"Don't talk unless you can improve the silence."
Laurence Coughlin
Monday, November 30, 2015
Lately.................
Lately, I have been taking my tea with pumpkin flavored creamer.
Does this make me unrefined?
Does this make me unrefined?
Sunday, November 29, 2015
George Harrison
George Harrison died fourteen years ago today.
I cannot believe it has been that long.
He was the coolest Beatle.
Dry and wicked sense of humor, a well respected musician and songwriter, a deeply spiritual man and a dedicated gardener. He was proud of the garden he maintained at his home. It was a source of peace for him.
He was an enormously talented man who was held down by John and Paul. He made up for that with a vengeance when he went solo.
He was killed by brain cancer at the age of 58.
I could go on one of my typical Beatle rants but I won't.
I will only say that the world lost a lot when it lost George.
I will only say that all Beatles are sacred.
I cannot believe it has been that long.
He was the coolest Beatle.
Dry and wicked sense of humor, a well respected musician and songwriter, a deeply spiritual man and a dedicated gardener. He was proud of the garden he maintained at his home. It was a source of peace for him.
He was an enormously talented man who was held down by John and Paul. He made up for that with a vengeance when he went solo.
He was killed by brain cancer at the age of 58.
I could go on one of my typical Beatle rants but I won't.
I will only say that the world lost a lot when it lost George.
I will only say that all Beatles are sacred.
In Your Eyes
In your eyes I see the reflection of thirty seven years.
Thirty seven years of marriage. Thirty seven years of life.
And love.
I see the beginning, the spark, the reason.
A spectacular winter wedding that even a blizzard could not kill.
A sign of resilience to come.
The first and last apartment, underground with a heated
garage, a stolen cat named Bandit, an upstairs neighbor named Bunny.
In your eyes I see our first home. Quirky and familiar; the home
you grew up in.
I see two small boys and feel pure joy again.
Hear the laughter and miss the innocence.
I see their comfort in your care, your wisdom,
your insight.
Knowing they were safe, physically and emotionally,
brought me peace.
In your eyes I see our second home, the one we share
alone together now.
I see small boys becoming men, eventually leaving.
Proud college graduations and lives begun, as aspects of our life ended.
The sudden shock of a quiet home.
In your eyes, sometimes, I see anger.
Disappointment and pain.
Worry.
I see tears and the evidence of tears and wonder how
often I am the cause.
Life reflected in its unpredictability, folly and cruelty.
In your eyes I also see resilience.
Love redefined. Shaped through experience.
I see the future.
Decades to come.
New perspectives, realities, and challenges.
Happiness grown deeper, love more powerful.
I know my eyes reflect much the same, but it's
not my eyes that I love.
Thirty seven years of marriage. Thirty seven years of life.
And love.
I see the beginning, the spark, the reason.
A spectacular winter wedding that even a blizzard could not kill.
A sign of resilience to come.
The first and last apartment, underground with a heated
garage, a stolen cat named Bandit, an upstairs neighbor named Bunny.
In your eyes I see our first home. Quirky and familiar; the home
you grew up in.
I see two small boys and feel pure joy again.
Hear the laughter and miss the innocence.
I see their comfort in your care, your wisdom,
your insight.
Knowing they were safe, physically and emotionally,
brought me peace.
In your eyes I see our second home, the one we share
alone together now.
I see small boys becoming men, eventually leaving.
Proud college graduations and lives begun, as aspects of our life ended.
The sudden shock of a quiet home.
In your eyes, sometimes, I see anger.
Disappointment and pain.
Worry.
I see tears and the evidence of tears and wonder how
often I am the cause.
Life reflected in its unpredictability, folly and cruelty.
In your eyes I also see resilience.
Love redefined. Shaped through experience.
I see the future.
Decades to come.
New perspectives, realities, and challenges.
Happiness grown deeper, love more powerful.
I know my eyes reflect much the same, but it's
not my eyes that I love.
Will NFL Players Begin Wearing Skirts?
I watch Inside The NFL.
I do it to gain knowledge to be used in the football pool I compete in.
Fat lot of good it has done me. I currently stand 6th out of 10 participants. That sucks grandly, especially considering that I just moved up one or two spots in the pool.
You will be happy to know I have cut down on the weekly research. I was way over the top for most of the year. Inside The NFL, plus a show on the NFL network called Aftermath or something quite like it, plus all the goddamn highlights and commentary I could find in random moments.
It is possible I suck in the pool because my brain was overloaded. My brain is tiny - if I am buttering a slice of bread and you ask me what day of the week it is, I will butter my arm.
But that is neither here nor there.
