Reflections and Projections

January 3, 2012 By Leave a Comment

2011 was an eventful year for me.  It was my first full year back from Tokyo, where events in March reminded me that timing is everything…and that Earth > man.  My transition back into American life was seamless, as evidenced by my willingness to spend money on stupid things and eat lots of meat.  That was until about November, when viewings of various documentaries convinced me that eating meat actually is kinda gross, and a reading of Steve Jobs’ life reminded me that less can indeed be more.  Who knows whether I’ll stick with it but the early results look promising.

I earned an MBA and ran a marathon during the year, which I think officially qualifies me as an A-type personality.  This puts me in rarefied air since 3% of the U.S. population has an MBA and 1% has run a marathon.  According to my calculations, that makes me one of sixteen people in the country to have done both, which proves that I’m both unique and good at imaginary math.  Both accomplishments involved discipline and constant reminders that it would all be worth it in the end.  Conventional wisdom suggests that I should be smarter and fitter as a result.  Instead, I feel broker and more broken.  These are the practical outcomes of actually paying for an MBA and running hundreds of miles over the course of a few months.  Having people assume that you’re smart is expensive.  And pounding your joints for miles on end is painful.  Would I ever do both again?  No.  Am I glad I did them?  Yes.  Does that make me a walking contradiction?  Perhaps.  Is my beard itching me as I write this?  You betcha.

On balance, I’d characterize 2011 as a generally good year.  Sure, my investment portfolio succumbed to the gyrations of a schizophrenic market, my head ceded more space to my scalp, and poor Kim Kardashian lost love as quickly as she found it.  But a year that sees Muammar Gaddafi take one in the pooper just prior to his expiration and Osama bin Laden get double-tapped by our nation’s finest is good by me.  This happiness was, of course, lessened by the deaths of the incomparable Christopher Hitchens and Steve Jobs.  And the fact that Kim Jong Il was felled by a heart attack in his sleep – when he should’ve met an end more horrific than Gaddafi’s, were justice to prevail – was disappointing.  But as the Cowboys prove, you can’t win ‘em all (or most of ‘em, for that matter).

I don’t much like New Year’s resolutions since they usually focus on bettering our lesser selves.  This involves acknowledgement of imperfection and weakness, which is never fun and not entirely relevant given that I am without fault in all respects.  But trying to be better is a dandy enough exercise – and making lists is fun – so let’s have at it.  Onward and upward, I shall endeavor to do the following in 2012:

  1. Use my iPhone more for tracking my fantasy teams than for checking work email.
  2. Finally finish a book written by Jonathan Franzen (we’ll leave David Foster Wallace for a more ambitious time).
  3. Drink less alcohol.
  4. Blog more, especially when drinking alcohol.
  5. Lessen my news consumption so as to increase my love of country.
  6. Learn to appreciate the joy of quiet (as Pico Iyer so eloquently explained in a recent OpEd, “…it’s only by having some distance from the world that you can see it whole, and understand what you should be doing with it”).
  7. Enjoy my Fall weekends more.  In other words, watch less of the Irish on Saturdays and the Cowboys on Sundays.
  8. Read more of the books that are already on my bookshelf rather than adding to them with new purchases.
  9. Finally return that voicemail that Warren Buffett left me.
  10. Write a book.  It will be about stuff.  I think you’ll like it.
Filed Under: Literature, Personal, Politics, Sports Tagged With:

Time To Get My Run On

October 9, 2011 By Leave a Comment

So tomorrow’s the big day.  Months of training culminate in one final, early morning run.  This time, of course, I’ll be joined by 45,000 other runners and cheered on by thousands of onlookers.  Should be a good time, save for the fact that I came down with a cold on Friday and have spent the entire day today coughing, sneezing, and discharging massive amounts of mucus.  My goal of 3.5 hours will likely be unattainable given the phlegm in my chest and the pounding in my head.  But the goal of simply finishing will be just fine by me.

Anyone wishing to track my progress is invited to sign up for updates that allow you to track me online or by your cell phone.  For reference, my bib number is: 47889.  And for those of you who plan to attend the actual event, I’ll be the dude rocking the shirt below.




