Reunion

Back row:
Mister Handsome, Wayne, Kristi
Front row:
Bonnie, Regina, Laura, Mary Kay, Sara

Bonnie has aged much better than that guy in the picture.

I hate it when people age a whole lot better than I do.  It sure seemed that way today.  Had I been vain enough to care, I would not have had such a good time.

Today was a little lunch time reunion, impromptu, mostly for the small group of sketch actors and writers who worked together to start a little theatre company at a new church in Naperville, Illinois over 25 years ago.  The group started with three of us as the nucleus — Mary Kay (writer/director, occasional actor), Bonnie, and yours truly.  A lot of people credit us for helping to grow a group that spawned a large creative arts group that is flourishing in a church that now boasts over 5000 people in attendance each weekend.  We were just having fun.. and we gave a lot of blood, sweat and tears while having that fun.

When we started our theater group, we performed sketches for every weekend service.  Until our group grew in size, Bonnie and I were on stage almost every weekend.  That is a lot of memorized lines, a ton of rehearsal time, and a lot of time spent at church.  I was like a brother to Mary Kay and Bonnie, we did a lot together.  Bonnie and I were constantly teasing each other.. like siblings do.  She even took me to family get togethers, her family like my own.  We shared a lot together.  And seeing her today was real special to me.  We picked up right where we left off some 10 years ago or more.  As you might be able to tell from the picture, we were inseparable today.  It was so much fun!

And it was great to see everyone.  Lives had changed but everyone, honestly, really was the same.  That made it so good.  No pretentiousness.  No one competing.. something that made our group so special 20 some years ago.  There were a lot of people missing from our group, cogs who added something more when they joined.  There was Thom, an advertising exec from New York who wrote some of the funniest scripts I have ever read or performed.  Eric, a professional theatre producer who eventually joined staff at the church and who is an incredible talent.  Anne Marie, who brought backstage experience and enthusiasm to our team.  Vince, a fun geek with a gift for comedy.  Gary, a humble savant who became one of my favorite actors to share the stage with — so much that scripts were written specifically for the both of us.  The list of people could go on simply because we had a good thing going that made people want to be a part of it.

I could still feel that today as I shared with some of those friends.  One of my favorite moments was when Mary Kay told about her favorite sketch, one she wrote for Gary and I — running characters that we performed many times after that first sketch.  We were Vern and Elmer, two retired factory workers who hung out on the front porch and talked about the neighbors as they walked by.  For the first sketch, Gary (Vern) learned to play the harmonica and played it as my gruff Elmer complained in patriotic snobbery as the young mini skirt clad school teacher who drove a ‘fer-in’ car walked by our porch.  In later sketches, Bonnie and Mary Kay played our big butted wives, Vernetta and Clara.  Honestly, it felt great to hear the appreciation for those characters that I enjoyed playing during what really was a magical time of my life.

Bonnie lives in the Pittsburgh area with her husband now.  Mary Kay is in Indiana, although she produces for a theatre company in Chicago, asked me if I would consider a role in a production (yes).  Wayne and Regina live close by, as does Sara and Kristi.  I am the only one still going to the church where we we started.

Reunions can be fun.  I loved this one.  I am going back to the first church I served after I graduated from college.  That visit will be next Sunday.  It has been thirty years since I have been there!

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You Are Never Alone

I am incredibly infatuated with you, Miss Internet.  You look out for me, you entice me with your charms.

And because of you, I am never alone.  You help me to feel good about myself by making it oh so easy to discover that there are plenty of screw up doofs just like me.  Thanks to search engines.  All that I have to do is confess my sin to Google and I see that there are indeed plenty of others with the same affliction.

Take today, for instance, when I typed “2010 VW Key Fob Washing Machine”.  137,000 results.  Forums with numerous thread posts involving VW key fobs left in pockets and washed in the laundry, more than one individual confessing that they had performed that operation more than once.

