Saginaw Street
When I was a kid, my grandparents lived in this cool old house on Saginaw Street in Norway, Michigan. It was actually the house my grandfather grew up in through his 1920s and ‘30s childhood. It’s funny the way you remember old houses as the way you perceived them as a kid. So many vivid details about that house still hold fast in my subconscious. The side and backyards that seemed enormous to three little kids playing kickball with the inflatable Mickey Mouse ball that was kept in the bin under the work bench in a garage that smelled so much like what a garage should smell like it was almost magical. The hedge that separated the property from the alley and met up at a right angle with the whitewashed fence that ran along the garden of flowers and tomato plants on the northern edge of the lot with the gate at the front of the house that had a gap on the bottom that was high enough off the ground to squeeze under. The upstairs den where we would sleep on the foldout couch one or two nights every summer when I would stay up late watching baseball on ESPN and trying to mimic the pitcher’s windup and throwing motion and going out on the little upstairs patio to look at the stars during commercial breaks. Grandpa’s living room recliner where he would snore away while enjoying a nice afternoon nap while Grandma puttered in the kitchen or sat over in her chair knitting and giggling at the noises emanating from her husband. The screened-in porch on the back where we gathered for many summertime family meals to eat grilled cheeseburgers on Ebeling’s bakery rolls with Old Dutch potato chips, watermelon, and Barq’s root beer while listening to the Friday night races at the Norway Speedway a mile down US-2.
This may sound really strange, but one of my favorite parts of the house was my grandpa’s man cave bathroom located right in the front entryway. I don’t know if that front part of the house was heated, but if it was, it was poorly insulated. As a result, Grandpa’s bathroom was always freezing cold in the winter, not that he cared. Turns out it was also cold in the ball turret of a B-17 flying combat missions over enemy territory during World War II, so a chilly toilet seat was pretty inconsequential to Grandpa. There was always a smell of classic Brut aftershave and Old Spice cologne, and an electric shaver, toothbrush, and deodorant permanently residing on the counter. Next to the high-seated toilet was an old school brass magazine rack full of periodicals that could keep a guy entertained for hours. I remember being a little kid and seeing the classic Sports Illustrated cover with Lyle Alzado in a bandana.
Even as a seven-year old kid, I was sort of drawn to lifting, and this was my first time ever hearing anything about steroids. The funny thing is, even though this article claimed steroids cause cancer, it didn’t turn me off to the idea of using them. Lyle Alzado was one of the most badass players in NFL history, so steroids must be pretty powerful stuff if they can help create that kind of monster. I remember someone telling a story about Lyle Alzado walking around Venice Beach and a crowd of chicks and bodybuilders following him. He was one of those people who, even if you didn’t know who he was, you knew he was someone.
But I digress…
Uncle Rico
You remember Uncle Rico, right? From “Napoleon Dynamite.” Uncle Rico used to love to talk about high school and how he wishes he could just go back and relive his glory days. Win that state championship, be the man, get the girl, and set his life on a whole different path from the one he ended up on. Well, at the risk of sounding like Uncle Rico, I want to share some thoughts here.
I’m on a group chat with my buddy Hammer and his brother Luke, and we’re always sharing hilarious memories and stories from high school. Either we’re all living in the past or there was something really special about the time and place where we grew up. Or, maybe, it’s a little bit of both. Whatever the case, we all have very fond and vivid memories of growing up in Norway, Michigan, that still make us laugh twenty plus years later. The people, places, and happenings provided priceless entertainment value on a daily basis. It was a simpler time in the world, before cell phones and really even the internet, and there was a genuine sense of innocence that came with growing up in a small town in Michigan’s remote Upper Peninsula in the 1990s and early 2000s. I used to sit at the school cafeteria lunch table with my goofball friends and just think about how lucky I was to be alive in that time and place. One day, as senior year was coming to an end, I remember thinking, “Damn, I’ve eaten lunch with these guys pretty much every day for thirteen years. That sucks I won’t get to do this anymore.”
Life has moved on and my high school friends and I, in the blink of an eye, have all reached our 40s. We have families, careers, bills, and responsibilities. Hammer recently made a YouTube channel that has all our old football games from the fall of 2001. Ronberg field, the crowd, the coaches, my friends. They’re all still there, frozen in time.
Uncle Rico would love it.
Take Care Of Your People
In October 2010, I drove from Phoenix, Arizona, to Newport, Rhode Island, to report for my initial Navy training at Officer Training Command - Newport. Our primary drill instructor was this old crusty Senior Chief who was on his last tour before retirement. Senior Chief was an absolute trip, and I have several notebook pages of quotes from him that warrant a separate post. After twenty-plus years in the Navy, Senior Chief had a wealth of experience in mentoring and supervising young sailors from all walks of life. He harped on a lot of things during our five weeks together, but one thing he reiterated over and over again was a simple concept that revealed a lot about his humanity and emotional intelligence.
“Take care of your people.”
Senior Chief always wanted my classmates and me to think about the people around us and do whatever we could to mentor them, protect them from unnecessary hardship caused by overbearing senior managers, help them along, see the bigger picture, empower them to learn and grow, and check in on their personal well-being.
I’m lucky to have a good, stable job, but our managers could definitely use a reminder to take care of their people. The culture at our office is going downhill, and the fact that so many managers just don’t take care of their people is, in my opinion, the root cause of a number of issues. Some simple things would go a long way.
Appreciate hard work and recognize people when it happens.
Trust your people and avoid micromanaging.
Never let ego cloud judgment or factor into decision-making.
People want more money and time off. Hook them up in these areas when possible. (This is another piece of wisdom from Senior Chief).
Refrain from making unnecessary busy work for people.
Don’t be entitled or act like a prima donna.
Shield people from petty tyrants up the chain of command who can make life miserable for everyone.
Treat everyone with respect.
Be level-headed and consistent.
Listen to people.
Don’t Let Them Bring You Down
Some people will just suck the life out of you.
They carry around a cloud of jealousy and negativity.
They get upset when anyone else gets ahead.
They complain about everything.
They make excuses.
They think they are special.
They let their ego impact every decision they make and interfere with possible solutions.
They never give credit to anyone else for anything, ever.
They immediately get defensive at the mere suggestion that they may not be perfect or that someone else may be able to solve a problem without their input or ideas.
They expect the entire world to adjust and change according to their whims.
They lack social skills and emotional intelligence.
They don’t listen.
They don’t remember names.
They refuse to look at things from another point of view.
They never step back and look at the big picture.
Don’t let these people bring you down.
Keep your head down and control what you can.
Plod along and keep moving forward.
Eliminate distractions as much as possible.
Enjoy the process and don’t be in a hurry.
Have a plan, but stay flexible and open to new paths and unexpected challenges.
Stay disciplined and don’t let a lack of motivation stop you from getting things done.
Remain open-minded and always accept the possibility that you may not be the smartest person in the room.
Work hard and don’t expect credit for everything you do.
Take ownership of your responsibilities.
Admit when you screw up.
