethereal hand of creative knowledge.

Well, it's still not here.

However, this morning, I am harboring a lot of anger and despair. I've probably been watching too much media, but I am really frustrated with what is going on in the world right now.

How in the hell did we get to where we are?

I am currently reading a book called "World War Z" - a collection of first-hand accounts regarding the zombie war. It's a fascinating book in the way it incorporates current world events with the outbreak of the zombie virus.

And even though the book sort of pokes fun at the media, I am riled by it. I mean, in the book, they talk about a decisive battle where the journalists are implanted in the troops, and the armed forces put on a display, much like the "shock and awe" done in Iraq. But in the book, the zombies aren't defeated. So instead of the media being given a dog and pony show on the strength and power of our armed forces, whatever is left of the media shows the horror and despair of a full-blown zombie invasion.

And once again, I have to get on my high horse about our media. We love to tear down celebrities and laugh at their occasional idiocy. Has this become today's "Kill Your Idols" from the punk revolution?

And as a result, we have become accustomed to - and thirsty for - bad, ugly news reporting.

I mean, really, how does all of this relate to me?

I remember as a kid the first time I watched the 11:00 news. I was by myself, it was dark outside, AND THE NEWS SCARED THE HELL OUT OF ME!

And guess what?

THE NEWS STILL SCARES THE HELL OUT OF ME!!

Am I the only person who thinks this? Why don't we demand better news reporting? Why don't we demand a 50% ratio of good news vs. bad news?

Why does anything that promotes goodness have to be religion-based?

Why can't we just believe in the goodness of people? Why can't we keep our hands to ourselves? Why must we feed off the foibles of others?

Isn't that just pathetic that we can't seem to establish our own lives - our own excitement?

Then again, do we actually do anything besides sit in our own bomb shelters playing Nintendo, PS3 or watching the idiot box?

Is it truly more enjoyable to be a pseudo-rock star or guitar hero than being a real-life hero to someone in our community?

Shit... I wish I knew what it took to carry the torch of decency. The torch of self-worth. The torch of responsibility. The torch of earning a living rather than expecting someone to give it to us.

We're so frigging pathetic I can hardly stand it.

And still, I can't help but think that there are enough people out there who believe in themselves - ourselves. I can't help but have deep-seeded hope and faith in humanity. Something's gotta change in this world - and unfortunately, most change comes from dire circumstances.

Aren't things dire enough?

Who's going to stand up and hold the torch?

Got Change?

For me, fall exemplifies change. In the past, I would go overboard with change, and spin my world so fast that I couldn't see straight for weeks.

This year seems a little different, though. It seems like the world itself is changing and spinning, and I am standing still. I don't know how much I like that.

The Detroit Lions made a change shortly after my last post. They fired Matt Millen, which was a welcome change.

My hip/back seems to hurt less and less, and that is a welcome change.

Sheryl has changed her work schedule, and that will be good, too.

I am not playing darts this season, and that is a huge change for me. I've been playing since September of 2001. This is the first time I'm not.

According to the media and President Bush, the sky is falling. Although this isn't a big change - especially for Bush's regime, change will be required to get the US back on track. Whoever moves into the White House is going to have to fumigate that bad boy - I have visions of that place being so messed up, their going to have to do serious renovations to it!

Big change, strange change, change for a dollar... we've all got change on our horizon. Sometimes, a matter of perspective changes the way THAT looks, too.

People don't like change, in general. It takes us out of our comfort zone. The only thing, they say, that stays the same is change.

The sooner we embrace it, the more welcoming it becomes.

I've been working on it for 42 years, and I still find it difficult.

Lion To Myself (Like Being Stood Up At the Prom)

Dang, I'm bitter.

I am like an elderly person who unknowingly got ripped off by a fake policeman selling tickets to a fake ball.

I am like the poor sap stood up at the senior prom.

I am like the angry ex who posts naked pictures of his former girlfriend on the internet (it really happens, you know!).

Yep, I'm bitter.

I was one of a few poor saps who bought into the 2008 Detroit Lions hype. I happily enjoyed their dismantling of opponents in the pre-season, and believed in NOW, just as they asked me to.

I considered purchasing season tickets, but thankfully couldn't allow myself to pull the trigger. It just seemed like a bit too much money.

Now I realize that an angel was watching over me.

After three incredibly pathetic games, I've given up.

Alright, that's not exactly true. I gave up after TWO incredibly pathetic games.

There is a cancer in the Lions organization, and I am starting to believe that it comes from the top. It's a serious shame, because the city of Detroit needs something to build on.

Fortunately, we are less than a month away from the Red Wings opening their season.

If it sounds like I'm a wagon jumper, I don't care - As long as they continue embarrassing the city, I will not sink any of my hard-earned money into the Lions organization. I will not sink any of my heard-earned trust into the Lions organization. I will, however, continue to hope that they can turn things around, but I am not counting on it.

I love watching the game of football. I love playing fantasy football. I love rooting for my teams. Now I need to find a new team.

Man, I am bitter.

September 18, 2008
Nine years, Duane, and I still miss you like hell!

The Great Gig in the Sky

For the last few days, I've been trying to come up with a topic to blog about. There is nothing worse than trying to force yourself into writing something when you don't have a topic. So I decided to wait for the topic to find me.

Unfortunately, it has.

I have blogged about what an inspiration Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. was for me (April 12, 2007). And all of my friends know what else has inspired me: The music of Pink Floyd.

When I was a young 'un, I remember going to my Uncle's house, and listening to his records while the adults visited with each other. One of the most fascinating albums I enjoyed listening to was "Wish You Were Here", by Pink Floyd.

I remember thinking how cool the music was, and stared at the awesome graphics on the album cover and sleeve.

In high school, I got more and more into Pink Floyd. For my 14th birthday, I received a copy of "The Wall", and played it to death. Later, I found how much I enjoyed the entire "Dark Side of the Moon", and "The Final Cut".

It was such a joy to obtain and listen to Pink Floyd music, and I quickly acquired all of their albums.

During my college years, I constantly listened to old Pink Floyd while lying in bed, pondering my life and my future.

I had a chance to see Pink Floyd when they toured in 1986, 1988 and 1994. I had become a serious Pink Floyd freak, even getting a tattoo of "The Division Bell" album cover art.

