291

 

May 11th, 2010 @ 3:02 PM.

My first blog. 

May 11th, 2025 @ 2:02 PM.  My 291st. 

I never had a goal in mind for this.  Random thoughts, wandering musings, contemplative lessons, quirky creations.  A mixed potpourri of lifelong ingredients to help even out the roller coaster ride. 

It all started with a "fork in the road" moment. It has since become a full drawer of utensils of every shape and size. 

I hit 49 in 2011.  A low of 5 in 2014.  

It's been a helluva ride, but not sure where to go next.  

Writer's block? Maybe not.  A different utensil?  Maybe. 

If 291 is the last one, thanks for coming along for the ride.  

Last Call

Pull up a barstool and belly up…the first one is on me. 

Your local watering hole.  Your home away from home. 

Where the bartender knows your drink and everyone buys a round.  The fellowship.  The random conversations and connections. Where knowledge, insight, and perspective are always on tap. 

All is well (unless you aim for the top shelf)…until the clock strikes midnight and it’s closing time…permanently. 

Damn.  The memories come rushing back like a pour without a bottle pourer. The good times and laughter,  The not-so-good times and tears. The free advice from the wise barkeep. You wonder “what the hell am I going to do now.” 

You go in for one last one, close your tab, and you move on. Last call. 

Then one day, you wander into another place.  You find a barstool that fits just right.  Tell the garçon your drink of choice and just like that…new memories are tapped.  The circle of watering holes. 

Cheers! 

Patricia, Nancy, Todd, and Matt

 

It was the Fall of 1985. The first semester of a freshman-year theater class, Theater 101 (everything in life is 101 the first time you do it, right?). 

I really didn't know my path. I knew I loved media, marketing, and writing. I knew I was pretty good at theater (I was actually a really good dancer.  I got into theater because I played football and my high school was putting on West Side Story and wanted football players to play Jets and Sharks).  So, theater it was. 

My T.A. was named Patricia (Pat) Ryan. A brilliant and talented Grad student who taught our class. 

To be accepted into the program, you had to do a 2-3 minute monologue in front of 13 professors. My closest classmates were Nancy, Todd, and Matt. They were all so talented. Nancy was amazingly nice, smart, and had a huge heart. Everything seemed cool and easy for Todd. Effortless. Breezy. Matt was one of the most naturally funny people I had ever met. 

Pat called us in after our auditions and told us all we made the program.  She then told Nancy, Todd, and Matt they could go but she wanted to talk to me alone. 

She told me "I made it but not by a unanimous vote." She asked me "Do you know why you weren't unanimous? It's because you are good and you know it. You don't try as hard as the others. You take something, learn it, throw it away, and then move on to the next thing." 

Wow.  I was completely taken aback. I was fucking 18 years old and had no clue how to respond at first. Lucky for me, I eventually took it to heart, got my shit together, and started working harder for things. I stopped taking things for granted. 

Nancy and I did "Barefoot in the Park."  It was my first "real" theatrical kiss. Loved working with her. 

I got out of the program about a year later. Matt and Todd were so much more talented than me but didn't conform to some of the more rigid rules and didn't get accepted the next time we had to re-audition. I thought to myself "How can they not make it?! Maybe this isn't for me." 

I eventually went into Communications. Great choice with zero regrets. 

I lost track of all of them but they left an indelible impression on me. 

Thank you, Pat, for being real with me. 

Thank you, Nancy, Todd, and Matt for being real friends. 

Scene. 

The image is Vilas Hall; UW-Madison Theater Department.

Regrets?

 

Regrets, I've had a few...but then again, too few to mention. 

The immortal words of wisdom from the 'Chairman of the Board'. 

I think about this tune often and ask myself, "Do I have regrets?" The answer is clear for all of us, but it's truly a matter of semantics, context, and time. Regrets inherently imply a painful dwelling of mistakes. And in the moment or in the recency aura of the event, it truly is regret.   

But as time goes by, hopefully, the regret turns into reflection.  If it doesn't make that shift and you continue to own regret, it can be crippling.  I know people who carry these moments with them like permanent luggage.  The weight is so heavy, they can't see any way out. 

At times, the reflection can turn back into regret momentarily. A trigger could reposition it. 

Regrets aren't necessarily bad and conversely, reflection isn't necessarily good.  They are what they are. 

We learned of the three R's in school. It's time to remember the three R's in life. 

