A few things on my mind

I am sure I have something serious to write about, but I have to get some things off my chest. They have been bothering me for a day, maybe two. So I figure I should get these off my chest - in no particular order.

1. Music sucks. Have you heard some of this nonsense? Okay, so I wrote about it before here: http://randomrants08.blogspot.com/2009/07/todays-song-lyrics.html Go read it if you want to. But there is more of this guy Pit Bull. Im sorry, he is a bad copy of Vanilla Ice. Pit Bull is his name? Really? I get it - its a stage name. But its a dumb stage name. Pit Bull? The only thing scary about this guy is his music - it sucks! Please stop.

Then there is LMFAO. Okay, google it if you dont know what it means. The only thing funny is that people buy their music. Do they get that they arent very good? Its like fingernails down a chalkboard. Please, stop. Please? Party Rock Anthem is really like a group of crappy songs that someone spliced, er, sampled, together. One coherent song would be nice. Is that asking too much? I guess so.

2. Courtesy - what happened to it? So tonight I am driving to Target. Someone in the right lane wants to make a left turn. That doesnt work so well. So I wave them in. A courtesy wave is all that is expected back. Raise your right hand as a thank you. Its not that hard. But do I get one? NO! Not even a wave. I know, I expect too much. People really shouldnt have to raise their hand as a thank you. Its a lot of work. After all, it requires like 3 muscles being used. Would it be that hard? How about tomorrow if we all wave and thank someone who lets us in? Deal?

Then I get to Target. I buy two things. There are not a lot of check stands open. And none of them are the 10 items or less line. So I get in line behind these two women. They have a basket of stuff. They look at my cart with 2 things in it. They then put their stuff up. They dont ask me if I would like to go in front of them. Then they pay separately. Would it have been that hard to say "Would you like to go first?" I may have said no, but they could have at least offered. Would it have been that hard? Sheesh!

3. Profanity - What the fuck is wrong with these shithead dumbasses who think that profanity in every sentence is cool? Its not fucking cool. If you overuse this crap, it makes it as useless as ............something. Something really useless. Look, I get that the occasional f bomb gets someones attention. True story. A friend of mine called me and was going to send me a thank you for helping him out. I told him not to. He said he was going to anyway. I said "Fuck you." He stopped and said it was the first time he had heard me use profanity.

But when you use it all the time, it loses something. Its not powerful. It really makes it sound like you have no command of the English language and you can't come up with something else to say. Example "I cant fucking believe you are such a fucking dickweed asshole." By the time you get to asshole, its expected. Better "I cant believe you would treat a friend that way, asshole." See, you arent expecting it in sentence two. So it has some power to it.

Oh, and profanity in public is even lamer. You just sound like an uneducated douchebag, even if you are in a $1,000 suit. And the louder you get, the more uneducated you sound. So how about if we cut back on that a bit, eh? (See, the random use of eh gets your attention!)

4. Funerals - Okay, I will probably elaborate on this in the future, but a funeral is no place to talk politics, law or anything else. Look, I am sorry Joe Paterno died. Don't tell me he is a hero or did nothing wrong. Talk to me about the good he did. Talk to me about how sad you are. Talk to me about the void that now exists. Leave the other stuff out. Also, don't tell me its a blessing when someone dies. It isnt. Ever. I promise. They may not be suffering anymore, but death is not a good thing. Death is not something to be celebrated and no one really thinks its a blessing. We may think our loved one is not suffering or not in pain, but that is different from good. Is that fucking clear?

Profile - Nick Caccavo

Imagine having a standard upbringing, or as Nick Caccavo put it, an upbringing as “generically portrayed by Hollywood PG movies.” Nick grew up in a house with a mother who was a pharmacist (something near and dear to my heart as the son of a man who was a pharmacist at one point) and a father who is a well regarded, Vermont lawyer. As Nick put it, he didn’t “grasp the reality that the world is not an even playing field outside of Disney movies and my own little world” with this upbringing.

Nick changed majors in college from business to history and joined the Army ROTC to pursue his dream of fling Apache helicopters. Nick spent two years in the ROTC and was set to graduate and become an officer when he realized that it wasn’t for him, probably for a variety of reasons. Nick lost some direction, but ended up with a double major in history and political science with a minor in archeology. Deciding to spend a semester abroad, in a place he would never go on vacation, Nick of course chose the University of Ghana. As Nick says “Once there, I was confronted with realities that I couldn’t really appreciate up until that point.”

Nick can explain his first experience in Ghana better than I ever could. As Nick tells the story “My first experience in Ghana (aside from nearly wetting my pants while waiting to get through customs) was getting ripped off. When I stepped out of the airport some jumped up and stole my bags. I followed him of course, and fortunately he put them in the waiting van chartered to bring me and other fellow international students to the university. He charged my $20. I didn’t particularly enjoy losing control of my belongings that fast, but thrilled that it had worked out ok I paid him his fee. Only afterwards did I discover he was just some random dude and that $20 was at least a month’s pay for him. Most other students hadn’t been so easily fooled and had either outright refused the service or been parted with only $1-5.”

