Come on, Dick, drop the ball... PLEASE!!!

Okay, we've established that not all things in 2005 were bad. One of the most exciting things for me was marketing "Cancerboy".

So as I eagerly await a brand new year, let's reflect on my favorite "Cancerboy" moments:

6. Book release - I mentioned this in my last post... how exciting to publish your own book!!
5. Mirror article - The 3/4 page article was a lot of fun to show around.
4. Ferndale library book reading - Even though 5 people showed up, it was exciting to discuss my book and field questions from the audience.
3. Lewiston library - In honor of my grandfather, who lived in Lewiston, I donated a copy of my book to the library. It so happened to be on the day that they were putting together the time capsule, and have a friends of the library party! Wow! Too cool to be a coincidence!
2. Book signing Memorial Day weekend - It was incredibly touching for so many loving people to come out and support the release of "Cancerboy".
1. Gilda’s Club book reading - This single event changed my life. To sit and talk about the devastating events in my life to a roomful of people, then point out how each event helped make me a stronger person was in-freaking-credible. This was a butterfly leaving its' cocoon moment that we captured on tape!

So this will probably be my last blog for 2005. I want to thank everyone who made this year more bearable, and everyone who came to my aid on so many different occasions.

May 2006 bring you and your loved ones much happiness, health and love.

Listing, Listing... part 2

Okay, seeing as that it is the end of a tumultuous year, I am presenting my top 5 worst events and top 6 best events of 2005. Tomorrow, I will be presenting my top Cancerboy moments.

Matt's Top Five Worst Events of 2005:
5. The war in Iraq - I hate the fact that this has been spun to the degree that if I question the war, I suddenly become un-American. Screw that!
4. Hurricane Katrina - I don't think that anyone will disagree... except for the face that it's not #1 on my list. Well, despite the happy holiday season, I'm feeling pretty selfish!
3. Hurricane Rita - Coming on the tail of Katrina, Rita did more damage in Florida than was covered by the news - which was still covering Katrina's impact in New Orleans.
2. Being out of work - See? I said I was selfish! With the employment being so shitty here in Michigan, no wonder so many college grads are moving out of state!
1. Having job for 5 weeks, then getting laid off - Talk about a tease! For me, this single event was comparable to getting knocked out by a Mike Tyson in his prime... I'm STILL reeling!

For me, in general, 2005 sucked. However, some amazing things still came my way.

Matt's Top Six Best Events of 2005:
6. Celebrating my birthday - After having had cancer, this will always be a highlight of any year!
5. Hamtramck festival - I hung out with my old friend Leonard, and along with Sheryl, we went to see the Hard Lessons. Great music and people who are very important to me... it don't get much better than that!
4. Trip down south/Tour de France w/ UJ - My three week excursion down South - Georgia, Florida and North Carolina, in search of work... and later in the year, I got to watch a stage of Lance's final Tour de France with my cycling guru Uncle Jack. Great memories.
3. Lilly’s birth/Mom’s surprise party - my niece was born while we were celebrating my mom's 60th birthday party. Now THAT is cool!
2. Publishing "Cancerboy" - I always wanted to leave my mark in life. And now that I am a published writer... registered with the Library of Congress... I think a mark has been made.
1. Meeting Sheryl - Hands down, the most influential (and positive) event of 2005 was meeting Sheryl. Being with Sheryl has taught me so much about myself and what I'd been missing in life. She hates it when I say this, but I wish so much that I had a job so I could treat her the way I think she deserves to be treated. When I close my eyes at night to go to sleep, I regularly thank God for Sheryl being in my life.

Listing, Listing...1, 2, 1, 2

Okay, so it's technically Wednesday and I haven't started my "Best Of 2005" lists yet... To catch up, I'm posting the first two tonight.

Here we go...

Matt's Top 5 Guilty Pleasures of 2005: (in no particular order...)
Survivor
Nip/Tuck
Biggest Loser
Pink is the new blog
Post secret

Favorite CDs: (possibly not released in 2005 and in no particular order)
Wilco - Kicking Television: Live in Chicago
Nikka Costa - Cantneverdidnothin'
Chemical Brothers - Push the Button
Gorillaz - Demon Days
Goldfrapp - Black Cherry (prior to 2005)
Zero 7 - When It Falls (prior to 2005)
Beck - Guero
White Stripes - Get Behind Me Satan (includes "My Doorbell", which Sheryl doesn't like) ;)
Eric Clapton - Back Home
Stan Ridgway - Snakebite (2004?)
Green Day - American Idiot

Bonus List:
Best Concerts of 2005:
Wilco (Meadowbrook Theater, June 21)
Stan Ridgway (Magic Bag)
Nikka Costa (Magic Bag)
Los Lobos (Tastefest, June 28)
Aerosmith (Palace of Auburn Hills, December 15)

