NEW YEAR'S

Most of my memories of New Year’s Day involve football games.  But one special one did not.  Well, actually it did but it was not the primary reason it was memorable.  Let’s just say 1B was the football game, 1A was named Terry. 

I had just met Terry a few weeks before on a blind date arranged by our mutual friend Richard.  Richard knew me so well that when he said there was this Catholic girl he wanted me to meet I knew, without any doubt, that this was THE girl. 

He arranged to bring her to meet me for a late fall date.  She walked into my apartment at school wearing a button-down white blouse and green khaki skirt for our first date, which happened to be a football game.  She had this smile that, to this day, makes me melt.  It was on.  We climbed on the back of a stake bed truck with my fraternity brothers and their dates for the short ride to the Coliseum.  We were playing Navy that day.  Roger Staubach was the quarterback who later that year won the Heisman Trophy. 

I proposed on our third date, which happened to be a rodeo.  No candle light dinners for me.  She said yes. 

That New Years Eve a fraternity brother of mine hosted a party at his home.  At parties such as this it was the custom for those couples that were going public with their engagement to become pInned.  This meant the guy, in this case, me, would give his fraternity pIn to his girl, which was Terry.  At some point during the evening Richard tapped his glass with a spoon to get everyone’s attention, then announced the penning of one Forest “Woody” Smith III to Terry Devaney .  I gave Terry a long, passionate kiss then there were congratulations all around. 

We left the party and drove to my aunt and uncles house in Pasadena to spend the night.  They lived just a short distance from the Rose Bowl.  This would make for a short trip the next day.  They had waited up for us.  In hindsight I am sure it was to see that we slept in separate bed rooms. 

The next day we were treated to a royal breakfast of ham and eggs, hash browns, cinnamon rolls, juice and coffee.  It was one of those special meals only your favorite aunt can prepare.  We visited for a while as we watched the Rose Parade on TV then took off for the game.

Sitting in the student rooting section Terry was indoctrinated into what a lifetime with a USC football fan would be like.  We saw a thriller (at least I thought it was) as USC built a big early lead and then survived a furious Wisconsin rally to finish an undefeated season and win the National Championship.  As I mentioned, that was 1B.

1A was then, is now and always will be Terry.  That New Year’s Eve was 48 years ago.  We will spend this New Year’s Eve having dinner with our family and more than likely be asleep before midnight.  We will watch endless bowl games from our living room because our team is in the 2^nd year of a 2 year ban on playing in a bowl.  Whether it has been 48 years or 4800 years I will never forget the first one we spent together.  It was special.

 

PRICELESS

Gas to go out for the evening: $5.00

Wig rental for my wife to look like a groupie: $20

An evening spent with my life partner, family and friends listening to Atomic Punks: PRICELESS

Magic happens in strange ways.  Sometimes it’s a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat,  sometimes it’s an unexplainable scientific event and sometimes it’s a bunch of things all coming together at the right time and place to create an evening of magic.  Last night was one of those times.

When I was invited to my son’s company Christmas party, the invitation stated the entertainment would be provided by Atomic Punks.  I immediately Googled Atomic Punks to see who or what they were.  They are what we music aficionados call a Tribute Band.  It takes big stardom to warrant a Tribute Band.  Big stardom would describe Van Halen, the band that Atomic Punks pay tribute to by emulating them from A to Z.  Everything about Van Halen except their blood type is copied so as to create the feeling that one is watching and listening to the original.

It was no coincidence that Atomic Punks was picked to entertain for this party.  It so happens Van Halen was THE band of the years our kids were growing up.  While our daughters tilted more toward heavy metal, our son head bobbed around our house imitating Billy Idol and Van Halen.  Since this Christmas party was for his company, he chose Atomic Punks.
 
My wife and I were sitting at a table having dinner when the band arrived.  They wandered in wearing their street clothes, introduced themselves and asked where to set up.  Having raised 4 kids I can spot these rock types right off.  The longish hair and the look of not having had a square meal in 6 months.  While having dessert we could hear the band warming up and tuning their guitars.        

We were told the show would begin soon and to adjourn to the showroom.  In this case the showroom was a warehouse with velvet curtains hung to hide the machinery, equipment and supplies stored there.  A makeshift stage was set up along with professional lighting and sound equipment, cocktail tables were scattered around and family, friends and business associates settled in.  A piece of the magic mentioned earlier was in place.

As the band came onstage I hardly recognized the guys I had seen earlier in street clothes.  Three of the four wore a kind of a grunge look while the lead singer Brian, who passed as Eddie Van Halen, wore skin tight silky or velour pants with one design on the back and another the front and a sleeveless top that looked as though it had been ripped to shreds.  As he welcomed everyone he mentioned it was their first performance in a warehouse. 

With speakers the size of railroad cars the joint vibrated as they launched into a series of hits from the good old days.  That is if your good old days happened to be the seventies and eighties.  With me being the single exception everyone there knew every single word to every single song and when to thrust their fist in the air, perfectly in tune with the music.  More magic. 

