A Haunting Memory

Children sometimes say awful things to their parents while they are growing up. I certainly did. I regret a lot of my behavior over the past decade but only a few things weigh on me still.

Thanksgiving weekend 2003 I went out with some high school friends on Saturday night. We went to some apartment, I can't remember whose, an acquaintance of a friend, it was questionable. I played "never-have-I-ever" for the first time and we all got very drunk.

I made it home around 3am. I stumbled inside, fell up the stairs, and eventually made it into my room. The world was spinning. A short time passed which felt like a long time. I dragged myself over to my Chicago Bears trash can and threw up. At some point during my retching my mother opened my bedroom door. She asked "Steve...are you all right?"

I looked up at her- my eyes watering, body shaking, head hovering over the sick filled Chicago Bears receptacle- and replied gruffly "Shut. The Fucking. Door." And she did. It may be the moment I regret most in my entire life.

The next morning my father came into my room. Early. He asked "Did you puke in here?" and I cannot describe the scorn and disgust which my father injected into the word puke. I lied. "No." He looked at the Chicago Bears garbage can, picked it up, got a whiff of it, muttered "Jesus Fucking Christ" and walked out closing the door.

Shortly after I got up my friend Drew picked me up and we drove back to college. I don't think my parents and I ever discussed this particular event.

There were many similar events to follow which garnered much trouble, worry, and discussion. My parents have always supported me, loved me unconditionally, and endevored to help me. They never gave up on me, they never cut me out. I am grateful for them and sometimes astonished by the patience and restraint they showed.

Now I'm in a position to be truly loving, caring, and open with my parents. It's a gift. I can be there for them the way they have always been there for me. 

My folks July 2012 a week before they, along with my sister, helped me get some help.

Death Row Meal

One of celebrity chef Anthony Bourdain's favorite questions is "what is your death row meal" i.e. what would your last meal be if you could choose.

My mother's stromboli has been my favorite dish since she first made it when I was 12. Whenever possible I goad her into making it for me. Stromboli is a type of turnover filled with cheese and meat. Hers is simple and delicious. Our past couple Christmas dinners have featured stromboli and only by the gracious persistence of my sister did my mother make it this year. Good as ever.

Rounding out my last meal would be my mothers chicken chili(refrigerated and reheated the day after it was made), Brussels sprouts and a Cherry Coke Zero.

It would be a fine meal to end on.

A Different Kind Of Christmas

My family does all its activities Christmas Eve. We open presents between the four of us and then my extended family on my father's side get together and have pizza fondue for dinner.

For a long time the extended family would get each other gifts. The uncles and aunts would get the kids gifts until they were through college and the adults would draw names to get each other a gift. We gave up the gift exchange last year and at this point I only have two little cousins that get gifts.

This year was quite different. Marta and Nick just got engaged so there was a lot of excitement about that. My college-age cousins on my mom's side Iona, James, and John, in town from LA, spent the holiday with us. My mom's family is spread all over the country and some across the world so it was a great treat to have them with us.

In a surprise twist Tisher came and spent Christmas with us as well. Groupon is being progressively stingy with PTO so he couldn't make the trip back to Napa to be with his family. It was great and odd to have him there, like worlds colliding and I think he enjoyed himself but there is still something melancholy about spending the holiday with a family not your own.

All told that's nine people when our norm is four. The holiday was more crowded, a bit more stressful, and not as relaxing as it usually is. More often than not I spend the holiday lounging around and reading. This time there was a lot more running around, a lot more errands, a lot more logistics, and more entertaining to be done. Which was a nice change- fuller and more action packed. In the past I may have been put off by all the changes to our routines, but I was happy to mix things up and to be there for my family and friend to, together, have a great holiday.

I got my dad Undefeated on DVD. We watched it today before I came back to Chicago. We watched and cried, it was a wonderful Christmas.

Engagement!

