Lean On Me

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Lean on me,
when you’re not strong
And I’ll be your friend
I’ll help you carry on…

For,
it won’t be long
‘Til I’m gonna need
Somebody to lean on…

I have heard this Bill Withers song, Lean on Me, hundreds of times in my life… possibly thousands. And not until tonight did these words really sink in thanks to the fine boys and girls at Willink Middle School at Rebekah’s chorus concert.

At the risk of ridicule I will say I actually thought to myself “Oh, really? Those are the lyrics?”

The lyrics are simple and authentic. It’s an amazing song about what it means to be a loyal friend. One that looks out for one another. We all need them, know who they are in our own lives. We appreciate their support when we need it most, and we’re ready to answer the call to return the favor.

I know, call me Captain Obvious.

A Game of Humility

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photo 1Coaching baseball is my highlight of the week. With AJ. Being outside. In the warmth. In the rain. In the cold. It doesn’t matter. Away from the responsibilities of life is a welcome distraction from the weight of everything else. Instructing kids on the nuances of a game riddled with life lessons and humbling moments is a privilege that I’ve been able to maintain for the last 9 years.

Tonight is a night I will never forget. We were playing the Angels. Their head coach, Paul, is a good friend. We both attend the same church. We’ve coached together when our eldest sons (Joey and Dalton) were playing years earlier in the 9-10 league. He is honorable, respectful, and a great head coach. I’ve learned much from him.

We both longed for this game. My Rangers. His Angels. The anticipation for this game was elevated even more when Mother Nature rained out the original date postponing the game to Sunday evening.

As the away team we were up to bat first.

Their pitcher was a strike throwing fastball machine. 3 up. 3 down. They came to bat and scored 5 runs.

The 2nd inning was more of the same. 3 up for the Rangers. 3 down. Another five spot for the Angels.

At the top of the 3rd we were looking at a 0-10 deficit and no indication that anything was going to change. John the other coach and I actually discussed measures of treating the rest of the game as a learning session—if it got more out of hand, and playing kids in positions they wouldn’t normally to try to get them some experience. Not the way I was hoping the most anticipated game of the schedule was going to go down. I was hoping for a battle. Maybe a 6-6 tie going into the final inning. Tension. Nervousness. A last at bat base hit of walk-off single to close out the game. Kids piling on top of kids. No mater who won. In my mind this was to be the game of the year, and instead it was a blowout.

Then something happened. Paul replaced his ace with a pitcher who was not as strong. Our kids got on base, scored runs and we got right back in the game. In fact, at the bottom of the 4th inning the score was 10-10. A far cry from the how the game started. Now, we ended up losing 10-12, but that’s not really the story here. The story is about how the coach of the Angels didn’t pour it on. How he knew his second pitcher was not as strong but he wanted to get him in the game. Understanding the bigger picture that 9-10 year old kids having feelings that are fragile. That every ballplayer should have fun first, then win second. No matter the cost. Even in the moment I knew he was feeling this way about our game. He didn’t have to tell me. I could see it in his face. My kids left the field tonight feeling good that they battled back, not deflated because they got crushed. They didn’t give up, and had a shot to win. After the game Paul and I talked and he confirmed to me what I already suspected, and I was very grateful. Hopefully the next time our two teams meet in June the outcome will be more like he and I hoped for this game. A nail-biter to the end. Unfortunately I will be in Phoenix for work that day, and can’t be there. Unless Mother Nature intervenes again.

Humility is something the game of baseball teaches a person in spades. And they are lessons for players and coaches alike.

I will miss it when AJ grows up and it’s gone.

Mutiny on the Steps of St Paul’s

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PipesSome of you may know that I am in the choir of St Paul’s Catholic Church.

If not well, I am, and I sing bass. I enjoy it quite a lot. I have many fond memories of singing in church. In weddings (my own included) funerals, cantoring and on holiday’s. In fact, my participation in the choir has kept my wavering faith on the level more than I care to admit, but I fear my choir days may be over.