Tannenbaum
Christmas 2005

Searching the lot for the perfect Christmas tree, I wandered amongst the pines. From the corner of my eye, I spied the perfect specimen hiding in the back.
Jingle bells jangled in my head while I bundled my coat against the winter air, making my way into the mini-forest of festive evergreens.
The wonderful pine aroma made my olfactory nerve dance, triggering memories from years gone past.
I smiled to myself as I remembered the holiday faces of my family – my mother, father, grandparents, brothers, aunts, uncles and cousins – smiling and laughing.
As I glided from one memory to the next, I suddenly realized that I hadn’t been paying attention to where I was going.
Somehow, I got turned around. I was lost!
I tried retracing my footprints in the snow, but it proved futile.
So I stopped and stood quietly – looking, searching – trying to regain my bearings.
There was a sound – the sound of something or someone sneaking up on me.
I pressed my back against a tree and raised my arms and leg – the crane pose.
– Heck, it worked for the Karate Kid, why not me? –
Standing statue-like, I saw a flash of something red beyond the brush ahead of me. Then a flash of green. And another!
I cautiously stepped away from the tree and made my way to the brush.
Peering through some branches, I saw what appeared to be a group of children decorating a Christmas tree. Even weirder – they wore long green jackets, caps and shorts!
I wiped my eyes, unsure of what I’d seen, and stepped a little closer.
“What do you suppose is going on?” a voice in my head asked. “What in the world are they doing?”
I froze, suddenly realizing that it wasn’t a voice in my head - somebody was speaking to me!
Shocked, I spun around.
Standing in front of me, was a familiar man dressed in a familiar red suit, laughing a familiar laugh.
“Ho! Hohohoho!” he snorted.
He was laughing so hard that I thought he was going to pee his pants!
“You should have seen the look on your face, Matt!” he chuckled as he wiped tears from his eyes.
It was happening again. It’s been happening nearly every year lately. I opened my mouth as if I had something to say.
“Come with me, son,” Santa said. He put an arm around me and led me through the brush.
“The elves and I are decorating a Christmas tree for the reindeer. We do it every year.”
“Ummm… why?” I asked.
“Because reindeer don’t have hands!” He held his belly as he laughed. “Ho! Hohohoho…”
I smiled.
“Anyway,” Santa continued, “I thought I heard something in the woods over there and went to investigate. You never know when you might run into a bear… or a crane! Ho! Hohohoho…”
I laughed. Obviously, he saw my awesome Karate Kid impersonation.
“So… Would you like some hot chocolate?”
“Sure!” I said, remembering last years’ velvety cocoa treat.
Santa stepped to a big red bag and pulled out a thermos and a huge mug. He poured a steaming cup of hot chocolate and handed it to me.
“How did I get here, Santa? I’m obviously not in the Christmas tree lot.” I looked around and felt a twinge of panic. “And…how will I get back??”
“Well, you might not realize this, Matt, but every time you have a happy memory of Christmas, it brings you closer to me. Were you having a lot of Christmas memories before I found you?”
“Why yes, I was!”
One of the elves had given me a handful of tinsel, and I began draping it over the pine branches while sipping the best hot chocolate I’d had in nearly a year.
“When you’re ready to leave, just let me know. I’ll show you the way back.”
“You mean you don’t mind if I stick around?!”
“Of course not!” Santa replied. “Besides, the elves have a hard time reaching the higher branches.”

So I helped Santa and the elves decorate the tree and drank hot cocoa.
Soon, however, my eyelids started getting heavy. I struggled to keep them open, but eventually gave into my weariness, closing them only for a moment – just to give them a rest.
When I opened my eyes, I was sitting in my car in my own driveway. Stupefied, I stepped out of the car only to find a gorgeous Christmas tree strapped to the roof!
I reached into my pocket for my keys and found a hand-scribbled note.

Many Christmas blessings, my friend… to you and your friends and family!
Share the magic of Christmas with them as you have with us. The reindeer love the tree!
By the way, I forgot to tell you that Mrs. Claus and I really enjoyed your book! You’ve got a real talent and we wish you great success!
Happy holidays… and remember… you better be good, for goodness sake!
Santa

I smiled and stuffed the note into my pocket. I unstrapped the tree and took it into the house.

Like a Reindeer in the Bikelights…
Christmas, 2004

I was lying on my back in the cold, wet snow,
Knocked from my bike by a deer in the road.
I was seeing stars in the still, black night, as I carefully reviewed my mental checklist:

Can you move your toes?
(Wiggle) Yup.
Fingers?
(Wiggle) Yup.
Feel the cool breeze on your cheeks?
Pause. That’s a 10-4…

My breath caught up with me,
And I gasped the frozen air into my lungs,
Coughing, coughing, coughing…

Stiffly, sorely, I stood up, brushing snow from my clothes.
I grabbed my battered bicycle, crawled out of the ditch, and nearly stepped right into

Huh?

I vigorously shook my throbbing noggin, and rubbed my eyes.
Strangely, Santa Claus was still standing in front of me!
As the high pitched whine in my head began to subside,
I heard him chuckle.