Nifty little pieces of tech. There is no such thing as a simple car key any more.

I don’t feel so bad now.  Especially since there were many solutions posted to repair the malfunctioning key fobs.  Thanks to other industrious miscreants such as myself, I was able to find a cheap fix — a new battery.

Yes, I left the key fob for my VW in the back pocket of my bicycle jersey when I got home last Saturday morning.  My ever laundry industrious wife threw the sweat soaked jersey immediately in the washer.

A few minutes later, I wondered why I heard a clunk inside our clothes washer.  It didn’t register right away.  As a matter of fact, it didn’t register until Nate asked me for a ride to the school.  Where was my car key?  Oh yeah.  Clunk clunk clunk.

The key fob worked until yesterday, when I could no longer use the keyless entry function on my car.  Oops.

But it works now, so I am not totally stupid.  Only partially stupid am I.

I wish the solution would have been as easy to fix my 64 gig iPod Touch when I dropped it in the toilet.  Ouch.  I did find out I was not alone then either.  Plenty had made the same mistake.  Plenty had found out that iPods and water, especially toilet water, are not compatible.

Thanks to the internet, I will never be alone.

Why I Bike

Saturday mornings are made for snuggling under a warm comforter for a few extra hours of sleep.

Wrong!  Not for cyclists.  Saturdays are the day to get that long ride in, to get out with your friends for a satisfying workout.  These days I don’t use my alarm Monday through Friday.. I only use my alarm for the 5 AM wake up on Saturday morning.  I growl a little when the alarm goes off, then peel the covers off quickly, that shock of cool air waking me enough that it’s just a tad easier to swing my legs over the side of the bed.  I trudge to the bathroom, brush my teeth as the mint from the paste wakes me a bit more, then pull on my cycling clothes as I venture down the dark stairs to the garage.  From there the fun begins.

Usually I already know what bike I am going to ride before I go to bed.  It’s not an eeny meany miney mo choice because the people I ride wait for Saturdays with baited breath, arrangements for our rides set up by a string of emails by Thursday or Friday.  We know where we are going to meet, how far or long we are going to ride, what the bike of choice will be.  This time of year the bike of choice is always my mountain bike, my friends Jon and Jim always ready to ride off road when the air turns cool.  Usually we have a few other friends that join us, but it’s always us three getting dirty on Saturday morning.

So I throw my mountain bike on the back of the VW, toss my helmet, hydration pack, gloves and shoes in the passenger seat, and head out for a quick coffee to take with me to the start of the ride.  We like to get to the start before dawn, watch the sun come up as we catch up on the week, ease into the prep for our ride.  I like Jon and Jim, always casual and easy going even as the pedals start turning, very capable and experienced riders.  We ride hard, but never try to punish each other.  It’s more about being out on the trails together and soaking in the joy of creation.

She’s Baaaaaaaack

She walked through the door last night at 7:30, a young woman with an expression of familiarity, as if she had partaken of the fruit from the tree of knowledge and tasted the sweet nectar of freedom.  I could see it on her face — an acknowledgement that the girl who walked out that door six weeks ago had changed ever so slightly.  It was as she had passed the ghost of her former self as she came through the door.  The memory of that girl still remained in our house, in her bedroom shrine, a welcomed strangeness as she ventured in.

“Don’t be too shocked when we see what we have done to your room.” I quipped as Alyssa trudged up the stairs to her bedroom.  She chuckled.

Her room does look different, mainly because it’s CLEAN.

Mom stood at the front door for a full half hour, unmoving with cell phone in her hand, anticipating our daughter’s arrival as she watched for the car to pull up.  Chester, our orange cat, sat on the couch looking out the door over Miriam’s shoulder.  Our faithful Shetland sheepdog stood by her side, not knowing why she was there but certain it was important for him to participate.  I swear they both jumped in simultaneous joy as the car pulled into our drive way, Miriam literally squealed with joy, Nick barked while standing on his back legs to look through the screen door.