Filed Under: Personal, Sports Tagged With:

Livestrong

October 5, 2011 By Leave a Comment

As many of you know, I’ll be attempting to recreate the run of the Greek messenger Pheidippides on the streets of Chicago this coming Sunday.  There are important differences between me and the Greek legend, of course.  For one, I’ll be tackling the 26 miles and 385 yards in modern-day running gear instead of a toga and sandals.  Two, I won’t be announcing a defeat of the Persians at the end of my journey, as I’ll instead be more inclined to tell the story of my victory over blisters and cramps.  Three, I’m pretty sure Pheidippides didn’t have thousands of cheering fans lining his path to Athens, helping him power through those inevitable moments of desperation that accompany such physical feats (yep, I’m pretty sure the poor guy suffered alone, silently).  And four, I don’t plan on collapsing and dying once I reach the finish line, but I suppose no one actually plans for such things so I guess I’ll just have to hope for the best.

I’ll be dedicating my run to the memory of Bob “The Wheel” Lampe, about whom I wrote a little while back.  As you may recall, Bob passed away recently after a battle with cancer.  I’ve decided to sign up for Team Livestrong to honor his memory this weekend.  Anyone interested in supporting me in this effort is encouraged to visit my fundraising website where any amount given, large or small, would be greatly appreciated.  Livestrong!

Filed Under: Chicago, Personal Tagged With: ,

New Ride

August 8, 2011 By 1 Comment

As some of you know, we recently upgraded our car situation.  I got Lizzi to take a photo of our new ride while I was out cruising with my homies the other day:

Filed Under: Misc., Personal

In Memoriam: The Wheel

July 24, 2011 By 2 Comments

The father of one of my best friends passed away last week after a struggle with cancer.  Since I consider his impact on me worth sharing, I’m reposting my letter to his family with their permission.

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I met Bob Lampe in August 1996.  He was dropping his son, Ryan, off at Lake Forest College’s Blackstone Hall for his freshman year of college.  As fate would have it, Ryan and I formed half of a quad that year, which made us among each other’s first contact points on our college journey.

As a single child from a broken home with little exposure to the traditional nuclear family, the Lampe’s made an immediate impression on me.  Beyond the aesthetics of a picture-perfect family, what resonated most with me was the emotion that was brought to bear that day.  Being careful not to smother their son in front of his new friends, their parental pride was nonetheless on full display and the amount of love in that room was palpable.

At the center of it all was the larger-than-life personality of Bob, who endearingly referred to himself as The Wheel.  His self-appointed nickname had something to do with being at the center of it all.  Or maybe it was meant to capture his being the structure that supported everything at the center.  Whatever its meaning, the nickname fit perfectly, and all of Ryan’s college buddies happily embraced the moniker.

As my friendship with Ryan grew over the years, so did my relationship with The Wheel.  Without much of a connection to my own father, watching the interaction between Ryan and his dad was a learning experience for me.  I remember thinking to myself on multiple occasions, “So this is how it’s supposed to be.”  I’m pretty sure The Wheel picked up on this as well.  I recall several occasions when he would call for Ryan and I’d answer the phone.  Though I can’t be certain of it, I’ve convinced myself that our chats at the beginnings of those calls sometimes lasted longer than his conversations with Ryan.  I also like to think that The Wheel wasn’t always bummed to only get me on the line when Ryan wasn’t home.  This meant the world to me, and so just as I grew to love Ryan as a brother, I grew to love his dad as my own as well.

I was never jealous of Ryan’s relationship with The Wheel.  Instead, I realize that what I saw in that relationship was not just admirable but also aspirational.  For example, I recall a night during our freshman year when Ryan’s parents were in town and they generously invited me to dinner with them.  Throughout the dinner, Ryan’s parents remained actively engaged in learning about his college life and experience, an interest that warmly extended to me as well.  At the end of the dinner, The Wheel put his credit card down to pick up the tab.  This was a small, everyday gesture that unlikely warranted a second thought from The Wheel.  However, it had a lasting impact on me.  Maybe it had something to do with being a poor college kid or my not being accustomed to being taken out for dinner.  Whatever it was, it gave me something to strive for: I wanted to be able to take my son and his college roommate to dinner someday.  And I wanted to be 100% absorbed in what they had to say about their experience.  As trivial as that may sound, its importance to me was substantial.

