ESPN's got 30 for 30. I've got 40 for 40. Forty things I've learned in my 40th year.
1. Just when you think you've maxed out the love for the people you care about most, they will surprise you -- or you'll surprise yourself -- by how much more you can love them and how much more they can love you.
2. Stick up for yourself. You are worth it.
3. Don't discuss politics on Facebook. Your friendships are not worth your attempts at clever turns of phrase and rhetoric.
4. That being said, Mark Twain was right about the human race.
5. There is no better place to celebrate your birthday than at the Third Ward Social Club and Klimek's Tavern in North Tonawanda, N.Y.
6. When in doubt, trade in the Subaru. NOT the Toyota. Though if you had, the Toyota would have needed as many repairs as the Subaru.
7. I don't mind gray hair and whiskers.
8. Anxiety is for suckers.
9. Buy a drum set. It's more fun than humans should be allowed to have.
10. Play guitar every day.
11. Play bass every day, too.
12. The Bills will do just enough to make you think they're finally going to beat a good team and turn the corner, then kick you squarely in the groin.
13. When you let your kid try something new and a little scary -- to you, at least -- the rewards are not just hers alone. You realize that you can let go at the same time she learns that she can fly.
14. Growing in faith reminds you of the stuff in life that really matters and brings out the better person you were meant to be.
15. You play the regular season so you can have Game 7 at home. It matters.
16. It's not easy to stick to your principles when everyone else is discarding theirs. But in the end, whether your argument carries the day or is ignored, it's a lot easier to look in the mirror, sleep, eat, etc.
17. It's not healthy to hold grudges. They will eat you from the inside out.
18. Don't dwell on things in the past you can't change. It's a waste of time.
19. Next time, buy the Neko Case tickets and stop being so darned responsible.
20. Trust the people you love the most and who love you the most.
21. Don't be afraid of yourself or your own ability.
22. Regrets are a crappy way to live your life. Don't do it.
23. Eat less. You're not missing anything.
24. You are not your job and your job is not you. That paradigm might have worked for your immigrant ancestors trying to carve out a niche in this country, but that was then and this is now -- and it's not good for you.
25. When you turn 40, your metabolism slows to a crawl but the hair on your ear and in your nose grows like kudzu.
26. Listen to your daughter and buy a real Christmas tree.
27. Make the effort to connect (or re-connect) with your extended family. You'll realize you're not alone in the world and learn more about yourself.
28. You don't have to "take your talents to South Beach" to be happy.
29. Some clever ideas were not meant to be implemented.
30. It's startling how someone you never met can affect your life and perspective in ways you never realized until he or she was suddenly gone. RIP George M. Parks
31. Every recipe turns out better when Sofia helps. Even if the pie looks homely or the pasta turns out funny, it's so worth it.
32. If you don't want the hot water to come out cold and the cold water to come out hot, hire a plumber.
33. Don't ride a waterslide head-first if you don't want to re-injure your thumb.
34. Next time, cut out the middle man and bring the stuff to Goodwill instead of holding a tag sale at which everyone touches your stuff, but no one buys it.
35. Don't be surprised when your six-year-old daughter screams the name of her friend-who-is-a-boy and runs past you without so much as a "bye, dad." I knew it was coming ... but so soon?
36. I love going out to dinner with Sofia -- just her and me.
37. It's a beautiful thing to realize, when Sofia does the right thing by a friend or family member and makes us truly proud, that we've actually done OK so far as parents.
38. Everything they've told you about Mexican Coca-Cola is true.
39. Don't mess with supermarket chicken salad.
40. Dinner tastes better when you get to watch it catch fire right in front of you.
Thursday, January 06, 2011
Wednesday, January 05, 2011
armies of the road
If you live just about anywhere in this country, you have seen them.
Men and women waiting for you at train stations, on city streets and busy highway intersections and offramps. Their clothes and faces wear the strain of nights spent in the cold. They're as frayed about the edges as the cardboard signs that spell out the circumstances of their lives.
The odd thing is, those signs are usually not easy to read from your car window, or from a distance on the street. But the point isn't to guide you to an exit or a coffee shop. It's a life story in magic marker, written by someone who wants you to understand.
They wait, with a hand out or a coffee can, hoping you'll take pity.
Maybe you've given a quarter or a dollar to one of these people once in a while.
Maybe you haven't.
Perhaps, you were once suckered by someone's sob story – you know the one, about the wallet that got locked in the car that got towed and he needs whatever you can afford for a bus or train home? And five minutes later, when you saw that same person buying cigarettes or making a cell phone call or trying the same heartfelt, desperate story on a tourist, you decided: No more. And so you folded the con artists and phonies in with the drug addicts and drunks – recovering or otherwise – who were appealing to you for your money.
