Some thoughts on money

I don't care too much for money, money can't buy me love. (Not my original, thanks to the Beatles. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SMwZsFKIXa8) Or should we compare to The Baby's "Money" which goes "The best things in life are free/But you can keep 'em for the birds and bees." (Like two people will know this song so here is the Youtube for this excellent song! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YTirjVo8A0I)

So two things today really irked me about money and I figured this is as good a forum as anything else. Why? Because I can. Why else? Its my blog. Why else? Do I need another reason? No.

First, the California Assembly gave raises to their staffers - again. I know. These folks haven't received raises in a while, haven't had a cost of living adjustment, blah, blah, blah. Don't even give me this nonsense. Let me guess: we need to keep these talented people as well. Right?

Newsflash to the fine folks running the California Assembly: most Californians have not had a raise in years either. It sucks. Its crappy. Its called a recession. Actually, its probably a double dip recession, if not a depression. Do you know what happens in a recession? People lose jobs, pay is cut, benefits are cut. Yep, sucks. Do you know how we get out of a recession? We have to spend our way out of it - not giving our employees raises because they are such good people, but getting consumers to spend money at businesses. That gets business to invest the money and voila, recession starts to turn into gains. Then the economy improves.

Look, its been hard for these people who work for the Assembly. I mean, they must be out there every day using their hands, worrying about where the next paycheck is coming from, wondering how they are going to get health insurance for their families. Oh wait. Sorry. I got those people confused with working Americans. You want it hard? I have clients who live paycheck to paycheck and pay their bills with money orders because they don't want to bounce a check and have so little in their checking account that bouncing a check is possible. I talked to a guy this week who is a supervisor for a construction company and has had to lay off 40% of its employees. Unemployment is over 10% and that doesn't count the people who have just given up looking for a job.

People are out there every day working hard and wondering if their job will still be there in a week. The people who work for the Assembly know that they have a job and its not going anywhere. How do they know this? Because the one thing you can count on - politicians will put themselves last on the list of people who have to take pay cuts, lay off employees or do anything else that will not benefit them. Sad, but true. So these folks don't have the same worries as the rest of us. (Oh, and I don't really count me in there - I am fortunate enough to have a job where I can sit and write this nonsense during the day.)

Memo to the California Assembly: do the right thing and rescind the raises and show the rest of us that you actually care about California and not just your employees. Since these folks won't do anything, let me go to my next money grubbers.

Charities........what? Charities? How can that be? These folks ask for money. Nothing wrong with that, especially if the money is going to a legitimate cause. Breast cancer research or ending MS or helping the homeless. All great causes. I don't have a problem with any of them. So what is my problem?

Have you ever sent these people money? They send you a thank you letter back THAT ASKS FOR MORE MONEY. Yes. Thank you for your generous donation, now send us more money. WTF? How exactly is that supposed to make me feel? I just gave you money. I donated. I did my part, however small it may be. How about you just thank me and leave it at that?

Dear Michael, Thank you so much for the soccer ball for my birthday. I am going to put it up in my office with my other memorabilia. Now, please send me another one. Your friend, Jon

Could you imagine if someone actually sent a thank you card that said that? No. Miss Manners would go into cardiac arrest. Even I would be bugged by it. Yet, more and more charities are doing this and we aren't pissed off? Well, I for one am. Next time I send money to a charity and they ask for more money, I am writing them off and won't give them anything else. Done. Finished. No mas.

By the way, Hala Moddelmog, take a 10% pay cut and Susan G Komen for the Cure will have an extra $50,000 and won't need to ask me for more money. Simple!

MLS in Elk Grove? I think not

I had something real to rant about. I did. Honest. Then I sat down for lunch with my wife. PB&J on wheat bread with a pro-biotic chaser. Not bad. The wife makes the best PB&J sandwiches. So I break out my newspaper and what do I see - a story about my little town. I read said story. Said story is dumb. So here goes my rant.

So the story is this, in a nutshell. Fabian Nunez and some attorney are heading a group that wants to bring a Major League Soccer team to Elk Grove. The City Council is going to vote tonight and exclusive negotiating rights with this group. If you don't know Fabian Nunez, google him. If you don't know Major League Soccer, please stop reading this. Seriously. If you are reading this and you don't know MLS, you really shouldn't read anything I write. Really. I promise.

So where to start? Should we start with Fabian Nunez? Dude was Speaker of the State Assembly. Dude's son killed a guy. Yes, we all make mistakes. I have made plenty. Just ask my wife. But, murder, manslaughter or anything close to it? Not on my list of sins. But, I get it, people screw up.

Dad shouldn't be held responsible for the mistakes of the kid. I get it. I would hope not to be judged by what my kids do. But Fabian, and I can call him Fabian because I have seen him try to play soccer, used his influence to get his son's sentence commuted. That means shortened. Did it in a sneaky way that has generated two lawsuits. I'm sorry. I don't mind if you run out and use your money to hire the best attorney you can find. I would even refer you to a few of them. I don't mind if you hire the experts and pay the money to try to get your son found not guilty. That is our system. Right or wrong, if you have money and you can afford to do it, then you should hire the best person to represent you or your family. Good. Fine. But to use your political influence AFTER THE FACT to try to get your son a reduced sentence is wrong. Flat out wrong.

Look, we all can bust our butts and make money. I don't mind it. We can debate if Nunez ever busted his butt working, ever worked hard for the people of the State of California, ever did anything to earn money. We can debate how much money he has. But if you work hard or are Mark Zuckerberg and steal, er, borrow an idea, you can make money. That is fair game. But we all don't have political connections. We aren't all on a first name basis with the cheating former Governor. We all don't have his cell phone number and we can't get it. Thats playing dirty pool. Sorry. And it sits wrong with 99% of the country.

So, does the City of Elk Grove want to do business with this guy? Lets see we enter into an agreement and he doesnt like something, does he call Jerry Brown to get the new Governor's influence to change the rules? Does he ask the Senate President, who is a good guy even if I disagree with some of his politics, for help in dealing with the City? How on earth can you trust him? Let me guess - because he is a politician. No offense to any politician reading this, but I trust politicians as far as I can throw them, and unless they are on a TLC show called "Little Politician" I can't throw them that far.

But beyond that, MLS in Elk Grove? Really? Major League Soccer? Okay, a few basic points. First, Sacramento could not support the Sacramento Knights, a minor league indoor soccer team. Stockton, our neighbor to the south, could not support the Stockton Cougars, another minor league indoor soccer team. We can barely keep the freaking Kings in Sacramento (although one of their idiot play by play guys is the reason I won't support them). We have lost 2, or is it 3, pro football teams. Heck, San Jose lost the Earthquakes several years ago. Yet, somehow, Elk Grove is going to support professional soccer.

Elk Grove has a mall that hasn't been finished. Elk Grove has a ridiculous number of foreclosures. Elk Grove has unemployment around 10%. Elk Grove schools are struggling. Yet, these people are going to support a professional sports team?

Oh wait, I know, no public money will be used. Sure, and cows will fly over the stadium dropping ice cream to the fans. Chocolate or cookies and cream? Every sports stadium uses some public money.

Oh, I know, things are different here. Really? We can't get our freaking youth soccer leagues to play nicely in this town. I am the biggest soccer fan you will find. Wanna bet? Gladly. Pele autograph jersey in my office - I WIN! End of discussion. But I couldn't get this town to support a fundraiser for breast cancer. Of course, idiot Jon is now going to try a fundraiser for Autism Speaks. Apparently, I don't learn. Literally, I got the mayor out at my game. And that's it. The city? Very little support other than some great small businesses. The local soccer community? No support. At all. Coaches telling players not to come because they might get hurt. Yeah, they might get hurt crossing the freaking street too.

Look, MLS is a great thing. The quality is improving. We have some big names playing. But they can't support MLS in some big cities. What makes anyone think we can support it here? Seriously. Lets politely tell Nunez to take his political influence and shove it. We don't need MLS in Elk Grove. The list of things we need more is staggeringly long. Homes. Jobs. School funding. Support for local businesses. We don't need some washed up politician (who, by the way, would get schooled on the pitch by my 10 year old) and his cronies coming to our town to ruin it. This is a travesty and we should put an end to it now.

Good versus great

I was 16. My dad asked me to drive him to a business dinner. Sure, I said. Okay, fine, I was really like "This is ridiculous. You want me to drive you to dinner and sit there." He offered me food. Good food. And oysters - on the half shell. Who can say no to that? Dinner in La Jolla with all the oysters I could eat for driving him 25 minutes each way. Deal.

I took him there. It was a group of orthodontists. These guys were the best in the country, or so I was told. One was my orthodontist. He fixed my teeth and got to use my mouth in his book. Yep, I have a famous mouth that is in a book about freaking orthodontics.

So I was listening to these guys talk and they all seemed nice enough. They were from all over the country and the dinner conversation blew - big time. But on the way home, I said to my dad "So, what makes the difference between a good orthodontist and these guys?" My dad thought about it for a minute and then said "Lets say a patient comes in at 4:45 and has a problem. The orthodontist has a dinner with his wife at 6. He can do a quick fix and make it to dinner or he can do the right fix, which will take longer, and be late for dinner. The good orthodontist does the quick fix. The great one does the right fix and is late for dinner." Hey, that's pretty simple, I thought. There isn't much difference between good and great.

My dad was probably right. He usually was. Still the smartest guy I ever knew. But, lately, I have learned there is more to it. The story applies to any profession - the plumber who can cap a pipe and fix it later or replace the pipe; the doctor who can draw blood for a blood test or send the patient to the lab; the lawyer who can file the motion and be late or put it off for another day; it goes on and on.

But there is more. What happens when the great orthodontist is faced with a patient who needs a simple fix for $50 or but could have a more complicated fix that will cost $950 and the orthodontist needs to pay the mortgage? Does he do the right fix for $50 or does he make it more complicated to charge more money? What would you do?

It is simple to sit here in theoretical terms and say "I would do the simple fix." But would you? What if the extra $900 was the difference between food on the table for your family or going to the food closet? Sit and think and you will find its harder than it looks.

