Maundy Thursday - Another Day

"Mandatum novum do vobis ut diligatis invicem sicut dilexi vos"

Thursday, April 9, 2009 is a full moon and Maundy Thursday.

I didn't sleep well again last night. I sat up and stared at a photograph of my beautiful cousin Beth. In the picture, she is tan and smiling with long brown hair that hangs down to her bright green shirt. Her eyes look calm and happy. Beth and I were born the same year and she should be my age now. But she's not. Beth died in Rhode Island exactly four years ago yesterday, and no matter what anyone says, I know it was partly my fault. I feel bad to be alive when she is not. It's not fair. I wish I could tell her to her face how sorry I am. I can't stop thinking of the situation that led to her death, and how I bought a ticket to fly out to her funeral but I didn't get on the plane. I couldn't get on that plane. I can't stop thinking. I can't stop. I can't.

(pic) - My cousin Beth.

I awake to the sound of a bunny rabbit stomping his feet in a cage next to my bed. It is not the Easter Bunny. It is the Yawny Bunny we are keeping for some friends. He wants some attention. I roll over and he jumps on top of his wooden house inside the cage. I hold a treat for him through the cage wires. He takes it in his big front teeth but I don't let go. He pulls. I resist. He pulls again and again and again. He is strong and just playing with me. Finally he chomps all the way down and bites it off. He munches it greedily while I get ready to 'work from home'.



I have an important phone call with the Dublin, Ireland office at 7:30 am PST. We need to synch up before they go away for the long Easter holiday weekend. I try to log on to my office network but no luck. No internet connectivity at all. I try to reboot and reset modems and routers to fix the problem. When the meeting time arrives I try to call in on my cell phone, but there is no service. I try the home landline phone. No service. I turn on the radio and hear that "telephone and internet service is down over three counties and there is no ETA on restoration of service". I rush out to a local coffee shop to see if they have any wifi connectivity. No luck. While I wait for my brewbar coffee to drip I hear all kinds of rumors at the downtown coffee hole:

• A Korean missile took out our communications satellite! No, it was a massive solar flare.
  
• The State of California didn't (couldn't!) pay it's phone bill and the phone companies are shutting us off! No, the phone companies are shutting down because of the depression.
  
• A terrorist attack is starting on the west coast and will spread east daily until Easter Sunday! No, it's God's Will, and we are finally being punished for all our sins and God wants us to stop plugging in, damn it, and start listening to HIM before it's too late.
  
• Ahhhh, downtown. Keep Santa Cruz Weird ... Amen!

(pic) - Charlie wore this t-shirt in the last Wharf-to-Wharf we ran together in 2004.

As it turns out, it was an act of sabotage. Possibly by disgruntled AT&T Union workers suddenly without a contract. We are in a communications blackout. I've missed the important meeting with the Irish office and they are probably wondering where the heck I am. I have no way of contacting them. I look around. There are no little green Leprachauns to help me.

I look in my planner. I have a busy schedule for the day. I have physical therapy for my hurt ankle in the morning. I have other meetings and emails to answer and phone calls to attend. I have a major deadline to meet. I have to watch my UVM Catamounts beat the BU Terriers in the Frozen Four collegiate hockey semifinals. I have to go to Monterey with Simon and his dance class and watch a performance by the Lula Washington Dance Troupe. Actually, the last two I "want" to do. The others I "have" to do. I need to figure out how to get this all done.

I drive south down the coast, down highway 1 toward Monterey. I listen to my audiobook of "My Good Friend Leonard" by James Frey all the way down. He's the controversial "Million Little Pieces" guy. His writing style is contagious. You might have noticed. I get off at the Monterey exit and the Hyatt Hotel is right in front of me. I pull in to the parking lot. The hotel is nice. Swanky nice, and the lobby is even nicer. Outside the back wall of windows in lobby is a golf course. I sit down and plug-in and logon to their wifi network. I order a coffee. It comes and it is Starbucks coffee and it is good. The waitress brings me free refills for the next five hours while I sit their and work. I really do work. I call in to meetings. The jazz muzak is somehow very motivating. As James Frey might say, I get shit done.

It's 5:30 pm PST. I've overcome the major communications blackout. Now it is game time. UVM vs. Boston U. for the right to play in the NCAA Division 1 Hockey Championship game. I graduated from UVM in the early 80's. I watched a lot of live Catamounts hockey at Gutterson field house. I still have in my possession a UVM game puck from 1982 I caught in the stands. The deflected puck went over the back glass and was going to hit one of my best friends in the head. But he was making out with a co-ed to his left and never saw it. I caught it on the fly instead. I got the puck. He got lucky. It was win-win.

I want to watch the Cats win it all. I can't not watch it.

I walk down the hall from the hotel lobby. The Hyatt has an amazing bar called Knuckle's Historical Sports Bar with fifteen HD TV's. There is an autographed picture of Joe Kapp on their Monterey Bay Hall of Fame Wall. Cool. I go to the bar and ask the bartender to put on the game. He changes the channel on the TV right in front of me. I order a pitcher of beer and it's only about $5 because it is happy hour. There are free peanuts and popcorn available. I am stoked.

The game begins and UVM falls behind 2-0 in the first period. I eat the free peanuts and drink a lot because the peanuts are salty, or because I am not happy with the score. The second period goes much better and UVM comes back to take a 3-2 lead that is short-lived. BU ties it up just before the end of the period. The Dance performance is going to start in fifteen minutes but I order another beer. I'm not going anywhere.

During the intermission, the ESPN2 broadcast cuts to Sports News about Nick Adenhart, 22, a pitcher for the LA Angels who has been killed in a car accident by a drunk driver the night before. You never know. The Sports News blurb does not tell us that two other young people were killed as well. Only the pro athlete's death makes the news. The Sports News does not mention that over 3,653 people have been killed by drunk drivers in the USA so far this year, a little over three months into 2009. But 3,653 is just a number - more than the number of people killed on 9/11. Nick Adenhart was a promising young pitcher who threw six shutout innings last night. But 3,653 families are grieving because otherwise non-violent people drink and then drive a two ton block of steel on wheels out of control. In the past four years, more Americans died due to alcohol related fatalities (65,020) than the total of American military personell killed or missing during the entire Vietnam war (60,860). I know these statistics. Don't ask me why. These are what you might call 'sobering statistics'. I think about James Frey.

I stop drinking.

