So Long, Andy and Mo

Baseball has a long season. It starts with the opening of Spring Training in late February, and usually ends at the beginning of November. Even for the worst teams, even if it's short-lived, there's a strange sense of hope that "this could be the season."  Baseball is a lot like life. It's a long, hard grind, one hundred and sixty-two games, five or six games a week. Who starts the season in first place doesn't necessarily end up there in October. There are many variables for a team's success. Talent is important, but in the end, it's often the team with the most talent, fewest injuries, and some luck that succeeds.

For Yankee fans, 2013 was the realization the glory days were coming to an end. In thirteen years, they won five World Series. The other years, they usually made it to the post season. A large part of that success was do to "The Core Four," Derek Jeter, Jorge Posada, Andy Petite, and Mariano "Mo" Rivera. In 2011 Posada retired. At the end of 2012, Rivera announced 2013 would be his last season. Due to injury, Jeter spent most of 2013 on the bench. And less than two weeks ago, Petite said this would be his last hurrah.

From April until June, the Yankees were in first place. Knowing that it would be Mo's last season, most fans thought, one more for Mo. It would be the perfect Hollywood ending. But a couple of weeks before Summer officially arrived, they fell out of first. For the rest of the season, they remained close to a Wild Card spot. There was still hope. Besides, the second half of the season was "Say Good-Bye to Mo Time."

For every road series in which the Yankee's played their last game, that team presented Mo with fare-well presents and wishes. It was touching and lots of fun. By late August, one knew the clock was ticking, but there was still more baseball to play, and still the hope that the Yankees could win one more for Mo.

Then September came. Andy Petite announced his retirement. It added to the sadness of Mo retiring. Andy and Mo were part of the Core Four. After 2013, only Jeter would remain. It was imperative that the Yankees make the post season.

Last week, through their loses and other team victories, the Yankees were eliminated from a Wild Card berth. The time had come for Yankee fans to face reality - an era had ended.

Last night I watched Andy Petite gain the final victory of his career. It was a 2-1 win over the Houston Astros, and a complete game - his first since 2006. He is the all-time Yankees strike-out leader and tied for first in career starts with Whitey Ford. He is also a five time World Series champ. Will he make it to the Hall of Fame? That is yet to be determined.

Mo Rivera is the greatest relief pitcher in Major League history with 652 regular season saves and 42 in the  post season. Last Sunday on t.v. I watched him say good-bye to thousands of fans at Yankee Stadium. Last Thursday on t.v., I watched Andy Petite and Derek Jeter walk to the mound to take him out of the game. Endings are a part of life. They are not easy to face, but we all face them. There's a lot that could be said about endings, and this ending, in particular. Derek Jeter said it best. When he approached Mo on the mound, he smiled, and simply said, "It's time to go."

Where Have All the Good Times Gone?

Most holidays give me the Willies. They seem forced, canned, and stifling. I like the day off, but I loathe the day. It reminds me of being part of the herd. It is the time to low, chew cud, and not be milked, branded, or herded. It is respite, but not true relief.

Yesterday, was Labor Day, and I had no expectations. I woke up in a humid steam bath. Instead of praising and reveling in this season, I cursed it, and took a shower. I took Pepito for a walk, but walking was such an effort. I daydreamed I was an terrestrial creature that decided the land was no place for me. I ambled to the shore, and walked into the ocean. I turned into a whale, and was finally happy. That was a pleasant thought for a few moments, then I woke up to reality, sweating and miserable. I drove home.

Arriving home, I was told that my ex-brother-in-law (we're still close) and his family would be coming over for the afternoon. It seemed like a good idea. It would be a chance to grill, which I love doing, and maybe, it would get my mind off the stickiness.

I set myself to the task of gathering Egg Plants, Green Beans, Cayennes, Cow Horns from the garden. I washed, cut them up, and seasoned them, then put them aside. Sweat was trickling down my face like little rivulets of prayerful angst in a sacred grotto. I went outside to light the fire. Being so humid, it took me three attempts before I was able to start up the coals. By the time the guests arrived, the food was cooking away, and I was quite satisfied in spite of being soaked like a much used sponge.

