I used to blog

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Crazy things can happen when a man’s family leaves town for a month.

Culinary arts take a leap backwards as macaroni and cheese becomes a dietary staple and the joy of turning breakfast food into dinner is rediscovered.

Long standing theories are proven – DVR’s actually CAN record shows other than the Bachelorette, Real Housewives of New Jersey and Oprah.

Farm animals, stuffed animals, race car drivers, and all toys are allowed to roam free of their constraining boxes for hours - no DAYS at a time.  I know when I leave the house they thank me for it (or I might just have watched Toy Story one to many times).

Everything in a home becomes multifunctional — Rockers become hangers … arm rests become hangers … beds become .… ok well maybe everything just becomes a hanger.

Appliances which are so used to being used once and then immediately returned to their very orderly spots in the kitchen cabinets — enjoy seeing the light of the day … and the next day … and the next day…

And sometimes people unexpectedly start a blog.

And just when everything seems to be going well.…..

Shoes laugh as they trip you on your way to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

Bills rejoice at being able to stay whole - unopened — in the comfort of your home.

Certain items of clothing disappear from your drawers and sneer at you from all corners of your home as you face the decision “Should I or shouldn’t I”

The Silence actually keeps you AWAKE.

And thankfully right when it’s about to get out of control — my family returns.

Now that the circus is back in town and life is once again in full swing — the blog cries for attention.….

A huge thanks goes to all those who through their comments, emails, and simply just clicks to my website, made the first few weeks of this blogging experience so worthwhile and rewarding and in turn made being home all alone not as lonely.

I still haven’t figured out what this blog is going to be “about” — (maybe I got a bit to personal to start out) — but this is the warning that new postings are on the way.

Circle of Life

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The Circle of Life.….

Anyone else wonder what beyond being the name of an Elton John song in a movie about lions — what the heck does that mean?

I have.  And quite frankly when I’ve heard that phrase I’ve thought:  “What a crock of .…”

This “circle of life” stuff just wasn’t a life experience I could relate too.

I never thought about these things when I was 16 and just the youngest member of a family of four.  Who does?  But, when 22 rolls around and the family four is down to just two — you and your Dad — you tend to be left with the feeling that life and all its unpredictability offers you only one certainty —  that with or without you it’s going to keep moving forward.

In fact, in order to just survive, there’s time’s when you have to focus and use all of your strength to grip that belief of moving forward and use it to pull yourself out of bed.

In my life, all hope for circles aside — the straight lines of  birth — life — death — just didn’t bend.  Life and all if its love and happiness, all of its sorrow and pain, all if its persisting and enduring — for better or worse — if there was a circle in there somewhere —  I was seemingly left out of it.

And then something happened.

Something happened that made me realize that God or whomever is doing the artwork down here doesn’t draw in straight lines.

It was a moment that made me realize that just as you have to do your best to be prepared for the unexpected turns and inevitability of loss — you better keep your heart open and be ready for the moment that life comes back around and offers you a rebirth.

Because through it all — one day — whether you are ready or not — it might even be offered to you to hold.

I have a feeling that’s what my Dad was thinking too.

No More Boxes — What About a Bucket?

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How do you follow a post about a box?  

With a Bucket?

Yesterday I saw this article on former President Clinton.  The President noted that he’s now old enough to be the third wheel with Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson if they ever remade the movie “The Bucket List” and he’s now thinking of putting together a bucket list of his own.  I was a bit surprised because I thought after scratching these items off of his list:

1) Find a way to smoke Marijuana without inhaling

2) Become the leader of the free world

3) Find the true meaning of what the word “is” is

I didn’t think he would have anything left to accomplish.

In any case, it got me thinking:  “Enough about my boxes — what about my bucket!?”

So here’s a list of things that are on my bucket list.  I’d love to hear if there’s something I should add or delete — or even better —  what’s on yours.

Never let fear of “failure” stop me from doing anything.

