Just pretend that this post occurs after the Wilfork post.
Told you I was listening to ZLX.
My brother Ed turned me on to that station just a few days ago.
I have been listening to it ever since.
The morning DJ's are hilarious, and they do this bit called the "senseless survey", which rocks.
They call people up randomly and tell them they are conducting a senseless survey - most people hear "census survey" and hang on the line to be questioned.
They get questions like "Ever wonder why the Grateful Dead were so good everyone had to be messed up to see them live?"..........Do you sometimes get sad Penguins can't fly but then you remember you don't have to clean their crap off of your car?...............Do you still need help opening a soy sauce pocket?...........Do you microwave hot sauce to make it hotter?..................Is a muffin just a cupcake you're allowed to eat for breakfast?"
The people being questioned get more leery as the questions progress but often keep on answering them.
It is hilarious.
One guy was immediately on the defensive. He said he didn't have time for a survey.
The DJ's buried him. They asked: "Are you a married guy who's wife and kids push you around? Is that why you don't have time?"
The guy told them he wasn't married.
The caller said: "You have no wife and kids and you don't have 30 seconds for a survey?"
The guy hung up.
Point #2 - my brother Ed also introduced me to Sunday morning blues, also on ZLX. He has been telling me about it for a very long time.
I am slow to pick up.
However, recently, I have been checking it out.
And it is magnificent.
If Carol ever divorced me I would marry the blues. That is how much I love the genre.
The point of my rambling is as follows.
My son Keith recently introduced me to 98.5 sports talk radio.
I have been listening to that a lot as well.
And laughing and digging it.
So here I am driving to my own private hell for two solid years now and all of a sudden I have two new radio stations to listen to and be entertained by and laugh with.
And a Sunday morning blues ride that penetrates directly into my soul.
Courtesy of my brother and my son.
You have to be open to change always and be willing to trust the opinions of the people you trust.
Friday, March 6, 2015
Now I Know..................
Now I know I love Vince Wilfork.
Wasn't sure yesterday; I am today.
Driving to The Asylum this morning listening to ZLX - 100.7 - they had put together an audio montage of Vince Wilfork moments.
It was awesome.
It hit me that all you need to inspire adulation is a montage - visual or audio. I am a sucker for that stuff.
You are too.
Are you kidding me? After Super Bowl XVIX - which was won by THE NEW ENGLAND PATRIOTS don't you know, I heard a million audio montages from the game.
All the key plays, cake frosted by the mega-interception by Malcolm Butler.
I ate that shit up. Over and over again.
Side note: I taped the Super Bowl. Had it sitting delectably on my DVR. Watched it twice. Planned on watching it a lot more.
Trouble. An HBO station was tiling up on us. Unwatchable. The tech dude came out.........................and had to replace the box.
I lost the Super Bowl.
Bummer. But I will get it back one way or another.
Anyway..........................I am smiling and laughing on my way to The Asylum this morning listening to Wilfork grab his third career interception, score a touchdown, make massive plays, get interviewed.
The DJ's told a great story - I hope it is true. They said when Wilfork was new to THE PATS, they interviewed him on air during a snowstorm. He was born and raised in Florida.
He bought himself a manly truck, put a plow on it - and was plowing Route 495 during the interview. Supposedly he didn't know you couldn't do that.
Great story.
Wilfork's twitter comments, summarized: "Please know how blessed my family and I have been to be able to play 11 years in New England for an amazing organization....................I have played 11 years for the greatest head coach ever......................I've played next to Men that I now have as brothers for a lifetime, a first class organization................................but regardless remember I will always remain a New Englander a Patriot forever."
Vince Wilfork has played his entire career up to this point with THE PATS.
I am sentimental. I am emotional. I am a soft touch when it comes to wearing my feelings on my sleeve.
I am now in love with Vince Wilfork.
Wasn't sure yesterday; I am today.
Driving to The Asylum this morning listening to ZLX - 100.7 - they had put together an audio montage of Vince Wilfork moments.
It was awesome.
It hit me that all you need to inspire adulation is a montage - visual or audio. I am a sucker for that stuff.
You are too.
Are you kidding me? After Super Bowl XVIX - which was won by THE NEW ENGLAND PATRIOTS don't you know, I heard a million audio montages from the game.
