Redemption…

We are ridiculously blessed as sports fans in New England, experiencing an embarrassment of riches that few cities will ever experience.  Because of that, this Bruins Stanley Cup victory will likely be nothing more than a footnote for most folks over the next few days. But, for me, this was the pinnacle.

I’ve had a love/hate relationship with the Bruins over the last decade, going so far as to write this after their meltdown last spring.  Heck, I thought we were looking at the same old Bruins after the went down 0-2 to Montreal in the first round.  But…here we are.

I had the privilege of attending game seven of the conference finals when they beat Tampa for the right to got to the Cup.  I found myself flashing back to all the games and seasons I’ve lived with this team while I was there.  But tonight, I remembered specifically the second game my dad ever took me to.  I don’t recall the year but our seats were awesome….front row in the corner of the old Garden.  We were so close that I still have a lasting memory of seeing Cam Neely battling for a puck with the stitches in his cheek in complete view.  Tonight, as I saw him interviewed post-game, I noticed the scar on that same cheek.

It all came full-circle for me.

The Sox, Patriots and Celtics championships have been awesome.  But, I’m a hockey guy, and growing up listening to my dad talk about the Big Bad Bruins of the 70s and dealing with those great Bourque/Neely teams that ran into the Oilers machine…and of course, trading Bourque away to win a Cup in Colorado…this rocks.

And to give you a sense of how deep the expectation the B’s always find a way to lose is;  I called my Dad at the end of the 2nd period and was met with a “well, they did blow that 3-0 lead against Tampa earlier…”

He probably fell asleep before the game was over, but I know he’ll be beside himself when he wakes up tomorrow.  This rules.

Thanks, B’s.

Long time, no something, something…

Not going to acknowledge the obvious futility with this blog, but instead jump into (and likely to) the obvious.

It’s no secret to any of you who know me, that music is a huge part of me.  And for those of you who have known me for a while, you’re most definitely aware of my love for Pearl Jam and understand this love was once rooted in a borderline obsession .

It’s actually Pearl Jam’s 20th anniversary this year…they’re doing some cool things. And I was recently combing the YouTube archives for old PJ clips.  Here are few gems, concentrated specifically around the 1993 MTV music awards when the band (and Eddie specifically) really were wrestling the grunge phenomenon:

They performed twice, they kick off with the first time the ever played “Animal” with it obvious Five-against-one opening.

They later get to live a dream and play with Neil Young:

They were up for (and won) every award for the “Jeremy” video. This clip captures all the “winning” moments.  Kind of cool to watch for a few reasons.  Eddie’s obvious inability to handle the fame, the fact the Mike McCreedy disappears halfway through the night (this was the height of his drunkenness), a touching part where they include the kid from the Jeremy video(where Ed kissed Flea an Anthony Keidis) and a great post-show interview with Kurt Loder:

And finally, this awesome performance of Porch from Mtv’s Unplugged that still give me chills:

Funny to look back…can’t believe it’s 20 years later.

Oh, I suck…

I didn’t think it was possible for something to suck and blow simultaneously, but here I am.

I started this blog with the intention of being regular.  Of course, at the time, I was unemployed.  Since, being blessed with finding a new gig, my posting have ground to a halt. And for that, I apologize…to myself, for being a lazy SOB again (one of these decades, I’ll get a blog right).

But, I digress.

I think I have some stuff to tell, but its going to be random and sporadic.  Still, I’ll try….

The Conventional Me…

The conventional saying of “if I only knew then what I know now” exists for a reason…it’s wishful idealism at its finest.  What I do know is the 23-year-old version of me would hate the current version of me.  But, the current version of me would think the 23-year-old version of me was an unrealistic asshole.  I guess what I’m saying is, I hate myself.

Not literally of course, at least not all the time.  But, knowledge and perspective are a funny pair.  So, how ridiculous was I? To get there, we need to journey back to my college years.

I’ve always believe age is a state of mind, which is why I do my best to refute the fact I graduated college over 14 years ago.  Just typing that last line is a bit sobering to me, so I refuse to dwell on it.  My point is, I felt I had the world by the strings then, and that anything was possible.  Its about as naïve as it gets in hindsight, but I do feel the fact I approached college as equal parts classroom and external experience really helps me to this very day. Or, not…again, it’s perspective.

