What's In A Name?

Although I am not a practicing Catholic, I still find that Catholicism impacts my life in various ways.

But I went to parochial school for twelve straight years (yes I can tie a Windsor knot in my sleep) and so it is expected that saints and sinners still permeate my existence.

This whole papal conclave that is all over the media made me want to address how my blog got its name.

Over the years I have been fascinated by many things spiritual and holy but it always goes back to one saint from my youth that has been a constant in my life: Saint Jude.

Saint Jude was the name of the elementary school I went to as a kid. He is one of the original twelve apostles. And he is also known as the patron saint of hopeless cases. People pray to St. Jude in times of trouble when they are facing seemingly impossible odds.

I have felt, since a young age, that I have always faced seemingly impossible odds. I was convinced I was going to die young by some terminal disease (thanks Brian's Song!). I had slit my wrist in elementary school when I accidentally ran through a glass storm door. Freshman year in high school one of the juvies in my homeroom deemed me cool because he thought the scars on my wrist were from a botched suicide attempt. At fifteen, I fell at a park on a broken beer bottle, stabbing me deeply in the belly (which left a scar that looks eerily Christ-like on my abdomen).

Later in life, in 2004, there was that near-death experience during a Sudafed-induced heart attack. Which, by the way, gave this blog its URL and my band its name.

So as you can see, I've always had a soft spot for Saint Jude because of some of the, what seemed at times, insurmountable odds I have personally overcome.

I leave you with this line from the Prayer to Saint Jude: Jude, saint of the impossible, let me never lose hope in the face of overwhelming odds, even when circumstances look like they will never turn out for the best.

Old School Skate Session

You should see what they can do now.

Still Trying

My boys are still trying to make the elusive viral video...

Perspective

You need to watch this video. Especially until the end where they put it into perspective.

Global warming anyone?

#chevyculture

I’m excited to announce that I’m now contributing to Chevy Culture, a lifestyle and auto site sponsored by Chevrolet. Click through for my full posts on Chevy Culture, and come back in the next few weeks and months for more.

An excerpt from Open Roads to Found Fathers:

WHERE: Mt. Vernon, Virginia via Washington, DC
WHY: Home to George Washington, the first President of the United States
HOW: Navigate your way through our nation’s capital, Washington, D.C., a city rife with history and rich with museums and cultural landmarks (including the Washington Monument, the world’s tallest obelisk). Yes, the city’s grid—designed by Frenchman Pierre Charles L’Enfant—can be confusing. Here’s a tip: Most of the diagonal streets are named after states, east-to-west streets are named with letters and north-to-south streets are numbers. Cross the 14th Street Bridge into Alexandria, Virginia, and go 8 miles south to Mt. Vernon.

SIGNIFICANCE: Our first president’s retirement home was also a plantation where he grew more than 60 crops including tobacco, flax and hemp.

An excerpt from Recharging for the New Year:

OJAI, CALIFORNIA
Nestled north of Los Angeles and south of Santa Barbara, and easily accessible from the Pacific Coastal Highway, Ojai has long been a spiritual retreat center. Known for its pink sunsets, Ojai is also known for being one of the early adopters of organic farming—a trip to the Ojai Certified Farmers’ Market is a must. If your body needs healing try a myofascial release (a technique of soft-tissue massage therapy) or a mud bath.

Myofascial release
A unique form of soft tissue therapy focuses on trigger points where the practitioner can gently apply indirect or direct pressure to deep tissue, similar to “rolfing,” where knuckles and elbows are used to apply pressure.

Mud bath
Hydrate your skin, relax your muscles and allow your mind to decompress with a mud bath. Mud baths and wraps are good for joint pain as it can ease inflammation. They also act as a purification therapy as the body will sweat out toxins during the treatment.


For more stories, please head over to the Chevy Culture website.

Get Yer Cook On

I'm dishing out kitchen tips over at Dadcentric.

Pop in and check out how to open a can (without a can opener), how to pickle and other time-saving tips for all those budding foodies.

And remember: Dads can cook too.

Telling Fish Stories

As promised.

And excerpt from my old journal slash manuscript.

May 19, 1993:

Ah! Starting to feel human again. Went for a gentle ride after work up this road by my house which eventually leads to a dirt road. At the top was a group of beehives. Four to be exact. "Raising honeybees," I thought. "Could be interesting."


Flushed out some quail shortly thereafter while pedaling up the dirt. I took (snap) shots of them with my mind. Mental pictures. Strange bird what with that little clever-like thing on its crown. On the way back down, I stopped at this tiny pond which was full of tadpoles. I haven't looked at tadpoles in a long, long time. Probably since the seventh of eight grade.

