Category Archives: Entertainment

Summer Happened So Fast…

Summer; it’s the time of year songs are written for, and the season when free time turns into play time. Free time turns into play time; that almost sounds like a Pure Michigan tagline.

It must be said that summer is the time of year most people relish. It’s the season of long days, and super fun activities. It feels like the recess period to our normally academic lives.

Most people love summer. And while I love wonderful outdoor weather, baseball, fresh produce, and time on the lakes, I differ with most people in the all-consuming summer worship.

On the positive side, summer reminds me of childhood. It actually rejuvenates the child within me, when I take the time to enjoy its nutrients. But, as it reminds me of childhood, that reminder also confirms that I am no longer a child. In fact, my years removed from childhood somehow increase year from year ;)

It’s a season of extremes, and I’m a girl of balance. It’s a reminder to take in the sunshine in life, all while the calm in me seeks a bit more of the darkness. The days are long and the nights are short; more time to play, but less time to rest. And with time and age, that rest is golden.

As we speedboat ever close to Labor Day weekend, the weekend that signals, essentially, the end of summer, I look back on yet another high flying, barely sleeping summer of fun-loving.

Our summer kicked off Memorial Day weekend in Traverse City. We spent 5 days with my folks, and my brother and his wife, mixing in a larger family party and meeting up with various friends. It’s hard to have a bad time in Traverse City, even when the storms dominated our days. In all actuality, the storms made for an awesome setting, and I loved rocking on the porch, chatting with family, as the rain poured down and thunder rattled the house. Pretty cool setting. That was also the weekend we moved from sleeping spot to sleeping spot, as the thrift store air mattress deflated upon laying on it. Luckily my folks have a nice RV, and that ended up being parked in the driveway for most of our visit. We had a ton of laughs that weekend, and that is what stands out the most.

We werealso blessed to have a caravan of Sam’s family make the long trek up from northern Florida. We had a house full, and at times, an absurdity of driving and hashing out plan logistics, but it was a great week. Having so many family members in our house really touched my wife’s heart, as it did mine. We probably drank way too much, and slept way too little, but again…it’s the laughs and adventures that stand out the most, and we will all remember them for years to come.

Our summer was filled to the brim with Detroit Tigers games (a wonderful Suite-Up invitation), a once in a lifetime opportunity to be on the grass for batting practice at Comerica Park, numerous walks around the lake with my wife and dogs, a concert with my sister and niece, a trip to the zoo with my dear friend and her kids, boating with my brother and his wife, a great picnic reunion with one side of my family (more drinking and laughter), farmer’s markets, water slides, kayaking, and wonderful evening strolls in various downtown venues. Our short little season included more events and moments than I recall, or possibly include in this short blog.

Ours was a summer of visits; whether friends or family. In parts, the visits were exhausting, but more parts were memorable. After all it’s not the sleep we remember years later, it’s the people and the time spent together.

And even though I’m anxious for the arrival of my favorite season, fall, I keep in mind…

Summer lovin, had me a blast, summer lovin, happened so fast…

Don’t Go Judging Lady Gaga

The problem with quick judgment is Lady Gaga. I say that because, back a couple of years ago when Lady Gaga first burst onto the scene in tar, feathers, and metal spikes, I jumped to judgment. And when she arrived at the Grammy’s in an egg, making a typical artistic statement of overwhelming proportions, I jumped to judgment. “She is a whack job. What a crazy attention seeker.” On and on I felt and went.

Now, don’t get me wrong, it’s really not my style to dress, or enjoy dress, the way Lady Gaga defines it. But nonetheless, my quick judgment almost led me astray, missing out on some kick-ass tunes. Sure, Lady Gaga still very well might be a whack job and attention seeker, but she’s also a pretty interesting and electrifying singer. And in the end, even if I listened and decided she wasn’t my speed, it’s important to at least listen before judging.

In the end, Lady Gaga is a singer, an entertainer. And as a singer, she’s pretty darn good. I find most of her music to be, at the bare minimum, rather enjoyable listening material. It’s probably matters very little what outlandish wrapping she presents herself in, or which shades of velvet she paints on her face.

I realize that it’s a pretty big leap from Lady Gaga to other people or subjects I encounter. But just the same, quick knee reaction judgment is still quick knee reaction judgment.

Judgment; it’s big with “us.” It’s a societal norm, and I’m fairly certain we weren’t born THAT way.

Don’t get me wrong, we need some judgment. We judge behaviors, actions, and results on a daily basis. And we should. Breaking into my neighbors’ house and stealing his belongings is a wrong behavior. And I’m making a judgment call in defining it as such. As a society and as human beings, we develop and share and live together with “accepted” judgment. I don’t think civilization will ever really exist without it. Nor should it, really…

It’s a balancing act.

I challenge myself daily to explore my judgments and assess if they are based on appropriate expectations. And it’s also important to distinguish judgment from preference. I may prefer a singer like Lady Gaga to Jay-Z, and that doesn’t necessarily define me as being “judgmental” against Jay-Z. I simply prefer Lady Gaga.

Where does that balance belong?

Where is the acceptable line of judgment? Where does preference blur into judgment?

