Groupon, F*ck Off

There’s a line in one of my favorite Billy Joel songs, “Angry Young Man”, that reads “it’s a comfort to know his intentions are good.” That is where I am going to start regarding my opinion of the recent Groupon/Super Bowl ad controversy and Andrew Mason.

If you haven’t seen it or are unaware of the issue, deal-of-the-day website Groupon ran a series of ads that many viewers found offensive. The reason for the negative response is because the ads appear to mock serious social issues.

In response to the public outcry, Groupon CEO Andrew Mason posted a blog explaining the company’s reasoning for the ads.

As I mentioned earlier, Mason clearly explained the ads are meant to, “highlight the often trivial nature of stuff on Groupon when juxtaposed against bigger world issues, making fun of Groupon.” Mason goes on to compare the campaign, created by ad firm Crispin Porter & Bogusky, to another CP+B Super bowl ad for Hulu. This is where Mason meets his colossal #FAIL point.

The Hulu ad is clearly a joke. It’s a very well conceived and brilliantly delivered, tongue-in-cheek look at TV consumption in America. The audience walks away from the ad knowing that Hulu is poking fun at both themselves and the viewers.

The new Groupon ads do not do that. They don’t even come close.

If you look at them collectively, it is possible to see a theme develop. However, for individuals seeing the ads for the first time, the impact is almost horrific. They come across as at the very least confusing and at their worst, downright insulting.

Mason’s failure was allowing CP+B to affect his voice as well as his vision. Groupon tried to be clever and witty with their ads and the juxtaposition they paint between serious issues and penny-pinching consumerism. What they failed to consider is that social awareness is not meant to be the subject of “Ha ha. Just kidding.” antics.

It’s ironic that a company that has succeeded by providing value to its customers failed to understand that value, in and of itself, exists because of emotion. Value is psychological, and without the emotion we place on a particular good or service, there is no such thing as value.

Social awareness and giving, in turn, is wholly emotional. Millions of people sacrifice their time, money, and at times their very own lives, for causes and efforts in which they deeply believe. Social good bleeds emotion, and it is not something that should be treated with flippant disregard, as was the case with the Groupon ad campaign.

Sure, Andrew Mason can look back and try to retrospectively justify his company’s decision as one of raising awareness for issues while poking fun at themselves. He can attempt to rationalize the campaign by claiming the ads are different and not about traditional self-promotion. Mason may even employ service recovery actions to make clear the ads are indeed about social awareness.

The fact remains, however, the decision to employ this ad campaign was to deliberately create buzz about his company, be it positive or negative. It was a $3 million* investment in creating brand awareness. It was a move designed for the benefit of Groupon at the expense of the millions of people who are emotionally invested in social good and social awareness.

With every action or decision, intention is important. Andrew Mason did not intend to offend his audience. But in a way, he really did.


*Source: http://www.superbowl-commercials.org/1071.html

Sponsored by the Letter 'F'

As I sat down to right this last blog for the month, my mind was inundated with alliteration. My mind was on the month of February, and all I could think about was words that begin with the letter ‘F’. Yes, that includes the ever versatile, never dull to say F-bomb.

So, in honor of the lovely month of February, here is a list of choice F-words that will hopefully recap the month that was, as well as set the tone for the month that will be.

Finish: I mentioned last night I would most likely not be posting blogs as routinely as I did in January. The 30-Day Writing Challenge was fun, and it was indeed a challenge. It allowed me to explore topics I had never considered, as well as find some cathartic moments to help me get over issues that still remained a bit unresolved. However, now that I’ve proven to myself that I can indeed block out time to write on a daily basis, I must be fair to myself and finish writing Volume IV of Lives. The short novel series I began writing in April of 2009 has been living in limbo for some time now. Part of it has been the deliberate hiatus of the project. Part of it has been deliberate avoidance on my part. With Volume III written (albeit unreleased), the story of Cate and Max needs its finality, and this is the month to do that.

Fortify: It’s important for me to review what Lee and I were able to accomplish with our 30-Day Writing Challenge and learn from it. In my case, not only were my eyes opened to new ideas and styles, I was also able to strengthen and reinforce some of the lessons I had learned in the six years I’ve been blogging. Mood has as much to do with writing as muse. It’s amazing how fickle my attitude can be, and what begins as a great plan to sit down and write gets tossed out the window because of a small incident that upsets me. This month reminded me that although it’s great to have a goal to write, you can’t be a slave to your writing. When it’s not there, it’s not there. And if you try to force it, you’re not being true to yourself as a writer or to your audience. Sometimes, it’s okay to just shrug your shoulders and say “fuck it”.

Foresee: One thing I truly enjoyed about the 30-Day Writing Challenge was having a list of topic ideas for each day. Mapping out about what it was I wanted to write resolved half the problems I used to have in terms of writing daily. Before, I’d sit down and think about what to write and I’d be stuck with nothing. With our ‘road map’, however, I would be able to think about the topic as I sat on conference calls. I’d be able to jot notes as I waited for Natalie’s soccer practice to finish. I’d be able to use my morning constitutional as productive time. (Over share?).

So, given the fine fellowship we were able to foster following our first listing of fascinating topics (I told you I had an alliteration avalanche), her is a list of topics and ideas for the month of February. I am not putting any dates to them and I am not listing them in any particular order. This is about looking at a topic and either being able to write about it or letting it steer your imagination in a direction that allows you to write about something else.

Since February is the month of love, several of the topics have love-themed qualities to them. Also, Lee received feedback on one of her posts suggesting the next set of topics be about what ‘we’ can do together. Finally, Lee and I both explored some dark and painful topics in our writing in January. We want this to month to be positive, light-hearted, and fun. Given all that, here’s the list (again, in no particular order).

Happy writing, everyone.

• First Kiss
• First Car
• First Love
• Childhood Crush
• Favorites (Pet, Food, Restaurant, Vacation, TV Show, Actor/Actress, Athlete, Sports Team (Pro), Sports Team (College), Day of the Week, Season of the Year, Shirt, Relative, Book*, Song*, Movie*)
• Describe Yourself as a Sixteen Years Old
• Proudest Professional Moment
• Guilty Pleasures
• Neighbors / Community
• Siblings or Cousin
• Tackling a Home Improvement Projects
• Hobbies
• Causes you love/support
• Common Courtesy
• Common Sense
• Misunderstood Song Lyrics
• Your Role Model
• Mission Work (i.e. could you leave it all to go serve/help others?)
• Tolerance/Understanding (i.e. seeing an argument from the perspective of your adversary)
• One Thing in the World You’d Like to Change

If you think of something you’d like to see added to the list, please feel free to leave a comment below of visit Lee’s site and leave a comment there. Thanks!

* I know these were covered in January, but there may be someone coming across this posting for the first time.

The Masonry of Motherhood

I’m back to writing following a brief hiatus. Camping with my son on Friday night prevented me from writing and publishing a post that evening. Sharing in dinner, laughter, and community with dear friends (not to mention a couple of bottles of wine and some Scotch) precluded my writing routine last night. So now that I had “the weekend off”, I’m here to write the second to last post of the month, and perhaps the last routine post for a while (you’ll have to tune in to Monday night’s post for details).

You’ve seen me write about my kids and also about my wife Lee. My family means so much to me it’s hard to put it into words sometimes, and it’s definitely a challenge to come up with new ways to describe the feelings I get when I think about my wife and my kids. Given all that, I am very remiss in the fact that I don’t write nearly enough about someone so equally special to me and that is such an important part in my life.

