Mile Nerd

Watering Plants

It was a badass crew (of junior high school kids).

The lineup included:

Yours truly-
A very regular attendee of after-school detention. If the principal’s office was Cheers, then I was Norm. You knew where to find me. Behind the thick glasses? An encyclopedic knowledge of Yo Momma jokes. Always ready to unleash a clever wisecrack at any moment. Pretty cocky attitude for a kid who hadn’t kissed a girl yet. But that minor detail didn’t prevent me from going by the nickname, “Studman.”

Chad Downey-
Even nerdier looking than the Studman. But widely heralded for his blazing footspeed. His daily wardrobe? Shorts, t-shirt, and running shoes. A reminder to everyone in school that he’d never lost a race. Those lightning bolt legs were always churning. Even while residing in a house full of chain smokers. Which was strangely common at the time, by the way. Chad had one other claim to fame. He looked exactly like Alfred E. Neuman (the character on the cover of Mad Magazine).  

Jimmy Yang-
“Preppy” would be an understatement. He was maybe the youngest GQ subscriber in the nation. A walking, talking database of brand names. Loved reciting random facts about his gore-tex jacket. We had no clue what the hell gore-tex was, but he sure seemed to enjoy it. Jimmy’s closet was his pride and joy. Lined with perfectly ironed Polo shirts in every color. He was my first friend when I moved to town. As my mom tells it, he knocked on the door and asked if the weird kid was home. I sure was. And life grew to become so very exciting for the weird kid after that knock.  

Mike Walsh-
Clearly destined to become an NBA player. Or maybe even a movie star. Those options seemed like the floor of his possibilities. He had everything I didn’t. The type of silky blonde hair that flowed perfectly in the wind. Unlike the tangled mountain of fuzz that resided atop my head. Mike strolled around with a cool skater vibe. Not a care in the world. I stumbled into rooms with a constant state of spaz. He was the most popular kid in school. And my best friend in the whole world.

Yeah, between the four of us, we had it all.

Great style, Olympic-level speed, cool hair…and a very big appetite for life.

Each day was filled with potential. Such boundless excitement. It felt like those adventures we read about in books. Now, in fairness, we were starting to get ourselves into a bit more trouble. Because, as you probably already know…

Adolescent boys are VERY into fireworks.

Don’t ask me why. I can’t really explain the reason. But it’s a total sense of awe.

(One that gets replaced later by boobs, cars, or whatever else comes next)

A few months earlier, I’d actually been visited by the local fire chief. He and my parents had a very simple question for me:

Why on earth did I burn down the woods near our house?

-Ok, well first of all, every backyard in West Virginia is called “the woods.”

-Secondly, it was a total accident. Nobody would actually want to burn down trees.

I guess some lessons just need to be learned though experience.

(Like the one about shooting bottle rockets into a pile of dry leaves)

But life kept moving…

It was now a time of celebration for our crew. This felt like a very special occasion. Mike had somehow managed to get the entire house to himself. Both parents and all three of his brothers were out for the evening.

No rules.

No limits.

It was time to seize the night.

Beyond his athletic prowess and Robert Redford-like hair…Mike Walsh also had the nicest house in the neighborhood. Complete with backyard swimming pool (and regular pool parties). The perks of having a dentist for a dad. As far as we were concerned, the Walsh estate may as well have been Disney World. It felt no less exciting.

Looking back, we should have stuck with a pool party.

Things started out tame. Lighting some run-of-the-mill fireworks. But it quickly grew into something else. Within an hour, we were pouring gasoline onto the soles of our shoes and lighting them up.

Why would anyone do that?

To make it look like we were walking on fire, of course.

(Nobody ever accused teenage boys of being geniuses)

Before long, Mike was filling up a giant Big Gulp cup from 7-Eleven. Essentially a tub of gasoline. All of us were giddy with excitement. We gathered around in a tight circle. He poured a little out and lit it mid-stream…to make fire rain from the cup.

Obviously, the fire moved into that tub of gasoline.

Mike’s hand got hot and dropped the Big Gulp.