My phone is almost always on silent so I frequently miss calls from people. I'm also fairly lax about returning calls so my dad and I have an unspoken code. If he texts me "Call when you can" that pretty much means call right away. My sister texted me last night "Call when you can. LU" and so even though it was late I called her back.

Marta: Well...Nick and I are engaged!

It was a very excited, surprising and joyous conversation. I am truly happy for her and am incredibly grateful to be in a position where I can be present and share/delight in the news, to be one of the first people she wants to call and tell.

I restrained myself from asking the questions that immediately come to mind- where and when- but could not resist joking-but-not-really-joking with Nick about his potential groomsmen, angling for a spot.

It is wonderful news. Easily the blinding highlight of the holiday season.

Nothing Like Family

This year my sister Marta spent Thanksgiving with her boyfriend's family so she got our family together again this morning for a post-holiday brunch. It was great to have everyone together but with 15 adults and 4 kids it was a little rambunctious. 

With full bellies some of us took the kids to the park. It was a beautiful day and great to horse around and kick the soccer ball in the fresh air.

I love my family, we've been through a lot and stuck together when it would have been relatively easy to fraction off. It's nice to have a younger generation coming up, it makes everything more lively and exciting. And begs the question- whose next to get married and/or have kids? A question of course all of us eligible to answer don't care for.

Thanksgiving

I'm thankful for family and Rockford and for the house I grew up in.
I'm thankful for garage door codes and blankets and cable "on demand".
I'm thankful for coffee and cigarettes and breakfast from a frying pan.
I'm thankful for audiences and iO and Craig.
I'm thankful for motorcycles and woods and poetry.
I'm thankful for cooking oil and spices and sharp knives for cutting veggies.
I'm thankful for chess and movies and pictures in focus.
I'm thankful for friends that listen and friends that talk and friends that hug.
I'm thankful for Tisher and Jimmy and fantasy book series.
I'm thankful for Beanpole and Adam and NPR.
I'm thankful for cousins and aunts and homemade whip cream.
I'm thankful for microphones and podcasts and editing.
I'm thankful for love- romantic, platonic, and familial.
I'm thankful for Mom's cranberry sauce and Uncle Mike's stuffing and Coke Zero.
I'm thankful for the companionship, support, and affection of Nicole.
I'm thankful for comics and classics and Centrum.
I'm thankful for exotic soaps and fresh tooth brushes and brand new razor blades.
I'm thankful for heat and good lighting and steam from the shower.
I'm thankful for comfy sofas and comfy beds and broken in pillows.
I'm thankful for inspiration and sobriety and stories.
I'm thankful for full moons and sunsets and quiet kisses.
I'm thankful for Stephen King and Gene Wolfe and John Irving and Terry Gross and Paul Newman and Johnny Cash and John Lee Hooker and Bill Wilson and Tom Wilkinson.

And you, dear reader, always you.

Billie Jean King

For most of my life my father and I have been the only men in my family. I have Uncles and boy cousins but they are spread out across the country and I rarely see them. In Rockford where I grew up it was just my dad and I. He grew up with three sisters. I grew up with a sister and three girl cousins. I had an early education in equality. I was taught respect from a group of strong minded, independent women for which I am grateful. My dad also was, and is, a good example of how to treat people.

One of my early memories is watching an A&E special about the 1973 "Battle Of The Sexes" tennis match- Billie Jean King vs. Bobby Riggs. I was very young and didn't understand what I was watching. My dad put the TV on mute and explained it to me.

Dad: Well Stever...Bobby Riggs was this washed up old pro who wasn't even that good in his prime, his whole thing was that women pros could never be as good as men, he challenged Billie Jean at first but she said no so he played and beat this older woman. He was a real loud mouth asshole saying women belonged in the bedroom and the kitchen stuff like that. After that game Billie Jean agreed to play him in a nationally televised match. We were all for her, it was generational, Stever this was '73- Vietnam time, the nation was...it was political, it was more than a tennis match. This was also around the time of Title IX so equality was a big thing for us. We were sick of the old foags running things and we wanted a change, Billie Jean was a symbol. Anyway. Up to the match Riggs was non-stop trash talking trying to get in Billie Jean's head, like Ali before Rumble In The Jungle, except Riggs was no Ali, didn't have the talent, didn't have the words. Billie Jean just trains, didn't let it bother her. The match comes, Billie Jean waxes Riggs. Makes the old man run the court till he can't take it. It was huge. The Lib beat the Lip.

