Category: Life

The Trouble With Writing…

7/5/2014

The trouble with writing is, well, writing. Getting started writing to be more specific. Once I sit myself down in front of the keyboard, mind cleared, thoughts focused; the words just seem to appear, as if by magic. It’s the getting here that’s the trouble.
I haven’t written, for the sheer pleasure of it at least, for quite some time, and that, I must admit, I regret. There is something wonderful and freeing about writing. Frankly, I’ve missed it. With that said, here I am, pen in hand (well, keyboard actually), ready to ramble for your reading pleasure (or dismay). I will post what I write with the hope that some of you will enjoy my efforts. Your comments are appreciated.
Before I get back to it, one final note. I am at heart a political animal. I have very strong beliefs, and am very passionate about them. However in the words I write here, I will not travel down that road. As in the past, THIS writing is for pleasure, mine, and hopefully yours. I will write about whatever interests or amuses me; whatever moves me, the things we all experience.

Let's Talk Football

1/16/2012

We live in Wisconsin and it is the day after the Packers failed to advance in their run for back to back Super Bowl wins. So let's not talk football. Or on the other hand, Let's Talk Football!
Football indeed, but not the pro's, oh no. Let's talk about College Football.

As My son continues his Junior year in High School, the search for a college begins. Well, at least that is what you would think, but in his mind, the search is over. He clued me in on his parameters for a school late this past summer: Pretty far from home, warm weather, and a Division I school with great sports teams. I knew where this was headed. He and I have traveled to Oklahoma and Texas for the past five years over spring break to give him an early start on the motocross season.

Of all the places we have visited on those trips. none is more a true home to motocrosss, than Stillwater Oklahoma. Just by chance this is also the location of Oklahoma State University. It is a great school, has excellent programs in his area of study, and yes, it is a Division I school with excellent teams. Football, Basketball and Wrestling top the list. So on a three day weekend fall trip, we did the power drive from Northern Wisconsin to O.S.U. for a little motocross riding, and if my son has his way, his one and only campus visit. He was bent on it before we got there and nothing we experienced changed his mind. To the contrary, the campus is gorgeous, the staff and students excellent hosts and the facilities, well, flat out amazing. T.Boone Pickens, oil billionaire, is an alum of O.S.U. and has dug deep in his pockets to support his alma mater. One of the tour highlights is the football stadium. Seating 60,000 plus, this is exactly what he was looking for; the quintessential college experience. Huge crowds, a winning team, marching band and all.

The trip was a total success, and academically, it works very well, acceptance seems likely and the costs; well let's just say we can get it done. Gulp. At years end we were able to watch the OSU Cowboys win over Stanford in an absolutely crazy overtime game. He didn't just enjoy that game. He climbed right on in; might as well have been there. Just over a year, one last year, then off to college he goes, I'll be sad to see him go, but I am so proud that he is ready.

I'm in Tune....

6/23/2011

I was out in the driveway today working on an enclosed trailer we use for hauling dirt bikes. It was time to finally put in those fluorescent lights I have been promising my son for so long. Like most projects, I was getting totally wrapped up in my work. It’s almost a zen state; at one with the task at hand; the clock irrelevant. What’s the next step, ah, there is just the tool I need. The radio is blasting my favorite classic rock station and I am “right in tune” to the strains of The Who singing “teenage wasteland”. The smell of fresh cut grass fills the air, along with that musty dampness that follows a couple of days of uninterrupted rain. The sun peeks out now and then. Then it hits me, what am I now, fifty seven? Hmmmm, what’s the deal? I remember days just like this when I was in my teens; loving my music, engrossed in what I was doing, my mind lost in the combination. I don’t really feel any different now than I did then. Seriously; and yes, I know the bones creak a bit, and I sure get sore more quickly, but at the core of it, I really feel the same. Just as focused, just as into the music. The work, the sights, the sounds, the smells, and most importantly how I feel at the moment… all pretty much the same. So there it is, I’m in tune, right in tune, just like I have been for a very, very long time.