Then came a quick decision that would lead to many sleepless nights…

He stomped on the cup.

I felt that heat within an inch of my face. The brightness blinding me for a moment. But my ears still worked. And there was no way to miss the horrifying screams. My eyes began to function again and the first thing I saw was Jimmy’s torso on fire. His Polo shirt engulfed in flames as he frantically spun around. I can still hear those screams today if I let myself remember. The second thing I saw? Chad’s unrecognizable lower body. It was just a wall of fire. Mike and I stood next to each other in a frozen state of shock. Eventually remembering our lessons from school. Shouting at both of them to roll on the ground.

We finally put out the fires. The screams morphing into cries. Jimmy no longer sounded like a kid. It was the first time I’d heard primal sounds from a human being. From somewhere deep inside. Chad’s crying was so much softer, indicating that something more serious might be happening. Like running out of the energy required to make sounds. Mike and I got them closer to the pool. Both of us floating above it all in some disoriented state of shock.

Ideally, one of us would have realized that chlorine would only make things worse.

But we didn’t have that thought.

For the first time in our young lives, we found ourselves in a living nightmare.

Absolutely no idea what to do. The look of their burnt skin…the sounds coming from them…the denial inside us that any of this was actually happening.

I was starting to lose it. And, in a panic, Mike began pleading with them not to tell their parents. A quick moment of desperate self-preservation. As if there was any way to hide what we’d done. Chad couldn’t stand up anymore. Jimmy was unable to form words between his screams. So I picked up the phone and called Chad’s father. My hands shaking. I didn’t recognize the voice coming out of my mouth as I blurted out that we were in serious trouble and needed help.

Within minutes, the car arrived. He looked at each of us, surveyed the situation, and his face filled with rage. He put Chad into the back of their Toyota…and then drove away.

To this day, I still can’t believe he left us there.

But we didn’t have time to waste. Jimmy needed to get to a doctor fast. So, I called my mom. The feeling was complete and utter terror. She drove us to the hospital and I had no idea how much anger was brewing. No clue what type of punishment awaited.

It turned out she was just so relieved that I was ok.

Physically, that is.

But our focus was on Jimmy and Chad.

I sat with Mike in the waiting room of the ER. A movie played on the television. We hardly noticed it. Both of us were somewhere else. Staring blankly ahead. Suddenly, a scene popped up that grabbed our attention. We looked at the tv together and saw an image of a house on fire. Tears began streaming down our faces. The gravity of this night impossible to avoid.

Jimmy and Chad were left with permanent scars on their bodies. A nasty bit of discoloration would now always peek out from underneath Jimmy’s Polo shirts. I never saw how much worse it was underneath. His family moved away soon after that night. And we never saw Chad in shorts again. There were no more races. He started spending much more time on his own.

Mike was grounded for a very long time. I imagine there were lawsuits or settlements. But he and I never saw each other outside of school again. Because of whatever else was happening, he ended up flunking that grade. We lost touch.

That night was the last time our crew ever hung out together.

I haven’t replayed those details in my head for years. But, as I type the words, all of these feelings are still right there inside. That’s how it is with so many of our memories, right? Could be a million years ago but could also be just yesterday.

I remember moving to that town. Watching other kids playing in the street. Wanting desperately to have that in my life.

I remember the excitement of these blooming friendships.

And I remember how quickly they went away.

Man, it’s a dramatic story. Easily the most cinematic ending to a friendship I’ve ever had. But are “normal” endings much different?  

I worked with a guy in my 20’s. We had a quick dinner together every night on our break. I knew about his dreams and fears. He knew about mine. We helped each other outside of work. And, like so many other examples through the years, eventually lost touch.

I was the best man at my college friend’s wedding. At that time, we were the closest thing either of us had to a brother. And now? Just sporadic contact every few years. Surface-level conversations. That tight bond no longer there.  

When we lose the specialness of a connection we once had, there’s some emptiness left behind. Memories and the little whisper of a question – of what might have been.

