Five foot two, one hundred and twenty five pounds. Middle linebacker!! Has to have been the smallest middle linebacker in the history of mankind as a freshman in high school.
Before that it was climb anything I could find, ski things I had no right to ski. Later it was football, lacrosse, boxing. Too small, too slow. Next up it was 200 miles on two wheels in one day. No idea what I was doing, but it had to be done.
I have always been afraid, but never of a challenge, never of putting my body on the line. If my life depended on it, or more importantly my sisters' lives, my family, my friends, I would do anything, to this day. I would buckle up the helmet tomorrow and run someone over, it would probably kill me, or at least leave my body in a heap, but I would do it.
I am afraid of everything now. I am afraid of just surviving, being free, not ever doing anything that matters before I die. I am afraid of dying, for the very first time in my life, before now it was not a possibility.
I need to try and find the guy that not that long ago broke out the "Snow Clown" for thousands of yards at a time, easily, gracefully, powerfully, just to make people smile, and because I could. I need to find the ability again to throw my body at whatever I want at 100 miles per hour.
This can't really be me!! I have to be inside this body somewhere!!
Thank you again for getting this far with me.
Monday, January 2, 2012
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Run for the Roses
It is now or never, or at least it seems that way. Time is moving faster and faster and standing still all at the same time. Life is one big paradox, an oxymoron and a constant contradiction in terms all jumble up in one. I am definitely lost, but I am making good time.
If there is ever going to be a time to recapture some of who I am, who I was, it better be now. There simply is no more time. I went from feeling young, acting young and having fun, to some extent, to feeling old, fat, tired and DONE.
Paint, write, take photos, eat well, exercise, and see what happens. I think that I have literally been saying "I will start tomorrow" for the last four years. The last time I exercised was four years ago tomorrow, which is not exactly true, but close. I went for a long run back from the practice field at the University of Texas at the end of that March, March 2008 I guess, and then started up again in August, injured my knee, and the rest , as they say is history.
I have a job I don't like, at all, but am good at. I fake it more now than ever in my life, and that has been for as long as I can remember. I saw a guy on 50 Minutes tonight climbing mountains and saw this wiry 165 pound dude and thought where did he go.
I may not ever be 165 pounds again, and I may not even ever be able to ski and hike and feel young and strong and good again, but perhaps it is "don't go down without a fight" time.
Thank you again for getting this far with me.
If there is ever going to be a time to recapture some of who I am, who I was, it better be now. There simply is no more time. I went from feeling young, acting young and having fun, to some extent, to feeling old, fat, tired and DONE.
Paint, write, take photos, eat well, exercise, and see what happens. I think that I have literally been saying "I will start tomorrow" for the last four years. The last time I exercised was four years ago tomorrow, which is not exactly true, but close. I went for a long run back from the practice field at the University of Texas at the end of that March, March 2008 I guess, and then started up again in August, injured my knee, and the rest , as they say is history.
I have a job I don't like, at all, but am good at. I fake it more now than ever in my life, and that has been for as long as I can remember. I saw a guy on 50 Minutes tonight climbing mountains and saw this wiry 165 pound dude and thought where did he go.
I may not ever be 165 pounds again, and I may not even ever be able to ski and hike and feel young and strong and good again, but perhaps it is "don't go down without a fight" time.
Thank you again for getting this far with me.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
The Taylor Family Singers
Just recently having discovered that James and Carly had Ben and Sally, and that they are amazing singers, songwriters, human specimens, just decided that all of them plus Livingston need to be in one place at one time!!
Friday, December 9, 2011
Three Thirds
I woke from a sound sleep screaming as if I had witnessed the most heinous of crimes. I was inconsolable, tears streaming down my cheeks. A call was made and an hour or two later I was home in my own bed asleep. Foreshadowing at its best, if only a four year old could understand.