Here Comes the Sun

5/6/2011

In the sixties, the Beatles sang: “Here Comes the SUN.” I am happy to say that after “a long cold lonely winter,” that the sun has indeed arrived. After months of pining (and yes I have to admit, whining), the SUN has finally arrived. The grass is green, the buds on the trees are beginning to open, and the birds sing endlessly from dawn to dusk. Best of all, the temperatures up here on the frozen tundra of northern Wisconsin have finally risen to the point of opening the doors and windows. Ah, the sweet delight of a home filled with fresh spring air. As much as the winter wears me down more with each passing year, the blossoming of spring can only be truly experienced if you have suffered through that “long cold lonely winter.” The longer and colder the winter; the sweeter the spring that follows. It snowed a few last flakes here, just this past Sunday, but today, ah, today; sun, birds, green grass, and lovely fresh spring air.

There is such a feeling of exhilaration when you step outside on these early spring mornings, the smells, the sounds, and that lovely warmth of the sun, high in the sky. The end of the school year is only a few weeks off, and although it was a bit frosty, we have already enjoyed our first camping trip of the season. Summer trips, hikes in the woods, holiday weekends and barbecues, lie ahead . Our enjoyment is all the sweeter, knowing as we do, that winter follows. We have to grab our warm, wonderful spring and summer and squeeze everything out of it. Up here, we don’t take a lovely day for granted, we bask in it, we cherish it, and we remember it fondly during the following winter.

IT\'S COLD INSIDE

4/15/2011

Recently I shared, “I got the fever.” Now the tables are turned. The fever has been replaced by a big chill, a chill that has shaken me to the core. Let me explain. There are five of us in our family: Me, my wife Deb, Our Daughters Anika and Alyssa, and our son Erik. Just a couple weeks ago, we celebrated our 25th anniversary and on that occasion I took time to reflect on the past quarter-century.

I realized quickly that we are very near the end of the road of raising kids, at least in the traditional sense. I know that you never really retire from being “Mom” or “Dad.” I get that, I really do. However, our oldest, Anika, is almost done with college and has a great career already in the works. She is done in one month. Alyssa, second born has been back at home for a while, but has plans to move soon. Last but not least, Erik our youngest and “trailer child” is sixteen. He is working two part time jobs and as a sophomore, will be done with high school in two short years. They drive, they work, they have relationships; in short, their lives are busy and full. As for Deb and I, the empty nest is imminent, lurking around the corner like a cold dark storm, ready to sweep in and chill us to the bone.

There is such satisfaction in seeing our chldren move through life, sharing their hurt and pain, reveling in their successes. It’s been that way for the past twenty five years, but not for much longer. This impending change is a big one. I long for those years when the kids were younger, and I was less gray. So here I am, feeling a bit cold and lonely. As with all change, the future will bring us wonderful things: trips to visit our children, and someday, grandchildren. “Good night honey.” “Goodnight daddy, I love you.” “I love you too honey, I love you too.”

RESPECT YOUR ELDERS

12/19/2010

As a child of the sixties, I was, as were most, sucked into the counter-culture. I didn’t fall irrevocably into that endless pit of quicksand, but for a time, I “checked out” of mainstream America. A major part of the “movement” was to disregard all that our elders had to teach us.

Our government, our parents, tried and true institutions that were the foundation of our society were ignored and in some quarters, reviled. They had been defined as “the system,” the enemy. We, trapped within the confines of our tiny inexperienced and undeveloped minds, were sure that we had all the answers; how wrong, how sad. What a waste of a generation.

I have finally reached that point in life where I get it. It being why one should respect their elders; the truth in the concept is evident in virtually all tribal cultures to this day, and was until the sixties, practiced in western society. As I talk with my two now adult daughters and my teenage son, I am amazed at how few questions they ask fall out of the scope of my knowledge and experience. The tables are turned, I am now a member of that “older” generation; one of those that historically earned the respect of those younger.

The dictionary definition of WISDOM is: 1. The ability to discern or judge what is true, right, or lasting; insight. 2. Common sense; good judgment. 3a. The sum of learning through the ages; knowledge. b. Wise teachings of the ancient sages.

