Guilt

Walked outside to get Carol's paper this morning.

It was 8 degrees with a howling wind. I gotta believe the wind chill was 3,188 degrees below.

In the three minutes it took to walk out and back, my cheeks froze in a grotesque parody of a smile.

In Glendale Arizona it is 54 degrees with a projected high today of 65. That's not as warm as I expected but it is light years away from where New England is at.

Glendale Arizona is where I am supposed to be.

It is warm. THE PATS are playing in the Super Bowl.

Why wouldn't I be there?

I have to admit I am disappointed with my sons.

In October they marshaled their considerable financial resources to send me to the second to last Allman Brothers concert ever to be held in the history of the world - in NYC.

Interestingly enough, Keith and Craig's incomes are exactly the same, even though they toil in completely different industries.

They each earn $14 million annually.

What a magnificent gift, what an incredible trip that was. Me and my longest standing friend in my life, Mr. Phil Camerlengo, meeting up in New York City to dig on the band that has kept us young and interesting for 45 years.

Amazing.

I'm sure my sons figured they had raised the bar as high as it could go. That they had done something for me that I could appreciate deeply, and would never forget for the rest of my days on earth.

Wrong.

They established a base from which to improve upon.

I knew THE PATS were going back to the Super Bowl. I was secure in my gut feeling. Even during the Baltimore game my gut calmed me into football serenity.

When THE PATS destroyed the colts, I sat back with a smug smile, a cold beer, a short whiskey and an excited air of expectancy, waiting for the phone to ring.

I knew it would not ring that night. You gotta absorb the reality, adjust your focus to championship levels and allow the excitement to subside into every day survival mode for two weeks.

Besides there are logistics. You gotta do research, you gotta plan ahead, you gotta coordinate and communicate, you gotta free up funds.

It takes time.

A few days later I became concerned. There was no phone call.

I had spent the intervening time rehearsing the feigned excitement I would project over the phone.

A conference call. "Dad - it's Keith and Craig. Guess what? We got you two tickets to Glendale. You and Mom are going to the Super Bowl."

"What? What are you talking about? Are you serious? What a surprise." As I smiled in smug satisfaction and expectation realized.

Today is the day before the Super Bowl. Still no call.

I just went to Stub Hub. There are 181 tickets left priced from $10,000.

I don't know what the problem is. $10,000 is not even one week's paycheck for either of my sons. I don't think $20,000 is to dear a price to pay to purchase happiness for their frail and tired and aging parents.

Apparently they have become selfish.

That's all right. It is what it is.

We'll go to Keith's house tomorrow to watch the game. We'll pretend to be enjoying ourselves.

However, I am going to sneak unapproved snacks to Cooper and Jack at every opportunity. I have already arranged for a friend of questionable character to raid Craig's house to appropriate his infamous shoe collection.

I am not a father to be messed with.

I look forward to 2015 and enjoying the Bruins in the Stanley Cup finals, the Sox in the World Series, tennis at Wimbledon, golf at the U.S. Open, a couple of Mumford & Sons concerts, a couple of Ray LaMontagne concerts, a nationwide blues tour, and front row seats to The Stones  and U2 if the come around.

Courtesy of my loving and respectful sons.

Guilt is a powerful motivator. Really it can be applied as a synonym for love.

I really love my sons.

Small Talk

Inhabited the recliner for the 5:00 to 6:30 slot before cooking supper last night.

You know, "Around The Horn, PTI," miscellaneous. Flipping back and forth between ESPN and the NFL Network.

Caught coverage of THE PATS' plane landing in Arizona. Watched them "de-plane." Got excited.

I do not apologize for this. This is the approach I am taking this week. I am going to watch a lot of coverage. I will laugh at stupidity, wallow in sentimentality and ride a wave of excitement.

I do get caught up in seemingly silly things. Like getting excited at watching THE PATS walk off their plane. I refuse to be embarrassed by this. Instead, this year I champion my obsession.

It is the goddamn Super Bowl for Christ sake, and I am going to wrestle every moment of anticipation and future memory out of the event. I will do it my way and dig what I dig with an easy grace and an emotions on my sleeve boldness.

Got a kick out of the de-planning commentary, though. Andrew Siciliano. I have to believe he was doing it tongue in cheek. I think he is too smart to "report" details like "Looks like Brady is wearing a scarf."

Turned out Brady had a pair of high priced headphones draped around his neck, which Jamie Dukes did not hesitate to point out.

I sense tension on the set - always - when Siciliano is the anchor. I  think the ex-athlete/sportscasters do not like him. I don't. He is obnoxious. It is obvious to me that Mike Mayock despises him. Then again Mike Mayock is a bit of a turd himself. Got that old school tough football guy mentality and no sense of humor.