Sperm in the womb, swimming around until the day they grow arms and legs and move on out. It used to scare me. Their croaking that is.

I went to this KOA campground with Julio and Chuy Jiminez when I was in sixth grade. At night the bullfrogs croaked so loud it was deafening. We would walk over to the mini-dock that jutted out into the "lake" which was rumored to house one of the biggest lake bass this side of the Mississippi.

Yeah sure.

We found some fishing line with a hook still attached to it the next day by the dock. We put a hotdog on it for bait. Then gently lowered it into the water about three inches below the surface so we could still witness who was biting on it. And then when they did-Wham!-we'd pull up the line and have a little sunfish on it. The first time we were really excited about it. Mostly for the simple act of catching a fish but also because we were proud of our problem-solving skills. So we ran to the bait shack and looked on the wall of all the photos of fish the campers had caught over the years to see how ours measured up. There were all kinds of bass hanging up there but not one with a sunfish. Some were caught by Grandpas and others by Teddy or Nick or Tommy, even a few by Kim and Kelly. Right next to the pictures was a ruler where you could measure your catch. Ours didn't even make it within two inches of the "keeper" line. We were bummed but went back to try again.

And that's when we saw him. The monster bass. It was only a few seconds before the sighting that we realize the bigger the bait, the bigger the catch. So we threw rather large chunks of hotdog into the lake. Hotdogs, if you don't already know this, float. They make an excellent bobber but that's not the point here. It was Him. And he didn't even have to come all the way up to the surface to get the hotdog. He just sat a few inches below the surface of the water and opened his mouth. Like a vacuum the hotdog was sucked into his large mouth and was gone. We couldn't make out his whole body but he looked to like 16 inches long and about ten pounds. We were kids remember?

So, brainstorming again, we found a piece of styrofoam that was larger than any of the chunks of hotdog we had and threw it in the general direction of Him. He sucked it down without any hesitation. Then twisted, turned, let out a good splash and was gone. Fuck! We were astounded. Then suddenly, a bubble came up from where we had seen Him. No sooner did we see the bubble did we see the white of the piece of styrofoam come floating up to the surface. We never saw him again.

It was one of the many great days of discovery during youth. And seeing those tadpoles today made me realize what this world is all about: Growing up, learning about yourself, learning about your environment, and then adapting to it.

Infirmary

Welcome to January folks.

January always seems like a good time for everybody you know to get sick as shit.

I am going to lobby to change the name of the month to Infirmary.

When I come up for air, I'll have some good stories to tell.

Until then, please enjoy these classic poop stories about pooping in public.

Because sometimes life is shit.

You just gotta learn how to wipe...

Change in the Weather

You gotta love the unpredictability of the weather in North Carolina.

You don't like it, just wait a day.

Resolve the Unresolved

Do you have a New Year's Resolution?

I don't have one, because every time I make one, I never adhere to it.

So my resolution is to resolve all those from years past that have gone unresolved.

Some of these would include to exercise more (specifically break out my dusty 24-inch BMX bike), to actually complete some of the creative ideas I have had floating around for years (er, decades) and, most of all, write more.

Tree.

Big tree.

Very big tree.

Here's to planting new roots in the New Year.

2013 is comin' at ya...

Adventure Time

Do you need a vacation?

Try some of these out.

I’m excited to announce that I’m now contributing to Chevy Culture, a
lifestyle and auto site sponsored by Chevrolet. Click through for the full post on Chevy Culture, and come back in the next few weeks and months for more.

Some of my other post from Chevy Culture can be found here, here and here.

Getting to Know the Queen

Or more precisely, the Queen City.




I have lived in North Carolina since 1995 but rarely have spent any time in Charlotte. My collective experience is either stopping by for a bank withdrawal on my way to South Carolina or a random soccer tournament for my son.







Here are some things I have learn about Charlotte:

-the radio sucks
-don't think about trying to turn left or right in Uptown
-people like to tailgate
-it is a city unto itself
-everybody looks the same
-NoDa is a breath of fresh air
-the laundromat doesn't take quarters
-shit is expensive in the city
-driving will require at least one encounter with 485 or 77
-it seems bigger than it really is

Dadfather Advice

As your son grows, there are a million things to teach him.

These five are a good start.

I’m excited to announce that I’m now contributing to Chevy Culture, a
lifestyle and auto site sponsored by Chevrolet. Click through for the full post on Chevy Culture, and come back in the next few weeks and months for more.

