2007

The simplest way I segment the stages of my life is in 3 parts:
1982-2003: I counted on myself (and my nuclear family) for just about everything
2003-2006: I sensed that my ego and impatience was eating away at some of my potential; I began to chill out, talk less, and listen more to try to learn what opportunities I'd been missing (or at least not fully appreciating)
2007- : I truly began to feel like a part of whatever environment I'm in (foreign or familiar, be it a room or an entire city)

Phase 3 began with my "New Life's Resolution" (see 1/27/07 entry) and the book that helped me realize what parts of my personality I (and everyone around me) could do without. As a result, I've had a very relaxing and rewarding year despite its many changes and challenges.

I kicked off 2007 in Maine, watching my father get a stem-cell transplant (the results of which are ambiguous at best and seemingly ineffective). I performed a demanding, high-profile job for 7 months, knowing all the while that it was last 7 months I'd probably ever do it. I solidified a second home for myself 2400 miles from where I began, a home filled with the very people that helped me transition from my second Phase into my third. That Key from the City of Las Cruces is the single most meaningful physical gift I've ever received. It is proof to me that I've come into a very healthy and productive place in my life, as well as a salute to all the friends I made down there. I simply would have had little desire to accomplish what I did without your love.

My Quote of 2007 encapsulates this sense of family among my Borderland friends. It may sound collegiate. But trust me, B-Rizz "said" much more than she said:

"We may run out of food. We may run out of blankets. But we will never-- never-- run out of booze."

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A few toasts, darts, and racks later, I came home... Five months in, I still feel caught in a whirlwind of reunions. Living back at home has proved to me I never want to live outside driving distance from my parents. Reconnecting with my sister (who I haven't had a day-to-day relationship with since I graduated high school) has made this homecoming wholly worth it on its own. I saw 8 dear friends wed. And I truly believe this current job is taking me right where I'm trying to go. Don't bother asking... I have no idea where that is yet.

My defining moment of 2007 will remain the exchange I had with Dad when Colorado's Seth Smith stepped to the plate, shortly before Jonathan Papelbon struck him out to end the World Series:
Dad: "I'm glad you're here."
Me: "I'm glad you are, too."

I will never forget 2007. It was a year of extreme tests. But I am far stronger and more stable from it and I will always look back on it fondly. To half of you, thank you so much for having me. To the other half, thanks so much for having me back.

To '07. To '08.
L'Chayim...

This is a non-denominational tune...

If holidays are anything else besides convenient travel days to spend with family, they are blocks of times designated for pondering the subject at hand. So in the spirit of giving, please allow me to unwrap a bit of prose concerning one of our species' most influential figures:

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I find the story of Jesus the most fascinating of all stories fact or fiction. Here, we have the story of wise and loving man who tried to perform a simple gesture: leave the world a better place than he found it. Instead, his legacy was left to those who made him the focus, rather than his deeds.

Whether this was a sincere attempt by his successors to add credibility to his lessons or not, it has led, I feel, to some schools of thought that view living as a means rather than an activity to be enjoyed.

I find it ironic, too, that the cast of characters following each respective religious school (be they Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, et cetera) want the same thing; one single, simple thing: Security. The feeling of waking up each day, walking outside to greet the sun and saying "We have food, we have friendly neighbors, my children can pursue their dreams here." Yet, the bishops, kings, and queens on the board have outlined such unobtainable criteria for achieving "security" that we, as a species, may never have it.

I'm not surprised by this; not one population of our species has ever been safe from attack. However, the fact that many still believe peace possible is endearing at best to me. And many find religious leaders who demand the conversion or annihilation of entire peoples as a path to this "peace" contradictory.

So let's follow these breadcrumbs back out of the rabbit hole... what would your message to the masses be on Christmas given that Jesus's lessons have been molded to fit countless (sometimes conflicting) agendas and that Peace on earth doesn't seem to be arriving anytime soon? A cynical question, perhaps, but one I think we need to address if this birthday celebration is to have any purpose beyond: "Here's to one who tried."

So... what would yours be?