The third period starts. It is a great game. When UVM scores a great goal I leap off my barstool and shout out loud "YEAH!" over the din of the busy dinner time crowd. I feel a brief hush as all eyes turn toward me for a split second. I am the only one watching this game. I am the only one who cares. I feel awkward and alone, but only for a second. Then I don't care. UVM is now up 4-3 with little over seven minutes left in the game.

A couple minutes later I hear the rest of the patrons around me at the bar all groan loudly in unison. Ooooh!! They're all watching the SF Giants play the Milwaukee Brewers. I don't care about baseball or about these teams right now. But something bad has happened. I look over at the other TVs and watch the replays. Two outs in the bottom of the ninth in a 7-1 ballgame. A Giants pitcher is hit in the head with a line drive and goes down. We all sit and watch it shown over and over from every angle.



(vid) - Joe Martinez hit in the head. He went to Boston College, not BU. You never know.

Ouch!

Then I look back at the hockey game and BU ties the game. Ouch. A minute or so later they go ahead. UVM pulls the goalie but it's too late. BU wins 5-4. Ouch.

I get in my car. It is raining and I'm in unfamiliar territory and I'm late for the Lula Washington dance performance at CSUMB World Theater. I'm sure I am driving legally, but I drive very carefully anyway. I turn on the sports talks radio. I am reminded of Nick Adenhart again and again and again.

I make it to the show just in time for intermission. Simon is in the lobby and I give one of his friends money for cookies. I drink some coffee. The show starts again and it is beautiful and creative and heartbreaking and lovely. Black women in white outfits carrying tennis rackets dance to some smooth jazz. They are acting & dancing out a tennis match. It is a tribute to the Williams' sisters and it is inspiring. Next there are men and women in hippy costumes dancing to 60's music and acting out the era: free love, civil rights and Peace protests, psychadelics, rock 'n roll. Very creative, nostalgic and moving. Near the end they recite dates and names of the assassinations while Bob Dylan's "Blowin' In The Wind" plays in the background:

• John F. Kennedy '63
• Malcolm X '65
• Martin Luther King '68
• Robert F. Kennedy '68

The very last thing they say is:

• 1969: The world watches on TV while Neil Armstrong puts an American flag on the moon.
  

(vid) - One Giant Leap For Mankind. (Reaaally?)

Whoa. Outside in the parking lot there is actually full moon peaking through the overcast. A little ashamed, I look closely for the flag. I gulp.

On the way home I turn on the sports radio again. A sports talk radio announcer starts talking about the Angel's Adenhart and other tragic baseball deaths. He mentions the '86 Red Sox, and I turn up the sound. What? Who could he be talking about? Not Bill Buckner! He is still alive and redeemed. No, it's not the Red Sox. It's the Angels. The Red Sox beat the Angels in the '86 ALDS. The Angels led the series 3-1 and were 1 strike away from their first ever World Series. But Angel's reliever Donnie Moore gave up a two run homer to Dave Henderson of the Sox on a 2-2 count in the bottom of the ninth in Anaheim. (The Sox went on to win the series 4-3, and then had their own hearts broken against the Mets...) But the story is much more tragic than a any box score can tell. Donnie Moore was booed mercilessly by the Angels fans the following year and was the scapegoat for the 1-strike-away loss. Donnie Moore lost his edge, lost his mind, became severely depressed. Donnie Moore tried to kill his wife and then shot himself in front of his sons in 1989.

I'm shocked. I did not know this. (I was living in Singapore then). I am stunned. I think of Bill Buckner and Red Sox Nation. I cringe. I gulp again. And again I am reminded that sports is only a game.

On the way home Simon says he really loved the Lula Washington show. I tell him, so did I.

I smile. What I don't tell him is that I'm really glad that he likes dancing so much, and not sports. But I am.

April 1st, 2009 - A Day In The Life

In the random spirit of Facebook's "25 Random Facts About Me", here are "10 random facts'" which may (or may not) have happened to me on this day of fibbing. Not exactly a Letterman's Top 10 List, I know. All this happened to me today. Really. And oh, how I wish some of them were really not true, and it is all just a bad April Fool's joke:

1. I drove to the Stanford Medical Center Eye Clinic and was told again, without irony, "let's wait and see what the other doctor has to say..."

(pic) - anyone see what I'm saying here?

2. I drove up next to my dream car, a charcoal coloered Tesla Roadster (fully electric sports car that costs $100,000) driven by a young woman on Sand Hill Road in Palo Alto. She didn't acknowledge me when I rolled down the window of my Prius and gave her the thumbs up. I felt so dissed and disappointed.

(pic) - a charcoal colored Tesla Roadster.

3. On this day in history, someone very close to me was born and someone very close to me was found dead.



4. I sent an email to a childhood friend asking him if I could sleep over at his house this weekend. I addressed him as "Regular Gila" (In this case, gila is pronounced "GHEE-la", not "HE-la").

(pic) - Gila said yes, we'd love to have you!


5. When I set my Fantasy Golf selections for the week, I chose all the golfers whose first name is Charlie, Charley or Charles.

(pic) - Charley Hoffman escapes 'the beach'.

6. We ate dinner at a local vegetarian restaurant that used to be called "McDharma's" but they were sued by the fast food giant McDonald's for name infringement. So they removed the "Mc".



7. I was confirmed as a Facebook friend from a former SHS football teammate who is an actor who has played major roles in TV shows such as "The Shield", "Saving Grace" and "Cold Case". His wife is expecting their first child soon.

(pic) - the famous actor who shall remain anonymous and his lovely wife.

8. I called someone in Bangalore, India in the middle of the night (my time) to interview them for a job that would basically make my 'Globalization Manager' job the victim of globalization.



9. In Simon's room, I fed a purple snack to a real live pet rabbit that we are taking care of for a couple who is now in Thailand. This couple is expecting their first child in July. I'm very happy for them, but I can't stop worrying that another way of saying "they're pregnant" is "their rabbit died".

(pic) - caption says "* No actual rabbits were harmed in this pregnancy test."

10. I put fresh cut flowers (yellow and green mums, as well as a lei and a drumstick with a peace sign ring on it) at the beach near a sign that says "In Memory of Charlie Harrison". I go there every week. This time I was upset and distracted and I tripped over the curb and reinjured my badly sprained left ankle. It hurt like hell. I had to sit down and then I couldn't stop myself from crying. Not because of my ankle.


(pic) - flowers at the beach, circa April 2005.

Jason, Caesar and Superman do Friday the 13th

Written on Friday, March 13, 2009.