Here are some previous posts I wrote for Chevy Culture on my love of trucks and how Chevy can be a muse for the modern music fan.

Did You Know?

My 9-year old is a wealth of knowledge these days.

It's not unusual to hear him proclaim, "Did you know?" and then spit out some random fact to me and his older brother.

This is largely in part due to one of his favorite games that he plays on his iTouch: Fruit Ninja.

The basic premise of the game is to slice fruit with your blade.

But there is one element of the game that warms my heart - it is educational. At the end of various levels, a little box of info will appear with facts about fruit.

For instance, did you now that you can use the inside of a banana peel to soothe a mosquito bite? Or to polish a leather shoe?

Fascinating isn't it?

Even more fascinating was the little nugget of information he dished out the other day.

"Dad," he said.

"Did you know that the space from your wrist to elbow is the size of your foot?"

"Um no," I said looking at my forearm and then at my foot.

I wasn't feeling it. I had my doubts... and then Shazaam!

As you can see, it is a little difficult to take a photo of this phenomenon.

Keep On Truckin'

I sing the praises of living life with a pick-up truck over at Chevy Culture.

Did you know?

I’m excited to announce that I’m now contributing to Chevy Culture, a
lifestyle and auto site sponsored by Chevrolet. Click through for the
full post on Chevy Culture, and come back in the next few weeks and
months for more.

My previous post over at Chevy Culture, about the Anatomy of the Modern Music Fan, can be found here.

Get out of the house, get in your car and get into life.

Oops! I Did It Again

I did something last week that I hadn't done in quite some time.

I bought a book.

Brand new.

I buy a lot of books but usually they are from thrift stores and library book sales.

I'm not sure what compelled me to do it.

I originally went into the book store to get coffee. Soon after consuming some joe, I decided to browse the periodicals. I wanted to see who was still printing magazines and if any of these magazines might provide an outlet for some freelance writing ideas.

Nothing inspires me more than reading some of my favorite authors. So I began to browse the fiction aisle for new works from some of them (to get inspired). In the letter H section, I came across Jim Harrison, one of my all-time favorites and a constant go-to writer of mine over the years.

I spotted what appeared to be his newest book and picked it up.

I got home, cracked it open and read two pages before I realized I had read this book already. A scan of the bookshelf and I realized I had the hard back version of this paperback book The English Major.

So I bought the same book twice.

This phenomenon has happened to me many times with records, but this was the first time it was with a book. Actually, I've passed on buying books I was convinced I had only to find out I didn't possess them.

When I returned the book the next day, I told the clerk I felt silly buying a book I had already read. "Don't worry," he said. "It happens all the time."

"Really?" I said.

"Yeah, like two or three times a week," he said.

I don't feel so bad now...

Train Keeps A-Rollin'

I was never much into trains. Not as a kid. But my older brother had a nice set of Lionel HO scale trains when I was in elementary school.

I do fondly recall enjoying the smell of electricity.

It was a seasonal thing. He'd erect his set in the basement sometime after Thanksgiving and it would stay up through the New Year. Over time it became quite elaborate - tracks were permanently adhere to sheets of plywood - and then the wood track was then placed on saw horses.



As the youngest, it usually was my job to crawl under the set-up and plug the necessary cords into the wall.

I'm not really sure what ever happened to them. My guess is that my mom unloaded them onto him in one of her classic purge-shit-from-the-basement moments.

We my boys came along, there was a brief flirtation with He Who Cannot Be Named, but thankfully that was short lived.

I do, on the other hand, find trains to be incredibly photogenic...

And Now For Something Completely Different

As is with all bad jokes, it is best just to beat them into the ground.

Persistence is key.

Funny is subjective after all.

Prepare yourself for the future kids!

And yes, the title is a Monty Python reference.

A Delicate Balance

I titled my manuscript A Delicate Balance.

In was in reference to that one moment in life where everything comes together at once. Inspired by the urban legend of being able to stand an egg on its end during the equinox, I looked at that as a metaphor for whatever it was someone sought out to do.

Some want to ride a monster wave, some want to jump offstage into a crowd like Eddie Vedder as thousands of people sing-along to your song, some want to wear the maillot jaune in the Tour De France, and some just want to get married and have kids.

If the stars are aligned, if the universe wills it, then it will happen. You just need to be able to place yourself there - that is the story of A Delicate Balance. A story of the journey to find yourself in that place, in the moment, when everything is happening as it should; as you have always dreamed it.