I recently had a conversation with a friend who I see maybe once a year and he asked, "so how has your year been?" Wow, my mind says. Do I tell him just what kind of year it's been or just tell him it sucked and we move on.
If you know me, or have read this blog, you know its been quite a year. The remainder of this blog entry provides the details, but needless to say 2013 has been less than desirable. So, how do you describe a year that has had enough highs and lows to reach mountain tops and fill valleys. Stay with me as I try to paint a picture with words that capture moments I will cherish as well as moments that will always be with me like it or not.
The year started in very unspecatcular fashion with the usual crappy weather that defines Ohio winters and lots of college basketball. As most know I travel Producing and Directing college basketball for ESPN, mostly in the Horizon and Missouri Valley Conference. These are the conferences many refer to as mid-majors or the bracket buster teams when it comes tournament time. My games are not the premiere game or rarely are my games on "the" ESPN network. But it is still basketball at its best….usually. You never know on a given night when one player goes for 40 points, or it comes down to a buzzer beater shot or you just get to see a really good basketball game. I get to work with some very talented and really great people who despite the miles apart we live or the so little time we spend together, have become a second family to me. Sadly, we lost one of those family members, Tom Domer, who will be a standard bearer for those who follow, a professional to a fault and a friend to everyone he touched,
It is a glamorous job but a job that takes a toll, both physically and mentally with travel and highs and lows and long lonely road trips. But I would not trade it for the world.
Julie and I made the transition to spring by making what was becoming our traditional trip to Marco Island. We fell in love with this place and the beach along with our day trip to Key West. I even made a new friend this trip named McCarthy from Green Bay...not Mike the coach but his three year old daughter, Isabella who shared her beach toys with me....not to worry, being a life long Packer fan, I made sure to make a fool of myself introducing myself to Coach as well.
After living in the same house for 16 years, our backyard has become a place to entertain, our own oasis with a deck, bar and temporary gazebo we christened "the hut." But this year, we were forced to replace our hut made of bamboo. It survived 6 years including a rare hurricane which required it to be anchored to the house to avoid leaning. The lean seemed to cause a kind of vertigo when you sat in it, despite the gallons of alcohol consumed there. So we chose a new one, bought it on line, assembled one beautiful May Saturday and listened to it collapse three days later due to a not so rare May monsoon. That should have been a sign but with the demise of our oasis, our interest in the backyard faded and the deck, bar and patio turned earily silent and flowers and plants that added color never met earth.
We spent the early part of summer counting the days until our 2nd Grandchild would be born to our daughter Courtney and her husband Justin. There were baby showers, 4th of July celebration or as Julie called it, High Holy days in Upper Arlington, OH. This was not as hectic as it had been in past years since we moved the celebration to Courtney's house in nearby Worthington. Not hosting had become a relief but a sad end of an era since our house and backyard had been the place to culminate a long day of friends, food and drink. Again it may have been a hint or sign of things to come but just seemed like a natural progression as our kids were starting their own lives and families.
It was at this time that First Community Church became a very important part of my life. This is the church Julie grew up in, the church we and both daughters were married in and where our kids and Grandson Jackson were baptized. After talking to a very good friend and mentor about helping to improve the Church's media ministry and meeting people that would later become very important to me, I found a new opportunity to use my TV and video knowledge and fill in some blank dates during the summer. I immediately fell in love with the challenge of improving the look of the churches television show with the help of my new found friends. The timing was perfect or as they put it, this was destiny.
Then came the moment I re-live day after day, an event you don't plan for, a moment in time that cannot be erased. When you lose your best friend of 35 years unexpectedly you immediately wonder how will I go on, how will I live each day without tears, mental pain and suffering. Then within minutes people, no, friends step up and do things you never dreamed would happen. One refuses to leave my side until I am settled down and thinking clearly, your best friend drops everything and flies across the country to be with you, your brother and sister-in-law come from South Carolina in a minutes notice, friends and co-workers, even bosses you have not seen in years appear and offer their support. Others unselfishly give their time and resources to put together meals, "backyard parties" and whatever else we needed to make those few miserable days tolerable. What I thought would be the darkest time in my life became a celebration for the life of the person who made a large part of my time here the very happiest. Friends and family made it okay to cry, laugh, hug and most important carry on with my life while never forgetting my wonderful wife and best friend Julie and to each and everyone one of you I am forever grateful.
