Night of the Lepus....uh, Killer Bunny

There are many things I enjoy in life.  Long walks on the beach (or anywhere for that matter) with my beaugtiful wife, deep-fried cinnamon rolls the size of your head, the laughter of my children, The Princess Bride (and Star Trek, Star Wars, The Big Bang Theory) and Monty Python.  That being said, it will come as no surprise to those of you who know me that I recently had a Monty Python day of sorts.

I have now been in the process of gathering bicycles and restoring them in order to sell and give all of the proceeds to Sunrise Day Camp.  I call this project ReCycle for Sunrise and its the latest fundraising effort of Connor's Army.  As much as my beautiful wife Amy likes to take romantic walks on the beach with me, she's not too keen on my riding across the country again anytime soon.  So I've been converting my corner of the basement (meine kleine mannhöhle) into my bike repair workshop so I can fix the bicycles that have been so graciously donated to our cause.  Some I find on the road and others have been given to me by friends or family (thanks be to Joan!).  In working on them I often find myself feeling a bit like F.G. Superman in the sketch below;



Of course, I don't always change clothing before I get to work but you get the idea.  I've lost track of how many bicycles I've sold in the last two years (the project really started before the Ride Across America) but I know we've made over $2,000 from the sale of these bicycles alone.  I don't sell them for very much, basically for about half of what a comparable bike would go for on Craig's List.  I clean them all up, lube them up, replace any parts that need to be replaced, and true the wheels if they need to be trued.  I then look for a comparable bike and then print out a sign and place it on my front lawn here on Main Street in Northport during the weekends.  I've even had people come by and say they've heard about me and were wondering if I had a particular type of bike.  Word of mouth can be a powerful marketing tool I guess.

But aside from Bicycle Repairman, there is another connection I had last Sunday with my Monty Python side.  To really understand this Pythonesque moment, I need to give you a little background.   Way back in the day, although not completely "old school"(which from the graphic below you can see is a bit behind the front haunches but not all the way to the mid spine), I had a summer job with my friend Ed Trevorrow.

 

We worked for the German Civil Corps of Engineers which was attached to the military base at Katterbach, Germany.  Our summer job was basically to cut all the grass in the area below;

 

 

It really wasn't such a bad gig since we had self-propelled mowers for most of the work (every now and then we had to use sling blades) and for the first part of the summer we got to ride behind them on these trailer seats until someone decided it was too dangerous for fifteen-year-old kids to be doing that and they took them away.  It was also funny as hell because the four of us would show up about 8:00 every morning but we would never roll out until 8:30.  It would always take us 30 minutes to get there and then our German supervisor would have to take a break at 10:00 which would last half an hour.  We would work until 12:00 and then head back for lunch which would take an hour.  It would then take us about half an hour to get back to wherever we had left off.  We'd work until about 2:30 when he would have another half hour break and then finish up about 4:00.  It wasn't until half way through that we learned these "breaks" basically consisted of all the civil service employees meeting back at the garage to drink a beer or two.  I guess civil service can be the same everywhere.

 

So it was usually up to me, Ed and the other two summer hires to do most of the grass cutting.  One day while out cutting grass we came across a couple of baby rabbits.  Now, we were curious as any teenage boy might be and we wanted to gete a closer look.  Big mistake!!!!!  As we edged closer to get a look at the "herd" (yes, that is actually the technical term for a group of rabbits) big mama bunny decided we were a threat and came right at us.  Did you know they make a hissing sound when threatened?  And they do have a crazed look in their eye when they attack.  Now this was probably the summer of 1979 but since I had been in Germany since 1976 (and Augusta, GA before that) I had not really seen Monty Python and the Holy Grail.  It wasn't until years later that I saw the movie and realized that the "killer rabbit" was probably just a mama bunny protecting her young ones;

  

Of course, blasting it to bejeezus with the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch was probably a bit extreme.  This experience left a lasting impression of me and I've always equated the most protective act of a mother for her children with this mother rabbit's actions.  Needless to say we backed off and went to cut another section of the field.

This event also tied into another childhood memory of mine.  When my father was stationed at Fort Ord, CA we used to go to the drive-in movies quite a bit, to the UA Marina Auto Movie in Monterrey as a matter of fact.  It used to be something we did almost once a month and I remember seeing quite a few movies there.  I remember The Black Scorpion, The Blob and one that stuck with me for years, The Night of the Lepus.  What's that you ask?  Well, here's the trailer;



Go ahead.  I can feel your shudders of terror out there in cyber space.  But hey, for a seven-year-old it was pretty scary exciting stuff.  I had a great time but I have to admit it was a long time before I would touch a bunny.  And Easter would just freak me out.

Now don't get me wrong, I don't suffer from Leporiphobia I just happen to have a healthy respect for what these animals are capable of doing if you get them riled.  Which brings me to Sunday night.

It had been a wonderful day playing with the kids and enjoying National Ice Cream day.  We had home made pancakes and vanilla ice cream for breakfast.  We went to Baskin-Robbins for lunch and for dinner we had ice cream sundaes.  A little before dinner we noticed we had a rabbit in out back yard.  Now we had noticed this rabbit about a few times in the past but hadn't thought anything of it but this time the rabbit stayed and even came up fairly close to the kids.  It was a bit brazen in fact.  When it came time to move the bicycles off the front lawn and into the shed the rabbit didn't hop off like one would think.  No, it decided to lie down under the swing set and take a little siesta while I moved the bikes around not ten feet away from it.  The kids thought this was all fantabulous and we even got a few great pictures of our bunny pal.  Here he is placidly planning his next foray;

 

And here he is making an incursion into enemy lines to test the preparedness of our defenses;



 

 

Ultimately the entire family was delighted by our new lagomorphian friend.  He stuck around for quite some time and then moved to the front yard when the real fun began.  You see, I didn't want to scare him off but I did need to take out the garbage and move the car to the drive way.  But I was convinced he (or perhaps she?) would run off as soon as I got onto the walk.  So I kept checking every fifteen minutes or so which amused my wife to no end.  She started teasing me that I was afraid of the bunny.  Of course I reminded her of the killer lagomorph of Pythonian fame which only served to amuse her more.  But I didnt' want to scare the bunny!  I was enjoying the fact that we have a wild animal that is so at ease in our yard and I don't want to scare it off.  Of course the glint in its eye didn't help;

Beatrix Potter my henie, that thing is mocking us!

In any event I finally had to give in and move the garbage out to the curb and move the car to the drive way.  The bunny did move to the other side of the front yard but it did stay in the yard.  I guess it's not afraid of me lobbing the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch at it.  I'm just glad it didn't morph into this Pooka;

 

Now that one I may need to lob a grenade at, or maybe just pummel with a baseball bat.  It's enough to give you leporiphobia.  Of course, it would all be easier if like Raj, I were the King of the Rabbits;

 

 

 

Stay well my friends and I'll see you on the road!