“Sorry ‘bout that, Matt,” he said,
“We always seem to run into each other this time of year, don’t we?”

“Santa?” I said incredulously, reaching out to touch his coat just to see if this was real.

He chuckled again.
“Prancer stopped to tinkle,” Santa explained,
“Unfortunately, you startled him just as he was getting ready to take off and rejoin us.”

As Santa waved his white glove towards the middle of the road,
I noticed for the first time, a sleigh and reindeer!

One of the deer stepped forward, and gently licked my cheek.
“Oh, look,” Santa said, “Prancer says he’s sorry.”

I patted the animal on the forehead.
“Sorry I startled you, Prancer,” I heard myself say.

Although I’d never before seen a reindeer smile, I’d swear Prancer did just that as he stepped back to join the other reindeer.

Santa looked at the sky.
“Beautiful night tonight.
But then again, Christmas is always beautiful…
Matt, we’ve gotta stop meeting like this.”

I laughed. I laughed so hard, I heard my voice echo through the evening air.
It was a great sound.

I saw Santa steal a look at his watch. I knew it wouldn’t be long before he had to leave.

“Santa,” I said, “I don’t suppose you have any of those amazing chocolate chip cookies that Mrs. Claus bakes…
I’ve been riding for a couple of hours and could use some extra oomph to get me home…

Santa smiled and winked.
“You made quite an impression on Mrs. Claus when you came to see us in North Pole years ago.
She asks me to check on you every once in a while, and every year, she asks me to drop off some cookies at your house.
Sometimes, though,” he patted his belly, “I accidentally eat them before I get to Ferndale.
But since it’s early, I still happen to have a few.
Come on over to the sleigh with me.”

I swung my bike around next to me.
To my amazement, my battered bike was as good as new!

When I turned to Santa, he was already holding out a steaming chocolate chip cookie.
“Would you like some milk to wash this down?” He asked.

I smiled.
“No thanks, Santa,” I said, pulling a bottle from its cage on my bike.
“I’ve still got a little… hot chocolate… in my thermos bottle?”

I shook the bottle. It was warm and completely full!

“Santa…” I began to ask.

“Matt, you have a good heart.
I’ve seen the things you’ve done throughout the year.
I sense the love you have within you – for your family and friends.
Mrs. Claus and I both admire that.”

I couldn’t believe my ears.

Santa continued:
“Share your love at Christmas; Matt… it’s the greatest gift you can give.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“Merry Christmas, Matt. To you, your family and friends.
You better get a move on, though; if you’re gonna get to your Mom’s in time to open presents!” Santa laughed.

I smiled.
“Thank you, Santa! Merry Christmas! To Mrs. Claus, too!”

I swallowed the last of the cookie with a gulp of rich hot chocolate, and waved into the sky as Santa and his reindeer took to flight.

Hopping on my bike, I clicked in my shoes, and danced on the pedals,
Fa-la-la-la-la-ing the final 10 miles home.

More Than Just Any Other Day
Christmas, 2003

As dawn approaches,
I sleep with the spirits of Christmas -
Who comfort me with dreams
Of Christmases past
And hopes
For Christmases future.

As I awake on another magical Christmas morning
- To the music of church bells and snowblowers -
I smile and stretch and rub my eyes.
I lie there, staring at the ceiling,
While childhood Christmas memories
Energize my mind.

After weeks of pre-Christmas stress,
I take a moment to acknowledge these memories
And realize that not just any day evokes these thoughts in my head.

It’s Christmas –

A day of love and joy and peace.
A day to celebrate family and friends.
A day to welcome the warm embrace of childhood mysteries.
A day when dreams come true…

I get out of bed, and wander into the kitchen.
On the table sits the plate of cookies I left for Santa last night –
Empty, next to a glass of half-drunk milk.

I smile, loving Christmas tradition,
And I notice the red voice mail light blinking on my telephone
- Although the phone never rang.

I dial the voice mail number.
“You have one unheard message…” the voice mail lady says, “First message…”

The voice of my dreams, my memories, my loved ones,
The voice of angels, of god, of Santa?
“Merry Christmas, Matt,”
The voice says, surprisingly overwhelming me to near tears,
“Merry, MERR-R-RY Christmas!”

There was no call on the caller ID,
And no name left with the message.
And instead of wondering who would have called,
I grin and hang up the phone.

Santa or god or angels,
Or the spirits of loved ones, my memories or dreams.
The magic of Christmas does funny things.
But that’s what makes it magic.
And that magic is what makes Christmas more than just any other day.

Seeking Essence
Christmas 2002

Beneath the Christmas sky,
In the calm, bright silent night,
I scan the stars
And send salutations across the universe.

The frosty air burns my throat,
I smile so hard I think I might cry,
And talk inwardly to those who have transitioned.
I thank them for all of their help -
For I am a lucky man.

Momentarily, I will step inside the warm, glowing house
And surround myself with the people I love most.
I will miss those who are somewhere else,
And toast them and their families.