The story and the message stuck with me. This year is the 40th anniversary of the match and BJK is the subject of a PBS Masters documentary that aired last week. You can also listen to a great interview with Billie Jean King on Fresh Air here.

It Is My Name.

In Fantasy names have power, the true names of things are how magic is worked. It's a metaphor that reflects the workings of the real world. Nick names, full names, pet names, secret names, all mean something, all carry with them stories and implications, all have a certain amount of power in them.

When I was young(sometimes still nostalgically) my parents called me Stever Beaver.

When I was a camp counselor the campers and counselors called me Steve-o.

Once when Adam, Beanpole, and I were at a party we started to take peoples cell phones and make random calls. One person I talked to asked me who I was and I said apropos of nothing "This is The Candlestick Maker." Periodically when Adam and Beanpole are feeling especially playful they'll call me that.

When I first moved to Chicago the people I was hanging out with called me Hounddog.

Adam and I took a road trip out to the west coast a couple years ago. There was a stretch of 200 miles or so that was littered with signs for sweet cherries. That night we decided my fictitious boxing name would be Sweet Cherry Nelson. When Adam wants to get me pumped up he calls me Sweet Cherry.

Julia calls me Stevienelno.

James calls me Sjnelso.

As a kid my mom's family would call me Stevie and I hated it, now some of my friends do it and I like it.

My soccer coach called me Nelson.

At work I am Steven. Most everywhere else I am Steve.

Many people, for reasons unknown to me, refer to me by my full name Steve Nelson.

What people call you, what you answer to, shape and define you. Names are like hints, suggestions, of who a person is. They can also be armor. They can give form and protection but can also destroy.

To name a thing is to bring it into the world. That is not always wise.

Count The Dead

I talk to my dad once or twice a week. I noticed today that during every conversation I've had with him for months now he mentions a friend or acquaintance of his that has died. These are people I do not know, people I may have met once as a child, or heard the names of over dinner. I thought of asking him not to mention these peoples deaths when we talk. It's mildly depressing every conversation detouring inevitably to someones death. But then I reconsidered.

Death is nature taking it's course. Everybody dies. We should not forget that fact or the people that have gone before. We should not forget the contributions big and small, the struggles big and small, the joys big and small- of those that have died. My dad telling me about his friends and acquaintances that have passed is a way of keeping them alive. Of cultivating their memory. Of giving credence and value to their life.

We cannot forget the dead. They lived. They paved the way to the present with lives both simple and complex. Every life has meaning. Some tragic, some prosperous, some inconsequential. They all deserve to be remembered. To have names that are still uttered.

I realized I was looking at it wrong. I'm not bogged down by this list of deaths, I'm strengthened by it. By listening to my dad recount funerals and names and hearing about their lives, I'm participating in them. I'm contributing in a small way to their legacy, their scope. I'm here to take note. To remember. To live on.

Respect the past, live in the present.

MadTown

I went back to Rockford for the weekend and Today my dad and I trotted up to Madison to spend some time with my sister Marta and her boyfriend Nick. We had some breakfast("Tell Marta we got to go to the place with the breakfast nachos" - my dad) and walked around downtown: I looked for books, my dad scratched his ever present itch for bargain college clothing, and Marta and Nick chaperoned.

We ended up at the lake front relaxing and sharing popcorn. This lady was reading the New Yorker in the shade with her sunhat. Chill to the max.