So I was shocked and saddened when I learned that keyboardist Richard Wright died yesterday. At the age of 65, he apparently died of cancer. Because Rick was so private, his family didn't want to release any additional information.

What I had loved about Pink Floyd was David Gilmour's guitar playing and singing, Roger Waters' lyrics and vocal effects, Nick Mason's synchopation on drums, and the galaxy-opening sounds of Rick Wright's keyboards.

I laughed my ass off the first time I saw the video for "Live at Pompeii". During the song "Saucerful of Secrets", seeing Rick smashing at the piano keys with his whole hand - and elbows! But I came to love that about Rick and Pink Floyd... they always pushed musical limits, much like Frank Zappa did. And Rick's elbow playing actually worked within the context of the song!

"Live at Pompeii" opens and closes with the song "Echoes", and I was floored watching Rick and Dave singing in harmony, taking me away to labyrinths of coral caves, glancing at strangers on the street.

The Pink Floyd song that is most likely to move me to tears (and has on more than one occasion) is the Wright-penned "Great Gig in the Sky" from "Dark Side of the Moon". Rick's keyboards combine with Clare Torry's voice to make the soundtrack to the process of dying. My soul aches with pleasure every time I hear it.

Pink Floyd helped me realize that I wanted to leave a legacy when I died. I have writings that can be published posthumously, and I have tried to become a virus, infecting peoples' lives along the way. Richard Wright's legacy lies with his family, but it also lies on vinyl, on CD and in MP3s.

I will miss Richard Wright, and I will never be able to thank him for all of the inspiration he has given me.

Rest in Peace, Rick.

I was logged on to LinkedIn this morning, and thought about joining a cancer survivorship group. So I did a search, using the word "cancer", and was presented with 17 pages of results.

As I was looking at the cancer groups, I realized how many people out there are making an effort to eradicate cancer.

As a survivor, I feel a burden to help rid the world of this curse. It is a personal crusade to be involved in the cancer world and to help people in some way. It is MY world. It is MY view.

But I realized that a whole lot of people feel that way, too.

It's strange to find during your personal war with dragons and other-worldly scourges, that there are other armies fighting the same battles. It's very encouraging.

Yet, at the same time, I find myself feeling that none of them have had my experiences - with cancer or life. And rather than celebrate those differences, I find myself feeling that I should keep fighting my fight alone.

It makes no sense at all, but maybe there is a bigger reason why I feel this way.

I'll have to think about that.

Dirty Diamonds

Before I rave about seeing Alice Cooper at the Michigan State Fair, I want to say that I think Neil Diamond is cooler than hell.

In Detroit, we talk about the Red Wings being a classy organization. Of course, there's not much else classy in Detroit...

Hello Kwame Kilpatrick.

Hello Monica Conyers.

Sorry, I digress.

Neil Diamond had laryngitis, and decided to perform a show in Ohio anyway. Who would care? Rock groups have put on crappy shows for years... Ever see Aerosmith when the toxic twins were in their glory? How about Guns n Roses?

So Neil puts on a crappy show, and apparently, he felt bad about it, and offered his fans their money back!! How's THAT for class?! I gotta tell you, I have a lot of respect for the guy - especially after doing something like that!

Now many of us think that if someone performs at a State Fair, they are desperate for cash and/or washed up. I felt the same way year after year, when I heard Alice Cooper was coming to perform.

Probably because of this assumption, I never went to see Alice until last year. While at that show, I realized that I couldn't have been more wrong, and immediately recruited friends to join me this year and see what they've been missing.

So last night, we paid for our $60 tickets - NOT! We paid $10 (plus $7 for parking) for "main floor" type seats, and proceeded to get our heads ripped off!

I will repeat what I said last year - how could it have taken me so long to see Alice Cooper???! The show was amazing! It was everything I had ever heard about his shows growing up, and at 60 years old, he still performs like a madman!

One thing that stuck out to me was the sound. The drums and guitars sounded incredibly full, leaving us nothing for want. And then there was Alice's voice... cripes! He sang phenomenally!

We are finding out that as many rock singers age, they cannot reach many of the notes they used to (see Robert Plant). Yeah, this curse affected Alice, too... but only once (during "Poison") did I notice.

And I gotta say... the opening to Alice's show is one of the coolest openings to a concert that I've seen.

A troubled man for troubled times. Our homegrown boy thrilled and chilled once again. I am ecstatic that I've finally come to my senses and saw Alice Cooper... at the State Fair.

Has America become SO shallow and lazy that we do not expect anyone to take responsibility for anything?

Hello Kwame Kilpatrick.

Why do we let presidential hopefuls get away with telling us what they think the other guy did wrong? TAKE RESPONSIBILITY! Tell me what YOU did RIGHT! What are your goals and dreams?

Hello Barack Obama.

Hello John McCain.

Really, I do enjoy living in America. But how have we come to blame everyone else for our problems? Whatever happened to George Washington chopping down the cherry tree? Whatever happened to the golden rule?

And just as importantly, why do I feel so helpless to change things?

Can I Change My Mind?

Okay, in the words of Howard Kaylan, I know when I'm licked - all over.

I have to revisit some comments I made in an earlier post about American art.

Sheryl and I went to the Detroit Institute of Arts this weekend and I ran through some of the galleries, including the American art galleries. Prior to this visit, I recall American art being paintings of men in wigs - the new world hoity-toity - and indians. And frankly, this is the stuff that bores me.

However, these images were merely a few of the many pieces of American art displayed in the museum. There were many more that splashed color, busting from the canvas and displayed American ideals that I've forgotten about.

I feel like I have an American hangover. With the elections coming up, with the war in Iraq, with McDonald's spreading like a scourge on humanity, I have forgotten the rich history of this country.

I love European history. I feel like it's so strange and magical. Italy, Germany, Greece - they all fascinate me.

Yes, America is 1,000 years younger than Europe, but the fact is, we have some 230+ years of documented history, and knowledge of stuff before that.

If we look at places like Savannah and St. Augustine, we can learn our history. We can see that America is so much more than Best Buy, Kid Rock, Usher and Mariah Carey. If we take some time to breathe in our historical landmarks, we can see why immigrants came here to make life better for their families.

So I sit corrected. American art - paintings, writings and such - isn't all dull. For me, it still doesn't hold the magic that European art does, but it made me look twice, and re-evaluate my stand.

