Another year gone by.......

So, I've had a couple new posts in the queue for a week or two now, but haven't been energetic enough to complete to my satisfaction. So, as a goodbye to 2007, I have the following random thoughts/self-indulgent brainstorming list to present:

--> I officially start my 2007 training season on Tuesday, January 1 to accomplish the 25-mile version of The Gemini Adventures-sponsored Trail Running Festival. Giddyap. This basically means I cut back on my consumption of beer, booze, refined sugar, and saturated fats for the next 4 months - all the while running about 25-40 miles a week. Wait, WTF am I doing?!?

--> I hope to do my first 50K, or perhaps - 50-miler - later on in the spring or summer. Suggestions anyone?

--> I look forward to a new baseball season. One not shrouded in a drug-induced haze. It'd be nice to feel like I'm 10 again. And could someone please tell Jose Canseco to shut the eff up? No one cares about him anymore.

--> I look forward to my runs in the snow. And my runs in the wind. And my runs in the heat. And sun. And clouds. And summer storms in Colorado. To running - period.

--> I look forward to a new president-elect. Jesus H., save us please. Get this war-mongering, self-indulgent, power-grabbing, all-too-consequential, excuse-making, track-covering, poor-excuse-for-a-Christian, crooked, lame, not intelligent AND lacking common sense, craptacular "president" out of what used to be (before his "election") the most powerful and respected office in the world.

--> To weather of all kind. Regardless of the all-too-apparent global cimate change upon us. It is nature after all - and can one on either side of the argument truly prove it one way or the other? Really. And besides, in Colorado - you don't like the weather? Wait a minute or two.

--> To some really good new music. And to the reunion tour of Van Halen. And your favorite local act.

--> To ever-enduring optimism and love abound.

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!!!!

Happiness, Part 2: Ode to Father: Some More Happiness

Tears of laughter and tears of joy. Such the contradiction.

Anchor chains, plane motors, and train whistles - thank you George Bailey. Always a journey life is. And thank you dear Father of mine, Matthew Anthony, such a journey your life was - you are missed every day and night, weekend and weekday, year in and year out, holidays. And your memory always makes me Smile. And Cry. And you can always make me think a bit more. Still. To this day.

Tears of laughter and tears of joy. Such the contradiction. Such the confusion.

It's a bit odd at times to move forward in life mustering the energy to do the mundane over and over and over again. Why do we do it? And for what? Pride or a point? A paycheck or a pittance? But you taught me something. Happiness is unsurpassed. Somehow. Me, the stubborn one you taught. And you stood by me with knowledge unsurpassed. And patience unfailing. Always push on to do your best. And never let down on your principles.

Thanks Dad. For all the happiness your instilled in our lives. Still. To this day.

Happiness, Part 1. What Makes YOU Happy?

So, I sit here pondering nothing in particular. Because I can. And I'm not ready for bed. The Gomez song "See the World" just came on and made me smile. Then came Jimi's "Voodoo Child" and I got chills. Is there a better intro to a song than that guitar riff?!? Top 5, all-time for sure. And now Sugar's "Going Home?" Very cool. But it's not just about music. Though music surely does speak volumes, and on many levels. So many emotions. So little time.

What makes YOU happy? Besides music and the arts? Me, I dunno - lots of things:

Warm weather with a cool breeze and cool weather with a warm breeze.
A packed meeting hall with familiar faces and a vacant remnant reminiscent of days gone-by.
A wide open trail with activity abound and a deserted single track where nary a soul exists for hours.
A sunrise stroll and a moonlit run.
A sunrise run and a moonlit strool.
Sweet summer rain and light 'n' fluffy winter snow.
A long weekend's outing and a short month's vacation.
The crack of a bat and the smell of freshly cut infield grass.
A perfectly-poured pint of Guinness and a fizzy, frothy hefeweizen (with lemon).
The buzz of a city and the hum-drum calm of a long, country road.
A calm, cobalt-blue ocean and an ominous, black&stormy sky.
A fresh plate of homemade pasta from Gondolier on Pearl (formerly Cafe Gondolier). That's it - just pasta. It is SO good, you can eat it by itself.

This could probably go on forever. But now slumber does call. It's always nice to put pleasant thoughts out there for sharing. And for sleeping. Sweet dreams to all, however that comes to be for one and all.

The snow, the snow, the snow.....