Live the example for others.
“Do I Look Like The Macho Man?”
My buddy Matt was the first friend I can ever remember having in life. Our moms would share babysitting duties and once we started morning kindergarten, Matt and I would go to this sweet old lady’s house for a few hours in the afternoon until our moms got off work. Some of my earliest memories in life are hanging out with Matt, playing Nintendo, watching television, and just generally goofing around in his parents’ basement. One time Matt asked me how far back I could remember (Matt’s always asking interesting questions like that), and I think I kind of blew his mind when I told him I could remember his basement before it had been remodeled back in the late-80s/early-90s. Matt’s brother Brian was five years older than us, so Matt and I really looked up to him and thought he was so mature and cool. Brian was a great athlete and, like a lot of kids from that era, was inspired by the heavily muscled cartoon super hero-esque physiques of pro wrestlers like the Warlord, Hercules, the Road Warriors, Ravishing Rick Rude, Leg Luger, Superstar Billy Graham, Hulk Hogan, and the Ultimate Warrior. Having gotten into sports and lifting weights at an early age, Brian was always in excellent shape (and still is, by the way). Brian and some of his friends were a huge influence in my desire to play sports and get bigger and stronger. They all played football, lifted weights, cussed and carried themselves like tough-asses. Pardon my crass language here, but where I grew up, if you didn’t play football, you were a pussy. It was as simple as that. Two of Brian’s friends were these twin brothers, Nick and Nate. They were the first real life guys I ever noticed with big traps and necks. I used to try to imagine what it would be like to go up against those brick shithouses on the football field. Fortunately, I never had to find out because they were graduated by the time I got to suit up for the Norway Knights.
One time when I was really little, Matt invited me to go out to his uncle’s lake cottage for a family gathering. They had a stationary walkout wooden dock that jutted out about twenty feet into the water, but they also had one of those floating rafts that’s anchored to the bottom of the lake and is buoyed by a couple rows of empty barrels. We had all kinds of fun out on the raft, playing “King of the Raft,” rocking the thing back and forth side to side, getting everybody crowded into one corner dipped down into the water as someone tried to climb up the steep slope to the high corner, and all kinds of other stuff that probably wasn’t even close to safe. Untold hours were spent in the afternoon sunshine climbing up the raft’s ladder and jumping off into the water below.
At one point, a battle royale ensued on the raft, and Brian managed to throw everybody else off and into the lake. Treading water and looking up at the raft, I saw Brian standing in all his glory, lit up by the cloudless summer sky and hitting a front double biceps pose.
“Do I look like the Macho Man?” Brian asked.
“Oh yeah, definitely,” we replied. What else could we say? Brian had just tossed us all off the raft like bags of garbage, and he was big and jacked compared to our scrawny little kid physiques.
Being a Husband
Last summer, I was out in the field working with one of our new hires, a young 23-year old woman who is super sharp and very professional. When I was home and catching up with my wife Cali after the work day was over, I mentioned that my new coworker just seemed so young and fresh-faced in the world. When Cali pointed out that she was that age when we got married, my first thought was, “Really? Who the hell let that happen? You were so young, and we didn’t know anything!”
Cali and I met and had our first date in late-February of 2009, which means we’re coming up on 15 years of being together. We were married in August 2010, back when I was 26 and Cali was 23. I was in my mid-20s and thought I knew everything about everything. How hard could this marriage thing be? It was obvious that Cali and I loved each other, so it was only natural that we get married and start our life together.
The thing is, it took me a long time to figure out how to be a husband. That doesn’t mean I’m perfect now, and there is always room for improvement, but Cali deserved much better than what she got early on in our marriage. I wasn’t used to thinking about another person when I made decisions, and I certainly didn’t understand the value of looking for ways to help out around the house. My natural tendency was to just assume that if Cali was doing a chore, she was fine with it. I’d be sitting there on the couch watching television while Cali was taking care of something, and then I’d wonder why she seemed upset. Not only was I a total moron, but I was a lazy-ass too. What a great combo Cali married.
Thankfully, I’ve wizened up and matured over the years and our marriage is much improved. Obviously, marriage is about love, but it’s also a partnership between two people who, ideally, genuinely like each other. Cali and I actively look for things we can do for each other and take pride in making life more comfortable and easy for the other person. She makes dinner most nights and does a lot of the deep cleaning around the house. I take care of the garbage, dog poop, and snow shoveling. Cali is a master at loading the dishwasher, but I usually unload it because one time she mentioned not liking that job. These are little things that make a big difference.
I know a few young guys who are in the early years of their marriages, and I see them making some of the same mistakes I did. I’ve shared some of my own experiences and perspectives with them, but I’m not big on giving advice or telling people what they need to or must do. Besides, these guys are real sweethearts, so they’ll figure it out eventually.
2023 Reflections
And just like that, another year is in the books. I’ve been in a reflective mood lately. Maybe it’s because a new year is just getting underway. Or perhaps it’s because I’ll be turning 40 in 2024. That just doesn’t seem right. If I’m lucky, I’ll get to do another 40 years and see 80. Unbelievable how fast this life is going.
Nothing seemed to go according to plan in 2023. My work schedule was constantly changing. Visits to see family got moved around and outright canceled in some instances. Some of my favorite annual events that mark the changing of the seasons got rained out. It was just one thing after another. There were a few highlights here and there, and I’m certainly fortunate to live the life I have, but 2023 just felt like a year full of hustle. I didn’t take nearly enough time to stop and smell the roses, so to speak. It was go, go, go, and on to the next thing.
I’m determined to do better in 2024. To be nicer and more forgiving to myself. To make time to do fun things with my wife. To not feel a constant sense of urgency all day every day. To slow things down and have more fun. To worry less and let things go.
2023 Book List
Well, another great year of reading is complete. I guess you could say it’s, “in the books.” Sorry, couldn’t resist.
This year featured a whole lot of true crime that I got from a couple random lists I found online. There were also some great works of fiction and several super entertaining non-fiction stories that read like exciting novels.
Based on sheer number of books, this year paled in comparison to 2022, but work was super busy and my mind was just a lot more distracted for parts of this year. This made it difficult for me to get into certain books. It doesn’t matter though, because daily reading remains a very important and enjoyable part of my life and this year’s books taught me a lot and really made me think.
“The Other Wes Moore: One Name, Two Fates” by Wes Moore - Kindle - This was a really good book about two guys with the same name and with roots in Baltimore that ended up with very different outcomes in life. Even though I got it from a list of true crime books, I wouldn’t necessarily categorize it as true crime. It’s more of a memoir/biography than a true crime book, but I still very much enjoyed the story and message.
“The Quiet Americans” by Scott Anderson - This book had not been on my radar but my sister got it for me for Christmas so I dove right in. It ended up being a great read about the history of the CIA, the end of World War II, and the beginning of the Cold War. Parts of it were really dense and took careful reading to follow, but I very much enjoyed it.