And like that, things started to turn for the better. Call it the circle of life, destiny, God's healing touch or just Julie stirring the pot, 8 days later we welcomed Rylie Jo Simmons to our family, the daughter of Courtney and Justin and then before we could all get over how adorable she was, we grew as a family a little bit more with the arrival of Cooper Gareff DeWeese, 2nd son to Marin and Kevin. I hate that Julie is not here to be their Yah-Yah, but for me there will always be a little bit of Julie in both Rylie and Cooper and that I will make sure of. My kids and Grandchildren have been my rock through this all. I will always cherish sitting in Courtney's kitchen each morning for the week after Julie's death and watching as my family welcomed the morning each in their own way or listening to their stories of growing up together despite the fact that Julie and I never thought that any of them would survive growing up together! I can grow old now knowing they loved their Mom, they still love their Dad and they love each other. They're adults, they're parents and aunts and uncles but they will always be the one thing that took a very shitty year, shined it and did their very best to make sure it has a happy ending.
Fall meant the return to my road family and football and the transition back to basketball. My travels took me to Dallas twice which meant side trips to Austin to visit grandsons, Jackson and Cooper and stay in touch with Marin and Kevin. Sunday dinners are quickly becoming a tradition at Courtney and Justin's and time spent with Rylie. Kyle and I muddle through more like roommates than father-son.
But one Sunday in late September will always help to define the life that was Julie. As a part of our church there is a camp in the Hocking Hills of southern Ohio which are the foothills to the Appalachian mountains. This was a place very special to Julie, in fact donations of over $2,000.00 were made in her name to benefit the Camp Akita Scholarship fund to assure kids who want to attend Akita will be able to do so. So it seemed fitting that this be the place to spread her ashes, along with a beach in Florida. So I asked her closest friends and our family to gather there and quickly realized, had it not been for Julie, these people who are my dearest friends would not have ever been a part of my life and this was probably the greatest gift Julie could have ever given me and I will hold that late afternoon, in the gloaming, forever in my heart and mind.
Then it came holiday time and since that god awful day in July, the time I dreaded the most. Triggers were everywhere waiting to move me to tears and make my life miserable those final 6 weeks of the year. But despite some setbacks and full meltdown on a plane on our anniversary, these to we will survive with friends and family. And I firmly believe Julie is the reason why. She was so wrapped in tradition and fought change like a champion fighter so much so that if we held on to a little bit of Julie whether it be her silly stocking gifts, her love of games at family holiday get-togethers, Feliz Navidad or her no sports rule once the tree was up, together we would make it through and we have!
So what if anything can I gleam from 2013? Each of us deals with the loss of loved ones in different ways. So many were concerned for my well being and the most common phrase I heard was, "I can't imagine what you must be going through." I have friends who have gone through worse than I but were there for me with phone calls and notes. So how do I continue to put left foot in front of right foot and repeat? Luck….thats all I got. I am lucky to have the friends and family I have who all made it possible for me to continue on in as normal a fashion as I could. But the greatest healing moment came over drinks with a very dear friend and her husband who I was meeting for the first time. This was the first real social event without Julie and as the subject slowly moved to how was I dealing with everything, he became emotional and stated that he could not imagine life without his wife. It was then that I realized I was surviving this awful time and I was able to do so because as hard as it is to imagine being without your wife it would have been even harder had Julie and I not spent 35 years together preparing for this time. We built a family fortress to protect each other, a cache full of pictures, memories and events to re-live and a legion of friends who would care for either of us when the worst would happen. It was our being together that has made it possible for me to go on without her but never alone.
Each day, we honor those we love who are now gone, whether we know it or not, by being the people they helped make us to be. And I can attest that my friends and family all come from an amazing legacy based on the actions of all this past 6 months.
So now what. My strength to get me through the first few weeks following Julie's passing was saying, this is the beginning of a new journey. I still don't know where that journey will take me or what will be at the end of that road, in fact I really don't even know if it has begun. Thanks to friends, I now have a personal trainer to get me back on the track for a better me, a golf date in October 2015 at Pebble Beach to celebrate my 60th birthday, and new challenges professionally as we make the transition to HD television at church. I also have the three most amazing grandchildren God has created, no really mine are cuter than yours!
This trip alone is beginning to soon for me and so much of our time together was un-finished, but as each day passes, I get a little more excited for this new journey and I can start this new adventure knowing that Julie and I together built the trip-tik for which ever one of us remained. So stay tuned to this very spontaneous blog to see where life takes me as I gladly and sadly say good-bye to 2013 and hello to a New Year, may it be a lot better than the past.
Happy New Year!!
Sunday, December 29, 2013
Thursday, August 22, 2013
People Let Me Tell You 'Bout My Best Friend
It was a time of my life that I took for granted, a time that I selfishly thought would go on forever. I never dreamed nor did anyone who knew us, think it would ever come to such an abrupt end, an ending that came to soon. Like a great play, movie or book that you almost become intimate with or a spontaneous event that you wish could happen over and over, endings always come too soon.
