Shhhhh.....

Yesterday morning I was doing a crossword puzzle and having some coffee before embarking on the ridiculously fun chore of leaf mitigaton (sarcasm people) and Mrs. N. walked in talking about something she had read about "you so might".

I didn't really catch the jist of the conversation because my mind was busy processing "you so might" and trying to figure out what the hell she was talking about. Then it dawned on me, she was talking about "Yosemite" Park.

I laughed and corrected her and she laughed at herself about what a dork she was. She also said not to tell anyone, but I am; at least here. Simply couldn't resist.

Naturally, my next inclination was to ask about "Yousomight Sam". Remember him? The short red-mustachiod cowboy who went up against Bugs Bunny periodically?

Anyway, don't tell anybody I told you.

Lessons Learned

Speaking of 15.......

When I was 15 I made a new friend. Jim. He was a terrifically funny and gregarious guy whom I met during Freshman high school soccer practice. I'm always a bit shy at first around new people yet he had a very easy way with them, and me. We became fast friends and quickly became inseparable. Together we thought we were the two funniest people ever and I still laugh about some of the things we did. (He was my partner in crime for this episode).

He was however, extremely moody and some days he could be downright mean to me. Plus, he would blow off plans and not return calls and it all started to get real old after a few years, so I began distancing myself from him before we went off to separate colleges. We still have mutual friends and we talked a few times in the '90s but we've grown apart. Other friends of his and mine have expressed the same frustration with him that I experienced so I was assured it wasn't "just me". He was just tough to be friends with even though he could be an absolute blast at times!

I learned something valuable from him shortly after meeting him, though. I learned generosity. At 15, 16 or 17 I remember going out with him to do something and he would treat. Or, he'd show up at my house bearing something to give me. Perhaps it was a sweatshirt he had that was cool, or he might buy me a music cassette. This was new ground to me. I never treated a friend to anything or showed up with a gift for no reason. Frankly, it hadn't occurred to me.

I feel I'm a generous person to this day as a result of knowing him. I'm apt to put money in the box at the register give a few bucks to someone down and out on the street. I'll treat friends to drinks or pay more than my share for a meal. Over the weekend when I went to the Jets game, I volunteered to drive and refused my buddy's help to pay for gas or tolls. Its just kind of how I've become, maybe to a fault.

I don't think that was in my nature, though. I think it was a learned thing and I appreciated being on the receiving end so I sort of adopted it as my own. It suits me fine, in any event.

In college I made another set of new friends that I have to this day. I learned a lot from my new friend John at that time . I think of him as a brother and know with every ounce of my being that there is nothing he wouldn't do for me if I asked. As a result, I would do anything for him if he asked. And he's asked. I've lent him significant money for a down payment on a truck when he hurting for a vehicle and needed one for a new job. I knew with him, friends and family always come first, and he'd do everything in his power to pay me back. Not for a second did I ever worry about not being paid back and he asked I would have forgiven the debt. But I also knew he would never ask.

John was the first friend (only one, I guess) to say "I love you" to me. It wasn't wasn't some drunken joke about being my butt-buddy or anything along those lines (although we've joked plenty about such things). It was direct and it was sincere and it opened my eyes as a 21-year-old-know-it-all such as myself. I had no problem saying it back to him in the sincerity with which he said it.

I noticed he never had a conversation with a member of his family without saying he loved them. Shortly before I met him, his father used John's social security number for some business and John ended up with a $6000 tax bill when his dad got sick. John paid it and never held a grudge against his dad even though his dad was obviously taking advantage of him for whatever reason. "He's my father" was his response when I said mentioned how screwed he got. I think that's way out of bounds and I could never go that far, but that was John.

Having said that, to a lesser degree than the last example, I learned an openness with my own brothers and family and friends for that matter. Maybe its just the way it is in other people's lives but it was something I had to learn. Its a lesson and a gift that he gave me that I'm not sure I would have learned if I never knew him.

Al Bundy

I wasn't sleeping great last night so I got up and channel surfed for a bit before settling on Married With Children on TBS. I always found the show funny and remember that when it was originally run it had a disclaimer about adult material even though now one can find it in the late afternoons during prime kiddie viewing hours.