And ironically, during my American art sucks soapbox, I hadn't paid attention that I was dissing one of the most influential writers in my life - Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.

There it is then.

(picture above: "Street Performers" by Hughie-Lee Smith)

Like A Fuse

Sammie took off one night
In her beet purple beat down jeep
Beatles tunes repeating
Feeling deep in her seat

She told me one night
Fueled by tequila and chartreuse
It was all a ruse and no use
She was lit like a fuse, the booze

Between tears and cheers
Beers
She switched gears
Telling me she'd take off one night

And there she was,
Screaming to the world:
Sing me a song, let your heart cry out
Touch me, make me feel full of grace

I wonder when she realized
The compromise
That symbolized our ties
The lies

Sammie disappeared
Her words cutting through the night
Such a fight
Uptight, she drove out of sight

And there she was,
Screaming to the world:
Sing me a song, let your heart cry out
Touch me, make me feel full of grace

Movies, movies everywhere!

Sheryl and I rarely go to see movies, especially together. I'm more into "Iron Man", and she's more into "Sex and the City". She's a little bit country and I'm a little bit rock and roll...

Together, we've seen, like three movies at the theater, which averages to about one per year. In fact, I think the last one we saw was the third Bourne movie, which we saw last summer!

That was until recently, however.

Last November, we attended the Detroit Institute of Arts' (DIA) grand re-opening. While there, we became members. So earlier this summer, we received a pamphlet in the mail telling us what events were upcoming at the DIA.

Within the DIA is the Detroit Film Theater (DFT - pay attention, there will be a test at the end of this blog!), which seemed to have quite an interesting array of quirky films being shown throughout the season.

Sheryl wanted to see a few of the films, and I was interested in checking them out, too. I went online and purchased tickets.

So here we are in the month of August, and we have already seen two of the movies ("Jellyfish" and "Encounters at the End of the World"), with another two coming this week ("Rebirth of a Nation" and "Up the Yangtze"). We are like a walking Sundance Channel!

Oh yeah, and next week we've got the Children's Leukemia Foundation moviethon!

Good thing I'm going to physical therapy, or I'd have no time for exercise! LOL

Now, I don't know about Sheryl, but I love seeing these eclectic films - they open up my eyes and mind to more going on in the world besides our lives.

You know, sometimes we all get stuck in our little boxes and forget to venture out. This membership to the DIA has been a good thing. We still want to see the Sacred Places exhibit, and I am debating about joining an auxiliary. It would be really, really cool to get inside info on some art and the DIA, but man, sometimes the detail these people want to get into just sucks the life out of me! So I'm still debating about that.

I can definitely burn out on movies... but not so much on art... yet...

Me? Old? HAH!

Question: When is the best time to laugh about getting old?

There are two answers.

1) Always

2) See #1, particularly when your oncologist teases you about getting old.

For the last year or two or three, I've been struggling with my body. I never knew whether I was experiencing a certain pain or bump or bruise as a result of long term chemo/radiation side effects, or getting older.

I was a victim of this country's wonderful health care institution: insurance. I lost my job, and couldn't keep up with COBRA payments. Knowing full well that I'd have to deal with the pre-existing condition bullcrap, I just couldn't keep up my insurance and let it lapse.

As a result, years went by since I saw my oncologist. I passed the magical five-year mark without getting my graduation certificate - if you know what I mean.

So finally, this year, I decided it was time to close that chapter once and for all. I saw my oncologist - who naturally yelled at me for not following up properly - and being the thorough doc that he is, he sent me to a neurologist for my hip - just to make sure that it wasn't chemo related.

Sure enough, after my tests, it was determined that my hip problem is related to a couple of herniated discs in my lower back.

So I returned to my oncologist armed with this information, and he started to dance - "I knew it!" He exclaimed animatedly. "You are getting old, Matt!"

And we laughed.

He said he was happy because he wasn't the only one getting old, and I told him that with the history we have between us, I am very happy to be getting old!

His face got serious for a moment, and he said pointedly: "Well said." He took a moment and reiterated: "Well said..."

I still have to get a CT scan to get this wrapped up and put a bow on it. In three months, this will all be over. I already have my peace of mind, but I an still waiting for my diploma - the handshake and the tassle that tells me that I am getting old.

Thank God!!

Age is such a depressing thing for so many people. For me, I recognize that yeah, it's gonna wreak havoc on my body, but shit, that ain't nothing that I haven't already gone through! We should welcome age and the wisdom that comes along with it, not treat it like it's a bad thing.

After all, it's better than the alternative!

A Memory is a Terrible Thing to Taste...

Memories are terribly important to us. They are the basis for stories, folklore and rumors. They can also cause crazy emotions such as sadness, happiness, anger and ecstacy.

I have spent a lot of time this summer talking about summers past. I have truly missed them. My favorite summer memories that have popped up this year are the summers when I was a leetle boy, and hung out with my mom's Uncle Phil.

My mom, Grandma and I would go to see Uncle Phil and Auntie Aggie, and Uncle Phil and I would head out to the garage to let the wimmin's talk. He was the coolest, because he was the oldest guy I knew who would treat me like a person and not as a kid.

In the garage, Uncle Phil always seemed to have some building materials laying around. He would let me build the crappiest things in the world - although my imagination turned them into birds, planes, cars, etc. When we got done building stuff, we would head down the street to the park and play.

This entire summer, the weather has reminded me of those unemcumbered days shooting the bull with my buddy Phil. Those memories have given me such pain and longing in my heart that I haven't known what to do with it.

I was talking to my mom yesterday, and realized that maybe I just needed to embrace those memories, and acknowledge them. Maybe I need to say a few silent prayers to Uncle Phil, who died long ago. Maybe these memories are his way of contacting me to say: "hey, my brother, don't forget me!"

Maybe these are also memories that need to be documented for posterity.

Memories can be a bitch, man, but if we can figure out the proper use for them, perhaps we can grow into stronger, better people. Looking back on my time with Uncle Phil, for example, has got me wondering if I have been someone for my nephews and nieces to look up to - just like I still do to my old pal Uncle Phil.

Thank you for blessing me with those memories. I hope you're stockpiling some nails wherever you are, I've learned to swing a pretty mean hammer!