In the meantime,
My eyes watch for Santa and his reindeer.
And though my chances of catching a glimpse are slim,
I could never get too old to hope to see
My essence of Christmas magic–
The jolly man himself.

The Christmas Dream
2001


I was riding my bike in Alaska,
And stopped at North Pole.
I spoke to Santa, and Mrs. Claus fed me homemade chocolate chip cookies.

The dream was so real that I could still smell the cookies.

Then I heard it again… the sound of faint whispering coming from elsewhere in the house.
I stepped into my fuzzy bunny slippers and pulled on my robe.
I reached for the baseball bat in the closet and leaped into the hallway.

Down the hall, the warm glow of twinkling Christmas tree lights bounced along the walls…
But didn’t I turn off the lights before I went to bed?

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I remembered that it was Christmas morning –
ANYTHING COULD HAPPEN!

My heart began to race, and adrenaline pumped through my veins as I peeked around the corner into the living room.

There was a quick flash of light, did I see…?!?! Nah! Couldn’t be!

Convinced that I was seeing things, I got back to business.
I cocked the baseball bat on my shoulder, ready to give any intruder a surprise.
My breath came in short bursts, and I listened intently to the silence –

After checking the doors and windows, I slowly caught my breath.
I opened the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of Gatorade.
Hey… didn’t Santa offer me Gatorade in my dream?

I plopped down on the couch and rested my fuzzy bunny feet on the coffee table.
Looking at the Christmas tree, I became mesmerized by the blinking lights.
My eyes grew heavy, but snapped open, as I became very aware that something was different.

In the corner, partially hidden by the lighted tree, was a brightly wrapped box with a large red bow on top.
I stood up and glanced briefly into the kitchen…
Hey, is that a plate of cookies?

I walked curiously to the kitchen table.
Sure enough, there was a paper plate of cookies wrapped in plastic wrap.

Sticking out from underneath the plate of cookies was an envelope.
Gingerly, I slid the envelope from under the plate.
In thick letters, that could be mistaken for my mom’s writing, was written my name.

“Dear Matt,” the letter inside began,
“It was most wonderful meeting you last year in North Pole.
We kept tabs on you in Montana this year, and although you had knee problems, we were encouraged that you were able to help others have a terrific experience!”

I was frozen with disbelief, but continued reading:
“Here is a plate of chocolate chip cookies. I remember that you were very fond of them.
“I hope you and you family have a most magical Christmas, and your wonderful friends as well!”
It was signed:
“Mrs. Claus”

“Ho-lee shhhh…” I muttered.
I ripped the plastic wrap from the cookies. Unbelievably, they were still warm!!!
I sank my teeth into the delicious treat and turned my attention back to the box in the living room.

I kneeled down next to the box, which was nearly two-feet tall.
“To Matt”, the label on top said,
“From Santa”.

As I moved the box closer to me, I noticed it was nearly weightless.
I sat down cross-legged, smiling like a kid,
And tore at the big red bow and brightly colored paper.

I pulled open the box and eagerly reached inside.
There was a picture.
In the light of the Christmas tree, I recognized the picture from last Christmas Eve.
I smiled, remembering how amazing Christmas seemed last year.

I set down the photo and reached back into the box.
There was another picture, circa mid 1990’s.
Again, I happily relived warm Christmas thoughts.

I reached into the box again and again.
Each time, there was a single photograph,
And each photograph triggered another beautiful Christmas memory.

Near tears now, having gone through Christmas pictures that spanned my entire life,
I again reached into the box.
This time, I pulled out a card.

It read:
“May the happy memories of Christmases past
Fill your pores with the true spirit of Christmas.
Merry Christmas!
Love, Santa”

I hate to admit it, but I cried.
When the tears finally abated, I awoke my sleeping legs.
To my amazement, the photos had disappeared,
But the card remained in my grip.

The clock struck 6am.
I placed the card on the kitchen table next to the cookies and went back to bed,
Hoping to dream about Santa and Mrs. Claus,
So I could thank them for such amazing gifts.



I wish you all the great things in life – not just at Christmas, but always!

A Visit to Santa’s House (in North Pole, Alaska)
Christmas, 2000

It was August 21st.
Standing at an outpost in North Pole, Alaska, I noticed a huge house with a cheerful red door.

I pondered… I wondered… I hoped… and knocked.

A white-haired woman with a child-like smile answered,
Welcoming me with chocolate chip cookies… still warm from the oven.

I stepped inside.
“Hi,” I said, “I’m –“
“Matthew Cummings,” she smiled, “from Michigan.
You’ve come to Alaska with all those other amazing bike riders.
I’ll tell you this, “ she said with a wink,” every one of you will have a fantastic Christmas!!”
She caught herself. “I’m sorry, I am Mrs. Claus. Are you here to see my husband?”
I blushed. “Is he here?”