As a gay person in a society that is still unraveling its homophobic tendencies, I’m all too familiar with judgment; and quick judgment at that. Some people have predetermined that who I am, and who I marry, is sinful or less than. They place judgment on an aspect of my life, and thus think of or treat me differently, or separately. The truth is, however, with many people I have met over the years who may not have liked or understood my sexuality initially, once they looked beyond their knee jerk judgment and based their assessment of me on the core of my being, their judgment often faded away.

It seems the idea of judgment is very complex. It’s certainly not a black and white subject with an easy and clear answer. But it does seem, more than not, that judgment is fear based. Even if we judge something as bad, and it “truly” is such, our judgment even if rightfully so, stems from fear.

And sometimes fear is good; fear can warn us of danger. But, it’s doubtful that Lady Gaga is really all that dangerous, nor is a loud mouth fan of another sports team, nor is the relationship between me and my wife.

So, where I actually embrace appropriate judgment required in daily living, I encourage myself to look closely at the things I judge and make sure my judgment is warranted. In the end, I might be more saddened by the things I miss in life, than the things I avoid. That approach may not be living on the “Edge of Glory”, but it is an approach that may broaden my world with some very fun tunes.

An Open Letter to America, from this Gay Lady

Interesting timing, as I finished this letter before President Barack Obama made his historic declaration regarding same-sex marriage.  Now, a declaration of support is a long way from enacting laws that provide rights, but just the same, it’s a huge step.  The first, hopefully, of many.  On to my letter…

This is not a break up letter, or a Dear John letter.  You don’t leave the things you love that easily.  But, when someone or something you love mistreats you, you stand up against it.  You make your voice heard.  You demand better.

You don’t leave.  Lovers, fighters, Americans don’t divorce things that easily.  You stay, you fight, and you make it work.  It’s the American way. Isn’t it?

I’ve heard throughout the years, after numerous discriminating votes, abusive phrases like “if you don’t like it, leave it,” and “America has spoken.”  In honest and real terms, those phrases mean “suck up the mistreatment, and accept the crumbs you receive.”

Is that what America really is?  Is America really about sucking up “less than” treatment?  The America I read about in history books and watched on film is a place envisioned to be a safe haven for the “others”.  America is a place that a majority would never override the rights of the minority.  That is America’s safe haven ideal.  That’s what we should be.

But that’s not what we really have become.  It’s not what we have been, throughout many grand failures.  The horrendous missteps over generations, from racial discrimination to female discrimination; America’s track record isn’t as enlightened as we would like to think.

But the ideal, at the core of our beliefs, is that America is a place of inclusion rather than exclusion.  For a place to really be inclusive it should be such to a diverse range of people, not just a select comfortable few; otherwise the inclusive verbiage just doesn’t fit the behavior.

I’m an American.  I’m a woman.  And I’m gay.  I’m a gay American.  I’m not sure if I call myself proud to be gay, as it’s just something I happen to be.  I’m proud that I’m open and honest about being gay, that is for sure.  And I’m happy to be gay.  Being gay has led me to my wife.  And it’s led me to being a more compassionate person who appreciates inclusion from others.  I don’t overlook the important role that inclusion has in my life; and the role it plays in most lives.    And I use it when I cultivate friendships with people of varying backgrounds and beliefs.  Because of inclusive behavior, my life is richer in its totality.

I’m a good person.  I care about people. And I not only care about others, I do things to make sure others know that I care about them.  And that’s rare these days.  These days, people spend more time trying to convey a message about themselves, rather than convey a concerning message towards someone else.  It’s an epidemic.  And unlike love between committed adults, any committed adults, the epidemic of “lacking concern for others” is a moral issue.  Instead of isolating select love as a “moral crisis,” perhaps America can isolate the lack of love for others as the bigger concern.

But, I digress…

Back to you, America….

I’ve been with you since the day I was born; 1974, Southfield, Michigan.  And let’s be clear from the start, I appreciate the relationship we have had for all of those nearly 38 years.  I realize that as an American my life has come with advantages that others around the world could really only dream of having.  I’ve been raised in a country that for most of my years has been a beacon to the rest of the world; and you can’t really underestimate how satisfying it feels to be admired for positive traits.  America is a bit boastful, and has often had reasons to boast; charitable citizens, helpful to others around the world, wealth that has led to greater standards of life, and a true melting pot of religious, ethnic, and cultural ingredients.  America the beautiful!

My Mom once told me that she thought I was one of the most patriotic people she knew.  I’m not sure how she came to that determination, but I took it as a compliment, and still take it as such today.  I am patriotic.  I love my country.  I love it in a way that you love a parent, or a child.  We are tied, eternally, to our families.  We see flaws in our families, and bicker with our families.  We also strive for “better” with various family members.  Family is one of the greatest rewards in life, and its relationships are also some of the toughest roads to travel.  Family; it’s like love of country.  It’s at the core of our beings and very central in our lives.

I love America.

I’m a gay American.

And I’m not leaving.

I’m standing here and demanding what I deserve; equal and fair treatment.  I know, without hesitation, that history will stand on the side of fairness and equality.

