A Lesson in Life, and Hope.

At the school where my wife works they hosted an author night. It was Shane Burcaw. She knows I want to be an author, in the worst way, instead of just a blogger, in the worst way. I have already blogged in the worst ways imaginable, done that to death. So she asked if I would be interested. She warned me it was not the kind of author night I was accustomed to attending. But, I am an adult, why not?

Mr. Burcaw has Spinal Muscular Atrophy, a terrible disease that will eventually kill him. Not sooner or later, just sooner. Certainly sooner than he wants, for him there is no later. Before taking his life it will take everything else. It had already ravaged his body, but not his mind, not his pride, and certainly not his sense of humor, or his message of hope. After seeing him you just know it never will. SMA may win, but not without a fight.

We got there, and went into the room. Bright, crowded, lines of silver aluminum chairs with yellow seats and backs standing in curved rows, against the grey, blue background of the low, pile carpet. It looked like a teeth in a big, snarling, mocking grin. Man, do I hate going into schools.

A pleasant, smiling lady, wearing a light blue dress, and a subdued grey blazer rushed over, took my wife’s hand and said, breathlessly, excitedly, “we are so glad you came.” They knew each other, it was obvious, and they liked each other, it was plain to see. “Would you like some coffee?” she asked.

My wife doesn’t drink coffee, so she looked at me, and I said, “Are you crazy? I am stuck in a tiny room filled with teachers I need to keep a clear head just to get out of here alive.” But, it came out as “no, no thank you.” Words are funny that way.

“She was a teacher, it was a good thing you didn’t say anything stupid,” my wife said after the lady moved on.

Eventually, we found a place to sit. And we waited, in a small, bright, cheerful room, surrounded by teachers.

Brother, I could tell you, I have seen the worst side of teachers. But, they were in front of us, behind us, all around us. It seemed like the walls were getting closer, and I thought, briefly, of jumping out of the second floor window. If I timed it right and jumped far enough I could land on top of a minivan, and be past Dairy Queen before they could even get out their sharpened indestructible yardsticks. Unfortunately, my timing is lousy, and at my best I was never very athletic, and my best was years ago. I sat, sweating, hoping, waiting.

Shane Burcaw was worth every uncomfortable minute. He was amazing.

He made you laugh until you cried, and then he made you cry.

His trials had steeled him. His resolve was unbelievable. His sense of humor was earthy, and worldly at the same time. His message was hope. Life was hope, and as long as he had life he would have hope, he would have fun.

I wanted to see his face. It seemed so important to see the origins of such a powerful lesson, But, so many people were packed in the room my vision was blocked. Right, left, every time there was an opening somebody would shift just enough. I looked at the back of a lot of heads. I couldn't even really see the wheelchair. The wheelchair that he had been his all his life, and would be with him all his life.

A few glimpses, was all I could manage, though, It was not the face of a warrior, and it was not the voice of a warrior. But, it was the message of a warrior. Really, in a way, it was the face of a warrior, a hero who daily fought demons unimaginable to most of us. A paladin with the mischievous smile of anybody you ever knew who had learned the secret of being happy. 

Through stories that seemed terrible, but were presented as amusing anecdotes the message rang clear. Sometimes life is messy, sometimes life is unfair, but if you try you will find something good.

Here was a man who had to work to do almost everything, except smile. That came naturally, and from the rare glimpses I could see was a beacon of friendliness, warmth, and genial, good natured happiness. A smile that would have been at home on a quarterback’s face, a smile that you would be happy to vote for, a smile that you would buy a beer.

There was a question and answer session afterward, but I didn’t go. What could you ask that hasn’t been asked a hundred, a thousand times before? His smile, the twinkle in his eyes, his bawdy sense of humor was all the answers I needed.

I left there that night changed, better, I hope. If I didn’t well, that is on me. It may have been the bravest thing I have ever seen. I raise my coffee cup and give you a toast.

Hope Springs Eternal (and is a dish best served in anger)

Recently, last Friday, around lunch time, an associate of mine sent an email. A flawless email.

This was startling. Revolutionary. Here was the perfect email. I stared, in wonder, at the symmetry. The flawless execution. The profound complexity in its simple message.

Here was a way to tell everybody everything. And, you didn't have to tell anybody anything.

It was a memo with universal implications.

It addressed her sincere wishes, and her most vile curses, in three simple syllables. Hope, and despair, love and hate. It was a perfect circle in a square world.