Mrs. Claus beckoned me down a long candy cane striped hallway.
“Honey!” She yelled, “We have a visitor! One of those nice bicyclists!”
From around a corner, I heard a booming voice.
“Ho! Ho! Ho! How wonderful!”
My palms were suddenly slick with sweat. I was going to meet THE coolest guy on the planet!

And there he was.

He was a hearty man, standing 6 feet tall and weighing 275 pounds.
His bright, wavy white hair, mustache and beard were stunning.
He extended a warm toymaker’s hand.
“How do you do?” He said, beaming.
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t say a word.
“Y-Y-You’re Santa!” I stammered.
Santa howled with laughter, his jelly belly rolling beneath his flannel
(I guess he already knew who he was).

“Would you like something to drink?” Santa asked, offering me a glass of Gatorade.
Numbly, I accepted, unable to take my eyes from him.
“So how do you like Alaska?” he asked, breaking the spellbinding silence.
I slowly came to my senses and smiled.
“I love it, Santa.”
“Nice clothes,” he laughed, commenting on my cycling apparel.
I grinned. Cyclists really do dress funny!

“Santa,” I said, “I’d like to ask a favor.”
He smiled warmly. “Of course.”
“This Christmas, instead of presents, could you give me the insight to provide my friends and family a Christmas writing that lets them know how much I love and appreciate them - not just at Christmastime, but all year long?”

Santa paused and pulled at his beard, seeming to search for the right words.
“Matt,” he finally replied, “they already know.”
He smiled, “How about if I order up some snow for your bike ride here in Alaska, instead?”
It was my turn to laugh. Like it would actually snow in August!

“Well,” I sighed, “I have to go ride my bike now. Thanks for everything, and thanks to Mrs. Claus for the awesome cookies.”
Santa shook my hand, and walked me to the door.
As he patted me on the back, he said, “Tell everyone I said hi, and make sure they know that I’m watching them, so they’d better be good… for goodness sake!”
“Okay, Santa, I will! Merry Christm - “

I turned around.

Santa was gone.

Santa’s house was gone.

In its place,
Laid a partially eaten chocolate chip cookie…
Still warm from the oven.

Christmas Week Blogs...

Years ago, I wrote a Christmas poem and included the poem in each Christmas card I sent out. People loved it, and soon, people were looking forward to my next Christmas poem.

This week, I intended to start my 2005 Lists, but instead decided to share a few Christmas poems from years past. The 2005 lists will be posted next week.

Hope you like the poems!

Have a Merry Christmas!

How Now?

Well, since my last post, I got laid off again. How's that for things that suck?? Five frigging weeks I worked there!

I could bitch my heart out, but I won't. You never know who reads these things...

Anyhow, I wanted to let you know that I am in the development phase of a blog project - Matt's lists of 2005. Starting sometime next week, I will be presenting my "best of" lists for 2005. Will you be on my best dressed list?

I can guarantee you won't. Who am I to come up with a best dressed list?? If it's not KMart's best...

I can't tell you how excited I am that 2005 is nearly over - despite the occasional moments of brilliance, this year has sucked ass.

Despite that, 2005 has offerred interesting opportunities, and it's these that I will be talking about in the near future.

Keep on the lookout! :)

What’s in the bag, dad?

December 7, 1941 – Pearl Harbor - was a day that will live in infamy.

My dad was born 366 days later – on December 8, 1942. If he was still alive today, he’d be 63 years old.

Happy Birthday, Dad.

Since 2000, my life has gotten even crazier than it had been in the previous millenium. I feel that some of my biggest accomplishments and failures have occurred since then, and oftentimes, I wonder what my father would have said and done.

How proud would he have been when I rode across Alaska and Montana? How crushed would he have been with my Hodgkin’s diagnosis?

How disappointed would he have been when I was out of work for a year? How thrilled would he have been when I published my book?

My dad died of a heart attack on March 14, 1991. He was 48 years old.

My dad has been a source of a few of my life goals. The biggest: live life without regret. The second: live to be at least 49.

It’s a shame that most of the time I spent while my dad was alive was struggling to understand myself, struggling to understand my dad and struggling to understand our relationship.

As an adult, I see my friends and brothers relate to their kids, and I understand why parents do things. I failed to achieve that wisdom while my dad was alive.

I miss my dad. Sometimes moreso than others. I do know that he watches out over me – sometimes it’s unquestionable.

And if we simply cease to exist when we die, I don’t want to know. I want to believe that when I think of my dad, or talk to him still, that he’s there listening.

Smiling and nodding his head, happy to see how his son has grown up – and matured.

Dumela!

When I was training for the Montana AIDS Vaccine Ride (MAVR) in 2001, I met Nanky Seoke – a native Botswanan girl, who was going to school at Central Michigan University.

We never actually met face-to-face until we arrived in Montana, but we shared a lot of correspondence (on a ride like the 7-day 575-mile MAVR, you need as much support as possible!).

Through Nanky, I learned about the serious plight of AIDS in her home country. Fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, and entire families were dying. AIDS was (is) a plague in Botswana – one like we’ve never seen in America - and Nanky devoted 2001 to the ride that could help save her fellow countrymen.