Bicentennial Post (#200)!!

Early August is considered the dog days. This term was coined because the constellation Canis Major ("big dog") and Canis Minor ("little dog") are easily visible in the night sky.

The name is apt, too. After all, when we think "dog days of summer", we think of dogs laying around and panting because it's so hot. They are lethargic and generally "blech".

These first two weeks of August often seem like the hottest days of summer. But... you can also feel change in the air. August is like a mime pulling a fake rope, only on the other end of the fake rope is a hint of fall.

This entire summer, I've been trying to reconnect with summers in the past. Sheryl and I have been so busy that I feel like I haven't really relaxed and enjoyed it. Of course, since we vacationed in Florida last winter, we haven't taken any time off this summer as well. So that might have something to do with it.

But I can feel the change coming. For me, I feel like it's going to be a spiritual change - time to spark the zen again (said Ben the hen as only he can!).

The Perseid meteor shower will take place the night (and/or morning) of August 12. I would love to be able to find a dark spot and have a late night picnic with my wife as we contemplate life under a waterfall of shooting stars.

Lots of riding left this season, too, and I still have an outside chance of hitting my goal of 2,000 miles. Man, I love riding.

Whoo-hoo for my bicentennial post!

Is this what Kool meant?

I was talking to a friend of mine about the Tour de France. I was disappointed that Carlos Sastre won, although he and his team executed a perfect plan for capturing the overall victory. My disappointment lies in the fact that I do not like Sastre.

Why not? Because of this. Yes, that's a fricking pacifier in his mouth, in honor of his newborn child.

The thing that I hate about Sastre's pacifier is that he carried that with him for the entire ride, in case he won. His victory celebration was planned - not pure, uncontrollable joy - which is what I truly love to see.

Something like
Stuart O'Grady's victory salute;
Or Paolo Bettini's victory salute in honor of his brother who died two weeks prior;
How about Felix Cardenas' joy;
Here's another good one;
Fabian Cancellara looking like a vampire;
Frank Schleck doing some great face-scrunching!

Joy of achieving your dreams and celebrating victory... not some pre-planned Sharpie-in-the-sock, sign-in-the-snow, cell-phone-under-the-padding celebration.

The pacifier in the mouth was the first Sastre victory I saw. First impressions DO mean a lot!

The Great American Novel

We hear time and time again about the elusive GREAT AMERICAN NOVEL. Over and over, someone on our periphery is going into seclusion, or graduating college, or sniffing glue in order to write THE GREAT AMERICAN NOVEL.

To be honest, I never had interest in writing THE GREAT AMERICAN NOVEL. In fact, I hardly care about THE GREAT AMERICAN NOVEL. I find nearly all American art - aside from music - incredibly boring.

During a visit to the Detroit Institute of Arts, I'd rather lie in the middle of the European art exhibits than meander through the American art wing.

Now, I am far from an elitist art snob. There is a lot of American art I like. There are a ton of American writings that I enjoy.

But to me, the concept of THE GREAT AMERICAN NOVEL is totally snobbish. And hence, BORING.

So does anyone actually know what the current GREAT AMERICAN NOVEL is? Is there a GREAT AMERICAN NOVEL, or is it just a concept?

Is there a GREAT RUSSIAN NOVEL? How about a GREAT CHINESE NOVEL?

I personally think it would be cool to write THE GREAT TRINIDAD/TOBAGO NOVEL - while still residing in America.

How about them apples?

Angry Red Sun

The angry red sun sneered at me from the horizon

"I woke up on the wrong side of the bed," he said to me, "I will burn your grass and kill your flowers. I will fill your day with miserable heat!"

I took a confused moment, trying not to look directly at the sun,

"You say you woke up on the wring side of the bed?" I asked.

"YES!" the sun bellowed.

I said, "But you are rising again in the East, like you have for many thousands of years. Wouldn't waking up on the wrong side of the bed mean that you'd rise in the West?"

The sun softened its harsh spotlight glow, and pondered.

"Why yes," he finally responded, "I suppose that's true! My friend, thank you for setting me straight. Have a wonderful day!"

Feeling the warm glow of the sun on my face, I realized that the day had already started wonderfully.

We have a lot of ups and downs
Out and abouts and round and rounds
The shining sun warms our bones
Feeding the day, setting the tone
Smiling faces fill empty spaces
While a finger traces winning races
The air around us, filling our lungs
With life and warmth of powerful suns
We have what we've got, no less, no more
Shall we laugh so hard our cheeks get sore?
We set ourselves up for what we get
But the future hasn't passed, it isn't written yet
Let's make our days bright sunrays
Cool blue waves on tropical bays
We have a lot of ups and downs
Out and abouts and round and rounds
But that's not the map of iron and stone
Change it as you want, change the tone.

This past week was the Register's Annual Great Bike Ride Across Iowa (RAGBRAI). I love rides like that. I love that your only mission each day - for an entire week - is to ride 50-80 miles. You can take as long as you want - or not.

A ride like this causes you to burn so many calories, that you can eat whatever you want, however often as you want, and STILL lose weight! How cool is it that one of the most popular roadside stops is a pink school bus, where the owner - Mr. Porkchop - sells riders an Iowa-sized porkchop?

One of the things I love about rides like RAGBRAI is riding with friends. During the evening when everyone gets together for dinner, there are stories shared that will last forever.

"I stopped in town and talked to Ben Franklin!"

"I got stuck behind a bunch of riders, and all of a sudden, I found myself in the middle of a parade! So I went with it for nearly a half mile!"

"Did you hear that someone got married during today's route?"

"Yeah! I was there!"

And not only do the stories live forever, but the memories do, too. And I love that!

But there is something to be said, too, about the quick solo bike rides. You pedal, lost in your microverse. You are completely selfish, thinking "my legs are a little tired," "Why am I breathing so hard?" "Am I going to be able to get there in time?"

And suddenly, you see something so stunningly beautiful, that you forget about you. You feel like you are truly part of the universe. You feel the warm magic of being one with everything.

I am struggling right now with getting the mileage in that I used to. It's very frustrating to feel wiped out after a 15 mile ride, when just last year, I was riding 25-50 miles. And recover takes longer these days, too. That sucks, because I want to ride long distances and have no post-ride "hangovers".

