Anniversary

Is it coincidence that on the same day Sheryl and I celebrated our 5 year anniversary, I was given the cleanest bill of health that I've had my entire adult life?

I doubt it.

I am so fortunate, so blessed, and so incredibly lucky to have found the woman who definitely makes me a better person. I've had happy memories all week of our great Maine elopement adventure, and have been inundated with smiles caused by those memories.

Sheryl, thank you for looking past my downfalls and gracing me with your daily love. I live for the smile on your face - and in your eyes.

I love you, my not drunken punkin.

The tall tale of Freidrich Steedrick -

A man about the town, a regular clown
with whisky and rum
He'd stick out his thumb and ask "where ya from?"
If you didn't answer fast, he'd look about and cast
His gaze upon someone else.
He'd tell you his dreams
of wine and ice cream
and run on with thoughts like a stream.
He was a scream.
And then one day the dope
took a rope
Tied to his telescope.
The crazy loon lassoed the moon -
It was over too soon.
When the moon pulled the tide
He shouted and cried...
The tick tock of the clock gave way
To the shock of the day
Learning he'd been pulled away -
Dragged like a tuna 'round the dark side of luna,
Given the chance to romance perhaps,
The people of Mars, who eat candy bars.
For he's no longer a man about town
I have found
That he get his applause most
From the cosmos
and he drinks white russians from a straw...
along the milky way.

So, Crates, What's on Yer Mind?

In between taking the PMP exam and the start of my next class (which is now in its 3rd week), I have been cramming in a lot of personal reading. This has been made easier with the addition of going to the YMCA and riding for an hour while reading on the Nook (Awesome idea, Sue!).

One book I read was "Win Forever", by Pete Carroll. It wasn't a super spiritual book for me, but it talked about having a philosophy, and challenged its readers to develop their own philosophy - and to try and put it in 25 words or less.

So with Sheryl out of town this weekend, I decided to spend some time with my thoughts, and develop my philosophy. I felt that it is important for me to have a philosophy to keep me focused as I emerge from the major disappointments I've had relatively recently.

And in truth, it was much easier to develop my 25-word-or-less philosophy than I expected. Granted, I reserve the right to change it, tweak it, and manipulate it to my benefit, but here is what I've come up with:

"Do your absolute best every day. Take advantage of every opportunity, and focus on what is most important."

Using this as a guideline, I can then ascertain what I feel are my priorities. And these, I suspect, will change often. But generally, they will include mine and Sheryl's future - including my health, and keeping physically and mentally active - and balancing work, social, spiritual, and self.

Do you have a philosophy? Is it important for you to have one?

Roll On

This weekend, I celebrated the 10 year anniversary of my Hodgkin's diagnosis with my incredible wife.

Keeping it a secret until the last minute, she took me to a night in Saugatuck, MI.

On the drive out, despite the fact that both of us hate shopping, we spent a little time at the outlet mall in Howell. Armed with new Skecher shoes, we rolled on to Saugatuck, where we stayed at the Twin Gables Inn - a very nice historic B&B. Then, we went to "the event" - a pre-release party for Fenn Valley wines, in Fennville.

The six wines will be released in 2012, but the winery made it available for tasting to a few of their closest friends (and us!). The wines were paired with original food pairings for a six-course meal.

It was amazing!

We started with wine and cheese, then sat down to a brie and apple tartlet, a crab cake, a salad, salmon, beef, and dessert.

Sheryl and I had an absolute blast. We had good conversation with our tablemates, and after six courses and six wines,  we bought some wine, said our goodnights to our tablemates, then came back to the Inn, and chatted while I had a nightcap.

The topper was the drive there and back, where we found we had carved some time out of our lives to talk in detail about some of the things that have been going on lately. It was a nice change of pace beyond the daily catching up with what's happening at work before we have to go to bed.

It was an extremely rewarding weekend, and I cannot thank my wife enough.

10 years ago, I would have never believed you if you had told me I'd have it this good. I am so fortunate.

Moment of Clarity

Someone once told me that all you need in life is Chinese philosophy and a little VO2 max.