I think they dig a little too deep on that one. My definition of wisdom is simple and to the point:

“Wisdom is knowledge gained through observation and experience.”

A lot of the wisdom I have gained can be expressed in a few short phrases:

“Screw me once, shame on you, screw me twice, shame on me.”

“Assume nothing, trust no one, not even yourself.”

“That which does not kill you makes you stronger.” Nietzsche (very old, but very true)

“I hear, I forget; I see, I remember; I experience and I understand.” Confucius

“Life is what you make it.” Art Erickson (my father in law)

“You are above average, you can achieve whatever you want.” My dad, and most dads

The part I really didn’t get about respecting your elders when I was young, is that a lot of that knowledge gained comes at a price: Grief, pain, loss and at times, suffering.

Part two of the price is aging; that slow process of decline in vision, hearing, strength and health. I am still young enough that I am in pretty good shape, but the word “arthritis” has become part of my daily vocabulary.

So in the long and the short of it here is the message: My generation squandered the opportunity to learn from the wisdom of others, we forged ahead, often recklessly, without the benefit of the experienced guiding hands of those who had lived before us. What fools we were. It took a long time to unlearn those lessons of the sixties and come to this simple undying truth:

“Respect your elders; they have for you a wealth of knowledge, respect and love. Through you they achieve immortality as they impart those precious bits of themselves to you.”

So sorry for the long delay dad, but I get it now. I finally get it.

Too Many Cooks? NOT!!

11/24/2010

Yes it’s that time of the year. Turkey Day, Thanksgiving, That one day of the year that we gorge ourselves on the traditional feast. Front and Center: The Bird!! The American tradition is of course, Turkey dinner with all the trimmings. The list, to be complete, must include: Turkey, Dressing, Mashed Pototatoes and Cranberries. Now from that basic list things get interesting depending on where in this great land you live and of course your own family traditions.

In the South for example, cornbread dressing, greens and more. In our neck of the woods, the upper Midwest, the dressing is a traditional stuffing seasoned with saqe, and we all seem to also add some form of yams or sweet potatoes as well. Our family also holds to a pretty common tradition of the classic green bean casserole: French cut canned green beans mixed with Campbell’s cream of mushroom soup and topped with Durkee’s fried onions.

Many families, ours included, like to add some of their own special dishes. My wife’s family is Swedish, so we always have Swedish potato sausage (if you’ve never had it, it is very good) and the classic Swedish protein, Swedish meatballs. Too many cooks? Not with a menu as large as ours, not at all. We have always followed the American tradition of Pot-Luck style. Now for Thanksgiving, pot luck is a bit of a misnomer; for most families, as with ours, this is a regimented attack on the menu as planned. All duties are doled out, such that the complete meal comes from far and wide with MANY cooks, and no duplicated dishes. One special item on our menu, a perennial favorite is corn pudding. Corn pudding? What the heck is that? Well, I had never heard of it let alone tried it until my first Thanksgiving with my wife’s family 25 years ago. Think cream corn; pudding style. Rich, warm, silky smooth and very, very tasty. Aunt Ollie was the designated cook for corn pudding for decades before I joined the clan, and she continued her duties perfectly, well into her eighties. After her passing, the corn pudding faltered a bit. A few took a stab at it, and at times the no duplicate dishes rule was violated. After a time, our niece Jenny took over and mastered this unique dish. Firm yet smooth and creamy, with the top browned just so. Perfection in every bite. For all the plenty of this traditional day; food, family and football, it is that first mouthful of corn pudding that defines the day; the holidays are here at last. Yummmmm.