But then again, if I am able to ride 12 miles 3 days a week, then I am still given the opportunity to experience a zen moment every one of those times. And believe it or not, a zen moment can be the fix that feeds your soul.

Time For Livin'

Everything is alright.

I am a firm believer in the quote "Knowledge is Power". However, there is such a thing as "SOME Knowledge is Dangerous". And that is where I was yesterday.

The EMG in some ways was more painful, and in some ways less painful than expected. My legs are sore from the prodding they took yesterday. But on the bright side, I was told that I have only a slightly pinched nerve at the base of my spine.

The weakness in my legs were likely a result of protecting the pain in my hip. In fact, yesterday, my legs were strong again.

This is not to say that there's nothing wrong with me. We're still working on diagnosing my hip pain, but we're closer. And the diagnosis does not look as daunting as it did yesterday.

Whew! Sweet relief!

This was a warning shot across the bow, and it needs to be taken seriously.

Thank you for your well wishes. A huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders.

For Real...

Well, after all my big talk and crankiness, it's time to acknowledge the 800-pound gorilla sitting there in the corner.

Today I am scheduled for an EMG test. I've had this test a few years ago, and it was extremely painful. I am not looking forward to it. At all. Period.

But if the EMG is a dark cloud, then the results are the thunderheads looming on the horizon. I can't go on any further without admitting it - I'm scared.

For the first time in quite a while, my thoughts are so convoluted that I can't even express what's going on in my head. I first saw my oncologist to get resolution on some things going on in my body that I thought were a little strange. I totally expected him to say "yep, you are just getting old, son... everything else is peachy." Instead, he suggested that I see a neurologist for the pain I've been having in my hip. Of course, this is before getting an obligatory CT scan...

So I go to the neurologist, who points out that I've got muscle failure in my upper legs. Now this would explain why I've been getting back spasms while riding - I've been using the muscle to failure.

On a side note, the neuro also tells me that my gag reflex is slow, which could be a result of radiation treatment. The same for my perpetual dry throat and occasional difficulty swallowing.

Yep, f*cking peaches and cream here.

So because of the pain in my hip and muscle failure in my legs, I am going to get an EMG today. Afterwards, I am likely to get an MRI of my hip, spine and noggin. These things will help diagnose my hip problem (and my noggin).

Best case, I am hoping that the neuro says that I need to lose weight and get my back and abs stronger.

I can't help but hear that nagging voice in the back of my mind suggesting that it could be worse. I've had abnormal blood readings lately, which could be nothing or lupus. My hip could be nothing or MS. My gag reflex could be nothing or a tumor.

The thing that scares me most is that I am weary of fighting. Weary of drama. Weary of constantly being put in survivor mode. This is why I want Sheryl and I to be proactive with our health. I know I'm not the healthiest person alive, but I need to be healthier in order to enjoy the rest of my life. I need to be prepared to happily live another 40 years. If something negative blasts me from left field, how am I going to react this time? To be perfectly honest, I am afraid of that answer.

Stupid 800-pound gorillas. They should stay in the zoo, and not sit in the corner of the room.

So there it is. I know that I should not post this, but I hope that something positive will result from putting my fears out there.

With all that said, I've got a stupid EMG test this afternoon. It may or may not be painful, who knows? It may help diagnose my painful hip. And no matter what, I've got a need to know. I need to know what is going on.

As you can see, my mind can go loco if I dwell on the possibilities. Give me facts and hard evidence, and let's go from there.

For real, can we stop the carousel?

When I Got Cool...

I grabbed my bike, and headed to the studio to meet Gregor, who was giving me guitar lessons in return for ghost writing his autobiography.

Traffic was actually light, and I bolted between red lights and stop signs, barely working up a sweat in the cool dawn.

Gregor slept during the day, no doubt dreaming up his amazing aural landscapes and visual palettes. When he returned from Operation Desert Storm, the chilling agony that laid behind his eyes purged itself through art and music.

One would expect his haunting visions to manifest themselves through dark and deadly forms of imagination, but surprisingly, his art and music were beautiful, rich and deep. We're not talking Barry Manilow love songs, mind you, but soulful and insightful works.

Last year, Gregor decided to put his story into book form. Although he was an artist and musician, he realized that he was too close to the story and needed an objective eye to focus on it. He put an ad on Craigslist, and apparently, I was the first to respond.

At the interview, Gregor and I realized that we had a lot in common. We shared a love for the arts - he could paint and play music, and I loved looking at art and listening to music. We became quick friends, and came to an agreement for writing the book.

Part of the agreement was that Gregor and I would work in the morning. He tended to stay up all night, fueled by Led Zeppelin, Foo Fighters, Iron Maiden, and Crystal Method, painting on floor to ceiling canvases in preparation for his latest exhibit.

In order to wind down after painting, he would have me come over to his studio, and we would have a couple of drinks - I would drink coffee-flavored water, and he would drink Absinthe - fresh off its' 100 year ban. We would work together for a couple of hours, and I would go to my "real job", and transcribe my notes at home later on.

As I said, Gregor and I quickly became friends. But business was business, and I had to ensure I was being paid fairly for the work I was doing. When Gregor came up short on cash one week, we decided to lower my fee, but only if he agreed to give me guitar lessons once a week.

It was Friday, and I was stoked. I work 10 hour shifts four times a week. Today was the first day of my weekend, and the summer morning was starting beautifully.

(more to come...?)

Stop the Carousel, I Wanna Get Off

Today is just one of those beautiful summer days that I want get off the carousel and do some exploring.

I sat on the deck as the sun was coming up, and was overwhelmed with the childhood feelings of summer mornings. I am holding onto that feeling for as long as I can, because I know it will be gone far too soon.

Sometimes you get so caught up in the carousel of every day life and sometimes you happen to realize it. Instead of air conditioning, I want summer breeze blowing across my skin. Instead of sitting at a desk, I want to be carelessly riding my bike wherever I want to be at that moment. I don't want to think about my doctor appointments, rather I want to run through the woods, watching the birds fly by overhead and the sun peek in and out from behind branches.

Yeah, stop the carousel, I wanna step off.