All the key plays, cake frosted by the mega-interception by Malcolm Butler.
I ate that shit up. Over and over again.
Side note: I taped the Super Bowl. Had it sitting delectably on my DVR. Watched it twice. Planned on watching it a lot more.
Trouble. An HBO station was tiling up on us. Unwatchable. The tech dude came out.........................and had to replace the box.
I lost the Super Bowl.
Bummer. But I will get it back one way or another.
Anyway..........................I am smiling and laughing on my way to The Asylum this morning listening to Wilfork grab his third career interception, score a touchdown, make massive plays, get interviewed.
The DJ's told a great story - I hope it is true. They said when Wilfork was new to THE PATS, they interviewed him on air during a snowstorm. He was born and raised in Florida.
He bought himself a manly truck, put a plow on it - and was plowing Route 495 during the interview. Supposedly he didn't know you couldn't do that.
Great story.
Wilfork's twitter comments, summarized: "Please know how blessed my family and I have been to be able to play 11 years in New England for an amazing organization....................I have played 11 years for the greatest head coach ever......................I've played next to Men that I now have as brothers for a lifetime, a first class organization................................but regardless remember I will always remain a New Englander a Patriot forever."
Vince Wilfork has played his entire career up to this point with THE PATS.
I am sentimental. I am emotional. I am a soft touch when it comes to wearing my feelings on my sleeve.
I am now in love with Vince Wilfork.
Thursday, March 5, 2015
Positive Beligerance
I always get a kick out of positive beligerance.
See it a lot in The Asylum where I work.
People come in to get their booze, you ask them how they are doing, and they say "Good. I'm doing good."
But they say it with a great deal of force - too much - over the top - kind of strained. Like they are trying to convince themselves that they are all right, or trying to convince everybody else - or both.
Life is a tricky deal and we are all actors.
Some better than others.
See it a lot in The Asylum where I work.
People come in to get their booze, you ask them how they are doing, and they say "Good. I'm doing good."
But they say it with a great deal of force - too much - over the top - kind of strained. Like they are trying to convince themselves that they are all right, or trying to convince everybody else - or both.
Life is a tricky deal and we are all actors.
Some better than others.
Vince Again
Vince Wilfork is leaving THE PATS.
I don't know how I feel about this.
I mean it does affect me on an emotional level becaus he seems like a cool guy, he's been around for a long time, got two rings, and apparently he's a beast on the defensive line.
I don't know enough about his position to really understand what he meant to the team but I intuit that he was enormously important.
Professional sports is a cold hearted business. It doesn't pay to get attached to an athlete because he will be traded at some point or finish his career on another team.
If it happened to Joe Montana and Joe Namath it will happen to anyone.
That's not why I am here today.
Driving home listening to 98.5 and the sports guys are ragging on Wilfork's published comments about how much he loved playing for this team.
I haven't read his statement yet because I am on my laptop and it is too hard to swip and swap around - this thing is a dinosaur (but I love it). But apparently his comments were pretty heartfelt.
These guys were ragging on Wilfork and the organization because it all seemed so sappy.
And yet a couple of weeks ago there was a lineup change on this very station. I am not tuned in to the details because I haven't been listening long enough, but one of the talk "teams" was splitting up. One guy was going to another job - same station, maybe not - I wasn't paying attention.
They made a huge deal out of it. Reminiscing, joking, laughing, talking, speaking fondly of their time together. After a break they came back and said that things had gotten emotional while they were off the air.
These guys talk tough, act tough, you know, the whole locker room mentality - nothing is sacred, no softness allowed.
My theory has always been that sports talk guys overcompenate for the fact that they are not athletes. They know what they do is nowhere near as cool as being a pro athlete so they project toughness in an attempt to be taken seriously.
I have no problem with this. These guys know more about sports than I ever will about anything. And they make me laugh. And I learn stuff.
I just have a problem with the disingenuousness of laughing at Wilfork's comments and mocking THE PATS organization - saying this is what Kraft promotes - sappy comments from his players - while they themselves get all teary eyed and sentimental because one of the team is moving on to another opportunity.
I don't have a problem with strong emotions connected with sports. I think it is a good thing. It makes it all more real.
These guys are larger than life. They are so far removed from us wee folk; genuine emotion bridges the gap somewhat.
