Remarkable Sobriety

 

Bryce Brooks did not know Arthur Ashe.  He could not have.  Arthur Ashe died a bit more than thirty years ago.  Bryce Brooks lived only sixteen years.  In spite of having never made his acquaintance, young Mr. Brooks personified Mr. Ashe's definition of heroism. 

An honor roll student at Maynard Jackson High School in Atlanta, Georgia, Bryce was on vacation with his family in Pensacola, Florida the first week of April.  While relaxing on the beach with his family, he saw four teenagers - strangers to him - struggling in the Gulf of Mexico.  He dived into the water to rescue them.  

Bryce Brooks' heroism saved their lives.  It cost him his life.  His mother, Crystal, speaking of a son whose resemblance to Arthur Ashe went far beyond their alliterative names, said, "We're never gonna get to see Bryce grow up to be the full man that he was going to be.  But, we know that he stepped into his manhood to save these children, and that makes me proud.  It doesn't take away an ounce of pain, but it makes me proud of our son." 

If there is a greater disturbance to the Universe's natural order than a parent outliving her child, then I am not aware of it.   May it be a source of solace to the family of this young man that his life, which tragically lacked length, was a life of breadth and depth.  

Perhaps, having not shared time and space in this life, these two extraordinary souls shall have the chance to get to know one another in the next one.   

-AK

 

Seventy and Counting

 

On the last night on which I saw Mom, which was roughly two months before her death, we sat on the couch in her living room in Jupiter, Florida and watched the second National Semi-Final of the NCAA Men's Basketball Final Four.   North Carolina defeated Oregon in what was a really fun game.  The game ended late (the 2017 Final Four was in Phoenix, Arizona) and we each struggled to stay awake.  We made it to game's end at which time I kissed her good night, knowing I had an early flight home on Sunday morning.  

Mom was a sports fan.  We spent too many hours for me to accurately calculate watching sports together on tv.  During my high school years, when the only network on which to watch the NCAA Tournament was CBS, we used to sit up together late in our living room in Neshanic Station, New Jersey watching whatever late game from the West Region was being played on that Thursday or Friday night.  

Forty-plus years later, I smile still at that memory.  Tonight, the NCAA Men's Basketball season shall end in the National Championship Game in Houston, Texas.  Full disclosure demands my acknowledgement that I do not know the name of a single player in this year's Final Four.  Nonetheless, I shall put the game on - for at least a little while - just to see it...

...and I shall save a spot on the couch.  

-AK 

A Celebratory Pause

I have the great good fortune of being a parent of two extraordinary humans.  Each of them has the great good fortune of carrying not even one strand of my DNA.  Not a smidge.  There are certain of us whose genetic line should end upon our tripping of the mortal coil.  I am one such human.  

Today, my son Rob celebrates his birthday.  I am more proud of the man he is than I can ever adequately express.   May today bring him the happiness, the love, and the peace that he deserves.  He has earned every bit of it.

While I have no desire to speed-dial through the summer I am excited by the prospect of spending a night or two (or three) with him towards summer’s end in the Swamps of Jersey seeing Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band. Almost a quarter century ago, way back when on August 9, 1999 I took him to his first Springsteen show.  It was on the Reunion tour.  We had seats directly behind the stage in the very last row of the upper tier in Byrne Arena.  We loved every minute of it. 

In the years since we have seen Springsteen in Jersey, New York City, Philly, North Carolina, and Denver.  We saw Springsteen on Broadway together towards the end of its run.  I love that we have bonded through Bruce’s music.  It has provided me - a man not particularly adept at expressing my feelings towards my son and raised by a man who was even less adept at it than am I - with a conduit through which I could connect with my son.  

Happy Birthday, Rob.  Much love.  Today.  Tomorrow.  Always.  

-AK

The Birthday Crew

I lived under the same roof as my father for just the first fourteen years of my life.  Dad died on May 31, 1981.  He was just fifty-seven years old.   

Margaret and I, for the past ten years, lived with my father-in-law, Joe.  Not too long after he bade farewell far too soon to his beloved Suzy B. in June 2009, he started asking Margaret if we would sell our house and move across town and in with him.  It is the house where Margaret was born and raised.  It is the house where she and the kids were living way back when we started dating in June 1991.  

Living under the same roof as my father-in-law has been an educational experience for me.  He has taught me a lot.  I marvel at his courage.  In the past fifteen years he has buried his mother-in-law, his siblings, and his wife.  Yet, he has endured.  Hell, he has done far more than simply endure.  He has lived.  

Today is Joe’s birthday.  He is ninety years old.  Way back when, in 2018, he celebrated it with Maggie.  She was slightly less than eleven months old and it was the first birthday of his they celebrated together.  