We had a grand time. We ate, recalled old times, talked of the present, mused about future, and we laughed a lot. It made me remember Labor Day's gone by when the family used to gather like it was breathing. These days, we don't mark the holidays with such vigor. They come, they go, and we say, "I can't believe it's already September." As the Kinks once said, "Where have all the good times gone?"

Yesterday, I found the good times again. They came in the form of people gathering to eat and share. They made me forget the humidity, and reminded me that, people are important. Yes, I am a member of "the Herd." I often loathe that name, but that's who I am to some extent, and from time to time, we all need to gather and to celebrate. It's not only delightful, but very essential.

The Last Day of August

Normally, this is the season of nostalgia for me. It's a time of looking back, and remembering the warm, contemplative season of fun. It is back to school time. It is Labor Day time - the last hurrah of events and picnics. Weather-wise, things are changing. The Dog Days of heat and humid give way to less humidity and cooler nights. There is a definite feeling of change in the air, but not this year.

Like the last three or four days, today is not necessarily hot, but very humid. The air is thick and heavy with moisture. It is swampy, weighty, and when I walk, or even sit, I feel burdened. The discomforting air leads to discomforting thoughts. I think of my life, and the things that aren't clicking in it. Just when I think things are taking off, they crash, and I'm back to square one. I know I have much to offer, and things will change, but sitting in this humidity, I'm stifled by heavy thoughts.

I need a cool breeze, but for some reason, it is not blowing. I guess that's life - some good, some bad, some hot, some cold, but nothing ever stays the same, and if you just sit and wait for things to change, nothing will. On that note, I will get my ass out of this chair, go over to the window, open it, and wait for that cool breeze that I know is coming. It will come.

Colonel Kurtz must have worked in Software Development

The contract ended a couple of weeks ago. It was positive turnout, but there was no more work, and I found myself without a paycheck. That stressed me. Besides, what is my future in Software Development? Do I really want to continue in this field?

Yesterday, I drove to a local barbeque joint, applied, and was hired on the spot. I start a week from Tuesday, and I must say, it made me feel good. I will do it all - cook, clean, wait on customers, and I may even help the owner with his web site. The pay is far less than I'm used to, but I look forward to doing something different - something in the food service industry where personality does count. In Software Development it's all about the task. You can be the most dynamic person in the world, but if you aren't a nose down coder, it doesn't work. If you don't think like they do, they don't know what to do. They won't tell you because they can't - because they just don't know how to express themselves. Frankly, I'm sick of inexpressive, blase people.

I've forgotten what it's like to work at a job where a good line gets praise; where they actually appreciate a good joke, or say , he's good for morale, or dang, he's a nice guy. In Software, none of that matters. It's all about the code. The Code... The Code.... The Horror.... The Horror...

You Cannot Pick Your Relatives.

Two years ago, when she came out to Seattle for a visit, she stayed the week, and we had lots of fun. We went out to dinner, made dinner at home with my ex, went for walks, went out for karaoke, and had some very nice talks. After she left, I said, wow, it seems like it's the start of  a better and  a closer relationship.  I was pleased beyond compare.

Several days after she left, I called her on my cell, and left a message. Days passed but the message was not returned. People get busy, and forget about left messages - that must have been it, I thought. After several more days, I tried again, and the result was the same. It might have been a week later that I finally received a call from her. Nothing was said about not returning the calls, so I left it at that.

During the next few months, the patterned continued. I was confused. Didn't we have a great visit? Why the avoidance, why the silence? Was there something I was missing? Knowing how fragile our relationship had been in the past, I didn't want to push limits, so I held my questions.

After a couple of more calls and emails, I finally came to the conclusion that she wasn't interested in having a relationship. I was hurt, disappointed, and angry. I tried to be open-minded, realizing that part of the reason for the break-down was me - for what I did or didn't do in the past. That said, I also realized, that during the past few years, there had been no incidents between us. Things seemed friendlier, better. I easily recognized my misdoings in the past. What about her - could she forgive and see her part or lack of it? In the light of things beening benign between us in recent times, why act friendly in person, then disappear into silence?

Since moving to Connecticut, I've seen her on several occasions. On her visits, she can be quite friendly, but when she's back home, I never hear from her. At first, I called her, even talked to her. All seemed well, but then I realized that she and someone else in this house call each other practically everyday. Does she ever say, 'Hey, how's he doing' or 'Pass him the phone, I'd like to say hello?' Never.