I got off the chair, took an immediate left, turned the corner and I was gone. Nothing was going to get in my way, not even the full grown man in front of me barely crawling forward in the snowplow of all snowplows. What else could I have done?? What would anyone have done in my situation?? I leaned all the way back, sat on the tails of my skis and yelled something as I went through the mans legs and kept on cruising. As I arrived at the bottom, big grin on my face, I was greeted by the whole fam damily. Every one of them had a horrified look on their faces, a true look of concern. Why? Probably the blood that was all down my face and all over the front of my ski jacket as apparently the man's large backside had been to tough a foe for my tiny little six year old nose.
I was prone to arm crossing at the time. Had once halted a family trip, for a period of time at least, by standing by the ice machine of the motel we had stayed at outside of Gettysburg on the way to Disneyworld. Who on earth drives their entire family, grandparents included, from Vermont to Florida for a good time I have no idea!! Somehow this time I had been extremely convincing for seven or eight or nine and thus I did not have to stay with friends. I was a man, at least more so then than now, and thus the wood stoves, the fire place, and all was kept going. I fed myself, slept, and manned the house for a long weekend alone.
I jumped in the front seat of the truck, slid the arm to where the little red needle was on the capital R on the gauge. I slowly began to back up the very soft, temporary drive that ran between the sets of six condos. As the truck worked it's way up the slope in reverse I tried to monitor my progress using the side view mirrors the way I had been taught, but the truck moved to my right ever so slightly, moving into softer and softer packed gravel as I went. It was sudden and in slow motion all at the same time as the truck slid to the side of the last condo unit in the cluster to the right and made contact with the sheathing on the corner. I had to make it right, I had to fix it, I knew how to rock the truck back and fourth to free it from where it was stuck. It dug in further and further while peeling the corner of the condo apart splinter by splinter. Not all bad in a days work for a thirteen year old paid laborer. At least I was able to entertain the men.
I was home from prep school for the summer and the school where I had spent 5th and 6th grade, and where my sister had broken the ring I gave her, and her finger, all at the same time during PE, had to be remodeled by summers end, which for me was mid-August for pre-season of my senior year. All day long ripping out old insulation and old siding to make way for new. Racing up the mountain to change and get my run in on the gravel that made up most of the roads at home. Showering and changing, jumping in the car with my sister, and racing the 45 or 35 or 25 minutes to Waterbury Center to pick up the then love of my life and off to cause trouble, the highlight of which was the Vermont State Fair at the end of my time home, listening to Crystal Gale, riding rides, eating cotton candy and then driving, singing, our way back to Waterbury Center to say goodbye.
It's late fall in Rhode Island, or early winter in Vermont, and the phone rings. I need to come home for Thursday and Friday. The roof needs to get on by end of day Friday because snow is coming on the weekend. Two days spent humping lumber, slinging plywood onto the roof rafters, my work boots wedged between two rafters, lean over, grab the corners and sling the plywood into place, repeat. End of Friday and he looks at the "valley" between the dormer roof and the roof to note that the lines are off slightly. The men note that know one has a better eye. This is Sophomore year, and the beginning of the end.
The light at the end of the tunnel. Almost done. Almost an engineer, an "engineer in training" to be precise. Must have been Easter break. Home to see the family. Sitting in the study by the roll-top desk. He is leaving, leaving mom, leaving us, leaving me. The company is closed, finished, gone. Twenty two years of hard hats, construction, the smell of pipes, cigarettes, horse shoes at lunch time, nothing being good enough, everything needing to be perfect, so perfect it broke the company. Twenty two years, or I guess maybe eighteen, dreaming of my nice, shiny, new backhoe, bulldozer, bucket loader. High school years getting bigger, stronger, and more responsible. College years of studying Structures, Concrete, Materials Testing, Principles of Drafting, Soil Engineering, and the EIT exam, which was easy to be honest!! Gone!!
