Long Live.

It’s been a year or more now of Taylor mania. I’ve been a fan of Ms. Swift for a long time. I find her lyrics meaningful and her melodies fun and energetic. I didn’t need Travis Kelce to convince me of her talent. I’ve been a Swiftie long before Chief’s Kingdom caught the buzz.

My favorite TS song has deep meaning for me. Today it’s been eight years since Ellen’s death…

Long Live.

I said remember this moment
In the back of my mind
The time we stood with our shaking hands
The crowds in stands went wild
We were the kings and the queens
And they read off our names
The night you danced like you knew our lives
Would never be the same
You held your head like a hero
On a history book page
It was the end of a decade
But the start of an age

Long live the walls we crashed through
How the kingdom lights shined just for me and you
I was screaming, "Long live all the magic we made"
And bring on all the pretenders
One day we will be remembered

I said remember this feeling
I passed the pictures around
Of all the years that we stood there on the sidelines
Wishing for right now
We are the kings and the queens
You traded your baseball cap for a crown
When they gave us our trophies
And we held them up for our town
And the cynics were outraged
Screaming, "This is absurd"
'Cause for a moment, a band of thieves
In ripped up jeans got to rule the world

Long live the walls we crashed through
How the kingdom lights shined just for me and you
I was screaming, "Long live all the magic we made"
And bring on all the pretenders, I'm not afraid
Long live all the mountains we moved
I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you
I was screaming, "Long live the look on your face"
And bring on all the pretenders
One day we will be remembered

Hold on to spinning around
Confetti falls to the ground
May these memories break our fall

Will you take a moment?
Promise me this
That you'll stand by me forever
But if, God forbid, fate should step in
And force us into a goodbye
If you have children someday
When they point to the pictures
Please tell them my name
Tell them how the crowds went wild
Tell them how I hope they shine

Long live the walls we crashed through
I had the time of my life with you
Long, long live the walls we crashed through
How the kingdom lights shined just for me and you
And I was screaming, "Long live all the magic we made"
And bring on all the pretenders, I'm not afraid
Singing long live all the mountains we moved
I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you
And long, long live the look on your face
And bring on all the pretenders
One day, we will be remembered…

Thank you Taylor.

The Space Between

Presently my day starts when the alarm on my phone goes off at 5:30am. After one hit (okay maybe two) on the old snooze button, I’m up and off to work out. Covid and the cold Pittsburgh winter have me exclusively indoors. By 6:15 I’m joined by my fiance, Audrey. She churns out a well paced cardio session on the Max trainer while I get the blood pumping on the treadmill. Afterwards we throw some free weights around. Resistance training is more fun when you have a partner that checks your form and lets you know if you’re slacking. Audrey and I are good like that. The hour and a half we spend together in the basement is my favorite part of the day.

That basement is in Lawrenceville, a neighborhood of Pittsburgh that is sought out by millennials and lined with cheeky boutique shops and mostly upscale restaurants. In my life, I never envisioned a future that included living in Lawrenceville. But this is my present.

After our workout I shower and get ready for work. Scooping up lunch and a tea for the road I get in the car and drive 40 minutes, directly into my past. I still work less than three blocks from the home I shared with my wife Ellen and our children, Aly and Mason. I love my work, and I love my hometown of Vandergrift. Growing up there was idyllic. Raising a family there was a joy. We had it all. Then cancer came knocking, and the story goes south from there. Ellen passed away in our home on Hancock Ave. Now Aly lives there with our dogs, Willow and Nero, while I drive towards it and then away from it every day. Symbolic, isn’t it. 

The mornings aren’t so bad. Fresh from a sweaty workout with my best friend and fiance, I can be assured that life is so very good again. My emotions are mostly manageable on my way to Vandergrift, but the drive back to Lawrenceville is tough some days. The voices in my head call me terrible things. Traitor, deserter, fraud… I have to choose to ignore them. Ellen would approve of my life. She begged me, pleading that I not stay alone. But this is the lot of a widower. The hardest part about being okay is BEING OKAY.

Music can and will occasionally betray me so I fill the drive with podcasts, mostly. Pat McAfee seems like a friend. Dan Harris and his cadre of meditation and mindfulness experts make me 10% Happier. Dr. Michael Gervais is my teacher. Brene Brown is my advisor. The McElroy Brothers, Tony Diggs, Boston Connor, Nick, Zeets, Gumpy, Evan Fox, Ty Schmitt, Billy Buttchecks, Mitt, and Michael are my Comic relief. Vaguely Scientific satisfies my nerd side, and bonus, Aly is a frequent guest. 