“American Predator: The Hunt for the Most Meticulous Serial Killer of the 21st Century” by Maureen Callahan - Kindle - Now this was an excellent and classic true crime book. The author keeps the name of the killer in suspense for a while, so I won’t spoil it here. Highly recommend.
“The Third Rainbow Girl: The Long Life of a Double Murder in Appalachia” by Emma Copley Eisenberg - Kindle - The title of this book is kind of self-explanatory, but the book itself was actually better than I expected after reading the reviews. The author does spend some time talking about her own life and experiences in West Virginia, but I didn’t think it overly distracted from the story. I’m kind of weirdly fascinated with Appalachia so this book offered some good insights, at least from the author’s point of view.
“Nuremberg” by Joseph E. Persico - This was a really excellent book that I’ve been meaning to read for a long time. There were tons of interesting stories about the cast of characters in the trials including the judges, prosecutors, defendants, jailers, and a whole lot more. I did not expect the book to make me question the validity or legality of the trials, but it really gave me something to think about. When I was in Germany back in 2007, I got to visit the Nuremberg courtroom. Truly a piece of history.
“Columbine” by Dave Cullen - Kindle - To be honest, I wasn’t that excited to read this book even though Columbine has always been interesting to me. I’ve listened to several podcasts on Columbine and figured this book would just be more of the same, but it turned out be a great book that really pulled me in. The author seemed very determined to lay out the truth from all sides without embellishment or fabrication. Columbine happened on April 20, 1999, the spring of my freshman year of high school. I remember having school assemblies and everyone being on alert about kids who were kind of antisocial. It was a crazy time that put a lot of people on edge.
“The Adventurer’s Son” by Roman Dial - Kindle - The first third of this book was kind of hard for me to get through as Dial spent page after page describing day-to-day details of past family vacations. It finally did pick up though after his son went missing and then I really couldn’t wait to read what happened next. Pretty solid true crime book.
“Brave New World” by Aldous Huxley - Unlike most people, I did not read this book or anything by George Orwell as part of my public education experience. This dystopian novel was an interesting read though. Made me think about some current happenings in today’s society.
“She Said” by Jodi Kantor and Megan Twohey - Kindle - This book is really about the #MeToo movement examined through the lens of scandals surrounding Harvey Weinstein, Donald Trump, and other powerful and prominent figures. I enjoyed this book because it was a pretty fair and balanced read that discussed societal issues from a few different perspectives.
“The Ghosts of Eden Park: The Bootleg King, the Women Who Pursued Him, and the Murder That Shocked Jazz-Age America” by Karen Abbott - Kindle - This was a really good book about Prohibition-era crime and law enforcement. It’s so fascinating that Prohibition was actually a thing in America. Recommend to anyone who likes history and true crime.
“Comanche Moon” by Larry McMurtry - Although this is the last book McMurtry wrote in the Lonesome Dove series, it is book two of four in the series timeline. This book feels the most like Lonesome Dove because all the characters are there…Call, Gus, Deets, Pea Eye, Newt, Jake Spoon, Clara, Maggie, Blue Duck. They’re all in this book. Highly recommend the entire series. Read them in whatever order you want. It doesn’t even matter.
“The Executioner’s Song” by Norman Mailer - Kindle - At almost 1,100 pages, this book will take some time to read, but it’s very good. It will definitely make the reader think about capital punishment, death row, and some other interesting legal questions. It’s a classic in the true crime drama and worth the time.
“Wiseguy” by Nicholas Pileggi - Kindle - This was an easy and entertaining read. If you’ve ever enjoyed a mob movie you will love this book. And don’t be worried if you’ve already seen “Goodfellas” 1,000 times like me. The book was still great.
“The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher: A Shocking Murder and the Undoing of a Great Victorian Detective” by Kate Summerscale - Kindle - This book was okay. It’s a whodunit from 1860s England, so a pretty interesting setting, but I had trouble getting momentum and it seemed like a long book for only 305 pages. Maybe it’s because I was reading another book on the side that was dragging and eventually tapped me out.
“Cultish” by Amanda Montell - Kindle - This was a fun and interesting book. The author discusses groups that are traditionally thought of as cults, like the Jonestown/Peoples Temple and Heaven’s Gate groups, but also dives into multilevel marketing companies and group fitness enthusiasts. An easy read written in a somewhat lighthearted style.
“Cold Noses and Warm Hearts: Beloved Dog Stories by Great Authors” compiled from the original edition and introduced by Laurie Morrow - Great book for dog lovers. Pretty much every story in here made me want to go love on my dog Arvid.
“The Poisoner’s Handbook” by Deborah Glum - Kindle - This was a fun book that tied the use of poisons as a murder weapon in to some great United States history during the first half of the 20th century. Great “off the beaten path” true crime book.
“Missoula” by Jon Krakauer - Kindle - This book was largely about rape, which means it could have some subject matter that is very tough for some readers. Like everything Krakauer writes, it was very educational and informative.
“Black Klansman” by Ron Stallworth - Kindle - This book was mildly entertaining, but kind of left me wanting more. There just wasn’t that much of a punch to the story. At least it was short enough that it didn’t drag.
“Mr. Mercedes” by Stephen King - This was more of a detective novel than a typical King book. There was no paranormal or other horror/fantasy stuff. Decent book though. Easy read.
“Party Monster: A Fabulous but True Tale of Murder in Clubland” by James St. James - Kindle - I ended up liking this book about drag queens and drug addicts in 1990s New York a lot more than I thought I would. There were some entertaining characters and I found myself really wanting to know what happens to them.
“Life Sentence” by Mark Bowden - Kindle - If you have any interest in HBO’s “The Wire” and/or any of David Simon’s works (“Homicide” and “The Corner”), you’ll love this book. It’s a real gritty story about life in West Baltimore and the life of people born into that world. Highly recommend.
“The Wager: A Tale of Shipwreck, Mutiny and Murder” by David Grann - Kindle - I absolutely LOVED this book about old timey shipwrecks, imperialist England, and human survival. See also by David Grann, “Killers of the Flower Moon.” Highly recommend.
“American Psycho” by Bret Easton Ellis - Kindle - This was an entertaining book that had some of the most disturbing scenes I’ve ever read (and I’ve read a good bit of true crime and horror). I figured that after reading this book, I’d watch the movie, but now I’m not so sure. I don’t think I even want to see how they reenacted some of the stuff in this book. Recommend if you want to read some gruesome stuff.
“Four Past Midnight” by Stephen King - I really enjoyed this collection of four short stories, especially the first three tales. One of the stories, “Secret Window, Secret Garden” was adapted into a psychological thriller movie starring Johnny Depp. Just great stuff all around.
“Running the Table: The Legend of Kid Delicious, the Last Great American Pool Hustler” by L. Jon Wertheim - Kindle - I don’t know anything about pool, but this book was entertaining as hell. Lots of good stories of life on the road with friends and wild characters. Very fun and easy read.
“The Dark Half” by Stephen King - Solid King book from the late-80s. Just the right amount of creepiness and supernatural.