My mom is my constant. She is, in a way, the architect of who I am today. Where my dad was more the designer of my persona, I would say my mom was always focused on the engineering aspect of who I was. On top of a deep foundation of family and Catholic fundamentals, my mom placed brick after brick of life lessons, each reinforced with the mortar that was her love, as well as the unwavering rebar that was her strict discipline.

My mom was nothing if not consistent. She never caved to any puppy-dog-eyed please for exception or mercy. She never faltered in ensuring the rules that applied to everyone else also applied to me. It’s as if she measured every brick precisely, none greater than the last, none diminished by any sense of complacency. What made my mom truly remarkable in her masonry of motherhood was her ability to be meticulous. Style was not really important. For my mom, the substance of what she was making would serve to be the measure of value, respect, and integrity.

I love my mom and I truly enjoy her company. I wish we did not live so far apart with her in Miami and me in Tampa. I wish we had the opportunity to interact more and for my kids to be with their grandmother more often. All that being said, no one sets me off or pushes my buttons quite the way my mom does. The last several years have been an exercise in me learning to be more patient with her so as to ensure the limited time we do share is that of quality time. This is especially true given the very recent reminders that mortality is an eventuality, and I don’t want to waste time being upset at or bothered by my mother.

I hate to admit how little I’ve been able to show my mom the love and appreciation she deserves. At the very least we speak weekly and every conversation ends with an exchange of ‘I love you’. Yet, I know that’s not enough. It’s not enough to bank on a phone call. It’s not enough to really on Hallmark cards on Mother’s Day and her birthday. All of that doesn’t even begin to come close to being enough when I consider how my mom has always been there for me. Unwavering. Unassuming. Unbelievably constant.

I don’t know what the solution is in the long run. My life is here in Tampa, and until my kids graduate from high school (2019), my life will remain here in Tampa. I’ve talked to my mom about moving up here to be closer to her grandchildren, and we discussed the many pros and cons to that idea. Still, we each remain resigned to the fact we’ll see each other a handful of times per year and maintain the formal and cordial relationship of mother and son. Until I can figure out a way to change and improve this, I guess the best I can do is to live a life of value, respect, and integrity, and always give her a reason to be proud of what she created.

May my actions as a husband, a father, and a human being serve as a monument to her legacy as a mother.

From Grief to Grace

Today’s topic is supposed to be about something that was planned that did not turn out as expected. I don’t think I can do a better job than the one Lee did with her post tonight. Also, I’m not feeling that topic because I have something else weighing on my mind.

In the past year, I’ve had too many friends grieve the loss of a parent. I’ve also had another grieve the loss of a sibling. This sad and unfortunate trend continued this week as someone close to me lost his mother. It also pains me to say I have friends who are preparing for their loss as they have a parent who is ill or in hospice care.

In almost all of the instances mentioned above, cancer has been the common denominator in the passing of those individuals.

Every loss we experience is tragic. Infant or elder, expected or all of the sudden, death brands our soul with the lasting reminder of its eventuality. We mourn. We grieve. We try to make sense of it all. And in its own way, death unites us in the commonness of sorrow and pain.

There’s an extra layer added when the ones we love are lost due to that universal foe we call cancer. It’s hard enough to learn to accept death, but losing someone to cancer makes us feel cheated. We’re left feeling they were taken from us prematurely, and if not for cancer, they’d still be with us creating memories and sharing moments.

But as with all deaths, we, those who survive the ones who have passed, can carry their legacy and lives forward in how we choose to honor and remember them.

I never had the honor of meeting Jeffrey Block. He died at the age of 18 following a four year long battle with cancer. Still, he’s been the inspiration for a movement and a cause that has positively impacted the lives of thousands of people. His older brother chose to turn his grief and sorrow into a lasting tribute to his little brother, and formed a charity organization dedicated to the fight against pediatric cancer. The culmination of this tribute is found in the song Jeffrey’s brother wrote for him. To this day, I cannot listen to that song without my eyes welling with tears and my thoughts drifting to the memory of my father.

Grieving is a natural process. Feeling hurt, pain, and sometimes despair following the passing of a loved one is normal. Still, I like to think they’d want us to instead celebrate the life we shared with them and keep their memory alive by channeling that sense of loss into something positive.

You don’t have to go out and found a charity or write a beautiful song to honor a loved one. Instead, find solace in taking actions you know would make them proud. Find direction in the lessons you learned from them while they were still with us. Keep their spirit alive by enriching the spirit of others.

It’s when we turn grief into grace that we allow our loved ones to live forever.

“Running Through the Fields” by Ken Block

Well we shared a season
Running through the fields
We never had a reason
To be scared of things
That were so unreal
Making our own stories
Playing our own games
We never had no worries
Never thought things
Would ever change

But I’m missin’ you today -
Don’t know why you went away

Times I sat and wondered
Nights we sat and cried
I’m proud to be your brother
No one knows how hard we tried
To make it to tomorrow
For just another day
There’s never time to borrow
For things I’ll never get to say ...

So many days I’m searchin’
So many nights I’m left alone
Sometimes the song of the wind
Well it’s -- only the warning for the storm

Moments turn to hours
Months they turn to years
It’s different now without you
With your image crystal clear
The child was the teacher
A brother and a friend
A fragile little creature
Who’d do it all again and again

Well we shared a season
Running through the fields

You Wanna Do What?

Remember that song my Naughty by Nature called “You down with OCD”. Wait, what? That’s not what it’s called? That’s not what they were down with? Well, in my version it’s definitely OCD.

I don’t suffer from OCD, I relish in it. I embrace it. Being married to someone who lives - how shall I say this? - on the other end of the spectrum in terms of my comfort zone for order and tidiness can be a challenge. I guess that’s part of being in a relationship; being able to meet halfway.

But if it were strictly up to me, my house would probably look like a museum. I love perfectly arranged items. I love sorting and organizing. I get off on ninety degree angles. I like start-to-finish planning. If I could, I’d get a tattoo of a timeline on my arm. When it comes to law and order, the law is you must keep things in order.

Okay ….. I’m done with the euphemisms.

Now, imagine what my gut instinct was when Lee suggested, as we were planning a road trip to visit family in Miami, that we leave a day early and stop in Ft. Myers on the way. “It’ll give us the chance to do something different,” she said. “We’ve never really been, we can break up the drive down, and it’ll be fun.”

It was a really good idea and I agreed to it without much hesitation. I headed over to my laptop and pulled up a travel website. “What are you doing?” she asked me. I explained I was going to look up a hotel at which to stay in Ft. Myers and make a reservation. “We don’t need a reservation,” she quipped. “Let’s just get in the car and go. We’ll find a place to stay once we get there.”

I don’t know exactly how long it was, but I must have stared at her for about a minute and a half. It was just a blank stare, my brain unable to comprehend the words that came out of her mouth. I heard the faint voice of Gary Coleman in my head ask, “Whatchu talk’n ‘bout, Willis?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked. I explained to her that it sounded as if she said we didn’t need a reservation, and that we’d simply find a hotel when we got there. “That’s exactly what I said,” she retorted. It was then that the twitch that began in my eye escalated to full-on convulsions over my body.

How could this woman possibly suggest we just get in a car, drive to a different city, and stay the night without a reservation? Why would anyone do that? That’s the beauty of a reservation. You don’t have to worry about not having a place to stay. You don’t have to play out in your head the worst case scenario of sleeping in the car. What if there’s a convention and the only place available is $300 per night? My wife obviously hadn’t thought this through very well.