It seems the parish council decided to let Ron our music director go due to budgetary reasons. As of May 31st he will be gone. A shame since the choir adds much to a service, and provides a small sliver of energy to a congregation that seems to dwindle by the Sunday. For those who don’t know Ron, he is über talented. He was the reason the choir was so good. He’s a musical prodigy, has 2 masters degrees in music, and gives liturgical backstory on songs and composers like none other. He pushed us to sing music way outside our comfort zone (Read: in German, Croatian, and in 8 part harmony…). And despite a well fought effort to get things reconsidered by many meetings and email threads by the choir members against parish council, (Which would make the ending of Dead Poet’s Society weak in the knees.) the end result stays the same. Ron is out.

The congregation suffers. The choir is in turmoil and many members are leaving out of frustration as to how the news was “handled”. Some leaving the parish all together.

A small representation for the Catholic church as a whole.

Not sure where I stand yet, but with an already wavering faith it’s not looking good.

The Ties That Bind.

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Ties that BindMy son Joseph Paul is wise beyond his years.

Sensing my frustration Saturday morning he asked why. I told him being in Michigan, away from our home, our life, our dog Max takes it’s toll. Compound that with Rebekah’s dress she brought being way too small, forgetting black socks or not bringing the right dress shirt, or shoes and not being able to just go in our closets and switch them may sound trivial but that too takes its toll. All this slows us down and we were in serious danger of being late for the one event we came to Michigan for. Add the fact that we are here in on Mother’s Day weekend was a blessing but sitting in a car for 6 hours as we drive back to New York on Sunday is hardly the great day his Mother deserves.

Joey looked and me and said, “I understand, that’s hard. Is there as anything I could do help ease your stress?”

Um, what? My son, asking me if he could help my emotional state? Aren’t I the father and he the son? Like I said, my son is wise beyond his years. Joey has the gift of understanding, observation and logical thought. He is smart, compassionate and a true old soul. It’s an honor to be his Father.

“Just be respectful to your siblings and family while we are here. Listen to your Mother, and would you like to wear this blue tie to Annie’s First Communion?”

Joey responded, “Would it ease some of your stress?”

“Yes it would, Joey.”

“Okay I will. Show me how to tie it.”

So we sat on the spare bed in the upstairs of my Mother-In-Law’s home and I showed him, just like my Father showed me. It was a blessed moment, and not because he wore a tie, but because he reminded me that sometimes to make it through the day we may need someone to support us.

No matter the age.

The Flower City Half

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photo 4-1I ran the Flower City Half Marathon this morning. My official chip time was 2:13:35. It was pefect weather and a great first step into running a half marathon.

This is something I never thought I’d do. Ever. Not in a million lifetimes. Let me restate that:

Not in a million lifetimes.

But it happened and I can say I was dead wrong on how much fun it could be. During these 13.1 miles I spent a lot of time with my friends and family. They didn’t know, but they were with me for the 13.1 miles. My pal, Mike who pushed me to register and was by my side the whole way. Julie, Courtney, Charlie, or other runners like Lisa, Daniel, Adell, Dom, Kim, Matt, Jennifer, Glen, and Kevin came in and out of my steam of thought when songs I relate to them came through the speaks. For a short time we ran side by side. I imagined the conversations we’d have if we were running together, or the moments in life that we shared. It helped the miles go by. In some cases we had serious life discussions, others we joked. But in all, it was only in my head, and not real. A harsh reality inside the world I live in, and just how alone at times I feel.

13.1 miles of soul searching.

13.1 miles of trying to remember who I am.

13.1 miles of clarity.

13.1 miles of realizing I have done some stupid shit lately.

13.1 miles of realizing I have done some incredible things lately.

13.1 miles of wishing I could un-hear words spoken by friends and family.

13.1 miles of connecting the dots of life.

13.1 miles of coming to terms with knowing I will forever miss people I will never see everyday.

13.1 miles of fresh air.

13.1 miles of seeing what a beautiful city Rochester is.

13.1 of trying to reconcile my heart.