The future looks amazing. The past, wonderful. And even though the space between can be difficult, replacing the voices in my head with education, validation, and pure silliness is a gift.

Maybe that’s why they call it the present.

Parent of an Athlete

Keeping sane during a pandemic isn’t easy. All this stillness. I am a doer. You can ask Audrey. We love to get out and hike, bike, and kayak. I miss my hockey and volleyball friends. Team sports light a fire in me that I’ve been without for going on five weeks now. I am hoping that soon, when it’s safe, we’ll be back at it. For now, we want nothing more than to stay healthy. We hope and pray that when this is over we can emerge from this quarantine and be back together with our families and friends.

I miss them all so much.

We have been connecting with the world like everyone else. Watching your lives on different social media platforms is both comforting and frankly a little off putting. I was under the impression that a global pandemic would unite us, much like I’ve seen in movies like “Independence Day” and “Armageddon”. It hasn’t been like that at all. It’s too bad. Will Smith and Bruce Willis we are not.

The thing I wanted to express today though is more positive than that. Many parents I know are posting Parents of an Athlete photos with stories of their children’s successes. My kids didn’t play sports beyond high school, but that doesn’t mean they weren’t somehow shaped by them, and that those experiences didn’t in turn shape me.

Yearly trips to the OBX were a highlight for our family.

I’ll start with my Aly. Poor kid was in more gymnasiums than she would care to recount. She literally spent her years between 5-10 playing with dinosaurs and coloring pictures with the JV volleyball team from Leechburg, every Tuesday and Thursday night. At 10 we signed her up for YMCA volleyball, and she had the skills you’d expect a 10 year old to have, but she had seen enough matches to have an advantage over most of the other kids. At 13 she tried out for the Junior High team at Kiski and was cut. As parents we wanted to be angry at the coach, but as coaches Ellen and I knew we had to tread carefully. 

Aly didn’t believe in herself and being cut from the sport her mom coached was confirming this. As a remedy, without questioning the coach, we ask that she be made manager, and that when possible, she could work on her skills. Thankfully the coach agreed. Aly was not fond of this arrangement, but did it anyway. Two weeks later, she was given a uniform, and played in many of the matches. Even though she never played volleyball again, I believe that this experience taught her something, and that her life as an “athlete” wasn’t a waste. Aly has been strong and steadfast since her mother’s death. She has the confidence to pitch complex curriculum ideas to her superiors, and to teach those same ideas to children all across the Pittsburgh region and beyond. Aly will bristle at this, but sports played a role in her early development, and I know she has more athletic equity than she’d care to admit. It made her a resilient person and a caring and kind presenter for the Carnegie Science Centers “Science on the Road” Department. Also, coloring with the JV team at Leechburg helped formulate a love for art that frequently comes in handy and gives her great joy. I’m so proud of my Alyshwally!

Mason stuck with athletics a little longer. Though he played golf in high school, my fondest memories come before that, and after. As an adult Mason and I have played on a few dek hockey teams together. I’ve scored my share of goals in my career, but none of them compare with winning a face-off back to Mas, and having him bury a slapshot from his spot behind me. I taught him that shot, and he has a cannon. The student has become the teacher, I fear. 

Like most kids, Mason just wanted to play. He would do whatever you were doing…

Mason loved hockey, but as the game got more physical, Ellen and I taught him about golf. Not as many concussions in golf.

He ran the last mile of the marathon with me into Heinz Field, he tailed me to hockey games and took shots between periods. He played pepper before and after matches at Leechburg. By the time he was 11 he was really good at baseball. He listened well to instruction and absorbed what coaches would tell him. At 11 he was a contact hitter, and a fast runner, so he ended up leading off. He had a good season, and was selected to the all-star team. It seemed like baseball would be his sport. 

Now most of the people who have been sharing the “Parents of an Athlete” posts have accompanying pictures. I do too, but this one is in my head, and I will never forget it. I don’t know a lot about the intricacies of baseball, but manager Tom Johnson, a man I look up to both literally and figuratively, had me coaching third base, in perfect position to get this shot of a lifetime.

