Back in the Saddle (Yet Again)!

So for those of you who know me well, you know that I am a transplanted Texan.  Even though I haven't lived there in 20 years (that would be twenty years this October), I still consider myself FROM Texas - Rick Perry and his pig-headedness notwithstanding.  And, despite the fact that I didn't live my whole life from there - in actually my father got stationed there while I was in high school and I graduated from C.E. Ellison high school with my friend James Deane (yes, that's right James Deane - a tall, thin red head who wanted to be an architect).

But there is one thing I have learned from one of my all-time favorite movies and that is, YOU CHOOSE WHO YOU WANT TO BE!



Or in an even more powerful version of the same message from this movie (sorry, it wouldn't let me embed this one);
http://youtu.be/YX5IOAoPt2A

or put even another way, there is this montage from some of the best movies of all time (including early Harry Potter when Peter O'Toole was still Dumbledore) which is entitled "Words of Wisdom from the Movies";



So what does this have to do with anything?  Well, we all make choices in life - I choose to still call myself a transplanted Texan since I did graduate from a Texas High School and a great Texas college - Southern Methodist University - home of the Mustangs!

I also choose to ride my bike.  When I was a kid I rode it for the sheer joy of it all, to get away, to taste freedom - the wind in my hair, the bugs in my teeth, the asphalt in my skin after a particularly spectacular crash!  Then in high school (while dad was stationed in Germany) my friends and I did it to explore, often ranging abroad for days exploring the European countryside.  When I moved to Texas I still rode my bike everywhere which made me somewhat of an oddity (okay, even odder than I already was)  since everyone else of junior and senior age was driving by then.  I was one of the only ones I knew who rode the big yellow limousine to school on a regular basis.

I stopped riding for a long time after that, not taking it up again until I lived in New Jersey and I often rode my bike to my job at Overpeck Stables in Leonia, NJ.  That's right, I was a stable boy.  Which is funny because even though I considered myself from Texas I had never really ridden a horse before.  I got that chance at Overpeck, although I mainly stuck to the theme and only rode Western style.  But I did get to take care of horse, mainly recuperating racehorses, and managed to get stomped on, dragged, shoved against the side of stalls and even peed on (yes, by a mare in heat - that was a fun day!) by various horses in the eight or so months that I worked there.  I had a car but whenever I could I would ride my bike since it was only ten miles or so.  Due to various reasons, I moved back to Texas but sold my bike when I left New Jersey.  It would be three years before I would ride again.

I chose to ride again because I sold my car (due to the fact I was living on campus and parking was a nightmare) and I got a Peugot hybrid which I loved.  It was the first new bike I had ever owned since I was a kid.  I rode it fairly religiously for about eight months before it was stolen from out in front of where I worked.  I ended up buying a Volkswagen Beetle (in which I once transported Paul Taylor and a couple of members of his company - long story!) which I drove until I moved back to New York to pursue my dream of being a dancer.  At that point I pretty much stopped riding since I didn't want to injure myself and thereby deprive myself of my livelihood.

Flash forward to eleven years ago.  I had found an old Miyata Triplecross hybrid bike at a garage sale for $50.  It was a bit big for me and it only had 18 speeds and flat handlebars but for me it was a great deal.  I bought it and started riding again around the streets of Smithtown where I was living.  We would put Sarah to sleep at about 5:00 in the evening and I would go and ride for an hour or so.  I gradually decided I wanted to start seriously riding again so I started scouring ebay, craigslist and the internet and got cycling shoes, clipless pedals, cycling shorts, cycling jerseys and started upgrading the bike.  I started riding it occasionally to work at Usdan in the summers much to my wife's chagrin (since I was riding on 25A for about 10 miles - a place second only in safety to the Boulevard of Death in Queens).

I never really commuted from Smithtown to Syosset on my bike but once I moved to Northport (only 15 miles away) three years later, I gave it a shot once or twice.  It was then that fate stepped in and saw me through, so to speak;



It just so happened that I got into a car accident at the corner of Pulaski and Lennox Avenue in Huntington Station.  My car would be out of commission for at least two weeks (it turned out to be three) and so I had to either figure out a way to get a ride to and from work every day or I would have to ride - and that began my love affair with the two-wheeler all over again.