It's Friday the 13th! It's the day to look over your shoulder, just a split second too late, to see a madman wearing a hockey goalie mask brandishing a huge butcher knife. Can you see it? Hear it? Listen. Violins screech wildly! A tragically cute blonde screams! Her hot red blood splatters! Yeah, I can still hear it, too.

(pic) - Goalie masked Jason caught in the act. This is definitely high-sticking and he'll get a double minor (4 minutes) for drawing blood.

But don't forget the rest of the story (may Paul Harvey also rest in peace. Good day.). The hockey mask man is mad, crazy-killer-slasher mad, for vengeance because he's come back from the dead. Because he was a helpless little kid left to drown in Crystal Lake while the teenage camp counselors were bonking in the bunk house all those summers ago... I really hate to say it, but I now know exactly how Jason feels. Yeah, that's right. Better look behind you.


(pic) - Jason on-shore. The tables turned.

But that's only a tale from Hollyworld. In the real world, today also being called "Pink Friday" here in Santa Cruz County as the pink slips go out today to thousands of public school teachers being cut due to the economic crisis and California's pathetic budget woes. Folks are wearing pink in solidarity of the teachers being let go. It is one sad state of affairs. Charlie's favorite color was pink. Every time I see the color I think of him and his pink Chuck Taylor converse. Makes it even sadder.

(pic) - Pink Friday logo. (source: http://pinkfriday.ning.com/)

Two days after Friday the 13th it will be the ominous Ides of March. Julius Caesar was warned to beware the Ides of March, but he had just declared himself Roman Emperor for Life and wasn't afraid of anything. Well, after the dramatic act of tyrannicide took him down, we learn that no matter how in control we may seem (Emperor of the World for Life. - not enough), maybe we should be afraid. Very afraid.

(pic) - Tyrannicide of Caesar, 44 BC.

Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm not superstitious at all. I'm just paranoid. This past week the sea claimed a 30 year old man and a local teenager. The 17 year old 's memory is being honored by his friends and family. Los Gatos High School tragically lost three students this year. One boy collapsed and died on campus. Another in a car accident. The school community is in shock with grief and there are memorials and counselors at hand. I actually know Los Gatos HS well. Their track is home to the infamous Dammit Run , a 5 miler that runs up the face of the Lexington reservoir dam, over a mountain and back to the HS. Charlie won first place in the Boy's 13 and Under Division in 2003, crushing the Impey brothers by over 2 minutes.

(pic) - Charlie with his first place medal from the 2003 Dammit Run in Los Gatos.

The rough year at LGHS reminds that during my senior year at Springfield HS we lost a classmate in a car accident. Her name is Karen Sargent. I knew her, but didn't know her well; just knew she had brilliant black hair and a big bright white smile. At the time, I honestly had no clue of the pain some of my classmates and her family were suffering. I am really very sorry for that. I am really sorry for their loss. I don't remember anyone at school talking to us about it. A real-life learning lesson was lost on me. In retrospect, a lesson I dearly could have used. So as my 30th HS reunion approaches and then when I blogged about Cosmos #22, I dug out my HS yearbook. There is a full page tribute to Karen.



(pic) - Karen's memoriam. (source: SHS Yearbook 1979)

(pic) - Charlie's memoriam. (source Santa Cruz HS Yearbook 2005)

I also glanced through the Senior Quotes printed below the pictures of each one of the graduating class of 1979. Terry Barton, a close friend of Karen's, senior quote grabs me. It says it all:
"All the wealth in the world could not buy a friend or pay for the loss of one." Amen.

(pic) - Terry Barton. (source: SHS Yearbook 1979)

My own Senior quote?
"Any day you don't get killed is a good one."
I cringe. How would Karen's friends and family have taken that? After the events of my life thus far, it takes my breath away. I cringe again.


(pic) - Scott Harrison. Why so serious? you might ask (source: SHS Yearbook 1979)

My senior quote is taken word-for-word from a techno-thriller novel called "Weather War". I remember reading those words and the feeling of simple truth in them. They hit a chord inside and stuck with me, so I stuck them in the yearbook. Primarily, I chose that quote because I had some rough times of my own in HS and made some incredibly stupid mistakes and had some of my own near-miss car accidents that could have easily killed me and / or my closest friends. But we somehow survived each day, and so we better just count it as a 'good' and be thankful for that.

If you don't agree that "Any day you don't get killed is a good one." then you must be a very lucky person. A local young man Charlie must have run against in cross country, Jerry Maccallister, is a C4 quadriplegic since Jan 2, 2009. But he is alive and there is hope. And ultimately that is all that is needed to sustain us: life and hope. This week I just finished listening to an audio book that I plan to give to the Maccallisters. It's called, Nothing Is Impossible, written and read by vent-dependent, C2 quadriplegic Christopher Reeve. The book covers the range of emotions: depression, suicide, despair, gratitude, helplessness, progress, love, fight and hope. It is also a political plea to allow embryonic stem cell research to help find a way to regenerate spinal tissue. It is sobering and realistic, too, and I sometimes wonder if the gift will not be wanted. The last chapter starts with this quote:

""Hope is itself a species of happiness, and, perhaps, the chief happiness which this world affords: but, like all other pleasures immoderately enjoyed, the excesses of hope must be expiated by pain; and expectations improperly indulged must end in disappointment.""
- Samuel Johnson

Yep, there's some tough love in this book.

The final paragraph of the book is superb. So I will just leave you with Hollyworld's own Superman's words, and assure you I will pass it on to Jerry. Read them slow and think about the meaning of each word:

""When the unthinkable happens, the lighthouse is Hope. Once we find it, we must cling to it with absolute determination... Hope must be as real, and built on the same solid foundation, as a lighthouse; in that way it is different from optimism or wishful thinking. When we have Hope, we discover powers within ourselves we may have never known - the power to make sacrifices, to endure, to heal, and to love. Once we choose Hope, everything is possible. We are all on this sea together. But the lighthouse is always there, ready to show us the way home.""
-- Christoper Reeve

(pic) - The cover of the audiobook by Christopher Reeve quoted above. If you look closely you can see the ventilator tube sticking out of his throat. The hardest part of this book is readin it knowing that Reeve died on October 10, 2004, two years after it was written. Nothing and nobody lasts forever, but as long as there is hope...

Posted March 16, 2009.

Simon and Tapfunkle

pic - Smilin' Simon in the middle of a turn at Dancenter.