I am reminded of this on March 20, 2012. It was 80 degrees out today, so I brought out my beloved Moyo to take a ride. The first bike ride of the year. Ahhhh...

On a whim last night, I pulled out my ragged copy of "Siddhartha". After the last few weeks, I felt like I needed to be reminded of the tale that held me entranced in my college years - I needed to look at life a different way, I needed a mental whack in the noodle.

10 miles into my 13 mile ride, I realized that I had not had a significant thought in the previous 45 minutes. That's the magic of cycling - it changes the way you think. You forget about TPS reports, and work issues. Instead, you worry about basic survival skills - is that car going to stop at the light, or will it turn and hit me? POTHOLE!! Huff-puff, huff-puff, huff-puff.

Sometimes you see things and they don't register right away - was that guy wearing a purple felt hat??

And yet at mile 10, I realized that 10 miles had gone by, and I hardly remembered it.

And I thought back to when I first ran across the statement - all you need in life is Chinese philosophy and a little VO2 max.

Siddhartha is actually Indian philosophy - as told by a translator of Swiss German. Pedalling 14 mph over the course of 10 miles isn't necessarily VO2 max.

But realizing that you've spent the last 45 minutes in Nirvana...

Priceless.

Gutpunch

Okay, I know this is going to sound like I'm whining, but I need to talk this through with me. Grab a glass of your favorite beverage and hang out and listen. But shhhh, let me talk, 'kay?

Things have been strange in my life lately - and not in the way that I like. Yes, all of the amazing things in my life are there - like my wife, my health, my family - but I've taken a couple of huge gutpunches lately, and me no likey.

Back in September, my boss quit. Upper management decided to let the inmates run the prison, and see what happened. Well, as a result, a core of us really formed a strong team. All but three of us started moving together in a positive direction, and I was happy to have a chance to spread my wings a little.

Last month, upper management decided that we needed a ring leader. And with some reservation, I threw my hat in the ring. I wasn't sure how much I'd enjoy the role, but 3/4 of my team were behind me, and were willing to follow where I led them. I was honored and flattered how they enthusiastically supported me.

So when management told me that they went with the other candidate, I felt like I was kicked in the nuts.

I expressed myself to my boss, who truly understood where I was coming from. "Congratulations!", I told him, "You picked a fine manager. Too bad you didn't pick the leader!"

Oh happy daze.

A day later, the team was told about the decision. They all felt like they were kicked in the nuts (and half of them are women!).

I'd be lying if'n I told you that I have gotten past being bitter. After all, management didn't seem to realize who everyone would run to after the announcement. And yep, I had to be the bigger person, and convince everyone that we had to give the person chosen a fair shake.

Got any salt to rub into that gaping hole in your belly, Matt?

So I focused my energies on school. I was going to pass the Project Management Professional (PMP) exam. I was gonna become accredited, and make my own rules!

And I studied. Shhee-it, I studied hard. My so-called free time was taken up with studying. I studied harder than I ever did in high school, or getting my bachelor's degree.

My exam date was March 13 - the day before the anniversary of my dad's passing - I was aligning stars to give me the best possible chance to pass.

On March 12, I went to bed, wanting to get a good nights' sleep ahead of the 7:30 am exam.

Hours later, I was still awake.

As the sun tinted the Eastern sky, I was doing tai chi - trying to jumpstart my head after a night of less than 30 minutes of sleep.

I went to take the exam, and found that it wasn't particularly difficult. Three hours, fifty-nine minutes and ten seconds into the four hour exam, I submitted my answers - praying that I got enough of them right - hell, even if I passed by the skin of my teeth! ...

Sure enough, I was shocked with the result - FAIL.

It felt like I sat there for an hour, staring at the screen in shock and awe and general disbelief.

Hello, gutpunch, meet my nards... again!

I was devastated. Again.

Sheryl and I kept the dinner reservation we had to "celebrate", and had an amazing dinner.

When we got home, I crawled into bed - 7:30pm. I slept til nearly 5am.

Well, I have lessons to learn here, and I think I'm going to take my time in learning them.