Stopping short of bitch slapping me back to her reality, Lee convinced me to “just have faith” and go with it. “You can’t plan everything,” she lectured me. I quietly disagreed.

We got in the car, drove off, and made it to Ft. Myers without incident. More importantly, we found a place to stay without incident. Well, there was that one little detail about our bathroom not being exactly clean which lead to the room being comp’d. That was cool.

In the end, we had a great time. Lee’s spontaneous idea and her coaxing me into giving randomness a try turned out to be quite the fun adventure. It also turned out to be a good learning experience for me as well. I learned to expand my comfort zone. I learned to place trust in the un-planned. I learned to let go of some of the obsessive and give into more of the compulsive in my life.

Life is rarely neat and tidy. Life almost never goes according to plan. I guess it is life’s tendency to exist in disorder that I need to embrace.

Forgive + Forget = No Regrets

In the wake of posting some pretty deep and dark entries about specific events in my life, it’s with open arms that I embrace tonight’s writing topic.

The subject of tonight’s entry is a truly spiritual moment in my life. I thought long and hard about this. I tried to recall a ‘eureka’ moment with God, one that set me on a new path of growth and spiritual happiness. However, the more I searched for that moment, the more I realized there wasn’t one. Well, not just one.

Instead, what I found was a series of moments in my life, specifically in the last several years, that have brought me closer to God and have allowed me to look at life with a completely different perspective. It’s very much a domino effect, where the first moment leads the way to the second, and so on. The following is a very brief recap of my journey with Christ that helped get me to where I am today.

It was an ordinary weekend in 2005 and I just happened to be awake early on a Sunday morning. Usually I would sleep in late following some drunken stupor the night before. 2005 was my ‘being single’ year, and I tried to cram my twenties, as well as everything I felt I had missed by being in a relationship at such a young age, into that year. That particular Sunday, however, I was up at around 7:00 AM.

As I lay in bed, I had a feeling in my chest. It was a calling from Him telling me I needed to get up and go to Mass. I was raised Catholic, but I had not been to Mass in a long time. I tried to ignore it. I tried to shake off the feeling inside me. But the more I did, the louder the voice was and the deeper the feeling that I needed to get up and just go.

As it turns out, that particular Sunday was the ministry fair at my church. At the end of Mass, the newly hired director of Youth Ministry made an appeal to all in the audience to donate their time and help out the fledgling program. I looked up towards God and told him, “Okay. I get the message,” and I registered to volunteer. It was that experience as a volunteer youth minister that allowed me to participate in a leadership retreat the following year. It was at that retreat where I had a second spiritual moment with God.

I had been struggling mightily with forgiveness. I was still bitter about what had happened to me in my pursuit of ‘true love’, and I was also very much still mad and ashamed at myself for what I did to my family and ex-wife. It was there, following a discussion about reconciliation with God, where I felt the strength to let it all go and release that burden I’d been carrying. Not only was I able to extend forgiveness to the person I felt had wronged me, I also learned at that moment, through God’s amazing grace and kindness, how to forgive myself.

This experience has come around full circle for me as I sat in the audience at Relevant Church in Tampa this morning. Our pastor, Paul Wirth, was talking about the snapshots in life that lead to regret. It was then that I realized exactly how powerful that moment at the retreat really was. You see, although there are many actions in my life which I regret having done, I don’t at all feel the heavy burden of regret. I know the reason for this is because God showed me how to forgive and, more importantly, how to accept His divine forgiveness.

To me, forgiveness is like a bolt cutter. This specific bolt cutter, however, requires two cuts in order to work properly. We use this tool to release ourselves from our sins, which are attached to us at the ankle like a dead weight. We use it again to let go of the times we’ve been wronged, which are shackled to us at the other ankle. This weight pulls us under and drowns us. We can’t cut just one and be released from what is weighing us down. Instead, Jesus makes the first cut to forgive us of our sins. He teaches us through example, and we must then take the bolt cutters and forgive those who have hurt us. Only then can we rise to the surface and truly take in God’s love like a deep breath of fresh air.

I like to think I have spontaneous moments of spirituality every day. Some are subtle and may take some time to reveal themselves to me. Others, however, hit my like a ton of bricks. Either way, I feel I am so lucky and so blessed to have the relationship I do with God.

He truly does work in mysterious ways. All we have to do is be willing to listen ….. and learn.

Out of the Darkness Feet First

I guess one of the problems with undertaking a writing challenge like ours is the inadvertent covering of future topics. Tonight’s subject is “A dark or turbulent moment in your life.” Well, it goes without saying I’ve already written about that. So instead, I am going to write about a dark moment in someone else’s life.

Actually, I jest. This is more like an enlightening moment in someone else’s life.

My friend Matt has lived most of his adult life in fear. He was afraid of the unknown. He was terrified to take on this undertaking, even at the suggestion of his wife. We, his male peers, offered up words of encouragement and support, but still he stood frozen in place, his fear and dislike not allowing him to take that step forward. You see, my friend Matt had never had a pedicure.

All that changed on Friday afternoon. Truth be told, we did not have to kidnap him and take him by force to the spa. There were no tranquilizers, duct tape, and rope involved, although it would have been cool if we had to throw a sack over his head and dump him in the trunk to do so. THAT would have made for a much better story.

Nevertheless, there we were Friday afternoon, Jeff in one seat, Matt in the other, both of them with their feet in bubbling water, all the while enjoying the tranquility of the view and ambient music playing in the day spa. I was there to provide moral support and to equally mock Matt’s virgin pedi experience. “Can I get you some water with a slice of cucumber?” I’d ask him. I grabbed a book from the waiting area for him to pass the time as his wax covered feet ‘baked’. It was called ‘Girl Talk’. He was not amused. And, of course, there were also the prerequisite photos of him to be posted on Twitter and Facebook.

Yet, through it all, Matt took it, well, like a man. He enjoyed the experience, made polite conversation with the lovely ladies tending to his and Jeff’s feet, and I think he walked away with a greater sense of enlightenment. Not to mention silky smooth feet.

From a guy’s perspective, it was fun. From a grander perspective, it was cool to remove from Matt’s mind the negative stereotype of pedicures for men. It was a learning experience and it was, I think, a growing experience. And in its own weird way, it brought the three of us guys a little bit closer.

For the record, my one and only pedi experience was with my wife while we were on vacation in Mexico in 2008. We had a spa day for two, and it was fantastic. Still, I am the first to admit that calling up the fellas and saying, “Hey, how about we get together at 1:00 and all go get our feet done?” is never going to happen. I appreciate the pampering and comfort a pedicure provides, but my first experience was special because I shared it with Lee, and I want to keep it as something she and I can do together.

So back to the moral of the story. Guys, don't knock it ‘till you try it. You never know just how bright a perceived dark moment can be. Matt, kudos to you for swallowing some of that male pride and, quite literally, dipping your feet in the water. Jeff, you continue to display just how cool you are for making this whole thing happen. And, Michelle, on behalf of Jeff, myself, and your husband …. you're welcome.

All About My BFF

Sometimes things in life can be both easy and hard. There are challenges we face, people we know, or situations to resolve that have aspects that are both worrisome and trouble free. This entry is an example of that.

As part of my wife and I’s 30 Day Blog Challenge, the blog assignment for this evening is to write about your best friend (that is not a spouse or significant other). This is where the easy and hard part comes in.