So, there I sat last week. The mortgage is paid. There is food on the table. But I received a call from someone who might have needed an attorney. We talked. He really wanted to hire me. He thought he needed an attorney. I talked him out of it. Would the money have helped? Absolutely. Would it have been beneficial to my family? Yep. Would I take it? No.

I am not saying I am great. Hell, I am not sure I am good at this most of the time. But I had a choice to make. I made the choice that would let me sleep at night and know I did the right thing. I think my dad would have been proud of me. I hope he would be. It was the right decision. I think I got some strength from knowing I could have taken the money, but didn't. I did the right thing. That's enough for me.

Today

Fuck me. Not literally. Well, unless you are Diane Lane. In which case, feel free. (I am joking.) I don't fucking understand people. I just don't. I am sitting here typing this with a heavy heart and tears in my eyes. Yep, I admit it. I am crying again.

What the fuck is wrong with people? They take a look at one small instance of someone's life and judge them. Suddenly, from 2 hours of meeting with me, you know who I am? Bullshit. You dont know the first thing about me. Why? Because you didn't want to know me. You had your pea-brain mind made up about me before we first met. You were so smug, so smart. You knew everything.

Newsflash: you never know everything and there is always someone smarter than you. Yep. We all have to learn that lesson. I learned it when I thought I was smarter than my dad. I really did. Dude had a PhD in pharmaceutical chemistry and I was so sure I was smarter than him. (It turned out he was flawed though, he couldn't tutor me in high school chemistry where I got a D. Yep, I got a D in high school chemistry with a father who was a research chemist for the first 7 or 8 years of his working life and who had a Ph fucking D.) Turns out, I was wrong. I was so sure I was right. I knew everything. I was 15 years old. Turns out 15 year olds are idiots - a lesson I learned again last night.

So now someone thinks that they are so smart, that they know who I am. I know who I am. I am a father, a husband, a man (as of this week), a son even if my parents arent here anymore, a brother to a sister who has died and a brother who doesnt talk to me, and I am me. I am a good person. Fuck you if you don't believe me. You don't matter to me. I dont fucking care what you think. I did. I admit it. I spent most of the last 2 years caring what you think. A lot of good that did me.

I hurt because I care. I fucking care too much some times. I care about my friends. I care about my family. I care about my clients. That is the death knell of an attorney. We aren't supposed to care. Well, guess what, I do. I get personally invested in their cases. Its why I can't take cases that I don't believe in. Hell, I care about the homeless guy who was sitting outside of Starbucks last week on a cold evening. I bought him a cup of coffee. Its just simply the right thing to do.

So you think of me as the devil. You find me evil. Fine. You don't know who I am. You don't care to know who I am. And quite frankly, you don't deserve to know who I am. I have made mistakes in life. Let me just be perfectly clear about this: I AM SORRY. If I have hurt you, I am sorry. If I have offended you, I am sorry. If I have done something that bothers you, I am sorry. I don't think I make the same mistakes twice though, which means I learn from them.

But those mistakes don't define me. Those mistakes shape me and my successes in life define me. I shouldn't be sitting here today. Not literally. I shouldn't be sitting here as a college graduate or a law school graduate. I got kicked out of the 7th grade. Yep. I made it through high school - barely. My guidance counselor told me not to bother applying. I was on the speech team. Some kid from New Jersey with a funny accent who wasn't outgoing and couldn't talk for 2 minutes. I was told I couldn't make it through law school at night. Hell, I was told I couldnt earn my CPCU. Maybe those people were right. But I persevered. (I saw myself in my youngest son on Saturday when he kept falling down ice skating and kept getting up. The kid was going to skate.)

I am not a failure because of my mistakes. I am not an idiot, a moron, a bad person, the devil, evil incarnate or anything else. I am a father. And while I screw up, I try. I am a husband, and while I know I screw up as a husband, I try. Look, I didn't have the world's greatest role model. (You think that doesn't hurt to say?) But he tried like his dad before him. My dad wasn't around a lot. I learned from him. So I screw up, but I try. I try hard. No man in my family has ever claimed to be perfect at parenting or being a husband. Hell, I wasnt even a great son, and that should be pretty easy.

But I am true to myself. I know what I stand for. I believe in all of those things that we think are idiotic. I believe in our system of justice. I sure as hell know today that our justice system works better than other systems. I believe in people. I think people are generally good. I believe that if we all did one good thing a week, the world would be a better place.

So, fuck me right now because I am feeling sorry for myself. This too will end. And probably before another hour passes. I do know that I am a generally good person who stands up for what he believes him. I know that I generally put other people first, whether I should or not, I don't know. I know that I care, that I love, that I try. So, get to know me before you make bold pronouncements of who I am. And then if you still dont like me, fuck you.

Choices in Life

Sometimes in life we have to make choices that suck. We come to the proverbial fork in the road and we have to choose. I know this better than most since I studied economics in college. Its basically the study of decision making. Its just that sometimes what you want to do and what you need to do are two different things.

Every day, we make tons of decisions. Do I talk to person A or do I let their call go to voice mail? Do I respond to the all caps, yelling email or do I hit the delete button? Do I yell at the asshole on the other end of the phone or do I let them continue yelling?

Then there are more important choices. Do you go visit a loved one in the hospital? (YES! Trust me.) Do you protect your kid from all of the evils in the world or let them learn that there are bad people or people who do bad things?

I am at that fork in the road. Its tough. I sit here today sad. Not sad for making the decision I am going to make. I know I have to. Sad because of the circumstances that have put me in this position.

I am a fighter by nature. I want to prove I am right at all costs. I want to kick the crap out of people, not literally, but figuratively. My high school guidance counselor told me I wouldn't get accepted to college. I did. I graduated in 4 years. Fuck her. My first boss out of college told me I shouldn't bother trying to earn my CPCU designation. 10 tests, 3 years later (I had to meet the minimum years of working requirement) I flew to San Diego to attend the ceremony. Thanks for giving me the motivation to prove you are an idiot.

My first practice test in law school I failed. Yep, I failed. I didn't have a clue as to what I was doing. I made crap up. Literally. Turns out that wasn't such a good way to go. 4 years of working, kids, and law school later I managed to graduate. Here I sit a month and 5 days from my 8 year anniversary of running my own firm. I guess I did know a thing or two.

But I also love. I care. I know there is hurt in the world. I can't fix it. I tried. Trust me, I have tried. I failed that. My soccer event? We raised over $6,000 and all I got from Susan G Komen was a thank you note WITH A REQUEST FOR MORE MONEY. I guess I failed in making the world a little better by our small donation to cure breast cancer, which, by the way, should go fuck off. I have tried to use the law to help the little guy, not literally as on TLC, but figuratively. I thought I could make a difference. Turns out, there is only so much you can do.

I have 4 kids. My 3 boys and my baby girl. I have a wife. That's it. That's my family now. I tried to wish my brother a happy birthday and he ignored me. Fine. I promised my mom before she died that I would make an effort. I will keep trying to make an effort. Its tilting at windmills, I think, but I promised my mom I would do it so I will keep doing it. Color me a fucking idiot.

So I now look at things differently. I have to do what is best for the 5 people who count on me, not necessarily for me. I want to stay and fight. I want to prove a point. I want to stand up and say "Fuck you. I am not the devil incarnate." But I can't and I won't. How can I when I know my oldest son needs someone to stand up for him and I have to be here to do that? He doesn't even know that he needs me to do that for him. But if not me (and my wife), then who? How can I when mini-me needs direction? He thinks he knows everything at 10. I thought I knew everything at 10. My dad was there to remind me I didn't. How can I when my youngest son looks up to me more than I knew until yesterday? He is my father, who he was named after, in so many ways. He needs me to pass on the wisdom from my dad to him so he can pass it on. How can I when my miracle baby always has a hug and a smile? Every single frickin day. She wakes up and says "Daddy." She is my angel. I don't know how she came to be, but I know she needs daddy. How can I when my wife needs me to deal with 4 kids, two of whom are challenging to say the least? We work together a team. We aren't always perfect. We aren't even always great. We have our rough patches. But we seem to always pull through when no one expects us to. We have our support system and those people are there for us on days like today when life blows.

So you win. I will make the hard decision and do what needs to be done. Not what I want to do, but what I HAVE to do. What my family needs me to do. You know, I think today, when I do this, I am becoming a man. It wasn't when I turned 13 or 18 or 21. It sure as hell wasn't sex. It wasn't when I moved out, got married, or even had kids. It wasn't when I graduated from college. It wasn't when I got a job or a 2nd job or a 3rd job or even when I went to work for myself. No, I feel my dad looking down on me today and saying "Good job, son. (He always called me son.) Today, you did what a man does. Instead of doing what you want to do, you did what you had to do for your family. Today you are a man."

So, dear fuckers, you win this time. I am going to do it. But I promise you, this isn't the end. My friends judge me not on what you say about me, but on what they see in me. My family loves me not for your contorted, messed up views of me, but for who I am. Anyone who thinks that what you say is more important than my actions doesn't need to be in my life. So judge away. Make your noble pronouncements. I hope you feel better about your lowly life. Because today I became a man and you became stepping stone for me to be a better person. I won't ever forget this day and I won't ever be the same. I will now be a better person. So thank you for that. And I will see you next time - on my terms.

WTF is wrong with the world

What the hell is going on these days? Seriously, is Mercury in retrograde. Is Venus aligned with the Planet Formerly Known as Pluto? Er, the rock mass formerly known as a planet known as Pluto? Are the earth's bamboo trees turned backwards to bring bad luck?

Smokin' Joe Frazier dies. Joe Paterno is forced out at Penn State. These things happen. We know that. Life is a cycle. We are born, we live, we fuck up, we learn from our fuck ups, we make new fuck ups, we learn from those fuck ups, then we die. Its the life cycle. Frazier was at the end of it. Paterno was nearing the end but had a fuck up. A major one. Gigantic. I hope he learned from it. I hope we all learned from this.

I don't get the world. I know this cycle happens. But I see bitterness. I hear it on the radio. I can't turn on anything and listen to it with my kids in the car. Celebrity divorces. Kids being molested. Adults standing by and doing nothing. Greece failing. Italy close behind. Occupy Everything.