Relative is as Relative Does

I have had a long association with the movie Forrest Gump.  When it first came out I think I saw it three times.  Then way back when Amy and I were "single" (which is what we call the period before we had children) we used to go away for our yearly "honeymoon" which basically meant we would take a brief vacation with just the two of us  to celebrate our anniversary.  On our second "honeymoon" - well, technically the third since Ireland was the first and Cape May was the second - we travelled to Savannah, GA to exhilerate in the Old South charm of the city that provided us settings for Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil and JFK among so many others.  Also the birthplace of Johnny Mercer of "Moon River" fame.  And since I had in the not so distant past performed for nine months with Andy Williams in the "Moon River Theatre" it was pretty cool to make that connection.

But the connection we really had to make was sitting on the bench in the spot where they filmed the bench scenes for Forrest Gump.  I'm sorry to say that I don't have the digital photos to share since we don't have on file anything before 1999 but use your imagination and imagine me where Forrest is sitting above.  Of course, when it comes to the movie, I guess the character I would most resemble is Lieutenant Dan (a.k.a., Gary Sinise below with his Lieutenant Dan Band)

(Gary Sinise)

(Not Gary Sinise)

As a matter of fact, that's what a lot of my ACT students used to call me when I first started teaching at Syosset High School.  Since the movie had only come out in 1994, it was still fresh in their minds.  Especially this scene;



Now where was I?  Oh yes, Relativity.  I'm not necessary speaking of the Theory of Relativity (not to be confused with Theory of a Deadman - a Canadian rock band) which as we know was developed by cyclist Albert Einstein while on a cycling jaunt;

(Let's see if I divide how fast I'm going by the number of wheel revolutions.....)

Nope, I'm talking about the feeling we all get when we accomplish something we've been planning for so long and then it happens and you're left with that feeling of "Now what?"  That feeling of wanting to still be relevant.  I've written about it in the past, in fact on numerous occasions. 

And I'm not alone in this feeling.  Recently I was speaking to a long time suporter of Connor's Army who runs a few philanthropic activities of her own.  I won't mention her name her in order to protect her anonymity (but you know who you are) and she was relating how frustrating it feels to do so much work and not reach the goal she had reached for herself.  I certainly do understand.  I had set a goal for myself of raising $50,000 last summer - the goal of trying to send ten campers to Sunrise Day Camp.  We only reached half of the amount when all was said and done.  And I have been feeling so incredibly adrift for the year since we got back because I felt like my family and I worked so hard and sacrificed so much (both financially, physically and emotionally) and now its as if we never did it.  No one remembers what we've done or appreciates any longer what a normal American family did just becuase it was a good thing to do. 

And then there have been the last three weeks at Sunrise Day Camp.  This past week alone have been an amazingly rejuvenating experience as I have been reminded daily of why my family and I gave up our summer, why I risked completely rupturing the disc in my back, why we risked out healthy pedalling in 115+ heat.  I have seen the joy in the faces of the kids that are attending the camp.  I'll never know which kids have been able to have the experience of Sunrise because of my efforts but these past three weeks have been a daily reaffirmation of why my fundraising makes a difference and continues to be relevant.  Moments such as seeing the looks of complete joy when the campers got the chance to experience the carnival with all the bouncy rides during the second week of camp.  I realized that except for the fundraising I and others had done, some of these campers would never experience that kid of joy.  Yes, here on Long Island we get spoiled by all the parties at Pump it Up and other establishments.  But for many of our campers who come from a more urban environment, this was the first time they had ever had the chance to do this sort of thing.  And there will be many more such experiences this summer.

And then there are the things the kids have said to me over the last three weeks.  The first week, five or six campers thanked me for what I did last summer.  Then the second week I was sitting at lunch with some campers from the Leadership group and one of the campers said to me, "I want to thank you becuase you've really inspired me.  I want to do something to make a difference."  As I simultaneously tried to hold back the tears and not choke on my sandwich I had enough blood flow in my brain to be truly thankful for that moment.  Becuase if there was one kid who was brave (and self aware) enough to voice that thought, there are probably more who are having the same thought and just haven't said anything.  And that made me feel definitely relevant.

And then this past week we suffered through and incredibly heat wave.  It wasn't like what my family and I went through in middle America last summer but it was hot and it was stiffling and it was hard on these campers.  And yet, one of the campers came up to me on Thursday and said, "We have drama with you today, I'm so excited!".  Now normally that wouldn't be such a big deal.  Except for the fact that this girl is one that I've known for three years now and who hardly ever cracks a smile. when she sees me.  Yet this time she was smiling and saying how much she was looking forward to doing drama with me!  Now that is certainly relevant and was just the reminder I needed that what I do at Sunrise matters to someone.

So yes, I will still continue to try my best to make a difference in the lives of others, particularly those fighting their individual battles with cancer.  And I will now also get the chance to help make a difference in the lives of my neighbors in Northport as part of the Northport Fire Department.  And I will continue to try to make a difference in trying to help instill the love of drama in just one more young person.  No, I may never again be in the papers (or host the weather for that matter), but that's really not what its about or why I do any of this.  To be relative, I have to act relative and try to make a difference every day.  No matter if it's not good enough for anyone else but me.

And as I voice these thoughts, I'm glad to say I'm back on my bike and training almost every day in order to be in shape for my next assignment as part of the Northport Rescue Bike Squad - you never know when my being able to pedal fast might help someone in need!  And if all goes well, I will start EMT-B classes in September!

So Stay well my friends and I'll see you on the road!

Oh, and for a little dessert after reading all of this about being relative, here is a clip of a song called "All or Nothing" from the band Theory of a Deadman. Hey, they're not bad for a bunch of Canadians (although the road in the video looks strangely familiar);



TTFN

A Year in the Life!

 

 

Back in the mid-80's there was a TV miniseries called A Year in the Life which followed the various members of the Gardner family of Seattle during the course of one year. The major event of that year was the sudden and unexpected death of wife and mother Ruth Gardner.  Now I can't say I personally ever watched the show because I was at teh time an "older than average" student (I was 23 and a sophomore) trying to get myself back into the academic swing.  I was totally out of it, in the six years since I had graduated from C.E. Ellison I had accumulated an A.A. in Communications and had completed an acting course at the National Shakespeare Conservatory but getting back into the academic grind, plust tring to keep up with the demands of being a dance performance major, plus working a part-time job to pay the bills didn't really leave me with a lot of TV watching time.  I did have some house mates who were into the show and they seemed to really get into the trials and tribulations of this Seattle family.