Usually, there isn’t some dramatic situation. Because making friends is fairly easy. But keeping that alive and healthy is something different. And it gets much harder to stay connected as we grow older. There’s more noise. Internal and external. More to occupy our attention.

I think this is a muscle we can develop…

-To feel a responsibility for deepening the bonds that matter.

-To consciously take the time to invest in those relationships.

-To keep meaningful sparks alive.

I don’t think many of us prioritize this enough in our to-do lists. I look around and see it in others. I look in the mirror and see it in myself.

We should understand this well by now. Deep connections can be made. But they can also be lost.

And it doesn’t always take a Big Gulp full of gasoline to do it.

Just some lack of time and care.

I hope all of us can get better at this. At remembering that our closest friendships aren’t bulletproof. That relationships are living things that need to be watered. Otherwise, they will decay.

I hope all of us can work that muscle.

Wheels Up

You start another travel year. A story yet untold.

Still hungry for adventures…

Those vacations feel like gold.

“Keep grinding through the workweek” – it’s what you tell yourself inside.

Daily cobwebs turn to boredom.

Time to get that rectified.

So, it’s off to pack your luggage. Give routine a forceful shake. 

With the seat assignment done,

Now on to memories you’ll make.

Walking briskly through the airport, you can feel your soul exhale.

Enthusiasm growing

While you buy some junk on sale.

Thirteen dollars for a magnet? Not a bargain basement price.

But your day-to-day so cautious

Vacation mode far less precise.

Warm greeting at the gate. An agent says, “Enjoy your trip!”

With a nod, you shout, “You too!”

Before you quickly bite your lip.  

All those awkward vibes are gone before you plop down in your seat.

Such excitement in the air,

There’s just no time to feel defeat.

Right then, a guy behind you opens up his pungent fish.

And some cranky girl across the aisle…

Wait, she really eats that dish?

You hold your breath with passion. And imagine shining sun.

A nearby baby shrieks intensely.

Exorcism soon to come?

You need this trip to energize. To wash away malaise.

Stuck in a sea of screaming toddlers.

All around those gross buffets.

You watch the human zombies. Mindless scrolling on their phones.

It’s an avalanche of lameness.

Just a long parade of clones.

To the bathrooms you retreat with haste. A moment to relax.

Both occupied, there’s no escape.

This trip is falling off the tracks.

You sit back down, defeated now, and hear a quiet voice.

It’s the child you were so long ago,

Who never had a choice.

Road trips and destinations. Where you’d never go today.

Exhibits and weird monuments,

Bland food from some café.

But those memories they live in you – a piece of who you are.

From when you first discovered travel,

Felt a rush within that car.

Those journeys never perfect. No vacations ever calm.

Filled with messy interactions

Could have made a great sitcom.

Today you visit places like you never even dreamed.

And yet you get yourself deflated

Because some demon baby screamed.

Enough of this, you say out loud, and look into the aisle.

Right then, it dawns on you with clarity…

No way to fight the smile.

Wait, my flight is full of seekers. People looking to explore.

Our common bond is hunger…

This appetite for something more.

“Annoyances will always be,” you tell yourself inside.

Has always been that way for me

A part of this wild ride.

Eyes open wide. You take it in. The chaos all around.

But somehow now it comforts you.

Wheels gently touch the ground.

The Bonds We Make

Somehow, we’ve already reached the last post of the year.

How did this happen?

Did someone click a fast-forward button?

Is there a Karen available to write a strongly worded letter to time? Something like:

Dear Time:

So…uh, what’s your deal, anyway? Chill out! Or I’ll need to speak to a manager.

On a similar note – we’ve now reached five years since I retired MileNerd.

Total insanity.  

I can’t believe so much time has passed. But we always say that about the years flying by, don’t we? The same phrase over and over again – “I can’t believe it.”

Maybe we should start believing.

The years keep zooming and it appears that nothing…not even someone named Karen…can slow them down.

So, with such limited time, why do I do this every month? For 5 years now. After almost a decade of daily MileNerd posts. Maybe some of you have wondered this. Why sit down and write these stories for strangers? What is the point of opening up this way every month?