The 98.5 guys played comments Kraft made when they signed Aaron Hernandez. Talking about how Hernandez donated $50,000 to the Myra Kraft fund. Kraft said a lot of emotional things about Hernandez. Hernandez said a lot of great things about Kraft and THE PATS.
Then of course he went on to become a crack smoking murderer.
The talk dudes tried to make the point that this is what THE PATS do. That the emotions are on display as PR.
I thought that was a low blow (but it was kind of funny listening to Kraft and Hernanadez play kissy face).
Anyway, Wilfork is moving on. I will mis him as a staple of THE PATS' D. As the belly jiggling big man - very large indeed - who was considered to be a major athlete.
The 98.5 guys should cut him some slack.
He showed emotion just as they did.
And I would be willing to bet that Wilfork's commitment and the sacrifice he has made is infinitely greater than anything these guys will ever do.
I don't know how I feel about this.
I mean it does affect me on an emotional level becaus he seems like a cool guy, he's been around for a long time, got two rings, and apparently he's a beast on the defensive line.
I don't know enough about his position to really understand what he meant to the team but I intuit that he was enormously important.
Professional sports is a cold hearted business. It doesn't pay to get attached to an athlete because he will be traded at some point or finish his career on another team.
If it happened to Joe Montana and Joe Namath it will happen to anyone.
That's not why I am here today.
Driving home listening to 98.5 and the sports guys are ragging on Wilfork's published comments about how much he loved playing for this team.
I haven't read his statement yet because I am on my laptop and it is too hard to swip and swap around - this thing is a dinosaur (but I love it). But apparently his comments were pretty heartfelt.
These guys were ragging on Wilfork and the organization because it all seemed so sappy.
And yet a couple of weeks ago there was a lineup change on this very station. I am not tuned in to the details because I haven't been listening long enough, but one of the talk "teams" was splitting up. One guy was going to another job - same station, maybe not - I wasn't paying attention.
They made a huge deal out of it. Reminiscing, joking, laughing, talking, speaking fondly of their time together. After a break they came back and said that things had gotten emotional while they were off the air.
These guys talk tough, act tough, you know, the whole locker room mentality - nothing is sacred, no softness allowed.
My theory has always been that sports talk guys overcompenate for the fact that they are not athletes. They know what they do is nowhere near as cool as being a pro athlete so they project toughness in an attempt to be taken seriously.
I have no problem with this. These guys know more about sports than I ever will about anything. And they make me laugh. And I learn stuff.
I just have a problem with the disingenuousness of laughing at Wilfork's comments and mocking THE PATS organization - saying this is what Kraft promotes - sappy comments from his players - while they themselves get all teary eyed and sentimental because one of the team is moving on to another opportunity.
I don't have a problem with strong emotions connected with sports. I think it is a good thing. It makes it all more real.
These guys are larger than life. They are so far removed from us wee folk; genuine emotion bridges the gap somewhat.
The 98.5 guys played comments Kraft made when they signed Aaron Hernandez. Talking about how Hernandez donated $50,000 to the Myra Kraft fund. Kraft said a lot of emotional things about Hernandez. Hernandez said a lot of great things about Kraft and THE PATS.
Then of course he went on to become a crack smoking murderer.
The talk dudes tried to make the point that this is what THE PATS do. That the emotions are on display as PR.
I thought that was a low blow (but it was kind of funny listening to Kraft and Hernanadez play kissy face).
Anyway, Wilfork is moving on. I will mis him as a staple of THE PATS' D. As the belly jiggling big man - very large indeed - who was considered to be a major athlete.
The 98.5 guys should cut him some slack.
He showed emotion just as they did.
And I would be willing to bet that Wilfork's commitment and the sacrifice he has made is infinitely greater than anything these guys will ever do.
Monday, March 2, 2015
Saturday
Carol and I drove up to Maine on Saturday to spend time with Cori, John and Kevin.
A round trip of 4 hours for a 3 hour visit.
This has never bothered us. The ride is easy and the company is supreme. Always.
What a deep and special and family type of day. It was our first visit since Sarge's memorial celebration.
We walked into that familiar home and the first thing we felt was Sarge not being there. Unsettling for sure, but it wasn't long before we were digging the power of family.