I also remember receiving a letter from The Wheel when I was struggling with some medical issues of my own.  In it, he attempted to draw attention away from my rather embarrassing ordeal to focus instead on his own travails (which may or may not have involved his struggle with “hemmies” when he went to the “boom-boom room to do the boom-boom”).  In addition to making me chuckle with his trademark sense of humor, The Wheel revealed himself to be a man of massive sentiment, a man whose heart perfectly suited his very large stature.

Hardworking, cantankerous, stubborn, and sincere, The Wheel was a feisty bear of a man whose musings could’ve filled a book.  In fact, I’m more than a little convinced that Ryan could’ve penned his own version of “Shit My Dad Says” that would’ve done quite well.  At the very least, I’m certain that each of his friends would’ve had the book on proud display on their bookshelves.  If ever there was a sense of humor to be described as beautifully sarcastic, it was The Wheel’s.  His delivery was always pitch perfect, and each shot delivered a wallop of wit and wisdom.

More than anything else, I’ll remember The Wheel’s undying love for Ryan.  Evidence of that was the amount of love that he extended to Ryan’s friends, in whose lives he took an active interest and concern.  I count myself lucky for being one of those friends, for this allowed me to feel, even tangentially, the love that a father has for his son.  This manifested itself most poignantly for me when a group of Ryan’s college buddies flew in for his wedding.  As everyone parted ways the morning after the celebration, The Wheel was tearing up as he hugged us all goodbye.  Perhaps still overwhelmed from the previous night’s event, one could sense the thankful pride that The Wheel felt at knowing how much love we all had for his son.  I could see it in his eyes that he returned that love in full measure.

Last year, I flew out to Seattle to spend some time with The Wheel as he was undergoing treatment for his illness.  He was in the midst of an intense round of chemotherapy, so it was a tough time for him to take visitors.  I was therefore honored that he let me follow him around for a couple of days.  We had a number of chats as I sat with him at the hospital or helped him run errands.  During one of those conversations, he revealed himself to be insecure about his mark on this world and the legacy he was leaving behind.  I suppose that staring one’s own mortality in the face can elicit such emotions of doubt.  He was particularly worried about having been the best father that he could and he sincerely hoped that his children loved him.  As we drove along in his tiny pickup that day, I told him that I didn’t know of any other friend who loved his father more than Ryan did his.  And I told him of the impact he had on me, that there was a reason one of Ryan’s college buddies was in the car with him that day.  His relationship with Ryan – and by extension with me – had taught me everything I know about what a father-son relationship should look like.  Having his son’s friends grow to love him as very much their own father should probably count as a parenting success.  We sat in silence for a good time after that, staring straight ahead while doing little to hide the fact that we were both crying.  I will take that moment with me forever.

Winston Churchill once said, “I am ready to meet my maker.  Whether my maker is prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me is another matter.”  Like me, I believe The Wheel qualified as “position flexible” when it came to matters of spirituality and religion.  But if there is a heaven, it should hold a special place for the likes of Bob “The Wheel” Lampe.  And I’d pay good money to see him go toe-to-toe with the gatekeeper of that place.

Filed Under: Personal Tagged With:

Shaking Off The Cobwebs

April 26, 2010 By 3 Comments

A friend sent me a note the other day lamenting the death of Eddyfication, which he referred to as “the blog who knew too much”.  Being reminded that I once had a blog was revelation enough, but knowing that my silence is robbing my friends – not to mention the whole of humanity – of such an insightful voice (tongue wedged firmly in cheek) was simply too much to bear.

So I’m now officially back in the saddle and hoping rather sincerely that I stay that way for the foreseeable future.  The reality is that I’ve been extremely busy these past six weeks or so.  Between work, school, and various other extracurriculars, I’ve quite simply been preoccupied with a host of more pressing issues (some of which may or may not involve exploding volcanoes and imploding countries).

Indeed, much has happened since we last spoke.  While the EU found itself soaked in Greek debt, I found myself knee-deep in Greeks of another sort; namely, lambdas, alphas, betas, vegas, thetas, and epsilons.  This is partly a school reference, to which I offer the following advice to my readers:  If you ever see me taking a position of operational management at any company on the planet, you should drop everything that instant, raise money for a short-selling fund, and put all of your capital to work shorting the unfortunate company that gave me such authority.  For it is clear that the company itself is a terrible judge of talent, which in itself is a red flag.  Moreover, I will be sure to destroy value in a remarkable way in my new role, resulting in a decent payday for the presciently bearish among us.