During our correspondence, Nanky taught me some African phrases, but the only one I still remember is “dumela” (pronounced “doo-MAY-lah”), which means “Hello”.

Once we got to Montana, we had a “Michigan rider meet and greet” at a local bar, and Nanky and I spent a lot of the evening talking. I was interested in her thick accent and stories or Botswana. I loved it when she told me that it took nearly a month to get acclimated to American food – particularly hamburgers. She said our food tasted terrible! I’d never really thought about it like that before.

Montana was the only time I’d seen Nanky. Ever since, we’ve shared e-mails and an occasional card or note. Nanky had a hard time acclimating to the Michigan weather, and continued her studies at Howard University and Florida State University.

Recently I heard from Nanky again. She was nearly finished with her book on health and recreation. Her goal in life is to open a recreational center in her home village of Mochudi.

She also told me that she was done with her studies and was flying back home to Botswana. She’s leaving this weekend.

Nanky is a driven girl, and I expect one day to receive a flyer for the grand opening of Nanky’s recreation center. And you can bet your ass that if I ever get the chance, I will go there to show my support for this shining star.

What's up?

Last week was quite a week!

First off, I was part of a newspaper article in the Royal Oak Tribune. The article was about the Detroit Thanksgiving day parade. Although I didn’t participate this year, I got a couple of cool quotes in there. It’s been quite a year for my name in print!

So, as I’ve mentioned, I am working on a charity bike ride to raise money for Gilda’s Club. On Monday, I met with 9-time Tour de France rider and two-time Olympian Frankie Andreu to ask for his participation.

I’m telling you, I was shaking like a leaf! I am a fan of Frankie’s, and he is the first former professional bike rider I’ve ever met. I felt like a teenage girl meeting David Cassidy or Donny Osmond (showing my age there!)!

I’ve got this amazing picture of Frankie leading the Tour de France peloton on the streets of Champs Elysees, and was fortunate to have him sign it for me. He left a spot next to his for Lance Armstrong’s signature… “You never know!” he said…

Well, as a result of meeting Frankie, I have A LOT of work to do for this ride. Have I started? No…

So Monday night, Sheryl and I went to a classic rock art VIP party sponsored by one of the local radio stations. We got in because I am a member of the Gilda’s Club ad-hoc committee, and some of the profits from the art sales are going to Gilda’s Club. It was a cool gig. There was food, refreshments, and a live performance by Mark Farner of Grand Funk Railroad. Sweet!

On Thanksgiving Day, Sheryl and I took her nephew to the parade, which was AMAZINGLY COLD! Fortunately, her four-year-old nephew did not want to stay long.

So we went to Eastern Market to try and grab some food before I had to get to the Lions game. We ended up at McDonald’s. After eating, I needed to get going, so we try to leave and…

We were locked inside.

Apparently, Detroit mayor Kwame Kilpatrick and his posse needed some breakfast. They were ordering at the counter when we tried to leave, but some people were trying to get in, and somebody didn’t think they should – with the mayor in there and all…

So we eventually got out, and Sheryl drove me to Ford Field to meet up with my sister and brother in law and his daughter for the football game.

We got into the game just before kickoff. It was my first time there, and unfortunately, I didn’t have time to meander about to check out the stadium. I loved what I saw, though. It’s a very cool venue!

Well, after the suckass game, I was dropped off at home, where I quickly changed and drove to Sheryl’s. We spent the rest of the night visiting with family.

Friday night, I played in a dart tournament. By the time I left, it had been snowing pretty well, and the streets were slick. I realized this when I went into a turn a bit too fast, and my car spun around 180 degrees.

Fortunately, there weren’t any cars in the immediate area. When I was younger, I used to take my mom’s rear wheel drive Mustang into a church parking lot after the first snow and do donuts, practicing my winter driving.

All that practice came in handy Friday night. I threw the car into reverse, finishing the turn backards, and put the car back into drive, heading back home in the correct direction.

So...

Anyone wanna help plan a charity bike ride?

Anyone wanna be a sponsor?

Oy!

Toodles for now!

Thanks for the...

Sorry it's taken so long for me to blog again, I am trying to get into the routine of working again. It's a wonderful thing, that's for sure!

If you recall, I spent a lot of time bitching about being out of work. Well, what have I got to bitch about now? The answer is simple, really - nothing.

So life for me right now is amazing. I can't even say how amazing it is, because tonight's topic isn't so much about me - it's about my history. It's about my mom. It's about my year. It's about posterity.

Tonight I spent some good time with my mom. We did our Sunday football thang, which is always good. But we talked, too.

One of the things we talked about was history. My mom is upset that no one remembers Thanksgiving anymore. And I know exactly what she means.

I read an article somewhere saying that Wal-Mart is targeting shoppers earlier this year for Christmas. Yep, the 3.2 bazillion dollars that they made last year at Christmas time was less than the 3.4 bazillion that everyone else (Costco, Meijer, English Gardens, etc) made COMBINED...

