Looking Back

As I find myself recovering from another form of the flu, the knowledge that being healthy is not something to waste, comes frequently to mind. I can look back at some of the physical things I did this year, and realize how lucky I was to be able to even want to do those things. Right now, it would be risky to walk on the treadmill. I can't wait for the energy to come back, but in the meantime I can reflect.
Life has been interesting for sure. My house is really getting fixed up after years of neglect, and music has been a strong force the whole time. A lot of surfing, mostly due to having young friends that wanted to go all of the time.
2011 will be the year Dusty gets his CD out there, and we'll soon find out whether I'm a pessimist or a realist. I'm predicting a closet full of unsold CD's, but the music sounds awesome and I would just love to be wrong...and it wouldn't be the first time.

What The Flu Is Good For

Man, if you ever needed a reason to quit complaining, a good bout of the flu will do it. I'm finally starting to feel myself again. Do you remember feeling so sick that you didn't even care about what you were missing? It didn't matter if it was the prettiest day of the year, all I could think of is, what if you never got better? What if the rest of my life was feeling that bad?
I'm starting to feel cheerful now, still coughing enough to make most folks show the sign of the cross and move farther away, and still trying to recall how I could jump up every morning and run 5 miles. Trying to think about how I don't have enough stuff, enough money, the best job, all of those things that just seem to be one big WANT.

Yup, the next time I wake up feeling like a good 5 mile run, I'm going to remember that THAT is the thing I really wanted...

The Reminder

Sometimes the stories are for me, a reminder when I need it...
I stood on the balcony of a hotel on a nice summer day, late in the afternoon. The sun was casting a copper tint to the ocean and the wind was on the surf, leaving little but mushy shorebreak. I was a little sunburnt and had seen better conditions earlier in the day. It wasn't really even worth the trip down the stairs to surf in that crap. It was then I spotted something unusual, and saw other people on balconies around me looking in the same direction. There was this young boy ripping up the shore break, flying up and down the break. It looked as if there were no waves, but his rides were longer than what I got on really good waves. I shook my head in disbelief, and my neighbor on the next balcony said, that's Kelly Slater, he's out there every afternoon.
Kelly, oh yeah, he's the one that grew up to win more world surfing titles than anyone else. He's going for number 10 now, just in case I need the reminder....the surf is good enough for me.

What a Day

Wow, the weather this weekend was like something from a travel brochure. On top of that, we had waves that were not too big or too small and Dan and I got plenty of them. My Munoz board was back from ding-repair and made me remember why I need to really take care of it. I surfed until I could barely lift my arms and left for home, knowing that it could not get any better than that.
Sunday, I did chores and shopping, while my poor wife is trying to get over some kind of stomach flu. She lay there reading, and I could not stop smiling while working like crazy. Mowed the lawn without breaking a sweat, and I just did not want it to end. Was out in the yard until dark and still wasn't tired...what a difference temperature and humidity can make in my outlook.
The good news is that we have a week of this coming up!

The Pie On The Side Of The Road

It’s hard to imagine right now, sitting here at home, that only a few months ago, I would have given anything for a good, sweet pastry. There is something about going on vacation that sends our normal dietary habits away and sets free the spirit that wants all of the really good stuff that you usually tend to avoid.
Bakeries come to mind as the kind of place that I don’t spend much time in, but once on this vacation, that was the first place I was looking for in a new town. We landed in Portland, Maine and it wasn’t long before we found Two Fat Cats, an un-air-conditioned little old house in the shopping district of Old Port. Four very sweaty women were hard at work making dough and pastries and there was little doubt that what was for sale was made right there on the premises. I was already drooling before our turn at the counter came up, but I let the Missus do the talking because this place had the distinct appearance of a place that was by women, for women, and frequented by women. She got up to the counter, asking about freshness and instead of being insulted, the young woman offered samples. We bought way too much and a good portion of that never made it back to the car, but the one thing everyone wanted us to like was Woopee Pies. They never caught on with us and we could only hope that the guy that cleaned the rental car after we returned it, would appreciate our Woopee Pie tip.
The bar for bakery taste in New England was raised quite high by a chance stop on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. We were cruising down a steep hill, returning from an afternoon of testing the limits of our GPS, when the Missus spotted a small wooden stand on the side of the road with pies sitting on it. That and a small lockbox was all that was in sight. We saw a house a little ways away from the road, and thought we needed to stop. A cute young woman was carrying a pie up the driveway from the house and we decided that we had to have a couple of those pies. It turned out that the young woman and her husband were baking pies and running the business for her mother. Little did I know at the time that I was in for some of the best dessert I would have for a very long time...all because of a chance stop in the middle of Nowhere, Maine..