"I hope you sprain your ankle, you sanctimonious son of a b#@*h, Martin!"

"Hope you get a pleasant night sleep, and have peaceful dreams, Jan."

"Hope you suffer from male pattern baldness you egotistical freak."

"I hope your dinner is the best you have ever eaten, and you still have room for dessert."

I was green with envy, sick with jealousy. Why didn't I think of that? What muse brought her this jewel of memorandum magic? Why not me?!??!!!

I was so angry I fired off an email.

"I hope you, too." It said.

She told me, "it doesn't work that way." And it was her device, so she would know.

I am looking into copyright laws, to find out when her rules will expire, and then I will load up the email cannon, and fire off a salvo of communication the likes of which have never before been seen.

Thanks for reading, and I hope you.

I'm NOT Sorry!

After a day of clicking on +1's, sharing all my favorite blogs, pinning, blogging my own posts, reading posts anddddd starting a collection on Google + all my own, which is beautiful by the way, I'm done for the night!

Tomorrow is another day which I will wake up, streach, walk like a zombie to get my coffee, enjoy the day and hopefully get in some new blog reading time:)

Today was in the 40's which is a heatwave as far as I'm concerned so Mrs. Spring I'm ready for you. I got this little squishy baby chicken that lights up when you shake it for little Barrett.

Easter and all the wonderful colors and church services, for some, is coming along with hope eternal.

No word today for this post cos I'm starving and tomorrow being March 1st the stop stuffing your face month begins:)

Farewell 2015

I am always excited about an incoming New Year. A New Year reminds me of that after it rains feeling where everything is washed cleaned and if you have them, rain barrels are filled.

That also means a new calendar which I still have to get one of. Usually, by now I have several free one's ready to go so I will have to go out and get one.

Remembering back on New Years Eve's past. The parties, the food, the friends who would always come to my invite filling my place up with fun, merriment and laughter.

I remember when I was 8 months pregnant with my son camping out in a tent waiting for a new apartment to move into. Most folks would be terrified at the thought, but I considered it an adventure and a story.

This year I would like to see the ball drop and pray it all goes okay so everyone can bring in a hopeful New Year.

What do you hope to see for the new year of 2016? I love stories so do tell.

Independence Day, and Safety, for the Fish, Anyway.

Yesterday was the 4th of July, and we celebrated by having our internet access and cable television restored. We had been independent, on and off, (sometimes it would work, and sometimes it wouldn't) for the last week of both. It seems there is always advice on the wisdom of unplugging, and we have conducted an unintentional experiment.  It was not terrible, but it was not liberating either. In the interest of honesty it should be noted we still had iPhones and internet at work.  So it was not complete isolation.  But, it is up and running again, thank you gods of technology.

Also, we were independent of fish. Which is not unusual, we spend most of our life independent of fish. What made it spectacular is the fact that we bought fishing gear, and tackle, and fishing licences, and went in search of the wily, elusive beasts. But, they managed to outsmart us, and gave us the slip.

This comes as no surprise, of course, I used to fish all the time, and fish have outmaneuvered me at every turn. But, it is was about the chase, the sport, the game.  Fishing is something I do, catching fish is not.

But, my son talked me into fishing with him.  Friday we headed over to the outdoor sporting goods mega store.  Several dollars later we walked away with new rods, reels, lures, and hope (which does spring eternal, by the way).

On the way home we scouted a few good locations, tramping through a soggy forest in the rain. You need to sacrifice to achieve success. Since the internet was working, temporarily when we got home, and our state has an online option we got our fishing license emailed to us, and we were ready.

Saturday was bright, warm and perfect for fishing.  Off we went, after a while, no point in being a damned fool about it, anyway. Bottles of water, and cold Dr. Pepper, and the adventure was joined.

Fishing is not a particularly complicated activity, but, there is a technique involved, a technique we need to master. We tangled a lot of fishing line, and had to cut it off our reels. Here is a fishing tip, take a sharp knife and bandages.  It is probably a good idea to take some hand wipes and a few snacks, as well. There is a lot a fisherman has to remember.

So, we fished for several hours, and we carried all of our trash out, and disposed of it properly. We cut away line and we lost a lure, we walked away laughing. And that means it was worth every cent.

Here is a little warning to all of the fish in the area.  You can run and you can hide and you can swim right up to the bank and laugh in my face, but I am coming for you. Just kidding, your are safe. Snacks and soft drinks you might be in trouble.

