Your Laps Wouldn't Hardly Make No Sound

Here, on Halloween, not only is the moon full but we have recently learned, according to the brainiacs at NASA, water molecules have been discovered on its sunlit surface.   

While I suspect that for regular folks like me the discovery of water molecules on the moon's surface will likely have little impact on my day-to-day, its discovery intrigues me nonetheless.  It could turn out to be nothing.  It also could turn out to be important to astronauts on missions, whether to the moon or to a destination beyond it such as Mars.  I have run in enough races to appreciate the significance of a well-placed hydration stop.  

I suppose that it could also prove to be important for any developments Messrs. Bezos, Branson, or Musk might propose building there.  While I have never been a fan of a pool (I am an ocean boy through and through), if they can ever figure out the whole "zero gravity" issue, then the presence of water suggests that they could offer a pool as an amenity for a prospective buyer in "Sea of Tranquility Estates". Maybe even an infinity pool!  How cool would that be...again presuming they solve the riddle of how to keep you, your Speedo, and the water in which you are doggy-paddling attached to the Moon's surface.  

Actually, even if they do not figure out the solution to the whole "zero gravity" problem, swimming in your very own Moon infinity pool would still be a cool experience.  

It would simply be of the "once-in-a-lifetime" variety.

-AK 

  

Where The Dreams Have Remained And They've Turned Around

While I have no idea how many more games, if any, Coach Greg Schiano's Rutgers Scarlet Knights will win in Year One/Iteration Two, Hollywood could not have scripted a more perfect beginning to Coach's return to his home "on the banks".  

Saturday afternoon in East Lansing, Michigan, Rutgers broke its twenty-one-game Big Ten losing streak by taking the homestanding Spartans out behind the woodshed, 38-27.  Neither Coach Schiano nor his kids apparently took to heart the memo that listed them as two-touchdown underdogs. Instead, the Rutgers defense forced seven turnovers as the Scarlet Knights scored the game's first two touchdowns within the first ten minutes of the first quarter and never let the Spartans get closer than seven points thereafter. 

Irrespective of how the rest of 2020 plays out for Coach Schiano and his kids (the Big Ten East being slightly more difficult than either the AFC East or the NFC East this season, RU plays four of its next six games against opponents that are presently nationally-ranked), I have little doubt that the Scarlet Knights will have their share of days that resemble this season's opening game.  Having been an enormous Greg Schiano fan during his first tour of duty as RU's Head Coach, I applauded mightily when they worked out the deal to bring him back.  

Whether any football coach can win consistently at Rutgers, given its membership in what might be the most brutal division in college football, I know not.  I do know, however, if any coach can, it is the man who is doing the job right now.

Welcome back, Coach...  

Welcome back. 

-AK    

There's A Girl Over By The Water Fountain...

and she's asking to be mine. 

For the lapsed Catholic I am, the irony of my favorite song on the new Springsteen album, Letter to You, being "If I Was The Priest", is far too delicious to not embrace.  

Although the version of it that appears on the album is the first full-band rendition of it I have ever heard, its origins are found in a long ago and far away iteration of Springsteen's songwriting...  

 Well sweet Virgin Mary runs the Holy Grail saloon,

For a nickel she'll give you whiskey and a personally blessed balloon.

And the Holy Ghost is the host with the most and he runs the burlesque show

Where they let you in for free and they hit you when you go.

-If I Was The Priest

Bruce Springsteen

I was already overdue for Cheyenne.

-AK 

For The Chief, Once More With Feeling

A lifetime ago, I attended the same high school as Bridget Mary McCormack, Chief Justice of the Michigan Supreme Court, and Mary McCormack, award-winning actress and star of films including Private Parts and television shows including In Plain Sight, The Kids Are Alright, and The West Wing.  Two of the three of us have been honored as our high school Alma mater's Distinguished Alumni. The third one of us is me.  

Here in New Jersey, judges (including the Justices of our Supreme Court) are nominated by the Governor, and confirmed by the State Senate.  In Michigan, judges (including the Justices of its Supreme Court) are elected.  Eight years ago, Bridget Mary McCormack was elected to the Michigan Supreme Court.  In 2019, her colleagues on the Court selected her as Chief Justice.  Now, in 2020, she stands for re-election. 

Eight years ago, her sister Mary and several of Mary's friends and colleagues from The West Wing made what has always struck me as an exceptionally clever campaign ad for Bridget.  This year, they have done it again: 

Having known the Chief Justice for most of my life, I can say without hesitation that she is not only the type of jurist and lawyer who gives the legal profession a good name, she is the type of person who gives us humans a good name. If I lived in Michigan, I would vote for her on Tuesday.  