I've been trying to take more pictures recently. Become a little more natural at whipping out the camera when there's stuff I want to take pictures of or seeing the opportunities when they arise. I call this one "Pontoon Envy".

Across the way from Marta's apartment there's an office building. I don't know what the person is shaming but they seem pretty vehement about it.

It was a great visit. I'm not really one to keep in touch by email or phone so it's great to get a chance to spend some quality time with my sister who I love very much. I need to share the same space as people, digital communication has so little depth. She helped me through some hard times which has brought us closer- I know that even if we don't talk that often she'll always be there and she will always love me and she will always listen. I hope she knows the same is true of me for her. I only have one sister and we're in this thing together. And for me that's an extremely comforting thought.

                                        

29

Subtitle: Habits my father gave me in two parts

Around two in the morning I turned 29. I've never put much expectations on a birthday since I had a pinata and Magic Mike perform for my 7th birthday, you can't really top that. Today was a good day, the HR lady got everyone bagels and fruit in celebration of my birth. She also inconspicuously gave me a cup cake with a candle and a book of matches, presumably for me to have my own little party and make a wish in secret in order for it to have a greater chance of coming true.

After work I met HP and Tisher to see Monsters University. My pick of course and the first animated movie I voluntarily went to see since the original in 2001. Afterwards Tisher and I went to Pick Me Up for dinner and of course, my birthday necessity, chocolate cake. It was a great day: I saw a movie, ate chocolate cake, and spent some time with two of my closest friends.

Reflecting on 28 it was a good year. Some downs but mostly ups, I think there's a lot to be done, a lot of potential for the next year. Tonight, though, two things especially made me happy, habits I realized I picked up from my father.

Surprise Me. Ever since I can remember whenever my dad is in a situation, usually at a restaurant, when he can say "surprise me" to the server or employee he does. If he's offered a number of options or suggestions he enjoyed having the person pick and being surprised. It's something I started doing a couple years ago and I continue to do. Our server at Pick Me Up said they had two types of chocolate cake: flowerless and vegan espresso. I asked her to surprise me and she brought me the vegan espresso chocolate cake which I was hoping for and which was delicious. I don't know why but that small interaction always excites me and makes me extremely happy.

Chocolate Cake. Growing up my father always told this story about his Grandma Bertha. One day when he was visiting her farm she asked him what he wanted for breakfast the next day and he said "chocolate cake". She made him chocolate cake for breakfast the next day and every subsequent time he went to visit her. As her grew older he became a little tired of chocolate cake in the morning but would always eat it without complaint because she would make it from scratch. Because of this whenever there is chocolate cake left over from a birthday or graduation or anniversary we would indulge in the Nelson Breakfast in honor of Grandma Bertha. Because of this or maybe despite it it's always been my favorite dessert and holds a scared place in my heart.

For me any big event, any milestone, any accomplishment, any disappointment has to be celebrated or mourned with a slice of chocolate cake. It's tradition, a Nelson ritual.

My 29th birthday was no exception.

 

Valhalla

In Norse mythology there's a majestic hall in the sky where all the heroic spirits are gathered. The hall is called Valhalla, under the watchful eye of Odin the All-Father the dead heroes feast, tell stories, and train for the coming of Ragnarok. The end of days.

When I look up in the sky I think of Valhalla, I think of all the spirits of great men and women who have passed, that are waiting, watching, vigilantly for a time they will be needed.

I imagine my grandfather there. Smiling and telling stories to his brothers. Watching over me and helping when he can. It's a comforting thought. It makes the day bright and sharp.

Full of potential.

April Showers, May Flowers

 I came back to Rockford for the weekend to see my folks, sister, my friend Adam and his boys. I had a great visit with everyone and went on a walk with my sis at one point. We saw a bunch of beautiful spring flowers, enjoyed the sun, and I reveled in the spaciousness of the neighborhood I grew up in.

 We saw a ton of tulips(my favorite flower) and daffodils.

 A couple small dogwoods.