I stayed at my perch like the dad I am, calm and watching my text with hidden anticipation.  Alyssa had texted Miriam, so I knew she when she was close.  My instructions were to wait for the text, then place the pizza order.

Yep.  They don’t have REAL pizza in Indiana like we have here in Chicagoland.  Lou Malnati butter garlic crust deep dish, The Lou with spinach, mushrooms, Italian sausage, sliced roma tomatoes, four kinds of cheese.  Alyssa freshened up, then we zipped out for pizza.

It’s funny the difference between my wife and I.  Miriam could not hide her excitement, talked a mile a minute, smothered our daughter with attention.  I gave my daughter a big hug, followed her upstairs to her room to see her reaction, the glow of having my daughter back burning on my face.  But like always, I gave my daughter her space and went back downstairs to wait, let her relax and settle in, waited for her to come to me — because she always does.  Alyssa always seeks me out, likes to get that time where she gets my total uninterrupted attention, when it’s just me and her.  Someone caught me at church talking to Alyssa after having one of those times with her, our breakfast dates, and they tried to get a picture of the satisfied smile on my face.

Yes, I really missed my daughter.  I knew I did miss her, just did not realize how much until she walked through that door last night.

And we got our time this morning.  I took her over to our middle school, where she was asked to reunite with the girls from the flute choir she lead while she was in high school.  The band director asked her to come this morning, paid her to teach three ‘master sessions’.  I picked her up afterwards, didn’t rush back to work, spent some time with her at Starbucks instead.

Feels nice.  Sunday afternoon is when she goes back.  I will lose a bit of that happiness when she goes back.

Miracle?

Opportunity sometimes just falls in your lap.

Your mind went there, didn’t it?

OK, maybe it didn’t.  Mine should not have.  And you may just be totally confused right now.

My wife was offered a job last week.  Out of the blue, someone she sees now and then recommended her for a job.  It has nothing to do with laps, just to clarify.  That is a different kind of opportunity and I am pretty sure Mir would turn that opportunity down.  This opportunity did fall in her lap, just as she was starting to think about applying for jobs.  A daughter turned college freshman, with real college debt to think about, had her thinking seriously that maybe just maybe it was time to try to make my paycheck do it all.  Neither is the meager pay she gets working as lunch lady at the elementary school.  So when a job coach for a disabled woman who works at the school lunchroom told her that there might be an opening with her company, Mir expressed interest.

One interview later, Mir had a job offer to work with company that helps physically and mentally disabled people of all ages find jobs, then assists them with that new job.  Mir has a sociology degree and worked for an organization called Little Friends when I met her (I was not a client).  This is a job she is qualified for.  She will have to learn to work on her own as very little of the job will involve going to an office.  That will be tough for her, but it also gives her flexibility and control over her schedule.  I am glad to see she is excited about the job.

So am I.  Hopefully this will take some strain off of our finances.  I probably should not (and won’t say) what other thought is in my head, but it might help something else to happen.  Or it might prevent something else from happening.

Miracles still exist.  I never thought my wife would want to work, actually work and earn a real paycheck.

Ain’t that positive thoughts from a positive, sunshine boy?

Honesty

The Cardinals beat the Dodgers tonight.

I sat in a Buffalo Wild Wings close to my office, by myself, drank too much, and was blissfully satisfied to watch my team advance to the league championship… again.  There is not a yawn to follow as I am happy to see my team win again.. and again.. and again.

Smug happens.

There are times when I wish I was free to celebrate with whomever I wish.  Instead, I celebrated by myself and the one Cardinal fan in the bar.

My wife doesn’t care.

And the strangest thing happened.  Friends started messaging me to congratulate me.  It may have been the beer, but it was as if the wall of defense mechanisms did not exist.  At least two friends started sharing with me in a way that they never have before.

Weird.

It was probably me.

I need to change things.