Decades ago, people fought about racial injustice.  Decades ago, people fought about inter-religious marriage, and inter-racial marriage.  Most of these injustices were based on fear, coupled with selective and hypocritical religious judgment.  Such judgment completely misses the boat on the separation of church and state; a corner stone to American society.  But the judgment goes further than that.  The judgment challenges the core of the American ideal; inclusion.  The judgment allows a powerful majority to disperse unfair treatment to a powerless minority.

The judgment is not a gay issue, it’s an American issue.  Americans should be livid.  Americans should be appalled.  All Americans, gay or not, should demand better.

For the life of me, I’ll never understand the fear and/or hatred towards gay people.  But, the truth is, I don’t really need to understand it.  People are allowed their own feelings and beliefs.   What I don’t understand is how our country continues to do this dance with inequality, one minority group at a time.  This argument, honestly, seems so “last century.”  In a world of wars, of disease, of poverty, and hunger, are we really fighting about two adults committing to love one another?  Are we really fighting about gay marriage?  Seriously, America, come on….

I could share cliché thought after cliché thought, like:  “if my gay marriage negatively affects your marriage than it says something about the quality of your marriage.”  But, I won’t go there.  That’s obvious.  I could ask discriminating heterosexuals to tell me, exactly, why their relationship is superior to mine, but I won’t go there, either.  That is nonsense.  It’s crazy talk.  We are having a nonsensical crazy family argument at the Thanksgiving Day table; this is that drunk holiday conversation that will only go in circles.  It’s pure lunacy!  And it’s time those on the side of equality starting calling it such; lunacy!

I’m blessed to have many heterosexual friends and family in my life that “get it.”  At times I have thanked some of them for their inclusive nature and unbridled support.  And often the response I have received has been “of course. “  And, “don’t thank me for being or doing or saying what is right.”  It’s funny, as a minority, I am ultra “appreciative” of the people in my life that actually do what I would expect them to do; what I would do for them.  But, the demand for equality takes more than gay people.  That’s what I recognize and that is why I’m ultra-appreciative.  It takes everyone.  Gays can’t do it alone.

Back in the early days of the civil rights movement, it took more than African Americans to demand equality.  It took many Americans to do what is expected of all Americans; stand for justice and stand for equality.

I use to say that we need to “fight” for equality.  But that sounds combative and that sounds like one side wins and the other side loses.  There should be no sides here.  I prefer to demand equality.  Like any relationship in my life, my relationship with my country has its challenges.  But, I won’t hide from those challenges and I won’t divorce myself from this lifelong relationship.  I’m demanding the treatment I deserve and I won’t stop demanding it until it’s received.  And even then, like a nagging wife, I’ll continue to demand the treatment I know…I KNOW…I deserve!  That everyone deserves….

With eternal love and hopefulness…

 

Constant Craving, for “Stuff”…

I have to admit, and I do so without any shame; I love food.  I love to cook it, bake it, you name it.  I also love to eat it.  If a Genie came to my house and offered me 3 wishes one would inevitably be “calories will no longer make you fat.”  That wish would obviously come after ending world hunger, solving all of the hatred in the world, and a Lions Super Bowl championship.  Oh wait, that’s 4 wishes.  I digress…

I love food.  I crave food.  And I’m sure I’m not alone.

And though too much food, or bad food, can lead to a great deal of unhealthiness, we need food.

What I often liken in our society to food is “stuff.”  By stuff I mean material goods.  I mean all that “stuff” that we forward past seeing during 2 minute television interruptions.

The Fitbit I have clipped to my waistband.

The iPhone 4S sitting next to me.

The many laptops spread around the house, the toys in the garage, and the boxes of old CDs, or videos in closets and nooks where we shove them.

Stuff.

It’s our national pastime, and our extra chewy dark fudge brownie with 3 scoops that we will never cut out of our unhealthy living and spending diet.

Stuff.

Material goods and food: fraternal twins in our social experiment in craving.

In Buddhism, one is taught that when you crave now, you suffer later.  In my favorite book that I reference quite frequently (It’s Easier Than You Think), the author believes that in fact when you crave now you suffer NOW.

There is essentially nothing wrong with “stuff.”  We need some things, and we enjoy other things.  “Stuff” has the ability to enhance our lives, or make our lives run a bit smoother.  All praise helpful or happy stuff.

The struggle, however, comes from that bottomless pit of craving that can never be filled.  I believe “stuff” has a very long term contract in place with that bottomless never satisfied pit.  Don’t you think?

With food, people typically have a taste for something, and then the craving passes.  Sometimes one eats the item of their craving to quench their desire, and sometimes the desire just passes with time.  Food is also typically a response of having an appetite, and hopefully appetites can be satisfied. Our hunger comes and goes, as we are never permanently full.  The same also seems true of our hunger for things.

One day our material desire might be the new video system everyone is talking about.  We think about it for weeks, we browse prices and sales for days, and sometimes we even wait in ridiculous lines to make a purchase.  We finally quench the thirst when we purchase the object of our desire.  We take it home and play with it.  We show it to visitors that come to the house.  We have fun with it and everything feels right with the world.  Then, we lose our interest.  The desire for “stuff”, although temporarily quenched by the new game, really only lay in hiding until Apple releases its latest iPhone update, or Macy’s announces an earth shattering sale on Gucci bags.