Three weeks ago Simon came down with the flu. He had stomach pain, stopped eating and lost five pounds. The doctor said it 'might' be the flu but had his blood checked just in case. Same Dr. calls back that night to say, "Simon's white blood cell count is abnormally low and we need to do some more tests to make sure he doesn't have lymphoma or leukemia". Say what?!

Yeah, I worry.
A lot.
Too much you say?

Subsequent tests showed he's fine. False alarm. We were due for a false alarm.

But Simon had missed a week of school and dance practice. He had a week of homework to make up and his take home application / test for High School Math Academy program was due. He was supposed to dance a solo at a benefit performance on March 7. He sucked it up, caught up on his work and got his application in on time. Then he choreographed and practiced his own solo tap dance for the benefit show. I had never seen it and wondered what he had come up with in a week...
Well, here it is on YouTube, to Queen's "Seaside Rendezvous".
It brought the house down.

Enjoy!



Then, a day later a real life seaside rendezvous with some kids from Los Gatos went terribly wrong. Under the category of "you never know", the front page headline in the Santa Cruz Sentinel was:
Teen Swept Out To Sea
http://www.santacruzsentinel.com/ci_11875854?source=rss
I read the article and got stuck on those two words too impossible to swallow: presumed drowned.

Yeah, I worry.
A lot.
And for good reason.
Yeah, I miss my oldest son, too.
A ton.
Every day in a different way.

I feel for Dennis' parents and know of the not-so-private hell they are going to live with for the rest of their lives. Sometimes I wonder how I ever made it this far. Then I see my youngest son dance like that with a big smile on his face - and watch while he puts a big smile on others faces, too. And I understand one big reason why I will always continue to take it one day at a time.

pic - Simon on the left showing some hip hop attitude. Note the old school Expos cap. (source: http://www.dancenterinfo.com/events.html)

Cosmos # 22

In the winter of 1977, Assistant Coach Chip Dorwin of the Springfield High School Cosmos boys varsity basketball team is handing out the game uniforms before the start of the season. He offers the #23 jersey to a scrawny, 5' 7 1/2 ", 135 pound, bow-legged kid who had just barely made the team. The kid knows better not to touch that one. #23 was worn by legendary SHS athlete Greg Birsky who owned the career scoring record of 1,466 points. The kid watched Greg play spectacularly for four years. Birsky ended his career in Burlington with a loss to Mt. Anthony in the State Finals game but played brilliantly.
#23, was his hero.
"No way, that number should be retired!", the would-be #23 cries.
He takes #22 instead.

pic -1979 - #22 for the Cosmos looks to pass, not shoot. Still needs a haircut.
(source: SHS 1979 Yearbook)


In the winter of 1979, with four or five games left in the regular season, Head Coach Richie Wyman pulls that same short, scrawny, bow-legged kid, #22, off the end of the bench and starts him at point guard. The team goes on to win the rest of the regular season games and hosts their first playoff game at home versus Montpelier. The Solons are coming off a State Championship in football. Also, they beat the Cosmos badly in their own Christmas Tournament title game earlier in the season.
The opening tip of the game falls into the lap of #22 and he waltzes in for an easy layup. But the ball never reaches the rim, as it is unceremoniously swatted off the backboard. The big boys had come to play. But #22 is not rattled. On defense, he plays 'free safety' the entire game and doesn't allow the run and gun Solons to get any cheap fast break points - points that had killed them in December. He also makes sure he has a hand in the face - sometimes fingers near the eyeballs - of the outside Solon sharpshooters and they miss a bundle. #22 doesn't turn the ball over the in the back court and finds Farmer Lockwood underneath for a few easy lay-ins in the half court offense. Late in the fourth quarter with the Cosmos running away with it he takes his second shot of the game, a wide open 20 footer, that goes 19 feet and sails wide left out of bounds. The stat sheet shows 3 fouls, no points and one W. Springfield goes on to play Brattleboro in the next round, with the winners advancing to the Division I State Tournament (final four?) at UVM in Burlington. The playoff game is played in Bellows Falls gym, a neutral court that has an odd rubber spongy surface. During the opening layup drills before the game #22 is as pumped up as he has ever been. He takes a pass, two steps, bounces toward the basket. Suddenly, he is soaring - soaring in uncharted territory, his head way up near the net, and he has to duck (duck!) at the last second so he won't hit his head on the rim. The layup slams off the backboard and misses everything. He is stunned. Had anyone seen that?! No one? Yet, he still remembers the rim in his face as if it was yesterday. His memory is like a dream where he is flying, regretting he had not composed himself and dunked it... The Cosmos lead the game at half time by a single point. The Brattleboro Colonels pull away in the second half, shooting a ton of free throws. With the game winding down, #22 steals the ball in the back court on a press. While he pulls the ball free he turns and in one motion sends up an awkward looking hook shot from 20+ feet toward the basket and it miraculously rolls around the rim a couple of times and falls in. His only two points of the game. The Brattleboro player looks at him in disbelief and all he does is smile, trying not to laugh. On the ensuing possession #22 commits his fifth foul and is sent to the bench. Fouled out. His season and his beloved high school hoops career ignanimously over. His dream of playing in Burlington for a State Title gone.

pic - The 1978-79 Springfield Cosmos Boys Varsity Basketball Team:
Back row left to right: Coach Richie Wyman, Kurt Rushton, Pete Hake, Kurt Martin, Bob Frawley, Chris Wood, Ben Mellish, Mike Porter, Scott Harrison, Manager Kirk Messer
Front row: co-captains Brad Lockwood and Glenn Cioffi.
(source: SHS 1979 Yearbook)

Flash forward thirty years to the winter of 2009.

That scrawny kid is now 47 years old, with a family, college tuition for his daughter due, a mortgage and a two hour round-trip commute. He has been through an awful lot in three decades - but he still plays pickup hoops and he loves to shoot this (not so) new thing called "The Three". And he still remembers. He gets an email from his sister with a link to a website that is going to show a Vermont high school basketball game *live* online on February 28, 2009. The Springfield Cosmos are playing.

He logs in and watches the whole game and he remembers.