But I digress.

Anyone marginally familiar with the show remembers the father's, Al Bundy, life hasn't turned out like he had hoped so he is constantly living in the past by reminiscing about his "four touchdown game" from high school. Sadly, and comically, he looks back at that moment as the pinnacle of his life. Its a recurring theme in the show.

The pinnacle of my life, thankfully, wouldn't have anything to do with athletics (marriage, family, child would win that category) but I was pondering that perhaps the pinnacle of my athletic life was at 15. Since then I've been a part of two championship softball teams and I've been in the local newspapers for some moderate softball success - all rewarding in itself --- but I think back fondly to being 15 year old athlete.

In the fall right after my birthday, I was selected to be on a traveling all-star soccer team. Soccer was never my love but I played because I liked it, was good at it, and it was my dad's game. He of the 1950 High School State Championship team. Anyway, around Thanksgiving that year we had a big game a few towns over that was actually in a mini stadium. The place held maybe 5,000 people and our little travel team put perhaps 700 in it. I remember the nice grass and perfectly flat, smooth playing surface with its dead-straight lines and beautiful white net goals.

Selfishly, I guess, I don't actually remember the result. I think we won, but I definitely know I scored! Keep in mind I was a fullback and my goal that day was struck from just inside the midfield line. I only had a few goals in my life since my job was defense, but on this big stage, with a large part of my family there (grandmother even), I scored. A big swooping blast found its way over an out-of-position goalie to the back corner of the net.

The accolades afterwards had me beaming wide and my father was so psyched up that there was something I never had the heart to tell him: I was merely trying to hit a streaking forward with a crossing pass! I missed it a bit to the right and luck was with me and it found the net. Mostly accidentally.

A great day, personally and combined with being selected to the All Star team therein completes part one of my glory days.

Come Spring, it was expected, of course, that I would play Spring soccer. I was all signed up and drafted to a team. I noticed a try-out sheet for Alumni baseball though. I wanted a last shot at baseball. I played when I was 8 and 9 but didn't deal well with the frequent failure of the sport so I left it. However, over the years it became more and more my true love. So I went and tried out for Alumni baseball and got drafted (I think everybody made a team, although I'm not positive). Anyway, that involved telling my dad I wouldn't play Spring soccer, which he had already signed me up and paid for. It was tough, but he was cool about it.

The game scared me. I was scared to fail and nervous as hell. I was scared about how much more talent I perceived the other kids to have since they had been playing 6 or so more years than me, but I LOVED it.

While I wasn't a polished player in any respect and despite not being the biggest kid by a longshot, I had raw power and hit a lot of home runs and extra base hits (I also struck out a lot). Plus I had a strong arm (this before my partially torn labrum of course) so I pitched as well. The season went by quickly and I had a blast! In the end, we won the championship. I still have the trophy!

So, while I've had a great deal of fun in my athletic endeavors, the age of 15 remains my Al Bundy moment.

How I spent my Sunday

I spent my Sunday with my buddy at the Jets game. Clear skies and 70-something degree temperatures hardly scream "football" but it was awesome! Jets won 26-14 and we had great seats.

See?

Anniversary Trip

I believe she was truly surprised when we got to the airport and found out we were going to Las Vegas.

We stayed in the pyramid spa suite at the Luxor complete with hot tub by the windows overlooking Las Vegas.

We had a nice (albeit pricey) dinner, gambled, toured the city and took a tour to the west rim of the Grand Canyon.

It was romantic. It was adult. And it was fun! But too quick. Now we're back to the real world.

Double Secret Vacation

I'm off on my ultra secret anniversary trip with the wife this weekend. I'm sure I'll post details when I return, but as of now, it needs to stay classified.

Can I trust you?

Hockey III

She was WAY better last night. I was so proud of her for continuing to try I practically had tears in my eyes. She shuffled around but didn't fall 1/10 as much as the first time and it began to look something like skating. It was only her second time! In my opinion, and perhaps I'm just a jaded father, she has exceptional balance, and one has to think that will pay off eventually.