If you live in Michigan, then I hope you do. 

-AK 

As Ben E. King's Voice Fills The Air...

They say that love, it comes and goes

But darling what, what do they know

I'm reaching for heaven, we'll make it there

Darling it's just the power of prayer.

Baby it's just the power of prayer. 

Darling it's just the power of prayer.

"The Power of Prayer"

Bruce Springsteen

For the better part of the past three decades, as people who know my wife and me have struggled to understand what exactly is in it for her in our relationship, I have often deflected their comments by acknowledging that "once she sobers up, I'm in serious trouble", which is often good for a laugh.  

Proof perhaps of the old adage about the best humor containing a kernel of truth is how well-stocked I keep my liquor cabinet. Better safe than solo.  As a very wise man once observed, "A man has got to know his limitations."  

Today is Margaret's birthday.  I hope that it is as filled with joy for her as my days are filled with joy because of her.    She is an extraordinary woman, my wife.  I love her more than my limited language skills permit me to adequately express. 

Margaret at Uncle Vinnie's - 10/24/2020

Photo Credit: AK 

Happy Birthday, Shmoop.  

-AK 

#PrayForColorado

The State of Colorado is on fire.  Fires, historic in their scope, size, and ferocity, have raged across the state, in some instances for the past couple of months, and continue to rage.  This is a screen shot I took on Friday morning of the "Colorado Current Fires" map that the Colorado Division of Homeland Security and Emergency Management shared on-line, which map identified a half-dozen active wildfires between Denver and Colorado's border with its northern neighbor, Wyoming. 

CDHSEM Wildfire Map - October 23, 2020

I have a pronounced interest in what is happening in Colorado.  Four of the people on the planet who I love the most - the Colorado branch of the family tree - live in Fort Collins.  Watching news reports detailing the ongoing impact of the Cameron Peak Fire and the East Troublesome Fire on their lives gives me considerable pause.  It also exposes the greatest fallacy of parenthood, which is that as parents we shall always keep our children safe from all harm.  Rob, Jess, and their gorgeous girls will get through this just fine in spite of the fact that I am powerless to help them.  

Additionally, Boulder is one of my favorite places.  I have thoroughly enjoyed my almost four-decade affiliation with the University of Colorado, which first began when I was a 17 year-old high school senior and Jill transferred there to begin her sophomore year of college.  On Friday, October 16 while I was relaxing at the beach, I came across this photograph on Instagram:

View from Folsom Field - October 16, 2020

Photo credit: ferbozaphoto (Instagram)

The view of the Flatirons from the home side of Folsom Field is one that I first took in as an 18-year-old freshman in September of '85.  Until I saw this photograph, it had never broken my heart.  I believe - although I could be mistaken and I invite anyone to correct me if I am - that this photograph captured the Calwood Fire, which rages outside of Boulder. 

-AK 

  

I Have Said It Before & Now I Shall Say It Again

Ah, the repeat.  The intellectual equivalent of Saturday night's dinner being Tuesday night's leftover meatloaf (full disclosure demands that I acknowledge (a) meatloaf is in fact one of my favorite foods; and (b) a Congressional investigation would be launched if a single slice of Tuesday night's meatloaf lived to see Saturday night in my house).  

October 25 is one of my favorite dates on the calendar.  Thirty-four years ago, I was a sophomore at CU-Boulder and got to bear witness to the Buffs defeating the Nebraska Cornhuskers at Folsom Field for the first time since Eisenhower was in the White House.  It is a story I so enjoy telling that I shall do so again right here, right now...

Tuesday, October 25, 2016

10 25 86...Forever

Boulder Daily Camera

October 26, 1986

Thirty years ago today, I sat in the student section at Folsom Field and bore witness to what remains - three decades later - the most extraordinary sporting event I have ever watched live and in person. For on this very date thirty years ago, the Colorado Buffaloes sprung the upset on the third-ranked and undefeated Nebraska Cornhuskers.  Prior to that historic October afternoon, the Buffs had last defeated Nebraska anywhere in 1967.  Even more daunting was the fact that the Buffs had last successfully defended their home turf from the Huskers in 1960.   