Let it Snow

(Dedicated to my friends on the border... I'm sure you'll enjoy this one)
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So my recent posts have all been rainbows and smiles... relishing in the life of one sentenced to a cubicle, doing humidity-induced sweat angels on the Commons, lauding the constant swearing and honking by the Newton tolls as the chorus to my favorite forgotten song...

Well, my old pal Snow thought it was time he came and shook my hand... and the very foundations of my mental stability.

Yes, it was only 4-6 inches of snow on Thursday afternoon. The snowologists were quick to point out this was not a big storm in terms of white stuff BUT that, due to the timing of the storm, it was one of the worst commutes they'd ever seen.

I got in my car in South Boston at 1:15. Trying for a short-cut on a back ramp with few signs, I accidentally missed the Pike and ended up on I-93. For those of you who "know" and see where this is going, I'll give you a second to laugh.

Done? Thankssss.

I dropped myself off at Government Center, which at 1:45 on Thursday was the driving equivalent of Eric Mangini dropping himself off at Cask 'n Flagon... I wasn't going anywhere fast. Now Gov't Center is north of my office, so imagine my morale level as I'm passing my office at 3:30... with an 1/8 of a tank left. Had my saint of a sister not rescued me from my storm-induced retardation and suggested I abandon the car in the nearest garage and take the train home, you could have added mine to the 728 cars towed off the highways by State Police later that night.

As I approach South Station with a film of slush on my head, a $35 garage ticket in my pocket, a glimmer of false hope that the trains are on schedule, and ready to punch out the first person that says "Boy, it's really comin' down, huh?" regardless of age or gender (I don't discriminate), a familiar sight started to bring me back to earth. It was the lady I see every day passing out free Boston Nows (I do the sedokus in the back). She smiled and said "it's good to see you." I told myself at that point that life truly does go on and all that matters is I'm on my way home.

As coincidence would have it, I saw my card buddies on the platform (oh that's right... for a month now, I've played a new card game on the 4:58 with this group of 7-8 that call themselves "Trainiacs"). Apparently everyone decided to grab the 4:10 and we had a nice, relaxing game home.

Emy was here when I got home at 6:15 (I left at 1:15, so you don't have to scroll up), so it was all 5 of us watching The Office in Dad's room. Plus, I needed my car in Boston on Friday anyway. So everything worked out and I escaped with some pretty valuable lessons I once learned, passed on, and apparently forgot while playing in the sand for 2 years:

a) don't let your tank slip below 1/4 between October 1 and March 31
b) top off your washer fluid every day on your lunch break during the same time period
c) there is no quick way out of Boston Monday-Friday in a snowstorm unless you live in Charlestown and have a kayak handy... and the bay hasn't frozen... which it has. So scratch that too.

I'm gonna go print c) and glue it to my steering wheel so I can read it to myself every time I utter the words: "Hey, I think I have an idea."

Today's mission: Snow tires for my winter monster, the Corolla, before Shitshow Part Deux slams the commonwealth tonight.

"Well, it doesn't show signs of stopping..."

~Rube

So Drink Your Gin & Tonikah

[From December 16, 2006... if you haven't seen it, it's new to you]

* * * * *

Few holidays capture the American spirit quite like Hanukkah.


Hanukkah is the story of an army outnumbered fighting against a world power on its adopted "home" turf to gain social and religious freedom. Sound familiar?

Sure, 80% of Americans may celebrate Christmas (US Census Bureau, 2001). But 100% of Americans aspire to live with the spirit of Hanukkah. We breathe free thanks to the sacrifices of our own "Maccabees" who traveled an ocean to escape oppression. And thousands every year flock to this country to share in their victory. Just like Israel has grown to more than 6 million people, 75% of which are "home"coming Jews.

Going back to Christmas. Ignorant people wonder (and intelligent people joke) that Hanukkah is the Jewish Christmas. Consider this: Had the Maccabees fallen to the Assyrians, might that have set monotheism back a few hundred years? I don't mean to suggest we'd be worse off as a species worshiping multiple deities, only to point out that we've all come this far partly due to "the great miracle that happened there."

* * * * *

And so, my fellow Americans, I propose a toast to true warriors of freedom, predecessors of the American spirit. L'Chayim.

Happy Hanukkah to all. And to all, a good week.

JaRube
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