It’s a very simple answer…

To connect with you.

There’s literally no other reason to do this. No money being earned. No goal of someone noticing my talent and whisking me away to write a novel. And we’re 5 years past any deal talk. But the thing is…we’re connected here – in a way that I can feel. Sure, I’ve never seen most of your faces. You’ve probably never seen mine. And I doubt I could recite 10 facts about you. Maybe not one. But this feels like a connection…and it feels like that matters. Why? Because I’m a lunatic? It’s possible. Or maybe the act of opening up my heart and touching yours allows us to feel a little less lonely in some way. Look back at your life. Isn’t that what’s behind a lot of what you do? Same here. Because what would any of this journey be without the connecting?

So, yeah, doing this still feels good. And I don’t need to see your face to believe that we are connected in some way.

For the last post of the year, I’d like to share an experience that happened a few weeks ago…

As you know, game shows have been an ongoing adventure for me. A fun “side hustle” since my college days. Over the years, I’ve won a car, trips, cash, an espresso machine, knives, kitchenware, a bed, a desk, and more. I’ve also lost cars. And even helped a young girl win an Audi. The appeal of game shows is obvious. At least to those of us with “deal brains.” It’s wildly exciting. Show up empty-handed in the morning and maybe end the day with a new car. This is something I try to attempt whenever possible. If the calendar says I’ve waited the required amount of time…I’m always willing to play again. To continue this ongoing adventure.

Which brings us to November 7th…

I’d just returned from New Orleans the night before. Arriving home after midnight. Wiped out after an action-packed weekend.

(Editor’s note: A late flight followed by an early morning game show appointment = a doozy. Best to be armed with copious amounts of caffeine. Plus a syringe to inject it straight into the bloodstream)

Now, let’s be clear about this…

Is winning a car an exceptional amount of fun? Absolutely. So, yeah, an exhausting day is fine. Who am I to not show up? To not be willing to invest a few hours in this pursuit? Oh, and I could become the first person to win a car on multiple game shows. As far as I know, it has never happened. So, let’s do this.

(Those were my “good” thoughts)

Valid.

Logical.

But, man, was I exhausted. Home after midnight and awake before sunrise. Standing in line with a bunch of very boisterous people. Come on, guys. Pace yourself. We have a long day ahead.

After slowly working my way through the line and into the waiting area…I filled out paperwork. Then waited. Took pictures. Waited more. And then began a mission to find the coffee. I realized something in the midst of all this. There’s zero excitement left in me when it comes to the game show experience. I’m truly just there for the car. A crackhead gambler who can’t stop rolling the dice.

(In case you’re wondering, I didn’t win anything this particular day. Had $4,000 in my hand at one point that I ended up losing while going for the bigger prize. Because…crackhead. Just there for the car. Not four grand. First time I remember leaving a game show empty-handed)

But I did experience something that day.

And it was far more valuable than prizes or money…

I noticed a guy right away in the waiting room. In the way that strangers can sometimes catch our attention in a crowd. His name was Nick. And he lives in Mariposa. A town of 1,000 people right at the entrance of Yosemite. No traffic lights or chain stores. A Burger King did open there once and the locals weren’t exactly thrilled about it. There was such positive energy coming from this guy. Unlike many of the people around him who were trying to “act” like the life of the party. He was actually that. Cracking lots of jokes and having a great time. Just so genuinely happy to be there. But I also noticed him wincing and sitting down every so often. Probably from lifting weights or playing sports. Who knows. And, for whatever reason, he seemed to be drawn in by me too. Just kind of how it goes with people. Random little things get us talking to random strangers. No telling where those conversations might go. Nick talked about Mariposa and how different it is from the big city. He spoke about his wife and 3 kids. His eyes lighting up while he talked about them. What a special thing that is for kids to have from their dad. It’s a feeling I longed to know when I was their age. Hopefully one day they’ll understand what a gift it was to have in their young lives.