At game's end, the scoreboard at the south end of Folsom Field read "20 - 10" and its lights remained illuminated for the week that followed.  Every night, after dinner, when eight or ten of us would head out to Farrand Field to play our daily, spirited game of two-hand touch, we would gaze to our east and see those lights as they continued to publish the game's result to the world.  It was as if the University was afraid that once the scoreboard's lights were dimmed, the game's result would somehow be invalidated.  

 They need not have been.  Thirty years later, it remains what it was, which was the foundation upon which a program was born.  

 I still smile simply thinking about it. And thinking about the coaches and the players who not only made it happen but who then shared the fruits of their hard work with those of us whose sole contribution was standing in the stands and cheering ourselves hoarse.  

 Best case of laryngitis I have ever had.  

 -AK 

Fun coda to the original telling of this tale.  In 2017, I ran in the Marine Corps Marathon, which took place on Sunday, October 22, 2017.  Shortly after completing it, Margaret and I hopped the Amtrak Acela home to New Jersey, with Jeff and Gidg (she ran it with me).  The next morning, the Missus and I got up, hopped into a mini-van we had rented, and commenced a three-day drive cross-country to Colorado so we could bring Rob a car full of his childhood treasures.  Two weeks to the day after the Marine Corps Marathon, I ran (along with Gidg, Stella, and Wilma) in the New York City Marathon. If you are eagerly awaiting the publication of my book "Why Driving Cross-Country Immediately Following After Completing One Marathon and Less Than Two Weeks Before Completing A Second Marathon Is The Best Training Plan Ever", buck up.  It will be a long time coming.  

Our stopping point for the night on the second day of our journey was a town called Lincoln, Nebraska. We ate dinner in a very nice little place downtown. 

As it was the eve of the anniversary of "20-10", I dressed appropriately.

AK in Lincoln, NE (10/24/2017)

It is still the most enjoyable spit-laden meal I have ever had. 

-AK 

A Sort of Homecoming

And your heart beats so slow,

Through the rain and falling snow

Across the fields of mourning 

Lights in the distance 

Ah, don't sorrow, no, don't weep

For tonight at last

I'm coming home

I'm coming home. 

-"A Sort of Homecoming"

U2

It is inarguable that not a whole lot of good has come to pass to date in 2020.  It is difficult for me to envision anyone who has been alive this year ever harkening back to this 366-day odyssey as "the good old days" in any "remember when" story.  Inasmuch as this Leap Year has lasted only a minute or two short of forever (and we still have 1/6 of it yet to navigate), someone should get to work on drafting legislation cancelling Leap Year for the foreseeable future.  Enough already. 

Among the bright spots this year, for me, has been the opportunity to support good people doing good things at my Alma mater, CU Boulder, by taking part in virtual events that would otherwise not have been virtual events but for COVID-19.  In June, I ran in the Buffs4Life Kyle MacIntosh Memorial Virtual 5K, legging my miles under the warm, humid New Jersey sun.  It was the first time in the event's history that it has been anything other than an in-person event held in Colorado.  This year was the first time I have ever been able to take part in it. Given that it raises money for a good cause and it honors the memory of an extraordinary young man, it was my pleasure and privilege to have been able to do my small part.  

Plus, they sent me a bib AND a medal!     

I have not yet run a single step and I am already getting prizes.  I shall not get a better deal than this any time soon. 

I hope that by June, 2021 life has returned to normal or at the very least a reasonable facsimile thereof.  Yet I hope that the 9th Annual Kyle MacIntosh Memorial 5K in 2021 includes a virtual component so that us Buffs who live almost 2,000 miles away and who spend our summers at the Jersey Shore can participate in it. 

This morning, I am running in the 2020 Wherever You Roam Virtual 5K, which is part of CU's "Homecoming & Family Weekends Wherever You Roam" celebration.  $5.00 of my entry fee has been earmarked for the Student Scholarship and Health and Wellness funds.  Given that I was getting up to run anyway, no reason why not to do a little something for someone else in the process.  

Enjoy your Saturday. 

-AK 

Kudos To These Two Utes

 And somewhere, Vinny Gambini smiles.

Full disclosure:  I would not know Spencer Cox or Chris Peterson if each sat down on either side of me at a diner counter to eat breakfast.  Other than learning earlier this week that Mr. Cox, who is presently Utah's Lieutenant Governor, is the Republican Party's gubernatorial candidate, and that Mr. Peterson, who is presently a Professor at University of Utah's Law School, is the Democratic Party's gubernatorial candidate in the great state of Utah, I do not know a single thing about either man.  Presumably, each has a stated position on any number of issues.  I know not what a single one of those positions is - for either candidate. 