On July 26th that unforeseen moment, that unrehearsed ending happened when I walked into our family room to find my wife Julie lying there, peaceful but unresponsive. I immediately flashed backed to one spring morning when I was 11 or 12, as I was getting ready for school and heard these God awful wails and screams from our neighbor who it turns out had just found her husband dead. I found myself re-living that moment when once I realized Julie was not going to wake up, creating noises from deep inside that must have sounded disturbing to anyone who could hear my cries for my very best friend.
Ours was a friendship that began even before I knew it. But Julie knew that first summer we worked together at WBNS-TV that we were loves destinity. The summer intern from the newsroom would have probably predicted then and there that the floor director who stood between the cameras every night during the news would someday be her husband. As for me, all I saw was a girl whose hair was curly and came to a point but nothing special. Why would I be interested in her, I had already found the love of my life or so I thought.
By the next summer, my love interests had changed from girls at work to playing golf. Julie returned for another internship in the newsroom and for some reason I found myself being drawn to the newsroom more and more even though floor directors were to never to step foot out of the studio. Luckily I followed my instincts and not the rules that summer. Still she pretty much had to ask me out that June 30th, 1977 evening as we watched the weather radar together while discussing the controversial topic, does outdoor smell change if a tornado is approaching?
Until 4am the next morning on the screened porch of the house where she lived with her parents and two sisters, we drank beer iced in a wheelbarrow, leftover from her Dad's party for a softball team and families. Since no tornado destroyed the evening, talk swiftly moved to more realistic topics and quickly we learned about each other. We moved to my car to say goodnight but found we still had more to talk about. Then, as the birds signaled daylight was approaching so ended our first date and the sun would soon shine on our new friendship that would continue on for 35 more years.
Everyone we knew realized we had nothing in common. I love sports, in fact have almost always worked in sports. She hated sports, especially the pros and big time college teams. I enjoy chick flicks, she craved a good murder-mystery. She loved to read and dearly loved her music from the 60's and 70's, especially top 40 and bubble gum bands. Her encyclopedic knowledge of this era taught me to appreciate some great and not so great music, but most importantly, we discovered our common ground.
I teased her constantly while dating about her obsession with The Osmonds until she opened my eyes by allowing me to accompany her to a concert at the Ohio State Fair. It was then that I realized she had taste in music and performing, both of which these brothers could do.
But Julie, never mainstream, did not go for Donny. Her love was with the drummer, Jay Osmond. She had the ability to talk her way backstage during state fair concerts when they were held outside on the grandstand stage. Following one of their concerts, she had a picture taken backstage with Jay. On her 50th birthday with a hint from her family, Jay sent Julie a personal happy birthday wish which took the sting out of turning 50.
But despite our wide range of interests, we always found ways to talk, laugh after arguments, understand weaknesses, appreciate the good in each other and simply enjoy our time together. Ours was never what you would call a love affair, she despised public displays of affection. What we had was a friendship that included love, respect, loyalty and a desire to always make each other smile and be happy, whether we wanted to or not. We took care of each other when faced with challenges, mentally and physically, listened as the other cried or screamed but always knew when it was time to support each other. Call it instinct, call it kismet but this was our relationship, this was my friend Julie.
Friendship was important to Julie and everyone was her new best friend. I always pitied the person who had to sit next to Julie on an airplane because what they did not know was she was bound and determined to make them her newest best friend. But more important to Julie were her true best friends, the ones she grew up with from the 5th grade. These people were Julie's world and she willingly accepted the challenge of keeping this group together and together they remain, being there for each other at times of need or just sitting well into the night trading the same stories over and over as if they remembered them for the first time.
Like all at the silly love stage, we had nicknames. Ours was based on visiting a Piggly-Wiggly grocery store while dating and from that we somehow christened each other Pig and Wig. both had cool cars while dating, hers a white 1973 Mustang convertible and mine a 1969 Camaro. We loved the ocean, any ocean, got to visit Hawaii twice and somehow together we raised three amazing children despite trying to be their friend and not their parents. We taught them a great deal of wrong and a little bit of right and always justified this form of parenting so that they would learn from our mistakes and create better lives for themselves. I don't recommend this method for anyone but the results so far are looking good.
This is just a glimpse of the person I got to call my wife, but more importantly my best friend.
If you asked me to describe Julie in one word it would be complex. She always told people she was a Gemini, the sign of duality and you never knew which Julie you would get each day. One day would be the free spirit outgoing Julie just looking for a party and the next would be quiet, pensive Julie who just wanted to be alone with her thoughts.