Awesomely, my team at work was very supportive (I'm sure you can imagine how amazingly supportive Sheryl was, so I won't even rave about her!). Yep, management picked a manager, not a leader.

Will I take the exam again? Everyone seems to want to know. Well, not really... everyone seems to ASSUME that I will take the exam again. Right now, I don't wanna.

But while I take some down time, and learn my lessons a little bit, I'm sure the need to pass that damned exam will become overwhelming - and yes, I will probably take the exam again.

In the meantime, though, I want to whine and pout a little - and you should let me do that because you can do something I can't - cry.

I think the craziest thing for me to get over is that I don't remember ever getting gutpunched like that twice in a row.

In the meantime, I realize that I don't have a lot of time to feel sorry for myself - in nine days, I will be recognizing the 10th anniversary of my Hodgkin's diagnosis.

Hello, nards, heal up. Get over it. There are worse things in life.

(I miss you, Dad!)

If I've learned anything by going to school this past year or so, it's that I've still got a lot to learn.

January 23 is my angel's birthday.
I love her so much. Every thought of her warms me.
I have lived most of my life without her, but I cannot imagine being without her for even a single day.
I've never had someone love me like she does,
And that is pretty special.
I don't do all the right things, say all the right things, and still need to get over selfish tendencies,
But she still adores me.
And I do her.

I've got a lot to learn in life.
But one thing I know is that my wife is more special than words can say.
And I spend most of my time trying to make sure she's happy.
She's an angel, and proves it daily -
Who in their right mind wants an unhappy angel??

Sheryl, I wish you the happiest of birthdays.
I hope we live another 45 years in the bliss that we share.
Your smile makes me melt. It makes me know that all is right in the world.
The twinkle in your eyes fills my soul with that much more hope.

I love you so much, that the word hasn't even been invented that expresses what you mean to me.
I love our story, I love the trip that we're on, and I love that we're sharing it together.
Happy birthday, sweetheart.
I love you.

The Spirit Before Christmas

So last night, Sheryl and I drove out to a bar called "Wildwood" at 21 Mile and Hayes - a 45 minute drive for us - to see Coldwater - a band that one of Sheryl's former patients plays in.

I had worked all day, and once I got home, we worked on Christmas stuff for hours. I was tired, and would have been more than happy to pack it in for the night, but the Fates didn't allow that.

When we got to the bar, we could hear the band from outside. I don't like to be overwhelmed by the music (that I don't choose! :)), so my mood was a little spoiled.

When we got in, Sheryl and I sat at the bar. We ordered drinks, and started a tab. We played Keno for most of the night, and perhaps ended up losing $5. Worthwhile for an evening of playing, I think.

During the band break - once we were able to hear each other - the bartender introduced himself from the other side of the bar. "Bob" was his name.

So Bob was a little older than us, and he sure seemed like he was having fun. He was experimenting with drink concoctions - a red "SweetTart" drink and a green "SweetTart" drink. Hmmmm... Christmas colors.

Well part of Bob's experiment was to include those of us at the bar in the taste test. We drank the shots and provided our input (the green one was really good - the red one... not so much). We got a little of Bob's story, too.

Bob had been a project engineer, and a few years ago, he was "downsized". So on a whim, he decided to go to bartender school. One night, he wandered into the Wildwood, and he struck up a conversation with the owner. He told the owner that he had just finished bartender school, and if the owner ever needed any help, give him a call. A couple weeks later, the owner called him and asked him to work.

Bob loved bartending. He worked hard to help the bar succeed. But after a while, he decided to get a "big boy's job", and he went back to work as a project engineer.

So all was well and good, and the owner of the Wildwood called Bob again. He needed Bob to work part-time if he could swing it. So Bob took on Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays.

Well, I told Bob that I will be taking the PMP exam (Project Management Professional) in March, and asked where he had worked.

"Oh," he said, "just some machine tool companies. Blah, blah, Cross, Lamb..."

Huh?? Cross and Lamb??

"Hey," I said, "my Dad worked at both Cross and Lamb!"

"Really? What's his name?"

"Well, he died in '91..."

"What was his name?"

"Jim Cummings."

"Yeah! Jim was a good friend of mine! I knew him well. He was in a car accident the day before he died."