It was Mason’s first game of his 12 year old season, and even though he had a growth spurt that made him bigger and stronger, he was still a very fast runner.(I have no idea where that came from. Credit Mangus DNA.) The line-up card had him batting first, and starting in centerfield. Centerfield in Vandergrift had an oddity. The flagpole was positioned INSIDE the fence, dead center. To accommodate balls that might strike the pole, league officials had painted a line, about ten feet off the ground. A ball striking the pole above the line would be deemed a home run, based on the distance from the flagpole to the fence. I’ve played in that park my whole life, coached there for a few years. Never had the line been needed, yet there it was, freshly painted, waiting for it’s chance.

There was a nervous energy at the ballyard that day. 24 kids and 10 coaches wondering if the things they had been practicing in that early spring would lead them to victory. Mason was extremely nervous as he stepped to the plate. First batter of a new season is a heavy load for a twelve year old. 

I’m not sure what the count was, but from my spot at third I had a feeling this ball had a chance right off of Mason’s bat. As trained, he wasted no time getting on his horse. He was halfway up the first base line when my gaze left him to find the ball.  Arching high into the sky in centerfield, it reached its apex and descended as the center fielder started his chase. He quickly broke off the pursuit, and looked upward at the flagpole.

Goooooonnnnngggggg. The ball struck the flagpole a good 8-10 feet above the painted line. The noise it made still rings in my ears. The kind of sound that signals something important had happened. My gaze then went to the umpire at second base. Hand in the air, finger upraised, twirling in a circle. Home Run! I then found my son Mason, rounding second, hands down at his side, palms upward, in a gesture of disbelief. The look on his face was of pure joy, the happiest I had ever seen him. His grin seemed to leave his face on either side. Click. That’s the picture I get to see in my head. It makes me so happy, that I cry to this day just thinking about it. I’m weeping now as I type. 

The picture that is missing, is the one he got, of me looking at him. I wonder what that was like on the other side of this story, or if he took the time to notice. I can’t say I’d blame him if he didn’t. I never hit a home run. He did on his first at bat. He hit many others after that. Mason had a pure swing, kind of like a young Ken Griffey Jr. Some of them were fairly impressive, but none like the one off the flagpole in centerfield, early spring, 2006.

I guess maybe the message is this. When this is over, we can be better. Right now, the ball field is locked, the soccer pitch empty, the rink dark, and court barren. When they leap back to life let’s try to get the most joy out of what our kids accomplish on that fresh cut grass, polished wooden floor or bright white ice. Let the coaches coach, let the players play and let our children see in our eyes the joy that brings us. Whether they drive one out of the park or go 0-4, let's be there to love and support them. 

Can’t wait to get back out there….

Make no mistake, there will be changes when we come out of isolation. Sports and activity will lead the way back. As athletes, coaches, and parents let's make the most of this break and come back renewed. 

Watch out, Murrysville Sportszone goalies. The first goal will be so glorious. The celly, epic.

This is not the Time to Spike the Ball

The news looks promising this morning. Models have been updated downward for the most part, depending on where you are in the country, the news “looks” better. This, however, doesn’t mean it is time for a celebratory dance. It is proof that social distancing is working. We must continue or risk the chance of second wave or upturn in the curve. Nobody wants that.

Whether you are a believer or a denier in the process, it really doesn’t matter. What does matter is that this is what we have. We are successfully staying apart. We are finding new ways of being, existing, communicating, exercising, thriving. We are called to care for each other in new ways everyday, and we are responding to that challenge. I’m still frightened for sure, but I feel my heart loving and missing my family, my friends, and my activities, yeah, even my work. While on the surface it sucks, down deep, the mindful part of me is expanding. Taking all of this for granted was a sin. I now repent from that way of life.

If we are all lucky enough to see the other side of this pandemic we will be called on to be something more. We will morn for those souls who were not as fortunate, but then we will rise from the ashes, renewed. This isolation is the cocoon. We are butterflies.

Butterflies don’t exit the cocoon until they are fully formed. Spring leads to summer. This summer, butterflies will rule the day. Stay safe, stay home. Feel the sorrow of loss and longing. Name it, so when it arises it is recognizable. That is the mindful test we must pass to exit the cocoon.

So while today’s news is better, it’s not time to spike the ball. Patience friends. Spring indeed leads to Summer. The Summer of the Butterfly.

Also, submitting this idea I had for makeshift masks from last week. Important footnote. Long sleeve shirts may work even better. Hoodies even better than that. Also, work those biceps. There is gonna be a lit Gun Show if we all follow this plan. Butterflies and Gun Shows… Not natural partners, but hey, natural is a changing…

Stay well everyone,

Love yinz,

Tim

Be better, media, we need you!

How’s that social distancing working out?