Life Explained, explains music, kind of.

This is the first in a three part series about music, kind of.  It will probably be sequential, but if a good idea for a post strikes it will have to be allowed to flourish.  Ok, if a good idea for a post strikes, it will be the first time, yes, I know, that is why it will take precedence.

We will start with music from my past, from the dark times of my life, a giant wizard of poetry who got me through some desperate days.  Then we will move on to the present, and a couple of guys I "met" on Twitter who have proven to me that there is still some good in the world, and happiness is what you make of life.  Last we will look at the absurd, and ways to improve things for only $5.99 or $6.99, I don't remember.  But, here is the first post about music, sort of.

"I will indulge my sorrows, and give way to all the pangs and fury of despair."

Joseph Addison.

When I first started to toy with the idea of having a blog it was because of people like Graham Parker.  His lyrics were so pointed, so brutally delicious, so beautifully painful, they were a rock for me to cling to when I felt lost. His songs were so important, so demanding, so strong, so unavoidable. His muse was life, pain, suffering, and he never surrendered. In the end he helped me learn to hang on, and never give up.

Graham Parker never wrote music, he summoned music to life from the darkest pits of the soul, he sharpened music into a razor, he used music to fight back. He fought back for everybody who didn't have a voice, all of the people who had something to say, and did not know how.  He was angry, and his anger was a wonderful distraction from the hopelessness that seemed to be everywhere.

For five minutes and eleven seconds "Empty Lives" would remind me that I wasn't alone.  There were others just as lost, just as scared, in just as much pain. And when it was finished life did not seem so pointless.

When he sang;

"Sometimes, you play around I don't know what your game is,
Sometimes it hurts so bad I don't know where the pain is."*

Or,

"The dark hand will call you out of nowhere it seems,
The black cloud will bust apart, shattering your dreams."**

It was tonic, it was balm, it was remedy. It was the music that could soothe the savage beast. And, it got me through. And now, it makes me happy just knowing that Graham Parker is still giving voice to sentiments that many fear, still wrestling with the terrible, still making music that people need.

It has driven me ever since. Words can be so wonderful, so powerful, so poignant. They can express so much.  There were others of course, but Graham Parker was always there to show me the way out of misery, to turn despair into defiance, to prove that if you fight you can prevail.

Now, I am happier, and if not any braver, less afraid. A lot of that comes from living this long, hey that is an accomplishment.  But, a lot of it is my wife, who has helped me in ways she will never understand, and I can never explain.  In the words of Graham Parker;

"When I get the fear, gets down to the bone
But when you're near I don't feel alone...

Oooh, baby your love does it all,
Even when the world makes my skin crawl."

It was difficult to pick a song to put here, he had so many that meant so much.  In the end I went with "Empty Lives." It is a song that says so many things in so many ways.***

He has a new album coming out, called "Mystery Glue" and the one song I have heard is as great as I had hoped.  But, if you want my advice don't wait, go get one of his old albums, maybe start with "Another Grey Area" sit back, close your eyes, and let Graham Parker fight your fights for an hour or so, he is willing and able, and you could use the break.  He was always willing to fight for me.

Tune in tomorrow, or the next day, or soon and hear about "Boy From the Crowd."  The band, the brand, the work it takes, and why everybody could learn something from them, even while enjoying the music.

* From "It's All Worth Nothing Alone"

** "Fear Not."

*** For a time I had this song as my ring tone. My wife and I were walking through Macy's and I said "stop, listen, they are playing Graham Parker."  I was amazed.  She looked at me, patiently and with love, touched my cheek softly, gently, and said, "answer your phone, you idiot."

Sports, A Gilded Cage, Or A Damp Dungeon.

Hope is a dish best served cold, with a side of cheese, and a few crackers, occasionally you should toss in some prosciutto, and a healthy dose of anticipation.  Of course, it also goes well with a few cold beers, some chips, a little salsa, maybe some melted cheese and a dash of delusional dreaming.  You might as well crack open a couple of soft drinks, and throw in some pizza, because the season is really heating up, or hasn't started yet, or is just finishing, and hope is moving in for a while.

 Hope is always present when watching sports, it hangs around, feeding you dreams of glory, (for the participants, the athletes who have trained, and worked, and studied, and given so much) dreams of success beyond measure. For you it provides the opportunity to marvel at someones else's talent and accomplishments.