 

But what does all of this have to do with me, you faithful (and sometimes happenstance) readers and Connor's Army?  A year ago today my family and I dipped our rear wheels in the Pacific Ocean, pointed our bikes eastward and began the first of 46 days of pedaling across America in the hopes of raising money to send as many campers as we could to Sunrise Day Camp.  It was midway through the seven miles of an average gradient of 6% climb that I wondered whether I was going to make it the next 3,000 + miles.  That first day I lost contact with the support team (my family) on the way to Pine Valley adn I was really thinking I might have bitten off more than I could chew - that I would let down the camp, my family and myself.  I won't go into all the details of what kept me motivated to go in this post - those of you who have followed us know the answer to that and those of you who don't know what would motivate a family of five to spend the summer slowly traversing the country stuffed into a mini van are welcoe to read all the other entries at www.connorsarmy.blogspot.com.  I sometimes go back and read those pre-ride entries and realize that I had no freaking clue what I was getting myself into.

 

On that very first day a year ago I was slapped in the face with the cold (or rather really, really, really hot) reality of what was happening.  Although that first ride was only 45 milesit was a wake up call that this was not going to be easy.  It was exhilirating and exhausting all at that same time.  During the summer that would follow I would have days when I wanted to throw my bike down and give up; where I would find road companions and experience a moment that was so incredibly special it is indelibly etched in my mind.  I learned so much about my children , had some incrediblye bonding moments with them and truly learned that without my wife I would be nothing.  Her love and supported sustained me across the deserts, the mountains, the prairies and the scary state that is New Jersey.  I will never be able to express to her how much I am grateful to her for all she has done for me.

And now a year later it all seems like a dream.  Not a day goes by when I don't have a flashback of some amazing sight I saw along the 3713 miles of my journey.  Some I was able to record on video;

while others are forever installed in my brain like the view from the top of Mesa Verda or the view from the Blueridge Parkway;

I won't lie, I really wish I was on my bike again.  For two years I had a purpose, a goal, a reason to gete on my bike and log the miles in all kinds of weather.  I was pedaling for those who couldn't - the adults, the kids, those for whom cancer was a personaly enemey, not just an abstract word with negative connotations.  Their stories and faces are what drove me to continue to push through the pain and through the discomfort because it was nothing compared to what they were going through.  But as I've written in the past we're now a year away from that life-changing experience and I've been feeling adrift every since we returned.

Yes, there was the horror of what we found as we came back and we threw ourselves into getting ourselves back into "civilian" mode.  But now it's a year later and we have found ourselves slouching back into the old familiar dance.  The year at Syosset was full of ups and downs as the program continues to grow but the casting conflicts once agan created division in the ranks and left me feeling battered, loathed and unappreciated.  A huge let down after feelign I had made a real difference in the world last summer.

In an endeavor to continue making a difference I joined the Northport Fire Department this past December.  It's something I've been wanting to do for a very long time because of various emergencies that have happened in our lives.  I never want to ever be in a situation again where its an emergency and I don't know what to do or how I can help.  Of course, I had to wait until I finished my Master's and until the Ride Across America was finished.  In the six months since I started I've been on many rescue squad calls, I've been trained to drive the ambulance, I've been CPR/AED certified, I've been taught what to do during Rapid Interventioin Training and Spinal Chord Injuury in an Aquatic Environment, I've learned to take vitals and so much more.  I feel proud knowing I can help those people in Northport who are in need.  I haven't yet started my official EMT-B training but that will start at the beginning of September if all works out.  I've already starting working as part of the EMT Bike Rescue Squad and I really can't wait to combine my passion for cycling with my desire to help others.

And we had a real scare this year with William which really brought last summer's journey into a personal perspective when it was discovered he had a tumor on his shoulder blade.  It was benign but he still needed to have surger to reomove it which necessitated scooping out th ebone.  He is completely out of th ewoods now but there was about a month there where we were frightened to death.  We know there was only a small chance he was malignant but because of our experience with cancer (both personal and Sunrise) that small chance loomed overhead like a glistening guillotine of doom.  But he's been cleared now and all the subsequent check ups have been clean.  We're still slightly holding our breaths but breathing much easier when we do.

And there was the loss of our dear Lily cat.  As much as she could be weird and finicky about eating and pooping, she truly became part of our family, particularly during this last year.  When we came home in August she seemed to be so happy to see us.  It took a few days for her to realize we were really home for good and once she accepted the fact that we weren't leaving again, she really became so much more affectionate.  Once December came and I was on call once a week I amde a practice of sleeping on the couch so Amy wouldn't be awakened by the beeper going off.  And Lily made it HER practice from that first night to always sleep on my stomach or chest.  Sometimes it was maddening as she would hope off and on throughout the night giving me little rest.  But it became something that was comforting to me when on call.

At the end of February she started taking a turn for the worse and Amy took her in to the vet numerous times.  She was never the healthiest of cats from the day we brought her home and as she was a rescue cat we were never sure exactly how old she was.  We tried various vets and various treatments over the years but we were never able to exactly pinpoint her exact condition.  She was always thin and small for her age but around April 20th she stopped eating periodically.  We were used to this in her and we changed her cat food which worked for a while.  But then around May 2nd she stopped eating altogether and not even drinking much water either.  At that point we knew that we would have a very difficult decision to make very soon.  On Saturday the 4th she was in pretty bad shape.  We knew the vet was closed for the weekend and we knew that Monday we were going to have to take her in to have her put to sleep.  We didn't want to wait too long as we had with Boo so we would call the vet first thing.

 

On Sunday she was so weak she could hardly stand at all and when she walked she would list to the side and occasioinal fall over.  We knew the end was near.  We weren't even sure if she would last the night.  I wasn't on call that night but I slept on the couch just so she wouldn't be alone in case she passed in the night.  I cradled her on my chest all night so I could feel her breathing.  I dozed off sometime around 2:00 in the morning and when I woke up at 6:00 she was still wtih us.  I left for school and Amy called the vet the first thng and made an appointment to bring her in.  They told her 11:00 was the first time they could fit Lily in so Amy picked up the kids from school so they could go and say their last goodbyes.  They waited with ehr in the waiting room and petted her, told her how much they loved her and then said goodbye as the assistant came in to take her in.  The vet came back moments later to say Lily had already passed, most likely while in the waiting room.  It helped the kids to know she passed on her own, probably while being petted and knowing she was loved.

 

A few days later we had a funeral for her and buried her under the dogwood tree in the front yard.  We each wrote a list of things we loved about Lily and shared them with each other before puttin gthe lists in with her and covering her with dirt.  The kids were really broken up (as we all were) but we were also happy to know she was no longer in pain.  We lost a member of our family, the first pet the kids can really, truly remember but we were so glad that she passed knowing she was loved and cherished.  And here is a photo of one of the ways we will always remember our lovable, quirky little Lily cat, drinking out of any glass we happened to leave on the table;

 

 

 

The year was full of other ups and downs - a winning baseball season for the boys (their first ever), outstanding NYSSMA scores for Sarah and James, surviving Sandy, more car troubles than I can really enumerate in this post, a great prom weekend with Amy in the city, Sarah moving up to High School, me turning FIFTY (shhhhh!) - but through it all we've been a family.  I'm still grateful to Amy every minute of every day for the love and suport she gives me in all my misadventured piteous overthrow, for beign the incredible mother to our childeren and for being such an amazing role model.  If the year has taught me anything, it taught me that I would be nothing without her.  I kmw I am one of the luckiest people in the world becausd of my wife and children and I would not "trade my state for that of kings".  Shakespear's Sonnet 29 has long been one of my favorites but until this year I haven't really been able to appreciate these words;

 

When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself, and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,
Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts my self almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

 

Now when I look at my wife and children I truly get it.