It’s time for the Coronavirus Task Force daily press briefing. It starts with a parade of carefully selected experts that march into the room barely two feet apart, despite CDC guidelines that clearly ask ALL AMERICANS for a six foot buffer. The President then reads from a script, carefully prepared for him. What should take five minutes to read is stretched to twenty, as the president cannot contain himself when there aren’t enough awesome, huge, tremendous, wonderful, amazing, incredible, record breaking, words included. Then at least 80% of the experts stroll to the same microphone and extol the president’s virtues and his decision making prowess. The other 20% is where truth comes from, and they are often negated later in the briefing by the president himself. Maybe it’s his way of keeping us less frightened and more positive, but I’m giving him too much credit there. More likely it’s about poll numbers in an election year. Yeah, that sounds about right…

Is the president failing us? Probably. Is this really the time to dwell on it? I say no, and that won’t be a popular opinion among my liberal brethren. Oh well, we have to save lives right now. History will do the rest. That is where I see the media making a titanic mistake, but it's not too late to course correct it.

Trump often fires back at what he sees as unfair questions, so why ask him at all?

When it comes to the media grilling the task force the focus should be on getting the information Americans need to survive. Right now most of the respected journalists in the room seem interested in poking the president and manufacturing clickbait. Before the pandemic this was a fun pastime. Right now, it serves very little purpose. These are serious times. Let’s get down to business.

We need to save lives. 

Should we hold feet to the fire, of course. 

Ask the president about decisions he has made, plans for the future, and “opinions” and make sure the public knows that’s what they are… The opinion of a non-medical, science denying, ill equipped president. Please ask the experts the questions of importance, like efficacy of drugs, spread of disease, models,(please don’t ask him about models, ever again) and economic impact. If the president cuts off an expert again in these briefings, please insist on the expert's analysis. If the president sidesteps the question, the next questioner should insist he allow the expert to speak. If he refuses, stay on him. We need FACTS not his OPINION. We need information, not clickbait. The best way to save more of us is to not engage the president at all. History is waiting to do that job. 

Dr. Fauci is been the lone voice of reason, and will be remembered for his frank analysis of medical science and real data. His words save lives. Talk to him.

I don’t like the president, but I hope honestly that history will tell a story about American journalism and how a pandemic brought truth back from the brink of death because we demanded better from everyone. Be better, media, demand better from the Task Force. I hope it’s not too late.

Where There’s a Will

Often times I have been blown away by stories of happenstance and serendipity.  Our story is full of them.  Sometimes these “collisions” aren’t wonderful but are just as important. Some of them are downright heartbreaking.  Unfortunately, that is the kind I need to talk about today.

About two weeks ago I received a message from Mark Jones, the Athletic Director at at Leechburg High School, reminding me that it is awards assembly season.  To me that means presenting the “Ellen Jane-We Serve First Service Award” for the third year to a staff member, community member, or student who has gone above and beyond in their service to the school district, community, or student body.  It is getting easier to do this, and it’s always nice to go back to LHS and reconnect with the people there who meant so much to Ellen.  She taught at Leechburg for almost 20 years and her mark on the district is indelible.

I didn’t think I’d have much to say this year.  Time is washing away the students who remember Ellen.  This year's senior class still contains students Ellen taught for Health and Physical Education classes. Next year, there will be no students with direct ties.

So, I prepared some short comments, was ready to go, and something unrelated happened a few days before the awards night that made it crystal clear what the message to this year's class needed to be.... Heartbreaking happenstance...

Here is that speech.

How many students here had Mrs. Toy as a teacher?

Every year, that number drops, and eventually Ellen will be reduced to a friendly smile and pretty eyes on a plaque in the hallway.  I myself have forgotten what her voice sounds like, but there is so much video out there that when I want a reminder, it’s there for me.  One thing that is still clear, and is really more important, is what she might say.

Now I don’t find myself with a microphone in my hand very often, but today you handed me one, and Mr.Jones said I could do whatever I want.  I have this microphone, and you guys can’t leave until I’m done...

Sorry about your luck.

I won’t take long.  I know it’s spring, and soon you will be out of school, on the streets, at the pool, enjoying the park.  As spring turns to summer, you will enjoy the excitement of new opportunities.  Maybe your first solo drive, maybe a job, maybe a vacation, but not all opportunities are as positive.  That’s what Ellen’s voice begs me to talk to you about, as she can no longer be the inspiration to urge you to care for yourselves, your health, and your life...