I don't want to watch or read the news. I want childhood ignorance ruled by stats on the back of baseball cards. I want to splash around in a pool, not caring how much water is spilled over the edge. I would love to lie on the grass, and watch the clouds roll lazily by, and not worry about who is going to cut that grass or water the flowers. I want to run down the ice cream man, eagerly searching the menu for a Good Humor Strawberry Shortcake bar instead of hiding from the Postman and the bills he'll bring.

Really, I'm not asking for much - just one day. One amazing childhood summer day.

Needles on my brain...

I am seething right now about Le Tour... The Grand Boucle has sufferred a HUGE blow with Ricardo Ricco returning a positive piss test.

I have stated in the past that I cannot blame cyclists for their past dirty deeds. Eric Zabel, Frankie Andreu, and Bjarne Riis have all admitted to doping in the 90s. Again, I can't blame them. That was the culture of cycling in the 90s.

However, cycling has worked hard to clean up its reputation. The French have bitched that they have not won much of anything in Le Tour in recent years because everyone who has won has doped. But not the French! Blah blah blah...

Team CSC, Discovery Channel (now Astana), Team High Road (now Team Columbia) and Slipstream-Chipotle (now Garmin-Chipotle) have taken a stance on doping within their teams. They have upgraded all testing, and made their practices transparent. And guess who has had most of the success this year overall??

So Dr. Rasmus Damsgaard - the man who has implemented the strict doping controls with CSC and other teams - came out and said that he is concerned about the doping controls in this years' Tour. He feels that they are not stringent enough, and focus mainly on the Spanish riders.

Sure enough, two Spanish riders have already been kicked out of the Tour for doping this year. But the biggest blow was today when young hotshot jackass Ricardo Ricco was popped for doping. His team, Saunier-Duval, was the top team in Tour winnings so far this year.

Guess what? Ricco isn't Spanish... but he's not French, either. He's Italian! BUT... Saunier-Duval is a SPANISH TEAM! Word is that Saunier-Duval didn't even start the race today. They tucked their tails and packed their shit and left France.

I know that I'm rambling. There is so much in my head about this crap that I need to get out. I'll try to summarize:

Cycling is trying to clean up. CSC, Garmin and Columbia are trying to become examples of clean riding. Ironically, none of these teams are French.

Idiots are still trying to beat the system, and the system is enabling them to do it.

But a few got caught, which is good and bad.

It's good because it shows that the hole-laden net of controls CAN work when it wants to.

It's bad because this happens every year, and people are getting good and tired of people cheating.

I understand that there is a ton of pressure to compete on a high level. I understand that people are given the ability to cheat. But what people don't understand - what sportsmen cannot seem to get a grip on (especially when mo' money is involved!) - is that they ARE heroes to kids and others who seek inspiration.

Too bad. If you can't handle it, then get out of the business. It is a necessary evil.

DOPING IS NOT.

Thanks a lot, Ricardo Ricco, for f*cking up another opportunity for a sport that I love to clean up its image. Your cocky-ass, mouth-shooting arrogance just bit you in the ass more than the bite of the needle. If your B sample comes back positive, you will be suspended for two years. You will come back, and I won't care. Hopefully, no one will.

Where's that ego of yours now?

Yeah, I'm not only seething, but a little bitter, too... :)

Life and Death Comes Down to Health

"I am health, I am strength, I am success and I am abundance. That is my nature, and that is what I am."

"I am slim, trim, lean and thin."

These are my affirmations, which I typically recite in the shower each day. I've been saying the first one for a couple of years, and it has essentially been true. The latter one, however, I'm still working on. I figure if I say it enough, I will believe it.

This weekend, I had an experience that had only happened to me twice before. I thought there was something SERIOUSLY wrong with me. I also call this an "Oh f*ck! moment".

One day, while I was going through chemo, I had decided to binge on pizza. Considering that pizza itself is slow to digest, and the chemo I was on caused constipation, I put myself into a world of hurt. That night, while my belly was bloated, my sciatica was triggered, and I began having pain in places I never had pain before.

That was the first time I seriously thought I was going to die.

The next time was this past Halloween. I awoke in the middle of the night with intense pain in my back and right shoulder. Motrin barely touched the pain, and I was afraid that soemthing was going on that I couldn't overcome. I knew it wasn't a heart attack, because that would have been left-side pain...

I tend to have problems with my chest, back and right shoulder as a result of a mountain biking crash 10+ years ago. I separated my shoulder, as well as the cartilage in my back and sternum. And sure enough, I can tell when the weather changes...

In any case, I had slept funny earlier that day, and aggravated my shoulder and back. Time took care of fixing that.

This weekend, I awoke in the middle of the night with intense pain in my hip and leg. I had been having problems with my hip for about a year, but the doc can't seem to find anything wrong. So I tried stretching and massaging the pain away. Eventually, the Motrin kicked in, and I was able to go back to bed.

While I was up, though, the thought popped into my mind that I might have to get my hip replaced. And there was no way that would be possible with me being as overweight as I am. So I was shocked into action, and am now focusing on being better to myself and my body.

I'm not fooling myself. I know it's going to be a long, gradual road, but I have GOT to get healthier.

"I am slim, trim, lean and thin."

VIVE Le TOUR!

For me, July means Le Tour de France.

It also brings forth memories of my cycling guru - Uncle Jack ("UJ").

As a kid, I really enjoyed the attention given to me from my youngest aunts and uncles - Aunt Michelle, Uncle Ron and Uncle Jack. They were the coolest, and they are the model for what I want to be for my nieces and nephews.

I really loved riding my bike, and one day, I was floored when UJ rode his bike over to our house, and he and I rode through the neighborhood. Being a lil one at the time, I felt like we had ridden miles together, yet as I look back from an adult point of view, it was merely a few blocks.

Nonetheless, this is an extremely vivid memory from my childhood.

That day, UJ became my cycling guru.

Time passed, and we drifted in different directions. I stopped riding bikes when I got my license, only starting up again in my late 20's.

As I began riding again, I found my old memories drawing me back to UJ. We started e-mailing, sharing riding stories and a passion for cycling as adults.

Soon, we became semi-regulars in each others' life again.

Once I bought my house, I was located a short distance from UJ and family. They invited me over for dinner, and I invited them over for parties.

UJ's ability to cycle has been affected over the years, so when I signed up for my 2nd major ride - a 32-miler - UJ let me borrow his road bike. Man, the ride was SO much easier with that rather than with my mountain bike!!