War of the Wheels

11/22/2010

It has often been said that America has a "love affair" with the automobile. I would put to you that once we get behind the wheel and in traffice, love is the farthest thing from our collective minds.
The relationship between people and their cars is a lot like people and their pets. We tend to personify them and make them extensions of ourselves. Up until about a year ago I drove a full sized pick up truck full time. Then I got a job with a serious commute and it made sense to buy a nice small fuel efficient car.
I picked a Honda Fit. Not only is it small, it's design makes it look even smaller.
I was unprepared for the change in my social place on the highway as I drove my shiny new car off the dealer lot.
The first thing I noticed is that there was a sudden increase in tailgating. I mean like every car behind me. If I was in the left lane moving with prevailing traffic, I would still have someone right on my bumper. Not only that, the bigger the vehicle behind me, the more aggressive the tailgating. I didn't get it right away, you know, the thought that driving behavior changes not only based on what someone is driving, but also how they relate on the road to vehicles of different types.
I have also found that I am the target for being cut-off if leave a space between me and the car ahead more than a foot longer than the offending vehicle. I have learned to follow rather closely in rush hour traffic so as to not be passed ten times per mile.
I drive that way I always have, even in my small car, and when cut-off, I tend to return the favor. This is very interesting in that the size and value of the vehicle that has done me wrong has a great deal to do with their response to my returning the favor. Suffice it to say, when I take my little car and swing in front of the semi that just nearly ran me over and "'hit the hooks" the driver's response is to threaten to run me over with his bumper on mine, horn and bright lights flashing. In the words of Mr. Spock, "fascinating". It seems that we equate behavior on the road with the vehicle and not the person. On the highway, size does matter.
Part two of this equation is "value" as in cost of the car. How dare you drive in front of my: Lexus, Accura, Infinity, Cadillac, Beemer or Mercedes with your tiny little S__t Box!!!
The arrogance and disregard for others on the highway is almost uniform with this crowd. As though their ability to "afford" their luxury car sets them above us all, above things like using a turn signal, ever... These behaviours seem to know no racial, ethnic or gender bounds. A trucker drives like a trucker, and little cars are driven, well, like little cars. Beemer drivers are as arrogant on the road as they tend to be walking down the street. The behavior on the road is just an exagerated version of who we are. I like to guess type of vehicle a person drives. It isn't hard to get right. I'm getting pretty good at it. Timid on the street, timid on the highway, likely driving a sub-compact. Worn blue jeans, flannels and a John Deere baseball cap, semi or pick up. .
The alarming thing is that on the street or in the grocery store, we all tend to behave a lot more the same. Get out on the road and our rolling cubicles separate us from those around us. Inside those walls of anonymity we become a caricature of ourselves. The timid, are even more so. The most aggressive? Let's just say it ain't pretty.

ON THE ROAD AGAIN....

11/15/2010

My son, our youngest is taking his driver’s test in a couple of weeks. How can this be? Wasn’t the summer after sixth grade just a few months ago? “Let’s do the Time Warp Again…” Where did those years go, when he could walk under the overhang on the kitchen island without bumping his head? That wasn’t so long ago was it? “Let’s do the Time Warp Again…”

For me, as a dad, the drivers license is the defining moment; the end of dependence. Each time it’s been a bittersweet event. Pride that my child, my son has conquered this milestone, moved one large step closer to manhood, and away from childhood. That’s all good right? Yes, all good, I won’t have to drop what I’m doing at inconvenient times to drop him off, or pick him up, or run him on errands, or a thousand other things.

But now, he’ll just do all that on his own; without us, without me. It’s all a natural progression towards adulthood and complete independence. Right?

“What I’d really like Dad is to borrow the car keys. See ya later can I have them please… and the Cat’s in the Cradle….”

His life will be fuller, his independence will grow, and well, we will spend less time together. I’ll miss that. I know I will. I hope he will too.

Dazed and Confused...

11/9/2010

I recently posted the following on Facebook:

ENOUGH ALREADY!! We all just listened to an entire year of political commercials..... And now it just moves to Facebook? I can TiVo the commercials away... What do you do here? Suggestions? And by the way... If you check elections for the past half a century, this country is about fifty-fifty. You’re not gonna change any minds posting the party line right or left here. Anyone wanna talk football?

A good number of folks that regularly appear on my wall have been posting all sorts of political commentary. What I find interesting in this is that their postings are usually an exact or nearly exact regurgitation of one TV or Radio personality or another. Often, they will thank some such for “revealing the Truth” about one point or another. Invariably, if you do a little REAL homework, you will find that little of what you hear anywhere from anyone is grounded in the TRUTH.