For purposes of this essay, it matters not.  

To me, this is what matters: 

Spencer Cox and Chris Peterson Joint Commercial

"We Approve" 

And this as well: 

Spencer Cox and Chris Peterson Joint Commercial

"Support a Peaceful Transition of Power" 

-AK 

 

Oxford Rules

On October 1, 1962, James Meredith became the first African-American to enroll at the University of Mississippi. In spite of being subjected to what anyone else might have considered intolerably, overt racism, Mr. Meredith graduated from Ole Miss on August 18, 1963, with a degree in Political Science.    

The days immediately preceding his enrollment were marked by violence and riots on the campus in Oxford. Two people were killed. On September 30, 1962, President John F. Kennedy addressed the nation from the White House to discuss the "Situation at the University of Mississippi".  As we the people of these United States prepare for a Presidential election, twelve days away, in which one of the two major-party candidates (spoiler alert:  it is the incumbent) has repeatedly tried to cast doubt on the election's integrity and has steadfastly refused to state that he would accept its result, it might be time well spent to consider President Kennedy's words to the nation that evening:

Our Nation is founded on the principle that observance of the law

is the eternal safeguard of liberty and defiance of the law is the 

surest road to tyranny. The law which we obey includes the final 

rulings of the court, as well as enactments of our legislative bodies.

Even among law-abiding men few laws are universally loved,

but they are uniformly respected and not resisted. 

Americans are free, in short, to disagree with the law

but not to disobey it. 

For in a government of laws and not of men, 

no man, however prominent or powerful, 

and no mob, however unruly or boisterous, 

is entitled to defy a court of law. 

If this country should ever reach the point where any man 

or group of men by force or threat of force could long defy

the commands of our court and our Constitution, 

then no law would stand free from doubt, 

no judge would be sure of his writ, 

and no citizen would be safe from his neighbors...

I close therefore with this appeal to the students of the University, 

the people who are most concerned. 

You have a great tradition to uphold, a tradition of honor and courage

won on the field of battle and on the gridiron 

as well as the University campus. You have a new opportunity 

to show that you are men of patriotism and integrity. 

For the most effective means of upholding the law is not the 

State policeman or the marshals or the National Guard. 

It is you. 

It lies in your courage to accept those laws with which you disagree

as well as those with which you agree. 

The eyes of the Nation and of all the world are upon you and upon

all of us, and the honor of your University and State are in the balance. 

I am certain that the great majority of the students 

will uphold that honor.

-President John F. Kennedy (September 30, 1962)

Address on the Situation at the University of Mississippi

-AK 

  

You Gotta Be Tough, But That Ain't Enough...

It's all about soul.

While I was reading something on-line yesterday morning, I came across the trailer for "Soul", which is a Disney/Pixar film originally intended for release in theaters, but which now shall stream on Disney + beginning on Christmas.  

As someone who is proud to be Pop Pop to five extraordinary grandchildren, including three of whom whose attention can likely be held by a feature-length animated film (no disrespect intended towards Rylan or Shea but neither will even be a year old by Christmas Day), and as someone who has been a fan of animation for as long as I can remember, I cannot wait myself to see this film.  

Disney+ is not a streaming service to which the Missus and I subscribe in our house but methinks that it might be high time for a certain gentleman with a white beard to send it our direction. 

Good thing for me, I resemble just such a certain gentleman.  You did not think I was speaking of Santa Claus, did you?  You have to be on the "nice" list to get good stuff.  Over the years, I have received enough coal from St. Nick to qualify for my own zip code in Appalachia.  

I shall be so bold as to suggest that you take a break from the grind of your Wednesday for slightly less than the next three minutes and watch the trailer yourself.  Hopefully it will make you smile.  I know I did while I watched it. 

 

It is like the song says, "This life isn't fair, it's gonna get dark, it's gonna get cold. You've got to be tough, but that ain't enough".

It's all about soul. 

-AK 

Saturday Morning at the Barber Shop

One of the things I had to resolve when we bought our house in Lake Como was where to go for a haircut. I have really thick hair. If I do not cut it once every four weeks, it begins to lay in a thicker and thicker pile on top of my head.  "Chia Fathead" might well be a look that someone can pull off.  Sadly, I am not that someone. 

Luckily for me, I found Pat and his barber shop in Belmar.  He is an excellent barber. I get a great haircut at an extremely reasonable price.  In our current COVID-19 era, it is an incredibly safe experience. Only the customer getting the haircut is permitted inside the shop and only if the customer is wearing a mask and is not running a fever of any degree (your temperature is taken prior to entry).  Pat and his wing woman Mary Lou each wear a mask the entire time your hair is being cut and the barber chairs are sanitized after every customer.  

