Lost @ Kenmore

My dad invited me to a Red Sox game last week, the first ever. He's more of a Sox fan, and I'm more of a Boston fan. Anyway, I arrived at Kenmore Square at about quarter-to-seven, and I barely recognized the place. First of all, 99 percent of all the times I'm been to Kenmore Square have been long after the sun had descended. Also, with all the renovation since in the last few years, I didn't know if I was coming or going.

The Lion Is Gone But His Dream Shall Never Die

My first contact with Senator Edward Moore Kennedy was when I filed for a Green Card on my father's behalf. As with a lot of processes born of federal bureaucracies, this one got terribly boughed down in blind alleys and red herrings, finally ending in a stalemate. My fathers file wasn't moving forward due to some discrepancies, of which I had no clue.

After hearing my complaints, my mother (being my mother) said, "write Senator Kennedy", the way a friend might tell you to get your oldest brother if that bully keeps bothering you. I told her, I can't write Senator Kennedy. That's would be like calling the Queen of England over some disputed parking tickets, or so I thought. My mother then broke it down. She told me that he was MY senator, and it was his responsibility to get letters from people like you, and respond to them.

People like me? My mother must have heard my thought, for she continued, "just tell him you were in the Army." "But I'm no longer in the Army," I replied. What I would remember later was that Sen. Kennedy's oldest brother had fought and died in World War II. My mother wasn't trying to get me to game the system, she was just trying to get into my skull that I was relevant enough to write a letter to the Sen. Kennedy, and expect, if not demand a response.

I wrote the best letter I knew how to write, and I endorsed it with my military rank, grade, and status. I figured it would get to his office and go right into the circular file. After all, you called Sen. Kennedy when you needed the Charles River parted and Jesus wasn't available because he was doing his fishes and loaves thing on the Boston Common.

A few weeks later, I got a response on letterhead. I almost passed out. I showed my mother the letter, and she smirked with a, told you, look in her eyes. When she actually read the letter, she was disappointed. An aid on his behalf said, basically, that the dear Senator's hands were tied on my issue. I was still on, Senator Kennedy's office REPLIED to my letter. It changed my perspective our political system. That We The People stuff...actually meant something. Oddly enough, my dad's detente with the INS mysterious resolved itself, and he received his green card a couple of months later.

I saw Senator Kennedy for the first, last, and only time as a guest of a friend to his naturalization ceremony. True to form, Sen. Kennedy had arranges thing so the decommissioning of the USS John F. Kennedy aircraft carrier, and the ceremony could be held on the same weekend. So, I got to not only get a first look at the carrier before the general population, but got to hear Sen. Kennedy speak at the ceremony.

He waxed eloquently about all of us being a nation of immigrants regardless of how many generations removed, and how it was the engine of the United States. I wanted to talk to Sen. Kennedy, but I thought the men and women in uniform ought to have first dibs. Plus, I was grossly late for work. What was a near hurricane gale outside was contrasted by the warmth of the lion's roar inside.

Senator Ted Kennedy's legacy to me is best captured in his quote:

"For all those whose cares have been our concern, the work goes on, the cause endures, the hope still lives, and the dream shall never die."

What's All This Technology For?

• Facebook

• Twitter

• E-mail

• Smartphones

The best thing they do is help you smile or help someone you care about smile. Everything else is just frosting.

The Stuff In The Basement

I just finished watching Rocky Balboa, after a strong recommendation from an unlikely source. The movie did not disappoint, and is a great reminder of why I like Stallone's work and always have.

In the film (mini-spoiler alert) Rocky is in a scene with his brother-in-law. He talks about the reason he's getting back into the ring is because he's still got some "stuff in the basement". I thought it was a great metaphor of the realization one has that they still got one more round in 'em. One still has something to prove. Maybe not a whole lot, but enough to put it all on the line, one more time. Enough to risk getting hit hard and knocked the #$%@ out.

There are so many reasons in life to give up, give in, and settle for inertia, or worse, mediocrity. A bunch of them are even logical. It's especially easy when you've got dependents, or you're at mid-life or beyond, or you're sick, or you're broke, or you're (insert excuse here). The body's not what it used to be. Maybe the energy now comes in spurts, instead of the torrent of youth. Perhaps a slow burn now replaces what was once an inferno. It's clear...you're past your peak.

You're now most likely to be overlooked, than looked over. People who know you and love you admonish you for letting pride deceive you into a comeback. At the edge of it, you may even begin to doubt yourself.