Regrets, reflections...and releases. 

Everybody Wants to Rule the World

 

"Most of freedom and of pleasure, nothing ever lasts forever. Everybody wants to rule the world." 

Everybody Wants to Rule the World.  The iconic 80's anthem from the English pop rock band Tears for Fears, hit the right chords for me lyrically during my teen years. 

I heard it recently and immediately was transported back in time when I truly felt like I could rule the world (didn't we all think that way when we were 17 or 18).  I started thinking about other song lyrics that spoke to me.  

"When I was thirty-five, it was a very good year.  It was a very good year for blue-blooded girls of independent means."  

"And when October goes, the snow begins to fly, above the smoky roofs, I watch the planes go by. The children running home beneath a twilight sky.  Oh, for the fun of them, when I was one of them."  

"But, I still believe. I still believe. Through the pain and through the grief.  Through the lives, through the storms.  Through the cries, and through the wars."  

"It's slinging mud and dirt and grass.  It's I got your number, I got your back when your back's against the wall.  You mess with one man, you got us all.  The boys of fall."  

"What goes up must come down. Spinning wheel got to go 'round. Talkin' 'bout your troubles, it's a cryin' sin.  Ride a painted pony...let the spinning wheel spin. 

What tune are you singing? 

The Final Chapter

 

My wife got me a book for Christmas.  It's the book that inspired the movie I have already seen and loved. And, I love the book. 

There is one section of the book though, where I felt the writer went off the tracks just a bit. Have you ever listened to a song that went on one too many lyrical clusters?  A movie that had a scene or two that was unnecessary?  A book that veered off path for too long? 

What's too long?  When do you come up with the final note, chapter, or verse? 

Writing anything is subjective to the author so there's no right answer. But, there's a feel.  Hemmingway once said "If I started to write elaboratively...I found I could cut that scrollwork or ornament out and throw it away." 

Far from it for me to judge someone else's pacing, flow, or rhythm...or when they direct us to the final chapter. I only go here for my own growth. 

Turn the page. 

Is a Scoreboard Black & White?

Does the scoreboard tell the whole story? 

Absolutely not (Disclaimer; we aren't talking about the t-ball mentality where everyone gets a medal.  At the end of the day, wins count). 

In sports, business, or life, losing is inherent to winning.  You have to fall short so you aim higher.  The step backward is critical to the two steps forward.  

You have to dig deeper into what the scoreboard tells you. Did you learn something?  Did you make mistakes that led to the loss?  Did you grow? 

Can you make a case for moral victories?  When you are looking at the microscope, absolutely.  The telescope is a much different view. Many moral victories eventually lead to a scoreboard win.  

What you can't do is accept the losses without growth.  What you can't do is continue to do the same things without changing (Einstein said something about this). What you can't do is become complacent with the L.  You have to turn these losses into building blocks to become better.  

When the clock strikes zero, there is a winner or loser.  The scoreboard is the headline.  The byline though decides what happens next. 

Fireside Randomness

As the clock ticks down on 2024, it's time to drink deep from the randomness bottle and spew some musings and thoughts. 

No matter the time of day, or season, a wood burning fire is a true delight. 

Going to therapy or counseling is a good thing only when you truly give them permission to call you on your bullshit. 

Red sauce is so much better than white sauce. 

12 personnel is so much damn fun when you have the players. 

Reading actual paper books is therapy on its own.

"Sideways" and  "Swingers" are the consummate dude friend flicks.  

Day drinking and afternoon delights are healthy choices when used in moderation. 

If you truly live your life like Kerouac, Hemmingway, Shackleton, and Buffett did, you'd be the best version of yourself. 

There is nothing sexier than a tall beautiful blonde in tall boots. 

You should hate to lose more than you love to win. 

Dive bar bartenders are the best people to take advice from (and cheaper than doctors or lawyers). 

You are never too busy to take in a sunset or sunrise, go for a walk, talk with an old friend, read a book, sit quietly, write, appreciate art, listen to music, dance for no reason, or take a 20 minute nap. 

I challenge you to find a better all purpose word that carries such a diversity of emotions than "fuck." 

Dave Brubeck is still the definition of "cool." 

Don't confuse goals with dreams.  And, don't stop working on both. 

And...once you find your "happy place," go back to it, often. 

The Waiting Game

 

An uncomfortable quietness mixed with a feeling of helplessness. Uneasy anticipation. Impatiently waiting for the news.  