In a non-COVID-19 era, it is a lively little joint in which to spend some time - as I do once a month - early on a Friday or Saturday morning.  His shop is beautiful, adorned with too many great black-and-white photos to count, and there is always great music playing on the sound system. I get a kick out of simply listening to the conversations between Pat, the customer in his chair, and the other soon-to-be customers waiting our respective turns.  I hope that some day soon that again becomes part of my day-to-day. 

Saturday morning, I was at Pat's by 7:00 am in an attempt to ensure that I would be among his first customers when he opened at 7:30.  My work paid off.  I was the day's second customer.  As Pat cut my hair, the conversation turned to politics.  We talked about why he supports Donald Trump. We talked about why - although I have been a registered Republican since I first registered to vote thirty-five years ago - I do not support Mr. Trump.  We talked, as well, as a couple of middle-aged men about how disheartening each of us finds the current state of affairs to be in this country in terms of how people with differing points of view on any issue, politics included, have demonized one another.  No longer are people simply adversaries.  They have become enemies. Disagreements have become blood feuds. 

Ten minutes or so after I sat down, the haircut and the conversation wrapped.  As I paid Pat, he thanked me for the conversation.  I, in turn, thanked him.  I told him I would see him in a month or so and we could commiserate over the state of the world again.  He laughed and told me he was looking forward to it. 

Sitting in my car, post-haircut, it occurred to me that among the many problems we have in these United States, is a prepositional problem.  Once upon a time we talked "to" and "with" each other.  Now?  Far too often we talk "at", "over", and "past" each other.  Ours is not an inability to understand another's position.  It is an unwillingness to listen to it at all.  

It is an unwillingness to see anyone's point of view but our own... 

which might very well be the most dangerous type of blindness. 

-AK 

The Never-Ending Pursuit of a Modicum of Grace

 The basic question in middle age might be this:

How can I live the rest of my life with a modicum of grace?...

I have friends who have been searching in vain for two decades

for some simple explanation of the meaning of life. I'm convinced

there is no such meaning. I don't ask for the meaning of the song of

a bird or the rising of the sun on a misty morning. There they are,

they are beautiful, and I embrace them when I can. They are part

of living, and living does have a value. When we're gone, 

the world vanishes forever...

Knowing what you will soon lose makes living even more precious,

and the middle-aged man becomes infinitely more concerned with time.

I find myself more conscious of light, because light is the most primitive

measure of time; I spend as many hours as possible in the country,

where the movement of the sun is so much more obvious and poignant

than it is in the city. 

-Pete Hamill 

Esquire Magazine (June 1988)

While I spend little to no time in the country, I am constrained to spend as much time as I can at the beach for the sun's movement at the point of intersection between sea, sky, and surf is indeed much more obvious and poignant to me than it is anywhere else.  The older I get, the more I need it.  

This weekend the Missus did not join me as I retreated to our little Paradise by the Sea for the weekly recharging of the batteries.  After running very early Saturday morning and then running some errands, shortly after 11:00 am I took a walk up to the beach.  There were quite a lot of people running and walking on the boardwalk so, rather than join their number, I took off my flip-flops and walked south on the beach, down by the waterline, into Spring Lake.  I found a spot unencumbered by humans and their four-legged canine companions, sat down for a spell, and took in all that I could see. 

I sat quietly, alone except for the birds (and the occasional pup who popped over to say "Hello!" on his or her way home from a morning on the beach), for almost an hour, doing nothing but taking in the sun's warmth and the sea's sights and sounds.  You might not be able to tell from this photograph

...but I was feeling pretty good when I stood up, dusted myself off a bit, and headed home.  

I lack the wisdom to know whether it furthered my cause in pursuit of that elusive modicum of grace. I know, however, that I felt better when I stood up than I had when I sat down.  In my book, such time is the definition of time well spent. 

-AK 

A Good Day for a Sea Cruise

On this date in 1851, Herman Melville's masterpiece was published for the first time.  I have not read it in close to forty years.  I think I shall pick up a copy of it and read it again.  

Its lessons are timeless.  

Irrespective of whether you are a sailor...