We also saw James Cameron get robbed by the academy of a best director award at this year’s Oscars.  While I very much enjoyed The Hurt Locker and could understand why it may be deserving of best picture, the best director snub of Cameron was totally inexcusable.  You can’t spend ten years of your life inventing new technology to totally transform and remake the movie-going experience – and smash box office records with the final product (inflation-adjusted arguments aside) – and not be deemed worthy of the goods by the movie gods.  You just can’t.

And we saw Tiger Woods emerge from his dark pool of remorse to stage a fairly impressive comeback at The Masters.  Of course, he reverted to his usual unpleasant self with a couple of potty-mouthed outbursts during the tournament, which he later addressed by reminding us that he wasn’t perfect (thanks for the heads-up).  Nonetheless, while I’ve never been a fan of Tiger the person, I’m quite happy as an avid sports fan to have one of the planet’s best athletes back in action doing what he does best.  And I wouldn’t be American if I weren’t a sucker for a good comeback story.

Speaking of athletes I suspect are hard to like on a personal level, the Ben Roethlisberger fiasco has been fun to watch.  Not only has it confirmed that guys who look like meatheads typically behave like ones, but it also appears to have elevated the notion that character counts when it comes to team sports.  The most prominent evidence of the Big Ben fallout was the inexplicable decision by the Denver Broncos to draft Tim Tebow in the first round of last week’s NFL draft, well ahead of a more technically capable quarterback in Jimmy Clausen.  Indeed, Clausen had been tabbed by some observers as a top ten talent yet he didn’t go off the board until the Carolina Panthers exercised mercy with the 48th pick.  I’ll forgive for a moment Tebow’s obnoxious religiosity and concede that he strikes me as a good guy: he’s a hard-working, battle-hardened winner that clearly commands the respect of his teammates.  Clausen, on the other hand, is quite clearly a dick, something he announced with a bullhorn when he committed to ND at the College Football Hall of Fame way back when.  Being the diehard Irish fan that I am, I’ve followed closely Clausen’s career and am quite familiar with his childish antics on the field and his overbearing, ever-present family.  I also know that he is one helluva QB and am quite certain he will show well in the NFL.  He has a good arm, is extremely accurate, is a gritty competitor, and has a high football IQ.  Clearly, such potential wasn’t enough when it mattered most (i.e. on payday), something that I suspect relates to questions surrounding Clausen’s maturity and leadership skills.

As a tangent, I wonder if analysts like Todd McShay – who roundly criticized Clausen’s intangibles throughout the pre-draft assessment period – could ever be sued for defamation.  I mean, if Clausen goes on to have a great career as an NFL QB (thus proving McShay wrong), could he go back and sue McShay for influencing NFL managements and causing his draft stock to fall so precipitously, robbing him of tens of millions of dollars in potential earnings?  Hmmm….

Meanwhile, the uninformed and hypocritical masses have set their sights on Goldman (I have no idea what happened and whether anyone is guilty of anything, I just like to marvel at the astounding ignorance demonstrated by the mass media in its coverage of the issue and I wonder when someone will sue the U.S. government for its own Fannie and Freddie shenanigans); Ahmedinejad was recently seen smiling and shaking hands with Robert Mugabe in Zimbabwe (birds of a feather…); Sarah Palin is being paid millions of dollars to, of all things, write(!) and speak(!!); Glenn Beck remains as commercial and crazy as ever; MTV has rolled out a new Fresh Meat series; American Idol is in full swing; South Park is at the top of its game; Keith Olbermann is still angry; and everyone’s favorite megalomaniacal midget just torpedoed a South Korean warship (providing a wonderful real-time study in game theory).

I’ve got plenty of material, dear friends!