The hospital waiting room. 

Unlike in days of yore, when expectant fathers waited in the waiting room, today's waiting room is usually filled with a thick haze of despair.  

Hoping to hear that "everything went well" or "she is going to be okay." 

The minutes go by and it feels like a lifetime. 

You wonder what others are there for.  What are their stories? 

You could stretch your legs and get coffee to pass the time. Maybe, you read. Maybe, you watch TV mindlessly while you wait for the doors to open and call your name.  Whatever you can do to keep your mind going where you don't want it to go. 

Tom Petty said it best. "The waiting is the hardest part."  You are in limbo as your and your loved one's fates are in someone else's hands but the next time you find yourself in the waiting room, be kind to yourself, hold onto hope, and give yourself permission to feel what you are feeling.  It's Ok to be frightened of the "what if" and be excited about the "what could be." 

"The doctor will see you now."

Let's Get Physical

 

Before we discuss my latest physical, I need to give a prologue about Olivia Newton-John. 

It was a dream. Probably nine...maybe ten years old.  I still remember it like it was yesterday. 

Apparently, in my dream, Olivia was not only good friends with my sister but also an ex-girlfriend of mine (yes, the sleepover my sister had was awkward).  She drove me to my grade school (on a motorcycle of course) as we said our last goodbyes. She dropped me off, we hugged and kissed each other goodbye and that was it.  My first love...over, and there was no Danny Zuko comeback.  I was hopelessly devoted to her. 

Now, onto the real meat of tonight's diatribe.  My annual physical. I started seeing my new Doc last year when I moved and it was really just about who was seeing new patients.  Last year, high cholesterol.  Low blood pressure, triglycerides, and weight.  This year, low cholesterol and blood pressure and higher triglycerides and weight.  It's always something when you're getting older (I still can't figure out how I got this old).  The good news is that there is no bad news about the prostate, liver, or kidneys. 

A check-up is important. Both physically and mentally.  Your body and mind work together to get through this thing called life. Your soul then, follows. Take care of yourself.  Cleanse the brain and the bod every once in a while. 

Cheat sometimes, but don't cheat yourself.  Treat yourself, but not always with treats.  Care and be cared. Moderate and indulge. Live the teeter-totter to the fullest. 

Here's the thing...I've known way too many people who have died young (yes, anything under 70 is young).  I don't want to lose another. 

Time for some Xanadu. 

Pain

 Traveling for work and decided to catch a movie.  A Real Pain. 

Afterward, my wife asked me if it was good. 

It was.  I also said it was interesting.  She thought that might be akin to saying a blind date you met "had a good personality."  But that wasn't the case.  It truly was both.  

There was sadness mixed with joy.  Playfulness muddled with dread.  Innocence blended with scars. 

I tried to find the meaning and I came away with the feeling that through pain, we feel.  Through pain, we endure.  Through pain, we connect.  Real pain makes you feel alive. 

Recently, I was feeling pain.  It was because a series of seemingly unrelated circumstances that were all thrown into the pot and simmered until it reached a boil.  After some tears, honest talks, and  reconnections, I felt the healing salve. 

Ironically, in an empty theater, I felt connected.  Calm and at peace.  Maybe it was the pain before.  Maybe it was the cocktail before.  Maybe it was the story I was watching.  Maybe...it's just a part of healing. 

Maybe...

I Vote For...

 

We just experienced one of the more controversial elections in our history. I tip my hat to those who voted and had their voice heard. Whether you are blue or red, we move on and turn another chapter. 

Every day, we make a choice.  Every day, we vote. 

I vote for capturing every sunrise and sunset.

I vote for lazy Sunday mornings with breakfast in bed. 

I vote for hugs, kisses, and laughter. 

I vote for warm fires and blankets on cold, winter nights. 

I vote to stay naked after sex. 

I vote to love our children. 

I vote to walk away from people who drain you. 

I vote to travel. 

I vote to dance.  Where ever and whenever. 

I vote to read. 

I vote for being kind. 

I vote for the little things in life. 

I vote to always try and live my life to the fullest. 

I vote for the sport of football. 

We do our duty every four years to elect our leader, and, sometimes it doesn't work out the way we want...but we still vote. 

Just like life.  We don't always succeed, but we still need to choose. We still need to vote. 

Always...until the polls close. 