-AK 

 

The Importance of Being Ernest

I had not anticipated waking up at the beach this morning.  This time last week, the forecast for this weekend looked pretty bleak.  Yesterday lived up to the hype - not just at the beach but throughout the State of Concrete Gardens.  Pretty much everywhere you looked, three of a species were standing around playing rock, papers, and scissors for the two seats on Noah's big boat.  

Today? 

Today is proof to me at least that weather has no memory.  Or, at the very least that it holds no grudges and hopes, perhaps, neither do we.

The greatest gig I have ever had - or shall ever have - is being a grandfather.  I am the proud "Pop Pop" to five - four girls and my man, Cal, who is too young to comprehend that he is outmanned and outgunned. He will figure it out.  

My grandchildren, in addition to reminding me that the charcoal briquette in the center of my chest is actually a heart, help me maintain perspective.  They are unflappable.  My oldest granddaughter, Maggie, must wear a mask in order to attend school.  She loves school.  She is whip-smart so although she knows damn well that a mask was not part of her school attire last year, its presence in her life this year has not kept her from attending school and from enjoying it.  For a little human, she possesses an uncanny ability to see the big picture.  Maybe it is because at her young age, she remains unjaded by life's day-to-day?  I know not.  I know simply that when I spend time with her, talking to her, it is an elixir for Pop Pop's cynical soul.  

None of my fabulous quintet of grandchildren is older than three.  Two of the five began their lives' journeys here in 2020.  A not-too-subtle reminder that even where things appear to be at their worst, there is always something in which to take comfort, in which to find hope.  

We the adult people of these United States should look to children, study how it is they go about their day-to-day, and follow their example.  Not only do many of them appear to be far better grounded than many adults, they are far more resilient than many of their full-grown counterparts too.  Sunday morning, I was in a bakery in Bound Brook to pick up a loaf of Italian bread for dinner.  In the less than five minutes I was inside the establishment, there were two other customers.  All three of us distanced ourselves from one another (spoiler alert:  I practiced social distancing for decades before it became the thing to do).  I knew neither of them but they knew each other.  Each of them appeared to be older than I am.  My best guess would be that each (one man and one woman) was north of seventy.  

It was immediately apparent that it had been some time since these two people had seen one another. Yet, for the entire time that I shared space with them and was within ear shot of their conversation, all either talked about was just how inconvenient it is to wear a mask.  It was the sum and substance of their conversation.  Not a word about family, work, or anything other than a lamentation - performed as a round - about how difficult it is to have to remember to wear a mask every time he or she leaves the house. 

As I walked back to Margaret's car (we were on our way to Costco when we stopped at the bakery), I wondered at what point it would occur to either of them what a profound waste of time their bitch session was - or if in fact it ever would.  Life is a forward-moving exercise.  Once time passes us, we cannot go back and reclaim it.  No one is making more of it.  Not for you.  Not for me.  

  

-AK 

Words of Wisdom from a Couple of Jersey Guys

In other words, focus simply and completely on winning today.  Fleetwood Mac might have exhorted us not to stop thinking about tomorrow but believe me when I tell you that thinking about tomorrow and stressing yourself out about tomorrow are not flip sides of the same coin.  They are two different beasts entirely.  

People defeat themselves in life as often, if not more often, than outside circumstances do.  They do so – in no small part – because they fail to appreciate the difference between Fear (Rule Number Six) and Panic (Rule Number Seven).  Worse still, they treat the two concepts as if they are identical and, therefore, interchangeable.  It is a common mistake – at least as common as the one many people make with Eagerness and Anxiety.  

But I digress.

 

Fear can be a beautiful and inspirational thing.  It fuels you.  It drives you.  It hones your commitment to the task at hand.  You want to know a good, short cheat test for whether you love the most important people in your life:  Ask yourself if it scares you - even for an eye-blink - to envision your life without them in it.  See, this is not calculus.  If it was, Pop Pop could not do it.  This stuff, unlike calculus, is easy.  Also, unlike calculus, you will actually use this stuff in your day-to-day.

Panic on the other hand is an unhealthy thing. It is an emotion that can kill you - and will if you let it. It deprives you of your ability to think clearly and cogently. More importantly, it turns off the logic and common sense part of your brain, which (whether you realize it or not)you likely rely upon countless times every day. It reduces you to a stimulus/response approach to life, for which you are ill-suited. Worst of all, you stop acting and start reacting. As your panic level ratchets up, and a solution to your problem appears to be disappearing along the horizon line, you realize you are no longer standing where you once were. You are now in quicksand. The more you struggle, the faster you sink.  