As I’ve said before, I’ve been blessed to have an incredible circle of friends that have supported me and guided me through the years. They’ve been with me through thick and thin, and it’s a wonderful feeling knowing I am surrounded by such wonderful and amazing people. The hardest part of this entry, however, is selecting one individual to highlight as my ‘best friend’. The idea harkens thoughts of third grade and of raising one individual person over all others, but that’s not what I want to do at all. Every one of my friends possesses unique characteristics and traits without which I feel I would be lost. I honestly feel all my friends - my true friends, those that make up my inner circle of support and those I consider family - are great.

So as my way of dealing with this dilemma, I am going to fall back on my marketing background.

In marketing and advertising, there is a concept of top of mind awareness (TOMA). TOMA, simply put, is the brand you think of first regarding a particular type of product or service. For example, someone asks you what soda you like, the list of brands you rattle through are those that have top of mind awareness for you.

In trying to determine the subject of this post, I did something similar. I asked myself, “If I were impacted by a sudden tragedy in my life, who would be the first of my friends I would call?” Dark, I know. But this question serves as a good litmus test to help determine who in your life you consider a friend and who gets relegated to the category of casual acquaintance.

The first person that came to my mind is my friend Jeff Wilson. I don’t know where to begin with Jeff except to say I’m the little brother he never had. As far as guy stuff goes, he and I are cut from the same cloth. We’re both sports geeks. We’re both music geeks. We’re both big kids raising kids of our own. And since he and I have both travelled down the road of divorce with young children, we share a bond that allows us to get each other that much more.

Jeff is one of the most fun guys I know. He can be the life of the party when he wants to be. He also knows, however, when it’s time to be cool and casual. He seems to know just about everybody, too. If you need help with finding tickets to a show, he has a guy he can call. Going to that new restaurant that’s opening? Chances are he knows the owner. He’s well connected and influential, but in the most unassuming and non-egotistical way. He’s just all around cool.

But what makes me look at Jeff with eyes of admiration is his sense of selflessness and generosity. Jeff has been a role model to me, leading by example when it comes to giving of oneself for other people. In 2005, before I had the opportunity of meeting him, he organized in Tampa the first of what would become an annual event for Lyrics for Life, a charity organization founded by Sister Hazel that is dedicated to supporting research and programs for pediatric cancer. He did this out of pure inspiration for the cause. He was driven by his desire to make a difference and help out in any way he could. I attended that event and it was spectacular.

The following year, his son was diagnosed with a Wilms tumor, a type of kidney cancer that occurs in children. I can’t begin to imagine what it must be like for a parent to hear the prognosis of their child being diagnosed with cancer, but I can tell you Jeff handled the situation with grace and determined resolve. He rallied around the love of his family and friends to provide both the best treatment and support environment for his son Tanner. He shaved his head in solidarity as Tanner began to lose his hair because of the chemo. He never laid blame on anyone or anything. He took his son by the hand, and they faced the adversity together.

Tanner is doing well and is symptom free. He is a healthy and active middle-schooler and the apple of his father’s eye.

Jeff’s been my drinking buddy, my road trip companion, my sounding board, my confidant, and everything in between. Most importantly, he’s been my inspiration in terms of charitable work and selfless giving. He’s the type of friend everyone wants to have and very few people can be. It’s so easy to be around him and hard not to like him. I am thankful to have him, as I am all my friends, in my life, and I know my life would be a lot less interesting without him.

To The Core

I am a huge sports fan. Even more so, I am a huge Miami Dolphins fan. I grew up on the Dolphins. The golden era of Shula, Griese, and the Orange Bowl. The arrival of Dan Marino and the Marks Brothers. The heartbreaking losses in Super Bowls XVII and XIX. Those are all part of my childhood and the bedrock that makes me the fan I am today.

Alas to say dealing with heartbreak is part of being a Dolphins fan. Their last Super Bowl victory came a month before my first birthday. They haven’t been to the big game since the 1984 season. Their last trip to the AFC Championship? 1993. Along the way there have been memorable games, breathtaking wins, and, of course, heartbreaking losses. Coincidentally, the two that stand out in my mind both came in the playoffs and both were against the San Diego Chargers.

The first game was the classic Epic in Miami. It was January of 1982 and both teams played a slugfest that went into overtime. You remember that game: the sloppy field, the hook and lateral play, Kellen Winslow being carried off the field by his teammates. I was nine years old. I remember clutching my fists as I knelt in front of the TV. Following a legendary Miami comeback, I was absolutely sure they were going to win. They didn’t, losing in overtime. I was a wreck.

The second playoff game against the Bolts was in 1995. Miami lead San Diego 21-6 at the half. The Chargers roared back to take the lead. The game came down to a 48-yard field goal attempt by Pete Stoyanovich. I remember watching the game at a bar on Bourbon Street. I was so confident. Pete never misses from inside 50 yards. “We got this!” I said rather confidently to a patron standing next to me. I was 100% certain the Dolphins were going to win the game. When Stoyo’s kick sailed wide right - and it wasn’t even close - my heart sank in complete disbelief.

It’s rare to hear me say, “I’m absolutely positive” about anything in life. I’ve learned to withhold the final 1% of certainty and allow room, no matter how miniscule, for the improbable. Still, there I was in 2005 telling everyone I knew about how certain I was things were going to work out in the end. I was in a relationship I shouldn’t have been in. I was married. She was married. We were in love. And through it all, I was 1000% certain it was meant to be. We were perfect together. We were made for each other. We were soul mates.

Then the improbable - or from my perspective at the time, impossible - happened.

Long story short; after years of promising to choose me for our happily ever after, I was instead cast aside for the safety of the status quo. It was one of those, “The devil that you know is better than the devil that you don’t know” situations. To say I was devastated would be an understatement. That moment was for me the event that shook me to my core.

*takes a deep breath*

I didn’t know where I was going to go with this entry when I started writing. I didn’t know what the ‘moral of the story’ would be. But, as I look at those events, now five years removed from my emotional ground zero, there is one thing that stands out. Time truly does heal all wounds and life does actually go on.

It just so happens I was sharing some parenting advice with a friend this evening. Her kid is having a tough time with peers at school, and I reminded her that getting through the tough times is what needs to happen in order to arrive at the great times. It’s just that all too often we can’t see the destination from where we stand today, especially when all we believed to be true is proven to be wrong. Still, as with those Dolphins teams in which I so passionately believed, there was always a next season. The promise of a brighter and better tomorrow is not a theory, it’s an eventuality. The trick is having the faith, patience, and courage to see it come to fruition.

It's Not At All Random

I don’t believe in random. I mean I do, but I don’t.

Lotto balls are random. The way a snowflake falls from the sky is random. The things that come out of my nine year-old’s mouth are random. But life and our interactions with others are never random. That being said, I met Cate Colgan through the most random of circumstances.

At the time, I had no idea what a Tweetup was. Nevertheless, Lee and I trekked down to the Performing Arts Center in downtown Tampa for a Tampa Bloggers Tweetup. I blogged and I lived in Tampa, but I hardly considered myself a ‘Tampa Blogger’. Lee and I were both still relative novices in the whole arena of social media, but it was something to do so off we went.

Near the end of the event, we met Cate. We chatted with her a bit and exchanged information. I didn’t think much of it at the time. It was just another business card to add to the pile I had collected that evening. We had met a good amount of people at the event and I spent the better part of the drive home trying to mentally sort all the names and faces to which we’d been introduced.

Some time passed and Lee forwarded me information about a Social Media class. Again, given we were both eager to learn more, we registered for the class. It turned out Cate Calgon was part of the group that put together and organized the class. In fact, Lee came across the information for the class as a result of following Cate on Twitter and keeping tabs on her information.