Filed Under: Finance, Misc., Movies, Personal, Politics, Sports

Stressed Out In Singapore

September 7, 2009 By Leave a Comment

I returned home to Tokyo last night after a fairly grueling six days of class in Singapore.  As some of you know, I’m currently studying for my MBA at the University of Chicago, which has a campus in Singapore (as well as London).  Beyond the great reputation of the school, one of the things that appealed to me about the program was the fact that I would receive the same MBA as the full-time students even though my program is an executive one (which is designed for mid-career working professionals).  Naturally, this means that the executive curriculum is essentially the same as the full-time one, which means our one-week modules are highly compressed and action-packed.  Each day lasts about twelve hours on average (9 AM to 9 PM), though sitting with study groups until the wee hours isn’t out of the question.  So what I figured initially was a strength of the program has turned out, in a practical sense, to be a total pain in the ass.  If anything, this little endeavor will be quite the lesson in time management.

The madness of this program really struck home as I walked back to my hotel after a thirteen hour day of statistics and microeconomics on Friday.  I was fried, tired and dreading the massive tuition check that I had just realized was due the following week.  And as I noodled Bernoulli functions and the deadweight losses that arise in the presence of price controls, I was enveloped by a crowd of happy-go-lucky Singaporeans who had flooded the streets to celebrate the end of another workweek.  As I weaved my way through the jolly crowd, I was overwhelmed by a sense of jealousy, for not only did I have no plans for the evening to blow off any steam, but I had another solid ten hours of class ahead of me the next day (Saturday).  It was around this time that I began to question my own sanity.

The world, however, was made right upon my return to Tokyo.  Though the trip back to the city from the airport was stupid long (as always), I finally made it back to our little part of town around 5 PM last night.  My two lovely ladies, Lizzi and Hurley, greeted me outside of the Grand Hyatt (where the bus drops me off), which was a beautiful sight to see.  Lizzi was glowing and Hurley damn near passed out with excitement to see her dad again.  Seriously, I don’t think I’ve ever been greeted with such an outrageous display of giddiness in my life.  If Hurley were a human, she would’ve caused quite the socially unacceptable scene.  Jumping, crying, licking.  It was a mess.  But since she’s a cute little dog, people just stopped and awed at the adorable little furball caught in a state of ecstatic oblivion.  Speaking of Hurley, I’m writing this while sipping some wine on our balcony on a pleasant Tokyo night, and she’s staring at me through the glass door with a tennis ball in her mouth.  Is she trying to tell me something?  In any event, once we made it back to the apartment, Lizzi poured some cold Miller Lite in frosty mugs, grilled up some superb turkey burgers, and fired up the Slingbox so we could watch the Irish destroy Nevada.  All in all, a great ending to a challenging week.

By the way, I noticed a few random things while in Singapore.  To begin with, it finally hit me how ridiculously cold all the buildings are in the city.  Everywhere you go, you are guaranteed to be greeted by a wall of frigid cold air upon entering a building.  I sit in class all day freezing my ass off, and my walks home are punctuated by blasts of cold air as I walk past buildings with open doors.  Maybe they do it to compensate for the typically hot, muggy climate in Singapore, but my guess is they’re guilty of some overreaching here.  I can’t imagine what some of those electricity bills look like, and I can’t help but wonder if the Singaporeans are at all interested in reducing their carbon footprint a la the Japanese.  I also saw a lot of random t-shirt/person combos that didn’t quite seem to match; that is, I observed several older, scraggly looking women with t-shirts that didn’t quite match their demeanor.  One particularly miserable-looking woman had a t-shirt on that read “I’m not Irish, but kiss me anyway”.  Another nasty-looking woman had a shirt that read “My dream is to be yours.”  I was also taken aback by the ringtone of another older, drab-looking woman who was an airport employee parked on the gangway leading to the plane.  She couldn’t have looked more boring and uninteresting.  But as I made my way past her, her mobile phone began ringing to the sound of C&C Music Factory’s Everybody Dance Now.  The scene was just as incongruous as it would be if George Will’s ringtone were set to 50 Cent or Eminem.  Just not quite what one expects, but kind of fun since it elicits a nice little giggle.

Filed Under: Misc., Personal

The Beautiful Game

August 31, 2009 By 2 Comments

Most knowledgeable sports fans refer to football (aka soccer) as the beautiful game.  And I agree, though only when referring to proper sports.  When the definition of “game” is extended to the world of the intangible, I think football can, at times, be bested.  For there are few things in this world that compare to the joys of credit card roulette.  Just ask my buddy, Mike, seen here celebrating a roulette victory during a dinner outing a group of us had in Seattle earlier this summer.  Seriously, look at the elation on Mike’s face.  The half-closed eyes, white-knuckled fists, and mouth agape in full-throated victory yell speak to the intensity of the moment.  How often does the average guy get to experience such unmitigated, competitive rapture?