Now this isn’t a matter of taking sides or professing a particular party affiliation. No, this is simply a matter of reading, researching on government websites that by law must post the facts as they are and accepting that simple truth.

This parroting of stories without any Real knowledge has become rampant.

It was Ben Franklin who said:

                                “Believe none of what you hear, and half of what you see.”

There are no truer words for the times if you include the reading of “articles, blogs and commentaries” as that which you hear, and of course television as part of what you see.

These rigid stances based on beliefs in party line are so far from what most of us believe. If we talk, one on one, issue by issue, you will find that we agree on about eighty percent of things; eighty percent of things about which we know the hard truth.

We have become so inundated with sound bites and talking points, that we rarely look any deeper, and just take what we are fed at apparent face value. We glom onto our favorite: Columnist, blogger, anchor, commentator, or talk show host, and assume that all we see, read and hear is the truth.

Market share and ratings are what drive our “information train” these days. “The Colbert Report and the Daly Show” have become the primary news source for many of us… REALLY? You think I am kidding? Just ask around. What was once news, is about income, profitability and I repeat, ratings.

A relentless trend in all of this, is the never ending election cycle. Years ago, there was a “Campaign Season.” These seasons were one half, or even one third of what they are today. It now is literally never ending. Last week, ON ELECTION NIGHT, the jousting began. Who is presidential timber? Who will they choose for running mates? If the election (2012) were held today who would win such and such race??

For me, this says it all:

“There’s too much confusion, I can’t get no relief…”

                                Bob Dylan – All Along the Watchtower

OMG! Another Election!!!

10/3/2010

Every four years, we here in America, suffer the onslaught of information that accompanies the impending fall election. Now it seems, we are getting the same major onslaught of political ads and partisan rhetoric for this mid-term election. Now realize that this is an election for Representatives and Senators at the national level as well as local and state races. No presidential or vice-presidential candidates. That said, the commentary and commercials have been flying not only at the state and local level, but at the national level.
I will borrow a phrase from Dickens here: Bah HUMBUG!!!
I have come to realize that what we see on TV, hear on the Radio and read in our papers (the few of us that still subscribe) regarding politics is ALL so laden with slant and spin, that you just have to turn it all off. Turn it off NOW!!!
Enter Tivo. This is the coolest thing since sliced bread (whatever that means) or at least since Color TV. Here is what I suggest. Fast forward every political commercial, and use that downtime during your favorite show to do a little research on the folks who would have us hire them to run our country. Don't forget that not-so-small fact. These would be "leaders" of the free world, work for us. So let's act like bosses. Would you hire someone to babysit your kids without checking them out thoroughly, or at least getting awesome references form a trusted friend? Of course not. You and I exercise due diligence in our private and business lives, but when faced with the most important duty of any citizen of this great nation, we defer to Madison Avenue blather.
So, if you don't have Tivo, get it. Then you have no excuse for voting without good information. We are so quick to say "I just don't have time for that." "I trust so-and-so the news anchor..."" REALLY?
Would you trust them to pick your babysitter? I thought not. Lots is at stake in any election. Don't just show up and vote based on the mutual mud slinging and misdirection, rather, inform yourself. Find out how these people vote on issues important to you. This info is available on all sorts of site, like the congressional record.
A side benefit to Tivo... NO MORE GEICO COMMERICALS!!!

The REAL World’s Greatest DADS

6/21/2010

Another Father’s Day has just passed, the day when all of us who have the name DAD receive gifts and cards from our children. On this day the focus is on us and the accolades are heaped upon us, often in the guise of baseball hats and tee-shirts emblazoned with slogans like “World’s Greatest DAD”.

On this, our one special day, we bask in all the attention and love, thinking that we have been “pretty good dads”. Few of us would dare to think we are the greatest or the best. I myself often feel I have fallen short. There never seems to be enough time for each child, and work, and church, and chores, and projects… You get the picture.

I myself have tried to put my children first, embracing their hobbies and sports and whenever possible, doing things together as a family. With three children, two grown and gone, the last in high school. I can look back on good times and bad. I have my regrets as do we all. Harsh words spoken, moments we missed due to scheduling conflicts and travel.