Siciliano noted "Here comes Vince Wilfork all dressed in black."

To which Solomon Wilcots remarked "Very slimming."

I'm pumped. Forgot to watch the 8:00 p.m. Brady/Belichick press conference last night. Carol and I were watching "Rescue Me" on Netflix.

We are flying through every season every episode. We loved it when it was on the air and we are digging it on Netflix.

Great show.

Anyway, it is Tuesday already. FYI the Super Bowl is on Sunday.

Luckily I have today off. Carol does too. Snow, baby - snow. The only thing it is good for is panic and bonus days off.

Frankly I am stunned. The NH State Liquor Commission has proved over and over again that they do not give a damn about their employees in any way, shape, form or manner. I have driven white knuckled to work through blizzards so many times it makes me nauseous to think about it.

So the store can rake in $118 in sales.

I have it on good advice that it took some high level prodding to get these bozos to close the stores today and that they did it hours after every other state run agency had already announced closings.

Cannot wait to escape their evil, greasy clutches.

BUT I am home today with my extra special wife and we will dig this bonus time deliciously.

Gonna be Super Bowl coverage, gonna be "Rescue Me", gonna be shoveling, gonna be a nice dinner.

Meanwhile the countdown to Super Bowl XLIX continues as January slides into February.

A week to remember, baby - a week to remember,

BOOM! Just Like That

Just sat down to enjoy a little brunch to fuel me for this "gonna get shit done and accomplish something" afternoon.

Popped on the NFL network and was happily surprised to catch the last five minutes of THE PATS Super Bowl send off rally in City Hall Plaza.

Listened to Wilfork and Brady and caught a replay of Robert Craft's comments.

Roaring crowd and confetti.

Watched the team bus head on down the road towards Logan Airport.

Got goosebumps.

I am officially in "losing my mind" mode.

Just So You Know

I am approaching this year month by month.

I am looking at each new month like a new year.

The first of each month will symbolize another fresh start. Another challenge laid down.

I refuse to allow 2015 to rocket by like 2014 did. And I am damn committed to ending this year on a high note.

For me and everybody else.

2013 ended with health issues and physical set backs for me. Pinched nerve, high blood pressure, tri-focals.

You remember. I talked about it incessantly.

2014 ended with the deaths of Jonathan and Sarge.

I have had enough.

I will do the best I can do this year.

I will try. And try and try and try.

As Duane Allman wrote in 1969: "I love life and I will be the best man I can be."

I haven't felt this way in a long time.

I am putting out a positive vibe. I'm hoping it becomes an umbrella to protect every single person that I love.

I want all of us to be healthy. I want all of us to be happy.

Today is January 26, 2015.

I am not afraid.

Finding Family

I am gearing up for the Super Bowl.

I paid some attention to the talk last week but it was tough because 107% of what I heard concerned underinflated footballs.

I will try to steer clear of the too easy too obvious ball jokes because that approach has taken on a life of its own.

I have to admit a lot of it was funny. Belichick tried to minimize it in his press conference by using the word football - it was obvious he was making a conscious effort.

Brady was not so cautious. As a result a lot of comedians put together a lot of routines with Brady's comments spliced in and they were pretty goddamn funny.

Even Lawrence O'Donnell on MSNBC put together an extended shtick on his show.

Apparently even pseudo-intellectuals cannot resist ball jokes.

Anyway....................I am going to dive in this week. Christ, it's THE PATS in the Super Bowl - again. Why not?

Carol is always telling me I am too hard on myself, I need to lighten up, I need to enjoy things more.

She's right.

So this week is my week. To indulge, revel, roll around in and enjoy the fact that THE NEW ENGLAND PATRIOTS are making their eighth appearance in this  monumental game.

And to look forward to experiencing this game with Carol, Keith, Emily, Craig, Karen and Eddie.

I hunger for victory.

Watched a segment on the NFL network - or ESPN - called "Finding Family." It was about football players on the winning team at the Super Bowl who immediately fight their way through the on-field crowd to find their family sitting in the stands.

Guys who get so emotional as their sons and daughters are handed down to them from the stands by their wives, who then climb down to join the celebration.

Players who seek out their parents in the stands to get them down on the field to celebrate with.

Brothers, sisters - the people who mean the most to these guys.

Guys just standing on the field pointing towards the stands and where they know their family is sitting. A personal moment in a sea of insanity.

I love the shots of massive football players holding tiny sons in their arms as confetti reigns down, music blares, lights flash, tears flow and young, wide open eyes take it all in.