I eventually found an old Diamondback Allure frame lying in the trash and put drop bars on and upgraded my pedals until I had my current Frankenbike which I affectionately call Black Pearl.  With Pearl I rode 2,000 commuting miles between Syosset and Northport in the 2007 calendar year and raised $13,000 for the American Cancer Society.  Then I used some Christmakuh money and gift cards from my birthday to buy myself a new frame and I was off to the races.  Well, not literally.  I still don't have the time to really train to race and as it stands now with my herniated disc I don't think I will (but that's another story).  I've had some guys that I used to ride with very nicely tell me I should race but that was when I was in a bit better shape than I am now - although today I felt AWESOME!

So what all this preamble is basically to say is that I have chosen to be a cyclist just as I have chosen to be a transplanted Texan.  And I like to ride just to ride - it clears my head, it pushes my body, it makes me feel alive, and sometimes it helps me deal with what can sometimes be overpowering emotions such as the passing of my brother David.  But most of all it has become part of who I am, much like it was when I was a kid.  I ride because it gives me a feeling of freedom that can't be matched.  Don't get me wrong - I love to dance and I love when I can perform a particular difficult piece of choreography and put emotion into it.  But bombing down a hill at 50 miles an hour (shhhhh, don't tell my wife) makes me feel as close as I can to actually flying.

Most of the time I ride by myself as part of my commute or I get up early in the morning (6:30 ish) and ride for two hours while the family is slowly stirring on the weekends.  I don't ride with the club as much anymore simply because leaving at 8:00, 8:30, or 9:00 (depending on the time of the year) is just too late in the day.  By the time I get to the meeting point, ride the 50 miles with the group, and then get home, five hours has passed and its now in the afternoon - the entire day is shot.  So I end up riding alone.  I don't really get to push myself as much but I get the miles in (1800 so far this year).

Today was different - today I got to get back in the saddle and ride with a pack - albeit a small one!  David Steinberg is a science teacher at good old SHS and he is also the advisor to the bike club.  Although they generally do almost all mountain bike rides, he and another colleague from school, Mike Borra,  had decided to do a flat century ride this year and so David asked my advice about a road bike.  I, of course, sent him to Adams Cyclery.  Chuck got him set up and apparently he had been riding all summer and dropped fifteen pounds (the bastard!).  He had mentioned that he was going to be riding with some friends today at 6:30 in the morning.  I asked if I could join them and he said sure.

The only problem was that today was also the Cow Harbor Race which meant the roads would be closed down about 8:30 in the morning so I would have to ride to the meeting place.  Which meant getting up at 5:15 IN THE MORNING on a Saturday!  Am I crazy or what??????  I got a good night's sleep (okay seven hours which for me is a long sleep) which still left me feeling much like this:



(Just a few minutes more......)

Now, I had pretty much prepared everything I would need for cycling at this ungodly hour the night before.  I even fully hydrated and put out all my clothing and lubed my bike and made sure everything was adjusted just so.  I silently got dressed in the half light, put the bike outside after making sure the tires were properly inflated and checked to see that everything was in order.  I then proceeded to get a little jolt of caffeine (shhhhh, don't tell my wife since I've been decaffeinated since Augsts) which becuase I haven't been partaking left me feeling something like this;



Ahhhhh, I have to admit it may be healthier to be decaffeinated but I do love my jolt!

So I suited up and headed out the door into the dark!  It was great.  I truly love riding at this time of day when there are hardly any cars on the road and it truly feels as if the entire road system belongs to me.  I had carefully looked at mapquest the day before and knew where the road was located and lo and behold it was closer than Sunrise - which is where I had made many rides during the summer.  It should have been a piece of cake.

And then God laughed.  I was lost.  The turn to the road was not where I thought it was supposed to be!!!!  Fortunately, my sister had purchased a Garmin Edge 705 for me which looks like this;

She bought it for me as a type of sponsorship for the cross country ride - to make sure I don't get lost in the middle of the desert!  Well, I wasn't in the middle of the desert but it was dark and I had no clue where I was.  It was then that the combined effort of Sts. Christopher (patron saint of travelers and Motorists), Madonna del Ghisallo (patron saint of cyclists) and Isidore (patron saint of technology) kicked in and I thought of my GPS unit!  I punched in the address of where I was supposed to meet them and lo and behold it showed me the way.  And I got there just in time to meet them coming down the street - and I thanked God (and the saints) for GPS!!!!!! 