Should I have jumped into that ring?  Should I have picked up that cape?  

Who knows. Who Cares.   

What is more important - Would I ever have forgiven myself if I didn’t?

I can’t think of a worse place to be then in bed, alone with my thoughts, knowing I am about to leave this world  … and spending that time thinking “If I only…”

Have a home where everyone feels welcome.

I grew up in a very small house in Ft. Lauderdale.  Our friends called it the “guest house” because it was surrounded by much larger homes. (It was actually bulldozed a few years ago  …  to build a larger home).  It didn’t have a pool table or an entertainment room or anything really fancy but inside lived a crazy woman who wanted anyone who walked into her house to feel as if it was their home too.  To this day I’m still amazed when I meet someone and after a few minutes of conversation they say, “Hey, wait a second… I was at your house!  You guys hid the key under the front bay window and had a dock in the back! I think your Mom baked me cookies at 2 in the morning!  Great times!”

Take an Epic Family Vacation:

 

Climb Mount Kilimanjaro

Dam that Hemingway!  He even has me wanting to climb mountains.  Better get moving as pretty soon there might not be any more snows on Kilimanjaro.

See the Pyramids

This is one of those “see the wonders of the world” things.  I’m working on it.

Be the father that’s never afraid to say “I love you. I’m proud of you.”

I don’t know why some men — and fathers — just can’t get those words out.  I don’t know how to explain what it has meant to my life that my father is not one of those men.

Be the kind of father that my son knows will always be there for him.

Growing up I knew I couldn’t do anything and get away with it and I definitely knew that I couldn’t ask for ask anything and get it.  But, I never had any doubt in my mind that if I ever really needed help — if I ever really needed someone to pick me up and help put the pieces back together — my parents would be there without hesitation.

Ride the Trans-Siberian Railway

What interests me about a 6000 + mile voyage across Russia and 8 time zones that can take up to two weeks?  I don’t know.  I don’t even like Vodka.   But I’m a quick learner and when in Siberia.…

Learn to Speak a Foreign Language

Unfortunately I am the poster child for all those who say that Americans live in other countries and don’t learn the language.

When I lived in Paris I was always faced with very difficult decisions:

Go run with the bulls or stay in town and learn French?  

Go to Germany and drink beer at Oktoberfest or learn French?  

Go to the French Riviera and stare at beautiful women or learn French?

The language training just couldn’t catch a break.  I hope that changes one day.

Learn to play an instrument

When I was in 2nd grade I went to two piano lessons.  I think the only reason I went to the second is because my Mom paid up front for two sessions.  To me there just wasn’t enough tackling in Piano.

When I was in college, there was one bar (that I went to after I turned 21) where this young guy played the Piano and held the attention of every single woman within 50 yards. I wanted to tackle him.

Neither one of those feelings was probably right.  It’s never too late to try to find a happy medium.

Take batting practice at Fenway Park.

I want a wooden bat called “Wonderboy” with a lightning bolt carved in it — a storm front rolling in — and the green light to swing away.

Complete the Ironman Triathlon

So I could just say — get my butt back in shape — but if you’re going to set a goal that’s going to hurt  - as in swim 2.4 miles, bike 112 miles, and THEN run a marathon type of hurt (see the video) you might as well at least get a trip to Hawaii out of it.

Stop biting my fingernails (NO PICTURE!!!)

I know its disgusting.  That’s why I want to stop!

Again — unless your my wife and you’re going to tell me that “I’m never climbing that D** Mountain! and  “Don’t think I’m ever riding that train!” 

I’d love to hear YOUR thoughts!

A Life in a Box.

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There’s not a lot that is fun about being home alone when your wife and son are across the country.

The sleep is fabulous!

Other than that I guess you finally get to do the things you’ve been meaning to do if you “only had time.”  At the very least, you lose your excuse for not doing them.