Early years of adulthood, practicing engineer, Deer Island, River Relocation Project. Caught myself going over the pilings head first headed to the river bed sixty feet below. Promised management. Asked to move back. Lost her, lost him, lost her. Roommates with my brother. Evicted by my brother, sort of, essentially. Lost track of right and wrong briefly. Probably too much shit for one time in life. Visiting once in a while and then not. Finally ran away to Killington, best thing I have ever done, at least to that moment. WHS next. Hardest and best moment I could have had with a couple dozen young athletes and dad, one goal short. Said no to WHS football. Got another "real" job, got my masters just 'cause. Chose Chicago to get away and try something new. Consumed by the big company, screwed by six years of love. Sent to Frito Lay Europe. Came home for the holidays. The wives said no so December 28th it was. There she was, or so I thought. back to Europe, moved to penthouse, furnished the penthouse, bought the ring, the dress, the Porsche. Oops.
Moved back, stuck around, took care, lost out on first shot, family first. Back to the fray. Trying hard to be something I am not. Faking it pretty well at Sony and Astra. Lost out again, fall guy. Up or out...out. Now what. What else, finally followed in Dad's footsteps. Better late than never?? More like too late but not never.
End of a long strange road. Nothing is as it was supposed to be. No one else's fault but my own?? Who knows. Definitely can't change it now. Mickey, Tony, Bobby, Michael causing all sorts of trouble for so long, high school, college, "The Bush" the early years. Lots of good and bad times spent from then until the inevitable, and then a very long drawn out end.
Thanks for some of it, not for the rest.
Thank you again for getting this far with me.
I got off the chair, took an immediate left, turned the corner and I was gone. Nothing was going to get in my way, not even the full grown man in front of me barely crawling forward in the snowplow of all snowplows. What else could I have done?? What would anyone have done in my situation?? I leaned all the way back, sat on the tails of my skis and yelled something as I went through the mans legs and kept on cruising. As I arrived at the bottom, big grin on my face, I was greeted by the whole fam damily. Every one of them had a horrified look on their faces, a true look of concern. Why? Probably the blood that was all down my face and all over the front of my ski jacket as apparently the man's large backside had been to tough a foe for my tiny little six year old nose.
I was prone to arm crossing at the time. Had once halted a family trip, for a period of time at least, by standing by the ice machine of the motel we had stayed at outside of Gettysburg on the way to Disneyworld. Who on earth drives their entire family, grandparents included, from Vermont to Florida for a good time I have no idea!! Somehow this time I had been extremely convincing for seven or eight or nine and thus I did not have to stay with friends. I was a man, at least more so then than now, and thus the wood stoves, the fire place, and all was kept going. I fed myself, slept, and manned the house for a long weekend alone.
I jumped in the front seat of the truck, slid the arm to where the little red needle was on the capital R on the gauge. I slowly began to back up the very soft, temporary drive that ran between the sets of six condos. As the truck worked it's way up the slope in reverse I tried to monitor my progress using the side view mirrors the way I had been taught, but the truck moved to my right ever so slightly, moving into softer and softer packed gravel as I went. It was sudden and in slow motion all at the same time as the truck slid to the side of the last condo unit in the cluster to the right and made contact with the sheathing on the corner. I had to make it right, I had to fix it, I knew how to rock the truck back and fourth to free it from where it was stuck. It dug in further and further while peeling the corner of the condo apart splinter by splinter. Not all bad in a days work for a thirteen year old paid laborer. At least I was able to entertain the men.
I was home from prep school for the summer and the school where I had spent 5th and 6th grade, and where my sister had broken the ring I gave her, and her finger, all at the same time during PE, had to be remodeled by summers end, which for me was mid-August for pre-season of my senior year. All day long ripping out old insulation and old siding to make way for new. Racing up the mountain to change and get my run in on the gravel that made up most of the roads at home. Showering and changing, jumping in the car with my sister, and racing the 45 or 35 or 25 minutes to Waterbury Center to pick up the then love of my life and off to cause trouble, the highlight of which was the Vermont State Fair at the end of my time home, listening to Crystal Gale, riding rides, eating cotton candy and then driving, singing, our way back to Waterbury Center to say goodbye.