During the song “Ice Cream Man” Brian, noticed one particular guy that was quite into the performance.  It didn’t take much urging but he invited my daughter’s boyfriend Eddie up to sing the last part of the song.  Emboldened with a glass or four of white wine, Eddie got up with the band.  While the crowd shouted “Eddie!!, Eddie!!, Eddie!!” he sang the last few bars of Ice Cream Man to thunderous applause.  More magic.

Next my son was invited up to do his version of the same finish to Ice Cream Man.  Having known my son since diapers, this was about as out of character for him as me trying to do the samba on Dancing With the Stars.  I know he was thinking “I can’t back out now”.  Spurred on by the challenge thrown down by Eddie, he did his best Van Halen imitation and showed amazing range of voice for a man whose Dad couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket.  He finished it off with a Van Halen style leap in the air, arm thrusting move the master would have been proud of.  As I have been reminded many times over the years, we think we know our kids but there are often surprises.  

My wife and I watched all of this while seated on a sofa surrounded by our kids, grand kids, in-laws and very special friends.  It was one of those magical nights.      

 

                                                                                                                                          

OCCUPY THIS

I consider myself fairly adept at seeing both sides of an argument.  In the end I still may tell those with an opposing viewpoint to stuff it but at least I make the effort to hear their point of view.   For the past few weeks I have been trying to do just that with this Occupy this and that movement. 

In conducting my research I have read the printed word, listened to on-site radio accounts and interviews and watched extensive TV coverage from both left and right leaning perspectives.  Over the years I have seen many movements for one cause or another and whether I agree or not it is usually quite clear what they believe in or what their goals are.  Not so with the Occupy crowd.

Have you heard any of these interviews?  Most of them are conducted by a reporter standing among a crowd against a back drop of tents and sign carrying protestors.  These signs, for the most part, depict all manner of hatred for anything corporate, as do the comments of the interviewees.  When the interviewee is not shouted down by some admitted union official, the comments go something like this.  Why are you here?  “We want to end corporate greed.”  How do you plan on doing that?  “Well, uh, we uhh……”  Of the scores of interviews I heard or watched this summarizes the majority of responses.  In fact only 2, both young women, gave a response that left me feeling as though I understood why they were there.

I fully recognize the right of people to peacefully assemble for the purpose of being heard.  In most cases it is the only means they have to vent their feelings.  Where they lose me is when they infringe on the rights of others.  As for example, the 2 million bucks or so spent for clean up after them in New York.  I am sure that if the mayor of New York City sat down to think about it there are many ways that money could have been spent and left a better aftertaste.  Or the effect on the surrounding businesses such as the dry cleaner in LA operated by a man and his wife who claimed the occupiers brought in 30 sleeping bags to be dry cleaned but refused to pay for them.    

When there are so many who are down and out I can understand the animosity toward some for obvious excesses.  But to lump everyone they deem doing well into one category called “corporations” and attack them all as evil is wrong.  First off, corporations come in all sizes, big and small.  In fact, almost without exception they all started as small when someone starting a business experienced enough success to deem incorporating an important part of their future.  Some remained small family businesses, some grew to be giants but most fell by the wayside leaving financial disasters in their wakes for those who dared take a risk.  The recent filing for bankruptcy of American Airlines a sign no one is safe. 

Like all of society, business is going through a period of adjustment to a world economy.  Formulas that used to work in terms of costs and income are being revalued.  Business owners, stockholders and labor alike will figure it out.  But enough with the animosity toward what the Occupy people would have you believe are the business version of Satan.  Ask any hospital, university, aids or cancer research project or other recipients of millions and millions of dollars in donations from corporations how they feel.  Ask the millions of people employed by them as they seek to survive in this highly competitive, survival of the fittest business climate.  There is much good there. 

FREDDIE

Freddie is a horse.  Actually, calling Freddie a horse is like calling the Eiffel Tower a tower or the Mona Lisa a painting.  Freddie was the world to Jordan and Kelly. 
Like most parents raising young kids today their parents grasp at every straw available to them to assure their kids grow up to be good, decent human beings.  Living in an equestrian oriented community and with their children showing a love of horses one of the straws they felt worth grasping was a horse.   

Having made that decision, the search was on.  The kids were quite young at the time so it was important to find a calm, mild mannered horse who loved children.  One who would not run off with them, kick if they walked behind him and not too spicy.  After interviewing several horses they came across an elderly bay named Freddie.  It was a match made in heaven.

The girls became students.  Not just students of how to ride a horse but students of many life lessons unique to pets.  Granted a horse is a big pet but nevertheless, a pet.  They needed assistance getting aboard and very short stirrups for their little legs but slowly they became more and more comfortable in the saddle. 