The 2009 Springfield Cosmos boys varsity basketball team is playing for the Division II Vermont State Championship against the Vergennes Commodores. The title games are now played at the Aud in Barre, the home of the semi-pro Vermont Frost Heaves. The #4 seed Cosmos come out and play well against a strong #2 seed Commodores team, but somehow trail by one point at half time. The Cosmos defense then shuts down the Commodores and hold them to eight points total in the second half and crush them 59-31. An absolutely brilliant game is played by #22 for the Cosmos, who totally dominates, scoring 13 points in the third quarter alone and finishes with 33 points - outscoring Vergennes single-handedly. He makes five three pointers. The Cosmos had won their first boys State Championship in basketball in 49 years!

pic- The scoreboard at the Aud. The Cosmos as Guests victorious.
(source: Vic Baskevich)

The 47 year old #22 sits at his computer in disbelief. He has just watched his dream come true! But it is only a dream. And like a dream, he is not really there. He is not being interviewed on TV and he is not holding a shiny trophy over his head as the townspeople rise as one and cheer him. It is someone else living his dream. Same number, but the younger #22 is much bigger - 6'2" and probably weighs 180+ - and eminently more talented in every way.


pic - 2009 - #22 for the Cosmos jumps center for the Cosmos in the opening tip against Mill River. Who is this guy?! (source: http://www.sevtsports.net)



pics - #22 dominating the boards against the Mill River Rats in the quarterfinal game. He does it all. (source: http://www.sevtsports.net)

pic - #22 takes down a rebound to add on to his 33 point performance against Vergennes in the state title game. You can watch the full game archive here. Incredible!
(source: http://www.sevtsports.net)

The younger #22 is named Grant White. Now an instant Cosmo legend, if you say his name fast it even sounds like "Green 'n White". Incredibly, he broke #23 Greg Birsky's career scoring record. Grant was the star quarterback on the SHS Football team that won the State Title in that sport just months earlier. (In November, I wrote about the SHS state championship in football here.) Grant is the pride of the small town. He is described by town elders as, "One of the nicest and best athletes I've ever seen. good kid, good family, good grades. Still deciding whether to play football or basketball in college. Lots of interest in him."

The older #22 sighs and mumbles to himself... well, at least I got good grades.

GO COSMOS!

Grateful Red in Takebe, Japan

pic - Mark in his element, with the cutoff jeans, Red Sox Wild Card t-shirt, mike in hand with a locals only jam band at his back. Probably channeling Neil Young better than Neil himself. Ya think this man has it figured out?

I'm proud of my little brother, Mark. He's found his place in this crazy mixed-up world. He's my only brother and I've sometimes thought I love him like a son, too. Yeah, I know. Weird. But I know he's pretty darn happy right now where he is, and that's really all anyone can ever ask for in life - to be happy. Not rich, not famous, just happy as a pig in slop.

He just moved from Ground Zero in Hiroshima, a big city in Japan, to the countryside of Okayama Prefecture in a tiny village called Takebe. His wife Yumi inherited her parent's home there and they fixed it up. They moved there at the end of January and are settling in. Yumi works in the women's clothing department of a major department store in the city of Okayama. Mark is re-starting his English Conversation School business there. He just sent me a link to his website he'll use to advertise. Here it is:
http://web.me.com/harrissongs/Site/Welcome.html
Check it out.


The house in Takebe. Nice!

Representing the Red Sox Nation at a Hiroshima Carp game. Go Sox!

The Big Wahoo in Oahu.

(Pic) Mike and Etsuko about to demolish a huge order of sushi at Mitch's, Mike's newest favorite sushi place in Honolulu. Yeah, I helped the uni and ikura and.... It was all great, and flown in to this warm water island. Note to self - next time give the flounder sushi a pass. This meal almost surpassed the Hy's SteakHouse bonanza (remember to get the steak house picture from Etsuko...).

ALOHA! I went to Hawai'i last week. It's meant to be an annual trip I call "The Big Wahoo In Oahu". Some of you would refer to it as a "boondoggle". Call it what you want, but visiting the islands is good for the soul. Life slows down here. It's meant to be an annual thing, but due to various family emergencies, I haven't been really making the trip annually. Put that down in the category of "you never know..". But I always look forward to going back when I can. This year I made it!!!

I visit my friend Mike and his gracious wife Etsuko in their cosey apartment off of Waikiki. They used to rent but are now buying their place which bodes well for the future of the Big Wahoo.
Here's a view of the backside of Waikiki and Diamondhead in the distance from their lanai (veranda):



I left my family at home to fend for themselves and I got on a plane. They think that somehow I am going to visit "my girlfriend in Hawai'i". All I can say is that the only one I shared a bed with is Mike's ancient but genki cat Itchy-san (ak "Grover"). Grover is 17? years old and a story in herself...
(pic)


My excuse to make this trip is to celebrate Mike's birthday, golf and watch the Pro Bowl. I'll tell you up front though, that those are all peripheral events to the main focus which is drinking (a lot), eating (a lot, and only the best), tobacco'ing (in any form) and visiting the Harbor Pub until all hours. For Mike's birthday, I brought him a bunch of t-shirts, calendars, toys, books and trinkets which will probably just fill up his apartment with unnecessary stuff. Sorry, Mike. The golf this year was played at beautiful Ko'Olina on the west coast of Oahu and Makaha on the northwest coast. Makaha is in a beautiful valley that also looks out over the ocean. We had beautiful weather all week and it was like paradise. My golfing really really sucks, but I couldn't care less. I played on a sprained ankle so that was my alibi - but really, I just suck at golf and probably always will. We played with David F. who shot a legitimate 82 at Makaha, which is pretty much the best round of golf I've ever witnessed in person, so that helps me understand how the game is supposed to be played. He consistently made some amazing putts while I consistently came up a foot short on a 3 foot "tap in".
(pic) - Mike, me and David (Pana o ka mele) at Makaha golf course. David took our money, but not as much as we blew at the 19th Hole here. Note to self - the 'poke' is good eatin'.

We also witnessed possibly the worst college basketball game of the 2009 season as UH Rainbows blew out the Fresno State Bulldogs. The score was 14-1 after 5 minutes...

The Pro Bowl this year is a somber tale to tell. Alas, after 30 years this could be the last Pro Bowl in Hawaii ever, and the locals here are clearly bummed. Tons of tourist dollars will be lost, as will one of my excuses to make the trip to Honolulu... Next year the NFL plans to hold the Pro Bowl in Miami the week *before* the Super Bowl, also in Miami. Go figure! This was shocking news to me as I arrived, but made me realize that 'nothing lasts forever', and I'm really glad I made it out this year - possibly the last. So this year Mike and I decided to forego the regular tailgate extravaganza and take Etsuko with us on TheBus (da city bus) to the game. After all, it's possibly her last chance to see it, too! This was probably a good thing for our overall health as well - giving us a break before the final assault at the Harbor Pub.