It’s a desire that is rarely satisfied for long, and a desire that although recognizable to most, is hard to combat in a world built upon desire.  Our society has built a foundation predicated on people always wanting “things.”

It’s all very confusing, as many people go to church or read books on fulfillment, enlightenment and the “truth” of happiness coming from within and not on external rewards.  Then we leave church or put down the book and are bombarded with television ads, twitter feeds, billboards, and the quest for the “American Dream,” which translates into bigger and better “stuff.”  How does it all add up?

I’d say my favorite quote, “the race is long and in the end it’s only with yourself,” but the truth is that where “things” are concerned there is no race.  There is just a bottomless pit of unending desire.

I think the key with “stuff,” as it truly is with food, is moderation.  Learning to approach material goods with the mindset of a healthy and wise eater is trans-formative.  It’s about understanding and acceptance. It’s not about filling a void, or putting a Band-Aid on boredom.  After all, today’s stuff is just tomorrow’s garage sale stuff.  “Oh,” I yawn…boring!

How I Met…Myself, Episode 1

Just recently I jumped on the “How I Met Your Mother” train.  Up until about a month ago, I never watched the show.  Thanks to Netflix streaming and the new Roku in my work-out room, I’m catching up on a rather fun loving and sweet show.  The show is certainly not earth shattering, but it’s slightly humorous and light hearted fun.

It makes no sense that a father would be spending hours and hours, and days upon days telling his children 100’s of stories on how he met their mother, but belief suspended, I love the idea of passing on stories or life’s antidotes to those who come after us.

We don’t have children yet, and I’m not sure if we ever will.  Our doggies are children to me, but it’s sort of challenging to impart too much so called “wisdom” on them.  For the sake of this blog, I’ll go with the notion that I am or will be a Mom.

And in the role of Mom, I dispense my own “How I met…Myself” moments of insight…

EPISODE 1

It was many years ago and I was helping my brother-in-law coach my two nieces’ soccer team.  The girls were in Elementary school at the time, so I use the word “coach” very loosely.  We ran some drills, and we showed up on game days to urge the girls to action.  One would have thought I was on the sideline of World Cup Soccer games due to the quickness of my pace up and down the sideline and the excitement in my voice as I blurted out instructions that typically went in and immediately out of little ears.

They were short seasons, and short games.  But, the experience was a reminder of many things to me, and I have to be honest in saying, I miss it a bit.

My brother-in-law and I would blurt out instructions and advice on a continuous basis, all while parents on the opposite side of the field did more of the same.  I’m sure on the field, to the kids, it all sounded like irrelevant gibberish.  Half the time, it was a battle just making sure kids were standing up on the grass and not sitting down playing with it.  So, the adults were obviously taking the game much more serious than the second graders.

Regardless of the minimal importance of it all on a competitive setting, I did enjoy the encouraging nature of coaching.  There was one moment in those couple of years of coaching that sticks out to me most.  Well, there are many moments, but one that still warms the cockles of my sometimes cynical heart.

PUT ME IN COACH

There was a young girl on the team that was certainly one of the better athletes.  In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised to hear she’s playing in high school now.  She was one of the few that really grasped the concept of the game, and she had the talent to match her interest.  Usually we barked out guidance to the kids only to receive blank stares in return.  On this day, our young star actually heard my guidance on the sideline, and went back into the field taking the approach I suggested.  Not only did she listen to me, and hear me…she actually went back into the game and took action.  She didn’t seem fazed by the positive results of listening to my direction, but I nearly passed out on the sideline as I watched.  My shock was less at the results, but more so in the fact that she took my lead.  And the bigger payout was how good it felt to see her do so well.  She ended up making a great play and charging down the field.  To be honest, I don’t even remember if she scored or not, I was just so thrilled to watch her doing so well.  It was a huge reminder to me then, and even know, that even when you least expect it, something can warm your heart.  I’m being honest in saying that watching her do so well, and knowing I had a hand in making it possible, actually felt better than if I had even done it myself.  It may not have been a Bo or Izzo moment, but it sure makes me smile even years later.

SHE WHO SEES HAIRY ARMS

On that same soccer team there was also a young girl that provided another reminder.  She was much less an athlete than our star pupil, above.  This girl was a bit awkward and out of shape and for whatever reason mostly enjoyed following me around and asking inane questions.  Although sometimes tiring and often frustrating, she wasn’t a bad kid; mainly a handful.  She questioned everything, and at its core, I don’t have a huge issue with that; she was obviously interested.  But, what she also questioned, were the things I’m sure most of us have experienced a time or two; she seemed to ask embarrassing question after embarrassing question about me.

I have a dark complexion and am a dark haired young woman. Yes, I still say, “young woman.”  Having that type of complexion also means, at least for me, that my body is certainly not hair free.  I have, relatively, hairy arms (at least for a female).  This was a cross to bear as a child, but nothing that brings me any anxiety as a grown up.  There is something about kids, though; they see all of these social imperfections like candy in the desert.