“Evidence of Love” by John Bloom and Jim Atkinson - Kindle - This was an amazing true crime book. Just a classic murder mystery that read like a novel and had some great plot twists. Highly recommend.
“Killing the Witches” by Bill O’Reilly and Martin Dugard - Kindle - Great book about the Salem Witch Trials with lots of fun U.S. history woven into the story. The last part of the book really creeped the hell out of me, which is exactly what I wanted. Very easy and accessible read.
“Blood Meridian” by Cormac McCarthy - Like the other McCarthy books I’ve read, I can’t tell if I loved or hated this book. It held my attention. I wanted to finish it. But there were so many spots where I couldn’t tell what the hell the author was talking about. Recommend if you’re a fan of McCarthy’s stuff, I guess.
“A Fever in the Heartland: The Ku Klux Klan’s Plot to Take Over America, and the Woman Who Stopped Them” by Timothy Egan - Kindle - This was an amazing non-fiction book that read like an exciting novel. A very interesting story with lots of U.S. history throughout. Highly recommend. See also by Timothy Egan, “The Worst Hard Time.”
“Be the Unicorn: Twelve Data-Driven Habits that Separate the Best Leaders from the Rest” by William Vanderbloemen - Kindle - This was a great book, and a very easy read, on traits of successful leaders and tips for developing these characteristics. Highly recommend for anyone who just wants to get better.
“The Pledge to America” by Drago Dzieran - Kindle - Great memoir from someone who grew up in Communist Poland and eventually worked his way through a 20-year career as a Navy SEAL. Drago has been on Jocko’s podcast a few times, and I cannot recommend those episodes enough. So entertaining and hilarious.
“Wild New World” by Dan Flores - I really enjoyed this book, particularly the discussions about early North American civilizations and 19th century America. Flores is always a great listen on Joe Rogan’s podcast.
“Dead Wake: The Last Crossing of the Lusitania” by Erik Larson - Kindle - This was an absolutely fantastic book. The author tied together lots of great U.S. and world history and some really interesting stuff about German U-boats. Highly recommend. Also by Larson, check out “Devil in the White City.”
The Perfect Day
I had kind of a funny thing happen at work the other day when pretty much everyone was back at the regional office for a few days during our annual winter seminar. It’s always good to socialize and spend time with old and new friends, and this year was no different. We had this motivational speaker come talk to us about resiliency and maintaining a positive mindset. Honestly, I thought it was going to be totally lame, but the session was pretty interactive and it ended up being a good time. During the start of the talk, the speaker asked us to write down one of our best days and share it with the person sitting next to us. I’ve heard Lex Fridman ask this question to guests on his podcast, and it’s always one of my favorite segments. Having heard these discussions may be why I took the question a bit differently than most. I wasn’t thinking about major life events like a wedding or grand vacation. Instead, I was just thinking about a perfect day in my life that checks all the boxes and leaves me satisfied and wishing I could live it all over again. The previous Saturday had been one of those days, and I ended up having to get on the microphone and try to explain why this was the case to a room full of people. Below is a summary of my Saturday.
Woke up healthy and sober after a great night’s sleep.
Sat on the couch with my beautiful wife Cali drinking a ton of coffee, laughing, and watching goofy videos on Youtube.
Took Arvid to the dog park and watched him run around with his friends. Walked laps and chatted with my good friends from the morning crew.
Got home and ate a delicious and hearty breakfast that Cali made for me.
Went to jiu-jitsu and trained my ass off. Worked hard, learned, connected with people, and had a ton of fun.
Got home and ate a great lunch with Cali.
Picked up some friends for an escape room event. This was a blast and we all had some good laughs.
Got home and had a nice happy hour with Cali.
Grilled a huge rib steak from a local butcher for dinner.
Pounded a protein bar and some milk before bed.
At the end of the day, I made an entry in my daily journal.
“Today was pretty much a perfect day. Every single part of it was fun and enjoyable. So grateful to be healthy and happy and have good family, friends, and jiu-jitsu training partners. I wish my whole life was days like today.”
I think that pretty much sums it up. Embrace the time and daily blessings.
A Norway Story - Ice Shacks and Police
A funny thing happened to me back around 2000. I was a sophomore in high school at the time, less than a year into having a driver’s license and half a decade away from ever caring to even think about owning a cell phone.
The story I’m about to tell you is one that I used to occasionally share with my students when I was in the Navy and teaching at the Nuclear Power School in Goose Creek, South Carolina, from 2010 - 2015. Much like the “Half a Head of Lettuce” story I shared a while back, this tale is mostly true with shades of literary embellishment sprinkled in. There were days at the Power School when my students looked tortured and beaten down by the constant pace, pressure, and aggressiveness of the Navy’s nuclear training pipeline. Sometimes we just needed to take a few minutes to take a deep breath and share a laugh. I would always preface the telling of this story by warning my students that there is an f-word involved. Issuing this warning often left me standing on the podium with 30 students looking at me like, “You know we voluntarily joined the Navy, right? We assumed we might hear an f-word now and then.”
So, with that being said, here we go.
*Names have been changed to protect the innocent.
I grew up in the real small town of Norway, Michigan. This is way up north in the Upper Peninsula. Like, you’ve seen people describe Michigan by doing the hand/mitten thing? Well, there’s a whole other part of the state of Michigan. It’s a totally different world up in the U.P.
Norway. You can imagine what the population looks like. Lots of Scandinavian people.
When I say small, I mean about 2500 people, one stoplight, an entire kindergarten through high school in one big building. I graduated with about a hundred kids, and that was a big class for our school.
Norway is also far enough north to get some real bad winters. I’m talking snow on the ground from mid-November through April or May. Lots of cold and snow and early sunsets during those winter months. The only way to survive winters that long is to embrace quintessential winter activities. Skiing, snowboarding, sledding, ice fishing, snowmobiling, snowball fights, that kind of stuff.
When I was in high school, one of the major cold month pastimes was ice fishing. And the fishing part was totally besides the point. Maybe I should say, people would set up ice shacks on a frozen over lake so they could stand around, hang out, drink beer, and look at the clear and starry winter night sky.
Back then, Vulcan Lake was a prime spot for setting up ice shacks. To give you an idea of what I’m talking about, you can look this up on Google Maps. Find Vulcan, Michigan, right next door to Norway, and zoom in on Hanbury Lake, just a little ways south of U.S.-2. I guess Hanbury Lake is the official name, but we always called it Vulcan Lake. All summer long, we would go fishing and swimming down at Vulcan Lake. On the shore across from the boat launch was this really big rock. We were super creative so we called it Big Rock. Yeah, I know. Clearly we were gifted children. We would either hike a beaten path through the woods or just swim right across the lake to get to Big Rock. Once we were out there, we would jump, flip, and dive into the water below. It was also common for us to perform pro wrestling moves on each other as we sailed through the air. You know someone is a true friend when you can exchange diamond cutters and power bombs and everyone still goes home happy.