(pic) Me, Etsuko, Mike, 4 rows from the top of Aloha Stadium at the 2009 Pro Bowl. These seats turned out to be perfect because they were in the shade, near an exit with no lines for beer, and in the end zone where the mascots and cheerleaders did all of their special performances. Nice!


(pic) A view from our seats of the halftime show. "To make an apple pie from scratch, first you must create The Universe." - Carl Sagan

But as I mentioned, the rest of the time Mike and I spent drinking Budweiser at the Harbor Pub or elsewhere. We shared banter which shouldn't be repeated even if we could remember them, and we argued about public stuff like A-Roid, low carb diets, and the culpability of the greedy wall street stock brokers. This year we did less golfing (yeah, my ankle was still swollen and Mike had a touch of gout) so there was gratefully not much re-capping of the golf game. Here's an appropriately blurry pic of the scene of the crime (Harbor Pub entrance), near the IliKai Hotel (soon to be condos?), across the street from the yacht harbor.



One of the owners/managers of the Harbor Pub, Gabe, is also calling it quits this year and is moving back to the mainland. New Jersey, I think, where most of the core Pub folks are from, including Paul (Mr. Baseball). I was also sorry not to get to hear Jeff the bartender drill us with trivia questions and his NJ memories because of his unfinished dental work. Surely the end of an era at the Pub as well (and yes, I'll stop calling me Shirley!).

One huge highlight: The semi-famous 49er Knuckleheads did show up on cue at the Pub one night and did two excellent numbers, including their newest: "Don't Take Our Pro Bowl Awaaay!" sung to the Simon n Garfunkle tune of "Don't Take My Kodachrome Away". [I videotaped it on my new cell phone and was psyched to post it on YouTube for John and Augie, but alas, the audio (garbled) and video (too dark) quality basically suck and not worth posting. Major sigh and major opportunity missed due to poor technology. Note to self - bring *real* camera/video next time.]

So this year it was nice to get back in the Oahu saddle (grass skirt?) again, but it may never be the same again. A big MAHALO to Mike, Etsuko and Itchy-san for putting me up and putting up with me. (How bad do I really snore?).

It was a great escape, but the return to reality in Santa Cruz has been, as always, somewhat of a struggle. Everything Changes and Nothing Lasts Forever. I guess so.

PS:

Pic- Above, a lei-strewn statue of surfing legend Duke Kahanamoku on Waikiki beach. Note the tourists are everywhere. I guess if they make a bronze statue of you, then you might last quite a bit longer, but not forever. And I overheard a Japanese tour guide try to explain the plaque beneath the statue but he got all his facts mixed up and pretty much explained a purely fictional history of the Duke: "The Duke introduced Surfing to the Olympics! The Duke was an actor who starred as The Sherriff of Honolulu!". Click on the pic below and read the real tribute... He got it all wrong. But the Japanese tourists all nodded and took pictures and took it all in anyway. I didn't have the heart to correct - and embarrass - the poor guide. But yeah, you never really know...

One (1) Puppy

After moving from Japan, it was our first Christmas in our new home in Santa Cruz. My daughter Jeremi was in second grade and she wrote a letter to Santa in crayon that said she wanted a new puppy for Christmas - more than anything in this world. The holiday arrived with alarming speed, however, and there was no puppy bouncing out from under the tree that Christmas morning. But Santa had not forgotten. He had left an official letter rolled up and tied with red yarn nestled in the bows of the tree. It was addressed to my daughter and it was signed in a spectacular flourish by the Jolly Old Elf himself. He explained that she had been a very, very good girl, and so she could indeed have a puppy! But he wanted her to have the joy - and the responsibility - of choosing the pet on her own. She must also promise to love, feed, clean, walk and take good care of her choice. He included an official looking cut-out coupon at the bottom of the page, good for "One (1) Puppy".
A few weeks later, on the way home from Japanese school, I took Jeremi and her coupon to the C.A.R.E shelter in San Jose. The 'Companion Animal Rescue Effort' saved pets from neglect, abuse or abandonment and provided them to caring families for a nominal fee. We walked into a large room with caged dogs on the sides. We were met at the door and we asked for a puppy, but received a stern look from the woman in charge. She glanced down at my small child, and inquired if we had any 'smaller' children at home. Indeed, I said, two boys, one in kindergarten and a one year old. The stern face smiled briefly and then explained that puppies and babies or toddlers don't go well together. Neither one of them properly understands the boundaries of the other, and they often treat each other badly. The puppy is invariably the loser in this scenario. Besides, she said, they don't have any puppies available here at C.A.R.E.

Oh. So, I learned some things.

She offered that they did have plenty of beautiful fully grown dogs that would be more appropriate for our family anyway. Please take a look. She didn't beg. She insisted.

We wandered down the aisle, a bit dismayed but wanting to check out the goods anyway. After all we'd come this far. There was a couple of very small miniature-style dogs including a chihuahua-type with a name tag of "Charlie" that caught our eye. Hmmm, same name as my oldest son and definitely smaller than even a normal puppy, we thought. Maybe...
But we wandered on. Then we came upon what appeared to us to be a 'golden retriever puppy' with a name tag "ButterScotch". Perfect! Jeremi lit up. We were told that she was actually fully grown and was probably a mix between a golden retriever and some other "significantly smaller dog". I tried hard not to imagine the actual mixing which occurred to create this lovely dog. The stern face explained, this dog wouldn't grow any more and was actually a good size and temperament for a house with small kids. Not too big, not too rowdy, well-behaved. Jeremi could probably handle her on a leash already, they suggested. Of course, that meant BS (Butterscotch) was immediately put on a cheap plastic leash made of red twine and we were sent out to the parking lot with her "just to see how it feels". Jeremi could barely contain herself as she ran and giggled and tried to keep up. BS wagged her tail and Jeremi would have if she had one. BS was very skinny and she walked with an odd wiggle in her hind legs. They looked out of line with the rest of her body, like she needed a rear end alignment, rotation and balancing - or something. I asked if she had been hit by a car - or something? They politely told me that they couldn't tell me even if they knew - and they don't. The dogs were all cleared by a vet for general health and this dog was fine and full of energy and we'd be doing her and ourselves a tremendous favor if we took her home with us... Hmmm, I looked down at Jeremi and she was absolutely beaming! So I said, we'll take her, but what is the cost? You see, all we have is this coupon from Santa... After careful examination of said coupon for authenticity, validity, expiry and an intense discussion on the definition and applicability of the phrase 'One (1) Puppy' to this case, they accepted the coupon! Ahh, the magic of Christmas!
After a brief side discussion that resulted in me paying $125 for "One (1) Red Leash" we were on our way home. Jeremi sat in the backseat of the car buckled up with BS sitting obediently at her side. I glanced back in the rear view probably a thousand times because Jeremi's eyes were so wide and her smile so huge as she just stared in silence at HER NEW PUPPY! She was clearly ecstatic. It was an hour drive home and I swear I've never seen someone smile so hard for so long in my life.