Nick really wanted to say his kids’ names on the show. He repeated that goal multiple times. With his boundless enthusiasm. I asked what he hoped to win. His ideal prize was a trip – maybe somewhere exotic. He mentioned Turks and Caicos. Also Thailand. When I asked a question about his kids, he began to cry. This came totally out of nowhere. The guy was in such a happy mood other than his occasional wincing. Those tears were such a surprise…

And then he told me about his cancer.

It’s in his liver. Stage 4.

Terminal.

What do you say in a moment like that? Hard to get too much out with a lump in your throat. But I certainly didn’t want to ask how long he had to live. I did find out later (from his sister) that it’s 3 months or so. One of my first thoughts was that he wouldn’t even receive the trip in time to be able to go on it. So strange how our brains work. A kind-hearted father with 3 months to live – and I’m thinking about him not being able to take a trip. The whole thing was heartbreaking. Such a kind man with this big capacity for joy. The type of person who should be alive. Who seems to know how to do it right. But I guess there’s no should. Only what is. And, in this reality, his cancer started in another part of his body and then just kept spreading. They tried everything. I gathered most of this information from his sister.

What was she like?

Man, it was just full-on brother/sister vibes. Constant clowning. Nonstop teasing. You could see exactly how they were as kids together. And I guess that’s how it goes with siblings. You hold on to that same dynamic. No other relationship in the world quite like it. But she also kept checking on him. In subtle ways as to not take away from the fun. I asked her what she wanted to win. Was it a trip? A car? Something else?

She whispered, “Just for him to have a great day.”

Made sure he was out of earshot.

And then right back to busting balls.

I’m so jaded about game shows that I’d been chugging coffee just to get my energy up. To have the necessary pump when needed. I was there for a car. But these two? They showed up for something else. See, he’s a big fan of the show. Knows all the games. And there are a few things he wants to do with his remaining days. This was on the bucket list.

For me, the day started as nothing more than attempt number 6 to win some new wheels. But it felt like a very special occasion for him. And his enthusiasm was contagious. It didn’t take long for me to be rooting for the guy to have a great day too. By the third hour of waiting, a few others in the room knew his story. Word had spread. Strangers now becoming friends. Not because he’s dying. But because of how he’s living. That appetite for life. And all of the joy he was spreading in the room. Both siblings are pretty successful in their professional lives. This was about getting to play on his favorite show, not about the prize itself.

Those two were there to soak in the moment.

To share the day together.

Me? Just a crackhead gambler showing up for a car at first. But now this was about something else. We finally went into the studio around noon. After hours of conversations since we’d arrived at 7:00. I really got to know the guy. And have thought of him many times in the weeks since. They placed everyone in groups of 3 in the studio. A very specific seating order to know who to call down, where those people are located, and so on. Nick, his sister, and I were placed together. Our own little gang. And what a gift it was to watch them during the taping. Not like some Hallmark movie where a brother and sister are tame with each other. It was constant ribbing, laughing, and mocking. They were having an absolute blast. But there was no way to miss what was happening behind their eyes. They both knew this was a special occasion. Something precious to hold onto. The clock is ticking fast. Without the luxury of thinking, “I can’t believe it.”

They have to believe it. But what do you actually do in a situation like that? When there’s no time to waste? You still have to live out those hours. Nobody’s goal is to spend 3 months in the fetal position. So there they were. Busting balls. Laughing. With the occasional cry. Only from him, though. Her eyes welled up a few times – but she was there to make sure he had a great day. And to have that for herself too. She was there to share this with him. Standing with her brother as he crossed an item off his bucket list.

By then, I was part of this little gang. Inside a nonstop montage of chatting, laughing, cheering, and dancing. High-fives and hugs. With some wincing along the way. Nick did win his trip. To the place I’d just returned from 12 hours earlier. New Orleans. As you can imagine, I gave him a long list of food recommendations. With the understanding that he probably won’t be alive to take that trip. He knew it and I knew it.  But we still had the conversation as if it could happen. Nick and his sister were the only people that day who got to play a game together as a team. Pretty sure that wasn’t an accident. Each sibling gave me a bear hug as we said goodbye. Nick has my number and knows I’ll try to find him a good deal to Thailand if he wants to go. But I’m not sure that trip will happen. I think maybe this day was the trip. Much more about winning on his favorite show than taking an exotic vacation. I can’t imagine I’ll ever see them again, but I won’t forget the day we shared.