This second meeting with Cate led to her inviting Lee, and by extension me, to join the Epic Thanks Tampa Bay planning organization. I was at first reluctant to commit to the planning and execution of such an event, but I am really glad I got involved, and it turned out to be quite a successful project. In addition to the networking opportunities that were created as a result of being a part of that organization, Epic Thanks also introduced me to a world of new people that are still a part of my daily life. I’ve made new and dear friends, and I would not have met all these people if not for Cate.

Cate has also been a role model for me in that she leads through example, is incredibly giving and selfless, and carries no ego with her. Given all she’s done and all she’s donated, both in time and money, Cate makes it all seem like it’s no big deal. She doesn’t walk around with a sense of superiority. Quite the contrary. Cate is always looking to deflect attention away from her and provide praise and cheer to someone else.

No, there was nothing random about what brought Cate Calgon into my life. I truly believe God allowed our paths to cross so I could:

• Be an active part of a wonderful, non-profit organization and event
• Be introduced to breathtakingly inspiring people who make giving of themselves their life’s work
• Expand my knowledge, understanding and skill sets regarding social media, event planning, and event marketing
• Create new opportunities, both personally and professionally, through the many people with whom Cate has connected me
  

I could easily add twenty more bullet points, but I am sure you get the idea.

To say Cate Calgon has made an impact on my life is an understatement. I’ve written before how thankful I am to her and for having her come into my life the way she did. I will say it again, however, because there are not enough words for me to properly describe how much of a ray of sunshine Cate has been.

Thanks again, Cate, for turning on the ‘giving’ switch inside of me, and for showing me how rewarding life can be when you make it about others.

The Chasm of Friendship Drift

This blog post is a day late. The Day 17 topic of our 30 Day Writing Challenge is ‘Someone with whom you shared a friendship/relationship that simply drifted out of your life.’ As you’ll soon see, there is a reason I was not able to get this posted on Monday night.

The person that fits the subject of this post, let’s call her Mirabelle, is someone I met back in 2004. She was one of the first new people I met after my first marriage ended, and we quickly hit it off. I maintained a relationship with her through about the end of 2005 until, as the subject of this post suggests, we both just drifted away in separate directions. No rhyme or reason, just the final extinguishing of an ember that was once a flame.

It’s funny how that happens. Relationships that were once rock solid reduced, over time, to afterthoughts. It’s understandable when there’s an evident reason. I’ve been a part of a bromance that ended up in a dudevorce resulting from a misunderstanding and the subsequent battle of stubborn wills. I’ve dumped women and have also been dumped by them. With those, there was always a tangible cause and effect that makes clear why the relationship is no more. With Mirabelle, however, our friendship just faded.

It’s quite sad, too, when you think about it. We had the type of friendship where we’d call each other daily. She’d tell me about her issues at work and guys she was seeing. She’d lend me her ear as I continuously harped about my situation and the problems I was facing. We’d go out to dinner, sometimes with my kids, sometimes just the two of us. She once let me use her car to drive my kids down to Miami as it was much safer than taking them down in the little, one bench-seat Ford Ranger I had at the time. I introduced her to Sister Hazel. She introduced me to the TV show Firefly. We were, one might say, a good fit for each other.

When Mirabelle was faced with a big decision that impacted her career, I was the person she called to talk about it. We weighed the pros and cons of the decision, and with that she made her choice. She chose option A which meant leaving her current employer but staying in the Tampa area. Option B would have meant staying with her employer but moving back to the Midwest.

I like to think my life intersected Mirabelle’s for a reason, and vice versa. Last I heard from Mirabelle, she had met someone new and was about to get married. Perhaps it was my role in her life to advise her in her career choice, the one that kept her in the area and subsequently allowed her to meet her husband. Perhaps it was something else; a purpose I’ll never realize but one I believe was served.

I also like to think, mostly based on past experiences, not all new friendships are meant to last a lifetime. We meet, we interact, we impact (or get impacted upon), and we move on. It’s like the lyric from the Billy Joel song ‘Say Goodbye to Hollywood’: “So many faces in and out of my life, some will last, some will just be now and then. Life is a series of hello’s and goodbye’s, I’m afraid it’s time for goodbye again.”

This gets me to why I was not able to post this entry Monday night.

On Monday night, I was out meeting with a good friend of mine I hadn’t seen in quite some time. We don’t really live all that far from each other, but as with all things, she’s got her life and things going on and I have mine. We keep in touch via Facebook and the occasional text message, but for the most part it’s been a series of “we’ve got to get together” conversations. Well, Monday night we did just that. We set aside some time and made the effort to see each other. I am really glad we did because it was really wonderful seeing her. And if there was one thing my get-together with my friend provided, it was the opportunity to close the gap of ‘friendship drift’ between us.

There are some people in our lives that are just too special to allow them to aimlessly drift away, and sometimes all it takes is a tiny bit of resolve to say, “Let’s get together on this date at this time, period!” It’s funny how a little bit of forethought can help keep a relationship from becoming an afterthought.

Finding Peace in the Pages

On September 3, 2004, following a two-year battle, my father, John Robert Gonzalez, succumbed to cancer.

The man that lay in that hospice bed those final days was, physically, just a shell of the man I grew up admiring. He would drift in and out of consciousness, unable to speak, until he finally laid his head back and took his last breath. With that he was gone.

With that, I was devastated.

I’d been to funerals before. I’d had close friends lose their parents. I’d lost very close friends myself at such an early age. Still, there is something surreal about having a parent pass away. It was a ton of bricks falling on me. It was having to face the reality this man, a man who was a constant in my life, would never again be there for me. Whenever I couldn’t figure out how to do something around the house, I’d give him a call. Whenever there was a big play in the Dolphins’ game, I’d give him a call. Every Sunday afternoon, I’d give him a call. Now there was no one for me to call ever again. Sad and surreal and so hard for me to come to terms with.

There was one aspect of my father’s passing, however, that did bring me peace.

In the final weeks of August 2004, I read Mitch Albom’s book “The Five People You Meet in Heaven.” It changed my life. I say that because it changed my ideas and perceptions about the afterlife and what happens in heaven. The book allowed me to think of a place we visit once we die, a place that summarizes and makes complete the life we lived on earth. It opened my eyes to the idea that dying is something we can look forward to because of the wonderful experience that follows our passing.

The story, and the manner in which it is so beautifully told, allowed me to more quickly find acceptance of the fact my father was dead. Rather than consume my thoughts with things I’d never be able to do with him again, I thought instead of who his five people are and what interactions he was having with them in the great beyond. It was almost a joyous feeling to think he was reunited with his mother, a spectacular woman whom he loved so very much, and the conversations they would share. It was fascinating in a sad but beautiful way. It was, for me, a source of strength at a time of loss.

Writing is a powerful medium, and the art of storytelling can be a very influential vehicle. It’s still amazing to me, as well as inspiring, that someone can put words to paper and, as a result, positively impact the lives of millions of strangers. That is what Mitch Albom has done with his books. He is a role model for me as an author, as a sports writer, and as a person; and I aspire so much to model my craft after his.

I hope and pray that I will one day write something that will be a positive influence on someone else’s life. I do this not for any sense of fame, gratitude, or acknowledgement, but rather because of my belief that doing so would make my father proud. After all, it will give us something to talk about when it’s our time to reunite in heaven.

To read the eulogy I wrote for my father, please click here.