 I think these are phlox but I'm not sure.

 More tulips!

 A couple gorgeous magnolia trees. Adam has one in his yard.

 Tons of daffodils, I'm not really fans of these things, overexposure maybe.

I got to see Adam and his boys Ethan and Eli. We played outside with some sidewalk chalk and glow sticks, then went inside and played with action figures for about an hour and a half. Toward the end of the night we we're flipping and flying and throwing the boys around. Probably not the best idea right before they went to bed but it was a great night. The highlight of my week. It's a joy to see Adam so happy and to be a part of the family he's making.

Rockford is my hometown. A great place to visit to decompress, see the stars, and smell the grass.

 

Easter Sunday

 My family got together this afternoon at my cousins Alyssa and Kelli's to celebrate Easter. Owen my little cousin was sick so we had to relocate our get together from Rockford to Chicago which was great for me because it meant I could actually attend. We've never put much stock in the religionisty of holidays its just an excuse to get together, eat good food, and jaw. It's always such a joy to see my family and there's something really special about having four generations under one roof. We talked extensively about CPS, charter schools, private schools, and educational philosophises.

Later in the evening Joey, Scott, and I played with Craig in U Who? It was a real fun show about Wisconsin seceding from the union, importing jeans from Canada, refusing to export cheese, and forcing everyone to raise rabbits.

A warm, wonderful holiday.

Home Again, Home Again

My extended family got together for lunch and cake today. We were celebrating a number of birthdays and making up time for not getting together over Christmas. My Aunt Julie and Uncle Mike were in from Philly too which was a nice surprise. The next generation of the family is coming up so it's fun to have my little cousins running around, playing games, and spouting off some really funny stuff. It's fun to pick up little humans and swing them around, for them it's the most thrilling thing in the world.

I got to talk to a couple of my relatives one on one which is always my preference. Having big group conversations in my family always turns relatively quickly to politics which is fun but I never get to find out what everyone is up to. My sister(above) and I got to talk briefly about books and her recent vacation. I also got to talk in depth with My Uncle Mike about his business as well as some of my forthcoming projects. I got a ride back to Chicago with my cousin Sarah, her husband Doug, and their two wonderful goofball kids Owen and Kellen, as well as my cousin Alyssa. We got to have a nice chat interspersed with messing with the kids, it was a great ride.

I love my family. I may not be the best at keeping in touch between visits. But when I see them all I want to do is hug and talk.

A Story

By Julia Weiss

“But it's NOT blue,” Sandy said, throwing the tiny glass elephant to the ground. It shattered into a lot of pieces, maybe even 4,000 pieces, but I didn't count, because I'm just a 3^rd person omnicient narrator and I wasn't actually there, partially because this is a made up story. Anyway, Sandy threw the wee fragile elephant down because her brother Carl insisted it was blue. She was angry because she didn't think the elephant was blue. Maybe you think Sandy is a jerk, but she was right. The elephant wasn't blue. It was green. Carl was being the jerk. He kept saying “It's a blue ElEphant, Sannnndy” all day long. I bet she really wanted to shatter a tiny glass Carl into 4,000 pieces.

I hope that your first impression of Sandy doesn't forever taint your opinion even though you now know the truth. That happens sometimes. When I was little, my parents would always tell me made up stuff to get me to do things they wanted me to do like eat stuff I didn't want to eat or wash my body or listen at school, and I believed them, and even after I found out they were making stuff up, I couldn't stop believing them- The crust of your bread really won't stop cancer, neither will cleaning between your toes and neither will 3^rd grade.

So anyway, the elephant was so passed repair that it was just stupid when Carl went to get the pot of glue that their mother kept in the bathroom closet. Two things: 1. this story takes place long enough ago that glue came in pots. 2. What a dumb place to keep glue.