I soon found out that I was riding with six other gentlemen, Dave Steinberg (who I knew) and five others I didn't know but found out that one was planning on riding 120 miles that day to train for an upcoming Ironman competition, another gentleman who had competed in an endurance event (where you ride for 24 hours) and a wiley and wirey older gentleman who obvious had game.  Dave pretty much played the role of rabbit and we all chased after him, pretty much averaging 20 mph the entire time.  Dave is an avid and experienced mountain biker (think Floyd Landis without all the races and without the testosterone patch) so he had the legs that day and was eager to stretch them.  I can't say I stayed on his wheel the entire time but I never got dropped off the back!  And for me that is a minor victory!

However all good things must end and this outing with the boys had to end at about 7:40 in the morning for me.  I looked at my GPS and realized that with the mileage I had already put in I had already logged 30 miles (and thought with a smile that the group I usually rode with at HBC hadn't even left yet) and I found myself in Smithtown (about 20 miles from Northport by the route I had in mind) so I thanked the boys for a great ride and headed home.  I pedaled like there was no tomorrow to try to get home before the roads closed at 8:30! 

I managed to get back to Northport at 8:20 and I hit the Dunkin' Donuts to bring home a treat for my sleepy family!  Nothing to sate you like some donuts and coffee after a loooong hard ride!  Forget about runs, America Rides on Dunkin'!!!!!  Of course since it was 1/4 from the start of the race it was packed with racers and family members caffeinating themselves beforehand.

I wove my way through the racers who were prepping for their race and I managed to get myself back in time to watch the race - and grab some more coffee!  Just in time to start watching the people run their race!  I was impressed with the times but hey, I already did my workout!

So I'm anxious to find more guys to ride with!  If there are any of you out there on Long Island who want to go for a spin, drop me a line.  Even if I don't race - I'm a cyclist, because I am who I choose to be!  And I feel confident that I can keep this progression and get more and more in shape to be ready to cross the good old U.S. of A. on the Black Pearl - especially since I don't have to do it at 20 mph!

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

10 Years After

Ten years ago the unimaginable happened - individuals who held an intense hatred for our country decided to use jet planes filled with passengers to kill even more people!  Their intent was to demoralize the American people and force us to acquiesce to their demands - whatever those demands might be.  They held a deep seated hatred for our freedoms and for a system of government that allowed people to determine (at least to a large extent) their own destinies - even if that determination was in a completely secular fashion.

Religious belief is a wonderful thing.  It can help us make sense out of our world, it can explain the mysteries of the cosmos, it can even bring peace to us at the end of our days.  What it can't and should not do is determine the entire zeitgeist of the world - particularly through the murders (and let's be serious here, that's all it was) of thousands of innocent people.

The title of this particular entry is Ten Years After and long ago there was an incredible band by the name of "Ten Years After".  Actually, technically there name was Alvin Lee and Ten Years After.  Anyway, about 40 years ago they recorded a song entitled, "I'd Like to Change the World".  While some of the lyrices of this song are completely out of place ("Dykes and Fairies" really is no longer appropriate unless you are using the words to refer to yourself as we are reminded by Father Roger Schmidt in The Laramie Project ) but so much of the rest of the song could have been written today.  Its funny how 40 years ago, the sentiments coming out of the Vietnam War, the Civil Rights Movement, The Oil Embargoes, and the Recession of the early 70's could still be applied today;



Ten years after what can truly be considered a cathartic moment for our nation, so much has left to be done in our country.  We are facing the biggest economic crisis in decades, our government is disfunctional, the unemployment rate is reaching astronomical proportions, and yet we are still embroiled in the blame game.  We even have people who wish to perpetuate the idae that this disaster was either staged or was somehow cuased by the U.S. Government in order to start a war against Islam.  Well for those of you who believe it was staged just remember these images;



9/11 will be for our generation what Pearl Harbor was for our grandparents and Kennedy's assasination was for our parents - we will always know where we were and what we were doing when we got the word of this tragedy.

For me, I was in a Production Practicum class in the Little Theatre with Megha Nabe, Katherine O'Connor, Megan Taggart, Jordan Ross and some other students whose names are slipping my memory right now.  This was in the time before EVERYONE (at least not me) had cell phones or smart phones so we weren't really sure what was happening.    My office is right off the Little Theatre so I became aware that someone was trying to call me and the phone kept ringing.  I finally excused myseflf from the class and answered the phone. 

It was Amy and she was in hysterics.  She was watching it all unfold on our television at home and she couldn't believe what was happening.  We had friends (Lauren and her husband David) who lived down in Batery Park and I had been working in 1 WTC only a few years ago for a little while because Goldman Sachs had kep an office there and I would sometimes have to go over there for my boss.  Now it was on fire and we didn't know what was going on with our friends.