(Okay, I get Occupy Wall Street. I get Occupy San Francisco or Phoenix or San Diego or any other big city. But Occupy Elk Grove is idiotic. Occupy Yreka? I can't even pick out Yreka on a map - and neither can you. And its not funny to put Occupy in front of any word. Occupy Cold Stone Creamery? You just sound like a moron. Occupy The Internet? Really? How about you just occupy your own little space on the planet and try to make that place a better place.)

I am confused. I dont have the answers. I did read a proverb once that said something like dont just teach your children yourself because they grow up in a different time. My dad used to say something like that. He would tell me that each generation has it harder than the next. My grandparents grew up with World War I and the Great Depression. My dad had World War II and the sixties. My generation: drugs, AIDS, war after war (er, conflict after conflict). My kids grow up hearing about September 11, but not quite understanding. And who knows what else is out there.

So, I admit it. I dont know what is wrong with the world. I do know a few things.

Don't judge others until you have walked at least half a mile in their shoes. Its easy to sit down and look back at decisions people made and question them. But try being in the moment and making some of those decisions. Some work out. Some don't. But don't sit there after the fact and tell me that you think I made bad decisions because I am a bad person. That is simply wrong.

Life is hard. Yep, it is hard. Its hard at 2 when you need someone to change your diaper. Its hard at 7 when you have to go to school. Its hard at 13 when you go through puberty. Its hard at 18 when you start college. Its hard at 22 when you have to get a real job. Its hard at 30 and 35 and 40. And sometimes your life is harder than the person next to you. But, its probably also easier than the guy sleeping on the street, the guy who lost a leg fighting in a war, or the mom who lost a baby. We need to remember that.

Give back. I don't mean money. You can do that. You can give time. You can give of yourself. I am a big fan of The Untied Way. (Google it or go read my posts from December, 2010.) But you like baseball? Go find a group and teach them how to play. You know how to paint? Go teach someone. The world would be a better place if everyone gave back a few hours a week.

Love one another. I know its a cliche. Sorry. You don't like it? Don't read it. I dont write this for you anyway. If people would just stop being so negative, so mean, and get to know each other and show some fucking compassion, some understanding, everything would be better. I don't get all the hate and anger in the world. I know I am to play. I hate some debt collectors. But I am going to vow to work on that and be nicer to everyone who calls me, be it a client, another attorney or a debt collector or insurance adjuster. I am going to kill them with kindness.

You don't like me? Fine. Thats your fucking loss, you douche. Because while I am not perfect, I am not the devil either. I screw up. I make mistakes. But I am going to help you when you need it. I don't turn my back on friends. I don't leave people out there who are in need. Its sometimes bad for business. It sometimes gets me burned. But I am tired of the fucking nonsense and bullshit and judging that goes on. Cant we be nice to each other for a change?

Now, I am going to get some Giant Pandas, which might be my favorite animals of all time, and see if they can fix the bamboo. Then I am going to call Virgin Atlantic and ask them to send their fancy rocket ship into space to turn Mercury or do whatever you have to do so its not in retrograde. Then I am going to leave you with this: RIP Smokin Joe and lets all say a prayer for the kids who were hurt at Penn State and Joe Paterno, for whatever mistakes he made, he also helped hundreds, thousands of kids over the last 46 years.

On Regrets

I was driving home today and saw a double rainbow. Ever see a double rainbow? Of course you have. You haven't seen the leprechaun at the end of the rainbow. He doesn't exist. But you have seen a double rainbow. Its not like its that uncommon.

Anyway, I was driving home and saw a double rainbow. Then I had the SiriusXM on the radio and heard some songs from my youth. Fine, I was listening to 80s on 8. Its all of my youth. Remember, it was 1st grade through high school for me. So it pretty much covered my childhood. I don't remember what song came on. Maybe it was when I was flipping back to "terrestrial radio" and heard an ad for Gordon Lightfoot. (If you don't know who he is, listen to his best song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jqMG3VR5PP4) Anyway, whatever it was, made me think of my childhood. Then I thought about what regrets I have had in the last almost 40 years.

I decided I have two regrets. Regret 1: I didn't get down to San Diego when my dad was in the hospital 9 years ago. He called me a few days after my birthday. He was in the hospital with a stomach obstruction. (Okay, so it wasn't quite the stomach, but you don't want the details.) The message was that he would be out in a day. It wasn't that big of a deal. Its worse. Not only did I not go down there, I didn't call back. And what happened? He died. You want a regret in life? Don't get back to see your parent before he/she dies when you know they are in the hospital. Sucks is an understatement. Fucking sucks is an understatement. The crappiest feeling in the world? Not even close to how this feels. So that is my biggest regret.

Regret 2: Not standing up for myself when I was younger. Nothing specific here. Just not standing up for myself when I had the chance. I could have on numerous occasions. I didn't. Ever. Those of you who know me now are probably surprised that I didn't speak up. But I didn't. Lack of self confidence? Being short enough to have my own TLC show? I don't know what it was. But I do know I didn't stand up for myself. Kind of sucks. A lot. I wish I had.

Of course, now I stand up for the little people, and no, not the people on that crappy TLC show. Those people make enough money for exploiting their lack of height that I don't really consider them the little people anymore. Anyone say 1%? I stand up for the people who have no one else who stands up for them. I think this is why. I finally figured it out. I stand up for people who are being taken advantage of by others. So I guess something good came out of regret 2, although I still wish I had done it.

As for regret 1, I learned from my mistake. When my mom called me and said she was dying, I flew down to San Diego. I wasn't going to make that same mistake twice. I couldn't live with myself if I did. So I guess something good came out of that as well. Although, its a crappy lesson to have to learn for oneself.

So there you go. Two regrets. Nothing more, nothing less. I did things I am not proud of. I have hurt people I love. I have hurt people I care about. I haven't always made the right decision. But I don't regret those things. I learned from them. I grew as a person. I am sorry if you are reading this and you are one of the people I hurt. I do apologize. But I do not have regrets. I am moving forward with these two regrets which will shape my life more than I could have known at the time.

Adults ruin things

I am in a bad mood and short on time. And then I am sitting down at my computer and I come across this: http://rivals.yahoo.com/highschool/blog/prep_rally/post/Top-soccer-team-booted-from-playoffs-for-strange?urn=highschool-wp7674

What the fuck is wrong with adults? Seriously. So this team from NY, the Holland High Dutchwomen, went 15-2 this year in their season. Thats a pretty impressive record in high school, college, or at Under 10. However, they dont qualify to play in the NY state tournament. Why? I mean, 15-2 they should be seeded like 1st or 2nd, right? WRONG!

You see, some egghead in NY decided varsity teams cannot play more than 16 games in a season. An honest mistake was made by the Holland High Athletic Department. The girls played 17 games. So what is the proper punishment? A ban from the postseason. Seriously? Who comes up with these bullshit rules?

You know what the punishment is? Its supposed to fit the "crime." The crime was playing an extra game. Change their record to 14-2 and give one of their opponents an extra win. Easy. Drop their seed so they aren't seeded 1st and they are seeded 5th. Fine. Explain to them that a mistake was made and they still get to play BECAUSE THE GIRLS DID NOTHING WRONG.

I mean this is a joke. Who is in charge in NY? Oh, I know. Some guy who makes too much money at his job, has a ridiculous pension, and has never played organized sports a day in his life. How do I know this? Because anyone who has played organized sports knows that you want a chance to prove you are the best. Win, lose or draw, you want your shot. And, whoever wins the postseason "championship" wins it knowing that they didn't play Holland High.

How would that feel? Congratulations, East West High of NY. You won but one of the best teams in the state didn't get a chance to play in the tournament so we don't really know how good you are. You might be the best. But the girls from Holland might be better. We dont know and we will never know.

I dont care if you go to Holland High, or like me, you don't know where Holland High is located. I don't think I could pick it out on a map of NY with only two places listed and one of them being Manhattan. I know that as a competitor, an athlete, I want to play the best. I want to show I am the best. Isnt that what this should be about?

Sure, lets get on the Holland High administrators. Maybe they think 15+2 is 16 in that new math that they teach. Fine. 10 lashes with a wet noodle for them. Maybe they think that no one would catch on. Maybe they just plain old fucked up. I am fine with that and with some sort of "punishment" for the adults. But to sit here and punish these girls for something they didn't do is simply wrong. Plain and simple. The state of NY should get its act together and let these girls play.

By the way, go "like" their facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Justice-for-Holland-Girls-Varsity-Soccer/256170881101445#!/pages/Justice-for-Holland-Girls-Varsity-Soccer/256170881101445 And if you are up to it, email the jackasses who are ruining it for these girls.

Some thoughts - just thoughts

I dont know sometimes. I am sitting here in my kitchen, sad, alone. Physically alone. I have friends and family and they are great. But sometimes I still feel alone. Part of that is me. I dont open up very well. I know. Its a character flaw. Part of it is life. I just dont want to talk about everything. Thats why I have this.

So I sit here sad. My stomach hurts. My head hurts. I probably have the flu. I know I have stress. Tums tastes like crap. I have music playing, but idiot Jon decides it would be good to listen to depressing music. Yep, thats me. When you are sad, of course you should listen to sad music. What fucking kind of idiot am I? I dont know. Maybe I wouldnt be sad if I listened to upbeat music. Hmmm.....I should try that some day. Not now. Some day.

I guess its insecurity. I wish it wasnt, but it is. It has to be. Am I going to fail? How badly am I going to fail? Was my fucking high school guidance counselor right? Should I have joined the Army and not gone to college? Was my dad right? Did it matter that I didnt know what I wanted to do with my life at 14, 15, 16? Hell, I didnt know what I wanted to do with my life at 24, 25, 26.

I dont know why I do what I do. I practice law because I like helping people. A friend of mine said I do God's work. I dont know about that. Maybe I do have a Napolean syndrome. Maybe growing up short made me want to show people I am some big tough guy. But Im not. I get that. Its not me. I can huff and puff with the best of them. Dont get me wrong. But I dont want to. I dont need to show someone that I have a bigger dick.

I am sensitive. I care. Its a fucking flaw in an attorney. I know that. Youre not supposed to care about your clients. Youre supposed to be a jackass who is cold and calculating and can show everyone what a smart guy you are. My problem: I aint that smart. Fuck, I was smart I wouldnt listen to the Commodores or Dan Fogelberg when I am not in a great mood. Well, maybe I am not a compete idiot since I did just change the music to Eminem. Yep, I admit it, I like white rappers. The guy may have other issues in life, but he can put together a song.