"Ummm, yeah," I said, chills spreading over my body. "I was 25 when he died."

"I was at his funeral. Great guy."

"Wow."

"Yeah. You know, my son's name was Matt."

Chills again.

"He passed away when he was 25."

!!!

"I'm going to make us a special shot in a couple of minutes," he said. "We'll have a toast."

"Absolutely, Bob," I said.

Coldwater started rocking the house again. I think some glasses were rattling.

Bob made us a shot, and we toasted Jim and Matt.

The set was short since the bar stopped serving at midnight. After we could hear again, Bob said, "I've been dreaming a lot about Matt lately. His birthday is next month."

My dad's was this month.

We all agreed that we had been meant to be there, and I distinctly felt that Bob and I were both moved by the spirits.

Christmas spirits, perhaps?

When we left, Bob came from behind the bar. He hugged Sheryl, and hugged me. It was a strong hug. I told him, "Everything is the way it's supposed to be. Everything happens for a reason."

We parted ways, and my mind was completely blown. It's still blown.

Did we have a visit last night from the ghosts of Christmas past? Or simply the spirit of Christmas shouting above the music:

Merry Christmas to all... and to all a good night?

Of Thanks and Thunder

On Thanksgiving Eve, 1982, I was working hard at Olga's Kitchen at Lakeside Mall - my first job.

After work, Duane - my step-dad - came to pick me up. I was tired, and didn't realize how tipsy he was until I looked back on it years later. As it was, I laughed at him when he completely passed our house, and had to circle around the block to find it again.

Back in those days, my Grandma Rodgers - a truly strong and amazing woman in her own right - came and spent the night before Thanksgiving at our house to help my mom cook and prepare for the Thanksgiving feast.

On this particular night, I laid down on my bed, the room dark - lit only by the light of my stereo receiver - and began listening to Black Sabbath's "Paranoid" album from front to back - the first time I'd ever heard the entire album.

Mesmerized by the dark and gloomy music, I closed my eyes and relaxed, inhaling the amazing aromas of tomorrow's sure-to-be tasty banquet made for giving thanks.

I was warm, I was comforted, I was home, and had no worries in the world.

And ever since that night when all of my senses vibrated as one for one amazing moment, I have made it a habit...

To listen to Black Sabbath's "Paranoid" album from first note to final growl, and think happily about that moment all those years ago - and how important my grandmother was to me.

Yes, I listen to Black Sabbath and think of my grandmother at Thanksgiving.

And I am proud of it!

Number 9, Number 9, Number 9...

The other day, I saw my oncologist again. Yearly checkup. Year 9.

And although everything is fine, I always get nervous seeing him.
And although I love the man, I always get nervous seeing him.

And although everything is fine, seeing him snaps me back to reality. About what is important, and what isn't.

I get introspective when I see my oncologist. Time heals all wounds, but some things change your life forever. The bad, and the good, and sometimes even the indifferent.

My doc made an important point the other day. He said that for the first time in history, we - as a society - have more cancer survivors than those with malignancies. Now, we need to understand the long term effects of the treatments that have allowed for so many survivors.

And though I am tickled to be one of those survivors, I need to be cognizant of potential issues. Add my chick disease - Sjogren's - on top of that, and there is more to be aware of down the road.

March will be 10 years since my original diagnosis. And although my oncologist keeps reminding me that I've got things I need to keep an eye out for, a man has gotta live his life. A man has got to make the most of the time he has ahead of him. And although there are things that we may have to worry about as a result of being a survivor, there are things we need to worry about being alive.

Why do we look both ways before crossing the street? Why do I need to get yearly CT scans?

If we have a lesson to learn, it must be that we have to live life to its fullest.

Oh My Stars and Garters!

One of my favorite childhood comic book characters - The Beast - once sang a song that I thought of so many times this year:

"Take me out to the ballgame, buy me a whole bunch of beer..."

Tonight, the baseball season ended 10 days too early for the Detroit Tigers. That said, I actually expected them to lose the other night. But they gave me - and the city of Detroit - hope.

And what more could you ask from these guys?