We settled down in the living room and started shooting the shit. Have to admit that seeing Kevin sitting in Sarge's recliner was a little disorienting, but knowing in our hearts how much Sarge meant to Kevin and how much Kevin did for Cori and Sarge when things got tough, made it more natural.
I got the feeling that Newman was restless. Newman was Sarge's cat; nobody else could get close to him. I noticed that he was upstairs and down stairs, checking us all out one by one, lying on the carpet, lying on the love seat next to Cori.
Cori said that Newman used to sleep at the foot of the bed at Sarge's feet. She said he still sleeps there even though she keeps explaining to him that there is nobody next to her anymore.
Cori has this plan of taking Sarge's T-shirts and having them made into a quilt. She asked Carol for advice on this, and Carol being the sweet and amazing Carol that she is did the research and brought her results up to Maine.
I noticed as she explained the options to Cori that Carol had trouble keeping it together.
Carol keeps it all inside; she doesn't talk to me about Sarge much at all and sheds very few public tears.
This bothers me because I want to comfort her as much as is possible. But her personal makeup doesn't allow it. It frustrates me.
We sat for a while and talked and kept an eye on the race. Very comfortable, very warm.
Then we went on a road trip.
Carol has got it in her head that she can convince me to retire at Old Orchard Beach, despite the fact that it is Maine and there is snow, and cold and wind.
Carol and I and Cori and John and Kevin piled into the Cori-mobile and drove through a few 55+ trailer parks real close by.
It was peacefully enjoyable. We drove up and down and all around, slowly checking out homes and roads and back yards and deer prints.
Talking, remarking, laughing, what-iffing.
I could do it. As long as I don't have to get up and shovel the snow with any urgency.
We would be right on the beach, and Carol and I love the beach and the relentless ocean waves.
Heaven.
We got out and walked the beach - all five of us - and it was tasty, even considering the fact that the wind was howling and it was goddamn cold.
Brought back a memory for Carol and me - not too long ago - when we and Cori and Sarge walked that very same beach on a viciously cold winter night.
Back to Cori and Sarge's home. We sat and talked some more. Inevitably, many hilarious stories involving Sarge came to the surface.
We laughed a lot, consumed by his memory.
Cori showed us sketches of the gravestone she is putting together for her and Sarge.
It was sad and it was reality.
Carol and I hit the road.
Got home early enough to enjoy D'Angelo's subs and our precious cats and three episodes of the new season of House of Cards.
That was a day.
A day that reinforced the power of family, no matter what the circumstance.
Pay attention, friends.
There are aspects of your life, of being alive, that trump jobs and careers and money and prestige.
A round trip of 4 hours for a 3 hour visit.
This has never bothered us. The ride is easy and the company is supreme. Always.
What a deep and special and family type of day. It was our first visit since Sarge's memorial celebration.
We walked into that familiar home and the first thing we felt was Sarge not being there. Unsettling for sure, but it wasn't long before we were digging the power of family.
We settled down in the living room and started shooting the shit. Have to admit that seeing Kevin sitting in Sarge's recliner was a little disorienting, but knowing in our hearts how much Sarge meant to Kevin and how much Kevin did for Cori and Sarge when things got tough, made it more natural.
I got the feeling that Newman was restless. Newman was Sarge's cat; nobody else could get close to him. I noticed that he was upstairs and down stairs, checking us all out one by one, lying on the carpet, lying on the love seat next to Cori.
Cori said that Newman used to sleep at the foot of the bed at Sarge's feet. She said he still sleeps there even though she keeps explaining to him that there is nobody next to her anymore.
Cori has this plan of taking Sarge's T-shirts and having them made into a quilt. She asked Carol for advice on this, and Carol being the sweet and amazing Carol that she is did the research and brought her results up to Maine.
I noticed as she explained the options to Cori that Carol had trouble keeping it together.
Carol keeps it all inside; she doesn't talk to me about Sarge much at all and sheds very few public tears.
This bothers me because I want to comfort her as much as is possible. But her personal makeup doesn't allow it. It frustrates me.
We sat for a while and talked and kept an eye on the race. Very comfortable, very warm.
Then we went on a road trip.
Carol has got it in her head that she can convince me to retire at Old Orchard Beach, despite the fact that it is Maine and there is snow, and cold and wind.