This rather out of shape and inquisitive little one spotted my arms, and spotted my hair.  And I’m sure she worried that I was unaware of the situation.  Without a single look of worry to insult, she came right up to me asking “why do you have so much hair on your arms?”  And, as luck would have it, she didn’t take me to the sideline and whisper it into my ear, but rather asked it loudly in the middle of the field while I explained a soccer drill to a group of players.  I really don’t’ remember how I responded, or how the other kids responded, but to this day I remember her asking me that silly but honest question.  I chuckled a bit about it that day, as I drove home, and I actually chuckle now.  It’s a reminder to me that filters are a good thing.  And though I sometimes look back on childhood with nostalgia for the magic time of wonder, I’m rather glad that years have brought me filters.  Of course, the filters break from time to time, namely during sports events, but I own them, nonetheless.

Filters are good, and some humility and forgiveness for those that lack filters, is even better.

SURVIVING VALENTINE’S DAY

Valentine’s Day is one of those “holidays” that asks people to draw a line in the sand.  We saw it on Facebook.  We saw it on Twitter.  We often see it when we shop through stores, listen to the radio, or meander in our communities.  Are you all about Cupid, or are you moving the Grinch into February discussion?

There seems to be little middle of the road dwelling for Valentine’s Day.

Facebook contained many postings of gooey sweet romantic gifts, fun romantic activities, and similar pictures of flowers and candy.  Facebook also contained status updates of irritation or skepticism over a holiday seemingly developed by a card maker or an industry propagating the need to spend unnecessary money to prove devotion to ones mate.

VALENTINE’S DAY MEANS IT ALL

From where I see it, all of the above is true.  Valentine’s Day is in part a fabricated day that has been blow into excessive proportions.  Valentine’s Day celebrates a loving spirit that really should be demonstrated every day of every year.  Valentine’s Day tends to sometimes put undue pressure on people to make adequate gestures to their love.  There is much to be irritated about.  There is reason for skepticism.

On the flip side, I can’t help but smile a bit for a day that celebrates love.  I can’t help but smile at a day that is about flowers, and candy, and hearts…and romance.  And Valentine’s Day isn’t really just about romance; I have received Valentine’s Day cards from my folks since I was a kid.  Valentine’s Day is about the special peeps in our lives that add to the texture of our hearts.

Valentine’s Day isn’t a day that we shouldn’t celebrate.  It’s a day we should multiply and celebrate even more.  But really, it’s less about how much I spend on my wife, or if I get a card in the mail for each of my parental units, or close loving family members.  For me, it’s about remembering, embracing and appreciating the love in my life.

Appreciation goes a long way….

EXPRESS YOURSELF

Valentine’s Day is just another opportunity to express love and appreciation.  Instead of growing up past the small index sized cards that we gave out on Valentine’s Day in Elementary school, perhaps we should think more about giving out those sentiments routinely.

TO EACH OF YOU, I SAY

You’re Special

You Rock

Be Mine

Tweet Me

Sweet Love

Cutie Pie

Call Me

Dream

Be Good

So Fine

Awesome

Smile

HEY HEY VALENTINE’S DAY

More than anything, there is always room in my heart for special friends and family member Valentines.  Though my wife is my # 1 Valentine, there is always room for others.  So, I leave you , the day after Valentine’s Day, asking this…

Won’t you be another one of my precious Valentines?

Super Bowl, Super Differences, Super American

The Super Bowl proves to me something I have long since suspected; people see what they want to see.

Was Super Bowl 46 a good game or a bad game?  Was it exciting or boring?  It’s amazing to hear every answer on the spectrum of options to these questions, depending on the responder.  We are all talking about the same game, but we all have very different opinions about it.

SUPER BOWL TEASERS

In recent years, Super Bowl commercials have become almost as big as the game.  We anticipate them leading up to the game, and we instantly judge them as they occur.  We discuss them afterwards via popularity polls, surveys and articles and everyone picks their own winner of the “who won the commercial bowl.’  It reminds me quite a bit of political debates; more spin after the fact than concrete and new information during the event.  Which commercial stirred a laugh, or provided goose bumps moments depends upon who you ask.

CLINT INSPIRES SOME, ANNOYS OTHERS

The Clint Eastwood ad for Chrysler; message needed and message received?  Is the bit old?  Is Clint too old?  I have heard and read everything from inspiring to annoying in response to the ad.  It’s amazing to hear and see such widely varying emotional responses to the same two minute spot.  Since the Eastwood ad hits home for me and so many in the area I live, this topic deserves its own blog (and it will receive one).

HALFTIME SCHMAFTIME

Nothing in relation to the Super Bowl is more debated and oddly hyped than the Halftime show.  No matter the entertainer selected to perform there is a large and vocal group that opposes the selection.  And in the rare times that a selection is widely applauded, reviews of the halftime show range from irritating to down-right ridiculous.  I often wonder if people realize this is a HALFTIME SHOW….and yes, I’m yelling that.  It’s a HALFTIME SHOW; a few minutes between halves of a FOOTBALL GAME.   Madonna is fine.  Her show was fine.  Most of the performances during the halftime shows in recent years have been fine.  I mean, get over it already.  This is ridiculous.  It’s a few minute FREE show during the middle of a sporting event.  It’s never going to please everyone, there will always be complaints, and there will always be ridiculous conversation over something that is just pointless and meaningless.  Let me make sure you know this:  You don’t have to watch.  My word!  Nothing irritates me more than irrational irritation over this stupid freaking halftime show.  MOVE ON!