After all, who are you to be judge and jury of their lives? How can you tell the frauds from the genuine hard-luck cases? Who's really sober and who's lying so convincingly that even he or she believes it?
Maybe you've said it, maybe you've heard it and maybe you believe it: They're just lazy. They would not be out here if they really wanted to get better and get a grip on life. They wouldn't be living under the expressway or an abandoned building or spending days on the street and nights in shelters and ATM vestibules. They'd go to AA, take their meds, summon the willpower to give up the bottle or the pipe, whatever it takes. But they don't. So they're here. Day after miserable day.
So you don't believe anyone. You keep your head down and your hands in your pockets and you don't make eye contact as you cross the street or drive by, windows up and doors locked.
You're hardly alone in this regard. And it's not like you were their only hope, right? There are people in this country willing to help them help themselves.
But there's a question to which you don't know the answer.
Who was it you passed on your way to the office this morning?
Was she a bank teller or an account executive? Did he teach, write or fix cars? Have their families given up all hope and forgotten them? Did their friends write them off? Do they have children?
Maybe he was Ted Williams, an ex-radio announcer who somehow wound up begging for change and a clean start in life at a highway ramp in Columbus, Ohio. Maybe he got sobedr after problems with alcohol and drugs, but after all those years of damaging his own life and damaging relationships, there really was nowhere to go, no one to believe in him and no other options.
Until someone wanted to hear his story.
I hope that story's true - and ends well this time.
Men and women waiting for you at train stations, on city streets and busy highway intersections and offramps. Their clothes and faces wear the strain of nights spent in the cold. They're as frayed about the edges as the cardboard signs that spell out the circumstances of their lives.
The odd thing is, those signs are usually not easy to read from your car window, or from a distance on the street. But the point isn't to guide you to an exit or a coffee shop. It's a life story in magic marker, written by someone who wants you to understand.
They wait, with a hand out or a coffee can, hoping you'll take pity.
Maybe you've given a quarter or a dollar to one of these people once in a while.
Maybe you haven't.
Perhaps, you were once suckered by someone's sob story – you know the one, about the wallet that got locked in the car that got towed and he needs whatever you can afford for a bus or train home? And five minutes later, when you saw that same person buying cigarettes or making a cell phone call or trying the same heartfelt, desperate story on a tourist, you decided: No more. And so you folded the con artists and phonies in with the drug addicts and drunks – recovering or otherwise – who were appealing to you for your money.
After all, who are you to be judge and jury of their lives? How can you tell the frauds from the genuine hard-luck cases? Who's really sober and who's lying so convincingly that even he or she believes it?
Maybe you've said it, maybe you've heard it and maybe you believe it: They're just lazy. They would not be out here if they really wanted to get better and get a grip on life. They wouldn't be living under the expressway or an abandoned building or spending days on the street and nights in shelters and ATM vestibules. They'd go to AA, take their meds, summon the willpower to give up the bottle or the pipe, whatever it takes. But they don't. So they're here. Day after miserable day.
So you don't believe anyone. You keep your head down and your hands in your pockets and you don't make eye contact as you cross the street or drive by, windows up and doors locked.
You're hardly alone in this regard. And it's not like you were their only hope, right? There are people in this country willing to help them help themselves.
But there's a question to which you don't know the answer.
Who was it you passed on your way to the office this morning?
Was she a bank teller or an account executive? Did he teach, write or fix cars? Have their families given up all hope and forgotten them? Did their friends write them off? Do they have children?
Maybe he was Ted Williams, an ex-radio announcer who somehow wound up begging for change and a clean start in life at a highway ramp in Columbus, Ohio. Maybe he got sobedr after problems with alcohol and drugs, but after all those years of damaging his own life and damaging relationships, there really was nowhere to go, no one to believe in him and no other options.
Until someone wanted to hear his story.
I hope that story's true - and ends well this time.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Dried Nutmeg
We haven't gotten significant rainfall around here in a long, long time.
Here's some statistical proof. And some more.
The current rainfall for September in North Stepford Falls? 0.44 inches.
The monthly historical average for the month? 4.80 inches.
Funny, when we moved here five years ago, our first fall was marked by seven straight days of rain that wound up flooding the basement and having to call the North Stepford Falls Volunteer FD to pump the water out.
The front yard doesn't look completely brown ... not yet at least. The ground's pretty dry, though. The ground where we live is pretty sandy, which is great when it gets enough water. Too much or too little, not so good. Too much and it drains too slowly and it floods. Too little ... well it looks like it does now.