Impacted by the Power of Music

If ever there was such a thing as an obvious choice, the subject of this entry is it. The writer in me so desperately wanted to go with a twist or misdirection, but anyone who knows me would easily guess or tell you the band or musical artist that has impacted my life is Sister Hazel. I mean, it’s not even close.

This entry actually serves as a good follow-up to my post from yesterday. I went through some tough and dark times at the end of 2004, and it was the music of Sister Hazel that played a part in getting me through it. There were days when I felt like my life had come to a screeching halt while everyone else’s was going by me at 100 miles per hour. It was my ability to relate to the lyrics; to read, study, and understand those words set to music that helped get me through those dark days.

Diggin' in for another day
Carrying on in my own way
But you know me
I live and die nearly every day
Insanity, it's havin' its way with me

In 2005 I was able to introduce Lee to the music of Sister Hazel, and it became something we were able to share together. It allowed her to understand and get me a little bit better. It became for her, albeit after some initial reluctance, a place for her to find strength and comfort as well.

And when you're weak of holding on
Release your wayward soul
And spend your days not falling down
Before your empty idols

In 2006, Lee and I chased daylight on the way to the first annual Hazelnut Hang in South Carolina. We watched the sun set on the west coast of Florida, jumped in my truck, drove all night, and watched the sun rise over the beach on Sullivan’s Island in South Carolina. It was the first of what would become many Sister Hazel related adventures and experiences Lee and I would share together.

Sky fell down and pulled us in
Stole away my oxygen
And left me standin' breathless there with you
The ocean wrapped around the sun
The smell of June - the taste of your tongue
Was all I'd ever need

The music of Sister Hazel has not only been an inspirational vehicle for the two of us, it’s also introduced us to a circle of friends that cannot be adequately described with words. When I think about the people with whom Lee and I interact on a regular basis, for the vast majority of them, the common link is Sister Hazel. We either met them through or because of events that in some shape, way, or form tie back to that band that hales from Gainesville, Florida.

I’ve jumped out of a plane because of Sister Hazel. I’ve helped friends load a moving truck because of Sister Hazel. I’ve helped friends unload a moving truck because of Sister Hazel. I’ve seen friends meet, fall in love, and get married because of Sister Hazel. I’ve attended weddings of friends because of Sister Hazel. I’ve seen friends bring babies into this world because of Sister Hazel. I’ve shared tears at the passing of friends I’ve met because of Sister Hazel. I know it may sound weird from the outside looking in, but I can tell you it’s quite a spectacular feeling knowing I have this large, extended family on which I can rely and in which I can trust, all because of this one band that continues to put out great music and bring people together.

I honestly don’t know where I’d be without my Hazel family. I honestly cannot imagine my life without the myriad of people who fill my life and make it so wonderful and blessed. I think about how different my life would be if not for the music of Ken Block, Drew Copeland, Ryan Newell, Mark Trojanowski, and Jett Beres. When you stop and think about it, it really is a beautiful thing.

Worth Living For

I remember how I felt that night back in late 2004. It was sheer and utter despair. Actually, it was several exits past despair. I felt depleted. I felt alone. I felt beyond lost. In my eyes, there was nothing left except the final bit of tequila that sat at the bottom of the bottle I held in my hand. I couldn’t cry anymore. All of my tears had already been shed. I couldn’t feel anymore, both physically and emotionally. It was my rock bottom and I had emptied out.

I remember picking up the phone, my hand trembling, not knowing what the right thing to do was. I didn’t care to know either. I dialed and left the following message. “Hey. In the event I don’t wake up tomorrow, please tell the kids I am really, really sorry.” With that, I plopped a handful of sleeping pills in my mouth and finished off what was left of the tequila.

I am embarrassed and ashamed of that moment in my life. It’s the one moment in my life I gave up complete hope in anything, and it’s the furthest away from God I’d ever been.

I look back at that night and thank God He spared me during my moment of insanity. I believe He did so as a reminder that life is a struggle, and that when it appears everyone else has abandoned you, He is always there.

I look back at that night with disgust for myself because I was blind to the one gift He gave me that serves as a reminder of His love for me; my kids. How could I have possibly thought it was okay to check out on them, the only two human beings in the world that have ever displayed true, unconditional love to me? It’s shameful that I even considered it.

I have a great job, a beautiful house, good health, a nice truck and so much more. I have a circle of friends that makes my life so amazingly awesome and helps me create wonderful memories. And I have a wife that is my best friend, my biggest fan, and my north, always helping me find my way when I think I can’t. Still, given all that, the one thing I truly live for is my kids.

I’d trade it all in for them. No hesitation, no questions asked. I’d be fine living as a homeless person if it meant my kids had food and shelter for themselves. I’d lie in a hospital bed the rest of my days if that were the only way to ensure my kids were healthy. I’d live alone and broken-hearted if it meant that was the only way my kids would find someone to love for the rest of their lives.

Now, before you go freaking out on me, please know I’ve had this conversation before with my wife and she knows how I feel. She supports how I feel. And I am pretty sure she loves me more because of the father I strive to be to my children.

My children have made my life worth living for. I am reminded of that every time I look in their eyes, and I am so thankful God allowed me the chance to remember that.

Thanks for the Compliment

Thank you.

It’s a hard phrase to utter at times. Whenever given a compliment, I used to blush and deflect the gesture by saying something derogatory about myself. Rather than make the other person feel comfortable and at ease, I would find some way to make the whole exchange clumsy and awkward.

It wasn’t until later that I just happened to listen in on a conversation about that very topic. From it, I learned the simplest and kindest thing to do when receiving a compliment is to simply say, “Thank You.” There’s no need to downplay it. It’s definitely not proper to up-play it, either. Simply thank the person and move on in the conversation.

It would be the equivalent of giving a gift to someone and having them go on about how you shouldn’t have or they’re not deserving or they don’t know what to say. It takes away from the magical feeling you have inside when you’re in a position to present someone with a gift. You want them to simply enjoy it. Instead, they make an issue of it and the value of the moment is diminished.

I am blessed to be able to say I’ve had countless of opportunities in the last several years to say “Thank You” to people. It really should be something we keep track of over the year. Instead of receiving a W2 in January that details how much money you earned, it would be cool to receive some sort of statement that outlines the number of times in the previous year you were able to say “Thank You” to someone else. That would be a true measure of wealth.

As luck would have it, I’d say the majority of my thanks results from my writing efforts. Be it blog posts, the short novels I’ve written, or the occasional poetry, I am frequently complimented about my writing. It’s nice and it’s humbling. I know I’ve learned from my past, and whenever someone pays me a compliment, I quickly and succinctly tell them “Thank You.”

On occasion, the kind words are followed up with inquisitive ones or comments of self-doubt. I often hear from others how it is they love to read but are horrible writers. They go on and on about how they could never do what I do and just write. What’s really interesting is how they are willing to invest their kindness in me but not in themselves.

My wife used to be like that. She was handcuffed with imaginary shackles. She felt her writing was horrible. She said she didn’t possess the talent to write online. Yet here we are, ten days into this writing challenge and with her typing away every night. She is still developing her voice and style, but I think her work is amazing. She was able to tear down her self-imposed restrictions and just write, and this is what leads to greater success down the road.

If you’ve ever thought about writing, be it just for yourself or for the world to see, simply sit down and do it. Don’t worry about it being bad. Trust me when I tell you there are a million other writers that are worse than you. Writing begets more writing. It’s a process you’ll learn to love over time once you sit down and start writing.