DOES THE BEST TEAM WIN?

This is something that most sports fans talk about in great depth, in most big games.  Very often a team with a lesser record, or potentially less obvious talent, beats the “better” team.  I never really like the idea of who “deserves” the win more; are we talking about a divine and karmic deserving?  Does effort equate to deserving?  Does talent equate to deserving?  It’s a hollow and an odd spin to make following a game, and one that certainly depends solely on the view of the observer.

BUILD A WINNER

I have long held the belief that when it comes to building a team the focus should be solely on simply making the playoffs.  I said that before the Detroit Tigers started last season.  And I say it time and time again as I watch all sports.  If a team overly focuses on putting together the most talent to win a championship it seems that push nudges a team too far.  Talent wins championships.  So does effort.  So does luck.  You need an odd mix of ingredients to win it all, and in my honest opinion, you can’t actually define all of the ingredients.  More than not, there is a weird magic to a winning season that usually includes getting hot at the right time, and having the ball “bounce your way” a time or two.  We have seen it recently with the New York Giants, with the Green Bay Packers last year, with the San Francisco Giants a couple years ago, or with the St. Louis Cardinals last year.  None of these winners were picked to win championships.  And few of them were favored going into their championship game or series.  They were teams that hung around long enough, got hot at the right time, and had a few key things go their way.  Those truths don’t take away from their championship; just the opposite, they help to define them.  It is what it is.

But the better team?  The move deserving team?  The more exciting team?  Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.  And for every opinion on one side of an argument, there is an equally loud and grating argument on the other side.

ARE THE LIONS LITTLE GIANTS?

The bigger part of the discussion for me is “what does this mean for my Detroit Lions?”  Again, it depends on the view point of the answer.  In one breath the Giants victory gives me hope that the Lions aren’t far away from making a Super Bowl and like the Giants they can “get hot at the right time, and ride the arm of a good QB.”  It seems more probable that the Lions can win without a strong running game, or potentially a strong secondary.  It all seems possible.

On the flip side, it seems the NFC has taken back some mojo from the previously dominating AFC.  It was just a few years ago that all of the top teams in the NFL resided in that conference.  But now, there are the Giants, the Packers, the 49ers, the Saints, and the Falcons.  And that list doesn’t even account for teams like the Cowboys and the Bears that could easily bump themselves into the discussion.  The NFC is a strong conference with many great QBs.  The Lions have the unfortunate luck of finally improving within a division that houses Aaron Rodgers and the very potent Green Bay Packers.  The Lions have the unfortunate luck of finally improving within a conference that is finally rising from the ashes.  It’s all about timing, and right now it seems that timing isn’t favoring my Leos.  But again, it’s all about perspective and all about who you ask.

HOW IS THE VIEW FROM OVER THERE?

People see what they want to see.  Foul or no foul?  The answer likely depends on the rooting interest of the viewer.  Was it a good game or a bad game, were the commercials up to par, did Madonna bring it?  It depends on who you ask, and I guarantee if you ask 10 people, you will receive 10 very unique responses.  The Super Bowl is about football.  The Super Bowl is about snacks.  The Super Bowl is about a massive cultural event that transcends the event itself.  It is the ultimate summation of our society, and a reflection of “who we are”, warts and all.  The Super Bowl is grand.  It has ego and involves heroes.  It has winners and losers.  It’s about capitalism and social media.   It’s about hype and over analysis.  It’s America being America.  We watch it together.  We all see it, differently, together.  It is more dressing than it is meat, but the flavors are unique to each of our own taste buds.  It’s the most super of all sporting events because we have made it so.  It is just more proof, as Clint Eastwood said, that we want the world to hear our engines roar.

Living for a little Magic

People talk about magic.  People ask for it, and seek it out.  People fear it, and avoid those that may seem too uncomfortably magical.  The greatness and fear both lay in the mystery of magic; of something being magical.

In the end, I think all any of us ever really want is to experience some magic; the magical shot that makes its way through the basket as the buzzer goes off, the magical moment on a beach, where even if briefly, there is clarity in our view, that once in a lifetime meeting with someone that sets life on a new course, or the moment that your child comes into the world.

There is mystery to greatness and to luck.  There is mystery to gaining understanding and awareness.  There is mystery to love and the unspoken and unseen that we feel in connection with our “other.”  And there is certainly mystery to life, and the creation of new life.

Magic is mystery.  And what an interesting twist that we are all seeking more mystery.  It confuses us as much as it intrigues us, and we can’t get enough.  And why would we want to, anyway?

We think we want to know, but what we want is more of the unknown.  We want more moments that confirm the mysterious and magical in life.

The first time I met my wife in person, I’m confident it was magic.  I’ve never had a single moment like it before or sense.  When we met and hugged and I garnered the courage to look into her eyes; it was insanely mysterious.  It was a feeling of something new and exciting, coupled with an odd sense of knowing.   It was the most surreal moment of my life and I can’t really explain it.  But, it’s part of the reason with all the ups and downs, and all the ways we are very different, that I know I’m home; we have magic.