Every Father’s Day, I think of those DADS that have been so selfless, so strong, and so brave. They do deserve the title World’s Greatest Dad. This past year I have traveled extensively. Whenever I meet our brave service men and women I thank them for their service. Many of them have children; Mom or Dad, halfway around the world, battling for freedom, heroes all.

This year three days before Father’s Day the following occurred in Wadena, a small town in rural Minnesota; a father there was concerned about the bad weather and the safety of his daughter. He owned a small business and it was his day off. His daughter was running the store that day. He stopped in several times to check on her as the weather worsened, just as a good worrisome father is expected to do. His last visit, sirens blaring he rushed into the store, moments ahead of a terrible tornado. He guided his daughter and the one patron present into the cooler and covered them with his own body. They both survived. He did not. The greatest gift a father could give to his child, his life, willingly given for theirs. We would all hope that if faced with similar circumstances we would act in kind. I pray that day never comes, but that I will be ready if it does. In the midst of their loss and grief, his daughter and his entire family, so sad for his passing, must be so proud of his gift of life, his ultimate sacrifice. A true hero, a true World’s Greatest DAD.

My Earth Day

6/10/2010

Earth Day was recently in the news as we passed yet another anniversary. The first Earth Day is spoken of with reverence; as though it was the first time that mankind grasped the nature of our planet and our tenuous existence upon it. The notion that there was no awareness before this first great day seems a bit ridiculous to me.

I remember with extreme clarity, a day in third grade in 1963. This was years before the first Earth Day. The teacher was talking about natural resources, you know, one of those topics that are listed when you look up the basic stats of any country along with population, terrain, climates etc. This particular day we were talking about natural resources around the world and how the United States had an abundance of many things that were scarce in other parts of the world, Gold, Silver, Copper and Iron Ore to name a few. As she spoke, I remember this bad feeling coming over me, a feeling of foreboding and ill. Much as if your mom had announced her impending arrival to your room to check that you had tidied up and made your bed, when indeed you had not.

We had terrariums in most of our classrooms back then and the teachers had explained to us that it was a closed system. One of them actually had a lizard inside to balance the oxygen and carbon dioxide so that it could be truly sealed. Our earth is no different, just a matter of scale. My eight year old brain grasped this instantly. As she talked about our use of natural resources I was overwhelmed with one distinct thought: The Earth is a closed system and we will eventually run out of all of it.

The word that should be in front of all natural resources is limited. None are limitless save the air we breathe and the water we drink, going through their endless natural cycles, oxygen to C02 and back again. Water on the ground or in our oceans and lakes, into us, animals and plants, then out again and back to the sky, over and over.

At this tender age and every day since, I think how we must be good stewards of this planet. We have all seen the slogan “Save the Planet”. This is really a misnomer, the planet will survive. If we blew ourselves up today, the Earth would be here until consumed by our Sun when it goes nova millions of years from now. What the slogan should be is “Save Life”. That is the real focus here, how we use those resources, how we care for the fragile ecosystems that make up this giant blue marble, this largest of terrariums, hurtling through space.

I have to admit that the feelings on that first day, that epiphany of understanding of our world and its limits, have diminished greatly since that day. That was my first Earth day. No marching, no angry talk. Just a profound sadness over the fact that we aren’t doing a very good job as stewards of our planet.

The current disaster in the gulf is the first time that my feelings have returned to what they were that day in third grade. How is it that the most powerful nation on earth can’t plug a hole in a pipe less than two feet across? That this has continued to spew, unabated this long is unconscionable. Where is the Army Corp of Engineers, where is the outcry and the effort to fix this and fix it now? All I see is talking heads on both sides pointing fingers. We need to put all possible effort into this and find a quick and complete solution and we need to do it now.

"One Heckuva Run"

4/19/2010

Precious, fragile, fleeting, and way too short. Life. Your born, you grow, you have your own children, they grow and on and on it goes. We have our triumphs and failures, our pains and pleasures. Neither wealth or position can slow or change this inexorable process. Life itself is what we all have in common. Seasons, holidays, births, graduations and yes, the end. Death. It’s the end of the road for us all. No escape, no pardon.