Sheryl is the reason for my renewed love of the game of baseball. It was in appreciation of her, mostly, but also in appreciation of the game, that I took Sheryl to Tigerfest back in January for her birthday.

God, the smile on her face... turns me to Jell-o every time I remember it.

This year, instead of going to Cooperstown for our anniversary, we bought a 28-game package.

We shivered through April and May games. But we saw Justin Verlander's first game at home after his no hitter in Toronto, and I happened to capture it in a photo - the Cleveland Indians were no-hit into 8 innings.

We enjoyed the summer warmth in late June, and grabbed a couple of batting practice balls during a game with the Twins.

Speaking of the Twins, we were at Delmon Young's first game as a Tiger - against the Twins. And, well, we were also at Jim Thome's 600th home run night. Same game?

Oh boy, we were at WAY TOO MANY of Brad Penny's SLLLLOOOOWWWLLLYY pitched games!

We attended Christmas in July with one of my college roommates, and I attended a May Yankees game with my other college roommate - who reminded me that his first game ever - in the early to mid 1970s - was Tigers v. Yankees at Tiger Stadium. How cool is that?

A few weeks after Phil Coke twisted his ankle and was out of the lineup, I was able to ask him how the ankle felt: "Good," he said, "Real good!" Sheryl got his autograph, and a few others after standing eye to eye with Magglio Ordonez, with nothing to be signed and nothing to sign it with. One of many, many laughs I had with my amazing wife at CoPa this year.

Sheryl went to her first opening day this year, and I was thrilled to be her date (despite the cold!). And a couple of short weeks ago, both of us - with my mom and Bill - went to our first playoff game. We had tickets to both game 7 of the ALCS (which was never going to happen at CoPa), and game 3 of the World Series... which was scheduled for next Saturday.

We took Sheryl's nephew, my nephew, and niece to games this summer, and I went to a game with my team at work.

Wow. Every game has a story!

Of the most memorable games this year was the one where we won the 50/50 raffle. We were blessed to win, and to be able to share our winnings with the CATCH, CLF, Gilda's Club, The Lake House, and Capuchin Soup Kitchen charities.

Wow, we had a blast this year!

Tonight, I saw Jim Leyland's post-game press conference. This season, people either loved or hated Jim. I understood all but one of his decisions - and that decision was Delmon Young's appearance in the post-season after he had hurt his oblique, and went 0-5 the game before.

But no matter how you felt about Leyland, you have to admit that he's a classy guy. And I will step up and admit that I am definitely on his side.

So to all the great memories of the season, and the hope and pride they gave the city of Detroit, I just want to say: Bless you boys... here comes winter, with the promise of another spring...

I was looking back...

I've caught up with my schoolwork, I've cooked dinner and washed dishes, I'm cranking some Frank Zappa (Live in New York), and I'm feeling a little nostalgic.

Nostalgic enough to blog, apparently...

I was thinking about fall. Here it comes, baby. 10 days away.

I always get a case of the blues come September. I like to think it's because September reminds me of Oktoberfest. And I'm sad that once again, I'm not going to Munich.

But that's not true.

I'm always sad to see summer go away. I'm thrilled that football is back, but summer is leaving. What did I accomplish this summer?

Well, I drank some really good wines. And this year was totally a Detroit Tigers summer. We went to 20 or so games at CoPa. We went to North Carolina and saw the Durham Bulls and Charlotte Knights play on yet another unbelievable vacation.

And I was a reading fool - getting through all but two of the books on my list from LAST year - before starting school again on September 1st.

I rode, too. But not nearly as much as I have in the past. Because I now work in Detroit, I wasn't able to bike commute. That was sad. I realized, too, how much I really, really, really missed multi-day rides. And it makes me even sadder to know that I may never ride another one.

Sheryl and I went to see Steely Dan at Fox Theatre, which was one of the coolest shows I've ever seen. I think the only thing missing was being outdoors and drinking some sweet summer cocktails.

But you all know that I am constantly looking forward. I need something to look forward to. Goals to work towards...

This fall and winter will be full of studying and swim classes. Not a lot of variety, perhaps, but what else are you going to do during the winter in Michigan? Ugh, I hate cold weather...