Then you remember the stuff in the basement. The pilot light only in need of some gas. The eye of the tiger. O fogo na barriga (the fire in the belly). You remember that to get up eight times is to fall seven times. You remember that fighters fight.

The End of Summer

The bottom part of Summer is my favorite part. Although Summer officially ends (in the U.S.) mid-September. Growing up, and once you have school-aged children, September equals school. So, the bottom have of half of Summer is really all you got left.

So hurry up! You have time for...

One more BBQ
One more road-trip
One more pool party
One more beach trip
One more camping trip
One more trip to the museum
One more trip the aquarium
One more trip to the drive-in
One more dinner under the star
One more dip in your birthday suit
One more motorcycle rally
One more soccer match
One more bike ride
One more summer romance with the one you're with, or the one you've just met
One more dance outside
One more live band
One more story of a summer past

Issue 100 - Be You Because Everybody Else Is Taken

The hundredth post. I remember back in my comic collecting days, where the next must have issue after the first, was the hundredth. Who knows if this will be such a post? Does it matter? To whom?

The path and vibe of this blog has changed since I started it last year, and I've decided that it's for the better. I'm being me versus someone else, so it works.

To Chris Guillebeau's point (Google "Art of Non-Conformity" for a proper intro to Chris G.), there's no point trying to be someone other than oneself. One, it can't be sustained. Two, if you ever get found out, you'll be vilified for admitting you were pretending to be someone else.

I learned almost a decade ago that (as a writer) you never, ever know what piece of writing you do that will strike a chord with people. However, I do know this. If that writing lit you up when you were writing it...odds are, it'll light up the reader too.

A-ha Moment of the Week

Don't let money (or lack of it) determine your station in life.

Cancer

It's the time of Cancer if you are into the zodiac. I've also just discovered I have two people close to me, who have cancer. An odd thing. Both people, I haven't spoken to in a long time. Both are two very different people with different ways of dealing with adversity.

Cancer not unlike it's great-grandfather, death, is a substantial equalizer. No matter who you are, or where you are from, when you get the diagnosis, I don't suspect you can buy, talk, or seduce your way out of it. Like Nitrogen in the atmosphere, it just is.

Since I've yet to have cancer, I'm going on supposition rather than personal experience. Kind of like knowing someone who's had sex, versus having sex oneself.

What will help me be useful to my two people is that I have had someone close to me deteriorate, and eventually die of a terminal illness. I listen more than I talk. I pray from them. I asked them to call me if they want to talk. When I tell them I'll call them, and I do. It's also really easy to do that"..as we forgive those to trespass against us" part of the Lord's Prayer. I also keep living with them; and if they do depart before I do, I live better because of them.

Praying For The Impossible

What do you have to lose?

Some Thoughts On Abundance

There is enough...

• money in the world
• time in the world
• work to do in the world
• love in the world
• food in the world
• square footage of living space in the world
• water in the world

The problem is...

• belief in the above
• distribution
  

The Marathon That Is Marriage

Yesterday, I took one of those Facebook notes (i.e. questionnaire) the spouse of a former co-worker sent to me. This one was different, and titled: Your Marriage. It was a series of whos, whats, and whens about the sender's marriage with the request that the recipient reciprocate, and then tags some friends as well, to keep the ball rolling.

This was the first time I had to really recollect things like our first date, when did we get serious, who asked who out, etc. The affect it had on my psyche was that of a cool, summer evening breeze, after a hot afternoon.

I was transported back for a moment to those heady days (and nights) of courtship, and felt like a teenager again. We are in our fifth year of marriage and with two young children. It's easy for the daily hustle and flow of life to become just a routine one gets used to over the years.

Marriage to me is like a marathon. I'd like to think of our beloved Boston Marathon in particular. It starts beautifully and full of promise in Hopkington, MA, and the finish in Boston can feel like a spectacular triumph, or just the end of a very long and painful journey. Of course, in between you have Heartbreak Hill, named for a good reason; break it or it breaks you.

Unfortunately, most marriage participants don't have the structured training and preparation the average marathoner does. These days, to get past any multiple of four years in marriage is a feat in itself, not to mention stick together long enough to drive the kids to college.

Me? I just past my first multiple of four. The first milestone, years-wise. The honeymoon is long over and raising the kids is all consuming. Yesterday though, put some of that courtship sparkle back in my eye. The wind is at my back today, and I'm running downhill.

Wisdom From "Bird Nest"

Do good things, don't do bad things...The three-year-old understands this, the eighty-year-old has a harder time figuring it out.

This was an excerpt of a show I was watching on PBS today. So simple, yet so seemingly complicated.