So what happens after Halloween?

Santa pops up everywhere.

Now, I understand that here in Michigan, our weather has been incredibly mild, and we should be taking advantage of the weather in order to put up our Christmas lights... that I do understand.

But what about Thanksgiving?

I was raised believing that Thanksgiving was about family. What is more wholesome... more American, than having the family sitting at the table sharing dinner, conversation, respect... and thanks?

I loved going to my Grandmother's (and later, my mother's) house on Thanksgiving. We always had an amazing dinner... and the pies! Lordy!

But something I never appreciated until I got older and things changed was the chance to be with family.

See, at Grandma's, we had her and her sister - auntie Aggie - my aunt Betty, my uncle Ray, my cousins and our family.

After the amazing dinner, we would play cards or watch television. I think I learned how to play poker on Thanksgiving.

And now that I am 39 years old, with no family of my own, I really miss my grandma and auntie Aggie at Thanksgiving. I miss the closeness of family, even though I have spent nearly every single Thanksgiving of my life with my mother... I miss screwing around with my cousins.

Maybe MY Thanksgivings were special... I don't know. I don't know what anyone else does for Thanksgiving.

I do know now that we need to hold on to our memories. Our memories become history if told to the right people.

This week, I was interviewed about participating in the Detroit Thanksgiving Day parade by the Royal Oak Tribune. One of the things I was asked was why I wanted to be in the parade. My answer was that as a kid, I remember going to the parade, and thinking that the people in the parade were larger than life - something like heroes - and I wanted to be that for today's kids.

So I suppose that the moral of this blog is to beseech anyone reading - take complete advantage of this Thanksgiving. Give thanks for your family. Give thanks for the good memories. Give thanks for the opportunity to make today and tomorrow a better day than today.

Don't forget Thanksgiving. Don't let it be a speed bump on the way to Christmas.

Oui Oui Oui

For 24 years of my life, kids scared the hell out of me.

Ever since I was 11 years old and had my nose bitten off by the family dog, I hated looking at and talking to kids.

Until I got cancer at 35 years old. Then that stuff got a lot less important.

I never really felt the urge to have kids - and this is briefly documented in my book - but there are currently a handful of kids I just love to death. Of them, there is Collin, Delaney, Nick, Lilly and Sara.

This weekend, I attended birthday parties for Nick and Sara (all five of those kids have birthdays between October 1 and December 23).

Nick is at the age where he says everything on his mind - not realizing that some things you say can hurt other peoples' feelings. And this is mostly why I hated dealing with kids prior to my cancer diagnosis.

And no matter how close I get to the kids, sooner or later, they will ask or say something about my nose.

When Collin, my oldest nephew, was old enough to ask me, I had already prepared a story.

In the story, I was in a fight with members of the Japanese Dioge (D-O-G) Clan. I told him a story of a great battle where I was knocked down over and over again, and finally one of the Dioges struck my face with his sword made of teeth. He knocked off my nose, but I eventually succeeded in defeating them.

As I got older, however, the telling of stories became more of a fun thing, rather than dealing with the serious question. As such, I just learned to deal with it and tell the truth - and usually, the kids are fine with whatever I tell them. And usually, they get bored with my answer before I even finish.

Realizing all of this - in addition to realizing that nearly everything in life is small - has helped me love these kids as much as they have come to love me.

I don't know how I would be as a dad, but I do know that I love being an uncle. "Cool Uncle Matt" - that's me, and that's what I strive to be. Even Sara, who is in her teenage years - thinks I'm cool, and will talk to me as long as parental units aren't around.

Even better than being the cool uncle, though, is that I will always know a different side of these kids. We will always treat each other as people, with respect. Their parents will never know them like that.

I, too, have a couple relationships like that with aunts and uncles... and I think that's pretty damn cool.

Who are you?

One of the things I love about life is seeing how things work out. How things change. How things evolve.

People too.

This past Friday, we played against some "old-timers" who used to constantly kick our ass. One man in particular used to say stuff that got into my head. He always intimidated me.

This guy has been in the league for easily 20 years, so I always thought he had something on me... knew something I didn't know.

Well, all he knew was how to get into my head!

Granted, he is a good player, but I have had a chance to improve my game and develop strategies for my dart game.

One such thing is focus. For the most part, I have been able to block out what people say while I'm throwing. One of the girls on my team is known to talk to us while we are throwing, and in the last year or two, I think it has bummed her out that she's been getting no response. Thing is, I hear her talking, but don't know what she's saying.

It's the same thing with this guy we played Friday. Not to mention that I have gotten to know him on a personal level as well, so I realize what he is doing while talking to me, and I can appreciate it completely.

It's a pretty cool thing when you finally come to understand something like that. You feel like you can use it to your advantage... and you can bet your ass I'm gonna try! :)

For what it's worth, we beat the "old-timers" 11 games to 4... for the second time this season.