But it didn't matter which Julie you experienced, she would somehow leave her mark on you, wowing you with her knowledge of pop music, making you laugh with her ability to tell a story, making you mad with her honesty or just realizing she somehow got you to reveal things about yourself that normally you would tell no one. Then you knew you had just found your new best friend.
On July 26th that unforeseen moment, that unrehearsed ending happened when I walked into our family room to find my wife Julie lying there, peaceful but unresponsive. I immediately flashed backed to one spring morning when I was 11 or 12, as I was getting ready for school and heard these God awful wails and screams from our neighbor who it turns out had just found her husband dead. I found myself re-living that moment when once I realized Julie was not going to wake up, creating noises from deep inside that must have sounded disturbing to anyone who could hear my cries for my very best friend.
Ours was a friendship that began even before I knew it. But Julie knew that first summer we worked together at WBNS-TV that we were loves destinity. The summer intern from the newsroom would have probably predicted then and there that the floor director who stood between the cameras every night during the news would someday be her husband. As for me, all I saw was a girl whose hair was curly and came to a point but nothing special. Why would I be interested in her, I had already found the love of my life or so I thought.
By the next summer, my love interests had changed from girls at work to playing golf. Julie returned for another internship in the newsroom and for some reason I found myself being drawn to the newsroom more and more even though floor directors were to never to step foot out of the studio. Luckily I followed my instincts and not the rules that summer. Still she pretty much had to ask me out that June 30th, 1977 evening as we watched the weather radar together while discussing the controversial topic, does outdoor smell change if a tornado is approaching?
Until 4am the next morning on the screened porch of the house where she lived with her parents and two sisters, we drank beer iced in a wheelbarrow, leftover from her Dad's party for a softball team and families. Since no tornado destroyed the evening, talk swiftly moved to more realistic topics and quickly we learned about each other. We moved to my car to say goodnight but found we still had more to talk about. Then, as the birds signaled daylight was approaching so ended our first date and the sun would soon shine on our new friendship that would continue on for 35 more years.
Everyone we knew realized we had nothing in common. I love sports, in fact have almost always worked in sports. She hated sports, especially the pros and big time college teams. I enjoy chick flicks, she craved a good murder-mystery. She loved to read and dearly loved her music from the 60's and 70's, especially top 40 and bubble gum bands. Her encyclopedic knowledge of this era taught me to appreciate some great and not so great music, but most importantly, we discovered our common ground.
I teased her constantly while dating about her obsession with The Osmonds until she opened my eyes by allowing me to accompany her to a concert at the Ohio State Fair. It was then that I realized she had taste in music and performing, both of which these brothers could do.
But Julie, never mainstream, did not go for Donny. Her love was with the drummer, Jay Osmond. She had the ability to talk her way backstage during state fair concerts when they were held outside on the grandstand stage. Following one of their concerts, she had a picture taken backstage with Jay. On her 50th birthday with a hint from her family, Jay sent Julie a personal happy birthday wish which took the sting out of turning 50.
But despite our wide range of interests, we always found ways to talk, laugh after arguments, understand weaknesses, appreciate the good in each other and simply enjoy our time together. Ours was never what you would call a love affair, she despised public displays of affection. What we had was a friendship that included love, respect, loyalty and a desire to always make each other smile and be happy, whether we wanted to or not. We took care of each other when faced with challenges, mentally and physically, listened as the other cried or screamed but always knew when it was time to support each other. Call it instinct, call it kismet but this was our relationship, this was my friend Julie.
Friendship was important to Julie and everyone was her new best friend. I always pitied the person who had to sit next to Julie on an airplane because what they did not know was she was bound and determined to make them her newest best friend. But more important to Julie were her true best friends, the ones she grew up with from the 5th grade. These people were Julie's world and she willingly accepted the challenge of keeping this group together and together they remain, being there for each other at times of need or just sitting well into the night trading the same stories over and over as if they remembered them for the first time.
Like all at the silly love stage, we had nicknames. Ours was based on visiting a Piggly-Wiggly grocery store while dating and from that we somehow christened each other Pig and Wig. both had cool cars while dating, hers a white 1973 Mustang convertible and mine a 1969 Camaro. We loved the ocean, any ocean, got to visit Hawaii twice and somehow together we raised three amazing children despite trying to be their friend and not their parents. We taught them a great deal of wrong and a little bit of right and always justified this form of parenting so that they would learn from our mistakes and create better lives for themselves. I don't recommend this method for anyone but the results so far are looking good.