And all that I witnessed.

I’ve tried to win a car 6 times on game shows since I was a college kid. Was lucky enough to do it once. Plus a bunch of other prizes along the way. But I feel like I was able to be around something truly special this day. We’re all running out of time like Nick is. The hourglass emptying. We just don’t know when it’ll be. So, what do we do? I think maybe we all just try our best to figure it out, right? Getting as much crossed off from our bucket lists as we can. And if we’re lucky enough to have people we love on this journey? We try to share some special moments with them. To feel what it is to connect. Because, without that, what’s the point of any of this?

We live in an increasingly disconnected world. I think that probably scares me. And maybe it scares you too. So, together, let’s remember how important it is to reach out to people. To keep our hearts open. And to let others in.

I wish you a very happy holiday season, my friends.

A perfect time of year to connect with those around you.

Lucy Land

I agreed to watch my sister’s dog for the weekend.

That feels worthy of writing a live diary.

Thursday

Could Lucy be the sweetest creature on this planet? Possibly. She is, essentially, a 9-pound ball of love. Bouncing around with turbo-powered joy. Her playfulness dial cranked up to the max.

As we speak, she’s literally squealing with excitement to be here. I’m talking actual squeals. This fuzzy weirdo doesn’t even mind when I grab a steak bone out of her mouth. What kind of dog is cool with that? She just follows me around (practically skipping) like:

“What’s our next adventure, super cool human???”

Her current status?
Running from room to room as if she won the lottery. Just bolting in, spinning around in a circle, and then racing to the next room.  

(She’s been doing this for the last 15 minutes)

Not exactly sure what this place represents to her. She naps like a normal dog everywhere else. Sleeps through the night at home. But the second she walks through this door…

It’s spring break ’97. Daytona Beach style.

I don’t think animals know about frat parties. But, man, this sure does feel like she’s planning on a weekend-long rager.

Nah.

Probably just my imagination.

Thursday afternoon

Since we last spoke, I ordered a venti cold brew from Starbucks.

(A lot of caffeine for someone who doesn’t drink coffee)

Well, it’s doing nothing.

Lucy is getting the better of me.

Picture a sloth. Then imagine it with a hangover. Now shoot it with a tranquilizer gun.

That’s me.

Would continue writing but Lucy is chewing on my feet.

(This is apparently the greatest game in the history of Daytona Beach)

My watch says today is still Thursday.

That can’t be right.

Just googled, “Does Starbucks have a beverage stronger than cold brew?”

Maybe my watch is broken.

Friday

There’s a question on my mind this morning…

Do all living creatures require sleep?

My life experience says yes. But I’m wondering if there are exceptions…

She stared through the glass door all night long. A very happy predator. Looking into total darkness.

Desperate for a return to Disneyland.

(Also known as the backyard)

All night long.

Gazing out. Hoping for any possible sighting of a bird or squirrel. Impossible since all of them were SLEEPING LIKE NORMAL CREATURES. But no amount of darkness would squash her enthusiasm. Tail wags for hours. Little growls of excitement. Like a miniature Corvette revving up.

Maybe the first all-nighter in the history of canines.

A pair of lightning-quick power naps and that’s it.

Eagerly waiting for sunrise.

For the Disneyland gates to open once again.   

You’re probably wondering something. And it’s a fair question. Why didn’t I just escape to the bedroom? Oh, I tried. But she grabbed her mini tennis ball and stood right in the doorway. Like a tiny, furry linebacker. Tail wagging. Eyes dancing with excitement. Rolling over with such joy that I had no choice but to play with her.

Spoiler alert:
Sleeping on couches = not awesome.

Unsure what time it is now.

Maybe early afternoon.

Never mind.

It’s 8:30 AM.