13.1 miles of penance manifested in blisters and sore feet.

13.1 miles of letting go when it all seems so impossible. Kinda like running the half marathon in the first place.

After all that. When’s the next one?

One State, Two State, Red State, Blue State.

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CapitolLast week I did something I never thought I’d do:

I lobbyied on Captiol Hill.

Um… what? Lobbyied? (Again, I swear I don’t know who I am anymore)

Scratch that off the “No Way I’d Ever Think To Do That Bucket List”

Yep, I lobbied for issues pertaining to my profession in advertising. While I was there soaking in the experience, I have come to realize why I think our country is so divided. Within our own government lines of communication are ruined. Gone are the days where a Republican and Democrat can enjoy a steak at a restaurant and hash out a deal face to face. If that happened now, within seconds it would spread through the internet in pictures and tweets, get misconstrued and then ultimately find its way on a Times Square ticker. All in about 43 seconds. So nobody on Capitol Hill talks anymore. Instead politicians talk more to cameras than to each other.

Also where the public gets information has changed. Before the internet, printed newspapers were supposed to stay neutral. The code was if you reported a story from a particular point of view you always offered the other side as to not be bias. Thus giving the whole story. Not saying it was perfect system but that was the idea. Well now, hello internet and goodbye fair play.

Republicans get their information from the Drudge report, Rush Limbaugh or Fox News, Democrats get their news from The Huffington Post, and MSNBC, or Thom Hartmann. The Millennials get their news from programs like the Daily Show, The Onion and The Colbert Report. I know this is a generalized statement but my point is most of us seek out news from sources that agree with our own political point of view. So we get validation of our opinions which is really diverging roads that are based in skewed realities of the truth. Neither side is right. They just want to preach to the choir. The same story reported on the Drudge report could be completely different on the Huffington Post. Same story, with two explanations. Republicans and Democrats feel they come out on top, thus continuing the divergence of the roads of the red and blue states. Nothing good comes out of only hearing your side and being close minded to another point of view. Nothing good ever comes of a relationship where neither side talks. And when politicians can’t even agree on the problem based on different views on reality, how could things get better? I have hope that things can, and while I don’t have any solutions as to how, I do have hope. That politically smarter people than I with some compassion, common sense, and some ability to listen will get together for a steak. Hash things out, agree, while posting their desert choice on Instagram.

DC RunI also did something else in Washington D.C. that I thought I’d never do: I ran around the U.S. Capitol building and surrounding area. For the record, jogging in our nation’s capitol is way more fun than lobbying.

(Again, I swear I don’t know who I am anymore, and maybe that’s the point.)

The Moral of Mystic River

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“Just admit what you did. Come on, it will be alright… just admit what you did.”

Jimmy Markum (Sean Penn) speaks these words as he waits for the justification he needs before killing Dave Boyle (Tim Robbins) in the 2003 movie Mystic River. Dave is bullied into giving Jimmy the closure he needs to deal with the death of his own teenage daughter. If you have not seen the movie read no further: Spoiler Alert! Dave dies, and shocker… he didn’t do it, and his reward for fessing up to crime he didn’t commit is his body gets dumped in the Mystic River.

In this case it’s not about getting to the truth. It’s about the need to be right at that moment so that feelings can be placed at ease. In most disputes the truth is muddled by our own interpretation of events, our own insecurities, or logical point of view. But what can’t be disputed are facts. In Mystic River, Dave was dealing in fact. Jimmy was dealing in emotion. Dave didn’t kill Jimmy’s daughter, and Jimmy finds out too late and since he was hunger for closure he acted in haste.

I hope my children understand this very key point so that when they are on the playground, or as adults they can always deal in fact. I don’t want their own interpretation altering the truth just to justify their position. Nor do I want them to wrongfully own up to something they didn’t do just because of pressure by another. Remember, facts can’t be disputed. Any good lawyer knows this.

The moral? Stand up for yourself and deal in fact. That way nobody gets wrongfully dumped in the river.