I guess we all have issues. I dont know what your issues are. I dont know that I need to know. Maybe its none of my business. I know I dont share my issues. 3, 4, 5 people maybe. Men in my family dont discuss our problems. I guess its my dad's fault or his dad's fault. Its just not what we do. We keep it inside.

So, I admit it, I keep things in me. And there are times they come out. Maybe its not the best time. I do know that I speak with passion when these things are inside me. I have been told by other attorneys it comes across as caring too much, being emotional. But is that so bad? Its me. Its how I am. I remember my closing argument in every case. Not word for word, but I do remember how they went. Every one of them had some emotion in it. Is that so bad?

Does this make me soft? Does it make me a wuss? I dont know. I leave that to other people. You only get one shot. Yes, I stole that from Eminem. It came on and it seemed to fit.

So, fine, lets say I am soft, or emotional or whatever? So what? Does that make me weak? Does it come across like you can bully me? I dont know. Maybe. I guess I have never cared enough about what other people think. I know who I am. I am the short bald guy who cares, thinks that there is actually good and evil in the world, and believes at the end of the day, if you do the right thing, you can fuck up quite a bit, but you still come out okay.

I also know I fight. A lot. I dont want to. I am more than happy to get along with everyone, resolve differences and move on with life. I like that. It makes my life so much easier. But fuck with me and try to bully me and I push back. I just do. Its how I am wired. Maybe its from growing up. Maybe its from not standing up for other people when I was growing up. Maybe its just that I really am a jackass. I dont know.

All I know is I am tired of people assuming that my caring, my emotion is a sign of weakness. I am sure its not. Its a sign of me. Its a sign that I am comfortable with who I am, what I am. I genuinely believe that people are good. I genuinely believe people should get a second chance. I genuinely believe that we all fuck up. You dont think you do? Really? I know my fuck ups can't be counted on one hand, two hands, or 100 hands. Hell, most of my first 16 years were screw ups. I accept that. Its my fault.

That doesnt make me a bad person. Someone I know recently admitted to making a mistake and didnt seem to be getting a second chance. Thats wrong. To err is human, right? Well, to err is human and to learn from your mistakes makes you a damn good person.

I guess I need some sort of end to this. Some sort of resolution. I dont think I have it. I think my resolution is this: I am going to go forward for the next 38 years (a man can hope, right?) and learn from the mistakes I have made over the last 38 years. I am not perfect. I am not a saint. I am a man, a flawed man. I will continue to make mistakes. I will continue to learn from them. I will NOT make the same mistake twice. I will continue to care. I will continue to believe people are good. I will continue to believe people should get a 2nd chance, a 3rd chance, even. I will continue to defend what I think is right, to do what I think is right, and to stick up for those who can't stand up for themselves. And if you continue to push me, to bully me, to try to take advantage of me, I will push back, hard. It may not always be the perfect response, but its how I am wired. Maybe that is the one mistake I wont learn from, but I dont see it as a mistake, I see it as me. While I will apologize when I am wrong, I will not apologize for being me.

Mental Illness and Idiots

Dear Grant Napear:

You are an idiot. Not just any idiot, a fucking dumbass idiot. You talk without knowing anything. You seem to think you are smart, which makes you even dumber. I am pretty sure Patrick "We make a lot of money, but we spend a lot of money" Ewing is smarter than you.

So, on tonight's "show" and I use that word loosely, Dumbass was talking about Brandon Marshall. Now, Brandon Marshall plays in the National Football League. He plays wide receiver for the Miami Dolphins. To borrow from the basketball players, dude can ball. But, he has had some issues. Turns out, he is suffering from borderline personality disorder. What is that? Good question. NAMI, the National Alliance on Mental Illness, describes it here: http://www.nami.org/Template.cfm?Section=By_Illness&Template=/TaggedPage/TaggedPageDisplay.cfm&TPLID=54&ContentID=44780

So Brandon Marshall made a comment tonight. From ESPN:

"I'm not joking. I'm serious," Marshall told the South Florida Sun Sentinel. "They're going to fine me. It's probably going to be like a $50,000 fine. But that quarter and a half that I'm out there, I'm going to play like a monster.

"I might get in a fight with Bart Scott. (Antonio) Cromartie, we pretty much matured our relationship and grew a little bit. We used to fight in Denver and San Diego. If that happens, it happens, so we'll see."

So dude is saying he is going to get in a fight and is going to get kicked out of the game. Not the best thing to say. He is part of a team. It takes all 11 of them to win. That's kind of how team sports work. And if you want to win, you play as a team. I think we all know that. Brandon Marshall getting thrown out would not be a good thing for his team.

Now that you have the background, Douche-pear, er, Napear, gets on his "Grant's Rants," which is just a poor ripoff of Jim Rome's entire show, and goes on and on about how Marshall is an idiot and dumb. So I sent a text explaining Marshall has a mental illness and this idiot reads it and then says that if its true (and its a FUCKING FACT that anyone who knows about sports knows) then maybe Marshall shouldn't be playing in the NFL.

Whoaa Nellie............because someone has a mental illness they shouldn't be allowed to play professional sports? Let me guess, they shouldn't be lawyers or doctors or construction workers or anything else, right? Is this the 1930s? Should we put people with mental illness in rooms with padded walls?

Lets analyze this for a minute. Is having a mental illness different than being a minority of any other kind? Is it any different than being black, brown, yellow, red or blue? Is it different than being gay? Is it different than being a woman? Do we really think that these things are any different than having a mental illness? Do we think Brandon Marshall or anyone else with a mental illness has chosen to have it? These folks do not wake up one day and say "Gosh, I wish I was bipolar today." Or, "Hmmm......being OCD sounds like a good plan for this week." You are born with mental illness.

We don't limit what other people can do. If Brandon Marshall can play in the NFL with mental illness, then hats off to him. Dude should be a role model. You, too, can have a mental illness and still be at the pinnacle of your profession. There are 32 NFL teams. Each one has 5 receivers, maybe. So this guy is one of the best 150 in the WORLD at what he does. And he does it while fighting something that most of us can never understand. We are going to say he shouldnt do that? We are going to say he is dumb or an idiot? I am not going to.

I don't get it. I really dont. Why does some local, full of crap radio DJ, and he is a DJ, a glorified sit around and talk to yourself DJ, think its okay to call this guy names? I mean, if we are going to think snaps is how we want to deal with this, then I say we start with piece of crap local DJs. For example, Napear is so dumb that he can't figure out how to pronounce his own fucking name. It used to be "Na-pee-ar." Now it is "Na-peer." No, dude, you are so bad, you don't have any peers. Go back to Na-pee-ar. Actually, drop the Na and the ar and you are at the right spot. After all, you say some of the dumbest shit I have heard in my adult life and you get paid for it. I am still trying to figure out why.

You know, I used to look at people with mental illness and shake my head. Then, I became a father to a kid with mental illness. I actually had to grow up and stop pretending I was smarter than everyone else. It hit me - life is hard for some people. My kid says things that don't make sense. He says things that make me cringe sometimes. But he doesnt know better. His brain doesn't work like ours. I get that now. Its not because he is dumb, an idiot or needs someone to tell him what to say. Its because he is himself. I wouldnt trade him for the world. I sure as hell wouldnt trade him for some piece of shit New Yorker who still thinks its the 1950s and doesnt understand modern society - and that New Yorker's fake attitudes disappeared 10 years ago.

We can only hope that one day this loudmouth, no good, glorified DJ will grow up, get some stones, and learn about things before he starts running his horse mouth. Maybe he should grow up and stop being such a whining douche.

Or, as is more likely, he probably will continue his stupid show and make his dumb comments because his bosses don't have the balls to call him out and stand up for those people who can't stand up for themselves. Wusses!

A dragon lives forever

but not so little boys. If you don't understand, go watch this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qu_rItLPTXc Even if you do understand, go watch that.

I know. I know. Its a song about drugs. Or so everyone says. Paper is rolling paper for joints. Dragon doesnt mean dragon - it means dragging on a joint. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Save it. I havent believed that in the last 30 years and you arent going to convince me now.

Ironic, isnt it? A song about the loss of innocence and here I stand trying to believe in the song's actual meaning. Maybe if I lose my belief in Puff and its meaning, then I lose something too. I dont know. Maybe, and there is strong evidence to support this, I am a fucking idiot. I am pretty sure you can find half a dozen people who agree with that. Or half a million.

I dont know. I hold these truths to be self evident: people are good; people try; people care; good beats evil; truth prevails over lies; good people make mistakes; people can change; people deserve a second chance, and sometimes a third.

I also know Everlast was right: I've seen a rich man beg/I've seen a good man sin/I've seen a tough man cry/I've seen a loser win/And a sad man grin/I heard an honest man lie/I've seen the good side of bad/And the down side of up/And everything between

Sometimes we think that life can only have heartbreak. It can have pain. It can suck. But I think we forget about Puff. Puff enjoyed life because he frolicked. When is the last time we frolicked? Thankfully, I frolicked last night with my baby. Fine, shes my toddler. She is always going to be my baby.

One day, for each of us, Jackie Paper has to grow up. But not now. At least, I hope not now.

More on Fathers and Sons

(This is unedited and I held back on the language, but it involves death so there is some profanity. If that offends you, stop reading here.)

Today is 9 years since I got that phone call. Its one of those calls that you know is bad when the phone rings. I was 29. I didn't know what to do or how I was supposed to react. So I cried. A lot. I can't think of too many things that rank up there with losing one's father for a man. Losing mom......losing a spouse......losing a child. Those all suck. Losing a father sucks a lot.

I know I am not the first to lose a dad in my 20s. I know I won't be the last. I get it. There are people who have dad die when they are 5, 8, 10, 12, whatever. I am sure it sucks then too. I don't know. I can only speak of my experiences and what I have learned.