Of course one of those tasks is to “clean house.”   Which is fine, until it inevitably leads me to come face to face with one box …

See this one box has been tucked away in a corner of my house for quite some time. Before that in another house, and before that another.  It’s covered with dust from each of those places and undeniably takes up space.

I haven’t opened it in years — I don’t need to —  I know what’s inside.

I know if you dusted off the top and lifted the lid you would find it’s filled to the brim with milestones marked by a loving mother: the first smile … the first crawl … the first words …  the first cut strands of a young boys hair … the first tooth to fall out of his little mouth … if you look closely enough at the picture you’ll see his very first pair of shoes.

I know you would find a little blue bracelet that delicately wrapped around his little newborn baby wrists …  a candle from his baptism … a tassel from his graduation … and I’m pretty sure you would find a pair of his favorite baseball cleats that still have some clay stuck to the bottom of them.

I know if you cracked that box open you would find awards for accomplishments that at the time meant so much and heartfelt congratulations for reaching all of life’s little milestones:  First Communion … turning TEN! … becoming a teenager … getting a license.

I know there’s scribbled lines on colored paper that were masterpieces in the eyes of the artist’s parents … and letters they were thrilled to receive when that little boy grew up and went off to college.

Yes, the letters … that box holds a lot of letters both written and received.

Some just words on scrap pieces of paper so they could be passed without notice in school.

Several that contain the wisdom that can only come from a father — and though I’m sure that each word was so carefully considered by the author and some of that wisdom was taken to heart by its reader —  I am certain most of it just couldn’t put a dent in the infallible knowledge that every eighteen year old thinks they possess.

I know you would find a whole heap of “love” letters … a few where he poured his young heart out on the page to women he hoped would return the sentiment  …  others to convince women he had no intention of loving for an extended period of time that he felt just as they did  …  and too many to count in the handwriting of the one woman he truly loved at the very end.

In that box there are traces of all the heartbreak, triumphs and failures that an eighteen year old boy can have and dreams of a future that were not to be …  because in that box there is also the cold record of how and why that life is no longer here too.

It’s amazing that in the end all of that can fit in a box … and I can tell you that for a very short period of time it stored that young man’s scent too.

But, the truth is, if you think about what size container you think your family would need to store all of the things that would remind them that you were here once too —  whatever size you choose — you’re wrong.

Because I know that all the things that matter — all the proof that I need to know there was a life here once — that meant something — that I loved — that I called “bro” — can’t be found in a box.

All the “only things that are left” that truly matter — I carry with me everyday.

I don’t need to open that box —  but don’t think for a second I’ll ever throw it out.

The Sound A Politician Makes When Squeezed.

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Skeleton of First Politican Found

 

So there I was last night, having a nice glass of wine after a long day of work, still thrilled by all of the wonderful comments everyone sent after my last post, and thinking: 

1) “Ok you have another 364 days until your Anniversary — better think of something else to write about!” 

2)  How can I answer some of the questions and comments people sent my way after my post about the difference between a “politician” and a “public servant?” 

Well, a few minutes later I clicked on the link to the local political blog of my newspaper and disappointed — enjoyment of my glass of wine soured — I was unfortunately handed a pretty good example of what a politician sounds like. 

Now let me preface this by saying I don’t know Mr. Angelo Castillo.  I don’t believe I’ve ever met him.  Normally, I would absolutely agree that would disqualify me from making any sort of observation about him. 

However, what I do know is he’s running for office — and when you’re a candidate for office — the opinion of that guy or gal out there that knows nothing about you — is actually pretty important.  Furthermore, I’m not going to use anything other than Mr. Castillo’s own words. 

Long story short Mr. Castillo is a democrat campaigning to be elected as a County Commissioner in Broward County, Florida.  He has close ties with a Ms. Judy Stern, a very “powerful” lobbyist in the County.  At some point, Mr. Castillo’s wife worked for Ms. Stern.  A lobbyist of course is someone who is hired by special interests to influence legislation or votes by public officials.  Ms. Stern lobbies — of all places — the Broward County Commission.  It’s widely believe that Ms. Stern is working for Mr. Castillo’s campaign and working very hard to get him elected. 