But that was just the beginning.  Next were the life lessons.  They learned that a pet needs to me fed, cleaned up after, washed, brushed, exercised and loved.  The tack also needs to cleaned, polished and oiled.  It’s ok to go out and ride but they learned you’re not done when you dismount.   When not riding they did their chores, morning and evening

As time went by Jordan and Kelly became more comfortable in the saddle and around the stables.  They progressed from walking to a cantor to a gallop.  Then they learned to jump.  Freddie was the perfect horse for two young girls learning all phases of horsemanship.  All the while, a deep love was developing.

The girls were not burdened by their duties, they eagerly looked forward to them.  Walking down the long hallway at the stables they could see Freddie’s head sticking out of his stall.  He seemed to sense they were there.  He was gentle as he patiently waited for them to learn horsemanship and stood calmly when being brushed, put back in his stall and fed. 

He became ill recently, ill enough to be taken to an equine hospital where he made a brief rally but left us for horse heaven.  As you can imagine Jordan and Kelly are crushed.  All the words their parents say to them do little to ease the pain.  It is one of those times in life you just let them know you are there.  The parent’s pain is in seeing their kids hurt.

As time passes Jordan and Kelly will realize how fortunate they were to have a Freddie in their lives.  The lessons he taught them will serve them well, just as their parents had planned.     

TED



I don’t know how many people can say this but I know a guy that everyone like’s.  I mean everyone.  I have known this gentleman for many years and have yet to meet anyone who has anything bad to say about him.  Do you know anyone like that?  His name is Ted.  He’s kind of a hard guy to describe because he doesn’t look like anyone I have ever known (although he reminds me of a better looking version of Joe Torre).  The best way I can describe him is he reminds me of Andy.  You know, of Raggedy Ann and Andy.  There is not a lot of physical resemblance but Ted just reminds me of Raggedy Andy.  There is the constant smile, hair sticking out from under his cap and the perpetual hang–loose look of Andy.  If Andy could walk I am sure he would jangle along like Ted does.  

My friend Ted happens to have a background in the automotive industry, originally as a racing driver, more recently in the automotive event business.  Any gear head worth his salt can quote you chapter and verse of Ted’s accomplishments in racing.  He had success at every level as a driver including the pinnacle of American racing, the Indianapolis 500.  Along the way he made more friends among those he knew and those he did not know than most of us ever will.  A friend of mine, who was there, said that at the recent 100 year anniversary of the Indianapolis 500 Ted was warmly greeted by the past drivers that were honored and fans alike. 

Currently, Ted is a valued member of the Apex Performance team.  Together they work as a partner with most of the leading automotive companies of the world.  His racing background allows him to provide valuable and insightful feedback to company engineers regarding their products and there isn’t much he has not done when it comes to staging events.

I got a little off track there, I intended to tell of his uniqueness.  He is one of the great story tellers ever, which means stuff always seems to happen when he is around.  That gives him an endless source of material for water cooler talk back at the office.  He is also a great practical joker.  He takes particular delight in telling a story of carving a piece of scrap metal into the shape of a gun and placing it in his roommate’s luggage before he headed to the airport.  Then there was the time he parked his skip loader against the door of a port-a-potty while his friend was inside.  

To say he is easy going is an understatement.  I doubt if his blood pressure has ever risen above 100 over 40.  His pulse is permanently fixed at about 60.  Nothing seems to bother him other than when the Dallas Cowboys lose.  He has a calming effect on everyone around him.

We all have those acquaintances that add richness to our lives.  One of my great joys is to be in a gathering with Ted and his peers while he is at his story telling best (ask him to tell you about the story that ended with the quote "is that for TV or the theaters?")  I have a feeling my life is not the only one being enriched. 

BATCHING IT

I’ve been batching it for the last week or so.  For those of you who aren’t hip, “batching it” means living as a bachelor, as in, all by yourself.  Not that I am a bachelor in the true sense, meaning unmarried.  I am most definitely married and have been for 48 years (to the same woman).  It’s just that said woman has been lounging on the beach in Cabo San Lucas with a couple of her best friends (both girls) for the past week.  I am sure that under her beach umbrella she is monitoring the GPS tracking device she had hidden in my car.  Thank God she is due home tomorrow.

There are those who are cut out for such a life but I am not among them.  To me there is a rhythm to a happy life.  That doesn’t mean living life in a rut and doing the same things over and over but it does mean certain constants must exist for the sake of stability.  One of those is your life partner. 

I love the rhythm of our home when she is present:  The sounds of the TV shows she watches, always happy shows with happy endings, and her voice as she talks almost daily with her sisters over the phone.  I love to watch her water her flowers.  I especially enjoy sitting down to dinner and chatting about the day and what’s going on with our kids.