Carl was only getting glue so their mom would think he was the good child. What a jerk move. When he got to the bathroom he saw his mom putting away towels. This was perfect, Carl thought, because Carl's a total jerk. He put on this fake angel voice – I mean, I guess all angel voices are fake because there isn't a God or a heaven so there aren't any angels, but I mean, he faked this angelic voice so she'd love him best and he said “mommy, I-I-I-I need the glue.” Fake stuttering is a great way to make people think you're innocent and trying to protect your jerk sister. “Why do you need it,” Asked the woman old enough to know better than to trust a kid like Carl. “Well... soooooomeone broke your little glass elephant... the green one. I tried to stop it... oh mommy.” Carl jabbed his fat fingers into his eyes as he buried his head in his mother's apron and pretended to cry. Three things: 1. Carl's fingers aren't really fat, I just said that to be mean and in our culture we equate fat with bad, which is something I don't condone and I'm ashamed of myself for perpetuating that. 2. He poked his eyes to make them red and teary because he's a real jerk. 3. Sandy never gets away with this stuff.

Sandy and Carl's mother, who's a real idiot, dropped the towels and comforted her asshole son, pardon my French. “You're a very good boy,” she said. He's not. She took her pot of glue and walked with her still-fake-crying-asshole-son to the room where Sandy was sitting on the floor crying real tears of frustration. Sandy's actually a very smart and interesting child with a lot of good ideas that are quite advanced for her age but no one ever listens to her.

“Sandy” said the stern voice of a woman too dumb to know that her son's a real dickwad. “Did you break my tiny glass elephant?”

“CARL KEPT SAYING IT WAS BLUE!”

“No I didn't, mommy, -sniff-sniff- it's green, anyone can see that.”

“Sandy, it's not nice to lie about the color of elephants and it's not nice to break other people's things.”

“I didn't mean to... and... I didn't lie! I-” As Sandy tried to explain herself, her mother slowly started spreading glue over the frustrated little girl's arms.

“Sandy, I just don't think I'll ever get through to you. And I fear I can no longer try. Carl, sweetypumpkimuffiwumples, close your eyes.” Carl smiled and peeked through his hands as his mother slashed open a pillow. This was long enough ago that everyone had down pillows, I think that's a thing – I'm not really omniscient, that's just what they call this type of narrator, I don't know everything about the vague time period I've set this in. Anyway, the mom who favored Carl stuck the feathers who her weeping glued-on daughter, and told her to go outside this instant. Carl sniffle-smiled and his mother handed him a candy apple – it was just in her pocket waiting for a jerk like Carl. Within moments, an eagle swooped down and carried Sandy away. I know you'd like to think that Sandy lived happily ever after in an eagles nest, but she died.

Loved Ones

This Christmas was a little different for the Nelson household. We didn't get together with my extended family which was a disappointment but it was nice to have two full days of relaxation. We sat around, ate a lot of delicious food, watched movies, and gabbed. My family does most of our Christmas on the Eve. We open presents and we have pizza fondue. In the days of Santa Clause we would exchange presents between us on the Eve and Santa would come on the Day. These days Christmas day is exclusively for lounging and watching movies. This holiday has been especially great because I've gotten to see so many people that I love. My family of course(above), Punam, Beanpole, Adam, and Matt.

Punam spent Christmas with me which was great. It's nice to be out of the city where both of us can just sit. Spend some time with each other where we aren't coming from shows or going to shows. In preparation for the holiday we made cookies. Something I haven't done in years. Some had surprise treats inside, we were experimenting with relative success.

Beanpole and his wife Jen came over and we got to spend some much needed QT together. Whenever I get to see him I feel like I become the scrappy twenty something that use to live with him. I use to make this face in a lot of pictures and haven't in years. Beanpole's latest project is a children's book staring characters he's made up called "werp-werps" which he will write and illistrate.

On our way out of town Punam, my dad, and I stopped by Beefaroo to see Adam. We only had a quick visit but its always nice to see him. He's the only close friend I have who has a real family. He's like a real dad. He stayed up on Christmas Eve putting together a Ninja Turtles Club House.