Around the same time, Lance Armstrong started winning Le Tour, and UJ and I would call and e-mail each other in excitement -

"Did you see Lance give Ullrich 'the look'?" he asked me.

"No, I need to watch it tonight!"

"Oh, man," UJ would say, "Lance totally f'ed with Jan's head!"

Like little kids, we were.

UJ and his family moved to North Carolina. We would talk about doing the Assault on Mt. Mitchell, knowing full well that we never would.

And somehow, we finally got the chance to watch a few stages of the Tour together. We did the same the following year. And the year after that. It was bliss.

It has been a couple of years since then, yet me and UJ still e-mail back and forth, and I have no doubt that he wishes that I was there watching with him - just as much as I do.

Life goes on, and things change. You can say that cycling isn't a sport and bitch about the Tour being on TV for an entire month, but it's our time together - my cycling guru of 30+ years and mine - whether we see each other or not.

VIVE Le TOUR!

How Full Are You?

I was thinking about summer this morning, while I DROVE into work (stupid rain predictions!). My drive takes me right through the area I was born and raised, so there is always something to trigger early-life emotions, thoughts and memories.

This morning, I found myself thinking about the carefree days of childhood summers. The days lasted forever, and I was very influenced by the way we spent our time back then.

I thought about how we never seem to have the time that we did back then. We don't fully enjoy our days like we did as kids. This has become the lament of adulthood, but it has become something more to me.

Ever since I got sick, I realized that I needed to focus on doing things I wanted - as opposed to doing things that other people expected me to do. I also realized that time is short, and I needed to fill every possible moment in order to get the most out of life.

What I didn't expect was that this way of thinking would consume the life that I wanted to enjoy. I am finding myself trapped in the lament of adulthood... for completely different reasons than most others.

Like with addiction, acknowledging you have a problem is the first step. As a result of this new admission, I like to think that I will allow myself to smell the flowers a little more - to enjoy putzing around for the sake of putzing around and not because things need to get done.

It's quite a life that we have at our fingertips. Are we getting the full reward? Are we filling our cups? Are we making the memories that we want to remember for the rest of our lives?

Legacies

I was blown away last night watching "In the Shadow of the Moon" on the Discovery Channel.

Hearing the stories of going to the moon by the men who actually did it was a real eye opener. Yes, it was also a bit dramatic, but hey, it was good TV.

I have so much respect for those guys, and wish that today's kids had someone to look up to like that.

What will our legacy be?

I often wonder... and worry.

Time to get inspired!

The Day Winding Down

For me, the most magical part of the day is when afternoon/evening/twilight/night intermix. The neighborhood seems to settle down into its TV hypnosis, the birds chirp their goodnight's, and the roar of the nearby freeway turns into a dull hum.

When I was in college, I used to believe that pure nighttime was the best part of the day. I used to sit outside with my tape player/CD player and listen to music while getting sh*tfaced.

The same thing happens now as did then, although with a whole lot less drunken stupor. I find myself thinking, relaxing, breathing deeply and slowly. I think about how I feel within my surroundings - nature and my body.

I think about how much I enjoy being alive in the here and now. And I often find myself wishing that I could be sitting in a Buddhist temple, or similar sacred place.

What I feel at those times is what I feel every time I read Hermann Hesse's book "Siddhartha". It is quiet, yet powerful being, and I can recognize how fortunate I am to be able to experience that feeling.

Harnessing that feeling is what many religious people spend their lives working towards.

For now, I am just happy to step into that museum and browse the works. I can stay as long as I like, leave, and return again whenever I want.

I like that.

Age, Wisdom and Entitlement

At the risk of sounding like an old man, I need to get this off my chest.

Kids today are full of sh*t, and I feel like I want to punch every one of them.

What gives them the right of entitlement? If you give respect, you get respect, and every one of them punka$$ kids MUST EARN MY respect.

Why am I so riled? Check out this link.

Thoughts on the Four dime Two...

Now that I think about it, I never imagined I would reach the age of 42. I never thought I'd be dead by this point, either. I guess I just never thought about it.

Birthdays are highly significant to me for a few reasons:

• The first is because my mom always made birthdays special. So each birthday I have, I recall fond childhood memories of birthday celebrations. It makes me feel truly special each birthday - still.
• My dad died at 48. Ever since he died, I wanted to outlive him. I don't know why, but it's become something of a compulsion.
• I recognize what a gift it is to wake up every morning. Lately, I feel like I've forgotten this fact, but life is so damn crazy, we are never truly guaranteed a tomorrow.

As a result, I am honored and grateful to celebrate my 42nd birthday today. After today, I will never have a 42nd birthday - it is a once in a lifetime experience...

Must be a glass half-full day. ;)

They Weren't The Best

Remember when we rode the bus to work?
We'd laugh at jokes that no one else understood
And make up lives for the other passengers.
Those were good times, but they weren't the best.

Remember when we'd walk downtown?
We'd throw pennies into the fountain,
Knowing some homeless person would dig them out.
Those were good times, but they weren't the best.

Remember when we volunteered for Greenpeace?
We'd run around the park
Tripping on LSD, swearing that everyone we saw was Jesus.
Those were good times, but they weren't the best.

Remember when we'd run out of gas in the middle of the night?
We'd walk through alleys and construction sites
That even rats wouldn't scurry through.
Those were good times, but they weren't the best.

Remember when we'd go to the drive-in?
We'd sit on the hood of the car,
Throwing popcorn at each other.
Those were good times, but they weren't the best.

Remember when we'd sit on the window sill of your apartment
Drinking bottles of strawberry wine on
Those sweet summer nights after we made love?
Those were good times, but they weren't the best.

Remember when you asked me about the best times of my life?
I'd say they would have to be the times in between
When we weren't doing anything in particular
We just were. Together.

Those were good times. They were the best.

Father's Day

I figured I'd be better off getting this out rather than keeping it in.

This past weekend was Father's Day. Since my dad died 17 years ago, and since I don't have kids of my own, I don't really think about Father's Day as such...

For some reason, though, I found myself thinking about my dad more than usual. Nothing really mind-blowing or anything, but he was often in my thoughts.

The other night, while watching "Breaking Away", I noticed a smell of stale cigarettes, and asked Sheryl if she smelled it. She didn't. No biggie, except it sort of smelled like my dad. I said "Hi Dad! Happy Father's Day!" Within ten minutes, the smell was gone.