It's late fall in Rhode Island, or early winter in Vermont, and the phone rings. I need to come home for Thursday and Friday. The roof needs to get on by end of day Friday because snow is coming on the weekend. Two days spent humping lumber, slinging plywood onto the roof rafters, my work boots wedged between two rafters, lean over, grab the corners and sling the plywood into place, repeat. End of Friday and he looks at the "valley" between the dormer roof and the roof to note that the lines are off slightly. The men note that know one has a better eye. This is Sophomore year, and the beginning of the end.
The light at the end of the tunnel. Almost done. Almost an engineer, an "engineer in training" to be precise. Must have been Easter break. Home to see the family. Sitting in the study by the roll-top desk. He is leaving, leaving mom, leaving us, leaving me. The company is closed, finished, gone. Twenty two years of hard hats, construction, the smell of pipes, cigarettes, horse shoes at lunch time, nothing being good enough, everything needing to be perfect, so perfect it broke the company. Twenty two years, or I guess maybe eighteen, dreaming of my nice, shiny, new backhoe, bulldozer, bucket loader. High school years getting bigger, stronger, and more responsible. College years of studying Structures, Concrete, Materials Testing, Principles of Drafting, Soil Engineering, and the EIT exam, which was easy to be honest!! Gone!!
Early years of adulthood, practicing engineer, Deer Island, River Relocation Project. Caught myself going over the pilings head first headed to the river bed sixty feet below. Promised management. Asked to move back. Lost her, lost him, lost her. Roommates with my brother. Evicted by my brother, sort of, essentially. Lost track of right and wrong briefly. Probably too much shit for one time in life. Visiting once in a while and then not. Finally ran away to Killington, best thing I have ever done, at least to that moment. WHS next. Hardest and best moment I could have had with a couple dozen young athletes and dad, one goal short. Said no to WHS football. Got another "real" job, got my masters just 'cause. Chose Chicago to get away and try something new. Consumed by the big company, screwed by six years of love. Sent to Frito Lay Europe. Came home for the holidays. The wives said no so December 28th it was. There she was, or so I thought. back to Europe, moved to penthouse, furnished the penthouse, bought the ring, the dress, the Porsche. Oops.
Moved back, stuck around, took care, lost out on first shot, family first. Back to the fray. Trying hard to be something I am not. Faking it pretty well at Sony and Astra. Lost out again, fall guy. Up or out...out. Now what. What else, finally followed in Dad's footsteps. Better late than never?? More like too late but not never.
End of a long strange road. Nothing is as it was supposed to be. No one else's fault but my own?? Who knows. Definitely can't change it now. Mickey, Tony, Bobby, Michael causing all sorts of trouble for so long, high school, college, "The Bush" the early years. Lots of good and bad times spent from then until the inevitable, and then a very long drawn out end.
Thanks for some of it, not for the rest.
Thank you again for getting this far with me.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Let Our Tebow Go
I will try to make this short and sweet, but ESPN has me fired up again. Today ESPN.com had a headline that read "John Fox...the Coach not Tim Tebow Saved the Broncos." I do not get why Tim Tebow seems to threaten so many associated with professional football. I realize he is not the ideal, prototypical pro quarterback these people dream about at night, but all he does is win, and give credit to God, his coach, his o-line, the Broncos defense. Why can't ESPN and the rest of the so called experts just accept that the Broncos are winning and their is a lot of credit to go around and stop trying to find fault??
Even better, at the beginning of the week, just after the Bears lost from what I can tell, someone associated with ESPN in Chicago reached out to Brett Favre and asked him a question. Monday morning they came out with "breaking news," Favre says he would listen to offer if Bears called. Talk about manufacturing headlines.