Now of course none of that is criminal, but when in the last few months those of us who live here have picked up our papers and one week seen this: 

 

And a few weeks later seen this: 

 

And you realize 1) those are not pictures for the society pages and 2) there’s two empty seats at each Broward County Commission meeting — you tend to start questioning people’s ethics and character. 

So, in an interview with an editor of our local paper and the reporter that covers the County Commission, Mr. Castillo was presented with a great opportunity to convince everyone that he’s something different when he was asked a very simple question — Is Judy Stern working on your campaign?  The question and answer are at the 1:21 mark. 

 

Ugghhhh.…. 

Maybe it’s unfair that I’m holding Mr. Castillo to a higher standard.  Mr. Castillo might have a spotless record.  He might be the most independent minded candidate to ever run for office in Broward County. 

But did that answer prove to be anything different from what we’ve all heard and seen in the past? 

Until someone actually stands up and says, 

“In fact, I’m not a very independent person.  I’m pretty much in the pocket of my party and a dozen or so very powerful people.” 

Or —  “Frankly this has nothing to do with the people.” 

Or — “I know that human being and fish can coexist peacefully” … wait a second scratch that one someone’s already said that (video below to lighten this up a little!). 

I think people are at the point now that we assume that’s what every candidate’s really saying until their actions prove otherwise. 

It’s the little decisions you make in life …

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I’m a big believer that it’s not just the little things you say and do in life that make all the difference, but it’s the little decisions you make — the one’s you don’t even stop to think about — that often have the biggest impact on your life.

For instance .…

Though it might have been due to those big over-arching reasons that I ended up in Europe — you know the kind — a longing to “see the world” — wanting “to get away” — looking for “a new start” — it was the few small and insignificant decisions that put me on a plane whose destination was Malaga, Spain.

It was the last second decision I made while heading home from class one afternoon to turn around and walk over to my university’s study abroad office to check one last time on my application to study in Madrid.

It was the casual decision I made to pick up a brochure that caught my eye when the counselor disappeared to check on my paperwork.  There within its pages was the description of this rather small university town named Granada, in Andalusia Spain, nestled at the foot of the Sierra Nevada mountains with an old palace called the Alhambra perched on a hill to keep an eye on the revellers below.

It was the impulsive decision I made to tell that very same counselor when she returned, “Actually, I think I’ve changed my mind.  I want to go here.” (Big smile, finger-pointing at the Alhambra.)

The problem is you can’t really time insignificant and thoughtless decisions.  It was now December — not a very good month to be applying to spring programs that started in January — and though my application was approved, it was turned in so late that when I arrived in Spain all they had on file for me was “Charles Burpee” and “Male”.  I literally beat my paperwork across the ocean.

Furthermore, the impromptu nature of my decision-making process also meant that I missed the opportunity to catch the connecting flight from London to Spain with everyone else from the group.

So there I was, on January 6, 1999, sitting in a small airport in Malaga, Spain, anxiously watching the changes on a large board showing the arrival of flights …  and completely oblivious to the fact that my life was about to change forever…

Finally, after a couple of hours, the arrivals board blinked first and “landed” flashed in front of my eyes.    Just at that moment the director and program leaders from my study abroad program (AIFS) arrived and showed me the way to the bus that was to take us to Granada.   Bags loaded, and wanting to be back in the airport to meet all those who were about to embark on this Spanish adventure with me, I ditched the bus.  Hustling back, I reached the entrance — impatiently waited and watched as the sliding door opened and …

there she was.…

I’ve often been asked what it was that made me hurry on over to her and ask if she needed help with her bags.

There were several reasons, but if I had to list a few of them I’d probably say:

  1. I thought she was absolutely beautiful
  2. My Momma raised me right
  3. I thought she was absolutely beautiful

But maybe the most significant reason was — I had never seen anything like it!

