"Fight on STATE!"

John and our friend Ben made it out to South Bend, IN for the season opener of Penn State vs. Notre Dame. Though the game was somewhat lopsided (41-17), I hear the tailgate was awesome.

If Ben looks familiar, it's probably because you've caught his USA Today travel blog: "Today in the Sky" where he looks more like this:



Click here to read Ben's latest air news. Today it seems supermodel Naomi Campbell can even be hell in the air:

Today in the Sky

"Check MY bag!!?? "Bitch, where's my cell phone so I can knock you out!

"Then and Now"

I have to admit that I am going to miss the view at our loft (pictured left), but I'm pretty excited about our new place in the North Halsted part of Lakeview (pictured below.)

I promised some photos as they became available. We will be moving in next weekend so I'll get some great shots of the interior.

To all of our friends who welcome an additional place to lodge just steps from "Roscoe's" and "Sidetrack", winter is fast approaching so get in your reservation.*

*No visits the days of November 3-7, 2006. John, Matt, Oliver, Erin, Emily, Janet, Ron and Ben are headed to Las Vegas.

"As Close to Heaven as it gets..."

Once again it’s that time of the year. Growing up in southern Louisiana, I never experienced a real Fall. Here in Chicago, the temperatures are getting cooler and the evening sky is beginning to get that look. I know the leaves change color here in the Midwest, but nothing can compare to Fall in New England.

I was very fortunate to have a certain gentleman in my life for 10 years. He grew up on a dairy farm in St. Johnsbury, Vermont which is located in the state’s “Northeast Kingdom.” If it’s anything Maple, it can be found in St. J.

During my first visit to the farm, I learned very quickly that taking pictures of trees quickly labeled you as a “flatlander or leaf peeper.” Of course, this hick from Louisiana never saw trees turn color. Let’s face it, come Fall in Louisiana, leaves or either green or dead. Though born and raised in Vermont, my friend still had an appreciation for the sight and spread of beautiful color Fall would bring to his home state.

My friend’s father was a kind man. Wendall was not one for many words but he certainly made me feel welcome during my many visits, as welcome as a son. You could always bet that the grill was prepared and vegetables from his garden a part of the evening meal. Milk was the beverage of choice and not any of that skim or low-fat stuff. When the dairy farm was in full swing, fresh milk was always in the refrigerator. I also amassed a good appetite for Wendall’s “pop-overs.” The best dinner roll does not even compare.

It’s at this time of the year I miss Vermont with it's white – steepled churches and beautifully carpeted landscape of reds, oranges, yellows and greens. I miss warm apple cider donuts from Cold Hollow Mill, my favorite trees in Woodstock and Norwich and the calves nipping at my fingers in the calf barn. I miss old covered bridges over creek-rivers (didn’t think I’d forget that one) and country roads lined with all that amazing color.

Shortly after my father passed away from lung cancer in September 2004 (I cared for him in the months prior to his passing) I decided to go back to the place I knew would bring me some peace. I flew to Vermont and decided to take a driving trip to all the places I recalled.

One of those days was spent with Wendall up in St. Johnsbury. He prepared lunch (he was anxious for me try his French Onion soup) and dinner, everything as delicious as I remembered. We spent most of the day talking and suddenly I realized the man of few words had a lot to say.

When it was time to leave, he asked if I could spend the night, but I had a long drive back to Burlington and an early flight in the morning. As he walked me to my car, I could see from the drive way, in his garage, a small, green John Deere child’s tractor. It belonged to his only son, who was my friend. “You still have it.” I remarked. “Yup” was his only reply. As I hugged him goodbye, I whispered: “I miss him.” His expression said what words could not. That would be last time I would see Wendall. He passed away two weeks after my visit, almost a month after I lost my Dad.