We were planning to all head out to the track this weekend, me my wife and my son. Another weekend of motocross; out camping and visiting with our part time neighbors. The phone rang mid week. My wife answered. It was her child hood friend. She had married my wife’s cousin and like us, their three children are pretty much grown. She had some bad news. Her grandmother had passed away. Ninety seven years old. I remember seeing her in recent years. Bright eyed, clear headed and well spoken and yet when at ninety seven someone dies we just accept it. In fact when someone makes it into their nineties we tend to say things like “she had a heckuva run”. No disrespect intended, rather simply a factual statement of how we feel. A long life, well lived is a heckuva run. We accept this passing as a natural step. We don’t feel the same though when the young are taken.

My son and I got to the track and unloaded the trailer. We were talking to our friends who were wondering where my wife was and if she was coming. “She had a funeral to go to.” A few words were exchanged about who, how old, etc. and on to other topics. It was a beautiful spring day, fresh crisp air and warm sunshine. The hustle of morning preparations in the “pits” as everyone worked to prepare their machines for the day’s riding. We hadn’t been there long when we heard the news. It was about one of the riders we regularly see at the track. Three of his high school friends had been in a crash that very morning. One was killed and another was in critical condition after a life flight. More word as the day passed. The second boy didn’t make it. He was the rider’s cousin. It was prom night for their small school. A class of eighty students, now seventy eight. One of the young riders friends balked at the news; “No way, you’ve got to be kidding” we just can’t take it in when the young leave us, suddenly or not.

Now of course when I was that age, I was just as incredulous. After all, we were the new young generation, indestructible, immortal. At the end of a long hot day, late in my senior year of high school I plopped into my seat at my last period class. Red faced and drenched in sweat. No air conditioning and I had just left gym class at the far end of the building. A good number of us had just come from gym, disheveled and half dressed with shirt tails out, hair still wet and uncombed. Mr. Desenfants sat on the front edge of his desk, lessons open behind him. The bell rang and the last few students took their seats. He looked across the room, smiled, shook his head and turned to close up his lesson book. “I don’t think we’re going to get much learning done today” he said. What followed was a rare experience. A full period of wide ranging conversation from how wonder bread is viewed in Europe as “air that has been taught to stand up” to the meaning and value and tenuous nature of life. He got us on that last one. “Do you all realize” he asked “that it is likely that one or more of your graduating class will not make it to the end of the year?" Silence, gasps, wide eyes. What was he talking about? C’mon, we are the new generation, invincible, immortal. A very interesting and sobering class period. He was right. Painfully right. I don’t recall the exact number any more, seven I think, did not make it to graduation. One was a friend of mine. By her own hand. Suicide. I could not grasp it. Dead, gone. Forever. Now don’t get me wrong, I am not one of those folks who can’t handle funerals. My grandmother was one of thirteen children. I was fine with funerals. Friends, classmates, different story altogether. Losing a friend, someone so close, so young. Beyond comprehension. I think of that day with Mr. Desenfants often. Pretty much whenever someone young leaves us.

My son and I spoke about it on our way home. How tough it was going to be for those kids, that entire school. Prom night. Two of their class. Tough stuff. A real eye opener for my son. For me as for all of us, that profound sadness when we see a life cut short. These moments always make me think of my children. How I want to continue to protect them from the world. An unrealistic goal for sure; to live life it has to be well, lived. There was a commercial on the news tonight. I don’t even remember what the pitch was for, but it showed a hockey player getting a phone call on the bench. At “MOM’s” request, he sang “itsy bitsy spider” for his little girl. His friends laughed as he turned and saw them in embarrassment. But did he really care? Of course not. One thing we do know about this life is that friends and family are what make it worth living. Our children are number one, what really drives us. Feed them, clothe them, put a roof over their heads and in my case, play them Brahm’s Lullably on the piano as they fell asleep. I know that as with all of us, my children too will leave this life one day, I can only hope and pray that it is after “a heckuva run” for each of them.