And, if a team is so talented, and lucky you can slap high fives until your wrist is sprained and scream in joy so often your vocal cords have nodules, and you are permanently hoarse, then you will have the right to brag about how you have rooted for a team that won some sort of prestigious honor.  Ah, hope you are a true friend.

But, where goes hope, so goes despair. Despair is a dish best served cold, with a few belts of Kentucky Bourbon, or Mexican Tequila, nothing sweet, or nutritious, tepid, flat beer, and lukewarm coffee, maybe a sandwich of stale bread and old, slightly rancid bologna.  And you are never more than a fumbled ball, errant pass, foolish, hurried shot, or momentary lapse on defense from the pits of desperation.  Sadness, and indifference, or anger, and disbelief, these are the companions of loss, these are hand maidens of defeat.

Fortunately, dawn is waiting, sort of, maybe the next game, maybe a new season, possibly the second half.  Whatever it is, there is hope, blossoming right in front of you, a fresh chance, that guy could really turn this thing around, there is hope, you can almost smell victory.  But, you can also feel the cold, uncomfortable icy sting of defeat, waiting, just out of sight, but always there.

In the beautifully haunting, tender, yet cruel words of Ray Davies;

"For those who are successful,
Be always on your guard,
Success walks hand in hand with failure,
Along Hollywood Boulevard."

Humanity is an odd bunch.  We throw so much of ourselves into things over which we have no control, throwing time, money, and affection at strangers we can never hope to meet.  We feel such joy, and sadness over things that are beyond our control.  We have 24 hour, 7 days a week coverage of teams that only play once a week, and we still can't get enough.  We have fantasy teams, coverage of recruiting, bracketologists, draft experts, websites, talk radio, non stop, never ending sports, and it is still not enough.

All of which leads me to one conclusion, I can't wait until the game tomorrow.  And basketball season is almost here.  It will be awesome, sometimes.

It's Not Too Late, Yet!

We, here at Life Explained, have changed the threat level from "imminent system failure, and the collapse of civilization" to "cautious optimism."  This change is expressed in the ominous, chilling graphic below.

Last Week                                                                                                       Today

Obviously, things are looking up, and there is renewed hope, here at Life Explained. 

What could cause such a swing, such a sudden, dramatic change?  That is a very good question.  Recently, we here at Life Explained, learned of the selfless acts of one man, one giving, caring man, who, with no thought of reward, no flashy exclamations of self aggrandizement, one man with very little to gain at all, and a hearty investment of time and money, has decided to launch The Fantastic Traveling Book Project.

People all over the world will have the opportunity to share some personal, part of their life in words and pictures with strangers from distant places.  People who thought they had nothing in common could find some mutual ground, some small common trait.  If people start talking, and looking for similarities instead of differences who knows where that might lead.  Maybe even peace and understanding.

What can you do to help?  I am not sure, but, there is a Forum on the site, Forum, for the Fantastic Traveling Book Project, and that might be a good place to ask the venerable Mr. Raven what you can do to assist.  

Anyway, we should all take an active interest in this, we should all be jumping on the chance to spread the word, and the books.  In the immortal words of The Police;

"We can all sink or we all float,

Because we are all in the same big boat."

So, do the right thing, it will make you happy.

Hey, somebody has to win.

Before we start today, you deserve a little explanation, a reason for the way things are done in some places.  Mostly here, and exclusively on an NCAA bracket selection sheet.  I am a fan, and root with abandon for a team.  It is a passionate rite that endures bad seasons, and rough stretches.  It is like a friendship, a relationship, a marriage or a family.  Sure, sometimes things are not perfect, and occasionally a rocky stretch will cut deep.  But, we stand together, me and the teams.  I can not pick another team to beat my team on the sheet, it would be infidelity, it would be unfaithful, it would be wrong, and then when the game took place I would have to choose between hoping my team lost, or I lost.  So, I picked Nebraska to win the NCAA tournament.

From an unnamed source and used without permission.

While filling out my brackets I took the words of Coach Miles to heart when he said "I think we're a good enough team to win the tournament."  Coach Miles does not seem to be guilty of overt, macho bravado, or rampant, wild conceit, it is a quiet confidence, at least outwardly, that drives his words.  So, I picked Nebraska to win the NCAA tournament.  