Last week, author Mitch Albom ("Tuesdays with Morrie") wrote an article for the Parade supplement found in most Sunday newspapers. The piece focuses on the premise that if you could have one day with someone that is no longer in your life, what would you do? For me, it would be to see my friend again and figure out why something so right ended up going so wrong? I want him to see who I am now, how I've grown, that I am so much more than the shell of someone he knew a few years ago. I want him to know I'm happy again. How proud that I was able to turn it all around.

When you spend a long period of time with someone, there are moments, memories shared that only the two of you will ever know and understand. No one else can have that. Over time, you even know each other's thoughts, the good and the bad. It's time to stop being afraid, to take a chance and have faith that reaching out is not a bad thing. There is no fate worse than one filled with regret.

During my first visit to Vermont, I remember standing on "Carpenter's Hill" viewing the landscape, and describing it to my friend as close to heaven as it gets. From every sight, smell and sound, down to the taste of a warm apple cider, there are the things I’ll never forget. Most importantly, maybe one day the two of us will meet on an intersecting, "sleepy, country road" that will finally bring understanding and an end to this awful silence.

Abuse and it's price.....

Carpenter: A poster girl for sadness

I remember watching an awful 1989 biopic about pop singer Karen Carpenter. For whatever reason, Karen continues to have a very large gay following. Maybe it’s the singer’s near perfect alto voice suited for sad songs, in which many find comfort. Even a 2000 film, "The Broken Hearts Club", mentions that an appreciation for the singer is an "OGT" (obviously gay trait.) Anyway, there is a scene in ”The Karen Carpenter Story” centered around a Thanksgiving dinner after Karen’s treatment in a New York facility for anorexia nervosa (complications from years of battling the eating disorder would take the singer's life in 1983.) As dinner is being served, her family stares at the singer waiting to see if she’ll “dig in.” I know that feeling.

Most of our friends like sporting events, so we either end up in the stands or in some bar watching the games. I experienced my first Chicago Bears game at Soldier Field this past Sunday. I always think of my father when I’m a Cub’s game and the Bears game was no exception. I always say to myself: "Dad, I can't believe I'm here." Living good, meaning making the right choices, has brought me so much in return. It was a beautiful day and the Bears beat the Detroit Lions pretty handily. No Super Bowl talk now.

I’m often asked “How do you handle everyone drinking beer while you drink Diet Coke or water.” I have to admit, the most uncomfortable part of all of this is the fact that everyone knows why I no longer drink alcohol. There is a certain shame in having abused something to the point that everyone knows it can no longer be a part of your life. In all fairness, there is also a great deal of respect.

Experiences are not enhanced by what you consume. I enjoy every game, dinner party or group outing with John and my friends without alcohol. There is no temptation or feeling of deprivation. At a recent celebration for John’s and my birthday, I was given a glass of champagne. One sip and it was divvied up among friends.

Karen Carpenter sang it best: ”It took a while for me to learn that nothing comes for free. The price I’ve paid is high enough for me.”

"We all make choices. What's yours?"

Braff waiting for forgiveness in "The Last Kiss"





It seems lately that Thursday night has become “movie night” for me and my partner John. John is really good at getting us into advanced screenings of upcoming films. Last night we previewed ”The Last Kiss”, the ensemble cast includes Zach Braff, Blythe Danner and Casey Affleck to mention a few. The screenplay is by Paul Haggis (”Million Dollar Baby”, “Crash.”) The film’s tagline is ”We all make choices. What’s yours?”

The story gets to the heart of relationships: the good, the bad and really bad. Braff’s character, Michael, is in love with Jenna, the “perfect girl.” She soon becomes pregnant and Michael suddenly has this sinking feeling that everything is final and that there are “no surprises left in his life.” He feels that the pregnancy is no cause for marriage to which Jenna reluctantly agrees. Michael soon embarks on a very brief affair with a young college woman he meets of all places: a wedding. Jenna finds out about Michael’s fling in a classic case of: “Oh what a tangled web we weave….” plotline. Jenna is beside herself and cannot forgive Michael, or can she?