 

Don't get me wrong.  I still feel restless and irrelevant and unusre of what to do next with my life and with Connor's Army.  I still RECycle for Sunrise adn I am still searching for ways to use my bicycle to help the cancer community, particularly the one on Long Island.  But as I spend this summer at Sunrise, reminiscing (and longing to repeat) that trip across America I'm still searching for the next purpose.  It seems in today's world with instant access to everything on the internet that relevance is only as current as what you've done lately.  Right now I'm looking for that next moment of relevance, that next way that I can make a differenc.  Any ideas?  Ti's charity to shew.

 

Stay well my friends and I'm hoping to see you back on the road.

Straddling the Great Divide!

I'm 50 years old.  There, I said it.  I've been in denial for far too long.  And it's not denial of this sort;

No, I've been holding back from admitting it for far too long and it feels good to finally get it off my chest.  I feel like I've joined the ranks of FA (Fifty-somethings Anonymous) rather than the dubious fraternity of Alpha Alpha Rho Pi.  I mean, my birth certificate says I'm 50 and my driver's license says I'm 50.  However the mirror - most of the time - doesn't show me 50 (I still have almost all of my hair, not much grey, I can still bend over and touch the floor and do the splits) and I certainly don't feel 50.  My wife likes to say that I'm still a 17-year-od boy (and not always in a good way) and some might accuse me of having a case of Peter Pan syndrome.  But the truth of the matter is that I really don't feel my age - especially when I compare myself to most other 50-something men I know.

But there are those moments when I realize I am straddling the great divide.  Not like I did last summer;

when I reached the top of Wolf Creek Pass, nor is it quite like the great Colossus of Rhodes we see pictured above.  But I AM now at the halfway point of my life.  As I fully intend to live at least 100 years this is it, just as the song says, "halftime goes by, suddenly you're wise";



To ease me into the midway point of my life wew celebrated my birthday WEEKEND with not just one day of having fun, but FOUR days of fun.  It started with me conducting "God Bless America" with the Ocean Avenue 4th and 5th graders at the Long Island Ducks Friday night.  It was rainy and completely dreary so we decided to skip the beginning of the game (we actually were watching it online until we knew the third inning started) so we timed it to get there at the bottom of the fifth inning.  There were only about 300 in attendance and it was cold but William and James had a great time and the small group of kids sounded great! 

On Saturday it was pouring so I couldn't go out for a ride.  So instead the family and I continued to "get our geek on" and watched two and a half Star Trek movies - last half of The Search for Spock, The Voyage Home, and The Final Frontier! Oh, and we managed to squeeze in an epic game of Risk!  The end result was that I was the Supreme Ruler of the World.  Too bad Amy still doesn't recognize that fact.

Sunday was a rather incredible day as it began with a snuggle in bed with one of the Connor progeny and the other making Challa bread French Toast for us in the kitchen.  In the afternoon I was able to engage in my yearly ritual - riding one mile for every year of my existence!  This time I did the 50 miles in LESS THAN THREE HOURS - How's that for a guy whose life is half way over?!?!  After cleaning up we got to watch some more Star Trek with the whole family (The Undiscovered Country) and I finally got to watch the first Lord of the Rings movie with Sarah.  Of course the ultimate irony was that a call came in and since I hadn't gone on any all weekend I decided I should go.  I only wish we could have fit in a game of D&D to totally get my 17-year-old geek on but that would require a dungeon master, which we didn't have at hand.

And then there was today!  The great climactic day of my full weekend celebration.  Due to various scheduling problems (it is Memorial Day weekend) we weren't able to have a party here this weekend so the entire Village of Northport threw me a party instead.  Okay, not really but today is Memorial Day and it IS my birthday and there is a parade!  As a member of the Northport Fire Department I get the honor and priviledge of marching in the various parades.  So I dressed up today in my Class A uniform and headed down to the station.  I was one of the lucky few who got to ride up onto the staging area on 2-9-2 which is our 1938 Mack pumper truck.  We got to ride on the running board holding on to the rails just like they did in the days of yore and we waved to the kids on the street.  It was such a great way to start the day!

When we were getting ready to march one of the chiefs told me to take one of the flags so it ended up that I had the honor of being one of two people who led the fire departement down Main street to the town park for the parade.  I was leading with Will Scherr (another probie) and it was high school all over again.  You see, Will is about six inches taller than me and it brought to mind memories of Ed Trevorrow and I playing the sousaphone together in the marching band.  Ed was also six inches taller than me - at least this way with Will being taller the American flag was taller than the Village of Northport flag - as it should be. 

So I marched the parade with the honor of leading the department and as I marched I pretended all the cheers were for me in honor of my birthday.  Then, as a flag beareer I was part of th ecolor guard that stood up in fornt of the whole village at the town park as part of the Memorial Day observance.  It was really a great feeling to represent my department, my village and my country in such a huge undertaking.

Then it was time to party!!!  The NFD threw a big bar-b-que for the department members and their families back at the station so as soon as I started walking back I called the family and told them to meet me.  For some reason it was taking a long time for them to get there so I decided to go ahead and start eating and so I sat down and bonded with some of the more senior members of the department.  Finally Amy and the kids showed up and after the kids had something to eat Amy disappeared - that should have been my second clue.  I turned around and Amy was bringing out a huge sheet cake and she got everyone to start singing "Happy Birthday" - if I wasn't sure if people knew it was my birthday before, they sure knew it now!!!!  Apparently she had cleared it with the chiefs before hand and that's why she was late - they had to pick up the cake at Stop and Shop!  If my fellow members didn't know I was a member of AARP before, they do now!  And you know what?  I'm okay with that now.  I don't look my age, I don't feel my age, and once again Amy will tell you I don't act my age.

And then there was birthday dinner.  Despite the fact I had consumed hamburgers, the plan was to go to Smokaburger for dinner.  However as we were parked outside we thought, "what about 5 Guys?"  So, after the long trek to 5 Guys we get in and realize there was nothing for Sarah to eat.  So we pile back in the car and head back to Smokaburger. While there we realize we should just get it to go so we could watch yet another Star Trek, The Final Frontier.  So we get it to go and becuase we were so starved we ended up with a veritable Smokaburger Smorgasborg, i.e., too much food!  But before dessert (more cake) I got some of the best presents I've ever received from my wonderful family.  From the kids I received the lego Ambulance and bicycle set to commemorate the accident that ended my last Gold Coast attempt..  For those of you unfamiliar with your Lego Encyclopedia it looks like this;

Now whether I'm supposed to be the guy on the bike or the EMT I'm not sure.  But we did discover that I can put the EMT on the bike and I can be part of the bike patrol!  And my lovely bride gave me my very own blue light (yes, folks I am a K-Mart special) for going on calls.  It really isn't something I need most of the time but it will be very helpful when I need to get to Station 1 at night and people are moving slowly.  So my gifts were really all about being an EMS provider, now to go on some calls!