Planning to buy another venti cold brew. But might as well chug a nice, tall glass of air. No longer just punch drunk. This is something new. Feels like an acid trip. What does LSD stand for, anyway? And, since we’re on the subject, why the hell do we say venti? Was there a secret meeting where the powers-that-be decided to pretend it isn’t strange? A joke on the general population. Who no longer walk up there and order a large coffee. Nope. We accept the lunacy. While they laugh at the rest of us. The sheep who continue dancing this strange venti dance.

(It appears that my sleep deprivation has caused some mood swings)

My mind has twisted like a food court pretzel.

Anyway, time to head back out there. I’m being summoned. To throw a mini nerf football from one end of the yard to the other. She’ll chase it around endlessly like a crackhead who spotted a bag of white powder. I’ll keep throwing. Sipping my venti cold brew. Drifting slowly into insanity.

Friday night

Lucy is currently outside chasing a moth.

(She’s been doing this for over 30 minutes now)

Not sure how to articulate her excitement level for this moth.

But I’ll try…

Imagine a big game hunter who walks outside and sees a dinosaur.

Saturday

Time to question some life decisions.

Namely, how did I agree to this? What on earth was I thinking?

Trying to be a good brother, I guess. But, really, what’s wrong with being an average brother? Or even a subpar one? Life would still go on. People (including me) would still get to sleep at night. Sure, maybe I won’t be the Michael Jordan of siblings. But it’s time to lower some goals. Maybe just shoot for “non-embarrassment” in the brother rankings.   

So, how did last night go? Gather around as I share my brilliant strategy.

Let’s call it a master plan:

Step 1 – Run Lucy around for hours.
Step 2 – Get her exhausted.
Step 3 – Pick her up very gently and put her in a dark room to fall asleep.
Step 4 – Tiptoe away en route to a night of rejuvenating slumber.

The plan was more than just smart. It was brilliant.

(In theory, that is)

In reality? This dog knows how to knock on doors. No clue how that’s possible since she has no hands. I’m guessing she used her face. And rammed over and over again. Luckily, I’m a rock. The one who withstood that avalanche of pressure. But then she discovered the doorstop. Playing that spring like an electric guitar all night long.

(She is, apparently, the Eddie Van Halen of doorstop musicians)

Yada yada yada, I finally let her out of prison. Also known as the comfortable room equipped with a plush dog bed.

The door opened. That little criminal stumbled to me ACTING like she slept all night. As if I hadn’t just listened to hours of her concert. Come on, man. I HEARD YOU. As soon as she gets around me, she prances away with a twinkle in her eyes. No longer playing the role of normal animal who sleeps through the night. Free once again. To hunt birds and squirrels with the energy of Britney Spears in an Instagram video.  

Merryl Streep would have gasped at this dog’s performance. 

And then would have handed her an Oscar.

Saying, “You deserve this more than I do.”

(On another note, I’m thinking about skipping cold brew today and just moving on to heroin)

Lucy is currently digging a giant hole to China.

She’s now rolling around with glee in said China hole.

It’s a full-on party up in here.

I think my hallucination stage has begun.

Saturday middle of the night

Inquiring minds want to know:

What happened post-China hole?

She storms in like it’s the Battle of Gettysburg. Spotting something even more exciting than a hole. It’s her gross, year-old blue and purple mini tennis ball. Also known as the greatest toy ever made.

We played with this ball until I developed carpal tunnel syndrome.

Surgery is likely needed.

Then I tried to put her in jail/the very comfortable room.

Not sure if her ensuing sounds would be better described as:
A) Soap opera actress, or
B) Prisoner of war.

But, yes, we are again on the couch. It is deep into the night. She discovered a genius idea that was, of course, much smarter than mine…

She’s sitting on me so I can’t move.

Not sure what day this is.

Time is a foreign concept that no longer applies.

I float through the atmosphere of another dimension.

Seeing nothing but visions of doorstops and mini tennis balls floating through the sky.

Sunday

No idea why I thought it was wise to give her a bath this morning.

After all, rock stars don’t take baths.