At home we quickly agreed that 'ButterScotch' was a mouthful, BS was inappropriate, and we should give her a new name. The boys were watching a Peanuts cartoon, and so we decided on the name "Sali" with an "i" at the end, just like Jeremi. In Japanese we'd call her "Sa-chan". Then we took Sali to Derby Park and discovered she would bark defensively at any other dog she met. We also discovered that if we threw a tennis ball as far as we could onto the grassy field, she would run it down and bring it right back to us time after time after time after time...

...and time itself did go on a long walk. It is now thirteen Christmases and hundreds of slobbered tennis balls later. Time flowed with hope and cheer, easily and joyously for years. We played with Sali at the park and the beach and she always barked rudely at the other dogs. We got pet hamsters, guinea pigs, hermit crabs and an imperious cat and Sali accepted them all graciously. Then a beach tragedy cost us our Charlie, and turned Time into a grief stricken, merciless struggle. It no longer flowed, but rushed hard out of our hearts. Time trudged on painfully, desperately, hopelessly. Time would pass regardless of whether we had an unwaveringly faithful pet dog at our side, or not.

And that very same Time turned our beloved D-O-G very O-L-D.



Jeremi is now in her third year in college and has her whole life ahead of her. Sali, on the other hand, does not. Her golden fur turned white and she slowly lost her eye sight and then her hearing. She lost control of her rear left leg completely when arthritis finally shook the wiggle loose. She lost control of her bowels and finally stopped eating entirely. We called in the vet to 'do the right thing' so she wouldn't suffer any longer. We all stroked her fur while she lay on our living room floor on a beach towel with a scene of a Hawai'in sunset on it. The injection mercifully and swiftly took her from us. Another life, and love, lost on a beach.



Today is Wed. January 28, 2009. I miss you, Sal.

"hanging by a thread"

Time to move forward, straight but not narrow.
Well, the evidence is all around us.
The ice caps are melting from west to east.
""scientists in Antarctica say a major ice shelf is about to break away from the continent. The Wilkins Ice Shelf is said to be "hanging by a thread" from the Antarctic Peninsula, the strip of land pointing from the white continent towards the southern tip of South America.""

Fuck! I just put 1,000 miles on my 96 volt EV Rabbit, powered by a 3.4 Kw solar panel system on the roof of my house, the front door of which is all of 50 feet above sea level. Fuck! Why the USA isn't on board with this lifestyle, yet, I'll never know. But maybe, now is the time. It's time to feed from the sun, not the earth.
Feeding In Renewable Energy Breakthroughs
http://www.greentechmedia.com/articles/feeding-in-renewable-energy-breakthroughs-5556.html

So he's gone now. Off into a beautiful sunset brightly colored by the greenhouse gasses he did nothing about. Baby George is happy now, back in Texas with his fam damily. You can bet they're listen' to both kinds of music: Country and Western. You betcha!
And here's the song W oughta sing to all of us.
Brenda Lee's, I'm Sorry. (mea culpa, I changed one lousy word.)



I'M SORRY

I'm sorry, so sorry
That I was such a fool
I didn't know
Love could be so cruel
Oh oh oh oh uh-oh oh yes
You tell me mistakes
Are part of being dumb(ya)
But that don't right
The wrong that's been done
(I'm sorry) I'm sorry
(So sorry) So sorry
Please accept my apology
But love is blind
And I was to blind to see.
Oh oh oh oh uh-oh oh yes
You tell me mistakes
Are part of being dumb(ya)
But that don't right
The wrong that's been done
Oh oh oh oh uh-oh oh yes
I'm sorry, so sorry
Please accept my apology
But love was blind
And I was too blind to see
Sorry


YEEE HA!




Or. Willie Nelson sang it best, of course.
I changed one word of his lyric, and I want to dedicate it to W.
... and tell him, "Hey Texas! Don't Mess With Vermont!"


Somewhere in Texas
A cowboy dreams of the days
When the buffalo roamed
And he wished he had lived then
Cause he knew that he could have been
The best cowboy
The world had ever known
He went dancing that night
With his San Antone rose
The one he would marry someday
To the music of Bob Wills
And polkas and waltzes
While beautiful time passed away
Going home in this pickup not knowing this stickup
Was in progress on the same side of town
By a man in a truck the same kind he was driving
Bad karma was soon coming down
Before the store owner died she had tried to describe
The man who had shot him that day
And he described to a letter the misunderestimated cowboy
So he tried him and sent him away

W is for Whatever.

As they used to say at the height of the British Empire.
"The King Is Dead. Long Live The King."

Amen,
--F;

God Bless Everyone...

Pic - The Yahoo poll map the day before the historic election, November 3, 2008.

Even America.

Out With The Old. In With The... New?

2009 is starting out full of loss.

I mentioned Jerry Mac in my previous post. The 18 year old young man paralyzed from the collarbone down after taking a header off a dirt bike on the 2nd day of this new year. I visited him once and am wishing for a miracle for his complete recovery. It will be a long year - or years - for him and his family, but the one thing they know they have that is most critical is HOPE. I know too well what it's like to live without that most important piece. I hope to support them through this struggle in some way, and run in his honor - along with Charlie, of course.

On the 9th day of this new year, my last remaining colleague in the Localization Department where I work resigned for a better job and a chance to work back in Asia. I took ScottC and his beautiful young Thai wife to lunch that day and wished them well. I'm literally the last man standing in department that once had a multimillion dollar budget and almost 30 people. It makes me feel incredibly vulnerable in these days of cost-cutting. I know. I'm not alone.

On the 12th day of this new year, my angel for years said goodbye. I am forever grateful for this angel who basically saved my life and taught me how to live and love again. If you have ever been blessed with such an angel in your life you will know what I'm talking about. Maybe angels are not meant to stay forever. Maybe that's why they have wings. That's all I'll say.

There are other ominous signs of loss looming in 2009.

Job cuts and investment losses are mounting and threatening everyone across the world. Barack, buddy, I wish you the courage to reshape this world to something more sustainable, humane and compassionate.