This is just a glimpse of the person I got to call my wife, but more importantly my best friend.
If you asked me to describe Julie in one word it would be complex. She always told people she was a Gemini, the sign of duality and you never knew which Julie you would get each day. One day would be the free spirit outgoing Julie just looking for a party and the next would be quiet, pensive Julie who just wanted to be alone with her thoughts.
But it didn't matter which Julie you experienced, she would somehow leave her mark on you, wowing you with her knowledge of pop music, making you laugh with her ability to tell a story, making you mad with her honesty or just realizing she somehow got you to reveal things about yourself that normally you would tell no one. Then you knew you had just found your new best friend.
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
Making Old New Again
We all have memories we would like to re-live and some we would just as soon forget. They exist, good or bad, to remind us of what makes us happy and what not to repeat again.
Thomas Jefferson, who seemed to speak as if he knew he would be quoted forever, said "I like the dream of the future better than the history of the past." For me this journey that I have started is my dream, feeling better, looking better and just adding years to my life so that I can create new memories that include my family and my grandchildren.
But the history of my past is what is motivating me, so sorry Mr Jefferson, but I need to dwell in the past once in awhile. First of all the weight I had reached would have been a bowling average to be envied. Slowly, almost too slowly, the pounds are falling and that will be a past I hope to never repeat.
This week also rekindled a memory I hold dear and would love to repeat again with one of my grandkids. It was a day that my son Kyle and I will treasure.
Kyle and I have a shared passion, sports. There is little we are able to talk about beyond that, although he and his Mom can find a multitude of topics to talk about into the wee hours of the night. I guess he just plays to my strengths. Part of that passion is our love of stadiums, preferably the old but the new have their advantages. I went so far as to plan a weeks journey for he and I that would have taken us from Pittsburgh to Philadelphia to Washington DC, then on to Baltimore, New York and ending up in Boston, seeing a baseball game in the stadiums of those cities, all new except for the finale at Fenway Park. This trip has moved to the bucket list and each season I check the schedules to see if its possible.
We did see a game at Wrigley Field and experienced a Monday Night Football game at Lambeau Field, but one stadium is just a little more special, mainly because it no longer stands.
1999 was the final season for Tiger Stadium in Detroit, a stadium that had seen better days, but still held on to a part of baseball history. I had never seen the stadium and I wanted Kyle and I to experience an old baseball stadium together and this was the closest to home. It was a Friday night game with the Boston Red Sox near the end of July and we had bought tickets in the lower deck in the right field corner.
We arrived in Detroit and the stadium in the early afternoon. Lunch was on the agenda and keeping with the nostalgia of the day, Kyle picked Casey's Pub a neighborhood bar two clocks from the stadium, because they had a sign that said "Great Cheeseburgers." So Casey's it was. Besides the locals who had their places at the bar, there were a few tables and we chose our seats and ordered our cheeseburgers.
At the next table was an older couple who quickly struck up a conversation with us, probably to find out why a grown man brought a 13 year old boy into a bar on Michigan Avenue in the middle of the afternoon. It turned out, they were there for the same reason as Kyle and I, killing time before the baseball game. But they came to Tiger Stadium for a different reason, to see their beloved Red Sox. They were Fenway Park season ticker holders, had been for years, so they had prime tickets for every Red Sox game. We spent the afternoon experiencing Fenway through their eyes and memories but this was just the beginning of a day that could never be repeated.
We departed Casey's and our new friends to catch the tour of Tiger Stadium, seeing Ernie Harwell's tiny broadcast booth that seemed to hang directly over home plate and the famous in play flag pole in center field. This stadium, although it had a death sentence at the end of the season, was quickly becoming a new friend.
As we waited at the corner of Trumbell and Michigan for the gates to open we once again met our new friends from Boston. They just happened to have two extra tickets to the game. We had ours but their's offered bit of a different view, 6 rows behind the Tigers dugout. They were ours as long as I promised not to sell them.
I don't have words that have not already beed used by much better writers than I to describe that night and what we got to see but they are images that have a special place in my own gallery of memories.
This week I returned to "The Corner" where the stadium once stood. All that remains is the field that is maintained not by experienced grounds crews, but volunteers who trespass with their lawnmowers to keep the heart of this otherwise vacant lot beating. The famous flagpole still stands in what used to be center field with the 1984 World Series Banner flying proudly. Beyond that you have to draw on experience and memories to appreciate what was once there. Even with just our one game experience, it is a bit emotional to stand there looking through the fence and wishing once again you could go back in time and witness a small piece of baseball history.