Last night, I was laying in bed, looking out the window. Because of the seasonal late sunsets, the sky was still light. I was reminded of summers as a kid, and how much I loved the warm, extended twilights. Again, I found myself thinking of my dad, and the beautiful August night (August 9, 1976 - to be exact) he let me stay up late to watch John Candelaria of the Pittsburgh Pirates throw a no-hitter against the Los Angeles Dodgers. I remember knowing - whether it was dad who had told me or not - the significance of the feat... knowing that I might never see another one in my lifetime.

(Oddly enough, in 1993, I was at the Astros game when Darryl Kile threw a no-hitter against the New York Mets)

I hope that whatever my dad is doing now, he is truly enjoying himself. I hope he knows that I appreciate him more and more as I get older.

And I appreciate those memories more and more as well...

Digging A Hole

Yeesh... I had one of those mornings where I dug a hole early, and no matter what I said or did, the hole got deeper and deeper.

I wonder how positive people can stay positive all the time... I am definitely a "glass half-full" person, but so far this morning, I haven't been able to shake the doldrums.

Needless to say, I lost the a**hole game on my way into work. :)

Thank goodness I've got the rest of the day to atone for my sins of the morning...

Cheap Thrills

I sat in silence for a few moments, last night, after watching the film "Breaking Away".

Being summertime, being a cyclist, and having been 19, I reflected on the themes of the movie.

In 1979, when the movie was released, the US was in the midst of a recession. Gas and oil prices were sky high, and we had drama with hostages in the Middle East.

Sound familiar?

"Breaking Away" touches on some of those ideas, but it was always the cycling that got me.

I always thought it was cool how Dave idolized the Italian cyclists... he constantly played Italian music and learned Italian phrases. He is no different than any of us, who buys Air Jordan shoes to be like Mike, buys Nike wear to be like Tiger Woods or Lance Armstrong. We all want to be part of something great.

Through a turn of events, Dave and his pals (played by a young Dennis Quaid, Jackie Earle Haley and Daniel Stern) end up riding in the Little 500 - an actual cycling event that takes place at Indiana University.

Dave is a freaking monster in this race, and I always admired him despite well documented production flaws that only freaks notice (for the record, I noticed one at the end of the race that wasn't covered in the link above. Ask me about it, I'll tell ya!).

At the end of the movie, you realize that the movie takes place within those edgy, uncomfortable moments of change. Things are as they are supposed to be when the credits start to roll.

It's a feel good story, and as I sat in silence, I was proud of my cycling "career", and the things that I accomplished on two wheels. I realized that my bikes and love of cycling carved out an environment in which the story of my own life played out.

Whether we know it or not, we all carve out environments in which to exist. We are lucky when our environments cross paths with those who become influential in our lives.

Yes, a simple movie (with flaws) can affect such comforting thoughts.

Who wants popcorn?

I wanna write a song
A song with guts and teeth
I wanna write a song
A song that gives relief
I wanna write a song
A song to sing and play
I wanna write a song
A song to sing all day
I wanna write a song
With some drama and soul
I wanna write a song
That will make us whole
I wanna write a song
To get me a lot of fame
I wanna write a song
That gives me someone to blame

The soul of a man and his goals and dreams
Needs to feed on the creative muse
Visions of wonder mark the path
Of the trail he needs to use

Blessings of grandeur and adoration flow
Driving the focus of success
Swallowing life’s water of lessons
Similar dreams to be best

I wanna write a script
Of life and its’ glory
I wanna write a book
Or some kind of story
I wanna write a tune
To hum when I die
I wanna write a song

When We Left Earth

When Sheryl and I went to Florida this winter, we spent a day at Kennedy Space Center. It was the second time I had been there, but no less of a rush. They've got quite a visitor's package, and plenty to see.

One of the highlights was going inside the recreation of mission control during the launch of an apollo mission. They took all of the desk consoles, etc., from the original missions and put them in working order to simulate the inner workings of a lift-off. You could smell the 60s in this room, and the event gave us goosebumps.

Yesterday, we watched "When We Left Earth - The NASA Missions". And sure enough, there was footage from the original mission control. It was stunning.

It all takes me back to my childhood, when space was so exciting. My memories of watching the apollo missions on TV stirs butterflies in my stomach. I recall going outside and watching as spacelab orbited overhead. I remember learning about the moon and stars. It was all so new and so fresh.

These days, the only things that seems to change is technology. Everyone is excited about GPS systems, the iPhone, blah, blah, blah. There doesn't seem to be a feat that really stimulates our imaginations anymore.

Maybe I'm jaded. Maybe I'm bored. I just wish there was something out there that we could really wrap our emotions around.

Fortunately, we still have shows like "When We Left the Earth", and we have complexes like Kennedy Space Center and Johnson Space Center in Houston. Hopefully these things will continue to stir up dreams, and spawn a technological future that will grip us by the throat with excitement.

Sing it, Rod!

Rod Stewart and Tina Turner both sang the song "Every Picture Tells a Story" (Or, as I sometimes prefer to call it, "Every picture of a jelly donut"). And the quote is true enough.

What is also true is that every bike ride has a story. This is one of the things I love about cycling. I love the stories, I love the culture, I love the community.

Each leg of my commutes to work this week had a story... whether it was standing completely still while trying to climb "Mt. Madison Heights", and realizing that I may end up falling down the hill because I had no forward momentum... or if it was the fact that during the course of the day, there had been some repaving done on the sidewalk, which forced me to ride (as quickly as possible!) on a VERY busy highway that only had one of two lanes open!

Very often, we travel through life way too fast. Cycling to work forces you to slow down. After all, you are only getting where you need to go as fast as your chicken legs take you. I love that.

I also love that I can postpone buying gas for a few days. The funny thing is that I get a lot of looks on the road from car drivers. The looks used to be the "get the hell out of my way, fatass!" variety. Now they've softened. They are more like the "Damn, I'm so jealous!" look.

Seeing as that I'm a story-person anyway, commuting to work on my bike seems to be a perfect match. Maybe on the weekends, I'll find myself wanting to go to work, rather than wanting to get out on the bike...

HA HAH!!... I may be crazy, but I ain't stoopid!