Carol and I and Cori and John and Kevin piled into the Cori-mobile and drove through a few 55+ trailer parks real close by.
It was peacefully enjoyable. We drove up and down and all around, slowly checking out homes and roads and back yards and deer prints.
Talking, remarking, laughing, what-iffing.
I could do it. As long as I don't have to get up and shovel the snow with any urgency.
We would be right on the beach, and Carol and I love the beach and the relentless ocean waves.
Heaven.
We got out and walked the beach - all five of us - and it was tasty, even considering the fact that the wind was howling and it was goddamn cold.
Brought back a memory for Carol and me - not too long ago - when we and Cori and Sarge walked that very same beach on a viciously cold winter night.
Back to Cori and Sarge's home. We sat and talked some more. Inevitably, many hilarious stories involving Sarge came to the surface.
We laughed a lot, consumed by his memory.
Cori showed us sketches of the gravestone she is putting together for her and Sarge.
It was sad and it was reality.
Carol and I hit the road.
Got home early enough to enjoy D'Angelo's subs and our precious cats and three episodes of the new season of House of Cards.
That was a day.
A day that reinforced the power of family, no matter what the circumstance.
Pay attention, friends.
There are aspects of your life, of being alive, that trump jobs and careers and money and prestige.
Second Thoughts
Those of you who pay any attention at all to this blog will notice that I deleted the 03/01 post about how I wasted the month of February.
It was self-indulgent, whiny, weak and self pitying to the point of projectile vomiting.
So let's start again.
The deaths of my brother-in-law Sarge and my nephew Jonathan weigh heavy on my mind. I am fiercely committed to not insulting their lives with my whining.
After I posted those words on 03/01, I thought about what I said. I thought about that after driving up to Maine on Saturday to visit Cori and John and Kevin. Having a great visit while simultaneously being unable to ignore Sarge's void. I thought about it after having a couple of conversations with my brother yesterday.
I am irrevocably committed to speaking substance in 2015. To making something worthwhile of myself and my life, partially in honor of the lives that Jonathan and Sarge lived.
In hindsight, I had no choice but to delete what I wrote on 3/01. It was self indulgent garbage.
Let's pretend that today is March 1, 2015.
It is a new month. A new start. In keeping with my month to month philosophy in 2015, I am jazzed.
Been a tough winter no doubt.
But March brings spring. And spring is what I and every inhabitant of New England crave.
It is going to get warmer. It is going to get prettier. It is going to get easier.
This new month promises a transition into life as it should be lived. Comfortably. Slowly. Deliciously.
In T-shirts and shorts. In suntans and sweat.
It is coming back around.
I am going to do the best I can do with the month of March.
I hope you do too.
I hope you enjoy it.
It was self-indulgent, whiny, weak and self pitying to the point of projectile vomiting.
So let's start again.
The deaths of my brother-in-law Sarge and my nephew Jonathan weigh heavy on my mind. I am fiercely committed to not insulting their lives with my whining.
After I posted those words on 03/01, I thought about what I said. I thought about that after driving up to Maine on Saturday to visit Cori and John and Kevin. Having a great visit while simultaneously being unable to ignore Sarge's void. I thought about it after having a couple of conversations with my brother yesterday.
I am irrevocably committed to speaking substance in 2015. To making something worthwhile of myself and my life, partially in honor of the lives that Jonathan and Sarge lived.
In hindsight, I had no choice but to delete what I wrote on 3/01. It was self indulgent garbage.
Let's pretend that today is March 1, 2015.
It is a new month. A new start. In keeping with my month to month philosophy in 2015, I am jazzed.
Been a tough winter no doubt.
But March brings spring. And spring is what I and every inhabitant of New England crave.
It is going to get warmer. It is going to get prettier. It is going to get easier.
This new month promises a transition into life as it should be lived. Comfortably. Slowly. Deliciously.
In T-shirts and shorts. In suntans and sweat.
It is coming back around.
I am going to do the best I can do with the month of March.
I hope you do too.
I hope you enjoy it.
Sunday, March 1, 2015
Dig
"As societies grow decadent, the language grows decadent, too. Words are used to disguise, not to illuminate, action: you liberate a city by destroying it. Words are to confuse, so at election time people will solemnly vote against their own interests."
Gore Vidal
Gore Vidal
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