After so many years of accepting an early end to the season, and looking forward to spring football coverage, this is exciting, and the joy of possibility is a powerful force.  Things are getting better, and it is happening now.  So, I am picking the Huskers to win the NCAA tournament.

In the hauntingly appropriate words of the great Bob Dylan.

"It’s undeniable what they’d have you to think
It’s indescribable, it can drive you to drink,
They said it was the land of milk and honey
Now they say it’s the land of money
Who ever thought they could ever make that stick
It’s unbelievable you can get this rich this quick"

One of my earliest memories is, and I was just a child, when my Mother, rest her soul, took me aside at a family reunion, and said to me, "Tim, if something carries a statistical probability, no matter how slight, that does not diminish over time it will eventually happen."  Those may not have been her exact words, but it was something like that.  And, after this season, it is safe to say that the statistical probability of Nebraska winning the tournament not only did not diminish it sky rocketed.  So, while Coach Miles, and I may have the time variable a little off, we are probably pretty accurate, if not this year, one year very soon.  So, I picked Nebraska to win next years NCAA tournament.  Yes, next year, the riches just keep piling up.

And, since I feel so good about this, here is a bonus appropriate Dylan quote for the day.


"It’s unbelievable like a lead balloon
It’s so impossible to even learn the tune
Kill that beast and feed that swine
Scale that wall and smoke that vine
Feed that horse and saddle up the drum
It’s unbelievable, the day would finally come"

So, has our day finally come?  Yes, to me it has.  By the way, I like the Cornhuskers in this years big dance, who are you picking?

A funny thing happened on the way to spring training.

Growing up in Nebraska provides an incentive to become a college football fan.  The Cornhuskers are normally pretty good, and win enough to keep most people happy.  It provides a certain herd like solidarity, and makes for good conversation.  However, at some point, the details are foggy with the passing time, college basketball became my favorite sport.

Basketball games are frenetic, passionate, fluid affairs.  They are an art form unique to sports were height and strength are rewarded, but so are quickness, speed and elusiveness.  Each game is a drama, complete with heroes (your team), villains (the other team) and corrupt, indifferent administrators (the referees).  That was just a joke, the referees do a fine job, when my team wins.  Each season is a chase to end, teams trying to win enough games to get a good spot in the conference tournament, and a chance to play for the National Championship in the NCAA tourney.

The NCAA tournament is a season of it's own.  A single elimination meat grinder that chews up dreams and leaves them on basketball courts in places like Dayton, Lexington, Palo Alto, or Syracuse.  Out of 68 one will go home champions and the rest will take their place in the shadows.  It is the pinnacle of sports entertainment, it is my fantastic.

But, as a Nebraska fan it was more a show of support to watch a game, maybe a little punishment that you took with a good natured smile as you thought "well, at least we were only down by eight at halftime."  Even though we got trounced.  But, they were Huskers, so you loved them.

Then something strange happened, Nebraska hired this guy to coach the team.  He was exuberant, and charming, and he had such a youthful appearance and enthusiasm that it seemed like they may have picked the biggest smile from the student section and made him the coach.  But, there was something about him, something promising, it came through during interviews, and in the way he carried himself.  Even my wife said he was going to do good things.

Last year, Coach Miles had a rough year, his players were mostly recruits from the previous staff, and he did well, and never lost his composure.  His exuberance was contagious, and his charm was undeniable, and he looked like he enjoyed what he was doing, and he seemed to love the players.  He always seemed to say the right thing, in a way that made you like him more.

This year, his teams started winning, beating teams named Indiana, Ohio State, even Michigan State, in East Lansing, and when they play it is with a manic, wonderful joy, that is fun to watch, because it looks like they are having fun on the court.  They jump into passing lanes, and back again with a quickness that is alarming, they shoot, and rebound, and move, and win.  And, through the winning Coach Miles is as pleasant and charming.

He has recruits who are winning now, and there are some, waiting on the bench, and will be on the court next year, and his team is only going to get better.  Tonight Penn State comes to Lincoln and I will be watching on the Big Ten Network, and Nebraska will try to avenge a loss from earlier this year.  My advice to all right minded people out there, start watching, and cheering, and enjoying the show, order your Nebrasketball shirts, and hats, it is going to get better.  Bob Dylan said it best.

"Come along with me, babe, I wish you would,
You know what I'm saying, it's all good."

Dylan wouldn't lie.

Thank you, Coach Miles, it is nice to be able to say Go Big Red in February.