Guys who win the Super Bowl have achieved something they have worked their entire life for.

Sacrificed, sweated, hurt, worried, wondered and dreamed for and about.

What an amazing feeling that must be to have a passion that consumes you. To dedicate yourself completely to working as hard as you can to turning that passion into success. Through pain and doubt and set backs and unpredictability. For your entire life. To hold that trophy in your hands as the ultimate symbol of just how far you have come. The ultimate symbol of the ultimate success.

It doesn't end there. It ends with family.

These guys look for their precious family because those are the people who count. The people who sacrificed along with them, who encouraged them and believed in them.

The people the players want to protect and reward and take care of and say thank you to.

The people the players get love from and give their love to.

As this week moves on I am sure I will get stupid about it all. The TV hype will get bigger and more repetitive. Too many words will be spoken, too many opinions will be rendered.

"Finding Family" was a good base to work from. A good start. It made the significance of this game more real and more human.

I will enjoy this game heartily.

My enjoyment will be magnified exponentially through the company of Carol, Craig, Karen, Keith, Emily, and Eddie.

That is where it's really at, baby.

Strange Perspectives

I learned this morning that Charles Laquidara quit WBCN for two years to dedicate his life to ingesting cocaine.

He was so into the drug that he decided to quit his job and do cocaine for the rest of his life.

When he quit he told his friends that he knew the drug would kill him but figured it was a great way to go.

That's how much he loved it.

His explanation for quitting the job: "I was heavily into cocaine, and the show was getting in my way."

It's The Little Things

Woke up this morning at 7:02.

My mind immediately told me it would be unforgivable to get up that early on a Sunday morning.

I agreed.

But I was awake. Had to go to the bathroom. Knew that if I got up to go to the bathroom I would never get back to sleep.

So I waited.

Listening to Carol sleep, and Maka do her tiny wheeze.

Until Lakota climbed her way up onto the bed right next to me and demanded attention.

I patted her for a while, kissed her head and got up, looking at my beautiful wife for a second and smiling at Maka all curled up at Carol's feet.

Performed obligatory bathroom disciplines. Opened the bathroom door and both cats were sitting there, waiting.

So goddamn cute.

Maka ran down the stairs, energetic as always. Lakota - slowly, step by step.

As I walked own the stairs listening to the January wind howl, I thought about how nice it is to get up to a warm house.

I dumped out, wiped out and refilled their water bowl. I always get a kick out of how soon they get thirsty when I refill the bowl.

Apparently they prefer their water cold and fresh.

Did the daily neck stretches to fight back against residual pinched nerve discomfort. My neck and shoulder and arm have never been the same since that episode over a year ago. My body and me have struck an awkward balance between almost constant but minor discomfort and occasional pain.

But the pain is never severe and I am always able to bounce back.

Walked out to get Carol's paper, a new ritual.

It has always been a joke with us on weekends when she comes downstairs and I am casual in my recliner, book in lap, empty coffee mug at hand, for her to say: "Did you get my paper?"

I never used to do it. When Jonathan and Sarge died last year I started to do it. Because I am now obsessed with being focused on my family. I care about little ways to make them happy.

I feel good when I make that minimal effort and Carol can come down to a waiting newspaper.

Brewed up a cup of coffee and sat to read the book I am reading about WBCN. A book my son Keith recommended to me.

Got me thinking about my sons. Keith who recommended this book which I am digging deeply, and Craig who gave me a laptop which has freed me to exist in the 21st century.

Little things that make me happy. Deep relationships that define my life.

In between chapters I thought about today. Carol and I are traveling to dreaded Massachusetts to see my brother Ed perform with Symphony Pro Musica. A group of musicians who are supremely talented. Some of whom make a living at it, most of whom don't but should.

Magnificent.

I thought about Eddie and the hell he lived for eight years capped off by the worst emotional pain any human can experience.

These concerts have taken on a deeper significance in my mind now. They represent a part of my brother that is exceptionally talented and committed. I'm guessing they are also a source of soothing, temporary relief for him from his new, harsher reality.

He is proud of these performances, and I am over the top proud to see him associate with and perform with exceptional musicians. Musicians who obviously believe he is exceptional enough to perform with them.

Got up early today. My mind was consumed with thoughts and images and emotions regarding Lakota and Maka, Carol, Keith, Craig, Eddie, Jonathan and Sarge.

Two precious cats, two loved family members who are no longer physically with us, four people who, along with Emily and Karen, make up the small innermost circle of my life.

The small, intense, life-justifying circle that is my life as much as my heart beating and my lungs breathing is my life.