Then there are the other things most of us men take for granted until she isn’t there.  Like weekend breakfasts.  Almost since day one of our life together she has, rain or shine, prepared the same Saturday and Sunday breakfast.  Eggs over easy, bacon, wheat toast, orange juice and coffee.  Once in a great while she will throw in a buckwheat pancake to jazz things up a bit and call it a pan-san but not often.  Sounds easy, right?  Every time she has taken one of her outings I face the same dilemma.  I get nervous just thinking about it.  How to do eggs over easy without breaking the yolks?  The past two weekends I was a perfect 8 for 8, 8 eggs, 8 broken yolks.  I ended up, as I always do, scrambling the eggs, pretending that was my intent all along.

Then there was the shock upon learning that my laundry does not automatically jump out of our hamper, into the washer, then the dryer and then fold itself.  I even had to get dressed, in case I might be seen by a neighbor, to go out and get the morning paper.  My life partner being an early riser, always has the paper neatly spread out next to my breakfast place setting. 

Like any man worth his salt, I could eventually get the hang of these things but some I could not master given from here to eternity, mainly, just having her near.  I love to have her close or close by.  I am thrilled that she can go on her trips with her close friends but there is comfort in knowing she will be home soon.  She knows me and who I am and she radiates strength and happiness.  It will be good to have her home.                 

STEVE

The recent passing of Steve Jobs bothered me more than the loss of any public figure in quite some time.  The outpouring of affection world wide left little doubt there were millions who felt the same way.  Why was his loss so moving?  I can only speak for myself but I feel quite sure there are many common threads among all of us who admired him.

I am sure I am not the only one who noted the irony of his passing coming at a time when there were protests in many major cities against, I’m not sure what, but seemingly targeting the evil “CORPORATIONS”.  There is no doubt that some small part of Steve’s being had a commonality with those in the streets but by the time you mixed in the rest of him you ended up with a different animal. 

To me he personified why it is critical to keep the entrepreneurial spirit alive in our country.  Why we can’t give in to the encouragement of mediocrity to the point where excelling is resented.  Steve and his partner started with an idea and little money.  Many, many others have started with an idea and little money.  Some make it and some don’t.  But I doubt if there is any single factor more important to our standing in the world today than the concept of having a CHANCE to reap the rewards that can come from hard work and the courage to take a risk. 

Steve certainly took risks.  Not all projects were winners.  He left his company for a spell and then returned to lead Apple to new heights.  He made a huge leap of faith in purchasing Pixar from which Toy Story and other high quality animated films changed the movie going habits of a generation of kids and their parents.  He fought a very public battle with cancer.  In the pursuit of his dreams he was very charitable and provided jobs for thousands of people. 

As the face of Apple we watched and admired as he launched product after product.  An entire generation of techies took his sense of low fashion to heart.  The faded levis, spectacles and black, mock turtle neck sweater he wore to introduce one razor thin, world changing gizmo after another, became Silicon Valley chic.  Board rooms and stock holders meetings looked like a gathering of skate boarders. 

His funky, against the grain, non-establishment computer appealed to the rebel in everyone.  The bite-out-of-the-apple logo a symbol of freedom of expression.  The i this and the i that changed the way music was played and people communicated and a visit to an Apple store became more energizing than a 5 hour energy drink. 

We should hope that our country NEVER loses whatever magic it has that encourages those from within as well as those who have immigrated here to give it their best shot.  All Steve asked for was the opportunity.  I never met the man but I feel like he was a friend.  I only wish we could have sat down for a cup of coffee.             

I AM A FAN

                                                                                      

I love football.  I loved playing it, I love watching it and the guys that play the game are my kind of guys.  It is my favorite sport.  But I like all sports.  I am a little slow coming around to curling, synchronized swimming and that sport where gymnasts twirl around a stick with a scarf attached to it, but even those have their appeal.  The reason they do is they have fans.

Fans can be anywhere from a lone parent watching a loved one compete on a cold, drizzly day, to a face painted maniac, dressed like a circus clown, and everywhere in between.  They can be encouraging or showing support for an individual or team at the local park or they can be full-on, early arriving tailgaters that stay well after the final lights are out.  They can also be sharing pizza, gathered around a friends TV set.  And like me, quite often, alone in front of my TV just as excited as if I was there.  

The point is they are in the game.  For a few moments they remove themselves from their everyday life long enough to lose it for a while.  During that time all that is important is enjoying a competitive event and whether your team wins or loses.  Everything else is out there somewhere but lost for the time being. 

I love it when I am watching a game and the camera settles on a group of fans who must have spent more time on make-up than the cast of the Wizard of Oz.  Yelling, screaming and carrying on.  If their family is watching I am sure they would deny knowing them.  How cool that people can let it all hang out for few hours.  It even spills over to water cooler talk about the great play made to save the day or the official’s horrendous call to cost your team. 

Granted there are those who cross the line into rather deviant behavior.  The soccer beer hooligans come to mind.  Mob behavior and destruction are their calling card if their team should lose.  To say alcohol may have been involved is a laughable understatement.  Death threats and worse dot the history of the sport as do payoffs and bribes. 