What Really Happened That Day

I sat there on my surfboard, gasping and feeling my heart race. The water was warm and a beautiful clear light green and off in the distance I could see the other surfers riding on the small glassy waves that morning. Suddenly, I could see the headlines in the local news; Surfer found dead, laying face-down in the water, still attached to his board with the leash. People would speculate about surfing alone, above your ability, or more generally about the idea that when your time is up, your time is up. They would scour my medical records for some history of heart disease, and many more would shake their heads, saying that he died doing what he loved best, but none of them would know what really happened.
I was really happy that morning, the waves were fun, the weather was perfect and we were surrounded by dolphins. In fact, I was seeing more at one time than I would usually see in a whole day. They ignored us and were going about their day fishing and jumping for fun it seemed like. Then a really young kid with a shock of bleach-blonde hair and a longboard big enough for a large man, yelled out to me, and all I hear was "....tea!" I was thinking the kid couldn't tell the difference between a dolphin and a shark and then I looked down into the water. Right below the surface a huge head was looking straight up at me, mere inches from my board. The body was huge and dark, and before my brain had a chance to process a single thought, my heart and lungs went into panic mode. It only lasted a few seconds until the word "Manatee" processed and I put my hand out to say hello, but the look right before that must have scared the manatee off, because he left much faster than I thought a manatee could swim...

The Long Weekend

Four hours getting there and it took all four of those hours for Pam and I to get rid of the workplace. Once we settled into the apartment overlooking Charlotte Harbor, the peace of Bokeelia came back. we kayaked, fished, read, and we went to fun places to eat. It wasn't long before I started imagining a life that was always like this, but before I knew it, we were on our way back home. The drive was unexpectedly easy, but the stress hit Pam almost the minute we walked in the front door. Twenty-four hours ago she was laughing as she reeled in her third mackerel, while I was trying to figure out how to catch just one, and now it's like we need another vacation.
I'm going to have to teach her how to keep that happy place in her head....

Better Than It Has To Be

Strange days have passed through me recently. Hurricane surfing with my crew and me riding head-high waves on my 10'6" Munoz. I would not have thought that possible a few years ago. Then I'm up on stage on a riser at the front at Northland, with stage nerves like I was a kid. My keys sounded great through my in-ear monitors, but that kind of setup was so stange I had trouble focusing. My son had to show me video of me being projected up on a big screen...glad I did not see that while I was playing!
The doctors and nurses signed off on me as good to go and kept complementing on my fitness. Time to quit worrying and start living I imagine. The good thing about this is that it made me stop and think about what is important, and I called my daughter and invited her on a trip with me to kayak south Florida.
I was thinking about what regrets I would have if I suddenly had to check out and then realized it was nothing but family.....

The Bommy Knocker (pt 2 of the Israli Who Would Not Lie)