The transition post-graduation was tough for me and I spent I good year and a half “finding myself.”  This, of course, include a pseudo solo cross-country trip that was more of an excuser to catch part of the Phish ’97 summer tour and see college friends who had scattered post-graduation.   Eventually, reality starting to creep in and it was time to enter the real world.

I remember when of the big beliefs I stood behind when joining the working ranks was the insistence I would never own a suit in my life.  That lasted about three years into the real world.   I laugh now at it, but there still a part of current me that respects what the 23-year-old was trying to trying to stand for.

Time as obviously past and my responsibilities have grown.  However, I still like to believe age is a state of mind.  Granted it’s a state where I’m somewhat defined by my career choice and most definitely still trying to figure out how to raise me kids to not be as neurotic as me…and I think that angers my youthful memories.  But,  in between…life is pretty good.

A Vacation Saved…

Complete catastrophe was moments away.  The heat was making everyone crazy…and angry.  I was yelling at the wife, the wife was shouting at me, and the kids were completely crazed.  We were careening toward worst vacation ever, and then we were saved by a lake.

We’ve been coming to the White Mountains for the last couple of years.  I can say with confidence that the weather here is never the same from one year to the next. Last year it was battling with rain and cool temperatures. This year, its 100 degree heat and humidity.

It’s amazing what 100 degree weather will do to a person. Now, I’ll be the first to admit I’m a total wuss when it comes to the heat.  A complete energy hog when it comes to air conditioning, I like my temps somewhere around frigid.  So, being stuck at a cabin without A/C in this weather was less than ideal.  The hotter and sticker it got, the more pissed-off I got.

It had been getting progressively hotter since our arrival on Saturday, but when we woke on Tuesday, it was apparent we were in for something just short of inferno.  The first clue came when our normal vacuum cleaner of a dig, wasn’t even eating from his bowl.  He was just panting uncontrollably and completely lackadaisical.  Suddenly what we felt was a great decision to keep him out of a kennel for a week, looked like the worst thing we could have done.  Fortunately, we were able to find a wonderful boarding center about eight miles away to put him up for the remainder of the week.  Thanks to Karla’s Pet Rendezvous, Coal is much cooler and comfortable than us.

The plan that other day was to head to Attitash.  However, as we were driving back from dropping Coal off –and watching the outside temp on the dash climb to the upper 90s–we knew being outside wasn’t happening.  I pulled the car over so we could figure out what the heck we were going to do.  As the boys screamed at us about wanting to stick to the plan, unfazed by the heat and further lending credence to my theory all kids have some alien in them until they become teenagers, we realized we needed to find water.  The Saco River was the choice, but as we set-out to find a good spot, we stumbled upon Echo Lake, and beat the heat.

Set at the base of Cathedral Ledge, Echo Lake provided a great beach, gorgeous views and an awesome lake that provided the perfect way to stay cool.  Granted it was probably more mental than anything, but I swear it felt about 15 degrees cooler at the lake.  I’m pretty sure I spent at least eight hours in the water the last couple of days, and the kids, even longer.

As I sit this morning in the ironically-named Cool Mountain Cottage, a breeze has actually brought the morning temp down below 80 for the first time in days.  The forecast is calling for temps in the mid-80s, today, which should feel fall-like compared to the past few days.  So, we’ll finally be hitting that planned trip to Attitash.  But, thank you Echo Lake for providing the oasis that saved the vacation.

My Brown Thumb…

As both my loyal readers remember, I experienced some  self-satisfaction with the construction of a couple of raised garden beds this past spring.  Turns-out, I’m pretty good at slapping some wood together, but terrible when it comes to agriculture.  While most people are already starting to harvest some early crops like lettuce and cucumbers, I’m dealing with a garden that would only make Charlie Brown proud, thanks to a few major oversights.

Our sad, sad garden

First, we were a little too ambitious.  The main purpose for building the beds was for the kids to enjoy the growth process.  As such, we planted seeds right in the bed instead of purchasing seedlings or growing indoors first because we wanted the boys to enjoy the process.  We realized we would likely need to swap-in seedlings at some point, but some early sprouting of lettuce seemed to push this idea out of our brains.

I failed to realize these crops sprout pretty fast and the rabbits made quick work of them.  This was okay though, because the tomatoes, cucumbers, carrots and pumpkins were coming up.  Then I was hit with something ridiculously obvious…the beds simply didn’t get enough sunlight.