When I finally intercepted her light-speed escape, I tried to towel her off.

That towel? It’s now the best toy in the history of modern society.

(Overtaking the old blue and purple tennis ball)

Sunday night

Staring into space.

Into the abyss.

Trying to locate the strength.

This is the situation when you party all day and rage all night. The current reality for young Lucy at this point. She has finally, against all odds, hit the wall.

Victory is mine.

I finally get to witness her falling asleep.

(Editor’s note: It turned out that I was not the hero of this tale. My sister arrived just in time to rescue Lucy from defeat)

Where does that leave me, you ask?

Well, it’s time for this guy to hibernate for the next 10 hours or so.

Monday very early morning

Can’t sleep.

I miss the dog.

Cardboard, Not Concrete

I’m running very late.

There’s a tight 15-minute window that I’m about to miss.

A wedding?

Graduation?

Emergency surgery?

Nope.

I’m at the mall to pick up a new iPhone.

(According to this email, I need to arrive precisely between 10:15 and 10:30)

Yeah, ok.

How busy can an Apple Store be?

I turn the corner, walk past the intoxicating aroma of Cinnabon, and catch a glimpse of my destination. The long line stops me in my tracks.

Wait, it’s STILL like this?

15 generations into these phones?

This is not the most advanced technology in the world. Not even the most powerful smartphone available. But, holy shit, think of the impact of this device.

We get so used to everything, don’t we? No matter what it is. Just becomes par for the course. But sometimes your heart feels like sounding an alarm. Tapping your brain on its shoulder. Saying, “Forget the mental routine of this. Actually let it in. Really look around.”

So, I listen to my brain tap.

I stare at the long line again. But, this time, with the appropriate sense of awe.

Forgetting for a moment how “normal” it is to see people with iPhones in 2023. Instead, I consider what this actually is. And what it actually was. How all of this started from a dude tinkering away in his garage. Much like those kids in school who seemed to always be messing with their circuit boards. We learned over time to think of Steve Jobs as STEVE JOBS. But he was just a guy named Steve. Someone who pitched weird ideas and heard:

“Why would regular people want a computer?”

Years later, all of us are impacted. Using words like “Facetime” and “iMessage” as common parts of our daily vocabulary. Words that could have sounded like complete gibberish. If a guy named Steve was more of a follower.

Man, the impact…

Even how millions of us look down every day and automatically know what the color blue means in our text messages.

How many times did people say he should stop tinkering?  

And how many of us would have listened?  

Suddenly, I notice the large number of people in line wearing Air Jordans. Almost like it’s part of their uniform. Were these young guys even alive to watch him play? I start doing the quick math in my head…

Ok, Michael retired from the Bulls in…wait…1998?

My heart gives another tap to the ol’ brain…

Forget the mental routine of being used to this.

So, basically, nobody under the age of 35 has a memory of watching his career. And yet they’re touched by it. Lacing up their “Jordans” each morning.

I push through the cobwebs in my head.

Taking it all in.

That Jordan is, in fact, a name. Of a high schooler who was cut from his varsity squad. A kid named Mike who worked his butt off all summer to improve. Less recruited than someone named Buzz Peterson in his college class.

And now this level of impact.

All these years later.

Not a mall in America we could walk through without seeing people wear his name.

Another tap on the brain…

Have you ever considered how absurd it is to tell someone their dreams are unrealistic?

And how absurd it is to believe that about yourself?

But, every day, we pass our limitations on to others. They do the same to us. Not intentionally, of course. Just a game of tag. An endless circle of projection. As we build mental ceilings for each other. Over time, they keep getting lower and lower.

Until we learn to stop paying attention to our dreams.

Programmed to believe these ceilings are real.

While we walk through malls, buying sneakers and phones, forgetting to look at the limitless possibility all around us.

And within us.

It’s easier to build safe little boxes for ourselves. To live in them. To forget that great possibilities existed for us. And still do. Things can change in such big ways. But something inside wants us to forget that. Because it’s more comfortable within the safety of our limits.

Within our mental routines.

Within the boxes we have built.