The ensemble cast provides many subplots, none of which are rosy. Jenna’s mother, Anna (brilliantly played by Blythe Danner) decides to leave her husband after 30 years of marriage because he is distant and unemotional. She declares: "You never listen. You just shut down." I cried during most of the film. The honesty and desperation are well portrayed by a cast of character’s fighting to make the right choice. In the end the reality is harsh: sometimes life is ugly and we don't treat each other very well.

“We all make choices. What’s yours?” is the perfect tagline for ”The Last Kiss.” I’ve been to that very painful place in my life where I felt my hand was forced so others could move on. While watching this film, I couldn’t help but think: “Why do we do the things we do to one another?”

In "The Last Kiss", a character's father dies of lung cancer, a disease that took the life of my Dad. In a recent trip to New Orleans, I was told that: "I blame all the events following my father's death on my family." I was hurt by this comment but knew better than to dwell on the issue considering the person who said it. After all, we all have blame to share and none of it seems to matter anymore. Why is it so important to bear a needless grudge?

Choices? I’ve made many and have done more of my share of second guessing, but none of that changes the scars that remain. So many times it seemed I could never find the right words to say: "Please talk to me, because something's wrong and we are not going to survive this." If you love someone, I mean really love someone, you'll do anything to save it (like waiting for days and nights on a porch for forgiveness as does Braff's character pictured above.) I still hurt and I still cry but I have forgiven and I hope others have done the same. I just wish maybe someone else could have made a few of those “choices.” In the words of the "Dixie Chicks":

Forgive sounds good,
Forget, I wish that I could.
They say time heals everything,
But I'm still waiting.

Closure and that "hole in the ground"

For many, the day of September 11th will be marred forever by the horrific and almost surreal events that unfolded that day in 2001. Five years later, many struggle to define how the attacks affected them personally or to find closure. It’s been stated that it takes five years to overcome a great loss, be it a death, a separation or an event that jolted your reality so much that it forced you to reexamine your life.

Although not the most articulate man, New Orleans Mayor, Ray Nagin, compared his frustration with recovery from a devastating blow from a hurricane to the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center in New York City: ”It’s been five years and you guys still can’t fix a hole in the ground.” Many were outraged at Nagin’s insensitive remark about the footprints of the WTC, now considered “scared ground.” But was Nagin really wrong? What do you do with a hole that cannot be filled?

Five years later, the most powerful country in the world cannot come to grips to build a memorial or come up with any cohesive plan for developing “ground zero.” Five years later we are still holding ceremonies at the WTC site to reflect and mourn reading the names of those lost in the attacks. When do we stop mourning and begin to heal? What do you do with a hole that cannot be filled?

For many who lost loved ones at the World Trade Center, “the hole” is the last place their mother, father, sister, husband, wife, partner existed in this world and so they go to grieve. It’s like driving on an interstate or highway and you see a small cross and flowers where someone perished in a car accident. How do you define a place that has brought so much pain? What do you do with a hole that cannot be filled?

Is it possible that closure comes from accountability and justice? After the attacks on 9/11, our nation came together and backed our President as the hunt for Osama bin Laden began in the mountains of Afghanistan. The enemy was clear and the mission obvious, yet five years later bin Laden has eluded capture. And in a “scratch your head” strategy, the Bush administration decided that Iraq and Suddam Hussein were linked with bin Laden and took a preemptive strike bringing us to war with the country.

A country once united after the worst attacks on U.S. soil is now clearly moving away from the President’s “wrong turn” strategy in the war against terror. It is clear that we must secure our borders and turn our attention back to bin Laden and the Taliban. The war in Iraq is an immense blunder that has created useless instability in the region. For George W. Bush, this folly will be his legacy. He will remain defiant knowing that a withdrawal means an explanation to the loved ones who have lost so many that he failed.

The perpetrators of the attacks on 9/11 are still at large. Maybe that's why “the hole” cannot be filled.