Much more closer to home, and much more important really, our beloved dog, Sali, is literally on her last legs. She is a mix between a golden retriever and some smaller dog. Jeremi got a 'coupon from Santa' good for One Dog Of Your Choice in 1986. She picked out this fully grown dog from the CARE (Companion Animal Rescue Effort) in Santa Clara one Saturday on the way home from Japanese school. They didn't know how old she was, but she had been 'mistreated' and walked with a little twist in her back legs. Now her rear right leg appears useless and is practically falling off. Arthritis has crippled her but she can still walk. Her eyes are both milky white from cataracts. She lost a front tooth on the floor near her bed last week. She doesn't eat much of anything anymore but biscuits and hot dogs, if that, so she isn't taking her pain or arthritis medicine either. She is skinny and weak and sometimes falls down on the slippery pergo kitchen floor and can't get up. Her face fur is almost completely white. She's lost control of her bowels for the most part, too, and is leaving a trail of loose poop on the carpet every morning now.
The signs are all there and certainly I don't want her to suffer. Yet, she'll still try to walk to the ocean or Derby Park and back. She'll still bark at other dogs she meets during her walk - even at imagined dogs that really aren't there. She'll still wag her tail when I pet her. She'll still move her feet and legs while she sleeps, dreaming of chasing a tennis ball (or better prey) perhaps. I look up in our living room at the self-portrait close-up photograph Charlie took of his face with his 'Wild Card' Red Sox cap on next to a younger more vibrant Sali. I go to snuggle Sali, and she'll still lick the tears off my face when I do.

You never know.

Holiday break - and another heart break

Over the holiday break I watched some movies and read most of a book. In these stories, a recurring theme of 'follow your passion' or 'use your time, here it's precious' presented itself to me at the end of year. Telling me to get to it in 2009, I suppose. 'It' meaning my own life's true passion and calling.

"The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" was a wonderful movie . I want to watch it again. During the movie he mentions a few times that opportunities taken or not, fateful turns and being true to oneself are important to pay attention to, time marches on and there are really no second chances. So we best get to being our own true selves NOW - is what went unsaid. The F. Scott Fitzgerald short story this movie is based on would be a fun read. The movie is long, but without a wasted moment and I highly recommend it.

"Man on Wire" was an incredible documentary on DVD. For me, someone who is terrified of heights, whoa, it is, as they say in the Princess Bride, inconceivable. Almost hard to believe what this man and his team pulled off, but it's all true! And if there was ever a person on this earth who lived purely in the moment and unflinchingly followed his passion, well Phillipe Petit is the guy. This Frenchman is the real deal, and thus begs the question: is this guy a role model or clearly insane or both. I don't think he cares what you think - he's in love with what he does. Must be.

"Ghost Rider" is a book by Neal Peart, the drummer and lyricist for the Canadian classic rock band RUSH. His memoir is about his lengthy journey on a BMW motorcycle all over the western hemisphere in search of himself shortly after suffering the loss of his daughter and then his wife in the span of 12 months. Neal also talks about his admiration for the writer Jack London, his hero, who's credo is simple: life is short, time is precious, so use it well. Jack died at the age of 40. Neal, the 'ghost writer' and 'ghost rider' talks a lot about the 'that person he used to be' but is no longer and his need to find a place in real life again. Wow, a lot of his statements are seemingly taken directly from my own mind.

Then, earlier this week, the real world reared back and returned with a bitch slap to the face which stings worse from the salty tears.

I wrote this email Tuesday (1/6/9) night:

Chris Proffitt is a former x-country team mate of Charlie's. He and his family have been a big source of encouragement and support through the years. Chris ran some training runs and races with me before the SF Marathon two years ago and has always had kind words and great memories to share of Charlie and our trips to the freshman XC meets together. He's on the UC Irvine track team and keeps me posted. His mom, Trish, organized the talent show at the middle school where Charlie's garage band, Scrap Metal, won first place. She let me know this sad news yesterday...

Another one of Chris' friends and XC H.S. team mates (same class as Charlie), Jerry MacCallister, had a dirt bike accident on Jan 2 and is currently paralyzed. He's had two surgeries, but so far all he can do is blink. I don't know Jerry personally but I have seen him run. I will visit him in the TCU at Santa Clara Valley Med Ctr (same hospital, same wing Misao was in) tomorrow after work to give him some encouragement.

If you think 2009 is going to be tough for you (..and pretty much I think we all do!), just stop and think for a moment what this young man and his family are fighting for right now.

You never know.

http://followingjerry.blogspot.com/

Please take care,
--Scott;
""

Further info:

Here's what happened:
http://www.riderdown.org/forum/showthread.php?s=d6ffe176c06109a5d2beb6d5edc5eb73&t=1460


And the Facebook group to follow Jerry:
http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=44783796493

And I posted this just tonight after visiting them.
""
I met Jerry, Dennis and Katie for the first time at the hospital this evening. The SCVMC hospital that's all too familiar to me, since I watched my own wife walk out of there after a serious car accident just ten months ago. Jerry looked me in the eyes and seemed bright and alert, but a bit perplexed by the strange man with too much to say who came to visit. Jerry - I hope to let you do all the talking on my next visit. Dennis and Katie both are strong, courageous and very compassionate parents who obviously have tremendous faith. We all want to see the miracle happen here and see this brave young man continue to recover. Take it one day at a time and feel the love from everyone pulling for you.
Be Well!
--Scott;
January 8, 2009 12:02 AM
""

Katie, Jerry's mom, posted a blog entry about finally being able to communicate with Jerry enough to know he wanted to hear his Zune, and he wanted to hear music for 'Death Cab for Cutie'. I saw the post and googled for the group and from a list of about 50 songs clicked on one of them randomly to see the lyrics.

These are the lyrics I read:

http://www.metrolyrics.com/all-is-full-of-love-lyrics-death-cab-for-cutie.html

All is Full of Love (apparently a remake of a Bjork song)

you'll be given love
you'll be taken care of
you'll be given love
you have to trust it
maybe not from the sources
you've poured yours
into
maybe not
from the directions
you are
staring at
twist your head around
it's all around you
all is full of love
all around you
all is full of love
you just ain't receiving
all is full of love
your phone is off the hook
all is full of love
your doors are all shut
all is full of love


And here it is on youtube:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jqHPgFygMkk

Wow. Is that both powerful and haunting, or what?

My thoughts and prayers are with Jerry and his family. Godspeed in your recovery.
You are one brave young man.