These are the dreams I hold for the future with my grandkids, that together, we will share an interest and find a way to experience it in person, whether it's a book, a place, the arts or sports, I want to give to them the gift Kyle and I received that July day in 1999, a day that will live as long as we do, if only in our memories.
As far as the Journey to a better me, there has been weight loss and I am adapting to life without potato chips and bread and pasta. Eventually some of that will creep back into my diet, but not until I adapt to portion controls and more of this extra Matt is lost. I attempted to take what is called a "recreational" walk but found that muscles need activity, regularly or they revolt in order to teach you a lesson. Mine began their own revolution against me just 4 blocks from our house, which as I turned to return to, seemed to have move to the next county in distance. But I huffed and puffed my way back those 4 blocks and wondered what have I done. I know it's baby steps and months from now I will wonder why I didn't do it sooner. It's too early for this life to become a vacant lot so the rebuilding continues and each day new improvements will lead to a smaller but better me, which sad to say is the way of new baseball stadiums.
Thomas Jefferson, who seemed to speak as if he knew he would be quoted forever, said "I like the dream of the future better than the history of the past." For me this journey that I have started is my dream, feeling better, looking better and just adding years to my life so that I can create new memories that include my family and my grandchildren.
But the history of my past is what is motivating me, so sorry Mr Jefferson, but I need to dwell in the past once in awhile. First of all the weight I had reached would have been a bowling average to be envied. Slowly, almost too slowly, the pounds are falling and that will be a past I hope to never repeat.
This week also rekindled a memory I hold dear and would love to repeat again with one of my grandkids. It was a day that my son Kyle and I will treasure.
Kyle and I have a shared passion, sports. There is little we are able to talk about beyond that, although he and his Mom can find a multitude of topics to talk about into the wee hours of the night. I guess he just plays to my strengths. Part of that passion is our love of stadiums, preferably the old but the new have their advantages. I went so far as to plan a weeks journey for he and I that would have taken us from Pittsburgh to Philadelphia to Washington DC, then on to Baltimore, New York and ending up in Boston, seeing a baseball game in the stadiums of those cities, all new except for the finale at Fenway Park. This trip has moved to the bucket list and each season I check the schedules to see if its possible.
We did see a game at Wrigley Field and experienced a Monday Night Football game at Lambeau Field, but one stadium is just a little more special, mainly because it no longer stands.
At the next table was an older couple who quickly struck up a conversation with us, probably to find out why a grown man brought a 13 year old boy into a bar on Michigan Avenue in the middle of the afternoon. It turned out, they were there for the same reason as Kyle and I, killing time before the baseball game. But they came to Tiger Stadium for a different reason, to see their beloved Red Sox. They were Fenway Park season ticker holders, had been for years, so they had prime tickets for every Red Sox game. We spent the afternoon experiencing Fenway through their eyes and memories but this was just the beginning of a day that could never be repeated.
We departed Casey's and our new friends to catch the tour of Tiger Stadium, seeing Ernie Harwell's tiny broadcast booth that seemed to hang directly over home plate and the famous in play flag pole in center field. This stadium, although it had a death sentence at the end of the season, was quickly becoming a new friend.
As we waited at the corner of Trumbell and Michigan for the gates to open we once again met our new friends from Boston. They just happened to have two extra tickets to the game. We had ours but their's offered bit of a different view, 6 rows behind the Tigers dugout. They were ours as long as I promised not to sell them.
I don't have words that have not already beed used by much better writers than I to describe that night and what we got to see but they are images that have a special place in my own gallery of memories.
This week I returned to "The Corner" where the stadium once stood. All that remains is the field that is maintained not by experienced grounds crews, but volunteers who trespass with their lawnmowers to keep the heart of this otherwise vacant lot beating. The famous flagpole still stands in what used to be center field with the 1984 World Series Banner flying proudly. Beyond that you have to draw on experience and memories to appreciate what was once there. Even with just our one game experience, it is a bit emotional to stand there looking through the fence and wishing once again you could go back in time and witness a small piece of baseball history.
These are the dreams I hold for the future with my grandkids, that together, we will share an interest and find a way to experience it in person, whether it's a book, a place, the arts or sports, I want to give to them the gift Kyle and I received that July day in 1999, a day that will live as long as we do, if only in our memories.
As far as the Journey to a better me, there has been weight loss and I am adapting to life without potato chips and bread and pasta. Eventually some of that will creep back into my diet, but not until I adapt to portion controls and more of this extra Matt is lost. I attempted to take what is called a "recreational" walk but found that muscles need activity, regularly or they revolt in order to teach you a lesson. Mine began their own revolution against me just 4 blocks from our house, which as I turned to return to, seemed to have move to the next county in distance. But I huffed and puffed my way back those 4 blocks and wondered what have I done. I know it's baby steps and months from now I will wonder why I didn't do it sooner. It's too early for this life to become a vacant lot so the rebuilding continues and each day new improvements will lead to a smaller but better me, which sad to say is the way of new baseball stadiums.