We dropped off the kids and flew to San Diego. I got there and had to help out my mom pick out a casket. Talk about creepy. Casket "shopping" is absurd. Who the hell likes that crap? We had a funeral the next day. Somehow, some way, I made it through the funeral. I guess its an honor to be a pall bearer.............but I don't know. It sucks. You don't really want to be a pall bearer because it means someone close has died. After all, has a stranger's family ever asked you to be a pall bearer? I doubt it.

After the funeral, we went back to my mom's house. I had to answer the phone when someone called. They asked for my dad. It hurt so much to have to say he had died. Its one of those things that you always remember. People came and were nice. They wanted to share stories. I wanted nothing to do with it. Then I had to listen to my aunt, my mom's sister, talk about how this was a blessing, how he wasn't suffering anymore.

Don't ever fucking say that to anyone. There is someone, somewhere who doesn't think its a blessing. Maybe you do. Maybe someone else does. I swear there is someone who doesn't think its a blessing. And if you do say that, the person who doesn't find it a blessing has my permission to kick the living crap out of you.

How the fuck was this a blessing for me? I was 29. I had just graduated from law school. I had two kids - who knew two more were on the way? Worse of all, I didn't return my dad's last call to me. Yep, that's me, the fuck up who didn't pick up the phone to call my dad back when he left me a message from the hospital. Why not? Why the hell would I? My whole life, my dad had Parkinson's. He was in the hospital for all kinds of weird things, including hurting his back sleeping on a bed. Seriously. This was some stomach blockage. He was supposed to be discharged. It wasn't a big deal. Then he had a heart attack - and gone. Just like that. No chance to talk to him, no chance to say goodbye. Nothing.

We had a little service, I guess, at the retirement home. People came and talked more, hugged, and drank. It was a celebration of a guy who made friends everywhere he went. I can't think of one person who didn't like my dad.

So I think about that a lot. And this year, its my year to make September better. So maybe the guilt should be gone. Maybe its time to say it: I fucked up. I can never get that time back. Its my biggest regret in life. I own it. I did it. No one else made me. In my list of fuck ups in my life, and I have some doozies, there is none bigger than this one. I should have picked up the damn phone, dialed his number and talked to him. It doesn't matter if I had nothing to say. It doesn't matter if he wanted to ask me about his computer, which he usually did, or his fantasy football team or the fucking weather, 70 and sunny in San Diego 300 days out of the year. None of that matters. I should have picked up the fucking piece of crap phone and called him. I didn't. Its my fault. I get it.

So what have I learned? I don't know. I was out on the soccer field today. The weather was nice. Cool, a bit of sun. Green grass. White lines. And I was thinking what the hell am I doing out here? I am 38 years old. I have one screwed up knee and one on the way. I am old. I am out of shape since I can't exercise with my bad knee. I am way over matched by these 20 somethings who come out there, are faster, bigger, stronger, and younger.

But, its my connection to my dad. And its all I have left. As long as I am on the field, playing the way he taught me to play, I have some connection. At some point, it will end. I know. I can't play forever. 10 years? 12 years? Maybe less, maybe a few more.

But today we were out there playing. Last 5. I was tired. I was sore. I didn't feel so good. And it didn't matter. For 9 years, I have picked up a piece of grass, kissed it and thrown it into the air. (Yeah, make fun of it, I dare you. A guy did a few years ago in our pick up league. 10 yards I sent him on a clean shoulder charge.) Its my thing. We called last 5 and I did it again today. The other team didn't score. I could feel my dad there with me.

I know. Its crazy. He wasn't there. He isn't there anymore. He can't be. But he is. And not just on the soccer field.

I know he is there when I am with my kids. I know he is there when I am in court. Sometimes, when a debt collector is really pissing me off, he is there. He is there when I am up speaking in front of a group. He encouraged me in my speech and debate. He was there when the damn Toyota Lexus won my first extemporaneous speech tournament.

He also taught me a lot of things and he is there with me when I remember those. He taught me that each generation should try to do better than the prior. Its why he valued education so much. My grandparents weren't educated. My grandfather sold toilet fixtures then worked on bombs in WWII. Then back to selling toilets. My dad put himself through school - bachelor's, masters and a PhD in pharmaceutical chemistry. I think 3 people know what that is.

(As an aside, the guy knew more about chemistry than anyone else I know. He couldn't teach me freaking high school chemistry. I barely passed. Dang good thing the teacher was 25, cute and I wanted her to think I was smart. But he could calculate present value in his head but couldn't teach me how to make H20.)

He passed on the value of education to me. Bachelor's degree, CPCU, law school. He saw me graduate. He talked to me after I took the bar exam. He never saw me sworn in as an attorney. He never had the chance to watch me practice law. Of course, there is a negative side to this. I could never have gone into business. I didn't want to have to compete with his legacy. Stupid, yes. But that is how I saw it.

Now, pushing 40, I look back and I realize its not a competition in terms of who makes more money, who has more things. He wanted me to learn from his mistakes. He was gone a lot. He traveled for business and wasn't home for more than 2 weeks at a time until I was in high school. I realize that there is more to being successful than making money. You have to figure out how you define a success and then reach for that. So while I will never have a PhD in anything, while I will never invent anything or have any patents or buy any companies, I don't need to. I realized that doing better means being there for my kids. Being around for them when they need me. Spending time with them doing things that they like - acting class, dance class, boy scouts, whatever.

He taught me that each generation also has it harder than the prior. My grandparents dealt with the great depression. My parents dealt with the cold war. My generation has Iraq, 9/11, drugs in school. My kids have issues that I haven't even figured out yet. But I could talk to my dad about these things. At first, we talked when he drove me to high school. Then we talked when I would come home from college for visits. Then over a game of pool at the retirement community. I know its my obligation to find that time with my kids.

He taught me to enjoy life. He always told me that if we got an inheritance it would be because he died before he could spend it all. I thought he was joking, but you never really knew. I remember he fired his first financial planner in San Diego. The guy was a jackass, but that isn't why he was fired. He was fired because he told my dad to stop buying diamonds. Yep. He thought my dad shouldn't buy my mom diamonds. My dad fired him. He had his toys. He went from his dream car, an 84 Corvette to a Chrysler LeBaron convertible with a 5.0 engine AND a turbo. Yeah, that thing went fast. Then a 72 Buick Skylark - that went faster. He liked his fast cars and his toys.

He passed that on to me. I don't know whether it was driving the LeBaron in high school and going way too fast, or driving that Skylark cross country with my dad and my brother. Somewhere along the way, he passed on his love of cars to me. He didn't work on them. He just admired them - and drove them. Delaware is still a blur when he and I were driving alone to a soccer tournament in the Corvette. I like my toys. I admit it. I got that from him. I realize, especially now, that life is too short. You should enjoy it. I don't buy into this idea that you should buy some $10,000 car if you really want, and can afford, the $20,000 car. Get it if you can afford it and enjoy it. I assure you my dad enjoyed everything he had and hasn't enjoyed anything in the last 9 years. He can't.

So here I am - 9 years almost to the hour when my dad passed away. I have learned that I have to go back to San Diego. I need to revisit some of those places that I enjoyed with my dad. I made some progress this year. In June, I took my kids to Nick's at the Beach, a place my dad loved, Del Mar beach, where I learned to boogie boards on Wednesday nights in the summer while he bbq'd with his friends. I visited the cemetery. I drove past my old house, past his retirement community.

And I sit and cry sometimes. Not often. I still miss him, but I have learned that its part of life. We live, we grow, we die. Those of us who live have to remember those of us who died and the lessons we learned. I am going to pass on those lessons to my kids and try to let the guilt go.

I miss you dad. I love you dad. I know someway, somehow, you are up there and looking out for me. I appreciate that and I hope I make you proud. I love you.

On birthdays and aging

Am I better off dead?
Am I better off a quitter?

With apologies to The Script. Birthdays are odd. I recently had one. It was my first since my mom passed away. Odd that it got to me a bit. She hasn't called me on my birthday in 5 or 6 years. She just hasn't. We weren't that close. I loved her. She loved me. We didn't talk on birthdays. Heck, she didn't call me on Fathers Day. Why? Because I wasn't her father. Odd, but that is how we were.

So it felt odd on my birthday. She wasn't there. Not that it was different, but it was different. It felt odd. It felt strange. My wife did a great job making it a good day and I did my best to make it a good day. But it was off.

Getting older sucks. I am now pushing 40 - closely. 40 seems old. Not old like I need to go to a nursing home. But old like are my days on the pitch numbered? Am I going to be able to run anymore? I know I can, but it hits me as odd that time is passing me.

I have been more nostalgic lately. I have thought back about my childhood, about growing up. When I was getting frozen yogurt, or frogen yozurt as it was called at Penguins when I was in high school, I heard a song that my parents used to listen to. I was 14. We were driving to Las Vegas. It was my first trip there. Circus Circus.

And I have been thinking about the future. With apologies to Live: I don't need no one to tell me about heaven/I look at my daughter, and I believe. I see my kids and I see a future. I see Brooklyn, my little miracle. I see Miles, he was born after my dad passed away, but he is my dad - or as close as possible. I see Kyle, my mini-me, who doesn't share my DNA, but I now know how I frustrated my parents so much.

And I see Tyler. He missed my birthday. For the first time since 2000, I didn't have my first born with me. I miss him. I love him. And he wasn't here. And it sucks. It sucks beyond words.

It was an interesting birthday. There was good - it was better than in the last several years. But it was sad, my mom was gone and Tyler wasn't with me. I think, though, that this sums it up best:

Every memory of walking out the front door
I found the photo of the friend that I was looking for
It's hard to say it
Time to say it
Goodbye, Goodbye
Goodbye

Yeah, I have those photos, and even the ones that aren't on paper, aren't on the computer, they are in a place where they can't be destroyed by water, by fire, by a crashed computer. My mind. I still see my birthday party at McDonalds. I still see my first birthday with Tyler. Those are the memories I will remember as my 30s end, my 40s begin.

And despite what those sports guys say, my soccer days aren't over yet.

On Soccer

I played my weekly soccer game today. Its nothing formal. Just a group of guys (sometimes women, but not often) who get together on Sunday afternoon and play soccer. It may be 3 on 3 or 4 or 4 or 10 on 10. We play with small goals and no goalies. Its a pretty diverse group ranging from late teens to over 50. I was thinking about soccer while we played.