But the kids' gift reminded me of a very important aspect - to keep being a kid.  But maybe that's okay.  In the days leading up to this weekend I was feeling sort of depressd that we weren't having a 50th birthday party (a long sotry - another blog entry in itself) and I was feeling fatalistic about the big 5-0 (and it wasn't even the Hawaiin variety).  Of course the fatalism may just be the Irish in me;

I've also been reading (and sometimes reciting) "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" which has been one of my favorite pieces of poetry since I was 22-years-old yet I never really "got" it until now.  Of course, I'm not sure anyone ever gets all of T.S. Eliots seminal work but now after almost 30 years I sort of get it.  Really.  There are those days when I particularly feel the line "I grow old, I grow old, I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled...."  I think especially after 8700 miles on the bike in the last year my legs and spine definitely feel shorter.  And yes, there are times when in my dreams I do hear "the mermaids singing each to each".  And I do have those moments when I regret the things I have not done and the dreams I did not follow.  But I'm also in a very good place right now and I have a really good life and an amazing family.  I have the next half of my life to make up for not being as good a father/husband as I should have been the first.

I guess the main hting is that I still feel young(ish).  Part of that I attribute to mykids - they keep me young as I try to keep up with them.  They remind me of what my life is supposed to be about.  It's not always easy to remember but I am trying.  As long as I can try to stay young at heart, I'm hoping to stay young(er) in body.  As someone once said, you do have to grow older, but you don't have to grow up.  So if I'm going to live another 50 years, I guess this begins my second childhood.  Now where's the cheerios?!?

Stay well all of you - I'll see you on the road (fortunately this time around without training wheels).

Why I Still Wear Yellow

About four weeks ago my Livestrong bracelet broke.  "No problem," I thought to myself, "I'll just go and get another one out of my drawer."  You see, every since my sister Angela was diagnosed with cancer in 2005 I've worn one of these bracelets to support her in her fight against cancer.  When my mother and two other sisters also contracted other cancers within the next two years I vowed I would never stop wearing one until this horrible disease was beaten. 

That was the year Connor's Army was born and I vowed that I would do something to help not only my family but others in their own fights against cancer to show my gratitude for my own family's successful struggles with the disease.  I would always manage to buy a few at a time thinking if one broke I could then instantly replace it.   The disease has not yet been eradicated (like it's predecessor polio) so I'm still wearing my bracelet.  As a matter of fact, when we decided to begin our very first Connor's Army fundraiser I chose yellow as the color of our jerseys because it would match the bracelet!

I know, sounds stupid right?  I mean, I have always liked yellow, even though it's not the artsiest of colors and can make you look jaundiced if you don't have just the right skin tone.  Nevertheless, I have always liked it even though as a theatre person my wardrobe tends to runs to various shades of black.   To me yellos is a happy color, a color of rebirth and sunlight, a color of hope. If you go to Color Wheel Pro and look up their interpretations of color, they state that yellow is;

Yellow is the color of sunshine. It's associated with joy, happiness, intellect, and energy. Yellow produces a warming effect, arouses cheerfulness, stimulates mental activity, and generates muscle energy.

"What," you may be asking yourself, "is your point and what has precipitated this color rant/meandering mental migration?"  Well, you see it all started about two weeks ago when I realized that the replacement bracelet I had put on to replace the Livestrong bracelet that had broken two weeks previously was not an adult-sized bracelt.  It was a child's, one that I had bought for the kids to wear if they decided they wanted to wear one like daddy.  Unfortunately, my children tend to run on the small size (genetics, go figure) so the youth bracelets don't fit them.  Soooo, I put them in the drawer with the other bracelets for safe keeping thinking they would be there if the kids ever wanted them.   Of course, completely forgetting that fact, when I broke my latest one I just reached in and put it on.  I figured that since I was a "slightly" built individual it would be fine.   Well, after two weeks of struggling with it tangling up in everything and cutting off my circulation I decided I needed an adult, the youth was cutting it (hmmm, is that philosophical or what - but more on that in another post).

Now I tend to go through one of these bracelets every eight to twelve months due to the fact that I never take them off - I sweat in them, stretch them over my jerseys when I ride,  When I first made my decision to wear one always I bought eight of them from a local bike shop - five adult and three youth.  So naturally, when I realized I was completely out of adult Livestrong bracelets I went to the LBS (local bike shop) where I originally purchased them only to be told, "Sorry dude, we don't carry those anymore."  Undeterred, I went to another bike shop and got the same response.  So I went to a third, another negative response.  It wasn't until I went to the fourth bike shop and was told not only did they plan on not stocking them but I was asked, "Why would you want to wear that piece of crap anyway?  Armstrong's just a big cheater who got caught!"

Well, instead of getting into a big philosophical argument with this idiot (becasue even idiots are entitled to their wrong beliefs), I thanked him and left.  What spurred me to lots of introspective brain meanderings was the fact that this counter jockey's point of view is not a solitary one.  There are many editorials out there decrying Lance Armstrong's cheating ways and how it denigrates every cancer survivor by even coming near one, much less wearing one.  There are thousands of blog entries out there that speak of the evil intent behind Nike's continuing to sell the bands and support the Livestrong Foundation, as if it is some corporate conspiracy to use the proceeds from the continued sale of these bracelets to somehow buy respectability.  Indeed, an article on the Wristbands.com website gives a few ideas of how they can be altered to "more honestly" represent the idea behind the bands.

To hell with all of you!  Sorry, my blog, I can say what I want.  I don't wear the wristband because I support Nike or because I am convinced of Lance Armstrong's innocence.  It is beyond refute that he did use banned substance to win at cycling;



Now people are still arguing about whether or not this was a true confession.   In my own faith confession (or reconciliation) is one of the holy sacraments (baptism, communion, reconciliation, confirmation, marriage, holy orders, annointing of the sick).  In an article on AmericanCatholic.org it makes very clear that three things are required of a penitent in order to receive the sacrament of reconciliation (or confession) worthily:

1. He must be contrite—or, in other words, sorry for his sins.
2. He must confess those sins fully, in kind and in number.
3. He must be willing to do penance and make amends for his sins.

There are those who will say that he didn't fulfill the first part and no one is very sure if he is going to do the third.