By next summer, I should have my PMP certification and associate Master's certificate. I should be healthier than I am now, and busy planning the next thing.

This weekend, I'm gonna look for some good, golden, cloudy Weissbier, and chase that Oktoberfest monkey out of my head. Hopefully Sheryl and I will get some good miles in our legs - whether Daisy is  shaking her tail at Moyo or Shtiya - and we'll hear some tunes and drink some vodka at the Ferndale DIY fair.

Monday, I'll rocks my ass off with the Foo Fighters.

Hell, who's got time to get nostalgic?

What Is "The Goal"?

I've been on a reading tear lately. After taking a year to finish my Winston Churchill book, I've ripped through a couple of business books and a personal growth book.

The business book that I'm finishing now is called "The Goal".

The book has really captivated my thought processes, as I find myself looking at work problems differently.

Tonight I was thinking about how this would be an incredible book to discuss with my step-dad, Duane.

Duane was a through and through assembly plant guy. Although my dad and I would have had an interesting conversation about "The Goal", I think the discussions I'd have with Duane would be more fulfilling.

Looking at "The Goal", and my job, I wonder sometimes what the hell I am doing at my company. I still feel that I am there for a greater good, but I am really starting to wonder if it's got anything to do with the job itself. Is it possible that I am supposed to be there to impact people on a personal level, and not to improve the work that we do?

All I know is that I have really enjoyed learning all of the things I've been learning - from the alternative energy class, to economics, to proposal writing, to the beginnings of WWII... from all that I've learned about myself, and everything else...

It's been good stuff.

I simply wish that I could share it with the influential men in my life - Duane, Jim, and George. Let's meet for coffee in my dreams.

A few years ago, I took Sheryl to Cleveland for her birthday. Yeah, it sounds like more of a slap on the wrist than a present, but we had a really nice time, and I was thrilled to do something nice for her.

We spent one day with a dear friends of Sheryl's, and on the next day, we decided to check out the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame before heading home.

I personally loved the hall of fame. There were some amazing exhibits, and approximately halfway through, there were some mini movie theaters, which showed classic rock and roll films on loop. Sheryl and I relaxed a bit while watching "The Concert for Bangladesh" - which was possibly George Harrison's first major activity after the breakup of the Beatles.

I remember watching the film, thinking how magical that moment was - I had only heard of this recording and this movie, I had never expected to have seen it with my own eyes. And at the freaking hall of fame of all places!

Today, Sheryl and I had a great night at the Detroit Tigers baseball game. Comerica Park - where the Tigers play - recently hosted Paul McCartney's "On the Run" tour.

When I got home tonight, I went on Itunes to download a song I heard at the game - Muse's "Uprising".

And lo and behold, right when I opened Itunes, there was the 40th Anniversary edition of George Harrison's Concert for Bangladesh.

Yes, I downloaded it.

And as I listen to it right now, I think of the random thoughts that all seem to mesh together. And I think of all the amazing music that the Beatles released together and on their own.

Who could possibly compare?

40 years, George. You had your head and heart in the right place. You did some amazing things with your life, and you used your fame for the powers of good.

There is so much more out there in the world, and we all have something to contribute.

Inspirational Dirty Work (You Crazy Showbiz Kids!)

Tonight, we went to see Steely Dan at the Fox Theater. WOW, what a great show!

Obviously, they couldn't play ALL of their greatest hits, but with a setlist that included Aja, Black Cow, Hey Nineteen, Boddhisatva, Showbiz Kids, Dirty Work, Your Gold Teeth, My Old School, Reelin' in the Years, Josie, and Peg... how could you go wrong?

The songwriting that these guys come up with is inspirational. I found myself wanting to be in their stories - a part of their songs.

And wanting to write like them.

What a great (and refreshing) evening. There aren't a lot of bands that Sheryl and I can appreciate together, but Steely Dan is one of them.

Wow.
Wow!

Carolina on my mind

Despite getting land-locked in Tennessee, today we managed to get home from our trip to North Carolina.