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For those who sadly don’t know, credit card roulette is a game of chance that involves plenty of risk but even more upside.  I’d say the payout – emotional + economic – is truly asymmetric in nature, which I’ll explain in a moment.  The game involves submitting one’s credit card to a pile of other cards after a dinner out with friends.  Once in the pile, your card is shuffled along with those of your friends by a waiter or waitress (who hopefully brings a cheery mood to the occasion).  The cards are shuffled (out of sight, preferably) and then one is chosen at random from the pack to show the group.  The owner of said card is one of the game’s winners, who will be joined by all but one of his comrades in short order.  That’s because the waiter/waitress continues this process until there is one, solitary card remaining.  That last card is the loser of this little game, as the full weight of the night’s bill falls to this unlucky “winner”.  This is not a game where it pays to be the last man standing, to be sure.

This is a wonderful idea for a host of reasons.  First, it gets the competitive juices flowing like nothing else.  Guys have this little thing called testosterone that needs tweaking every now and then, and there’s nothing that gets the blood flowing like a fun, good-natured gamble.  Second, the excitement generated by each card “reveal” is heavenly.  Each player is on the edge of his seat, dying to know if his card will be the next to clear.  The tension is at once excruciating and exhilarating.  I’m tempted to say orgasmic but that might be a little much.  Lastly, there are few gambling games on the planet where you could accurately describe the instance of losing as truly bittersweet.  Sure, that $500 dinner bill is a tough pill to swallow.  But watching your friends celebrate warmly at your expense is a wonderful feeling.  Not only do you get to bask in their happiness but you also get to enjoy the feeling that goes with treating your best friends to a fun night.  Should you win (by not having your card be the last), you get to enjoy a nice, free meal with good friends, celebrate your victory, and soak up the exciting anticipation as the game continues without your card in the pile.  Should you lose the game, your downside is purely economic, and it’s easily overwhelmed by the emotional upside, which makes this trade a truly asymmetric one in my book.  As evidence, just look at that smile on Berto’s face in the background.  You wouldn’t know by looking at this photo, but he was the poor schmuck who lost!  And the fun extends well beyond the night of the event, as people will reminisce for weeks – even years (Abe’s Vegas sushi dinner comes to mind) – after the event, including random emails to or from the loser that simply state the exact amount lost and nothing more.  There’s something about decimal points when referring to amounts lost that make the occasion particularly fulfilling.

As a word of warning, guys playing this game might want to receive spousal consent before participating.  That’s because the (usually) lucky ladies accompanying the fine men involved typically don’t take too kindly to credit card roulette.  It must be something about the whole men are from mars, women are from venus thing.  The sexes simply don’t jive on this account.  I’ve seen several instances where the men damn near foam at the mouth with joy while their lady friends can’t help but think about better uses of the $500 that went towards the party’s dinner.  Naturally, their annoyance is magnified if they are: a) the wife of said player (and thus have a shared bank account); and 2) the fiance of said player (and have a wedding to plan).  Do you realize how many party favors $500 could buy!?  That’s just a responsible disclaimer by this here blogger.  Otherwise, I highly encourage everyone to partake as often as possible.

Filed Under: Misc., Personal

No Country For Old Dogs?

August 27, 2009 By Leave a Comment

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Filed Under: Misc., Movies, Personal

Lizzi’s Santana Sendoff

August 25, 2009 By 4 Comments

From Lizzi

As my summer of fun drew to a close, I sat in United’s Red Carpet Lounge in Los Angeles waiting for my flight back to Tokyo.  The place was packed that fateful Saturday morning and I grabbed one of the only seats I could find, which happened to be next to a familiar-looking man.  I knew he was famous, thought he was maybe a musician or something.  But as most of my friends and family know, I am the WORST at the celebrity spotting game.  As I sat there wondering about my new neighbor, I emailed a friend, “There’s a famous musician next to me, maybe 50-60 yrs old, looks like Santana”.  I let it go and continued my attempt to get organized before the 11 hour flight.