The first time I saw child birth, when my sister gave birth to her first daughter, I was blown away.  Obviously new life can do that to a person.  Though cheesy, the truth is, I can’t really find words to encapsulate the feelings in those moments.  The feeling was mind blowing in ways indescribable.  It was an unreal meeting of the mind and the heart.  The feelings were a bit uniquely mysterious actually; just more magic.

And believe it or not, when I held my grandma’s hand when she died, it too was mysterious.  The feeling was mysterious.  It was unlike any other I had previously experienced.  She wasn’t the first person I lost, nor the last, but feeling her last heart beats and hearing her last breaths left me feeling a new curiosity towards life, and after life, and how fragile it all really can be.  The magnitude of death and the force it has on all of us makes it a big magical in my eyes.  Even if not in the magical ways we hope for, at times, there can be peace in death, and that peace is almost more magical than anything.

One of the highlights of my life was attending the 2006 ALCS clinching game 4 at Comerica Park.  It’s the infamous and historical game in which Magglio Ordonez hit a 3-run Home Run in the bottom of the 9th inning to send the Detroit Tigers to the World Series.  Yes, I was there.  So was Sam.  So were my Step Dad and my Uncle.  So was my Brother-in-law.  The season itself was chalked full of magical moments along the way; pitching gems, clutch hits, and epic walk-off victories.   The series before saw the Tigers beat the New York Yankees, a feat no one saw coming.  The days, hours, and moments leading up to Game 4 were intense.  But, in the moment that Magglio’s bat connected with the ball, there was a sense of euphoria that erupted from the crowd.  Without thinking or hesitation, I leaped onto the back of the chair in front of me and was literally jumping up and down on it, while tears streamed down my cheek.  No joke!  Strangers become family, in an instant.  We hugged people in the stadium, and we hugged people on the street.  We high fived everyone along the walk back to our car.  And in the months that followed, I watched the clip of Magglio’s swing over and over.  I still tear up when I see it or hear it.  It was epic.   It was glorious.  And it was fucking magical in a way few things ever will be; unexpected shared pure joy.  Nothing is better.

The magical moments are endless:  From the first time I actually dropped a ski and made a go of slalom water skiing, to my first visit to the Grand Canyon, or my first Gay Pride Festival in Santa Barbara.  The Grand Canyon gave me goose bumps like few places, and a powerful sense of “awe,” while my first Pride provided a feeling of comfortable belonging.  All those experiences stick in my mind, and all have provided me with mysterious and overwhelming feelings of “one thing or another.”  There is magic to feelings, as they are more mysterious than words ever could be.

Walking into the Big House, standing at the Pacific Ocean, witnessing a glorious sunrise or sunset; magic, magic, magic.

And the day I watched America select its African American President; that was magical.  It’s not so much a political party magic here, as I know this is a partisan example.  But, in my life, I must have said a hundred times “this country will never elect a Black president.”  To live to see our country elect a President regardless of race was unbelievable.  I felt magic on that election night as my wife and I cheered in our living room, and fireworks went off in our neighborhood.  I actually cried.  And not because I loved Barack Obama, but rather, out of a deep sense of amazement of what I witnessed.  Whether it lasted a day, a month, or a year, there was magic in that election night.  It was historic.  It was moving.  It was a supernatural force of epic change.  Maybe not change in the policies people of any party want, but change in the quilt of our American story.

A country, a community, a marriage, a family; all need a little magic.  It happens every day and on every corner.  Hopefully we are aware enough to notice, and open enough to conjure a bit more.

Stuck On You: Reliving School Dances & Denouncing the Adult Funk

It really is amazing what comes to mind when listening to music; especially older music that conjures years long ago in your life.

As I was working earlier in the week, I did so with my iPhone music application in full shuffle mode.  One minute Eminem switched on, and the next minute Lady Gaga.  That experience really is both religious and narcotic in nature.  My mind did an energetic two-step, leaving me with the urge to flash faux gang signs, followed by the desire to go dance with drag queens moments later.  That’s epic ;)

It was late in the afternoon that my shuffle mode led me to Lionel Richie.  Yes, I realize this is not cool, or hip, and probably dates me.  But, so be it.  I love me some Lionel.  He shuffled into my ear buds with an old favorite; Stuck on You.

Within the flash of a lyric, my mind instantly transported me back to a middle school dance.  There I stood, in the middle of the gym; slow dancing with a boy I probably liked but never really talked to very much.  There I stood, with my arms straight out in front of me, resting on his shoulders.  And his hands rested gently on my hips.

What I remember most about our school dances was the anticipation.  I was excited days before the dance, and remember fidgeting all day long on dance days.  The event felt huge, and exciting, and in the world of a middle school girl, it felt magical.

And as a look back, it actually was.  To think that standing around a gym, listening to music, and every once and a while slow dancing awkwardly with a mostly stranger created such anticipation; that is magic.

That is youth.

Youth is magic.

GROW UP TO BE A KID

Now that I think of it, I suggest school dances as the prescription to adult funk.  And by funk, I don’t mean awkward and ugly white people dancing to disco music.  I mean the “adult who has lost their youthful magic” funk.