What was she thinking when she was packing!?  Did she leave anything at home?!  Was she moving to Spain!?

I literally thought of that scene in the movie “Spaceballs” where they’re struggling to walk through the desert and dying because of  having to carry the Princess’s luggage only to find out that the whole time they’d been lugging around a huge Blow Dryer.

And I didn’t know it at the time but there it was .…

Some young woman from California — all the way across the country from Washington DC — had also made one thoughtless, seemingly insignificant, yet life changing decision as well.

A lot of time has passed since that moment and through the years I’ve been blessed to be able to help that same woman carry her bags through an awful lot of airports.  There’s a whole history of just not wanting to let go  — of long-awaited hugs and kisses and quite a few tearful goodbyes —  in terminals all over this world.  Now, as we rush to our gate to catch the next plane the usual baggage has been replaced by baby strollers and diaper bags.

And every now and then when the time comes that she has to take a flight without me —  I’ll peek my head into our bedroom right before any luggage is zipped just to make sure that everything is ok.

See there’s just one decision she’s never allowed to make again — and that’s to overpack.

A small decision like that can change people’s lives.

(Happy Anniversary Gina - I love you)

Enough about your life — where’s the Politics?

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So my life as a “blogger” is now into its second week.  

One lesson I have definitely learned is - if you plan on writing about whatever comes to mind — you’re going to be led to some pretty strange places. 

If you were to have polled my friends two weeks ago and asked them to guess what I was going to write about, I bet almost everyone would have said “politics.”  They certainly would have never have said, his dog, bulls, and an octopus. 

In fairness to them that makes sense.  Anyone that knows me is well aware that I’ve been bitten by the “bug.”  I’m a big believer in the virtue of public service — in the honor of working for your communities — and have always felt it’s partly my responsibility to not just fight back against the stereotypes made about “politicians” but, to the annoyance of my friends, do my part in telling others just how important it is that they too get involved.    I’ve spent a good part of my professional career either in an office on Capitol Hill or on the front lines of political campaigns.  Heck, I even ran for office once (No link!)  

And yet there might not be another topic I want to write about less.…

Is there any profession that seems less appealing these days?  

Is there a group of people in any profession that seem to stand less for good character, ethical behavior and integrity?   

Let’s just use the recent behavior of our Governor’s as an example.  They’re the “Chief Executives.”  Our standard bearers of leadership and quality decision making, right?

Let’s see … you have one Governor who snuck into hotel rooms as his “personal failings” led him to become a high paying customer of a prostitution ring and one whose soul mate led him to disappear into the Appalachian Mountains (apparently those are in Argentina).  You have another Governor who was forced to resign after trying to sell an open Senate seat in his state and for making comments like this (caution: graphic language) and another who went “rogue” and quit half-way through her term so she could better manager her facebook page (where she apparently makes all her announcements) and cash in on her popularity.  Heck, you even have a Governor who just can’t quite blame the oil spill on BP — he’d rather blame it on God first and then gather the facts (link).

Unfortunately, I could keep going — that’s just a sample.  Unfortunately, I could have filled more space with the mug shots of the local officials of the County in which I reside - Broward County, Florida

Can anyone tell me what’s inspiring about the leadership of those individuals? 

Anyone want to stand up and defend THAT?

Does that seem like something you would want to write about?

The silver lining for me is that I’m proud to have spent the majority of professional career working for the former Governor and Senator of the State of Florida, Bob Graham.  I still work for him today.  I don’t care what party you’re registered as, you’re not going to find any links to legitimate accusations of unethical behavior, actions taken solely due to extreme non-sensical partisanship, or his mug-shot. 

I appreciate now that the best thing he’s ever taught me is that there’s a huge difference between “politics” and “public service” and a BIG difference between being a “politician” and a “public servant.”