And then she called later to tell me the second one had hit and it was clear it was on purpose.  A few of my kids had phones and started getting calls.  Right then and there the lesson was out the window and we started talking about what we knew.  Then she called again, the first tower had fallen.  I remember her being in hysterics and some of the kids as well becuase they had just gotten updates.  And then the second tower fell and we were struck by all the devestation that had just happened 40 miles away.

This was on a Tuesday morning and the rest of the day there were televisions going on in the faculty cafeteria, the library, every computer in the school was following what was happening.  Students were being picked up by fearful parents and everyone just wanted to be home with those they loved.  It was a day that was surreal and seemed as if it would never end.  But I know that part of what got me through the day until I could go home and be with my wife and my beautiful little girl was the support my theatre kids gave each other those terrible 40 minutes in the Little Theatre and the support they gave me.

Now it is ten years later and there are moments when those fears are still there.  I still find myself looking up at airplanes sometimes and wondering if I'm going to see them explode in mid-air or if they will start plummeting towards the ground.  Its a strange and terrifying thing to think about and to think that my children - the three of them now - will be growing up in a world in which we seem to be forgetting the lessons learned during that terrible time.  Forgetting that what saves us is our ability to pull together, to comfort each other, and to minister to each other in times of need.  When we lose our belief in our duty to help others, we lose our humanity.  Amy's uncle Arthure Gudeon is just such a man.  He never lost his belief in his duty to help others, even though it eventually cost him his health.  If you follow this link to the 9/11 Memorial website and the rescue and recovery page, you can find him.  Click on his podcast link and hear his story.

I guess thats one of the reasons I want to join the rescue squad at the Northport Fire Department.  Its something I've been wanting to do since 9/11 and now that my School District Administration duties are finished I think I might have the time.  I want to give back and I want to help others - I guess I always have and its part of why I became a teacher.  I think another reason was early on in my teacher studies I read the book To Serve Them All of My Days and to tell the truth, that's really what I think teaching should be about.  Its why I work at Sunrise Day Camp and why I want to help those kids by riding my bicycle across the country.  If I could only get some people to donate funds to the effort!

Okay, so you knew that it was going to have to come back to riding at some point right?  And today, to help me make sense out of my thoughts and feelings of what happened ten years ago I went for a ride.  Not a long 50-mile hammerfest mind you.  Just a nice 25 mile ride that would help me clear my head, provide me some catharsis, and push me to think how lucky I am to live in a country where I can come home and write down these thoughts and share them with whomever wishes to click on my blog.  America is a pretty amazing place.  Despite the crazy demonstrations, the crazy politics, the crazy trends and "reality" television shows (for which I sometimes feel bombing us is sort of justified), we live in a country where at the end of the day we can get on our bikes, wear spandex in public and express our displeasure with others by what we wear on our backs.

or maybe we won't ride anything at all;

And yes, in this country we do have that option as one of our freedoms!  But rest assured, in eight months when I embark on my 3600 mile journey to raise $50,000 for Sunrise Day Camp by riding my bicycle from San Diego, CA to Wheatley Heights, NY I will be FULLY clothed!

But today, as I rode in my Connor's Army bicycle jersey and watched the sun rising in the West on a new day that is so far removed from that tragic morning ten years ago there was a song playing through my head that was recorded and released about the same time as Ten Year's After's "I'd Like to Change the World".  That song is "Imagine" and it kept playing over and over in my head - but never as wonderfully as it sounded as performed by the man who wrote it (who also had a propensity for nudity as well), John Lennon;



And for those of you who still don't get his Liverpudlian accent after all these years, here are some important lyrics to know - the second verse and the chorus):

"Imagine there's no countries

It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace


You may say that I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one."

And those my friends are words to live by.  There are worse things that could be repeating themselves in your heads as you ride along!

Stay well and I will see you on the road!

And the World Spins Madly On/To All of Those I've Taught Before

So I have this song on my iPod that was introduced to me by a former extremely talented student named Heather Burian.  She choreographed an end of the year project that included this song as part of the mix and she made a cd for me that included the entire version. The name of the song is "The World Spins Madly On" and its by a group called the Weepies;



Today I listened to it as I rode my bike to school.  Its the first day of school and as has become my custom in the last few years, I ride the first day.  Today it was raining but I just bundled up in my plastic shell (its sort of like magic shell, just not as chocolatey) and headed out the door.