Its such a simple game. You use any part of your body other than your hands (and arms) to get the ball into your opponent's goal. Each goal is 1 point. Its not like tennis with scoring that makes no sense (Love, 15, 30, 40 - apparently they can't count) or football (try explaining the scoring to someone who has never watched the game before - not rocket science, but you can score more times and still lose). Its easy. Anyone can play. Unlike baseball, you don't need special equipment. We have played with a ball and bags for goals. Its a simple game.

And it affects your life. I grew up playing soccer. I still email and correspond with some of those guys. We are friends on facebook and we share memories of growing up playing. Remember that time Dean dropped me on my head? We had the shortest team I think ever for our age. And, I am not sure I was the shortest - Adam may have been shorter. We had birthday parties together - I threw up on Jeff's dad's boat. We spent a lot of our childhood together. Those are some great memories.

And it stays with you. My "new" soccer friends are a diverse group. White, black, yellow. Some are old, some are young, some are tall, some aren't. Okay, I am the not tall one. Some of us are nice, well, most of us are nice, some are complete assholes. Really, just 1 guy. Most assholes play with us for a week or two and realize that they don't fit in so they stop coming. We like that. Some are Americans, some are from Ghana, South Africa, Mexico, Canada.

We have celebrated good times with each other. The birth of my baby. Engagements. Weddings, graduations. I have watched some guys grow up from high school kids who may have been a bit awkward to college guys who could run like the wind to married guys or engaged guys who are responsible, productive members of society.

We have shared tragedies. We lost a member of our group several years ago. In a touching moment, we had a moment of silence and then some folks said some prayers. We put up a bench in his memory and, once in a while, when the game is right, you can see something and think "There's Troy again."

Its a unique game. Its the beautiful game. When its played well, there is nothing like it. The sound of a clean, crisp pass. The ball whizzing past your head on a perfectly hit cross. The sounds of a team cheering a goal. People running up and down the field, looking like its chaos when, if done right, everyone knows exactly where he is supposed to be.

Then there is the bad side of soccer. Primarily youth soccer. Parents who yell constantly knowing nothing about the game. Coaches were insist on running drills from the 1970s. Leagues where politics are more important than the teaching of the game. Organizations trying to put other organizations out of business and not realizing that its about getting people to play the damn game. That is for another night.

Soccer brings people together like nothing else. Take a walk by a park where there is a soccer game. Bring some cleats and ask to play. They will let you play. Its who soccer players do it. We are a community. We accept others, even if they talk funny, look funny or just are funny. We teach the game to new people. We want to see everyone get better and enjoy the game.

The soccer community is a pretty special place. I want to thank my friends from my childhood for those memories of a lifetime. And my current soccer friends for memories that will continue on as we play the beautiful game.

September

I was driving today when Green Day came on the radio. It was "Wake me up when September ends." It was my theme song for September. Was being the operative word.

You see, September sucks. When I was little, I always looked forward to September. It was the month school started and despite me being a crappy student, I liked going to school. At least, I think I remember liking going to school. I enjoyed my classmates. I think I enjoyed my teachers - or some of them. September was the start of the regular season of soccer. We had practices and tournaments in the summer, but the season kicked off in September.

As I got older, September took on new meaning. September is the month that we had a baby reclaimed from us. We met the birth parents just a few days before the baby was born. A few days after, we brought the baby home. Then, the worst phone call I have had in my life, and I have had two phones that my parents have died. I still remember that day. Vividly. Its one of the three worst days of my life.

Then, a few years later, my dad passed away in September. He was in the hospital for something minor and left me a voice mail. I didn't call back because he said he would be home in a few days. He never made it out of the hospital. I got the call from my mom that he had passed away. We had his funeral a few days later.

Oh, and these were back to back days on the calendar, even though they happened in different years.

Then, years later, my daughter was born. 09-09-09. Yep, my 9 baby. September got a little bit brighter. It still sucked at the end of the month, but at least the first 10 days were fun. (Lets not forget Sept 11.) What is better than your child being born? It ranks up there with the my wedding, the days I met my boys (who were all adopted [not are, as in its something still going on, but were as in it IS done]). So who can hate a month with a child's birthday, especially a child who, at least according to the doctors, was a one in a billion?

Today I had court. I had a rough night sleeping last night. Court went well. But I knew I was putting on a face for everyone. For today would have been my mom's 71st birthday. This day in 1940 she was born. And like my daughter was medically impossible, or so we were told, my mom wasn't supposed to get pregnant and yet here I am. She passed away less than 6 months ago. And I was doing fine. Or at least faking it well enough that no one knew. Then a commercial came on the radio for hospice. My mom died while in hospice. (Does anyone not die in hospice?)

So it made me think more. September sucks. I miss my mom. We were never the closest mother and son. But we were mother and son. We didn't talk much, or enough, especially in the last few years. But we talked when it mattered. That last conversation is something I will never forget and anyone who wants to tell me that it doesn't matter has never had that conversation. You know, the one where you know its the last time you are going to see someone alive and you say those things that you have thought but never said. Those might be the most honest conversations we ever have in life.

And as I sat and thought, and as I sit and write, I realize that my mom wouldn't want me to sit and mope for a month - or half a month. Sure, I can miss her today. I can miss my dad on the anniversary of his passing. But that's it. Two days. September should be good. The fall is coming. Soccer gets started. School is in full swing. Its a reminder of the cycle of life. Its a reminder of the good things in life. Fall colors.........pumpkins.......apples...........the smell of fresh cut grass.........rain.........

So for me, its not Wake me up when September ends. Its wake me up when September comes. Here is to a new month, a new attitude and a new approach. And thanks Mom. There are always lessons you can teach.

Idiot T-shirts

What the heck is up with t-shirt companies? I saw an actual t-shirt today that said "I'm adopted just look at my parents." Is that supposed to be funny? Apparently its made by a group of idiotic morons at a company called David & Goliath. Apparently, Not my cup of tea, Time is money and Sink or swim were all taken as company names because they douche bags couldn't come up with a better name that David & Goliath. I don't know if Immaculate Conception, Virgin Mary, Moses, and Adam and Eve were already taken. I will look into that.

I mean, there are some things you can make fun of. You can make fun of the girl who shakes her ass when she walks. You can make fun of almost any musician or actor who decides to do something dumb. I admit it, I have made fun of Pitbull (dude looks more like a rat terrier) among others. You can make fun of "reality" tv stars - Operation Loser, er, Repo, is always a good target. But as I have said before, there are some things you don't make fun of.

Skin color? Nope. You don't do it. Religion? Only if you want a fight. Sexual orientation? Um, only if you are an unfunny Tracy Morgan. Disabilities? I guess if you are a loser. And birth status? Nope.

Seriously, you think its funny to make adoption jokes? Are you going to make twin jokes too? Or maybe, a better question, are you going to make fun of foster kids? "I'm a foster kid...just look at the number of homes I have lived in." NOT FUNNY! Maybe you can make fun of kids with no parents too? "I have no parents and someone bought me this idiotic shirt." Wait, maybe we make fun of the kids put up for adoption who weren't actually adopted? "My biological mom tried to place me for adoption, but no one wanted a baby born addicted to heroin."

You see, there are some things that should be sacred. I guess in our culture they aren't. And I guess if you have to sell some piece of crap t-shirts that look like they were made by a douche who probably lives at home, then that is fine. By the way, Todd Goldman in Florida, your shirts SUCK ASS. You probably think Jewish jokes would be funny too. After all, its clear you have the sense of humor of a 4 year old who doesn't know right from wrong. I mean, that heat and humidity clearly have screwed up your brain so that you still find kindergarten humor funny. How about you grow up and come up with something funny?

By the way, all of the profits you made from this shirt, Douchebag and Greedy, you should donate to the Dave Thomas Foundation. Maybe do something positive for adoption, which you seem to think is funny. Its not. Its a great way for people who can't have kids to have a family. And its a great way for kids and babies to get a family. I guess you would rather see those kids end up in institutions or dead? Maybe you should think before you make some more idiotic piece of garbage t-shirts. These shirts are so bad you shouldn't even donate them to a 3rd world country. We should burn them all - in your piece of crap family room. Oops, in your parents piece of crap family room.

Now back to your regularly scheduled shows............

On Being a Trial Lawyer

So today seems to be bash trial lawyer day. I don't know if its a national thing, but its happening in California. Summary of why: the California Supreme Court made a ruling that insurance companies say would cost them $3 billion per year. And suddenly folks have realized that trial attorneys work on a contingency fee so we would get 1/3 of that. Its a rough number. But lets say it is right. (I think all of the numbers are BS and made up, but I will work with it.)

So I am a trial lawyer. What does that mean? It means I sue people. Yep, that's right. I sue people. And I don't care if people think its a derogatory term.

First, lets just understand that trial lawyers are not all the same. We have short ones, tall ones, fat ones, thin ones, ugly ones, handsome (pretty?) ones, smart ones, dumb ones, idiotic ones, geniuses, good ones, bad ones. When you say "Oh, they are the trial lawyers" its not like you are talking about a tribe of headhunters from the Amazon who all do the same thing. Its not like we are all 6'2, blonde hair, green eyes. We aren't the freaking Nazis. It would be like saying teachers, professors, radio talk show hosts or ANY OTHER FREAKING JOB!

Oh, and we aren't all liberal. Not every trial lawyer believes in social programs. Not every one is pro choice. Not every one wants to see communism take over. (Something we will get to in a minute.) At the same time, not all of us are pro-small business or tax cuts for the rich or anything like that. In fact, some of us (not me) are rich and want tax cuts for the rich while others of us are middle class and think the rich shouldn't get tax cuts. You can't lump us in as a group.

Second, we aren't bad. Suing people, in and of itself, is not bad. Yes, frivolous lawsuits are bad. You want to talk about frivolous lawsuits? How about suing individuals for $500 in court when you know that you served them improperly? How about one business suing another over a $1,000 contract dispute when the attorney fees are more than that to file the dang thing? How about suing an individual when you have been told of identity theft and there is an active police investigation? Yep, all of those things happen.