The passion inherent to any sport is subject to the same extremes as politics or religion.  The difference is the core of sports is a game.  Bruised feelings aside the worse that can happen is your teams wins or loses.  Nothing earth shattering.  This from a guy who wants to lock himself in a closet when his team loses.  But I do recover quickly and am there cheering loudly at the next game.  That’s the beauty of being a fan.

Fandom is the best therapy known to man or woman.  I am not a scientist or psychologist but I would venture to say NASCAR fans, tailgaters, fans of major sports such as hockey, basketball, baseball, football, soccer and all the other sports of any kind, come Monday morning are among the more balanced, stress relieved people on earth.  It’s all good.   

PEOPLE CAN BE CRUEL

There was an article in yesterday’s L.A. Times Magazine about a deaf football player.  I found it of great interest because he went to a local high school and is now a star player for UCLA and because I am also deaf.  His deafness was described as hearing virtually no sounds without the use of hearing aids, which describes mine as well.
 
While he has reached great success as an athlete it was his story of growing up that brought back many memories.  Specifically, the treatment he received from others.  He refers to kids calling him stupid and making fun of those things in his ears.  I remember well those kinds of comments and many more including “you talk funny”. 

While the experiences of Derrick Coleman and mine were very similar there was one difference.  He put on a pair of pantyhose over his hearing aids to protect them and hold them in place.  Being a bit older than Derrick the hearing aids I wore as a kid were held in the chest pocket of my shirt with cords running up to my ear pieces.  Thus when I played football I could not wear my hearing aids.  I had to rely 100% on lip reading.

Due to shyness at being seen with these hearing aids on and being very active in sports I often did not wear them at all.  As a result, as Derrick talks about, you do not enjoy being around people and become very quiet. 

The memory that came most to mind after reading the article was a painful one.  Our city had a very competitive flag football league.  I was the quarterback of the team and we had managed to win our league and advance to the championship game.  A few days before the big game the coach called me aside and said he was removing me from the team.  He explained to me that the other kids felt I was removed from them and aloof. 

I was crushed.  I cried as I told my Dad that night what had happened.  It still hurts today as much as it did then.  My Dad insisted that I be the bigger man and be on the sidelines to cheer my team on during the game, which I did.

I tell this story because it is good to be reminded that there are quite often very good reasons why people behave the way they do.  It behooves each of us to be understanding and compassionate.  While we are most certainly entitled to our own thoughts regarding others, I can’t think of many circumstances when making hurtful comments is justified.

In my own case if I was given a do-over I would not change anything.  God compensated me in so many ways I feel guilty.     

COLLEGE

I have always had reservations about our current college entrance requirements.  Partly because I know if I had to meet today’s requirements I would be up the proverbial creek but I also feel there is a grave injustice being done to a great many people. 

Maybe there are colleges somewhere that you can get into with a C average but I don’t know of any.  There are not too many where a B average will open the doors.  Most are requiring a 4.0 or better average.  The better comes from advanced level curriculums that pile points on top of the 4.0.  As if that average is not good enough the entrants are weighed against each other based on extracurricular activities.  If you were a member of the debate team, student council, cheer squad or volunteered to help the poor, your chances are greatly enhanced. 

All of this is fine and dandy but who is to say these people deserve a college education any more than any other student who displays the ability to do college level work.  I can understand businesses, law firms and others looking for the best and the brightest but there are some very talented people out there who may not have mastered the art of preparing for an exam but, given a college education, will do just fine thank you when it comes to competing in the real world.

The classes for the first two years of college are, for the most part, quite similar for everyone.  They are designed to give students a well rounded education in subjects that are basically an extension of their high school college prep classes.  EVERYONE that is capable of college level work should be entitled to this education.  It is in the last two years that the student takes classes that are specific to the major chosen.  Be it pre-law, pre-med or engineering these are the years a student zero’s in on their chosen field.

Depending on the field, there is most certainly a relationship between excellence achieved in the class room and the real world.  If I am lying on the operating table facing life saving surgery you can bet your bottom dollar I want a surgeon with a 4.infinity working on me.  But there are just as many careers in art, advertising, restaurants, computers and others where creativity and hard work will win hands down over a gifted student nine ways from Sunday. 

Private enterprise is loaded with C students and college drop outs.  Most leaders have a natural ability to get along with people and get the most out of them.  These things cannot be taught in the class room.  Picasso was destined for greatness no matter what.  So was Mark Twain. 

Don’t get me wrong, I am not saying a college degree is not a worthy goal, I am saying because it is we have to figure out a way to spread entrance acceptance around evenly to those qualified. 

WAVES

As I do every morning, I was enjoying a hot cup of Donut House coffee while browsing through the Daily Pilot, our local newspaper.  Given that our town is located around a beautiful harbor and has miles of beaches, there is much coverage of salt water related happenings, which is of interest to  sailors, fishermen, surfers, beachgoers and others.  This particular morning the Daily Pilot was reporting a storm In New Zealand was sending huge waves our way. 