It’s the latter that interests me. 

So take this as my warning that you’re not out of the woods yet .…

¡Viva Espana! Why Spain Will Win the World Cup!

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How do I know that Spain will win the World Cup?

You might think it’s because you could never bet against a country that eats every part of its national animal.

I’ll let you guess what part of the bull this came from.

But no, it’s because of the brain power and psychic predictions of a future piece of calamari — Octopus Paul.  Click here for the video watched by millions around the world.

He’s now 7 for 7 picking the winners — and who am I to argue with that?

¡Viva Espana!

Did I choose the wrong Buffett? Jimmy or Warren — who is Better?

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Last night something very unsettling happened.  Cup of coffee in hand (yes at all hours of the day) and computer screen on, I was browsing through the news and stories of the day when an article caught my attention.   I clicked on the link, started to read, and was struck by this thought:

Have I been following the wrong Buffett?

All this time — should I have been listening and learning from him:

Instead of hanging on every word of this guy:

What would have happened if instead of spending all the energy I did looking for my “lost shaker of salt” and a mystical place called Margaritaville —  I had gone looking for deals in the stock market in a real one called Wall Street?  Would I be “richer?”

What would have happened if instead of going to Paris looking for answers, I skipped the french wine and cheeses —  moved to Nebraska — and ate steak and potatoes with the Oracle of Omaha?  Would I be more ambitious?

What if I had been less impressed by guys named Captain Tony, last mango’s in Paris and the “twelve volt man” —  and had a greater interest in men like Benjamin Graham, value investing and Mr. Market?  Would I be more knowledgeable?

What would have happened if I had been less “contented to be livin and dyin in three-quarter time” and more pleased and thrilled with quarterly financial reports?  Would I be more “successful?”

I leaned back in my stool, took a sip from my coffee, and thought … Naaaah!!

BUT, that other Buffett won a few points last night.  Remember the article?  Well, after all of his life experiences, all of the people he has met and the money he has made, what is the most profound piece of advice Warren Buffett has ever received? (Video)

“The power of unconditional love. I mean, there is no power on earth like unconditional love. And I think that if you offered that to your child, I mean you’re 90 percent of the way home. There may be days when you don’t feel like it, it’s not uncritical love, that’s a different animal, but to know you can always come back, that is huge in life. That takes you a long, long way. And I would say that every parent out there that can extend that to their child at an early age, it’s going to make for a better human being.

It’s not “if we couldn’t laugh we would all go insane”… but of all the “Buffett” things I can give my son right now — that one sounds just about right to me.

The Teaching of the Bulls

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So I never thought that I’d be blogging nor would I have ever guessed that my first posts would be about dogs and bulls.  So I promise to whomever  is reading this that before you know it I will bore you with a post about life at work.

In the meantime, yesterday I was so eloquently asked by someone whether running with the bulls was “bravery or stupidity.”  Fair question. Yet, because that question was actually raised by Mother-in-Law, (and because real men blog about their mother-in-laws) I must respond!

I will say that after I carefully removed my red sash and packed it in my suitcase … after I struggled to peel off and discard the tattered and torn red wine soaked white pants that I had worn for a length a time that I dare not mention  … after I made the discovery that the mixture of sangria and andrenaline  — though good for any immediate need for courage — leaves you rather helpless once it has run its course through your body …   I still carry with me the lessons I learned from the Bulls.

I learned once again that life can be a pain in the butt.

That often times in life when trouble and challenges come your way — a lot of people will step aside (and maybe even use you as cover) rather than face it head on.

But you can’t hide from your problems.   Wherever you are they will find you:

You can’t just lie down and wait for someone else to pick you up.

You have to pick yourself up - and when you do — have faith in who you are because you’ll never fool anyone by pretending to be someone or something else

And when you’re dusting yourself off and regaining your balance, always remember that as bad as things seem - there’s always someone who has it worse.  (Warning Graphic Picture!)