Saturday, July 6, 2013
Good Wine, Good Friends....Good God!!!
It's a well known fact that things like wine and single malt scotch get better through the process of fermentation and as they age, their value rises, their taste improves and well, they just get better with age. So that thought drew me to the dictionary to see what ferment really meant.
Ferment: To be in a state of agitation or intense activity....who knew what really goes on in those barrels.
So what does fermentation have to do with this blog. Well, like wine and scotch we like to think our lives and our bodies get better with age. But speaking for this tired old bag of bones and skin, the only thing getting better for me are the odds I will not reach the ripeness of old age and enjoy the fruits of my labor. I am quickly spoiling and my ability to better with age will be lost.
Over the past month or so, there have been, lets say, warning flags or as comedian Bill Engvall calls them, signs for the stupid, like getting my fat ass stuck in a chair or just not being able to maintain my body hygiene...nuff said....I am bigger today than I have ever been in my life. I have also been diagnosed with sleep apnea that has cost me financially, physically and mentally as well as strained a 33 year old marriage. After enduring a sleep study that revealed collapsing airways every 30 seconds and blood oxygen levels only the dead would have envied, I now sleep with a machine that allows me to sleep like most people. Before my Bi-pap machine, I was falling asleep while sitting up which caused me to fall into things like furniture or off of chairs. In a movie it would be called slap-stick, for me it was a slap in the face.
So that began phase one of getting better with age. My apnea was affecting my life in a very negative way, but it also provided me with an excuse not to do anything physically, I was just too tired. Remember part of fermenting is intense activity so I am not getting better, I am just stinking up the place. Now after 10 days, I feel I have more energy, but I fear I am going to miss my dear friend, the excuse of being too tired.
So I have experienced warning flags, ah-ha moments and signs of stupidity, but today I got hit upside the head as I came face to face with my ever growing problem, I bought a scale.
Those digital numbers will never replace a dog as man's best friend but today the number 288 will not be my pick three or the beginning of a new pin number. That my friends is my current weight. It's not a surprise. All I have to do is look at pictures of special events in my families lives to document my increasing footprint on planet earth.
I also know I am very lucky that my wake up calls, including today's $20.00 purchase, have not involved great physical harm in the form of heart attacks or strokes, but I too often feel I am treading on ice thick enough to hold a car but for me it's becoming increasingly thin.
So today I proclaim war on weight, the fight against fat and a battle against bulge. As a part of this skirmish, I will use this blog and its readers to hold me accountable. I know I am setting my self up for failure and embarassment by publishing this and future blog posts, but nothing else has worked to motivate me to make these necessary changes so why not success through humiliation.
There are personal reasons....I want to track my success or failure as a reminder in the future as changes continue to be made, good or bad. It is also a writing challenge for me to have this as a part of my routine. This means it won't always be about weight gain or loss or how many miles I have walked.
I also have a pretty cool job that is fun to talk about as a producer-director for ESPN, doing college sports. So there will also be updates and thoughts about places I get to visit and things I get to cover in college football and basketball.
I also have three grown and great kids whose lives are changing constantly and a part of that is the soon to be arrival of our number two and three grandchildren. That alone should be the motivation I need to get me started and to conquer my enemy and my fear of failure.
And more than anything, I have a very caring and supportive wife, Julie, who rides this roller coaster of a life with me. I'm quite sure there are many times she would like to get off and see me ride alone without the safety bar, but for some reason she is always there beside me.
So there it is. I stand naked before you....not to worry I will not include before pics....my hopes and fears published for those who care or can tolerate the goings on of an average life documented by an average writer. I have a diet plan and an exercise program that includes a gym membership that last year cost me $600.00 per visit....well one visit and $50.00 per month. I also have goals. Not so much a number, but a present to myself. You see in October of 2015 I will turn 60. At one time I played and enjoyed golf even though I never broke 90 I don't think. But on or near my 60th birthday, I want to be physically able to play Pebble Beach Golf Links, walking with a caddy and re-learn the game of golf to finally break 90 strokes for 18 holes, maybe not at Pebble Beach, but on regular basis.
I also have a number in mind, but know there are plateaus and weight levels that I will face and don't want a number as my only measurement of success. I also have clothes I want to wear again, be able to wear a tie and button the top button on a shirt, enjoy yard work again and not ache every day. But more than anything I want to see and enjoy what my Dad didn't get to witness, grandchildren grow up.