I was lying in bed, unable to sleep, hearing creaks and the noise of the wind blowing. I kept telling myself that all that mattered was making sure that Pam escaped, no matter what happened to me. I was also wondering if he had already dispensed with Susan and Irvin and was making his way to our room. I put suitcases in front of the doors and was thinking that I might be strong enough to yank a part of the sink loose and use it for a weapon. It turned out that Pam was awake as well and it was then she suggested that I get the Bommy Knocker.
The Bommy Knocker was nothing more than a decent-sized rock, but it’s name does demand some sort of explanation: Pam is a kindergarten teacher and there is a children’s book that has a story about a giant that chases little children around with a weapon called a Bommy Knocker. Pam has had a small passion for collecting rocks from everywhere we travel and putting them in our rock garden at home. The trip had been great for rock collecting and she had gathered almost fifty pounds of rocks it seemed. One was large and fit into a fist of a hand. She dubbed it the Bommy Knocker and said that it would make an excellent weapon. The only problem now was that it was in the car and that was two flights of stairs away, and who knew where the caretaker was right now. I got up against my will and went as quietly as I could down the stairs in the dark, foggy night. I didn’t see any looming shadows and got into the back of the car and fumbled under the seat for the rock Pam wanted. There were so many and half of my attention was diverted to listening for the sound of footsteps and a voice saying “I won’t lie to you….”
There…I found the largest rock, backed up and closed the door as quietly as I could. I crept up the stairs, a few creaking noises, but nothing more and got back into the room unscathed. Pam was sitting up, staring at my hand with the rock. “That is NOT the Bommy Knocker!” she said, “Go back and get the right one.”

Things Get Very Interesting

In some truly Zen fashion, I'm am being taught another lesson. Or, the same one for the 100th time. Just as I feel that some things at work are just too much to take, other things happen in my life that derail the energy I wanted to put into anger and resentment.
One, out of the blue, I'm asked by a friend to fill in for his keyboard player for a gig at Northland Church, doing a kind of gig, I've never done ever. Playing music I've barely listened to. I'm practicing my butt off, listening to these songs around the clock and am determined to do my best. The band is happy and even have remarked that I'm doing more with the music than they normally expect. So what's the big deal? Northland is a megachurch with a band that is top notch. The first time I witnessed them, I remarked that I definitely belonged in the audience and not on stage with guys like that. Yet here I will be tonight, up on that stage...wasn't even on my bucket list!
Yes, bucket list, because while all of this is going on, my doctor is having me tested, telling me "don't worry" while I hear stuff to worry about and my brain starts playing, "What would you do if you only had 6 months to live?" Would I drop out and surf Hawaii until I can't get out of bed, or would I work until they carried me away in a stretcher?
I sure hope I pick the surf in Hawaii option....

I Still Have a Pulse

Here I am, almost a week later, still fired up. The only thing that would disappoint me now would be if I sat back and decided it's not worth the effort. I've heard friends say that you need to choose your battles, and what they need to know is that this is the one I've chosen. This is not some keen observation, merely the old "Are you a man or a mouse?"
The really strange thing is that I cannot see the future. Perhaps that is good because right now I have to believe that I can make a permanent change....and that is a tough belief to hold.

This Will Be Interesting

This is a bookmark..today should be the beginning of a pretty fundamental change for me. I've been on the bench since 2003 and now somebody with a short memory has called me lazy. today, he will be witnessing my A game.
Perhaps he will go down in my history books as yet one more negative coach, the ones that instead of shouting encouragement, shout "pussy!"
We'll see.....

Finding a high spot

A high point of our summer road trip was the Fundy National Park in New Brunswick. Lots of people with campers,bikes and hiking gear. We were not doing any of that, but I'd love to come back again and really dive into this park instead of driving through it. The people are friendly and in fact, the biggest difference between there and the states is the friendliness of the people. There seems to be a lot of old guys with big camper trailers. One other surprise, the old guys must love old American muscle cars, they are everywhere and get lots of attention. Has Canada been settled by retired autoworkers?

Getting Directions

Bah...I've got a cold, no voice, but I can enjoy this trip regardless. I love the people of this region, everyone has been very nice and welcoming. I think that I'm so far away that none of these folks will have met a Florida person before, when I find out last night the lady working the counter at our hotel is from Clermont! How do you end up in Sussex, New Brunswick from Clermont?
One of the things that really has me smiling is getting directions. Everyone is helpful, but the directions sound like something from a joke. I'm in a relatively rural place and nobody ever knows street names. It goes something like this: go to the bridge and make a 'shop' left, a 'shop' left mind you, and then follow that road for a ways and look for a little pull off on the left. Or: Take hwy 1 to the flashing light, go behind the Chevy dealership and make a 'shop' right at the railroad tracks....I'm usually laughing before they finish the directions because my brain is unable to hold all of the details. We finally found our hotel last night after asking directions twice...the dang gps is useless and my phone has no data, so we are really doing this trip old school with paper maps and asking locals for help. It did help us find the secret 'Jasper Beach', which was a find that many Maine people probably never get to see!