I am not some sort of crazed snow bunny - waiting all year to hit the slopes with the first snow or first tracks even. Nope, but I love the first snow. And the second. And the third. Etc., etc., etc. The fog looms a bit longer, the sun must work harder to warm our bones. But the solitude and the peaceful nature of the hills and sky. Ahhhhhhh........... the calm. The always soothing calm. Just lovin' the change in seasons.

And I'm particularly looking forward to my run in the morning. It will be bone-chilling cold. They're predicting a low in the single digits overnight. Hopefully the clouds will lift tonight pulling the warm cover off the landscape and a nice north wind will kick up to boot as sunrise approaches.

And I'll be wearing shorts. Excellent. See you on the trails.

Innocence Lost

December 7 has been a day that has lived in infamy since 1941. While the importance and magnitude of that day has never (or should have never) subsided, it took on a new meaning and brand new, unwelcome infamy in 1993 in the New York metropolitan area.

I grew up in the Village of Mineola, NY, on Long Island, about 25 miles outside of Manhattan. It was a great place to grow up. I was able to safely walk to every school I attended from K-12, into the village for a loaf of bread and milk. The local pizza place was also accessible by foot. And, as the years went on, so were several fun local watering holes also available without driving - beers and wings every Sunday while watching Sunday night baseball or football. Not too bad a place at all.

One of my main hobbies while growing up in Mineola was playing drums - stage band, concert band, pit orchestra, marching band. Yup, I was a band nerd. But I was a drummer, so it didn't matter, cause I was freakin' cool. DRUMS!!! While many people (parents, brother, teachers, peers) were supportive and helped nurture my musical life, one person showed me a particularly impassioned view of them. DRUMS!!! Rich Nettleton. That dude could hit a drum louder and harder, and more rhythmically comprehensive than many folks twice our age who had been playing for all those extra years. He was my brother's age, so three years older - in fact, he and my brother were great friends growing up. When I was a freshman, he and my brother were seniors, so thankfully I had my own protector squad as a little freshman. Alas, I was still shy, still vulnerable. But with the nurturing and love of a brother, Rich pushed me and pressed all the right buttons to get me to be a drummer, a leader, a lover of all things drums. DRUMS!!! He freakin' rocked.

So, on December 7, 1993, the day that I found out my band (Nuclear Cream Cheese) scored our first gig at the now-defunct Right Track Inn in Freeport, NY, after telling my brother and parents, I had one person to call: Rich. At the time, my Dad was also commuting into and out of the city, but was already home by the time I went to call Rich. I knew something had happened, but did not understand the severity of it. I remember it vividly, my heart beating in anticipation of his reaction, trying to think ahead a couple weeks to the night of the show. His Dad answered. He sounded a but flummoxed and asked me to call back, because of..... the thing..... you know Dave, the thing on the train. He hung up. It took me a minute or two to comprehend what may have (did?) happened..... Rich was on the 5:33 out of Penn Station. Oh.... my.... god. That kind of thing doesn't happen in our little bit of suburbia, does it?!? No way. Oh, how naive I was. How ignorant and unaware I was. How innocent.

And 14 years ago today, December 10, 1993, we were all trying to come to grips with what had happened. Rich had been killed along with 5 other innocent humans. 19 others were injured before 3 good, scared (I'd figure) samaritans tackled the crazed gunmen down to the floor. Wakes and funerals abound. Tears and disbelief. Sorrow and pain. My (everyone's?) innocence gone. A horrible dose of reality that still stings to this day. The anger and hostility is thankfully long gone, though I fought with those emotions for a long time after that. It just did not make sense then and still does not make sense now. These were people simply commuting home from New York City after another day of work, like they had done for many days, weeks, months, years before. Some were probably sleeping when the first shots rang out. Others had no or minimal time to react. Uggghhhhh, the anguish of many because of the rage of one.

And my innocence was lost on that December day in 1993. Gone. Poof. But my life goes on; all our lives go on. And we must cope. And we must make ourselves better people. And hope that others are able to do the same. Some days are full of hope and others are horrible reminders of the fact that people still are enraged, or insane, or have simply lost hope - like last week in Omaha or this past weekend here at 2 different churches in Colorado.

It seems like it may follow only you, but it follows everyone regardless of the geographic locations of these horrific events. And we must all move on, and work at tirelessly, and hope that perhaps someday, the world you once wished for to live in for yourself, is available for your children and grandchildren. Perhaps someday. A brilliant songwriter once wrote and sang, "Imagine." How tragically ironic the way his life ended as well, almost to the day, 13 years apart, of another impassioned and incredible musician that I knew and loved personally.

Imagine people. Imagine.