Someone once said "Next year I will be older than I have ever been before." Kind of a Yogi Berra statement but to know I will be able to see next year and the years after as I keep getting older than last year, I will know everyday, I am getting better with age.
Ferment: To be in a state of agitation or intense activity....who knew what really goes on in those barrels.
So what does fermentation have to do with this blog. Well, like wine and scotch we like to think our lives and our bodies get better with age. But speaking for this tired old bag of bones and skin, the only thing getting better for me are the odds I will not reach the ripeness of old age and enjoy the fruits of my labor. I am quickly spoiling and my ability to better with age will be lost.
Over the past month or so, there have been, lets say, warning flags or as comedian Bill Engvall calls them, signs for the stupid, like getting my fat ass stuck in a chair or just not being able to maintain my body hygiene...nuff said....I am bigger today than I have ever been in my life. I have also been diagnosed with sleep apnea that has cost me financially, physically and mentally as well as strained a 33 year old marriage. After enduring a sleep study that revealed collapsing airways every 30 seconds and blood oxygen levels only the dead would have envied, I now sleep with a machine that allows me to sleep like most people. Before my Bi-pap machine, I was falling asleep while sitting up which caused me to fall into things like furniture or off of chairs. In a movie it would be called slap-stick, for me it was a slap in the face.
So that began phase one of getting better with age. My apnea was affecting my life in a very negative way, but it also provided me with an excuse not to do anything physically, I was just too tired. Remember part of fermenting is intense activity so I am not getting better, I am just stinking up the place. Now after 10 days, I feel I have more energy, but I fear I am going to miss my dear friend, the excuse of being too tired.
So I have experienced warning flags, ah-ha moments and signs of stupidity, but today I got hit upside the head as I came face to face with my ever growing problem, I bought a scale.
Those digital numbers will never replace a dog as man's best friend but today the number 288 will not be my pick three or the beginning of a new pin number. That my friends is my current weight. It's not a surprise. All I have to do is look at pictures of special events in my families lives to document my increasing footprint on planet earth.
I also know I am very lucky that my wake up calls, including today's $20.00 purchase, have not involved great physical harm in the form of heart attacks or strokes, but I too often feel I am treading on ice thick enough to hold a car but for me it's becoming increasingly thin.
So today I proclaim war on weight, the fight against fat and a battle against bulge. As a part of this skirmish, I will use this blog and its readers to hold me accountable. I know I am setting my self up for failure and embarassment by publishing this and future blog posts, but nothing else has worked to motivate me to make these necessary changes so why not success through humiliation.
There are personal reasons....I want to track my success or failure as a reminder in the future as changes continue to be made, good or bad. It is also a writing challenge for me to have this as a part of my routine. This means it won't always be about weight gain or loss or how many miles I have walked.
I also have a pretty cool job that is fun to talk about as a producer-director for ESPN, doing college sports. So there will also be updates and thoughts about places I get to visit and things I get to cover in college football and basketball.
I also have three grown and great kids whose lives are changing constantly and a part of that is the soon to be arrival of our number two and three grandchildren. That alone should be the motivation I need to get me started and to conquer my enemy and my fear of failure.
And more than anything, I have a very caring and supportive wife, Julie, who rides this roller coaster of a life with me. I'm quite sure there are many times she would like to get off and see me ride alone without the safety bar, but for some reason she is always there beside me.
So there it is. I stand naked before you....not to worry I will not include before pics....my hopes and fears published for those who care or can tolerate the goings on of an average life documented by an average writer. I have a diet plan and an exercise program that includes a gym membership that last year cost me $600.00 per visit....well one visit and $50.00 per month. I also have goals. Not so much a number, but a present to myself. You see in October of 2015 I will turn 60. At one time I played and enjoyed golf even though I never broke 90 I don't think. But on or near my 60th birthday, I want to be physically able to play Pebble Beach Golf Links, walking with a caddy and re-learn the game of golf to finally break 90 strokes for 18 holes, maybe not at Pebble Beach, but on regular basis.
I also have a number in mind, but know there are plateaus and weight levels that I will face and don't want a number as my only measurement of success. I also have clothes I want to wear again, be able to wear a tie and button the top button on a shirt, enjoy yard work again and not ache every day. But more than anything I want to see and enjoy what my Dad didn't get to witness, grandchildren grow up.
Someone once said "Next year I will be older than I have ever been before." Kind of a Yogi Berra statement but to know I will be able to see next year and the years after as I keep getting older than last year, I will know everyday, I am getting better with age.
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