The positive feedback you’ll receive will also inspire you to write more. It will motivate you to keep coming back, and the more you do so, the more your writing will expand and flourish.

Just remember, when someone says something complimentary about your writing, be sure you just say “Thank You”.

Change of Plans

As part of our 30 day blog challenge, tonight’s topic was supposed to be about being a champion. I thought it would be a good fit given the BCS National Championship game is being played tonight. Truth be told, however, the topic is actually quite lame.

I was going to write about the experiences I remember as a child of winning league championships in football. I played four years for the Boys Club in Miami, and we won our league championship three years in a row. I was then going to transition to the blog I wrote about my son’s recreation league basketball team winning the championship a couple of years ago, and how watching him win felt better and was so much more rewarding than when I was his age and playing ball.

Still, as I sat down to write, I just didn’t “feel it”. I just didn’t find that groove I thought would come so naturally for me and this subject. That’s probably because my mind is still lost at sea. Lee and I just returned from our annual voyage on The Rock Boat, and it was such an excellent vacation that’s left me on such an amazing high. It’s not something I come off easily - nor would I want to - and I am still feeling blissful about the stellar memories I’ve just recently etch into my brain.

So I am going to completely ignore today’s topic and instead just rattle off some things I learned aboard this year’s cruise. At first, I was going to compile a numbered list. The more I thought about it, however, the more I figured I would just list thought after thought and see where we end up.

With that being said, I present to you my thoughts, observations, and random mind-clutter from The Rock Boat XI. (Warning: These memories are all over the place - happy, sad, funny, and weird - and go way past eleven)

• A drunken person will tend to do stupid things. A collection of drunken people will tend to do really, really stupid things.
• It’s okay to be late to the party. For years now, I’ve felt like I was missing out on something with regards to what my friends were saying. Finally, I had my breakthrough moment: Will Hoge is *bleeping* amazing.
• If I had to do it all again (career-wise), I’d make sure I ended up working for Sixthman.
• Smuggling booze on board DRAMATICALLY reduces the final total on your sail and sign card account (just say’n).
• There are guys on The Rock Boat that CAN walk around with no shirts on and then there are guys who can’t. I fall into the latter.
• Being able to just hang out, have a conversation, and share a drink with a musical artist is, value-wise, worth every last penny of whatever it costs to book a cabin. It’s all about the experience, people.
• Hearing two performers sing in perfect harmony must be what angels sound like.
• Live music can unite strangers, heal old wounds, give hope to the saddened, and reduce a grown man to tears. If you don’t believe in magic, it’s probably because you’re not listening.
• The phrase, “You don’t want to grab a guy’s junk via proxy” is one of the funniest things I’ve ever heard uttered in a bathroom. (Don’t ask …. you had to be there).
• Cap guns can be quite the attention getter.
• It’s possible to get goose-bumps on top of your goose-bumps.
• The age of digital photography is equally convenient as it is dangerous.
• Do not drink tequila that comes from a plastic bottle.
• Social media continues to make the world a smaller and smaller place. I was asked three times in line if I was @danaCreative. This was both kinda’ cool and kinda’ creepy, but mostly cool.
• Not sitting in the front row as Toby Lightman sings her song ‘Front Row’ is akin to watching the girl you’ve been crushing on kiss another guy.
• The idea of relaxing in a hot tub is great until you think about everyone else who’s been in the hot tub. Two words: Petri dish.
• Watching Aslyn sing ‘Wally’ on the Serenity Deck as the sun was setting and the waves were her back drop was literally breath taking. I think time stood still for a moment.
• It’s humbling to be able to ‘be there’ for friends. The beauty about the music community in which Lee and I partake is we get to interact with so many wonderful people, and every now and then we get to experience something deep and real.
• God doesn’t send memos. He simply presents you with a situation and challenges you to take action.
• There are few things in life that are better than Rock Boat pizza at 3:00 AM
• Inspiration is all around us at all time. Sometimes it’s simply a matter of just stopping and taking notes of what it is you’re seeing, feeling and experiencing.
• Sister Hazel still is, and forever will be, simply amazing.
• It is possible to meet someone in person for the first time after having known them for over four years but having it feel as if you’ve known them your whole life. I can’t put into words how amazing that feeling is.
• God works in mysterious ways, specifically in lyrics.
• God is a music fan.

I am sure there will be many, many more I’ll remember in the coming days, but this will have to do for now. Given this was supposed to be an entry about being a champion or being the best, I hope I didn’t fail with my ‘from the hip’ approach.

As for being the best, I can say without equivocation the team at Sixthman is the absolute best at creating experiences that will last a lifetime. They are the best at what they do, and they make it all seem so effortless. There’s no putting into words the positive impact this fun group of people have on the lives of others, and when it comes to creating something uniquely special, Sixthman definitely comes in first place.

Are We There Yet?

I’m not living if I’m not looking ahead to some thing or to some event. That’s just me. I know I need to stop and smell the roses more often, and I need to appreciate the here and now; but I totally get off on that giddy feeling of planning something exciting and the days leading up to it.

Holidays are great. Musical acts coming into town are awesome. Kids’ sporting events are a lot of fun. I get to add those to my calendar and be reminded the purpose of getting through the work week is so that I can enjoy those moments of celebration, exaltation, and, as was the case last night, inebriation.

Still nothing quite compares to the trip on which Lee and I embark this afternoon. It’s an annual get-together with hundreds of our closest friends - which really are like family now - and we all pile aboard this ship and listen to music and drink and celebrate life and drink and share in the power of the musical spirit …. and drink. This get-together is a little thing we like to call The Rock Boat, and this annual floating music festival gets me amped up like nothing else.

Speaking of amped, this is the eleventh year of the cruise and the theme for the event is ‘Going to 11’. Like the rockers from ‘This is Spinal Tap’, this cruise goes that extra push over the cliff and all the way to eleven! As far as the cruising is concerned, the folks at Sixthman, the affinity travel company that puts on the event, have added a wrinkle to the party and have not yet announced to where we’ll be sailing. It really doesn’t matter. The ship could stay in the Port of Tampa all four days and it will still be the best vacation ever.

There’s something absolutely exhilarating about allowing yourself to be consumed by live music and sharing that experience with the people you love. In a nutshell, that is why I get so excited with anticipation for the Boat. In fact, I am telling myself to type faster so I can wrap up this posting and get going to the port.

Excitement is a good thing. I do concede it needs to be balanced (didn’t we just talk about that?) with allowing yourself to absorb the experience you’ve been looking forward to. It’s not like I am going to spend four days on the ship thinking about the next event I’ll be attending. Still, the rush of ‘are we there yet?’ makes it that much better.

As we’re still in the season of the New Year, I hope that you have a wonderful and exciting 2011 planned for yourself. Part of what makes us feel alive is wondering what life has in store for us next.

Somewhere in Between Left and Right

Discretionary warning. The author of tonight’s blog is under the influence of several ounces of beer (he lost count) and several slices of pizza (Otis was buying). He’d like to apologize in advance for any excessive drivel that may be posted. Viewer discretion is advised.

****************

So. Tonight’s topic is balance. I was fretting because I realized I couldn’t possible write anything interesting (let alone funny and witty) about the inner ear. Then I remembered there are two parts of the ear that support the function of balance: the semicircular canals and the vestibule. What’s really funny - well, funny for someone who’s a twelve year-old boy like me - is that when you say vestibule, you can be referring to one of three things. There’s the vestibule of the ear, which refers to the central part of the labyrinth, as used in the vestibular system. There’s the nasal vestibule, which is the anatomical name for the nostrils. And then there’s the vulval vestibule, which is the anatomical name for the posterior of the labia manora. In summary, when you say vestibule, you’ve got an ear, nose and hooch situation going.