Tuesday night I attended a funeral for a young man.  As I stood in the receiving line I watched the horrified faces, old and young alike, grappling with what they could possibly say as they inched closer and closer to the grief stricken parents and brothers.  This young man was a victim of the opioid epidemic that grips our country.  It robbed him of a promising engineering career and a long life, and it stole everything from his family and friends.  Believe me when I tell you they handled the situation with unfathomable grace and dignity, but they shouldn’t have had to at all. It was just a moment when judgment went wrong, when this young man took a wrong turn, when that wrong turn morphed into an addiction that someone who was smart enough to earn a degree in engineering and who was loved by family and friends could not escape.

Will was 25 years old. He graduated from Seneca Valley High School and the University of Pittsburgh with a degree in Civil Engineering. He struggled with this addiction but finally made it through to graduation and moved towards his independence. He had a job, his own apartment, friends, and attended meetings geared to helping him maintain his handle on life. He was loved and liked by all, had a fierce sense of humor, an easy smile, and a talent for music. He helped everyone, including his brother with autism. He was close with his family, understood their overwhelming support for him, loved the life that he fought hard to gain back. Again, one small wrong opportunity taken, one he didn’t think would take it all away, one that was tied to his first wrong turn, would end up being the one to devastate all who knew him. His bright light gone forever.

From his mom: “He was loved beyond measure. For someone like him to have fallen prey to this epidemic is beyond belief to all who knew of his integrity and devotion to family and friends. That’s why I would like his story told in a way that will cause any young person to think twice about what they are experimenting with… Will would appreciate this, as after he tried it once, there was no going back. It is addictive beyond measure and a lifelong imprisonment for those who try it even once. And, lately, with the addition of fentanyl, their first experience may prove deadly.”

So I beg you today to hear Will’s voice and Will’s mom’s voice through me, to hear Ellen’s voice through me, and to remember what I said today.  You have a lifetime of opportunities in front of you. When this one comes knocking, think twice. Don’t answer the door.  Realize that taking this wrong opportunity can and most likely will prevent you from living your life, and will prevent your family and friends from watching you live your dreams.  Be courageous for you and for your family.

Will is any of us. We are all one step away from the wrong decision. Learn from his story. Think twice. Be courageous.  Honor him by finding your joy in living this summer and for the rest of your life.

It is our hope that someone there in the auditorium heard this and took it to heart.  As long as I have a voice I should use it, as long as someone keeps handing me a microphone I will speak.  As long as I have a keyboard and a blog... 

well you get it. 

Have a happy, active, and safe summer everyone! 

Audrey’s Christmas Poem.

My family has a wonderful tradition that requires no big purchases.  We have a “Secret Santa Claus” drawing and then either write a story, a poem or make something appropriate for the person we were given.   

Fortunately, I drew my girlfriend Audrey, and it gave me a great opportunity to tell my family how I feel about her, and how the journey has brought us to this place in time... 

You’ll notice my lack of poetry accumen, and hopefully appreciate the feelings expressed... 

Here goes... 

Audrey... 

The worlds a funny place,

It giveth, it taketh, and it giveth again

This is how this story begins.

An email in an unlikely place,

“Try match.com,

find a new mate.”

In a moment of wonder a profile was formed,

before anyone could intervene,

or anyone could be warned.

I was honest and forthright,

and it frightened most away,

so on to Zoosk I moved my info one fateful day.

It didn’t take long, just a day or two,

a beautiful face showed up,

and it belonged to you.

and for all the first dates in your collection,

for all the men who were possible selections,

somehow we both swiped in the right direction.

I’m going on a date, the thought it seemed insane,

It’s too soon, you’re not ready,

the voices in my head proclaimed.

We met at Hines Ward’s Table 86,

I was nervous as could be,

but the very first smile from you is how you stole my heart from me.

We spent that first night talking and listening,

the stories we told left our eyes glistening.

you had my attention

that much is for sure,

a game was on TV and never once did I ask

"what's the score?"

What happens next,

a second date at Mad Mex,

talking some more and building mutual respect.

The third it was magical because of a hat,

who knew headware was were it was at?

Graylin’s Adventure is what it said,

and you proudly placed it on your head.

Not long after that,

right there at the table,

you kissed me a thank you,

my world went unstable.

Again as we parted we kissed goodnight,

and in a moment again, the world was alright.

From there it’s was a blur of dates and travel

and someone who didn’t mind picking up what had unraveled.

Hiking at McConnells Mill,

New Years eve and Hocking Hills,

Checking out DC’s sites,

Momma G and New York’s lights.