It's amazing what a job will do for your well being...

I have completed two days of my new job, and I cannot even tell you how great it feels to be back in the work force. I love the idea of getting back into a routine, and forcing myself to take better care of myself.

See, my work clothes - which I hadn't worn in a year - got really, really tight. Looks like unemployment helped Matt gain some weight (and Matt didn't need any help!).

So, once I get back into a routine, I can incorporate my training rides and workouts, and I can't wait!

This all comes at a good time - with the holidaze coming up, and too much good food being available...

I'm still a few weeks away from my first paycheck, but I know it's coming, and it feels damn good. I had to keep reminding myself yesterday to stick with my grocery list while shopping, as I'm still so, so broke! The caviar and champagne will have to wait for 8 months or so, but that's fine... I really don't like caviar anyway!

Random comment: This morning, while I was eating breakfast, I turned on the Imus radio show on TV. Imus was talking to Kurt Vonnegut, Jr., who is one of my favorite writers. Vonnegut must be in his 80s, but man, what a wonderful speaker as well! He was talking about how he was one of the first Saab dealers in America. He spoke of the early Saabs as "colorful Easter eggs". The man is fricking brilliant!

Anyhow, that's all about me for now...
Blog ya later!

I'll sleep when I'm dead...

With tomorrow being my first day of work in a year, I have been taking advantage of naps and getting up late. Well, I have for a year now, in fact! :)

Logic says that I should have spent the last week getting up earlier and avoid naps in order to assimilate to the work schedule easier. Did I?

No freaking way!

This last layoff totally screwed my future. I will never be able to afford retirement, and career-wise, it hurt me bad.

So why shouldn't I take advantage of my last week off?

Tomorrow, I will get up at 6:30am and groggily prepare for work. During the course of the day I will get my first and second winds. At 5pm or so, I will probably come home, and take a nap if I can get it in. Then I head off to bartend for Monday Night Football.

People tell me I'll be tired. Yeah. So?

I might feel like crap. I might feel bad. But I might not. Maybe the naps I've been taking for the last 367 days will have given me super non-drowsy powers.

I gotta find out for myself.

And if nothing else, like Warren Zevon sang: "I'll sleep when I'm dead."

Whoo-hoo! Bring on the work week! :)

When is it time to stand up and fight?

I spent a good portion of today watching the Ultimate Fighter on Spike TV. Holy smokes, there was some sweet ass-kicking, blood-spitting, bone-crunching action! Yep, the testosterone got pumping, just like it will tomorrow with football.

Personally, however, I haven't had a fist fight since my brothers and I were kids. It's worked out fine for me - considering I have nightmares about being in fights and my punches come off in painfully slow motion and ALWAYS miss their mark. These dreams really don't give me much confidence in my fighting abilities...

Roger Waters sings in his song "Home":

"When the cowboys and Arabs draw down
On each other at noon
In the cool dusty air of the city boardroom
Will you stand by a passive spectator
Of the market dictators
Will you discreetly withdraw
With your ear pressed to the boardroom door
Will you hear when the lion within you roars
Will you take to the hills...
Will you stand for it..."

So when is it time to fight?

A friend of mine is fighting city hall. The zoning in her neighborhood is being changed from residential to commercial. The bottom line being that once a business moves into a building - once a house is razed to become a shop - the property can never go back to a residence.

This friend of mine is studying previous city council moves and resolutions to understand her best plan of attack. She is also informing her neighbors and trying to get them involved as well.

These things will help if you abide by Sun Tzu's "The Art of War". Mr. Tzu believes in some essentials for victory, including:

* He will win who knows when to fight and when not to fight.
* He will win who knows how to handle both superior and inferior forces.
* He will win whose army is animated by the same spirit throughout all its ranks.
* He will win who, prepared himself, waits to take the enemy unprepared.

In addition, I think that if you're going to fight, you need to remain calm under pressure. From what I understand about it, during military training, soldiers are taught this through repetition. Repetition of essential tasks and repetition of decision-making in high stress situations. You know, like repetition.

I myself am working on remaining calm under pressure. It's a necessary and essential skill for playing darts.

Many years ago, my brother Van asked me to complete a psychological questionnaire about him for one of his clases. In this questionnaire, I remember making the statement that I thought Van was too even-keeled. That perhaps he would find life a much richer experience if he allowed himself to get excited (or perhaps even depressed) a little more often.

And oddly enough, I think of that every time I request Dr. Ron Bacardi to help me medicate myself while playing darts. See, if I get nervous or excited, then my throwing stroke gets tight, and I lose control over my dart (dang, how's that for a potential double entendre?!). But if I am able to suppress that tension, then I can throw closer to my capabilities.

Of course, repetition through practice would likely help that, too.

So what makes it the right time to fight? What would make you roll up your sleeves and and throw a haymaker at someone's noggin?

Ironically, it could be argued that passion is the fuel of war. Yet isn't passion also the fuel of love?