With a Little Help from My Friends

 

Whether it be the raspy vocals of Joe Cocker or the harmonic tones of The Beatles, the message was clear...

"Getting by with a little help from our friends" is the main ingredient to our stew of life. 

We all get stuck in neutral sometimes.  We all feel the roller coaster inching its way back down.  We all walk through the muddy pool (that's necessary for the Lotus to grow). 

We shouldn't feel like we are flying this mission solo.  We should feel like we are a part of something bigger. Connected. When we lose contact with mission control, the system is broken and malfunctions occur.  

When that happens, go the Bell Telephone route...reach out and touch someone.  

Today. 

PS: If you don't have a friend to reach out to, please make the call.  Counseling works.  

What if the Triple Lindy Was It?

Thornton Melon.  The Rodney Dangerfield character from the movie "Back to School," the 1986 comedy where Melon decides to go back to school to help his son Jason find his way. 

It was filmed in Madison, Wisconsin on the UW Madison campus.  I was a freshman.  They announced open auditions for extras and since I was an aspiring actor at the time, I figured "Why not?" 

The line outside Headliners was blocks long with hundreds of students looking to get a big break. They let 5-7 of us in at a time.  As the hours dragged on, the random thoughts of what might be kept creeping in.  We were not told what roles the extras would play, but that didn't matter.  It was our big shot. 

I entered with 5 others and walked on stage almost like a police lineup as none of us knew what to expect.  The lights were bright and after a few minutes of just standing there, a silhouette of a person yelled out..."Numbers 2, 3, and 5, thank you for your time, we won't be needing you."  I was number 1. 

After all of that, that was that.  And, scene...

Turns out the extra roles they were looking for were "drunken frat guys."  I guess it was somewhat complimentary to hear I didn't look the part. 

But, what if that was one of those key turning points in life?  We never know when a left turn or a right makes all the difference in life's road.  Was it fate?  Is our path pre-ordained or is life a multiple-choice exam where we have several distinct branches depending on our decisions, choices, or cards that are dealt? 

We will never know because of course, it's a hypothetical question.  Still, that being the case, one does wonder.  

I guess I will never know if the Triple Lindy was really it for me...

...even with the additional springboard. 

To Fall

 

Autumn.  

A time of change. A time of transition.  A time where nature blooms one more time before it dies from Winter’s sharp, icy blade. A necessary death that leads to re-birth. 

As leaves fall from the trees and leave them barren, we realize…such is life.  

We have to lose to grow again.  To see the colors, we have to feel the black and white.  To live…a part of us must die. 

But there is a reason for the kaleidoscope of paint before the darkness that is to come.  It’s to appreciate the beauty that is. Such is life.  

Mother Nature realized that death is a part of our seasons.  Such is life. 

We must fall…so that we can learn how to get back up again. 

To Fall. 

Are You a Critic or a Fan?

Reagan. 

Polarizing as a President. 

Almost more polarizing as a movie. 

The gap between the critics and the fans of the movie is significant. The coldest of wars.  

Critics critique the cinematography, the over-dramatization of the music and camera angles, Dennis Quaid's portrayal of Reagan, etc.  Fans are all about it. 

The Rotten Tomatoes critic's score is an abysmal 22%. 

Fans dig it. 4.7 out of 5 stars. 

Do you live your life as a critic or a fan? 

A critic is smart, evaluative, and technical. A fan is subjective, emotional, and appreciative. 

Neither is good or bad.  It just is. 

Some might gravitate towards the idealistic rom-com version of a fan life. Some might gravitate towards the jaded version of a critic. 

70/30 

70% fan. 30% critic.  

The right mix of left and right brain.  The perfect cocktail of idealism and realism.  Enough skepticism to keep you grounded blended with the optimism to let you fly. The perfect concoction...

...to see the bright dawn ahead. 

Green-ishlights

 “We all step in shit from time to time. We hit roadblocks, we fuck up, we get fucked, we get sick, we don’t get what we want, we cross thousands of “could have done better”s and “wish that wouldn’t have happened”s in life. Stepping in shit is inevitable, so let’s either see it as good luck or figure out how to do it less often.”

One of my favorite reads is "Greenlights" by Matthey McConaughey.  It's self-help without the BS.  Old school therapy that was shaken up in a margarita glass. A mixed elixir of Kerouac, Watts, and Chesney. 