Last but not least Matt has been in town visiting Katie's family. He sat in with Schwa last Sunday and we had a great show. It's always great to get back on stage with him and it always seems like he never left. That old connection is always there.

Overall it's been a great holiday. Joy and peace to you and yours.

Thanksgiving

My family drove out to Philadelphia to spend Thanksgiving with my Aunt, Uncle, and cousin. We use to do this every year when I was growing up but haven't made the trip in ten or so years. It was a wonderful visit with an excellent meal prepared expertly by my Uncle Mike. He makes the best stuffing I've ever had. Today we went into to Philly proper to see some sites. Of course we had to visit and pay homage to the recently restored Rocky statue at the art museum.

My sister wanted to go to the Comcast center which boasts the largest HD TV in the world. I wasn't very impressed but there were hundreds of people there to see there twenty minute 'show'. Personally I don't get it, we're addicted to TV too much as is.

This is the top of the Comcast building. I wonder if that square indentation is suppose to resemble a TV. Or maybe it's just the CEO's deck.

This was an old guard tower which was left alone while a bunch of condo's were built around it.

For some unknown reason my Uncle Mike took us to Fort Mifflin on the way downtown. No one really wanted to visit there. There wasn't much to it but this was one of the munitions storage mounds.

A Philly sunset.

All in all it was a great trip. I haven't spent that much time with my family in years. And I haven't seen our Philly relatives all together for a while. It was a nice trip, a nice change of pace, a wonderful dinner, and some casual sight seeing. I missed a show and I did most of the driving but it was worth it.

The low light though was the scarcity of coffee. My Aunt and Uncle don't drink coffee and so didn't have any in house. It was a trial each morning to have my morning coffee and cigarette. Who doesn't drink coffee?

I'm thankful for my friends, family, Punam, and this wonderful world I've found myself in.

Stuffing rules.

Bowling Again

Punam's birthday was today and it was wonderful. The highlight for me was going bowling. Sarah, Punam, and I went to the Diversey Bowl and played two games. I haven't been bowling in a while but everything came back pretty quick. And a lot of memories too.

When I was really young my dad would take me bowling. He was in a battle of the sexes with a woman from his office and he would go to practice most weekends. He would bring me along. I would usually play one game maybe two. He would give me some pointers but I didn't really have much interest at the time. What I did have interest in was the arcade.

After my attention wandered my dad would give me some quarters to go play in the arcade. My favorite game there was Street Fighter II. I got progressively better at it the more we went. At the time I don't remember being really good at anything. I didn't excel at anything at that time, I think I was 7 or 8.

One day a couple of tough older kids came up to me while I was playing Street Fighter II. They wanted to play. They challenged me to a game with the winner "controlling" the consoul. I had never played anyone else just the computer and I think at the time we didn't have Nintendo or anything at my house yet. I was nervous but I said ok, I just wanted to keep playing.

I trounced him. I trounced his buddy. They got more of their friends and I beat all of them too. Instead of being mad at me they were in awe of how good I was and cheered me on. It was the first time I ever felt exceptional at anything.

Whenever I go into a bowling alley I think of that moment and smile.

Be Present

Until recently I would only see my sister a couple times a year. I would see her on holidays and occasionally she would come to visit me but I would make virtually no effort to visit her. I regret this, I always had excuses, I was always very busy, but I never made time, I never showed up.

I feel like I was given another chance. I was given a clear head and an open heart. I was given tools and opportunities to maintain that. And with clarity and peace I have a marvelous opportunity. To be present and pleasant for the ones I love.

I went back to Rockford yesterday to spend time with my sister and dad. I've seen my sister more in the past three months than in the past year. We had a great time. We went out to eat and just sat around and watched TV and chatted. It feels great to be in a place where I can do that. I have the time to see my family but more importantly when I do I can be there with them.

Sometimes all you need to do is show up. It makes all the difference.