Regular access to Vulcan Lake was down this roughly three-quarter mile narrow dirt road with a boat launch and a little parking lot at the end. When people were hanging out at the shacks, there would be a bunch of vehicles parked haphazardly in the parking lot and you could see people standing around out near the middle of the lake. Obviously, the local police knew what kind of stuff was going on out there, so they always kept a close eye on the parking lot and who was coming and going. The Norway police would have been all too happy to bust some kids with a dreaded Minor in Possession of Alcohol (better known simply as an MiP) ticket. The shitty thing about getting an MiP was that the recipient would have to miss a quarter of whatever sports season was going on at the time. In a small school with a limited number of athletes, missing five games of a winter basketball or wrestling season was extremely costly and all the coaches would be pissed.
One typical freezing cold Saturday night, a bunch of us were down at the shacks, standing around on the ice and making each other laugh. I wasn’t drinking anything because I was afraid of getting an MiP and knew I had to drive myself home. The hour grew late and I had had enough, so I headed back to the parking lot and my sweet ride, a maroon 1988 Chevy Corsica. On this particular night, one of Norway’s finest was sitting in the parking lot eyeballing me as I got into my car. As soon as I started driving down the road, the police officer started following me with his brights and an extra spotlight lighting up my car and nearly blinding me in my rearview mirrors. I grew nervous as heck and could barely see, so I put my right blinker on and pulled over to the side of the road in the hopes that the officer would just drive on by. No such luck. He pulled in right behind me, keeping all his lights on and just sitting there making me wonder what was going on. Not having any previous interactions with the police, I was basically crapping my pants when the officer finally got out of his car and slowly walked up to my driver’s side window.
“License, registration, and proof of insurance,” he said flatly.
“Sure thing, Officer,” I replied.
As I started going through my glove box and wallet to find the requested documents, I saw some lights from a vehicle coming up the road from the Vulcan Lake parking lot. Just by the shape of the lights, I could tell it was my buddy Gary in his huge 1989 Chevy Blazer. Now, you need to know that Gary would regularly make his vehicle backfire just for the fun of it. One time he did it up by the school. I could hear it from my parents’ house several blocks away and it was so loud I thought a plane had crashed up at the school or something. If Gary was driving his Blazer and you all of a sudden heard him turn it off, plug your ears because a huge backfire was coming as soon as he started it up again.
I handed the officer my documents and he stood there next to my Corsica looking at them with his flashlight. The Vulcan Lake road was pretty narrow so the cop was practically standing in the middle of it. Remember, Gary is still approaching, and when he gets about ten yards from where the officer is standing, I hear him turn the Blazer off.
“You have to be kidding me,” I think to myself. Was Gary really going to backfire the Blazer right now?
Gary and the Blazer continue rolling up on the cop, and my other buddy Ben is absolutely hanging out the open front passenger window. The bottom window sill is pretty much at his waist since he’s kneeling on the seat and sticking his whole upper body outside of the vehicle. The cop turns around to look at Gary and Ben just in time to see Ben scream at the top of his lungs, “FFFFFFFFFFUCK THE POLICE!!!”
And as soon as Ben finishes his declaration, Gary turns the Blazer back on and the thing backfires like we’re at ground zero in Hiroshima when the first nuclear bomb went off. Gary then floors it, kicking up dirt and gravel and fishtailing up the dirt road away from the cop and me.
I’m sitting there half deaf and stunned over what I just witnessed while the officer throws my documents at me through my open window and races back to his car. He chased down Gary and Ben and gave Gary a disturbing the peace citation, and I think Ben got a ticket for not wearing a seatbelt. It was funnier than hell, and I bought them lunch at Dairy Queen for rescuing me from the cop and giving me a story to tell for the rest of my life.
Holy cow. What a time to be alive.
Binger Exit
“I wonder how many hours of my life I’ve spent waiting for him to say goodbye to everyone.”
-Grandma Lenore
My grandpa Bing was a shining example of what it means to love people. Going places with Grandpa was like accompanying a sincere and genuine mayoral candidate on a campaign stop. Everywhere Grandpa went, he would engage with people and share a laugh, joke, or memory. In 1993, when I was nine years old, my family went to watch a couple local teams play in the Michigan high school state football championships at the Pontiac Silverdome. Pontiac was a good eight hours and a world away from our small rural town in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, but that didn’t stop Grandpa from stopping and talking to dozens of people as we walked a lap around the Silverdome concourse before the game and at halftime. Some of these encounters were with old friends and colleagues from Grandpa’s time as a board member on the Michigan High School Athletic Association (MHSAA). Others were guys he had refereed with 30 years prior. Some were just people he made eye contact with or recognized from somewhere else. It was amazing to watch his ability to connect with people and share his gentle spirit during these interactions.
The term “Binger Exit” was coined by my good friend Matt after he noticed that my grandpa could not leave a restaurant without going around to each table and bantering with every patron in the place. It was pretty much tradition that my family would go out to eat somewhere after church on Sunday. Bernie’s Back Inn, Wildwood, Corner House, Country Kitchen, Rialto. Picture a classic small town diner and you’ll be on the money for what these places looked like. An old school cash register by the entrance, rough carpeting with plenty of stains, a counter with stools up near the kitchen, a faint smell of lingering cigarette smoke and cheap coffee, tables with removable clear plastic tops and ads for local businesses beneath, stiff metal-framed chairs with that faux-leather vinyl padding on the seat and backrest, and, of course, plenty of locals to chat with at 11:30 AM on a Sunday.
We’d have our meal, talk about life and the week ahead, and share some laughs. The check would come and my mom and grandparents would argue over who got to pay. Often my grandma or grandpa would wear my mom down and one of them would hand me the bill and some cash to go pay at the register. The pay counter always included an assortment of fliers for local fundraisers, small trays of Lions Club mints for sale, and a little metal spike with the day’s already-settled checks impaled in a stack. About this time, my grandpa would begin his Binger Exit, standing up from the table and surveying the place while my grandma put her coat on, collected her purse, and headed towards the exit. By the time I was driving age in the early 2000s, my grandpa had a cane and moved pretty slow and a bit unsteadily due to a stroke. Sometimes I would support him getting out of his chair and help him get his coat and hat on, the hat just barely resting on top of Grandpa’s head at just the right angle to not mess up his perfect coif of parted silver hair. The fact that it was a bit harder for Grandpa to maneuver on his feet didn’t stop him from taking a lap around the place, squeezing shoulders, shaking hands, and bantering with pretty much everyone he encountered.
If it was an older couple sitting at a table, one of my grandpa’s go-to lines was, “So she let you cook today, huh?” This would generally cause an eruption of laughter from all involved. Apparently that line never got old because it was always the same reaction.
Undoubtedly, some of his regular weekday morning coffee crew buddies would be seated somewhere in the diner. These were guys my grandpa had been friends with for 80 years by this point.
“Hey Andy, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay, Bing.”
If Grandpa didn’t immediately know or recognize the people at a certain table, he just saw it as an opportunity to make new friends. He’d walk right up and ask, “Who are you folks?” Inevitably, the former strangers and my grandpa would find some kind of mutual connection or friend that would open up a topic of conversation.