So now it is just Inside The NFL. It is worth watching that show if only for the fabulous NFL Films footage. Footage that gets you right down on the field, right down on the sidelines, on the line of scrimmage, in the huddle, right in the middle of running plays and passing plays etc. etc. etc.
Spectacular.
Typical commentators are Adam Schein (host), Phil Simms, Boomer Esiason and Brandon Marshall.
Simms was QB for the Giants for fourteen years and retired in 1993. Esiason was QB for the bengals, jets and cardinals and retired in 1997.
Marshall represents the current breed of NFL players. He is currently a wide receiver for the jets.
Brandon Marshall should wear a skirt.
Recently he was talking about the jets flying over to London to play a game. He mentioned that the team brought along a sleep coach to help the players adjust to the time change.
Simms and Esiason almost fell off their chairs. Me too, although it is a lot harder to fall off a recliner than a stool. I don't consume as much whiskey as I used to but it might be worth it to find out exactly how drunk I would have to get to fall out of my recliner.
But I digress.
A sleep coach. A fucking sleep coach.
Marshall defended the practice while Boomer and Phil tried really hard to hide their smirks.
The last two episodes of Inside The NFL have featured segments, instigated by Marshall, dealing with the frosty relationship between players and the media.
Marshall is not happy with how the media treats players and apparently he is attempting to bring about detente through these segments.
Two weeks ago they had a journalist on and Marshall laid out his complaints, the journalist responded and they had a discussion.
Marshall came across as The King of All Whining.
This past week they had three journalists on, and Marshall and they went at it again with Esiason mediating.
This segment was pathetic too.
Marshall came across like a little kid who is crying because Blockhead Jones is calling him names.
I don't know, man. Is our culture's weakness and whining and excessive sensitivity infecting the NFL?
A game where the average player stands approximately eight feet tall and weighs 475 pounds?
The perfect football player to me has today's athleticism combined with old school football mentality.
Dick Butkus: "I'm not so mean. When I played pro football, I never set out to hurt anyone deliberately - unless it was, you know, important, like a league game or something."
OK I admit I threw that in there for levity. I despise players who try to injure other players. I think Ndamukong Suh should be executed. I also think Butkus was quoted tongue and cheek. Maybe.
Anyway, I think Marshall comes across as weak and whiny on the show. I hope his attitude is not indicative of the general attitude of today's players.
My gut tells me it is not.
That's it. I'm done. I'm off to watch some late afternoon manly man football.
And tonight - PATS/broncos.
Perfect ending to a slow-moving, nerve soothing, Thanksgiving weekend.
Ciao, baby.
I do it to gain knowledge to be used in the football pool I compete in.
Fat lot of good it has done me. I currently stand 6th out of 10 participants. That sucks grandly, especially considering that I just moved up one or two spots in the pool.
You will be happy to know I have cut down on the weekly research. I was way over the top for most of the year. Inside The NFL, plus a show on the NFL network called Aftermath or something quite like it, plus all the goddamn highlights and commentary I could find in random moments.
It is possible I suck in the pool because my brain was overloaded. My brain is tiny - if I am buttering a slice of bread and you ask me what day of the week it is, I will butter my arm.
But that is neither here nor there.
So now it is just Inside The NFL. It is worth watching that show if only for the fabulous NFL Films footage. Footage that gets you right down on the field, right down on the sidelines, on the line of scrimmage, in the huddle, right in the middle of running plays and passing plays etc. etc. etc.
Spectacular.
Typical commentators are Adam Schein (host), Phil Simms, Boomer Esiason and Brandon Marshall.
Simms was QB for the Giants for fourteen years and retired in 1993. Esiason was QB for the bengals, jets and cardinals and retired in 1997.
Marshall represents the current breed of NFL players. He is currently a wide receiver for the jets.
Brandon Marshall should wear a skirt.
Recently he was talking about the jets flying over to London to play a game. He mentioned that the team brought along a sleep coach to help the players adjust to the time change.
Simms and Esiason almost fell off their chairs. Me too, although it is a lot harder to fall off a recliner than a stool. I don't consume as much whiskey as I used to but it might be worth it to find out exactly how drunk I would have to get to fall out of my recliner.
But I digress.
A sleep coach. A fucking sleep coach.
Marshall defended the practice while Boomer and Phil tried really hard to hide their smirks.
The last two episodes of Inside The NFL have featured segments, instigated by Marshall, dealing with the frosty relationship between players and the media.
Marshall is not happy with how the media treats players and apparently he is attempting to bring about detente through these segments.
Two weeks ago they had a journalist on and Marshall laid out his complaints, the journalist responded and they had a discussion.
Marshall came across as The King of All Whining.
This past week they had three journalists on, and Marshall and they went at it again with Esiason mediating.
This segment was pathetic too.