I'm not going to defend what he did as an athlete.  Did I think he was incredibly awesome on the bike?  Yes.  Did I somehow secretly get motivated by watching videos of him race?  Yes.  Were there moments in my deluded state where I secretly thought, "Hey, he came back from cancer and raced, maybe I could start racing too!"  Yes.  Did I like to cheer for a fellow Texan?  HELL Yes!  Did I refuse to believe he could have used drugs to cheat after all the drugs that were pumped through him during chemo?  You better believe it.  Was I incredibly dissappointed and let down when I watched the above interview and heard him finally "come clean"?  Absolutely.

But I don't wear the yellow bracelet for him.  Say what you want about his cheating, doing anything to win mentality.  But he has done an incredible amount of good for the cancer community.  So many have been helped becuase of the foundation he began and his advocacy.  As a cancer suvivor he brought the spotlight on this disease and got corporate America to begin to invest in eradicating this disease.  So for that alone I am grateful to Lance Armstrong for what he has done to help the fight against cancer.  The Livestrong Foundation is still advocating for those battling this disease and Lance Armstrong is no longer involved in the operation of the organization. 

No, I wear the bracelet for my sisters, my mother, the children of Sunrise, my friends and all those I met along the Ride Across America who have battled or are battling this disease. I wear the band in support for them. I ride in yellow in support for the people who don't even know they have the disease and will soon be fighting their own battle. Current estimates are that 35,000 a day will be diagnosed with cancer. I wear yellow to lend them my strength in their fight. 

And I look forward to a day when I don't have to buy another yellow bracelet.  Ever.

Stay well my friends and I'll see you on the road.

Bits and Pieces

 

Long, long ago in a city far, far away I was an older than average Resident Assistant at Southern Methodist University  in Dallas, Texas.  At the time I was struggling to come to grips with a very bad breakup with a young lady I cared very deeply about.  In my young, often idealistic way I could see us having some sort of future together, maybe not marriage but something long term.  She didn't see it that way and as I was making my way from her dorm room (she was an RA as well) after she broke the news to me that we were through I happened to find this poem posted on a resident's door;

 

Bits and Pieces

People.

People important to you,

People unimportant to you cross your life, touch it with love and move on.

There are people who leave you and you breathe a sigh of relief and wonder why you ever came into contact with them.

There are people who leave you, and you breathe a sigh of remorse and wonder why they had to go and leave such a gaping hole.

Children leave parents, friends leave friends. Acquaintances move on. People change homes.

People grow apart. Enemies hate and move on. Friends love and move on.

You think of the many people who have moved in and out of your hazy memory.

You look at those present and wonder.

I believe in God's master plan in our lives.
God moves people in and out of each other's lives, and each leaves a mark on the other. You find you are made up of bits and pieces of all who have ever touched your life.
You are more because of them, and would be less if they had not touched you.

Pray that you accept the bits and pieces in humility and wonder, and never question and never regret.

Bits and pieces, bits and pieces.

For some reason I decided to copy it down and I kept that copy for many years.  I think I finally threw away my copy as I moved and my wife Amy told me I should probably get rid of some of my old college detritus (I still have all my college notes from my English classes "just in case" - much to Amy's chagrin) since I probably didn't need it. 

At the time, I didn't know the author of the poem.  It wasn't until many years later that I descovered it was written by Lois Chaney and included in the book of poems "God is No Fool".  Although we can be his fools and make him laugh (I seem to do it on a weekly if not daily basis), he is not the type to wear motley and play the fool for us (can you tell I've been reading the Game of Thrones series?).

This past summer as I pedaled my way across America (and fried my brain in the process), I found myself ruminating on various aspects of my life to pass the time as I watched the miles roll by from my 3 1/2 foot perch.  What had led me to do what I'm doing now?  How had things aligned to meet my wife (without whom my cross country journey would never have been successful)?  How had things all worked in such a way that my three beautiful and special children could be born?  What were the influences in my life that brought me to the place I was now?  Who were those people that have shaped who I am?

And I would think of the poem from years ago and fragments would come back to me.  As those fragments shaped themselves in my head I would find myself thinking about "the many people who have moved in and out of [my] hazy memory."

First of course is my father.  He has always been my hero and always given me the example of what it means to do your duty, to do a job well and give it your all - not for glory and accolades but for the simple pride of knowing you did your very best.  I guess all Army brats think that of their fathers for all our fathers, especially those of us whose father's were "lifers" know what it means to have a parent who is career military.  Their deeds go unnoticed by the outside community and even we don't often know what they've done until years later.  My father was (and is) such a man.  In his indomitable silent way he is still my hero.

And as my thoughts continued to wander amongst the many bits and pieces of those who have shaped me, I would often think of teachers whose encouragment and example led me to my career as a performer and a teacher.  First on this list would be my fourth grade teacher Mr. Jean Archambeaux who taught me that it was okay to be very smart and that I needn't hide the fact that I was intelligent and creative.  My middle school teachers were all a blur to me as I kept moving from place to place but it was in high school at Ansbach American High school that the most important impressions were made on me by teachers and fellow students alike and as I rode I found myself thinking of those days in Southern Bavaria and the friendships (and not-so-friendships) that were formed there and how they created who I am today.

First the teachers, not as numerous but important in the impact on my young impressionable mind.  Oddly enough, I think Peter Micelli would be first and foremost on that list.  He welcomed me to his German I class and because of that I excelled (so much so that years later when I went to Switzerland on tour I was complimented on my German by a Swiss watchmaker - high praise indeed, methinks) in the language but most important, he invited me to try out for the wrestling team.  I was smaller and weaker than all the other kids and basically became the wrestling equivalent of a "tackling dummy" but I was hooked and my stubborn Irish make up refused to quit.  I became the butt of jokes and hazings but those only served to shape my personality even more (more on that later).

Next on that list would be Cooper Patterson and Emily VanSweden - the music and drama teachers.  Because of them I learned a love and appreciation for music and theatre that would become my life.  I wish I had been more talented as a musician but Mr. Patterson was patient with me and encouraging to the point that I joined almost every band possible.  He even offered to keep me at his house when my parents went back to the States so I could graduate with my class but my folks said no.  Ms. VanSweden kindled in me a love for English and acting as well as expressing myself that helped me find a place at C.E. Ellison High School when we moved to Texas.  Music and drama were the two clubs I gravitated to and because of what she kindled in me I found a niche there.  Today I carry a part of her in me constantly - especially when I'm teaching my own drama classes today.