I sue people. I admit it. I sue businesses too. I send them a letter before I do it. No one has ever been sued by me and said "Damn, I had no idea this was coming." They may have said "Damn, I didn't know he was serious." But they all knew it was coming. I may not win every case, but I investigate it and make sure its got merit. Then I go at it. Its my job.

Oh yeah, its my job. Lets talk about that. Being a trial lawyer is not my identity. I am not "Jonathan Stein, trial lawyer." I am Jonathan Stein, dad, father, coach, person, human. As a matter of fact, if I had to give you 10 words that describe me, trial lawyer, lawyer, attorney, counselor at law (which is an idiotic name) or anything of the sort would be at the bottom of my list. You see, my job does not define me. It is part of me. So don't give me all this crap that I am a trial lawyer. I am a person. Sometimes I do good things, sometimes I do bad things. That applies to every aspect of my life. I am not perfect nor do I claim to be. And that goes for my career as well - I make mistakes, but I am a trial lawyer, not a perfect lawyer.

Third, trial lawyers are entrepenuers. Not all of us. Some work for big firms, but its probably less than 5%. Most of us work for ourselves or in small law firms. We are small business. We employ people. We provide jobs. We also only get paid when our clients get paid. Let's be clear: WE GET PAID WHEN OUR CLIENTS GET PAID. So I work for free until that time. Oh, and don't tell me when I am done I didn't earn it. I worked for free. You go to your boss and tell him not to pay you until you complete a job and he makes money on it. You don't want to do that? Yeah, well, that is what we do, every single freaking day.

Why does this matter? Two reasons. First, if I were to file frivolous lawsuits I wouldn't make any money. Think about it. If I spend $400 to file a lawsuit and work 100 hours on it, and there is no merit to it, how much money do I make? I lose $400 plus 100 hours of my life that I can never get back. Ever. Gone. Poof. Vanished. So why would I take a frivolous case? I wouldn't. DUH! Second, it means I better have some idea what I am doing. I have to evaluate a case and figure out if it makes financial sense. In other words, just like you guys out there selling, I have to take things where I can make money. Isn't that capitalism?

This, of course, is why trial lawyers are not pro-Communism. Under a communistic system, we wouldn't have jobs to make money. So don't call us commies, or whatever the hell idiot expression Michael Douchebag Savage uses. (And yes, he is a douchebag who makes money because he can yell. He hasn't had an original thought in 20 years.) So stop that nonsense.

There are people who are now ashamed to be called a trial lawyer. Years ago, the Association of Trial Lawyers of America changed their name to the American Association of Justice or some such nonsense. Look, I am not in the justice business. I don't make money on a justice. Justice scares me. I don't know what it is. Call me and tell me you want justice and I will tell you I can't take your case. Sorry. Maybe it sucks. But I can't use 1/3 of justice to pay my bills. Oh, and how do you know when you get justice? Is it an eye for an eye? Is it cutting off the hand of a thief? I don't know, but I don't want 1.65 fingers. Sorry.

I quit ATLA when it changed its name to AAJ. (By the way, say ATLA and then say AAJ. Like they are words. AAJ is not a word. It sounds like you are puking.) I quit because I don't want to run and hide from what I am. I am a trial lawyer.

I could have graduated from law school and done something else. Despite being told by a young associate at a big law firm that I wasn't smart enough to work in his firm, and despite being told by my high school guidance counselor not to apply for college because I wouldn't get in, I think I could hack it there. I could have gone to work for a big law firm and made six figures out of law school while working 100 hours per week. It was a possibility. Hell, I graduated top 10 from law school. Its not an issue.

But would representing millionaires and billionaires be enjoyable? No. I don't like it. I also don't want to sit in a library all day doing research or writing memos or things like that. I don't want to report to 5 people who never let me do anything. I am a trial lawyer. Its what I do. Its part of me. It is not me, but part of me.

And, quite frankly, I am good at it. I can stand in front of a jury and convince them, at least for a few hours, of my viewpoint. I can get them to see my client as a person, a person who has been injured or hurt. I can get them to understand why my client is entitled to what I am asking for. I have never seen any of my closing arguments. And I don't want to sound cocky, because goodness knows I need help and am still learning, but while the other attorney in my last trial was the managing partner of some fancy Orange County law firm, she had to read her closing argument and I stood up and spoke from the heart. Its what I do. Its what we do. We represent real people who have real problems and need real solutions. And those solutions come by filing lawsuits.

I am a trial lawyer and I am proud of it.

Fathers and Sons

Let me preface this by saying I don't understand the relationship between mothers and daughters. I am neither mother nor daughter. So I can only talk about what I know. Yes, I know. Sometimes I just make crap up and some of its funny. Some of it is insulting. I get that. But this is about something I know - fathers and sons.

The relationship between a father and son is......................something. Special? Sounds too cliche? Different? Probably, but different than what? Unique? Probably. After all, mothers and daughters don't have all of that testosterone running through them. But there is something about that relationship.

So tonight I was at Rubio's to get dinner. There were two sets of fathers and sons that I saw. Father and Son A were there for dinner. As they walked in, the son was on his Crackberry. Dad held the door for the son. (Just so we are clear, dad was in his early 60s and the son was late 20s.) The son was standing in line in front of the father. The son walked up to the cash register to order. Dad stood in line. The son then ordered his dinner. Then he paid. Then he walked to a table. Then dad walked up and ordered. Paid. Sat down at the table. They called the son's name and he went to get his food. Then they called the dad's name and dad got his food.

WTF is wrong with this kid? Kid is probably not accurate. WTF is wrong with this mid 20s douche? He isn't even good enough to be a douche bag. Your dad is around for like 40 years of your life. Maybe. When he is gone, he is gone. That's it. Of your 40 years, maybe 20 are years when you can do something cool with him.

Those first few years are formative, or something like that. But you can't take dad to dinner. Then you go through that 10 to 18 range where you may not want to be seen with dad, you dont want to hang out with him, and even if you do, you can't afford to treat him. So dad spends his money on you. Great, its his "job" I guess. Then you are 18 to 24 and in college and poor, probably because you spent most of your money on alcohol - or worse. Then at about 25, you are finally working, have some money and can take dad to dinner.

Now you get the chance and YOU DON'T PAY? What is wrong with you? You had a Yves Saint Laurent wallet and you don't pay for dinner with pops? By the way, what man carries Yves Saint Laurent? Seriously? What's next? Are you going to wear UGG boots? Are you going to put on some lipstick? Sorry, off the point. You dropped $100 on a wallet and you don't buy dad dinner? Are you freaking serious?

Then, after I order, I sat down and waited for my food. I look up and there is a dad and his son in his late teens, early 20s. It was hard to tell and the kid was big. It looks normal and then I notice dad is feeding his kid. Yep, the kid was special, different, unique. Whatever you want to call it. Dad needed to help his kid eat. The kid needed dad. You can bet your butt that the kid would have loved the opportunity to do something for dad. But he can't and he won't. And that won't change.

It sucks. It sucks for dad. It sucks for the kid. Oh, don't give me this nonsense about how dad is doing something noble. Dad is being a dad. Trust me on that. And trust me - it sucks. I know my oldest son is never going to call me up and ask me to dinner. I know he isn't going to call me up and tell me about his new job. I understand that. I get it. And I deal with it, but it sucks. It sucks a lot. And those of us who are fathers of sons who are special know it. Some of us can admit it. Not everyone is that stage.

But you can bet that those of us who have been through this do appreciate our relationships with our fathers more. Well, as long as they are there. And when we don't have our dad to call anymore, we appreciate those relationships with our sons. I appreciate my two other sons more. I expect more from them as well. And fair or not, that is how it works.

But to all of you punks out there who carry Yves Saint Laurent murses or purses or whatever the hell it is - you sure as hell take your dad to dinner and pay for it. There are a lot of fathers and sons out there who will never experience that so man up and do it. Or turn in your man card you piece of crap.

Sears

Dear Sears:

F--- you. Seriously. Oh wait, I am sorry. Sears doesn't exist. Dear Searsholdings: F--- you. Your customer service blows. Big time. I could get better customer service from my dog. Now granted, my dog is smarter than your average dog, but he is still just a DOG! Do you not understand what customer service is?

You see, I went to your store to buy a dryer. Why? Because you said you could deliver it and install it the next day. Isn't that part of your advertising? I don't get it. So, fine, you tell me you can install it the next day. Great. I buy it for over $1,000. I am not sure if you are aware, but its a freaking recession. Do you know what that means? People don't spend $1,000 on dryer's. That could explain why I was the only one there buying anything!

So no call on Sunday night as promised. I mean, how am I supposed to know when you are coming if you don't call? Monday morning at 7:30, someone calls and will be out between 1:30 and 3:3o. Not perfect, but fine. I need my dryer - hence buying one and spending money on you delivering it and setting it up! But fine. We make it work. Dude shows up at 2:30 and is done in about 5 minutes.

Today, we go to use said dryer and it doesn't work. Now I am not a dryer expert, but it should work IF ITS BRAND NEW! But this doesn't work. So I break out the manual and try a few things. Oh guess what, you didn't set it up right.

So I call. First guy tells me I called the wrong number. He gives me a different number. Then I get a guy who tells me that I need to have the installation guy come back out. Um, if he didn't do it right the first time, why on earth would I want him to come out again? Seriously. You mean that the guy who couldn't do it right the first time should come back out and not do it right the 2nd time, but I should trust him to do it right this time? Yeah, I think not.

Then I am put on the phone with a woman who sounds like she is in India. Oh wait, she probably is. She tells me that she can't get someone out for a few days. Do you not realize that I paid for next day installation, not next day partial installation? Seriously, if I wanted it installed wrong, I would have done that myself. Its that freaking hard? I tell her I need someone today. She says I have to speak to the manager.

You would think this is progress. WRONG! She apparently meant the manager on duty of the store where I bought it. How is this person going to help me? Well, first she tells me that she is on a cordless phone and can't hear me that well. I ask her if Sears has any phones with cords. Apparently, her phone is so bad that she can't even hear this! After a few more minutes of her having a phone that apparently routes through Timbuktoo, she hangs up on me. UNREAL!