You know what I’m talking about.

The inability to slightly groove in the mall when a kick-ass song comes on.

The inability to express excitement, not at mundane things, but at actual events most people would die to take part in.

The inability to look out the window at the horizon and browse for something to jump into.

The inability to eat something that tastes or smells horrifically bad, and laugh so hard that you want to do it all again.  And you do…

The adult funk consists of loss of excitement or anticipation for the barrage of things considered mundane.  In the end, the mundane might actually be exquisite.

If it was up to me, we would all partake in school dances; whether 10 or 80 years old.  And though the thought of an old “dirty-bird man” loose in a gymnasium might creep me out, all dances would be age appropriate; young bucks with young bucks, and seasoned vets paired up.

We should all experience, time and time again, the excitement of waking up on a Friday morning with excitement over the dance that night. And, waking up the next morning, glowing in the after math of “dancing” to Toto or Britney.

I think the absence of school dances is what leads so many young women to focus so much on that prized wedding day.  Yes, I’m sure people want to be married, but I often think the anticipation of something exciting and magical trumps everything else.  The resolution to this: more dances!

Ren McCormack said it best in a true gem of my generation, Footloose, when me argued “….and there is a time to dance…”  Amen, brother, amen!

The add on to Ren’s famously heart felt plea is that there isn’t just one time in our lives, our youth, to dance.  There is always a time to dance.  And anytime, everyday, is another promising opportunity to experience something magical.

Busta move, peeps, busta move…

 

Christmas & Camping – Cheer All Year Long

Something interesting happens around the holiday season.

No, not the madhouse driving, or brawls in department stores over a new line of athletic shoes.

HOLIDAY SPIRIT

The holiday season brings out a bit of magic.  Some of us call it “Christmas spirit.”  Regardless of anyone religious celebration, typically the season consists of lights, decorations, gift giving, lots of food, charity, and time with friends and family.  It’s a time of celebration.  It’s a time when most of us typically feel a bit more charitable towards the other people who share the planet with us.

That little bit of magic often extends into our New Year’s celebration.  We feel a since of renewal, and we share good tidings for a good new year.  Many people set, and tell others about, resolutions for the New Year; which are almost always a personal promise to do better in one way or another.  I’ve yet to hear someone with a resolution to be more selfish or crabbier, even though it often ends up being the final result.

Just the same, we leap into the holidays and the New Year with joy, glee, and warmth in our heart.

Somewhere, as we roll past the holidays, we also leave our good tidings and cheer along the roadside.  Why is that?  Why is it that during one select point in time we all fill with genuine awe for life, and for the world around us?  Does it really take such a huge and all-encompassing reminder for most of us to have and spread good tidings?

Can’t we possess the holiday spirit all year long?

LIKE A BEAR IN THE WOODS

I liken the holiday vibe to camping.

I’ve always been perplexed how most of us inherit a temporarily new and trusting view of the world when in the woods.  My current home with my wife consists of all the doors having double locks, and an entire alarm system enshrining the house.  My wife, that silly little bugger, even locks her car doors, with the car inside our closed and locked garage. It’s quite endearing, actually ;)

But, what do we fear?  And why, once we head into the woods, does the fear dissipate?

When one camps, typically it’s done in a tent.  In a small enclosed room made of fabric that has no locks and no place to hide from an intruder.  And how is it that people never, or rarely, steal at a camp ground?  I’ve camped many times in my life.  I’ve gone for hikes and left things in my tent.  I’ve gone to sleep, often with camping equipment left right outside my tent.  Is it a matter of only honest and trustworthy people camp? And if so, how come the “bad people,” the “stealers” haven’t caught wind of this?

I think it’s more a product of our environment.  Somehow, we have all just made a pact.  We have an unspoken oath agreed upon when entering into the woods or a campground.  Respect my things, I’ll respect yours.  Don’t harm me, and I won’t harm you.

Seems like an oath we should all take outside of the woods, as well, no?

The holidays are equally a product of our environment.  There is an unspoken oath that we agree upon to spread cheer freely.  Each year, when the New Years ball drops, we wash away the year prior, and stand hopeful with each other that the next year will be “so much better.” Of course, that shared hopefulness often lasts a day or two, but it’s there in unison.   Even if temporary, there is unison….

CAPABLE OF SO MUCH MORE

So, it’s not that any of us are incapable of good cheer to others.  It’s not that any of us are incapable of respecting each other.  I shouldn’t feel unsafe in our world, whether in my own locked down home, or inside a tent out in BFE.  I’m capable of more.  As a human race, we are capable of more.  It’s all about choice, and before any choice, it’s imperative to know the options; good cheer or grumpy, respect or disrespect.  We are capable of any of the options, but what do we choose?

I know, I know.  I’m so naive.

Believe me when I say, I’m aware of the challenges in our society, and I’m fairly familiar with pain.  I just happen to believe I’m capable of contributing good cheer and respect to others, regardless of my pain or fears.  I’m capable of bringing Christmas to July, and a feeling a safety from the woods to my front door.  I’m capable.  And I’m confident I’m not the only one.

A continued Merry Christmas to you all.  A continued Happy New Year to you all.  And, happy camping!