In the colder winter months, I would take the car keys and go pull my grandparents’ car around so they didn’t have to walk across an icy parking lot in frigid temperatures. My grandma would climb into her seat and await my grandpa’s emergence from the restaurant.
Finally, at long last, Grandpa would appear from the restaurant and assess his Binger Exit.
“I think I got a few more votes.” A rye smile and small chuckle.
“Those people are from Hermansville.” Okay, good to know.
“I taught that kid in school.” The “kid” was in his 70s now.
“Where’s Lynn? Oh, has she been waiting?” Like he didn’t know.
“Did you get enough to eat?” I had eaten my meal plus half of both my grandparents’ meals.
And with a hug and a kiss, Grandpa would climb into the driver’s seat and be on his way home (at no more than 10 miles per hour).
Michigan - Ohio State and Missing an Old Friend
Yesterday the Michigan and Ohio State football teams squared off in what is known simply as, “The Game.” This hotly contested rivalry is one of my favorite annual traditions as it’s always an interesting matchup and takes place on the Saturday of the wonderfully extended Thanksgiving weekend. Having grown up in Michigan, I was raised on Big Ten football and the colors and fight songs of the typically midwestern teams of that conference. I always root for Michigan to beat Ohio State, but I didn’t actually go to Michigan so it’s not a live or die kind of thing. To be honest, I’ll root for anyone in the Big Ten when it comes time for bowl games. I just love college football, and Big Ten football resurrects so many fond memories of growing up and watching football with my dad and grandpa.
There is something else though. The Game always reminds me of my late friend Marcus, an Ohio native and one of the sweetest human beings I have ever met. When I accepted a teaching job fresh out of college and moved from Michigan to Arizona in 2007, I only knew one or two people and was in culture shock after moving from my tiny one-stoplight hometown to a major city like Phoenix. Marcus was a math teacher at my new high school, and he quickly became my unofficial mentor, friend, and confidante. He was one of those people who just came into my life and I just clicked with immediately. It was like I didn’t even know I needed him until he was an integral part of my life. Seeing him at school every day helped get me through a very challenging time as I adjusted to living thousands of miles from home in a big city and working my first grownup job. Not a day went by where Marcus didn’t check in with me to see how things were going or if I needed help with anything. With Marcus around, there was never a shortage of laughs or bantering to be shared with absolutely everyone. He was always jovial and joking around and lovingly “joshing people,” as he called it, about anything and everything. I was comfortable talking to Marcus about every topic under the sun, and he always offered his thoughts and advice without judgment, criticism, or pretentiousness. He was the perfect person at a vulnerable time in my life.
Marcus was an Ohio State fan, and, no matter how long it had been since we’d talked or seen each other, I could always count on texting with him during the Michigan - Ohio State game. A few years ago, Marcus passed away unexpectedly way too young. The Game always makes me think of him and all that he did for me. If there is a heaven, I look forward to watching The Game with Marcus again some day.
Miss you, Buddy.
Good Hips and a Death in the Family
Today was just a great fucking day with a bit of sadness mixed in. I feel like a new person now that my hip seems to be getting sorted out. It affects my mood and every part of my day. I feel stronger, more confident, and fully capable of doing everything I want to do. During today’s workout, I got to comfortably swing a kettlebell for the first time in months. The sweating, breathing, chalk, floor contact, and effort made a glorious combination.
Other than a great workout, I had some hilarious work meetings, texted some friends, went to Costco for steak and eggs, walked Arvid, finished “Running the Table” by L. Jon Wertheim (super entertaining book), and ate a gigantic homemade ground beef burrito.
The bad news today was that my second cousin Eric passed away kind of suddenly. It’s been a very long time since I saw Eric, but, even though he was a Bulls fan, I knew him to be a sweet and funny man who took care of his family. A few quick memories about Eric…
One time, my dad took our family to Champaign, Illinois, for a Michigan-Illinois football game where it happened to be Red Grange Day at the stadium. I remember so many details about that day. At the time, Eric was a student at the University of Illinois, and we went to say hello to him at his frat house. I was a pretty young kid, so walking through a major college frat house was a totally new experience for me. People were partying before the game, drinking beer and blasting music. Eric walked us into one of the bedrooms and there was this sort of suspended/lofted bunk bed held up by chains that went up through the ceiling and roof before wrapping around the chimney. It was quite a setup. Oh, and my prepubescent self was mesmerized by some of the bikini-clad ladies found on the posters covering the bedroom walls. Can’t forget that.
Later in that trip, we went to dinner at someone’s house, and I, of course, was wearing my Michigan Wolverines hat. Eric and I got to talking about hats and we both agreed that we liked what my buddy Hammer and I always called, “comfy hats.” Comfy hats have more of a relaxed, slouched look that fits closer to one’s head. Nowadays, it’s popular to call them “dad hats.” Anyways, my Michigan hat had the mesh under the crown to give it more of a structured, high-top look. Eric told me that I could easily fix that by taking some scissors and just cutting the mesh out. As soon as I got home, I snuck into my bedroom, cut the mesh out, and improved the fit of my hat by at least a factor of four.
Another time, and I don’t even remember when or where this was, our whole family was out to eat at a restaurant. Eric came back to the table from the bathroom and made a comment about water all over the floor in the men’s room. He went on to explain that there was a guy cleaning the restroom who had never used a mop wringer before or something because he dipped the mop in water and then just spread the wet mop all over the floor until there was about an inch of water. The way Eric told the story while laughing his way through it was just hysterical. You probably had to be there, but I got a kick out of it.
Love the people in your life. All of them.
Nice Little Saturday and Communication
Today was supposed to be the Celtic Classic up in Bethlehem, but it’s pouring down rain so we decided to skip it. That’s a bummer, because the Celtic is one of our favorite signs of fall. There is nothing like standing out on the street drinking Guinness and watching Highland Games before the parade of bagpipe bands comes down the main drag and everyone flocks to the food stands for some Scottish grub.
The good news is I got to spend the day with Cali and Arvid, my two favorite creatures in the whole wide world. Life has been so busy lately that it seems like we haven’t had a day to just shut everything down and chill out together. Arvid and I got out for a rain walk earlier this morning while Cali went to yoga. I’ve made it through about 30 pages of Stephen King’s “The Dark Half.” Cali and I got out and ran some errands. Went to the Halloween store (got a sweet Camp Crystal lake sign), picked up some way overpriced Eagles apparel, swapped an empty propane tank at Home Depot. You know, a nice little Saturday for a couple in their late-30s. The rain is still coming down as I write this in the early afternoon, and that’s just fine by me. I’m enjoying chilling on the couch and watching some college football, but I am hoping to get down to Broomall later to watch some friends compete in a jiu-jitsu tournament.