Best way to avoid such a nightmare scenario? Remove panic from your day-to-day. To steal a line from the great John Lennon, "It's easy if you try."  

So try, OK?  Do not devote a moment of your day - any day - to worrying about things you cannot control.  Harness your energy into maximizing the things you can control, such as time spent with those who love you and those who you love most of all, so that you extract from that time and from those experiences every smidgen of karmic B-12 possible.  Life is a contact sport after all.  You will need all the positive juju you can get to continue powering your way through it.  

Win Today.  Just that. Nothing more.  In doing so, you will accomplish as much as anyone in recorded history has ever accomplished. No one shall ever accomplish more. At day's end, tell those you love most and those who love you most of all just how much you love them, go to sleep, and wake up the next day rested and ready to win it.  

Remember, in Hollywood and on Bow Tie Greeting Cards life appears to be comprised solely of  "tentpole moments". In the world where you and I live our day-to-day we learn quite early on that life's magic is not found in its big things.  It is found in the realization that there are no big things and what we initially believed to be big things are an incalculable amount of little things, which often go by so fast that we blink at the risk of missing them.  

Live in the moment.  Win the day.  If you are so inclined, smoke a joint to take the edge off.  

Take it from a couple of battle-tested, weathered Jersey Guys, we know of which we speak.     

-AK 

  

 

 

Canaries in a Coalmine

Shortly after I commenced this exercise, not to be confused with the exercise that preceded it and ran for roughly a decade (think of it as The Fantasticks of the blogosphere), I expressed a sentiment in this space that I believe bears repeating...as much as I wish it did not.  

If anything, from my admittedly limited and selfish vantage point, the state of the union has deteriorated in the ten months since I wrote it.

Tuesday, December 24, 2019

It's Christmas Eve...

Today is the final day of the penultimate week of the second decade of the twenty-first century.  As I approach my fifty-third birthday, I am hard-pressed to remember a time in which we the people of these United States have needed Christmas Eve as much as we need it right now.  The need for it is not a religious thing.  I am not a religious man.  The Lord and I have an understanding.  He stays out of my day-to-day.  I return the favor. 

It is, however, a spiritual thing.  Here, in these United States, at a fundamental level, our collective spirit of what it means to be an American has been broken.  In this century of extraordinary technological advancement, have we actually made the world better for ourselves?  For our children?  For our grandchildren?  Respectfully, we have not.  

In a world of "instant everything" and being able to direct Alexa to cue up our "Netflix and chill" on any of our several personal devices, we have unquestionably created a world of greater convenience than that in which we were raised, the one in which our parents were raised, or the one in which our grandparents were raised.  At what cost, however, to the quality of our day-to-day?  Convenience and quality are not synonyms.  It is troubling, to me at least, the extent to which they have become mutually exclusive.

We embrace technology and the advances it has brought us, including the advances we never knew we needed such as the ability to order shoes or play Angry Birds using our smartphone while going to the bathroom.  At the same time, we have consciously and aggressively embraced ignorance.  Worse yet, we have embraced it to the point of weaponizing it.  Ah, the irony, which I have little doubt is lost on those to whose behavior it speaks most pointedly.  

When did we the people of these United States become a people who flaunt our unwillingness to be challenged by anyone with an opposing point of view?  Or by anyone who might want to simply educate us - even just a little bit?  Was it when we elected a President of the United States who wears his "I don't read" mantra as if it is a badge of honor?  I know not.  Perhaps.  On the other hand, perhaps his election was not its beginning but its culmination. 

I know simply that our weaponization of ignorance has permeated our politics at every level.  Political opponents are no longer rivals or even adversaries.  Now, they are enemy combatants. As such, they are not entitled to certain rights, such as engaging in fact-based, law-based, substantive debate on issues of importance.  Debate has been replaced by the rapid repetition of attacks, insults, and lies, aimed at reinforcing in the minds and hearts of supporters the idea that everything said by everyone on the other side of the issue is not only a lie but a lie aimed at taking an inalienable right away from them, or worse yet, manipulating them into surrendering it voluntarily.  

We have time to correct our course - right up to the point when we run out of it altogether.  Course correction is not a Democrat thing.  Course correction is not a Republican thing.  It is an American thing.  

I submit that it is a necessary thing.  Why not use today, Christmas Eve, the one day a year when we are the people we always hoped we would be, to begin it.  There is no time like the present, right? 

Especially on Christmas Eve. 

-AK 

True Strength

Had been spending a minute or ten thinking about the importance of staying strong and standing up for the things and the people in which you believe irrespective of whether that position is a popular one to espouse when I stumbled across this somewhere out there on Al Gore's invention...