Meanwhile, despite the fact UConn is on a Stage II Drought Watch, the neighbors' sprinklers click on every day, keeping their lawn lush and green -- and this is not to single them out, because they're hardly alone in that regard.
Does this make me want sprinklers? No.
The lawn care industry is a multi-billion dollar industry. But stop and think about that for a minute: How much water, fertilizer and labor is spent on a cash crop that only animals with hooves can eat?
Not wishing for a hurricane, but some rain would be nice.
Good thing climate change is a myth, eh?
Here's some statistical proof. And some more.
The current rainfall for September in North Stepford Falls? 0.44 inches.
The monthly historical average for the month? 4.80 inches.
Funny, when we moved here five years ago, our first fall was marked by seven straight days of rain that wound up flooding the basement and having to call the North Stepford Falls Volunteer FD to pump the water out.
The front yard doesn't look completely brown ... not yet at least. The ground's pretty dry, though. The ground where we live is pretty sandy, which is great when it gets enough water. Too much or too little, not so good. Too much and it drains too slowly and it floods. Too little ... well it looks like it does now.
Meanwhile, despite the fact UConn is on a Stage II Drought Watch, the neighbors' sprinklers click on every day, keeping their lawn lush and green -- and this is not to single them out, because they're hardly alone in that regard.
Does this make me want sprinklers? No.
The lawn care industry is a multi-billion dollar industry. But stop and think about that for a minute: How much water, fertilizer and labor is spent on a cash crop that only animals with hooves can eat?
Not wishing for a hurricane, but some rain would be nice.
Good thing climate change is a myth, eh?
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
News tidbits from the Conn. 5th District, Volume 1
So Republican challenger Sam Caliguri wants 41 debates in 41 towns with the incumbent, Chris Murphy.
This is crazy. But not for the reasons you think I think it's crazy.
If an alien from another planet -- say, Massachusetts? -- visited the district, he or she would think Sam Caliguri is the incumbent and running unopposed.
Chris Murphy might be the second-term incumbent but right now he might as well be in hiding. I have not seen a bumper sticker, a lawn sign, a canvasser, a TV ad (though apparently one just started airing), and certainly not the Congressman.
All I have seen are Sam's signs, and plenty of them. Sam's people came through the neighborhood during the primary. Sam beat two GOP opponents to get here. He's got momentum and a ground game and as any football fan will tell you, those things make for a tough playoff contender come late fall.
As for said Murphy TV ad, I'm not impressed. Heck, Bllly Mays runs TV ads. And he's been dead for a year.
So why extend Murph 41 shots at free publicity? Why would you give a guy who beat Nancy Johnson -- when she was an 11-term incumbent -- an easy way to win points off you in every town in the district? Why not make him spend some of that million-dollar war chest?
You voted how you voted, Murph; if you want to go back to DC in January, you need to get out there and stand behind it, and firmly. Waiting until the fall and running ads showing you riding your bike isn't going to make all that anger go away.
So no, Sam, 41 debates, one for every town in the 5th, are a Very Bad Idea. Keep doing what you're doing and let people forget that your party caused the recession. It seems to be working.
This is crazy. But not for the reasons you think I think it's crazy.
If an alien from another planet -- say, Massachusetts? -- visited the district, he or she would think Sam Caliguri is the incumbent and running unopposed.
Chris Murphy might be the second-term incumbent but right now he might as well be in hiding. I have not seen a bumper sticker, a lawn sign, a canvasser, a TV ad (though apparently one just started airing), and certainly not the Congressman.
All I have seen are Sam's signs, and plenty of them. Sam's people came through the neighborhood during the primary. Sam beat two GOP opponents to get here. He's got momentum and a ground game and as any football fan will tell you, those things make for a tough playoff contender come late fall.
As for said Murphy TV ad, I'm not impressed. Heck, Bllly Mays runs TV ads. And he's been dead for a year.
So why extend Murph 41 shots at free publicity? Why would you give a guy who beat Nancy Johnson -- when she was an 11-term incumbent -- an easy way to win points off you in every town in the district? Why not make him spend some of that million-dollar war chest?
You voted how you voted, Murph; if you want to go back to DC in January, you need to get out there and stand behind it, and firmly. Waiting until the fall and running ads showing you riding your bike isn't going to make all that anger go away.
So no, Sam, 41 debates, one for every town in the 5th, are a Very Bad Idea. Keep doing what you're doing and let people forget that your party caused the recession. It seems to be working.
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