I’ve gotten some good feedback recently about how I interact with friends and coworkers. It’s really important to me to show up for others, and I do my best to build rapport and relationships with just about everyone in my life. Making these connections has become a very natural thing for me. Checking in with someone, remembering a detail about something they have going on, offering help, listening, asking questions, empathizing. All of these things have helped me develop friendships at work, the gym, the dog park, and within my neighborhood. People have told me that I make others feel comfortable, and I’ve been thinking about this quite a bit. There is a lot more to be written about my approach to establishing meaningful connections with others. Not like I’m some kind of guru or something. Hell, I may have no clue what I’m talking about on this subject. But something has been working for me lately, and I hope to keep expanding my network of friends and contacts.
Read a Book! Read a Book! Read a Mothaf!@#in’ Book!
I’ve pretty much been in love with books my entire life. My mom was an elementary teacher, and my dad will tell you that the scholarly bent of my two older sisters and me comes from my mom. My mom was always reading some kind of book, especially on long family road trips when she would have a bunch of novels (some of them undoubtedly by Danielle Steel) in her canvas Lands’ End tote bag that she kept by her feet in the front passenger seat of my dad’s ‘88 Suburban. As my dad drove across endless miles of the continental United States, my sisters and I would mimic my mom and often have our noses in a book. Sure, I played my Gameboy, Kristin made jewelry, and Stacy followed our route in my dad’s well-worn Rand McNally Road Atlas while calling out U-Hauls from different states, but reading was definitely the favorite pastime for everyone on a typical 800-mile day of driving. Stacy would tear through books at an alarming rate, so naturally my brain turned to competition mode as I tried to keep up with her.
One time we were on a family vacation to Washington, D.C., when Stacy started feeling bad enough that my parents took her to an urgent care place at a hospital (it turned out she had mono). My dad and I were just sitting outside on these benches killing time, and he bought me a paperback copy of “Jurassic Park” by Michael Crichton from the gift shop. This was kind of a big moment for me in life, because that was the first real adult book I ever read. Before that, it had been “Hardy Boys” and “Boxcar Children” and “The Adventures of Tom Sawyer” and other kids fare. We spent a few days in D.C., taking the metro from our hotel down to see all the attractions in and around the capitol. I felt so grown-up riding the train around a big city while sitting there engrossed in my adult novel.
All through elementary school, we had the Pizza Hut Book-It promotion thing where we got coupons for personal pan pizzas if we read so many books. To be honest, I didn’t even care about the pizza. I cared about the big chart on the wall that showed how many books everyone in the class had read. Finishing a book and putting a check next to my name gave me great satisfaction. I guess you could say I was, what’s the word, a dork.
The first day of seventh grade found me in Mrs. Daley’s English class where we had a whole unit that centered around “The Outsiders” by S.E. Hinton. We had been assigned a chapter or two of reading the first week of the unit, but I remember sitting in my bedroom and finishing the entire book in one night. Mrs. Daley suggested I check out a few other books by Hinton, so I tore through “Rumble Fish” and “Tex” over the next week or so. There was just something so fun and peaceful and engrossing when it came to reading books. I began to make it a point to always have a book with me so that if I finished my class work or had a study hall, I could read a few pages to pass the time. This is a practice I’ve carried on to this day. In the back of my head, I’m always thinking about what happens if my car breaks down or I end up in a situation where I have to wait around several hours for something. At least I’ll have a book with me to productively pass the time.
Middle school was when I really got into reading John Grisham after receiving “The Client” as a Christmas present. Those Grisham books from the mid-90s had me convinced I wanted to be a lawyer, but that dream kind of fell by the wayside over the years. Back then, I just didn’t have a vision for what I could do in life. I figured I’d be a teacher in my small home town and that would be that. Oh well, it all worked out for the best.
High school English class had me reading all kinds of stuff that felt more like work than a favorite pastime. We slogged through “Beowulf” and “The Hobbit” and stuff by Homer and Shakespeare. I realize these are all timeless works, but it wasn’t what I wanted to be reading in my mid-teens. It was cool during senior year when Mrs. Myllyla gave us the option of picking what we wanted to read from a handful of books. She encouraged me to read “A Tale of Two Cities” by Charles Dickens, and I obliged because 1) it looked interesting, and 2) I was madly in love with Mrs. Myllyla. That book got me on a whole classics kick, and I remember reading “David Copperfield” in the car on our family vacation to Myrtle Beach that spring. It was also during that stretch that I realized that just because something is considered a classic doesn’t mean it’s good. Or at least maybe it’s just not for me.
I also remember this one ridiculously smart girl in high school who was a reading machine. Not surprisingly, I always found her super attractive. She always had a big book with her, and I specifically remember her carrying around some classic Stephen King works like “It” and “The Tommyknockers.” At the time, I had no idea that Stephen King basically had a whole universe woven together through his many books and stories. I just figured he wrote horror stories for the masses. Well, 20+ years and 35 or so King books later, and I feel comfortable calling myself a true fan of his work.
Throughout college, I made it a point to always have a book going on the side of my regular school work. Classes would get busy and I’d have lots of homework and reading to do for school, but I knew there was value in reading for pleasure on my own. It became a great escape from the formal drudgery imposed by my professors. Some nights I would retreat to the secluded cubicles on the third floor of the library where I knew I could get 30 minutes of uninterrupted reading. It was pretty cozy sitting there in silence reading my book and watching the snow fly outside the north and east panoramic windows that surrounded that corner of the building.
Since college, I’ve tried to read a little bit of everything. One year at Christmas, I asked for a book about Jesus and a book about Sonny Barger, one of the early leaders of the Hells Angels. Both books were great, by the way. If you look at any of my annual book list blog entries, you’ll see that my reading genres are all over the map. I try to hit up every subject I can find, although I’m admittedly weak in certain areas like philosophy and fantasy. My typical practice is to have two books going at once, one on my Kindle and one hard copy book. Being able to jump between the two books is like changing TV channels. It can help keep things fresh and moving along. Some people don’t like using e-readers because they just love the feel of a real book. I totally get that, but for me, my Kindle is an amazing reading tool that lets me read before bed at night without needing to have a light on and disturbing my wife Cali. Kindles are also great for bringing several books on a trip without the bulk and space of actual books. Real books do provide a much better experience when things like maps and graphs are essential to the story, but e-readers still have a place in my reading toolbox.
There are many books that are tied to certain memories and time periods in my life. In the summer of 2006, I worked as a counselor for the Upward Bound Regional Math and Science program at Northern Michigan University in Marquette, Michigan. “I Escaped From Auschwitz” by Rudolf Vrba and “The Count of Monte Cristo” by Alexandre Dumas were my companions that summer. My buddy Ben, one of the other counselors, was equally obsessed with books, and I always enjoyed hearing about what he was reading. When I spent a semester in Germany in the spring of 2007, I tore through, among others, “The Jungle” by Upton Sinclair and “Cell” by Stephen King. Some of this reading was done in this cool little public park near downtown Bamberg, one of the coolest cities in the world. December 2019 found me on my way to Chattanooga, Tennessee, for two weeks of training for work. I had a painful tooth in need of a root canal that was scheduled to be fixed when I got back, but fortunately reading about the Bataan death march (“Tears in the Darkness” by Michael and Elizabeth Norman) kept me from feeling too sorry for myself. Fifteen years ago, I had to appear before a judge in Phoenix (Arizona) Municipal Court over a misdemeanor ticket I got for drinking in public outside of a “Brooks and Dunn” and “ZZ Top” concert. I sat there in the courtroom awaiting my turn and reading my current book, which happened to be, fittingly, “Crime and Punishment” by Fyodor Dostoevsky. I could give a million examples, but you get the point.