State College with Rox and Jim,

New York’s wine country and the Brickhouse Inn.

Cooper’s Rock for the first time,

hanging with the meetup gang was fine,

they rated me with boo’s and dings,

some of them thought I could sing.

The election came and to our surprise,

a hair piece won the biggest prize.

Washington, Jefferson, Kennedy, Lincoln.

What the heck are people thinking.

Off to DC again to March after the inauguration,

what’s the fate of our Great nation?

Our travel didn’t stop there,

soon we hiked in Colorado’s rare air.

Rocky Mountain National Park was delightful, wild and showy,

and on the last day really, really snowy.

Italy sounded like our next great idea,

so on TripAdvisor I would often see you.

You laid out what was a fantastic trip,

squeezing in activities, sites, gelato and too much wine to sip.

Florence, Tuscany, The Amalfi Coast, Capri and it’s Grotto,

oh and I can’t remember if I mentioned the gelato.

All these places with you I’ve gone,

let me say I think we are far from done.

Back to NYC for a show

you know is the next destination we’d go,

and we had Kate and Aly in tow.

A story about Freedom and a revolutionary fight,

“It’s Quiet Uptown” had us sobbing alright.

You held my hand and understood the emotion on display,

and told me gently and firmly “I’ve got you the rest of the way”

Cupid is like Burr,

he aimed his bow and shot it,

and into my chest the arrow went

and my big heart it caught it.

So far we’ve come, so far we’ve gone,

so many miles, and trips and battles won.

I think I said somewhere before that we are far from done...

This family here,

this Christmas Eve,

it’s time for me to tell them,

my heart belongs to this gal here,

her name is Audrey Graylin.

PS

Before she left she said to me,

don’t be afraid,

don’t be scared,

don’t stay alone,

don’t you dare.

Don’t stay bereft,

it doesn’t pay,

it’s not the place I want you to stay.

Look for the “collateral beauty”

this I see as your next duty.

And then I got this email from Match...

Click.

Play the Next Point.

Play the next point...

I think that I've always been kind of a "present" person.  I've never been one to let disappointment get me down.  Because of that I have been able to fend off sadness in

The death of a child...

The passing of a parent, then a friend, then a teenage athlete I helped coach.

Life has been difficult, but at every turn, I rose above, lead the way, and anchored some who were less fortunate and needed help with this skill set.

I don't want you to think that,

1. This was easy for me (or)
2. I must be a cold hearted fool

Neither are true.  This shit hurts.  Deep.  To the core.  I have been bitter, angry, and sad.  I just don't see how that helps anyone, so I refused to stay there.

Then the unthinkable happened.

My wife Ellen's cancer returned, she was placed on hospice, and died, all in about two months time. 

This was the most severe test of my mindset.  If I continued to be "present", to lead, to anchor, some people might misunderstand.  That doesn't mean it was the wrong thing to do, in fact, it made it more "right", because so many were watching. 

Volleyball has been central in my life for so long.  So many times I watched from the sidelines as Ellen would instruct her athletes.  After a point, whether won or lost, she taught, and then she gave a simple instruction...

"Play the next point!"

Then, while interviewing a few members of the national team for the "Ultimate Trust" special edition of "Five Questions" the mindset came up again...

It totally is the basis of the game, everywhere it is played well.

Learn from each point, no matter the outcome, then...

Play the next point.

And so, here I am.

I have learned the valuable lessons, in triumph and in loss, yes even the most severe loss.  The instruction is still clear, crisp, and poignant...

Be present, be solid, be strong and

Play the next point.

The notion led me to travel to Brazil, alone on my first ever overseas trip, to watch the same National Team play in the Olympics, and more recently to join a whole new group of friends along with my girlfriend Audrey to hike the trails of Rocky Mountain National Park.  There we found stunning beauty at every turn, along every stream and waterfall, over every hill, and once at the very top of Twin Sister's, a panorama like none I have ever seen.  One of our most experience hiker pals Dave termed the hikes "treasure hunts".  Treasure indeed. 

Healing looks like this.  It's a difficult journey to be sure, but it is vastly worthwhile.  So watch.  Learn.  Live.

I can still hear, clearly, the command.

Play the next point.

Special thanks to my friends, Bruce, Rosta, Cathy, Timothy, Dave, and especially Audrey.  You all have shown me a new way of viewing the beauty in the world.  I never doubted it's "presence" I just needed help finding it.  Love you all.  Yinz rock!