A quick check with Google tells me New Zealand is 6,882 miles by sea from Southern California.  
Visualizing throwing a pebble in a lake and watching the ripples pulse off toward the other side I tried to imagine a wave rolling across the Pacific Ocean and maintaining any size.  The pebble would have to be a rock the size of the moon.  But these waves were obviously not sent on their journey by a pebble but by a winter storm.  What kind of wrath had God unleashed in New Zealand that had the force to push water some 6,882 miles and still muster the strength to pulverize the distant shore?

I drove down to a bluff overlooking a spot along the beach we call The Wedge.  So named because waves marching from the south wedge themselves between a rock jetty and a sandy beach, creating a peak affect that can turn an already large wave into a snarling monster.  These waves usually arrive in sets of four with brief periods of relative calm between sets. 

From my perch on the bluff I could see these lines of waves approaching the beach.  I tried to imagine their journey.  I would guess the birthplace of the storm was on the Antarctic side of New Zealand.  Whatever stirred the pot there created such havoc that mountains of water said to themselves “I’m out’ a here” and headed north. 

Save for Tahiti, Hawaii and a smattering of other small islands, it was clear sailing for these waves all the way to California.  Mid ocean they represent little more than a gentle rise as they pass beneath fishing boats, sail boats, freighters and cruise ships.  With God given instincts ocean birds watch respectfully from high above as they glide by. 

As they move over the horizon and approach shore the lines become more definitive and as the water becomes shallower the ocean bottom begins to tug on the lower reaches of the wave.  This tugging causes the surface water to begin to move forward.  As the majestic wave reaches shore the surface water says “Thanks for the ride” and hurls itself forward. 

At the Wedge there is a squeezing of this water into such a small area that the only place for the additional tons of water to go is straight up.  What may have been a 10 to 12 foot wave on a normal sandy beach is suddenly jacked up to 20 feet plus.  As all this water catapults upward and then forward it creates this magnificent sight and sound only God can create.  I scream to myself “Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah”!        

SUMMERS END

In tradidional terms Labor Day is the end of the summer season.  Don't go all scientific on me and tell me the autumnal equinox is September 23 and thus the end of summer and the beginning of fall.  If you are a kid growing up all you know is school starts just after Labor Day and that's it for summer.  End of story. 

God I hated going back to school.  I had not worn shoes for a couple of months, gone to bed late every night and slept till whenever, sand and the beach everyday and had this bronze tan look of a south sea islander and my hair had been bleached blond by the sun.  It would generally take me until Thanksgiving to quit pouting and get with the program.

There are only two good things about September.  One is it is the beginning of football season and the other is, if you live in southern California, it is the best fishing month of the year.  Football needs no explanation to any red blooded human being but fishing does.  Conditions are optimal for most offshore migratory game fish.  Ocean water temperatures are ideal, the weather is mild and boat traffic has dwindled considerably. 

Then there is Avalon.  This tiny little harbor and town on Catalina Island is a paradise.  Anchored in this beautiful harbor, some 26 miles from the mainland populated by millions of people, it is as if you are on a different planet.  To arrive here after a days fishing with your family, take a shore boat ashore for dinner, listen to a little music at one of the bars then fall asleep under the stars is the equivalent to getting the paddles to jump-start your heart.

So as much as I dread the arrival of Labor Day I must say I have had some of my most memorable family days in September.  Whether it is on the run home from the fishing grounds or returning from Avalon on a late Sunday afternoon, I have been reminded many, many times that it is not what you do it is who you do it with.  Then, as now, I would not trade places with anyone.          

ROLE MODELS

   
  Whether we like it or not if we are an adult we are a role model.  You cannot deny this fact if you watched the Little League World Series this past week.  Watching these mostly 12 year olds was like watching a major league game.  The skill level was obviously different but not much else. 

These kids had all the moves.  You could watch them in the batter’s box and tell who their favorite player is.  While waiting for a pitch some had a hitch in their swing, some held the bat out towards the pitcher; others crouched or pumped their elbow up and down and some stood with their forward foot way back in the batter’s box until the pitcher was well into his wind up before bringing his foot forward.  Any half baked baseball fan would recognize all these moves as the spitting image of many star major league players.  And speaking of spitting, most were spitting continually.  What they were spitting is beyond me because I did not see any chewing tobacco.  Thank God. 

Even in their interviews on TV the kids had all the jargon of grizzled veterans.  The boy who drove in the winning run speaking into the camera as millions watched explained “The ball felt good coming off the bat”.  What!!!  Tell me that is not something Gary Jeter would say, not some 12 year old kid. 

Further proof of the “role model” pudding was the personality of the two teams.  As you watched for a while you noticed all the players took on the persona of their respective coaches.  The Japanese coach was very outgoing, filled with laughter and always smiling.  Then you noticed all his players were laughing and smiling their way through the entire game.  They even smiled when they struck out. 