If ESPN would simply go back to showing sporting events, and reporting sports news once a day, and maybe if they got rid of 4 or 5 of their stations they would not have to continue to be the National Enquirer of sports television. By the way, after getting Joe Paterno fired and insighting a riot on the Penn State campus, ESPN finally covered the Sandusky side of the Sandusky scandal, ten days later!!
Thank you again for getting this far with me.
Even better, at the beginning of the week, just after the Bears lost from what I can tell, someone associated with ESPN in Chicago reached out to Brett Favre and asked him a question. Monday morning they came out with "breaking news," Favre says he would listen to offer if Bears called. Talk about manufacturing headlines.
If ESPN would simply go back to showing sporting events, and reporting sports news once a day, and maybe if they got rid of 4 or 5 of their stations they would not have to continue to be the National Enquirer of sports television. By the way, after getting Joe Paterno fired and insighting a riot on the Penn State campus, ESPN finally covered the Sandusky side of the Sandusky scandal, ten days later!!
Thank you again for getting this far with me.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Is It a Vermont Thing?
I am on a plane from Boston to LA and people have amazed me again, or confused. I am not sure if I am the way I am because of the way I was raised, or because of where I spent most of my early years, or if it is something I was born with, but I do know that the more time passes and the more our world becomes a me world the more different I feel and the more disappointed I am in the world we live in.
There is a gentleman in the row behind me that needs crutches to get around. I am not sure exactly what his ailment is, but he needed to the lav and so he pushed the "call" button for a flight attendant to get his crutches. When he had come back I had decided to get up and take a walk up, and down, the plane to stretch my legs a bit. I happened to get out in the isle, from my wonderful middle seat, just as he settled back into his seat and he had just pressed the call button. I reached out and offered to return his crutches for him since I was up. No big deal, not a lot of effort involved, something that I firmly believe should be second nature to all.
The reaction from the crowd was simply amazing, or as I said before, confusing, or maybe even troubling. The looks I got from people was as if I had just tried to steal this guys candy, or like I was weird for "getting involved." It is like being in the city when someone nearby is being harassed, or being in a public place when a parent is obviously mistreating their child. No one wants to get involved. No one wants to help their fellow "man," or woman. People think that being aware of your surroundings, noticing what is going on, and trying to help out is rude, or intrusive!! Horseshit!!
My mother lost a friend this year because she was simply concerned for her, and what this woman's husband was going through. She offered her help and it turns out that these people found this to be "intrusive," their word not mine. We, my siblings, my cousins and I grew up in an environment, on "the street," where everyone was always there for everyone else, or so is my recollection. If someone needed something you were there for them, whether it was something big or something small. No one ever really had to ask, and they definitely never had to ask twice. I don't know why it is that people just do not seem to be that way anymore.
It is funny because our world has changed so much today with Twitter and Facebook. People on the other side of the world are considered "friends," and everyone knows every little thing that is going on in everyone else's lives, and somehow that is OK, but put those people in front of one another and it is different. A few weeks ago someone I know in town posted that their son had been in a horrible accident and was in the hospital in the ICU. The reaction on Facebook was significant and very nice, but odd at the same time. First, if you "like" something on Facebook what does that really mean. Someone posts that their son is in the ICU and a bunch of people "like" that post. I don't think they mean that they like that he is in the ICU, but I really don't know what that means, and a bunch of folks posted "wishing you well let us know if we can do anything." What does that mean when half of those types of posts were from people not in the same state let alone in the same town.
In Vermont, and on "the street," people used to wave, say hello, Christ in some cases people would actually see someone going to their car from their living room window and poke their head outside and scream across the street, "good morning Aunt Dolly," or "good morning Rock." Please, thank you, excuse me, god forbid eye contact, were all good things!! Where has that gone, and why is it weird to do something nice, and why do the flight attendants get so over the top to say thank you to someone for simply offering to put a guys crutches away, or help someone with their bag?
I guess I am just weird.
Thank you again for getting this far with me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