(I told you I was drunk when I wrote this).

Anyways, that’s not at all the type of balance I’m talking about. The question for today is what brings balance into your life? What keeps you sane? What keep you grounded? What keeps you from going off the deep end when things get crazy?

My answer can be described by two simple words: Laundry.

Yep. Laudry. Not so much the cleaning of clothes, but rather the folding of them. I love, love, love folding laundry. Yes, I know, I’m weird (and drunk, might I add). But seriously, there is something Zen-like about taking a basket full of warm, Lavender Serenity scented clothes (even the name is relaxing), and compiling little piles of folded freshness on my bed. It’s an exercise that serves a functional purpose AND clears my mind all at once.

Hey, laugh all you want at my OCD quirk, but I’m telling you, nothing sooths the soul quite like the folding of clothes. It’s one of the rare times I allow myself to be meticulous about being meticulous. I have piles for my white under shirts. I have piles for my regular t-shirts. I have piles for my t-shirts that used to be regular t-shirts but have now been down-graded to the pile in my closet that I use for household chores like mowing the lawn and washing the car. Still, they’re in a pile on their own …. right next to my polo shirts and my wife’s unmentionables.

But in all seriousness, I’d probably lose my mind without my laundry activities. With work pressures, social pressures, commitments to charities and volunteerism, parenting requirements, etc., the one true thing in my life that allows me to absolve my brain of the sensory overload is laundry. It’s my personal sanctuary. It’s my escape from everything else in my life.

So, as I sit here in a feeble attempt to sober up and with an ever so minute sense of sobriety overcoming my buzz (I still can’t feel my toes), I would like for you to consider what it is in your life that offers you balance and serenity, and what can you do to make it a more frequent part of your every day?

And if you ever have mounds of laundry you need folded, just give me a call. You can repay me in beer.

A Love for the Routine

I approach this blog with trepidation. Following yesterday’s entry, it is obvious there is very little about my life and my day-to-day that is routine.

Perhaps that’s a good thing? Perhaps that is a blessing in disguise? Not having the same thing to do every day. Not having the same actions to perform like some robot on automatic pilot. Isn’t variety supposed to be the spice of life?

I guess there is some truth to that philosophy, but as I wrote yesterday, lack of discipline begets lack of routine which, in the long run, begets lack of accomplishment.

Still, there really is not one thing I can think of that is routine in my every day. I guess you can say pulling the covers closer to my body as I mumble the words, “I love you, too” to my wife as she heads out the door for her hour-long commute to work is routine. (I am a sunnavabitch, aren’t I?) I suppose fixing myself an obscene amount of coffee every morning as I try to get my brain out of first gear is routine. I would assume in the most abstract of cases checking Facebook, Twitter and ESPN.com every morning before I decide to tackle my real work can be considered a routine.

In all seriousness, however, structure in my day is as fleeting as the breeze.

There is one exception. It is something that, technically, can be categorized as dynamic, but the fact I get to do it every day - okay, almost every day - fills me with happiness, joy, and a riveting sense of completion. I’m talking about picking up my kids in the afternoon.

In order to understand what I mean, I first need to provide some background information. I’m divorced and my kids have primary residence with their mother. My ex and I are in the small minority of split-households with no concrete or court mandated schedule regarding our kids. Quite literally, we play every day by ear. For the most part, I pick them up every afternoon following school. Still, given how varied my social schedule can get, there is nothing really set in stone. My ex and I usually work out high level details the week before and coordinate on a day-to-day basis regarding the kids.

That being said, I so thoroughly look forward to picking up my kids and sharing the afternoon with them. I get to ask them how their day went, what new and interesting things they learned in school, and what’s going on in general with their lives. I get to help them with their homework and school projects. I get to cook them dinner and show off to them as we sit together and watch Jeopardy. It’s not always 100% like that, but it is a part of the responsibilities I need to complete as a dad, and it’s enough for me to call a routine.

The more I think about it, the more I know how lost I would be without that component in my life. Is it always convenient? No. Is it always fun? Not exactly. Still, it’s fills my life with purpose and meaning, and when I see the accomplishments of my children, be it in the classroom or on the athletic field, it fills me with such an incredible feeling of love that cannot adequately be put into words.

And love is the most appropriate word to describe this routine. I love getting to pick up my kids. I love being a dad to them. I love being in love with those two little people who are closer to being in college than they are to being in diapers. I know I have to cherish these moments. I need to absorb every ounce of emotion my time with my kids generates. I need to completely immerse myself in my role as father, educator, philosopher, counselor, and consultant to my kids. Their childhood only comes around once, and before I know it they’ll both be off to college, pursuing their dreams and taking their own steps into adulthood.

I’m afraid that when that time comes, my only routine will be to sit around and miss my kids.

A Regretful Retrospective

Shoulda’, coulda’, woulda’. When I look back at all the things not done and all the plans unrealized, I fall back on that old cliché. Shoulda’, coulda’, woulda’.

There was a lot of shoulda’, coulda’, woulda’ for me in 2010. Although I am pleased and proud of the many things Lee and I were able to do last year, I feel the number of items in the SCW pile far outweigh those marked as completed. I know part of the problem is wanting and attempting to do too many things at once. I know another aspect is my self-diagnosed ADD gets me started on plan A and before I know it, I’m wondering what to do with plan E.

If I had to narrow it down, however, I think one of my biggest regrets for 2010 is not finishing the fourth volume of my short novel series. I am sure I can go on for a thousand words with justifications as to why it didn’t happen, but the sad fact remains that Volume IV of Lives remains only a couple of pages into its existence. As I wrote yesterday, I will get this volume completed this year - early this year - but it really should have been done by now.

I look around the house and sigh at all the other things on my to-do list that fell by the wayside in 2010. We never got the home office redone (still a work in progress), we never organized and cleaned up the lanai (which is still littered with plants that were brought in because of the cold), and …. well, the list is just too long to cover.

I can put my finger on all the items listed above, but the one thing from last year that really makes me chagrin is not something tangible.

With all that I do, with anything I write, with any place I visit; it all begins with God. I know God is with me in all that I do. What bothers me most as I look back at 2010 is that I was not always with Him. Physical laziness may keep me from picking up that empty can of diet Coke that’s been sitting there for a week, but spiritual laziness will keep me from achieving everything I want to accomplish this year.

As I look back, it’s very obvious to me that I did not come close to doing my part in my relationship with God. I attended church in 2010 more than I had in the past five years, but it wasn’t nearly enough. There were times where four or five weeks would pass between the services I attended. Lee and I made financial offerings to our church and other charities, but I’ve yet to make giving back to God part of my financial priority. I prayed more in 2010 that I can ever remember, but I still don’t take 15 minutes out of every day to devote to Him.

It’s a bit ironic my single most important improvement from last year is also part of my biggest regret. Having been able to be a part of our church community for a full calendar year - Lee and I only started attending Relevant Church in June of ’09 - was so very rewarding. Still, it opened my eyes to how much further I have to go to be the Christ follower I want to be. To be the worshiper He wants me to be.

So, now that I have this spiritual kick to the butt to drive me, I revert back to my blog entry from yesterday and resolve to make God my priority first and foremost. He is already in all that I do. I pray I find the resolve to honor Him in the way I feel He’s calling me to do. Only then can I honestly know I am living a life with no regrets.