I thought it defined true strength pretty succinctly and, truthfully, better than I could.  

-AK   

Occam's Razor

The simplest explanation is most likely the right one. 

-AK

A Friend is a Friend

I had the great good fortune a lifetime or so ago, when as a young man I embraced my inner Horace Greeley and went west to the University of Colorado, Boulder for college, to have fallen in with a group of people with whom, more than three decades later, I am still friends.  

These friendships, forged over seemingly endless amounts of alcohol, music, food, and conversation as much younger men and women, have endured over time although our in-person interaction with each other has been very limited.  Once college ended, we scattered to various parts of the world, and now, as men and women in our early-to-mid fifties, we remain encamped all across these United States.  Truthfully, it matters not.  For me, the bond made with each of them all those "not a gray hair in my beard or on my head" years ago remains inviolate.  

Today, one of those great humans, Dr. Alexander M. Schreiber (a/k/a "Schneedz"), celebrates his birthday. He is one of the most intense human beings I have ever known.  He is also one of the best.  Alex and I have been friends since he arrived on Farrand Hall's 4th floor in late August 1985 from New Orleans, accompanied by his dad, his kayak paddle, and his Chouinard ice ax, to find that he had been matched with Yours truly, who arrived solo from the State of Concrete Gardens never having been in a kayak and hoping like hell to never find myself in a situation where I would need to avail myself of an ice ax.  

Thirty-five years later, I count him among my most valued friends.  I hope over the years I have done enough for him to merit being thought of in a similar light.   

Happy Birthday, my friend.  All the best. 

-AK 

Fashioning Daylight Out Of Song

With its beauty and its cruelty

With its heartbreak and its joy

With its constantly giving birth to life

and to forces that destroy

And the infinite power of change

Alive in the world. 

-Jackson Browne 

Educating ourselves is hard.  It always has been.  If there is in fact a God or some other sort of all-knowing celestial body or being, then may it always be so.  Nothing worth having should be attained too easily.  

For too many of us, the appetite for hard work and bathing in our own sweat equity has diminished. It has been depleted by the seeming failure to attain an immediate reward upon completion of a particular task.  Where is our Participation Trophy? If none are being given out, then why the hell did we even get out of bed this morning?  

Discipline is what gets us up in the morning, out of bed, and out into the fray.  Here is the thing, when we actively participate in the world and make ourselves dive deep in order to examine issues in detail, to explore an argument's other side, and maybe - just maybe - learn to see something from a perspective other than our own, it turns out the Participation Trophy that our inner spoiled child believes it needs, has been there the entire time.   

We live it, in fact, every day.  

Life is indeed what you make it.  You are owed nothing. If you misapprehend that fact, and have done so right up until this precise moment in time, then stop doing it.  Now.  Life is a forward-moving exercise.  If yours is not where you want it to be, then own it, and own putting in the work necessary to improve it. 

-AK 

The Wichita Lineman is Still on the Line

I hear you singing in the wire

I can hear you thru the whine

And the Wichita lineman 

Is still on the line.

Fifty years ago this month, multiple members of an American university's football team died in an airplane crash.  The university was Wichita State.  On October 2, 1970 a plane carrying the team's coaches, administrators, and its twenty-two starting players to Logan, Utah for the Shockers' October 3rd game against Utah State University crashed into the mountains west of Denver. Thirty-one of the forty people on board died.  Included among the casualties was Malory W. Kimmel.  Kimmel was the team's long snapper and was riding on this plane only because his coaches had put him into the starting lineup - at center - for the first time.  On all other road trips, Kimmel had flown on the Shockers' other plane with the rest of the reserves. 

Mal Kimmel - Wichita State University

Photo Credit: Ste. Genevieve Herald

Mal Kimmel was twenty-one.  He was married.  His wife, Diane, a twenty-year-old college junior, was five months pregnant with the couple's first child, which information neither had yet shared with their parents.  Mal Kimmel died on October 2, 1970. He never had the chance to tell his parents they were going to be grandparents. He never got to meet and to hold his baby. 

Chris Connelly's piece, and the video that accompanies it, are available on the ESPN web site.  I commend both to your attention.  The events of that fateful early October day, a half-century ago, continue to ripple through time up to and including the present, profoundly impacting the daughter Mal Kimmel never got to meet and her daughter (his granddaughter)...

 

...and the Wichita lineman is still on the line.  

-AK