Damn the allergies, full speed ahead!

Well, it's feeling more like a cold, but Pam got it almost exactly when I did. I overdid it biking one morning and feel like this is the payment for it. It's not keeping me from enjoying this trip though. Everyone is nice, the traffic is easy and the scenery is constantly changing. I still can't get over how, like the northwest, I'm finding really cool people in very rural places. I'm used to thinking rural equals redneck hicks, but that is not the case here. I can only believe that the people that are here are here by choice, escaping the big cities, not stuck in small town poverty. This moment, I'm in a little 12 room hotel on the side of the road, with giant windows overlooking the water. 50 steps away is a really good old diner, where I had the best ever "Haddock burger" last night. Besides the cold/allergies, the only problem on this trip is too much good food. While standing in the diner last night I heard a reference to bikers coming from all around to get their strawberry pie, so after ordering a piece of that, I found that there is a really cool trail, right next to the hotel...I'm leaving to go explore that now....

I'm Wide Open

Usually, I have a plan, but not this time. I've learned from past experience that some of the best things that happen are not things I have planned at all.
Here I am, it's 8am and I have no idea at all of what I'm doing today, tomorrow, or for the next 2 weeks. It actually feels pretty good and I'm not too worried about all that time getting wasted. If nothing else, there will time for reflection and sunsets, and suddenly a plan springs to mind...a photo of sunrise tomorrow morning!

The Relic

I'm really getting into this new music we're working on, and I keep seeing images in my mind of me playing an old B-3 in the fantasy shows. I kept trying to find parallels in the south and southern old revival churches. There is something about this music that wants old gear and sweat.
I finally traveled to the place where they restore these old Hammond organs and once I took in all of these old beasts in varying stages of restoration, I knew it was true: This is what the music wants. I dreamed about it and am still trying to figure out how it would ever be worth all of the trouble.
I can think of a similar story in John Mellancamp, who has made a career of writing and performing songs about growing up and old in the midwest, living in small towns and farms. I've never had any part of that, but his music makes me understand it for a moment. Even though he was once referred to as the "poor man's Bruce Springsteen", he has kept true to his original design: the music is organic. Yes, there were old organs, violins, accordians, and I appreciated all of it.
I'm hoping we can bring that same recognition to the vanishing life of Florida, as the concrete pushes nature back until the animals have to make a living in parking lots. I'm also sure hoping that I can bring one of the old Hammonds to the experience...

The Sucker Punch

You're just walking along, happy with life in general, and it's always worse when it's like that. Things are good and the world seems to be singing, but then the interruption comes and it's something nasty out of the clear blue sky. A loved one, or a stranger, just starts with angry stuff that seems to be for no reason. You know the problem is inside them, and not with you, but that doesn't help. Your good vibe is gone and has been replaced with the feeling that you somehow deserved this by being happy for a moment.
Perhaps the solution is to grow a thick skin like we believe New Yorkers to have, where any encounter at all could be gruff. I don't know, to walk through life looking for trouble doesn't sound like what I want. However, I am exercising my mental abs in preparation for the next sucker punch...

Finding It

I'm glad to really have this opportunity. There have been times here and there when I would listen to music I have recorded with different people throughout my life and I would often return to a group from my 20's where the music seemed to have something. I did a lot of music since then, but it seemed more like I was working hard to make it good enough, but could not reach the goal. I was getting closer and closer, but the image of an old black man with a beat-up guitar on a street corner, playing something true, kept popping up in my mind. Was it that I really had nothing to say? Was it that no matter how much I polished the recorded tracks, I would find the music lacking? Why is it that the image of the old man, broken and worn out, stuck in my mind? The music just poured from him, and the notes were right, even when they weren't in tune.
Then I just plain got lucky. I assembled a group of friends and my son and requested that we just try to play some songs they made up. Instantly, the songs were not much like the original ideas, but something special that was created in the room by this bunch of guys. The music poured out effortlessly, just like my fantasy of the old black man. It dawned on me then, that art is not work, it is something that wants to escape and that is what is happening now...