Last time she visited, she greeted my with a big smile. "Hey, give me a hug," she said. I did, but it didn't feel quite right. During the visit, we talked a bit, but didn't hang out. I really didn't feel like reaching out. I didn't make any motions to do things with her, and neither did she with me. We spent a week together in what I'd call "Friendly Indifference." I remember little else about her visit, except for two comments. One happened when we were talking about the garden, which at time, was coming into its own, and was growing by leaps and bounds, producing a variety of vegetables. I must say, it looked fantastic. The only part of the garden that was lacking was a little patch of Basil, which I'd planted as an after-thought, and was being overwhelmed by Beetles. Of course, that's what she noticed, and said with a smirk, "How come the Basil's not doing well?" I said nothing.

The other comment, I let pass, too. We were sitting around the dinner table in the presence of friends. Dinner was been finished, and we were conversing over coffee. I don't know how we came to the subject, but family came up. In a flash, she turned to me, and said, "We can't pick them, can we, Monkey?" It took me by surprise. It wasn't until later that I wondered if it was a coincidence, or was it meant as a dig in the protection of company? In past times, I might have challenged her, and been drawn into an argument. I used to react badly, and say some awful things. I became labelled a hot head, and an angry guy. But those days are over. I said nothing in response because, what can you say, really? You certainly cannot pick your relatives. And by the way, Relative, the Basil has rebounded, and is doing fantastic.

How did they do it a long time ago?

I don't remember it being so humid and hot in a long time. That's probably because I lived in Seattle for the last six years, and over there, you experience only dry heat. Heat is one thing, but couple it with humidity, and you've got a real struggle on your hands.

Last week after work, while walking up the steep hill to the parking lot where my car was, I became very aware of every breath I took. The sun and the humidity made it feel like I was carrying a fifty pound rucksack on my back. At the very top, I had to double over to catch my breath. There was another thirty yards to my car, but the walk felt like a mile.

Over the next few days, I had many similar experiences. Funny thing was, there were even times when I was resting that I suddenly felt very drained and very drowsy, as if I could just close my eyes and go to sleep right there. I suppose that's an effect of humidity. It drains one even at rest.

In all this time, I did not use an air conditioner. I could have, but I didn't. At night, the air cooled down enough so that a box fan in the window blew in enough comfort to merit a good night of sleep. That was during the first few days, but the heat and humidity didn't abate. I actually think it got worse.

One night, I slept at my girlfriend's, in an air conditioned room, and noticed the difference between the air in that room, and how Hellish it was outside. Immediately, I thought of the times before air conditioning. How did they live and sleep without it? I suppose there's all kinds of tricks one can employ when one has to, but, right now, it's too hot and humid to ruminate too much. Instead, I'll take it on faith that life sucked without air conditioning. That was then, and this is now. I will simply retire to my room and with one turn of a knob be cooled to Arctic delight.

Long Weekend Half-Way Over

Yesterday, I spent a fair part of the day trying to figure out what I was going to do. I'd get up to do something, then, after five minutes of ruminating, I'd sit down for another half hour, and start the process all over again. It was so hot and humid so getting into tape loop way of thinking was very easy to do. Normally, I don't mind the echoing. After all, much of life is repetitive. Computers are like that. They do the same things over and over again, and no one complains. I guess that's the nature of a machine.

I like to think of myself as creative and free-thinking, not a slave to habit, or compulsion, and that's probably what troubled me when I was unable to decide what I wanted to do yesterday. Besides, weekends pass so quickly. I didn't want to find myself late on Sunday afternoon saying, why didn't I do anything all weekend?

Today is different.  I went with the flow. I woke up late, and turned my back on expectations. Pepito and I took a drive. I bought a cup of coffee, then we went to a local wooded lake area for a walk. It was so cool and tranquil, and we so much enjoyed the scenery and seeing other people and their dogs walking that I forgot about what we were supposed to do. I just enjoyed the moment. Yes, I was in the moment as they say when you're an Actor. I was just an actor playing out my scene in life, and could have cared less about anything else at that time. Now that's living. And to be honest, if that's the only thing of consequence I do for the rest of the weekend, then I've done something grand. Amen.