It was an extremely productive week. We made some new friends who can actually help us make our trip down South, and we scoped out potential new homes.

While we were at it, we watched some minor league ball, and visited with family. We took a few tours, and  relaxed... believe it or not.

We've seen the prize, now we need to keep our eyes on it.

Are you ready to rock?

Beware the Ides of July... the time of year when the doping controls eliminate 10% of the Tour de France riders before a pedal is pushed "in anger".

Yes, the Ides of July. Time for Andy Schleck to step up and earn the top spot on the podium - I'm tired of seeing that rat Contador win!

I'm ready for the Ides of July - when Spartacus raises his arms in victory and pulls on the yellow tunic.

Dopers be damned!

Hello Andy? It's me again.
I need a mind-blowing creative experience.
You know my number.
Later!

45 (Revolutions per Minute)

"...Bells are chiming and tears are falling
It creeps up on you without warning, 45..."
- Elvis Costello, "45"

In June 1982, I went to my first concert: Blue Oyster Cult, with Aldo Nova opening.
To my frenzied 16 year old mind, it was a Dionysian orgy of guitars, drums, lights, and fun, fun, fun.
The next day, I walked my ass to driver's training - the 6-10am course.

In February 1998, I remember my step-dad (and overall wonderful man) announce "Today is the 40th anniversary of my 21st birthday".
And we rousingly toasted his health.

In October 2002, I celebrated the end of chemotherapy and radiation treatments at home with my mom, my aunt, and my uncle, drinking beer and watching the Red Wings on TV.
That day was my life - day zero.

Not being a parent, I found myself wondering tonight if by my celebrating my birthday, my mother actually celebrated every single birthday of my 45 years.

In a way, it could be like the Tralfamadorians in Kurt Vonnegut's book "Schlachthof Fuenf" - Slaughterhouse Five - where they saw humans as centipedes - each year was a section of body... the head was the oldest version, and the tail was the youngest.

Does that happen as a parent? Do you not celebrate each year of your child's life, but rather EVERY year of your child's life?

I'm 45. I've made the "45-54" age bracket.

My life is not as exciting as it used to be, but it is even more fulfilling than ever before.

I never thought I'd see that day, yet I can't wait to see what the next day brings.

For those of us in the Western hemisphere, tomorrow brings us summer.

Finally, my old friend has come home for a visit.

45.

When I'm 44...

I just read a little article in Wine Enthusiast magazine about Miranda Lambert. Whoever she is.

In the interview, they asked her the question: What would your 16-year-old self think of yourself now?

It made me think that this would be a good blog post.

Today, Sheryl and I went to a graduation party for one of her cousins' kids. It was nice. We had a lot of fun hanging out with her cousins. It was sort of like sitting at the kids table for Thanksgiving. I received some kind words from Sheryl's Aunt, and we laughed. A lot.

My 16-year-old self would not understand the nearly 45-year-old version of himself. In fact, the 30-year-old version of me wouldn't understand me.

The 16-year-old me might enjoy hanging out with me, but that's not a given. I was still trying to figure out my way through high school. Still trying to deal with the kids I went to school with. I don't think the current version of me could really tell the 16-year-old version of me anything that would stick with the 16-year-old me. No advice. No wisdom. Nothing.

That's how closed-minded I was at 16.

The 30-year-old version of me would like the current me, but wouldn't spend a lot of time with the current me because the 30-year-old me was out looking to party most of the time. I was still 4 years away from cancer. 4 years away from changing my neurotic mindset. And 7 years away from meeting my future wife.

7 years from changing my life - for the better.

My 16-year-old self would not have enjoyed today's graduation party. My 30-year-old version would have had a few shots beforehand. And my nearly 45-year-old self recognized that there are things you will be a part of that you never expected.

What is the most important piece of advice I would give my 16-year-old self?

Don't be afraid. You can do anything, and will accomplish a lot. Enjoy the ride.

The most important piece of advice I would give my 30-year-old self?

Don't try to force things. Everything comes about at the right time. Just make sure that you are in the best possible position when that door opens.

To all my other selves: Be gracious and appreciate what you've got.

God knows there's a lot in life to appreciate.