When I built the beds in April, the trees were just budding.  Now, with everything in bloom, the beds were in shade far too long during the day.  So, I started hacking away at trees and managed to salvage what I thought was enough sunlight in the late afternoon.  But, after a few weeks I realized it wasn’t enough.

I started over thinking things trying to figure out how I could secure more sunlight.  I thought about cutting down trees or trying to move the beds. Neither of which were really practical.  Then the obvious hit me last night…greenhouse.

Time will tell...

Every season when we take up the rink, the grass underneath the liner greens-up much earlier than the rest of the lawn.  So, with a ton of extra plastic sheeting and some PVC pipe, I constructed some pseudo hothouses, today.  Hopefully this will spur things on.  I’m just pissed at myself that I didn’t realize the obvious solution—not to mention material—were sitting in my shed along.

The lesson, as always; I’m a moron.  Happy 4^th, folks.

My Initial Phacebook…

I’ve had a lot of varied relationships in my life.  We all have.  But I think the strangest—to most people anyway – is my relationship with the band Phish.  I’ve seen the band well over a 100 times and they have really been part of my life’s backdrop for 17 years.

The Phish...from Vermont

Revealing this fact to people and watching them try to and comprehend is often a favorite

of mine.

Those unfamiliar with the band generally regard the group as the heir-apparent to the Grateful Dead, which of course, comes with all the stereotypical hippie attachments or any other media-fueled stereotype.  Some are certainly true, but most are complete inaccuracies…the biggest of which is the diverse style of music. The Dead were a more folks/blues-oriented outfit, while Phish is rooted more in the classic/prog rock genre.  But, they both move freely through a variety of styles.  Either way, both are masters at improvisational music, which is the root of my love for each.

While I could go one for pages about my love of music and how the feeling of being part of live sonic creation can equate itself to a religious experience, that’s not my purpose here.  Instead, I want to talk about the influence the social aspect of Phish has had on my life.

One of the great things Phish has brought to the world beyond music has been the innovation in the online space.  Many of you may, or may not, remember the “listservs” that were sort of the first mainstream internet discussion forums.  Phish fans created one of the first forums dedicated to music where fans discussed shows and more importantly traded the live show tapes that formed the grassroots campaign that grew the band to where they are today.

As the Internet and ease of HTML use provided a means for web sites to be created easier, Phish fans online innovation progressed in lock-step. The first site that was really the definitive Phish site was Phish.net (Phish themselves didn’t launch their official website until the summer of 1996).  But, it was the fan site created by phan Andy Gadiel at gadiel.com/phish that was the seminal community moment for me.

In 1998, as I was slogging my way through my first job in the corporate world, he created a new message board on his site.  Suddenly, I was provided the opportunity to sit at work all day and spend my time talking about the band I love.  The 23-year-old me couldn’t have been happier, but what started-out as a way to pass the day developed into to something that is still a huge part of my life.

Even back then, there were internet trolls content on causing havoc and they served to disrupt the regular dialogue of regular posters.  Eventually, this core group broke off from the page and formed our own message board.

From there, true friendships blossomed.  And these friendships are some of the closest I have today.  Of course back then, it was more about the partying and enjoying the music, but over time, we became an integrated group that has seen the lows and highs life has to offer and, basically grew-up together.

Looking back now, I realize we were a social network before the term was even coined.  Mind you, the late-90s were still a time when people looked at you like you were nuts when you said you met someone online.  I’ll never forget trying to explain to my parents I was driving to visit friends I met on the Internet.  The response, don’t get killed.  So, thinking how far the public consensus has come in a decade is truly astounding.

Regarding this group of friends, people have come and gone over the years, but we remain a group of I’d say 150, still floating in and out of the conversation.  Personally, I stopped spending a lot of time conversing on the board over the years, but the friendships have carried on even during Phish two breaks.  At this point, Phish shows have become more about the opportunity to connect with friends vs. the music.  And for many of us who are now parents, it’s an excuse to get out for the night. We certainly don’t have the wherewithal to drop everything and jump on tour for a week or two at a time.  But I don’t need that anymore.  There is a certain harmony to know the band is out there still killing it and that at least one of my “Internet” friends is there enjoying it.