The Campfire

We are having a real experience here, with some of the coldest weather in my memory. Today, I could go surfing early, but the ocean temperature is still in the 50's and the last trip, I sat in the water shivering in my full wetsuit with gloves, booties, and hood! The only good part is that the cold really thins out the crowd, and the next few days we expect some very good waves.
The cold reminds me of last year and our camping trip at Blue Springs, where we found ourselves standing close to a small campfire, trying to stay warm in 20 degree weather. Your front and hands stayed warm, but anything facing away from the fire got the chill. The thought of leaving the fire and trying to sleep in the tent was not enticing.
This comes to mind now as our family and friends draw together in some of the worst times that anyone can remember. In spite of some good indicators showing the economy is improving, people are losing jobs and homes. Prices are still high and everybody is pretty much hanging on, hoping to get through this. What is on the increase is desperate behavior. More robberies, more backstabbing at work, and more repair guys that take your money and run.
What does put a smile on my face is that we still have the fire burning here and having my family around it with us.

It's All Fun And Games Until...

We got the news yesterday and this morning it was plastered on the front page of the newspaper: South Florida Kiteboarder killed by pack of sharks. Only now, they're saying it was a lone shark acting independently and the other sharks were hanging around after. A lifeguard spotted the guy in trouble and paddled out and brought him back in, but the guy died before they could get him to the hospital.
I suppose that will be the end of the story, but I can't help but think about the balls that lifeguard must have. To paddle out into a pack of sharks on your surfboard and try to drag a bloody person back to shore? Maybe the man did not survive, but that doesn't change what it took to go out there and help. I'm trying to imagine standing on the shore, seeing the guy yelling for help and noticing the fins circling him and going out there anyway. I hope there are a lot more lifeguards like that guy!

A Walk On The Dock

I was on short vacation, a 5th honeymoon of sorts, and found myself alone on the beach at dawn. My wife is a late sleeper, so mornings are always solitary events for me. The day was starting out cold, with a brisk wind blowing, but I really wanted to get out on the water to watch the sunrise. For some strange reason, the cold in that part of the country seems to also make the water the most beautiful blue that you could imagine. It was perfectly clear, like light blue glass and I could see the tiny baitfish everywhere. I walked out onto this long dock that belonged to our beach apartment, hoping to see some of the larger fish that can be found hiding in the shade under the dock, but they were too well hidden for my eyes that morning. I stood for a while, until the cold started to find ways under my sweatshirt and decided to head back in to refresh the cup of coffee I had been carrying along.
It was then that I spotted something unusual. Two dolphins were swimming along the shore, in very shallow water, too shallow I thought, swimming straight with their dorsal fins splitting the water very much like the shark scenes in the movie Jaws. I was already wondering how a dolphin could swim in what appeared to be two feet of water, when they reached the dock and giant splashing ensued. The first dolphin popped his head up with a big old snook in his mouth. He then swam off and the second dolphin came up with a smaller sheepshead. I watched them swim off into the distance, checking out each dock on the way down the shore.
I thought, man, these guys own this place....

Frozen New Year

We are ringing in the new year with the longest spell of really cold weather that I can remember. It jumped up to 60 degrees today for a few hours and I was ready to whoop it up. They are even saying there is a chance of snow tomorrow. In Florida? Perhaps this is all just to give us a taste of what folks up north have to endure. It sucks to think that it will be too cold to go outside this weekend, but at least my car will start and the roads will be easy to navigate.
I've busted out the treadmill and have given into the idea that many hours will be spent on it before I can get back to running the streets. Maybe this is a really good time to catch up on all those rainyday projects I have saved up.
2010 may be a really interesting year. One thing for sure, it is not starting out ordinary!