Marshall came across like a little kid who is crying because Blockhead Jones is calling him names.
I don't know, man. Is our culture's weakness and whining and excessive sensitivity infecting the NFL?
A game where the average player stands approximately eight feet tall and weighs 475 pounds?
The perfect football player to me has today's athleticism combined with old school football mentality.
Dick Butkus: "I'm not so mean. When I played pro football, I never set out to hurt anyone deliberately - unless it was, you know, important, like a league game or something."
OK I admit I threw that in there for levity. I despise players who try to injure other players. I think Ndamukong Suh should be executed. I also think Butkus was quoted tongue and cheek. Maybe.
Anyway, I think Marshall comes across as weak and whiny on the show. I hope his attitude is not indicative of the general attitude of today's players.
My gut tells me it is not.
That's it. I'm done. I'm off to watch some late afternoon manly man football.
And tonight - PATS/broncos.
Perfect ending to a slow-moving, nerve soothing, Thanksgiving weekend.
Ciao, baby.
Friday, November 27, 2015
Dig
"Everybody is identical in their secret unspoken belief that way deep down they are different from everyone else."
David Foster Wallace
David Foster Wallace
Last Year, This Year
Thanksgiving, 2014 we enjoyed a typical amazing family day.
Innocently and honestly taking great comfort in the magic that is this family.
We did not know that before Christmas Sarge would die and Jonathan would die. The shock and sadness was enormous, and deeply affected Christmas and the onset of the new year.
A new year that two and a half months later would bring about the suicide of Kevin.
That reality has weighed heavy throughout this year.
Yesterday we celebrated Thanksgiving 2015.
I sat at the dinner table, looking at my amazing wife, my sons, at Emily and my brother, and thinking about Karen, with a love in my heart that was overwhelming.
Sometimes life feels like dodging bullets.
That is reality, that is life, and there will be enormous and heartbreaking loss and sadness. No getting around it.
The pain that I (we) suffered over the loss of Sarge, Jonathan and Kevin shaped me. It changed me.
How could it not?
Losing three people you love in such a short time changes your definition and expectation of life. It shifts your perspective and wakes you up to the fragility and unpredictability of our relationships. It gets in your face and shames you out of apathy.
I sat in my recliner yesterday, I sat at the dinner table yesterday, and reflected.
I considered the fact that this is my family, and what a magical, deeply loving, exceptional and amazing family it is.
I considered the fact that Carol and I are getting older and that there is nothing we can do about that.
I considered the fact that things will change over the next five and ten and fifteen and twenty years.
No stopping or avoiding it.
That being said, I relished the special nature of this day, a day set aside to give thanks. To give thanks for whatever it is that is meaningful to you.
Nothing is more important to me, nothing touches my heart more gently, nothing nourishes my soul more than my family does.
You can take everything else away from me and I will still have my family.
And my family is everything.
It was a spectacular Thanksgiving, even considering how much has been lost.
The day was about what has been lost, what we still have and what lies precious before us in the future.
It was a beautiful day.
Innocently and honestly taking great comfort in the magic that is this family.
We did not know that before Christmas Sarge would die and Jonathan would die. The shock and sadness was enormous, and deeply affected Christmas and the onset of the new year.
A new year that two and a half months later would bring about the suicide of Kevin.
That reality has weighed heavy throughout this year.
Yesterday we celebrated Thanksgiving 2015.
I sat at the dinner table, looking at my amazing wife, my sons, at Emily and my brother, and thinking about Karen, with a love in my heart that was overwhelming.
Sometimes life feels like dodging bullets.
That is reality, that is life, and there will be enormous and heartbreaking loss and sadness. No getting around it.
The pain that I (we) suffered over the loss of Sarge, Jonathan and Kevin shaped me. It changed me.
How could it not?
Losing three people you love in such a short time changes your definition and expectation of life. It shifts your perspective and wakes you up to the fragility and unpredictability of our relationships. It gets in your face and shames you out of apathy.
I sat in my recliner yesterday, I sat at the dinner table yesterday, and reflected.
I considered the fact that this is my family, and what a magical, deeply loving, exceptional and amazing family it is.
I considered the fact that Carol and I are getting older and that there is nothing we can do about that.
I considered the fact that things will change over the next five and ten and fifteen and twenty years.
No stopping or avoiding it.
That being said, I relished the special nature of this day, a day set aside to give thanks. To give thanks for whatever it is that is meaningful to you.
Nothing is more important to me, nothing touches my heart more gently, nothing nourishes my soul more than my family does.
You can take everything else away from me and I will still have my family.
And my family is everything.
It was a spectacular Thanksgiving, even considering how much has been lost.
The day was about what has been lost, what we still have and what lies precious before us in the future.
It was a beautiful day.
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