Joe Joe and Maggie - BDay #85

(2018)

Yesterday, we celebrated his 90th birthday with Salli Jo joining us from the NY side of the Hudson, Suzanne, Ryan, and all three of Joe Joe’s Watchung great grandchildren:

Joe, Maggie, Cal & Rylan

(BDay #90 - 2023)

This Fab Four not only posed for photos together, they combined their voices to sing a rousing rendition of “Happy Birthday” and their lungs to blow out the candles on the birthday boy’s cake.

Team Candle Power

(BDay #90 - 2023)

Not every day is one on which I get to see these three of my grandchildren blowing out birthday candles with their great grandfather.  Yesterday was such a day.   I am forever grateful. 

-AK

Yes, Ash Can!

This weekend Steve Ashton, Donna Ashton, and their group of Bad-Ash Brewers are celebrating their 3rd Anniversary.  

When you have the courage, the temerity, and frankly the balls to pursue your dream in the face of a pandemic, you automatically become impossibly easy people for whom to root. 

NJ.com (March 2020) 

I have had the great good fortune of knowing Steve Ashton for close to forty-five years.  We first met when I transferred into Wardlaw-Hartridge for 5th grade in September 1977.  We played soccer together in high school.  We graduated from W-H together in 1985.  Then, four years later we graduated together from the University of Colorado, Boulder.  

Having lived in Middlesex Borough for thirty years, when Steve told me he/Donna were going to open their brewery in the space on Lincoln Boulevard formerly occupied by the late but-never-great Demented Brewing, I honestly questioned the wisdom of their decision.  Middlesex Borough is not now - and has not been for quite some time - at the center of economic development.  Trust me.  I have spent enough years logging miles running through its streets to know that a significant percentage of our businesses and commercial endeavors are in fact empty spaces.  

Ashton Brewing opened for business in late March 2020 on a Friday roughly two weeks after Governor Murphy issued the Public Emergency Order that locked New Jersey down in COVID's early days.  To purchase beer, you had to go onto their website, confirm you were of legal drinking age, and then include in your order the make and model of the car in which you were picking up your beer.  No one was permitted inside of the building.  Instead, when you pulled up in your car, your order was delivered to you.  Looking back, it was the best drive-thru window ever! 

I was working remotely back then, which meant that I was only about one mile away from the Brewery on Opening Day.  I was Customer #4.  I bought two growlers (one each of two different types of beer), a chalice, and a car magnet.   

Ashton Brewing Growlers 

(March 2020) 

Margaret and I still have the growlers in our garage. I still have the chalice and the car magnet but the beers were in my belly shortly after I opened the growlers.  Thankfully, in the three years since, Ashton Brewing has just kept making more and more types of great beer, a number of which have also found their way into my belly.

First-ever Ashton Brewing beer 

(March 2020)

Happy 3rd Anniversary, Ashton Brewing and thank you for the Kick-Ash Beers.  Middlesex Borough is better for your being part of its community.  

Cheers! 

-AK 

And Then There Were Five

March 24, 2018 was a Saturday.  How do I know?  I know because it was on that day - five years ago - three weeks after we bade farewell to our beloved Rosalita that Joe, Margaret, and I drove up to Berkeley Heights and Home For Good Dogs Rescue.  It was there that Joe laid his eyes on Sam.  As they say, the rest is history...

Margaret, Joe, Sam and I

Home For Good Dogs Rescue 

(March 24, 2018)

She was just twelve weeks old when Joe chose her on that Saturday afternoon five years ago.  We have been lucky to have her.  She is an integral part of our family.  Frankly, to me she has proven to be more than man's best friend.  She has proven to be indispensable.  Anyone who knows me can attest to the fact that with few exceptions, I prefer Sam's company to that of most humans.  Whether it is our nightly (and eight-to-ten times every Saturday and Sunday) Dingo sessions or our regular runs, Sam is critically important to my mental health.  And during COVID lockdown, her importance was not just to my mental health, but to that of our whole household.

Front Porch Photo 

(2020) 

Five years already.  The time has passed in an eyeblink.  Too fast in fact.  Here's to today and every day with our best girl.  

Sam I Am and Yours Truly 

(March 5, 2023) 

-AK

  

Checks, Reality and Otherwise

 As it turns out, he is not the only sufferer.  Also, he is not wrong...

However, wherever, and with whomever you spend your St. Patrick's Day, be careful out there.  And whether you are Irish every day or merely Irish for the day, today being St. Patrick's Day is not an excuse to be a drunken asshole.  It is that whole "keeping the do what makes you happy thing in check"  thing in action.  

-AK