Books will always be a part of my life, and I hope my mind never deteriorates to the point where I can no longer immerse myself in a good book. If I can ever help with a book recommendation, or if you have a recommendation for me, please reach out. I’d love to hear from you.
Oh, and I know the title of this post is rude, but it’s from this hilarious rap video that I’ve watched a thousand times. It was first introduced to me by this real nerdy Navy buddy of mine. And I don’t call him nerdy as an insult. He knows he’s nerdy, and I have no doubt he would agree with that label. Not only does this song encourage the listener to read a book, but it offers other helpful life advice. Enjoy!
Camping with Friends 2023
I recently made a long drive back to Michigan to spend a weekend camping with friends. Much like two years ago, this was an amazing time filled with laughter and love. We ate, drank, told stories we’ve told a million times before, made fun of each other, admired kids and careers and dogs. This is a group of lifelong friends, and, as always, it will be too long before I get to see them all again.
Friday night meant rain and some dampness in the tent. Saturday night a raccoon unsuccessfully tried to get into our tent, so it took a shit and kicked it all over the back of the tent instead. Both brought laughter and running commentary from my friends and me.
We stayed just a few miles from a Lake Michigan beach. Saturday was pretty much the most beautiful weather imaginable, so we all headed to the lake to soak up the sun and play in the amazing waves. Maybe it’s something about the Great Lakes that always makes the beaches feel so laid back. There were dogs running around off the leash, people responsibly drinking beer from coolers they brought, kids playing everywhere. It was just beautiful.
Time marches on and we’re all getting older. Stay grateful for the memories and the friends who make them.
Jiu-Jitsu Thoughts
Today, Friday August 18, 2023, got off to a perfect start. I was fortunate enough to get to go train with the 0530 morning crew at the jiu-jitsu gym.
The morning crew is a special group of people. These are savages who wake up well before sunrise, drag their asses out of bed, and drive to a place where there is a very real chance of getting completely humbled, choked out, banged up, and even embarrassed. In the winter months, the gym and mats are cold, and it’s still dark out by the time training wraps up around 0645. Everything is just a little bit colder and harder, which just adds to the fun.
There is an unknown day, hopefully in the very distant future, where I will not be able to train jiu-jitsu any more. Father Time is undefeated, and that day lies in wait for us all.
That’s why I savor every opportunity I get to train with the morning crew. Imagine getting to start your day with a group of people who keep showing up for the sole purpose of trying to make themselves, and everyone around them, better. Not everyone gets to be surrounded by that kind of energy, fortitude, and comradery first thing in the morning. It’s a wonderful thing.
This picture is from August 25, 2023. We’re missing a few regulars, but this is a great crew.
August
When I was a kid, August was always a special month. Yes, it was still technically summer vacation, but my friends and I began the month of August knowing what was ahead.
The first Monday in August always meant the start of two weeks of two-a-day football practices. It would be hot and sweaty. The locker room would reek to high hell and everything was grass-stained. We lifted throughout June and July, but August was when shit got real. It seemed like there wasn’t a second where you didn’t have a coach in your face screaming and yelling about one thing or another. You had to keep your head on a swivel because the hitting drills were endless, and one bad practice could cost you playing time.
August also meant the beginning of a new school year. Class all day followed by a two-hour football practice made for a long day, but new teachers, subjects, friends, and girls made it all a blast. It seemed like there were endless opportunities to connect with new people, add to established friendships, and learn new things.
I loved it all.
It’s All Connected
A friend recently told me about his 22-year old son who just graduated from college. Ordinarily, a college diploma opens up a world of possibilities for a young person. Yes, going from college to the workforce can be a tough transition, but it should be a fun and exciting time in life. Instead, this young man is back living at his parents’ house, staying up all night playing video games, and eating a shitty standard American diet. He has no discipline or routine. Hell, he barely even goes outside to get some sunlight. Working out at the gym was very important to him during college, but that has fallen by the wayside. He’s on medication for depression and anxiety, but for some reason, the pharmaceutical companies don’t seem to be solving his problems.
So many people are stuck in a cycle of bullshit brought on by things that are considered normal in modern society. There are commonalities for everyone who is living life with no routine, discipline, and/or purpose. I have family, friends, coworkers, and acquaintances who have dealt with many of these same issues. It’s truly amazing that more people don’t realize that all of this shit is connected. If you pay attention even a little bit, you’ll notice that all of these things usually go together. Lack of sleep, no routine, shitty eating habits, a diet consisting of lots of processed junk, being overweight, minimal exercise, a slew of pharmaceutical drugs, anxiety, depression, lack of sunlight and vitamin D, the inability to focus, mindless scrolling through social media, etc.
Everything in America today is about seeking comfort. Sit inside in the air conditioning playing on your phone having junk food delivered to your door. Take a pill for absolutely every ache and pain and emotion. Never get hot, sweaty, or sore. Just stay numb all over, distracted by social media and the next superhero movie debuting soon.
It really makes me worried about where we’re headed.
Wake-Up Call
I went to see a physical therapist about my right hip recently. I’ve been really annoyed with the constant tightness that’s plagued my right side from my lower back all the way down through my groin and hamstring. It’s affected my ability to lift exactly how I want and has kept me up in the night at times. Basically, I’ve been feeling sorry for myself and thinking my life is over. I was definitely due for a wake-up call.
I arrived at the PT office early and found a seat on a box near the door. I had my trusty Kindle with me so I figured I’d just sit there and read until my appointment time. It was uncomfortable to sit as my nagging hip continued its constant reminder that something isn’t right.
Although I couldn’t see anyone else in the place, I could hear some conversation coming from a back room as one of the PTs worked with a patient. It seemed like a normal small talk conversation with intermittent fan bike noises as the patient did some interval sprints. Eventually, the PT and his patient came out to the main room where I was sitting. The patient was a young kid who couldn’t have been more than 13 or 14 years old, and it took me a second to register that he was missing a leg. I sat there quietly while this kid and his PT worked through some floor presses. From their discussion, I learned that this dude recently finished a round of chemotherapy and was missing a leg because he had bone cancer and had to have it amputated. Holy hell…here I am sitting there feeling sorry for myself because my hip is kind of sore, and this kid is bravely and casually facing the rest of his life with only one leg. What a wake-up call. I wanted to kick my own ass for being such a crybaby about my circumstances.
Get your head out of your ass and quit feeling sorry for yourself.