So I call back. I get told that someone is looking into it and will call me back. Guess what? No freaking call back. What do I do? I call them. I am not sure if they know this but when you have 4 kids you make a lot of laundry. How are we supposed to live without a dryer? I know. The laundromat. Yep, that is why I spent $1,200 on a dryer - so I could go to the freaking laundromat.

So I get this woman who now tells me the number I was given to call is wrong. Of course, she sounds like she is in China or Malaysia or some place where they don't have proper phone service. She is going to transfer me. I swear I am not making this up. She transfers me - and it rolls right back to her. How the hell do you do that? Seriously, you transferred me, it rang, I got the message that I had called Sears and it goes back to you? Are you joking? So I told her I still needed someone who could help. She transfers me again.

This time I get some dude on the phone. At least he sounds like he is in the US. But he tells me that it sounds like they didnt vent the dryer before sending it out to us. So it will require them to pick it up, take it back to the warehouse, vent it and then bring it back to me. This could take several days. I explain to him that I didn't drop $1,200 on a dryer to have it take a week and if they couldn't fix it, that they could take it back. His actual response: "That is fine with me." Really? Its fine with you. Then come pick it up.

Oh suddenly I am serious. OOPS! Bad call on his part. I don't bluff on that crap. So it turns out that a brand new one will be delivered - tomorrow, and VENTED! What kind of shmucks deliver a dryer that isn't vented? Oh, they are supposed to call me between 6 and 8 tonight to tell me what time they will be delivering it. Want to bet that doesn't happen?

Of course, he is sending me a coupon for 10% off my next purchase at Sears. What are the odds of that happening? Slim and none. Why would I spend my hard earned money on your products when it took me an hour to get this cleared up? Do I have idiot written across my head?

People

I went to DMV today. I spent about 2 hours there. Have you ever spent two hours at DMV? Its not the waiting that is interesting. The waiting sucks. The rules are dumb. Its the people. People are fascinating.

I walked in. The security guard was wearing a tie and dude was probably in his 60s. He had a high school degree. He enjoyed his job, even when he had to carry the heavy boxes. Then there was the lady who inspected my car. She had finger nails longer than my fingers. Her parents owned a 68 Chevy and they couldn't maintain it anymore. Sit, watch, listen, learn. Its amazing.

Then it hit me. Here I am at DMV. I dressed up - shorts and a t-shirt. With the 20 people I interacted with, some in line, some employees, I probably was more educated than all of them - combined. That's not to brag. Its not my style. I don't care if they have a 5th grade education, an 8th grade education or a PhD. I like talking to people. You have to like them to do what I do for a living. And these people are happy. Genuinely happy.

Not all of them were happy, obviously. But there was the guy who had injured his leg and had a limp. The guy with the hat, long hair and fanny pack laughing about his morning. The woman who came to the US but didn't have her state ID. They were smiling and happy. They had lived their dreams - or at least fake it better than most.

And here I was - wondering, thinking, pondering. Had I lived my dreams? Did I reach my goals? I was 14. My dad took me to one of his co-workers homes. Her husband flew Blue Angels. If you are a male about my age, there are very few things cooler than the Blue Angels. They rank up there with the Harlem Globetrotters. (If you don't like the Globetrotters, stop reading now. In my late 30s, they still make me laugh - a lot.) We talked about it and he gave me some tips. He had graduated from the US Naval Academy. Very impressive. Yet, when I was in high school I sucked as a student. I didn't want to suck. No wait, I did. I wasn't very good, I wasn't very motivated and I didn't care. Guess what? You don't go to Annapolis if you don't have good grades.

Then I was 15. My dad had a friend over from the big corporate office on the East Coast. (Is East Coast capitalized or is it east coast? I don't know - and don't think I care.) I was walking upstairs and we were talking. I told them I was going to be a millionaire by 30. Guess what? Not even close. At 30, I was still figuring out what I wanted to do with my life.

I had other dreams - professional soccer player, corporate CEO, risk manager. Fun ones, I know. None of them were reached.

I don't know that it matters. I am happy with where I am. Husband, father, contributing member of society (except for this blog). I have a roof over my head, food on the table, the love of my family, good friends. Do I really have anything to complain about? Probably not.

Back at DMV (do it in your best Superfriends voice), I looked to my left. There were 2 women and 6 kids. Not little kids. Probably 16 through 19. They were special. They were clearly different, but I am not sure they knew it. I don't know that they cared either. And I watch them sit there, smile, and not notice anyone next to them. And I realize that is it for them. This is their quality of life. I am sure their parents didn't sit around and say "I hope Billy grows up so he can go to DMV with other kids like him as his weekly outing." I know I don't say that about my own son.

I guess it hit me that some of us are lucky, pretty damn lucky. We have the dreams. We have the ability to have these dreams. We know what we want - or what we think we want. We can achieve great things - if we want. These kids don't have that. They have the joy of one day then the next. The days are all the same. None of these kids was going to grow up and become President or even the security guy at DMV. This was it.

I realized today that we need to be thankful for not only what we have, but for what we can have. Don't aim low and hope you reach it. Aim high and reach for what you really want. If your kid wants to be President, don't tell her that she can't. Tell her what she needs to do to get there. We need to remember that life isn't always what we have, but its also what we can have, what we dream of having, not cars, houses and "stuff" but flying Blue Angels, finding a new planet, discovering some unknown life.

My hometown

(With apologies to Bruce Spingsteen who wrote about my actual hometown.) Okay, so it isn't quite my HOMETOWN. But I live here dang it. And I am sick and tired of people bashing my town.

Today, it was called a ghetto. A ghetto? According to Merriam Webster, a ghetto is "a quarter of a city in which members of a minority group live especially because of social, legal, or economic pressure." I don't know the exact ethnic breakdown of my city, but I looked it up. Its 46% white, 18% Hispanic, 26% Asian, 11% black and the rest is other, whatever the hell that means. How exactly are you other? Anyway, the median income is $83,000 per year and only 6% of the population is below the poverty line. Okay, only 6% as if its a small number. Its too big, but lets be realistic: 6% is not a bad number. For comparison purposes, Sacramento has about 20% of its population below the poverty line and the median income is about half of Elk Grove's median income. Just so we are clear: under no definition can you call Elk Grove a ghetto.

Sure, Elk Grove has changed. When I moved here back in 94, it was predominantly white. Oh wait, it still is, you idiots. Its 46% white. Sure, I guess that is technically under half, but its close enough to say Elk Grove is mostly white. Simple. Not even anything to discuss. Is it as white as it used to be? No. But how is that a bad thing? I am not sure if you folks are aware of this, oh I am using folks in a very general sense, but the world is not mostly white either. I would rather my kids, who by the way aren't white, grow up in a world where they see people for people and not by the color of their skin. Sure, its a cliche, but how bigoted do you have to be to think that its a bad thing for a city to get more diverse? In 2011, when a large number of families aren't all white, or black, or yellow or red or purple, why should our city be? If you want all white, move to freaking Antarctica - or Arkansas. Either way, its not here.

Then it was called a "nightmare." I didn't even have to look this up. I know what a nightmare is. You want a nightmare? Go spend 6 months in Afghanistan or Iraq. Go try to express your religion in Tibet or China. Go try to eat in Ethopia. I know We are the World is no longer on the radio except at Christmastime, which by the way, not everyone celebrates, but there is still a famine going on over there. Try living in this country with no job, no money, or a felony conviction on your record. Try growing up with a mental illness so that you cannot interact with people like "normal people" can. Those things are nightmares.

Elk Grove has issues. Sure. So does freaking Beverly Hills with a murder last year. We had two guys drowned in pools in the last 10 days. We had a hold up of a stop and rob or a check cashing business or some such nonsense. Yep. It happens. And in my hometown there were fights between the races, people pulled bats, knives and guns in the 60s and 70s. Yet, for some reason, no one thinks of it as a nightmare or a ghetto. Ah yes, those folks are much more tolerant.

Just so we are clear, I don't find Elk Grove perfect. I think the city council bickers too much. I think some people are on power trips. I think the parks aren't the best. I think some people drive too fast. I KNOW some people are too judgmental. But I do what I can.

In the meantime, the whiners and complainers do what? NOTHING! Oh wait, they whine and complain. Here is what I don't understand about these people. If you don't like something, you can sit on your fat ass and complain or you can try to fix it. How do you fix a city? You run for city council. Look, if my front door is broken, I can either complain about it or fix it. How is this any different? If my city is broken, or I perceive it to be broken, I can either complain or do something. Whining on the internet that my city is broken is not fixing it. Its whining. Its bitching and moaning and complaining. I guess it may help you feel better, but its so unproductive.

I admit it - I have whined and complained. Go back and read through some of these. I bitched about people who suck, I complained about cancer when my mom died. But you know what - then I manned up (or womaned up). I dealt with people who suck. (Sorry you have to wait for the book for that.) I put together a fundraiser for cancer. Is it a cure? Nope. Does it make things better? Yep. Its not that hard.

If you dont like my town, go run for city council. Go join a committee. Go DO. Don't whine. Don't complain. Do or shut the f---- up. Is it really that hard?

I like my town. I have friends who are blue collar, white collar, red collar. (I don't know what red collar is, but maybe they work in a red light district?) I have friends who are rich and some who struggle. I know PhDs and people who didn't graduate high school. I talk to people who speak English weller than I do (I know that isn't right, it was a freaking joke) and I talk to people who speak English as a 2nd or 3rd language. And you know what? I like them all. It makes my life interesting. It makes life fun.

I don't need to sit around and be around people like me. In case you don't know, I am boring. And a lot of me - even more boring. The more of me, the boringness increases by a factor of 10. So if I am alone, its a boring of 1. 2 of me, makes it a boring of 10. 3 makes it a boring of 100 and so on. Sure, I would play a lot of soccer, but I would be bored out of my mind in about 10 minutes. And life would suck.

So if you don't like my town, either do something about it or get the heck out of dodge.




WOW! Such negativity. Why? What makes Elk Grove so bad? Or what makes someplace else so good? And why do you complain about it?

Okay, first, if you are going to complain, have you run for city council? That is the easiest way to make a change. If you haven't, should you really complain?

And why is Elk Grove so bad? Look at the diversity we have here. Not just racial or gender, but blue collar/white collar, PhDs, high school graduates, etc.... Be specific and don't just complain.