The ride was great (although squishy) and I arrived at school in time to dry myself off before I went into the Little Theater - the traditional early morning meeting place for members of the Association of Creative Thespians - our school drama club.

And I was immediately slapped in the face as surely and as palpably as if someone had done it like this;



What caused this incredible slap to the face?  The realization that the incredible young people I have watched grow, mature, blossom and soar with their incredible talent have gone off to bigger and better things (college).  As a teacher of now 15 years, I have never gotten used to this first day of seeing familiar faces, but not ALL the familiar faces.  Even the absence of the summer never really takes the edge off and this day always leaves me with a gaping hole in my heart.

And I see in my classes and in the hallways the new crop of actors that will come up in the next few years - the newest Phil Rosenberg, Emily Feinstein, Ally Grossman, Alex Mogil, Ally Giorgio, Jaimee Diamond, Erin Edelstein (or Edelle as she calls herself), Catherine Woodard, Louis Hatzipetrakos (see I can still spell it!), Dan Incalcaterra, Andrew Rubino, Megah Nabe, Jordan Ross, Katherine O'Connor, Jared Morgenstern, Caryn Lewi, Lyndsey Staib, Stephanie Israelson, Jillian Feinstein, Martina Bonolis, Robin Sutker, Alex Green, and so many others (please don't be offeneded if I didn't list your name here - after 15 years there have been so many of you!). 

But these newest editions (call them ACT 15.0 if you will) can never replace those that have gone before.  And then there are those former ACTers who can never be repeated because of their singular place in my heart: the entire graduating class of 1998 (my first ACT grads ever); the graduating class of 2000 (who made a huge banner for me congratulating me on my tenure!); the entire ACT group from 2001-2002 (those of us who pulled together and tried to make sense of 9/11); the graduating class of 2004 as we put together an awesome season of The Man Who Came to Dinner, West Side Story, and Romeo and Juliet; The Casts of the Laramie Project (both versions); the ACTers of 2007-2008 who were so supportive and helpful to me when I reached my goal of 2000 miles for Connor's Army.  And I could literally go on and on!

All of these kids who have gone through these halls, performed in the LT, had classes with me and performed on our main stage are indelibly printed in my memory - they are a part of who I am now as a teacher, a director, a person and most importantly a father.  I have been blessed over the years to have the best job ever - teaching young people who are so passionate (sometimes too much so) about what they do and who invest themselves (sometimes too much so) in what they do.  They put their trust in me that I won't make them look foolish and that I have their best interests at heart.  I really do try to do that on a daily basis with them.  Often times I am successful but there are those times I am not and those failures on my part also weigh on my heart and soul on days like today.  Will this be the year I get it right?  Will this be the year that I truly use their talents to the best of their ability?  Will this be the year I grow yet again as a teacher, director, father, person?  Can I manage to not destroy someone's confidence in their own unique talents and abilities?  The questions that weigh on my mind as I face my new charges are a swirling morass of uncertainty.

You have all taught me so much about being a person and following my own passions.  Connor's Army came about because you taught me to follow my heart.  You have taught me to try to listen to my own children better and be more patient with them and their zaniness.  I don't always succeed but becuase you have all loved them so much and have given them such examples of what I hope they can grow up to be, I am reminded daily to be patient with them and help nurture their passions - whatever those passions may be.  I may get stretched to the limit becuase of my obligations to ACT but working with you also reminds me every year why I have a family and why I love my wife and children so.

And I do know this - becuase of all of my ACTers who have come into my life I am better than I was, despite my numerous failings (and they are so many).  I know that I will have more failings in my life but I do believe in my heart that I am trying to do my best with all of my children and with my ACT kids and that I will always strive to be better.  When it comes to the time that I detest my job and I see all of these young, passionate people as mere pains in my ass it will become time to hang up my dance shoes, fold up my director's chair and make use of the School District Administration degree I now have waiting to be framed at home.  Once I lose the passion to help these kids be their best, its time to stop.

But for now I still love what I do - I still have the best job at Syosset High School and as I rode Black Pearl home in the drizzle I even relished the feel of the wet rain in my shorts because it reminded me that I am alive, I have a great family at school and I'm headed home to the best family I could ever hope to have - a loving wife, creative and passionate and beautiful children, and a warm, comfortable house.  Thank you ACT for making this life possible.

And so I ride my bike on the first day of school and I return home.  Some of the faces have changed, and the world spins madly on.

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

P.S. - If you are a former ACTer and you've made it this far - subscribe to my blog - I do talk about you all quite a bit!