It gave me a shot glass size of motivation to send some randomness your way.  Greenishlights if you will (because no one can match the crystal clear green-ness of McConaughey). 

What comes up, will come down.  What goes down, will come up. Ride the painted pony...

We live as the Lotus lives...we need the mud to make the flower. 

Coaching young people in sports is much bigger than what happens on the field or the court. 

You should feel pain when your favorite team loses. 

Passion and perspective are the two most important variables of life. 

Your true soulmate becomes your fantasy, your reality, and your dream. 

Keep believing. 

A well-timed/placed F-bomb is accepted. 

People are hurting.  You never know when a random act can heal. 

The older you get, the more you will prefer Gin over Vodka.  

Black coffee and neat Scotch are good for the soul. 

Take chances. 

You can never say "I love you" too many times. 

Ernest Shackleton is still the best explorer of all time. 

Don't regret your life. Live it. 

PS; I tried to find a contemplative image of myself to match McConaughey.  The best I could do was a shot of me on a run.   

Can You Handle the Truth

 

Friday, May 14th, 2010. 

My first official entry into the blog-o-sphere.  Blast off. 

It was a strange time of my life.  Searching for answers.  Looking for clarity on my path.  Frostian motivated. Which road do I take?  The one less traveled or the safe path.  I chose safely...for a while. 

273 entries later...I struggle sometimes with how far I take my scribed journey. 

So many more truths to explore. A veritable jungle where my pen acts as the machete that lets sunlight in. 

Times forgotten. Some purposefully.  Some, quite by accident.  

Some, where you feel the excitement of the roller coaster grinding up the hill, and some where you scream as the descent comes crashing down. 

Snapshots in time. Chapters of the book. 

Are we entitled to the truth?  Not sure. 

Will it do any good?  Also...not sure. 

Maybe later.  Maybe not. 

Not now though. 

Not now. 

Life in Front of a Green Screen

 

Rain. 

And lots of it. 

A Pluviophile's fantasy as of late. 

For the last month, rain has been a constant on the menu.  The daily special.  The weather du jour. 

Mind you, I really don't mind the rain.  There is nothing better than a midnight thunderstorm to dream during. 

The easiest time to be a Meteorologist.  Rain, rain, and more rain.  

And of course, Mother Nature will do what Mother Nature wants to.  There's nothing we can do to control it. 

Such is life.  The "no-control" list is long...

• What other people do. 
• How other people see you. 
• How other people treat you. 
• Whether other people like you. 
• What other people think, feel, or believe. 
• How other people internalize things you say and do. 
• What happens to other people. 
• Your thoughts and feelings. 
• The past. 
• The future.
• Aging. 
• The inevitability of getting hurt (emotionally or physically). 
• Suffering in the world. 

The more you accept and embrace what you can't control, the more control you have over your actions and responses driven by those events. By giving up control, you gain control. The paradigm of life. 

In other words, the more you learn to dance in the rain, the less wet you feel. 

No umbrellas needed. 

Red Oaks Remembered

Recently, I was introduced to the show, "Red Oaks."  A brilliant (albeit short-lived) creation set in the mid-80s following the trials and tribulations of David Meyers (Craig Roberts), a college-aged modern-day Benjamin Braddock who is trying to navigate that transitory stage of life going from kid to adult. Whether it be his dating life, career choices, or family drama, we watch David find his way (sometimes clumsily, sometimes accidentally, and sometimes expertly). 

The show hits home on so many different levels. 

    I worked at the Beloit Country Club from 1985-1987. 

    One of my best friends was Mark, the Tennis Pro.  

    My Mom and Dad were divorced and I lived primarily with my Dad. 

    We had "employee" days and parties at the Club. 

Many nights after hours were spent at the Club pool with Mark, my sister Kelly, and my girlfriend, Wendy (pictured above).  

These were Summers of fun. Summers of change.  Summers of growth.  

I look back fondly on that time.  It was the perfect place to experience the life transition we were all going through...from carefree kid to aspiring adult with the world in front of us. We were living life through a microscope as the rest of the world was telling us to look through the telescope.  

The show is labeled as a "coming of age" genre.  I've never explored that term in real life but it fits. 

Looking back, we all came of age...

...in the shadows of the manicured greens and sculpted courts. 

Epilogue; I eventually married that girlfriend and she sadly passed away at the age of 41.  My sister died at 56.  I lost track of Mark. But, I will always have those summers to remember.