Short post today, extolling the virtues of a good friend and a good man who has had a hell of an idea.
My friend Matt Hurley recently retired from Verizon after something like 27 years with the company. As opposed to immediately going out looking for another job (Matt's not yet 50), and getting right back into the rat race, he took a different tack; he and his wife are spending 2010 traveling the country volunteering their time and skills to anyone who can use a hand, from a senior citizen with a leaky roof, to a farmer who needs to get hay in the barn before it rains, to someone in the Carolinas who could use some help moving.
He's created a website, http://www.whospepehelpingnow.com/, to document his travels and to gather ideas for helping opportunities. He asks for no monetary support; in fact, his website specifically mentions that he does NOT want anyone's money. What he asks is that those who desire to contribute, do so to a charity of their choice, and he does offer some suggestions as to worthy (and certified) charitable organizations.
This guy is taking a year of his life to not only talk the talk, but he's backing it up with his actions. He has a pretty broad history of volunteering, and I urge everyone to support Matt by visiting his website.
Until next time, Excelsior!
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
On 50, The Holidays, Loss, and other Musings
This might be a curiously long post, but it's admittedly been a while since your intrepid scribe has come to these pages...
First things first. We are now fifty years old.
I have to pause; it's the first time I've written that. Good Lord; considering what my twenties (and part of thirties) were like, whodathunkit?
I have to admit, not only is making fifty decidedly better than the alternative, it is kind of cool; there is a sense somehow of gravitas that comes with a certain age, although in my case it may more be a case of comfort in one's own skin, rather than some divine investing of wisdom. I still do fairly stupid things, but I seem to recognize them more rapidly.
There are the normal physical foibles; aches & pains that take longer to recover from, more hair in the sink than on the head, that sort of thing.
Then there is loss. You know you're getting older when you start recognizing far more names in the obits than in the weddings section of the paper. You also start re-evaluating your own reaction to mortality. While loss can still certainly shock, especially when it comes completely out of the blue, or, God forbid, occurs to a child, you do get somewhat philosophical about the whole thing, or so it seems.
My own Dad died when I was 24; I'm rapidly approaching the age he was when he died. It's funny; the immediate effect of his passing didn't hit me for months after the fact. At the time, I guess my reaction as the oldest child in the family was to sublimate my own emotions in favor of being there for others, and boy, did I bury 'em deep. Only problem was, when they came out, it was spectacular.
Lesson learned; we try to deal with these things more in the moment now. There are, of course, still times when loss makes you question the Almighty, and one of those times was one year and three days ago, when my good friend Tom Devane passed away unexpectedly, at age 46.
Schlom was a trip and a half; as convivial a gent as you'll ever meet, and a guy who never had an unkind word for anyone. Great in a kitchen, at a party, and as a friend. A confirmed bachelor, he sadly was home alone when he died, and it was left to his best friend to find him, when he did not respond to phone calls for a full day from a number of us. He was supposed to come to our home for New Year's Day dinner, but when he didn't respond to repeated calls even the next day, we decided to go check on him. Chris got to him first, and I moments later, and it was incumbent upon us to spread the sad news that the Big Kid was gone.
It was kind of surreal, a real "Big Chill" kind of moment, without the suicide angle. Everything is consumed by the immediate; get the kids staying somewhere else, arrange for our local restaurant to do some catering, and get close friends to our home for commiseration, and large cocktails.
Then, a funny thing happened.
While we were all obviously in deep grief over the loss of our great friend, rather than spending the time crying in our beer, we started trading Schlom stories, and the longer it went on, the more hilarious it got. What's more, it struck us all that the Big Kid would have had it no other way.
The days were a blur; phone calls, the wake, the funeral and interment. Through it all, I was beset by the notion that we all go sometime, and we must make the most of the day we have in front of us. Tommy lived that way, in good times and bad, and if that's his legacy, then there are worse things to leave behind.
Enough; on to happier thoughts.
The holidays are now officially behind us, and a new decade has dawned. Thank Christ. No more purchasing, hiding, wrapping, opening, and destroying of gifts; no more running from pillar to post to meet this or that family/friend/holiday obligation. Don't get me wrong; the holidays are among my favorite time of the year, but with them past, we can now safely address this most important of matters:
Six weeks until pitchers & catchers.
Next time, less morbid, and back to voice acting.
Until then, Excelsior!
First things first. We are now fifty years old.
I have to pause; it's the first time I've written that. Good Lord; considering what my twenties (and part of thirties) were like, whodathunkit?
I have to admit, not only is making fifty decidedly better than the alternative, it is kind of cool; there is a sense somehow of gravitas that comes with a certain age, although in my case it may more be a case of comfort in one's own skin, rather than some divine investing of wisdom. I still do fairly stupid things, but I seem to recognize them more rapidly.
There are the normal physical foibles; aches & pains that take longer to recover from, more hair in the sink than on the head, that sort of thing.
Then there is loss. You know you're getting older when you start recognizing far more names in the obits than in the weddings section of the paper. You also start re-evaluating your own reaction to mortality. While loss can still certainly shock, especially when it comes completely out of the blue, or, God forbid, occurs to a child, you do get somewhat philosophical about the whole thing, or so it seems.
My own Dad died when I was 24; I'm rapidly approaching the age he was when he died. It's funny; the immediate effect of his passing didn't hit me for months after the fact. At the time, I guess my reaction as the oldest child in the family was to sublimate my own emotions in favor of being there for others, and boy, did I bury 'em deep. Only problem was, when they came out, it was spectacular.
Lesson learned; we try to deal with these things more in the moment now. There are, of course, still times when loss makes you question the Almighty, and one of those times was one year and three days ago, when my good friend Tom Devane passed away unexpectedly, at age 46.
Schlom was a trip and a half; as convivial a gent as you'll ever meet, and a guy who never had an unkind word for anyone. Great in a kitchen, at a party, and as a friend. A confirmed bachelor, he sadly was home alone when he died, and it was left to his best friend to find him, when he did not respond to phone calls for a full day from a number of us. He was supposed to come to our home for New Year's Day dinner, but when he didn't respond to repeated calls even the next day, we decided to go check on him. Chris got to him first, and I moments later, and it was incumbent upon us to spread the sad news that the Big Kid was gone.
It was kind of surreal, a real "Big Chill" kind of moment, without the suicide angle. Everything is consumed by the immediate; get the kids staying somewhere else, arrange for our local restaurant to do some catering, and get close friends to our home for commiseration, and large cocktails.
Then, a funny thing happened.
While we were all obviously in deep grief over the loss of our great friend, rather than spending the time crying in our beer, we started trading Schlom stories, and the longer it went on, the more hilarious it got. What's more, it struck us all that the Big Kid would have had it no other way.
The days were a blur; phone calls, the wake, the funeral and interment. Through it all, I was beset by the notion that we all go sometime, and we must make the most of the day we have in front of us. Tommy lived that way, in good times and bad, and if that's his legacy, then there are worse things to leave behind.
Enough; on to happier thoughts.
The holidays are now officially behind us, and a new decade has dawned. Thank Christ. No more purchasing, hiding, wrapping, opening, and destroying of gifts; no more running from pillar to post to meet this or that family/friend/holiday obligation. Don't get me wrong; the holidays are among my favorite time of the year, but with them past, we can now safely address this most important of matters:
Six weeks until pitchers & catchers.
Next time, less morbid, and back to voice acting.
Until then, Excelsior!
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