And there were two others during my Ansbach days that shaped who I am, both coaches - one for football and one for wrestling.  Gary McCauley was a guidance counselor but a much loved (and sometimes feared) football coach.  He drove us mercilessly but he was fair and passionate and he taught me not only a love of the game but also how to work as part of a team.  I was small but I was strong and he gave me the chances to prove myself eventually putting me in enough quarters to earn my varsity letter.  The second of these two was Ron Materna who taught physical education but took over for Coach Micelli when he moved away.  Coach Materna was tough in the way that only a phys ed teacher of the 70's could be and it shaped me in more ways than I could ever thank him for.  His practices (and classes) taught me how to push myself physically farther than I thought I could - often to exhaustion.  But then I would dig deeper to try and find more.  I was as talented a wrestler as my fellows but my junior year I had developed such an incredible amount of stamina that I won matches because I could outlast my opponents.  The endurance and tolerance for pain that he instilled in me served me well as I became a professional dancer and as I was pushing myself in 115 degree heat over 123 grueling miles in the desert.  Without that core and that NEVER, EVER QUIT mentality he instilled in us I would never have made it.

About a year ago I became a member of a facebook group for Ansbach American High School and in the last few weeks a few of the members have begun scanning in and posting pictures of our yearbooks.  While I was riding cross country I did find myself thinking of many of my high school classmates from my Ansback days but in the last week I have begun thinking on them even more as I have been virtually flipping through the pages of these yearbooks.  Maybe its the fact that almost all of the classmates I would have graduated with are either approaching the half century mark or have just passed it but as I ponder my own impending passage of that dubious honor I find myself thinking more and more of them - the friends, the "frenemies" (in all honesty I can't say I ever hated anyone), the loves, the crushes, those who were (and still are to a very large extent) a part of my life and who shaped who I have become.

So where to begin?  I think I'll take the bitter pill first and start with the "frenemies".  Now don't get me wrong, looking over my life I can't honestly say there is anyone that I have ever really HATED!  I've disliked people intensely a few times but I've never hated them.  But these guys were ones that teased me rather mercilessly and considering the fact that I was 4'6" as a freshman and couldn't hit 100 pounds if I was wet I guess I can't totally blame them - I WAS and easy (if somewhat fast and elusive) target.  Guys like Richard Webb, Bud and James Pettit, Chester Sykes, Steve Longland, Richard Ahearn and pretty much everyone on the basketball team my freshman year.  As a freshman (i.e., "mat back") wrestler they were like the leaders of my initiation into the sport.  But as much as they tormented me they also pushed me to be better.  They made me earn their acceptance of me and it took all season but at the end I think I gained a bit.  They taught me perseverance and the importance of not taking no for an answer.  They taught me to push through it no matter what and made me a better athlete because of it.  Qualities I sorely needed this summer when I was pedaling through the desert for 123 miles in 115 degree heat.

I guess following close on their heels would be those athletes whose abilities I admired and strove to emulate.  Once again, I can list Richard Ahearn on that list along with Freddie Jones, George Webb, Merle Rogers, Tony Washington, Rainer Hoedl (he was a beast!), Mike Chairat, George Franciscus and Brett Hardin.  They were such well rounded athletes that I strove to be like them and in some cases competed with them for spots on teams.  Wanting to be like (or better) than them drove me to get up in the morning and run three to five miles a day, even in the snow. I figured if I could create great endurance I might be able to be as good as them, I could be the kind of athlete they were.  By the end of my junior year I think I succeeded somewhat, although I would never reach the heights some of my heroes had attained, they at least showed me the way to push myself - again, a quality I sorely needed this past summer!

Then there was another group of guys who really, really formed so much of what I am today.  Guys like Brett Hardin, Scott (Tiny) Hoyt, Tony Washington, and Jon Forester.  They weren't my best friends but they were definitley guy who accepted me for what I was and helped me get through a lot of my awkwardness.  By their acceptance of many of my quirks they showed me it was okay to be myself.  It was especially great when we moved to Ft. Hood and Tony was my next door neighbor (again) and Jon was there in town and he reconnected with my cousin Taeil and spent a lot of time at our house.

And then there were the bros!  Way before we heard about things like "bronies", "bromance", "bro code" and the various other "broliciousness" there was a group of guys who accepted me totally for who I was, short and slightly geeky - Ed Trevarrow, Mark Pariseau, Ralph Ellis, Vincent Swadis, and Jon Pongratz.  I have to say that it was mainly Ed and Mark who helped me form something that would truly become a core of who I am today for they inspired in me the love of cycling.  The time we spent digging through dumpsters for bike parts and then painstakingly crafting them into our own Frankebikes (remember the basement rooms full of parts?) created in me a love for bicycles.  However, it was actually riding these creations all over Southern Bavaria that became part of who I would be for the rest of my life.  The love of freedom the two wheeled contraptions gave us (not to mention the philosophical discussions that would ultimately ensue) gave me a core for what would become a life long passion and love affair - one that continues to this day.  I can't tell you how many times I thought of the Ansbach bikers as I traversed the country this summer.  And quite honestly, I would often think how much fun they would probably have if they were with me - and then I would realize they would.

And speaking of passion.  Okay, perhaps not "passion" but certain far off crushes.  As I have been perusing the old familiar yearbooks it really took me back how many there were.  I know almost none of them ever realized that the skinny, geeky kid they had in class, in clubs and on teams had any sort of feelings for them.  To be honest I was too scared to even ask them to dance at the ever popular dances we would hold at school.  But from afar I worshipped/crushed/adored so many of these girls.  Girls like Pam and Patty Krueger, Heather Renner, Angie and Lisa Sasser, Monique Pariseau (okay, I think she knew, much to my chagrin), Kathy Emmert, Nancy Hughes, Martha Valasquez, Tracy Cloud, Sonja Snyder, Robin Fortune (I know, you never knew), Nancy Mick, Debbie Rogers, Sylvia Johnson, Christy Cunningham (I think she knew), Becky Lewis, Sandie Hudson, Michelle Cleveland, and one that I could never, ever tell - Sherri Powell.  There were also others like Dia Harlow and Virginia Mckloskey that so influenced me that I can't even write it all down here but you ladies still reside in my heart, every single one of you.  Although I could never be in your league, you all were adored from afar and became part of who I am today and remind me of the wonderful times of Ansbach.

And so many memories of clubs, field trips, games, concerts, dances, practices, sledding, cycling, discoing, wandering, and just hanging out with all of you that truly taught me to be accepting of the world and that there was more to life than the little corner of Georgia I had left behind.  And even though I would move on to Texas and ultimately New York and across the world as a performer - you Ansbach Cougars of 1976-1980 made me who I am today and I thank you all.  I carry you with me as I go through life and I couldn't ask for better company.

I know I probably have forgotten some names in each of the categories and if you're reading this and I left you out I truly am sorry.  I blame it on the CRAFT disease I have contracted as I near the half century mark.  What's CRAFT you may ask?  Can't Remember A Freakin' Thing!  So I'm sorry to have forgotten but plesae know that you are still a part of me!

Oh, and for a little then and now action;

Chillin in 'Da Hood - Back in the Day with Bobby Longland, the Original Photo Bomber!

Chillin' with my Boy in the Hood! 

Stay well my friends and I'll be thinking about you on the road!



The Rumors of My Demise........