The American coach was much the opposite.  He was like maybe it wasn’t cool to smile.  He was very serious and showed little emotion.  Guess what, his players were all the same.  Although I must say they went bananas when the winning run crossed the plate.  In stark contrast to the losing Japanese team who, within seconds of the end of the game, lined up stoically at attention, facing the field, tears streaming down their faces.

My point is, if you are an adult and particularly if you are a parent, someone is watching.  They may just absorb your day to day conduct as a friend, boss or parent.  Or they may be on the receiving end of your lessons on how to live life.  In either case the old “Do as I say, not as I do”, finishes a distant second to teaching by example.  As is the case with the little league baseball players, what you do is “cool” to those you influence.  Live your life accordingly.      

MOM

I think about my Mom quite often.  Like almost every day.  I know this is quite natural because there is no more unique and special person in one’s life than their mother.  You may not think so when you are growing up and they seem to fail to understand that you really don’t need any help navigating your way to adulthood.  Then, later in life when you are raising your own family, you become acutely aware of how special mothers are. 

While raising your family there is nothing you are doing that your mother didn’t do for you.  Staying up with you at night while suffering from an ear ache, changing diapers, feeding you and getting you dressed.  You weren’t always the big person you are now.  Then the teen years, God help mothers during the teen years. 

I bring this up because my Mom and I were very close.  I was fortunate enough to marry, raise our family and live all of her life within ear shot, for which I will always be grateful.  My Dad was the source of untold number of lessons that have helped me along the way, my Mom provided me priceless core values.  I believe in my heart I was a good son.  But since her leaving us I have lived with the nagging feeling that I should have done more during the last year of her life.

A good friend of mine who was Mom’s doctor called and told me tests had confirmed she had ovarian cancer.  The following months there were countless visits to doctor’s offices, labs, and hospitals.  These were followed with months of chemo and radiation treatment.  Never, never a word of complaint or a “Why me?” 

In her own quiet way Mom was as strong and tough as any human being I have ever known.  She fought as best she could but was losing ground.  It was during the last month of her life that I now realize I should have done more.  Just as in my childhood I was oblivious to all a mother does, the same can be said of this phase of her life.  Not for lack of love or caring, I just was not tuned in like I should have been to someone whose life was ending.  I thought I was but I wasn’t. 

The reasons are too numerous to enumerate here but there was one particular evening that stands out crystal clear to me and speaks volumes about what she was going through.  We had finished  dinner and then chatted about various things.  She was not much for small talk so if she did decide to talk it was a special time.  Shortly after the nurse arrived that would spend the night with her, I tucked her into bed and was getting ready to leave.  She grabbed my hand and said “I wish you could stay.”  I explained that I had to get home to my family and I left.  From that day until now I have not felt good about leaving that night. 

If somehow God would grant me a do-over I would not have left her side from that moment on for the short time she had left.  Lord knows I have a wife who would have said “Do whatever you want to do” had I asked. 

She was a great lady who possessed more kindness in her little finger than most people will ever have in a lifetime. 

 

   

THE PRIVILEGED

Recently I have heard President Obama and Timothy Geithner use the term “privileged” when referring to those they feel should be carrying a larger share of the load than they already are.  I looked the word up on Dictionary.com and found the following definitions: 1. belonging to a class that enjoys special privileges; favored: the privileged few.  2. entitled to or exercising a privilege.  President Obama and Mr. Geithner have deemed people privileged by having exceeded a certain level of annual income.

Setting aside those that won the lottery, inherited a fortune or benefited from some other stroke of good fortune; I feel there are certain characteristics germane to this group they call privileged.  Somewhere along the line they made the decision to take whatever steps necessary to improve their lot in life.  Maybe, through education, they prepared themselves for a desired career or improved their worth in the job market.  In the pursuit of that education they surely missed out on many fun things others were doing.  If they were not fortunate enough to have family help, they may have worked two jobs and weekends, taken night classes, often taking years to achieve their educational goals. 

Maybe they saved their money, started a business in their garage and rolled the dice on an idea they had.  I am sure taking risks is common among these people.  Funny thing is, when you take risks it doesn’t always work out.  Maybe your idea was not a good one or trends, fashions or tastes changed and what was a booming business goes in the tank.  You had a good thing going for a while, made a decent income, provided jobs for some people then all of a sudden it’s all gone, your home, retirement fund, savings, everything you ever worked for.  Nobody passes the hat for you.  You’re on your own.  Failure is common among those that take risks.  But so are perseverance and the desire to get off the floor and try again. 

More power to those content with a 9-5 job, weekends and holidays off and a nice, paid vacation every year.  I am sure they have enjoyed many of the truly important things in life that others miss out on.  There is much to be said for never missing a birthday party, first at bat or graduation.  Not everyone is cut out for nor desires the stress and long hours demanded of others pursuing their dreams. 