Leaving the states is never easy for me.  I awoke that morning fighting back tears, so it didn’t take long for the floodgates to open when I called my mom for one final goodbye before boarding.  As soon as she heard my voice, she started crying which (of course) made me cry and it was all over from there.  Now, I know, there was nothing to be crying about.  Sure, it’s sad to leave home, but it’s also great to return to my wonderful life in Japan.

Anyway, there I am, the idiot crying in the middle of the lounge, trying desperately to pull myself together, when the famous guy next to me stands up and asks if I’m OK.  I tried to speak the words, “I’m fine, everything is OK, I’m just sad” through my tears.  It probably came out sounding like I had a mouth full of Novocain, but the kind man touched his heart and said, “My heart is with you” before walking over to the lounge bar.

I gathered my thoughts and eventually stopped crying.  After a few moments, I decided to follow his lead with a cocktail before boarding.  What I needed most was some sleep and I knew that a strong whiskey and ginger ale would knock me out before takeoff.  So I walked over and went to the opposite side of the bar from my new friend.  I was pounding my cocktail when he started walking my way and approached me.

“I wanted to give you this.  It’s called, The “Oh Shit” Factor.  It’s a good reminder to stay positive when things get rough.”  I told him I was doing my best to stay positive but I was coming off of a two week run following Phish with college friends and had an incredible time.  I added that I was returning to my wonderful life in Tokyo and I knew how lucky I was, but it was hard to leave home.  We talked all about Japan and how he loves the temples and the beauty of the place.  He told me he was about to get on a flight to go home, back to the San Francisco bay area.  During our brief chat, he placed a strong emphasis on the importance of keeping your heart and thoughts happy…Letting go of the past and looking to the future.  Was this guy a yogi or a musician???

As we wrapped up the conversation, he said, “Can I give you a hug?”  I said, “Of course, my name is Lizzi”.  He shook my hand and said, “Nice to meet you, Lizzi, I’m Carlos” and gave me a big, warm hug.  I had the book in my hands and thanked him for being so kind.  He then returned to his bar seat and I went back to mine, where I opened the book and read what he had written on the inner cover: “Love is the only thing that is real.  Carlos Santana”.

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Carlos Santana had just given me words of wisdom, a book AND a hug!!!  As he packed his things to go catch his flight, he looked at me, bowed his head and touched his heart.  Coolest pre-flight story ever!  It was a truly perfect ending to a perfect summer.

Filed Under: Misc., Personal, Travel

Allow Myself…To Introduce….Myself

March 22, 2008 By

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Say hello to the newest addition to our family. We welcomed the adorable Hurley Sue into our humble abode on Tuesday and it’s been off to the races ever since. Just 5 weeks old, she is a bundle of energy who has managed to liven things up considerably for us around here. She’s got a great personality and might be the cutest thing ever, which makes it all the more difficult to housebreak her. Those pitiful eyes get me every time!

Filed Under: Personal

Get Your Game Face On!

March 7, 2008 By Leave a Comment

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One of my best friends, Mike, recently became a father, making him the first among my closer friends to enter the realm of parenthood. While I have no doubt that he and his wife, Jess, will do extraordinarily well by little Mike (pictured above – note that I call him Wally because his middle name is Walter), I felt compelled to provide the proud new parents with some words of advice. I figured it couldn’t hurt, what with me being the parenting expert and all. Wait, what the? Anyhow, see the note in response to my first peak at the baby photos below:

Well done, Mikey! He’ll be tossing spirals in the backyard in no time. I can tell by the focused look on his face in the second pic that he’s already looking for an open receiver downfield, wondering if maybe he should check off in the flat or go deep with the skinny post. This kid is destined for greatness! You should know that I’m going to fully support his development as an athlete, flying in from Asia for each and every game with a full multimedia apparatus so that Wally and I can break down film afterwards. When’s the earliest he can start competing? Couple of months? So, I have a few words of wisdom to share as you think about the little man’s athletic future, a future that began to take shape the moment he set a new landspeed record when he shot out of Jess, announcing to this world that he means business by not crying when the nurse smacked him on the bum to open up his lungs, but by delivering a sarcastic smirk and a swift judo chop that left everyone in the room stunned. Of course, what happened next is already making the rounds on the Internet as the stuff of legend, an act that solidified his status as the next big thing. I still can’t believe he actually took the scissors from the nurse and cut his own umbilical cord, but it’s hard to argue with the video evidence.