Growing up, one of my favorite authors (among so very many) was Samuel Clemens, most famously known by his nom de plume, Mark Twain. As anyone who has read much of his prolific output can attest, his had a somewhat rapier wit. Many of my favorite quotes have come from his writings, including the one included in the picture above. I spent two years of my life when I was in middle school (in Georgia of all places) reading as much of his writing as I could get out of the school library and other sundry places. Among some of the other works I read were these;

The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County

The Innocents Abroad

Roughing It

The Gilded Age: A Tale of Today

Sketches New and Old

Old Times on the Mississippi

The Adventures of Tom Sawyer

A Tramp Abroad 

The Prince and the Pauper

Life on the Mississippi

Adventures of Huckleberry Finn

A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court

Pudd'n'head Wilson

How to Tell a Story and other Essays

The Man That Corrupted Hadleyburg

The Diary of Adam and Eve

A Dog's Tale

The War Prayer 

Is Shakespeare Dead?

Letters from the Earth

So it's not surprising that in 8th grade I was accused by one teacher of having a "smart mouth".  I couldn't help it, I was influenced by all the sharp witicisms I was consuming from the pages of his work.  Of course, this was Martinez, Georgia in the mid-70's and my English teacher was thrilled that she had a student that was in love with word play and the power of the written word.  Not all of my teachers felt the same.

 

Although Mark Twain died in 1910, on two occasions the writer was incorrectly feared dead. Though only the second case would really be considered as a premature obituary, the first is often erroneously cited as the most famous case of the incorrect report of the passing of an individual:

1. In 1897 a journalist was sent to inquire after Twain's health, thinking he was near to death; in fact it was his cousin who was very ill. Though (contrary to popular belief) no obituary was published, Twain recounted the event in the New York Journal of 2 June 1897, including his famous words "The report of my death was an exaggeration" (which is usually misquoted, e.g. as "The rumours of my death have been greatly exaggerated", or "Reports of my death are greatly exaggerated", or quite often "The rumours of my demise have been greatly exaggerated").
2. On 4 May 1907, when people lost track of a yacht he was traveling on, the New York Times published an article saying he might have been lost at sea.  In fact, the yacht had been held up by fog, and Twain had disembarked. Twain read the article, and cleared up the story by writing a humorous account in the New York Times the following day.

And its the first quote that I take as my inspiration for this blog entry. 

 

I have to admit I have never been a very good pen pal or correspondent of any type.   Back in the day (which as you can see below would have been somewhere along the mid spine)

 

 

I really did try to keep a few pen pals as that was before the joys of instantaneous internection connectivity but those brief forays into long range correspondance always faded after six months or so.  Therefore, it should be understandable that my natural proclivity is not able to keep up long term correspondence.  Its not that I don't know how to write.  Since high school I've received compliments on how well I express myself in the written forum.  Its just that given the choice, I would much rather read than write. 

 

There have been two notable exceptions to this natural order.  The first was during the long separations that I had from Amy when we were first together.  As young performers we would take work wherever we could get it and more often than not it meant that we weren't in the same place at the same time while doing it.  As a matter of fact, a month before we got married I was performing West Side Story in Berlin, Germany while Amy was performing Nunsense in Akron, OH USA!  Nevertheless, I would dutifully write her letters and cards to keep alive our connection.  It was part of the reality of that constant separation that caused me to leave "the business" as it became increasingly more clear to me that the only way we could have a family was if we were in the same place at the same time.

 

The other exception was this past summer when I made a concerted effort to try and write every day while on the road to let everyone know how the journey had progressed.  However even that was not a complete success as I have twelve entries in various stages of draft completion.  Although considering we were gone for 74 days, I guess that's not so bad for me.  Added to that I have five other drafts stretching back to 2011 that I started and never finished for a total of 17 unfinished drafts - but I'm working on it.  One idea I have is to collect all of those blog entries and create a book of our travels with each entry being a separate chapter.  For those of you who have followed my blog posts you know they tend to be long and verbose (despite my best efforts, this has been a lifelong "curse" I always write TOO much) so with a little judicious editing and addition they can be chapters unto themselves.

So what has all of this got to do with Mark Twain's quote?  I've been far to silent for far too long and I do know that I have followers who are interested in some of what I say as evidenced from the almost 30,000 views this blog has received.  I'm sure some of you who read my blogs somewhat regularly over the summer have probably wondered what the hell happened to me and what is going on?  To be sure, a lot has happened in my life both good and bad, most recently we had a scare of sorts with William but we just received word this past week that he is "clean" and healthy and that the likelihood of his tumor returning is pretty nil.  To be honest this has consumed most of our life here in the month of February.  The news has really brought us all back to life, pretty much the way this guy feels;
 

 

As you can imagine our lives are incredibly happy now because our little boy is healthy and clean. 

 

Another thing that has been going on is my incredible lack of motivation to ride.  I've chalked up my riding log and I've realized that I've only ridden five days since the first of the year.  I've had many colleagues at school ask me if I'm still riding and I've been incredibly embarassed to admit that I haven't.  Now I can justify a lot of the last eight weeks away by talking about how I'm just getting over the flu, how the roads were really bad because of Winter Storm Nemo, how I've been unable to ride on the weekends because I'm a member of the Northport Fire Department and I want to be able to go on calls, my nagging knee injury that made bending my leg near impossible for two weeks (which I treated myself, shhh don't tell my orthopedist), etc.

 

But in reality the answer is simply I SUCK!  I have allowed myself to fall into the post "I HAVE  ACHIEVED MY DREAM" doldrums.  Last year I logged the most miles that I have ever ridden in my life on the road (7746.26) and I've just been feeling worn out and unmotivated to get back out there.  I've been forgetting the reasons I started riding in the first place;

 

It's fun!

It's freedom!

I can make a difference!

 

So I'm happy to say I'm back and I'm getting back in the saddle and starting to pedal again to help those who need it.  For starters, I'm going to be part of the Bicycle Rescue Squad for the Doug Wood 5K Cross Country Run on April 13!  Its one of the reasons I wanted to join the Rescue Squad in the first place - to combine my passion for helping others with my passion for cycling.  Its my hope that by next year I'll be a fully certified EMT and I can really be even more of a help to folks.

 

Secondly, I'm joining my wife, daughter and one of my sons in shaving our heads for the annual St. Baldrick's event.  Amy and Sarah have formed a team called Bald and Beautiful and although they are beautiful, I'm just going to be bald.  The only problem is as of yet I haven't raised any money towards my $500 goal.  If any of you would like to help me get there, you can contribute to funding children's cancer research by clicking here.  C'mon, whose going to be the first?

 

Oh, and I got back on the bike today and rode in to work.  And that was fun.

 

So, I'm not dead yet, I'm coming back to life and I hope you'll all join me for the ride!

 

And to make sure I don't really die, at least I'm not dumb enough to do this on my commute;

Stay well and I'll see you on the road!