Those that put in long hours to excel at their chosen line of work and the business owner that does not have the luxury of clocking out at 5 on Friday afternoon, know the price they pay and are willing to make the effort.  Call them industrious, driven, determined, ambitious and often lucky, but don’t call them privileged.  In most cases, whatever they have achieved, they have earned.             

DAD'S APPROVAL

I was watching Friday Night Lights, one of my all times favorite TV shows the other night.  It happened to be their final episode after a pretty good run.  As most shows that have been successful, Friday Night Lights was being given the dignity of a series ending show as opposed to being axed and disappearing with no word of explanation from the network.  Given that luxury the show was tying up loose ends among the many fantastic characters they had developed during the series.

One of these loose ends was an on again off again relationship between Matt, a local high school football star and Julie, the daughter of Matt’s football coach.  After graduating from high school Matt had moved away to Chicago to pursue a career in art, thus initiating the off again portion of the relationship.  Julie had gone to a small Texas college and left no doubt as to the off again part.    

In this show they hook up again in their home town, Dillon, Texas and Matt gets down on one knee to propose to Julie on the sidewalk in front of a restaurant.  She says yes.  Then he tells her he wants to do things the right way and ask her father for her hand in marriage.  Julie strongly objects but Matt goes ahead with his plan.  Her father goes ballistic and says something about hell freezing over.  Matt says he is over 18 and his doesn’t need his permission anyway.  The show ends with there being little doubt that Julie and Matt will wed.

This brought back memories for me.  Many moons ago, on a blind date, I met this vivacious blond babe with the most gorgeous smile I had ever seen.  I sensed before we met that this was THE ONE.  I proposed on our third date.  She said yes.  Then, being the gentleman I am, I let Terry (the blond babe) know that I would be coming to her house to ask her Dad for her hand in marriage. 

To set the stage for you, Terry is from a good Catholic family and the second oldest of nine kids.  They lived in a small, 2 story, 3 bedroom house.  Her mother and father lived in the only downstairs bedroom while the 9 kids shared the rooms upstairs.  There was a stairway, off the dining room that led to their rooms.

I arrived about 8 o’clock on the big night.  I won’t say I was nervous; apprehensive might be a better word.  Terry welcomed me into the living room where I sat facing his honor.  For some reason I felt the need to engage in some meaningless banter while building up my courage.  Finally, mid-sentence, while talking about who knows what, I said “I would like to marry your daughter and would love to have your approval”.  While I am sure he relished holding my feet to the fire, Joe (Terry’s father) graciously granted his approval and said he would be proud to welcome me into their family.  While I had not been in doubt about the outcome I was very relieved that this was over and content with myself that I, like Matt, had done the proper, manly thing.      

I was to find out later that the rest of the family was lined up on the stairway out of sight, listening to the entire conversation.         

AM I THE ONLY ONE?

Am I the only one a little bewildered by the high tech world we live in today.  Granted I did not grow up in a world where we became computer savvy by kindergarten, had a cell phone when we were 8 or had all manner of things plugged into our ears.  When you grow up with things you have a way of learning them without even making an effort.  Not so when you are on the shady side of the hill trying to cram yourself with the knowledge necessary to keep pace with a generation personified by a baby in a TV commercial, wearing diapers, standing in a crib and talking in a deep, man’s voice about his portfolio.  When someone has that kind of a head start on me how am I supposed to catch up?

I guess, at my stage in life, what I am trying to figure out is what is worth learning in the tech world and what is fluff.  By fluff I mean that which would be nice to know or amuse myself with but is not really necessary to stay competitive in today’s business climate.  In other words, with the time I have available what should I be concentrating on to keep pace. 

About 5 years ago I read a quote by a woman (whose name I can’t remember) who was head of one of the larger computer related companies in the world.  She said “Within 5 years, if you are not computer literate it will be the equivalent to not knowing how to read and write”.  If we aren’t there, we are close.  But that just scratches the surface.  Even if we attain an “expert” rating in computers that does not necessarily translate to business success. 

I guess what I am wondering is how do we take this magical tool our generation has been blessed with and use it to most advance our cause, be it intellectual or financial?  That’s where I am stuck.  As things advance so rapidly that today’s hot idea is tomorrow’s old news, how do we hitch a ride with a rising star and avoid a fizzling star.  Think back over the past decade and all the companies that were the cat’s meow that are now history. 

Much smarter men and women than I have spent years studying how to maximize their marketing efforts in this media mad world.  Companies have gotten wiser, first sticking their toe in the waters and now committing fully to Twitter, Facebook, You Tube and a host of other gizmos in an effort to sell their wares.  There must be a method to the madness.

I guess I can start with my own little blog here and learn how to maximize my readership and following with graphics, feeds, links and other tricks.  That will give me some of the basics that I can build on.  To be honest, part of me enjoys committing my thoughts to a blog even if no one took interest but the other part of me is fascinated by the ocean of opportunity out there if I just get it together and apply myself.  First my blog, then the world.