First off, as soon as we enroll him in his first league (maybe this summer), we need to make sure the level of competition is high so that he doesn’t get bored. Maybe we should put him in leagues that are five years or so his senior so he can get used to playing with advanced competition. I’m sure I can find a weight set for little guys somewhere so we can get him going soon. Maybe I’ll get that to celebrate his one month birthday (I know, I’m already slightly late on that one), followed by a personal trainer at the two month mark, an audio version of Sun Tzu’s “Art of War” to mark month three, an audio compilation of Lou Holtz motivational speeches at four months, the soundtrack for Rudy at month five and an enhanced multi-vitamin kit when he turns six months. You think they make HGH for kids? Hey, if it’s good enough for Barry and Stallone, it’s good enough for Wally!

Just wait until you see what I have in store for the one year anniversary of his quest for world domination (what other, weaker kids refer to as their first birthdays). Hint: it involves Steve Clarkson -the personal QB coach of Jimmy Clausen’s formative years – and a grueling six weeks of training that will not be complete until the challenge of hitting a 40-yard corner fade route is met in perfect stride….ten times in a row….with a blind, obese, one-armed receiver….who is triple-teamed….by DB’s all over six feet tall…who have freakishly long arms…and who know exactly what is coming. It’s gonna be awesome!

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Filed Under: Personal

Back in the Saddle

February 24, 2008 By Leave a Comment

Apologies for the delay in updates, but I was out of town for about a week, on a part business/part pleasure trip that took me from Hong Kong to Macau to Singapore. Details on the fun part will be provided later. In the interim, below are a few quick hits that are neither here nor there.

1. I watched Superbad last night. It was just that, super bad. Most of those I know who have seen this strained exercise in mysogny adored the film. I, on the other hand, found it totally lame in almost every respect. Granted, there was room for a chuckle or two, but on the whole this movie basically sucked.

2. This political season has given us plenty of things to celebrate, but one development that sits nicely with me at the moment is watching Hillary Clinton’s presidential campaign spiral towards hopelessness. The infighting, backstabbing and downright brutishness that has characterized her campaign leaves me sad for our current political system, and her recent jab at Obama for plagiarizing provides us with yet another example of her hypocrisy.

3. Speaking of politics, I’m sure you’ve all had time to take in the NY Times’ controversial article on John McCain, which has led to the predictable backlash from conservatives eager to rally around one of their own coming under attack from a bastion of liberal journalism. The article alludes to a sexually improper relationship between McCain and a female lobbyist, as well as improprieties in general between McCain and the lobbyist community at large. Obviously, McCain and his cohorts deny any sexual improprieties, and the Times is taking a lot of heat for making such an irresponsible assertion without any hardcore evidence (I wonder if the Times is goading him into denying it before releasing such evidence). Anyhow, I have a few observations here. First of all, the NY Times loves dishing dirt on the sex lives of politicians, Republican or otherwise. For those who need reminding, just punch in the words “Clinton” and “sex” and see what comes up in the search function for the paper’s archives. Second, the Times is a credible publication, and I give the paper the benefit of the doubt that its editorial staff makes its assertions in a studied and calculated way. Besides, is it such a reach to believe it possible for McCain to cheat on his wife, a habit that, by the way, led to the demise of his first marriage? Finally, sexual innuendo aside, the more substantial arc to the story involved his shady ties to lobbyists, the very scourge of D.C. against which he claims to fight. Shouldn’t a voting America be apprised of such information as it decides how to choose its next leader?

4. Taking a page straight from the Pat Robertson playbook, an Israeli politician recently informed us that homosexuality causes earthquakes. First it was AIDS, now it’s god’s wrath, which of course takes the form of natural disasters (couldn’t god come up with more unique ways to punish us? maybe like intergalactic laser beams or something?). Those poor homosexuals just can’t catch a break!

5. And, finally, here’s a little something to digest, just in case you needed another reason to be thankful that you do not live in Saudi Arabia.

Filed Under: Misc., Personal
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