Joseph Conrad’s “Heart of Darkness” is how Nick describes much of Ghana, even when you can buy most things for $1 and the people are friendly. Nick realized that nothing was on time, busses were no shows, as, scarily, were the professors! The government would literally rubber stamp documents and, despite the age of computers in most of the world, much of Ghana still used actual paper for the paperwork! Nick felt most people in power were trying to make life difficult for those people who needed help. Nick realized that there were a million problems, but that they all stemmed from people not fixing things.

One day, Nick was invited to see a library built by a local friend of his and a group of students. Nick thought “Heck yeah. Finally, someone is actually doing something instead of just talking about it.” Nick and four other American students went on the visit. The library was impressive. Small, well placed and freshly painted. There was only one problem: there were no books. A library with no books is about as functional as a Kardashian marriage. Nick realized then that things that had to be improved. Nick says “I didn’t know how to solve any of the bigger issues I’d been struggling with, but I sure as shit wasn’t going to waste my time reading story books to a bunch of little kids that didn’t even understand English at some orphanage for a day. I decided to stock that library with books.”

As with most things, Nick realized that this was easier said than done. They all wanted to do something and they decided to work together to reach their goal. After 2 months of weekly meetings, they had accomplished having 2 months of weekly meetings! But, Nick did learn “a lot about managing groups of people with disparate personalities and cultures.”

Nick returned to the US and talked to his close friends and family into helping him get books. He even went to his old high school. His high school librarian put him in touch with a network of Vermont librarians and Nick learned that libraries are always getting rid of old books. The libraries are often glad to find someone to take away the old books for free, especially for a good cause. Taking his Chevy Prizm, Nick drove around and picked them up. Shortly after graduating college, Nick’s parents’ barn was piled high with over 5 tons of books.

Moving back home after college, Nick did not have any luck finding a job. So he decided to raise money to ship the books to Ghana. By the end of the summer, Nick had enough money to send the first batch of books. Nick had incorporated along the way and “built up a network of donors and volunteers in the US as well as a support base and partnerships with organizations and communities in Ghana (my friend Kwabena Danso had been organizing the community in Ghana simultaneously in preparation for receiving the books). By the time the books shipped, we were a little non-profit organization.”

Once the books were there, Nick decided to continue and address other issues in the community. Students couldn’t attend school due to a lack of money and women couldn’t get loans. It became Nick’s goal to “address inequality of opportunity in this community and build their autonomy so that they could pull themselves up by their own boot straps.”

What have they accomplished? Over 150 women have started or grown businesses with microloans. Each year, seventy children attend school with books, uniforms, backpacks, paper, pens, lunch and school fees all paid for. There is a bamboo bike making workshop. Soccer teams have been sponsored along with emergency medical care to people in need. A pen-pal program has put together over 1000 people in the US and Ghana. Thousands of books have ended up in libraries. Teachers are now coming back to combat “brain drain.” They are now half way towards reaching their goal of making the operation entirely locally run. There are seven paid staff members in Ghana who administer all of the programs. I could go on and on, but you should check out the website www.yonsoproject.org.

As for our young Nick, he is no longer 20 years old and unsure of his future. As he said “Personally, one of my big concerns as a 20 year old looking into the future was that I’d waste my 20’s (I know, pretty heavy stuff. Good thing I’m the only one in the world who has to deal with issues of this magnitude). At the time, getting killed or disgruntled in the Army seemed the most likely risk. Now that I’m getting close to done with my 20’s, I look back and realize that they just kind of disappeared into all this Yonso Project stuff (which has been a lot of work and frustration mixed with some success, and all volunteer) and I’m still basically in the same place I was when I was 20, not knowing what I want to do career-wise or life-wise. But I at least hope that for whatever the ultimate reason, it will turn out that I made the right choice back in college when I turned in my gear and walked away from the army.”

I, for one, am inspired by Nick. This kid could have easily graduated college, found a job, obtained a master’s degree and worked, providing a nice life for himself. Instead, he found a way to make a difference. This is an inspiring story.

Profile - Tanya Hernandez

I went to high school with a guy from South Africa. This was the late 80s and the world was different. Apartheid was still the official policy in South Africa and Nelson Mandela was in prison. I always find it fascinating talking to people from South Africa who lived there during this time. One such person is Tanya Hernandez of Elk Grove.

Tanya was born in Durban, South Africa, the third largest city in South Africa. She attended a modeling school by Bonita Boyle. Graduating high school at 16, Tanya opened a modeling school at 17 in Johannesburg. Tanya realized that her younger brother was shy but he “had developed a new found confidence as he learned to pose and model on the catwalk. It was amazing to see the transformation in not only my sibling, but also in the many students in such a short space of time.” Tanya opened her school with 8 students and doubled the number of students in a short period of time.

In 1995, Tanya’s family packed up their home, left their jobs, and were on their way to the airport. Upon checking their passports, they realized that Tanya’s had a note that she could not leave the country because she was 18 and she needed a US Company to sponsor her or a college that would grant her a study visa. Tanya’s dad had been hired by a US company that had paid all of the expenses and arranged for their stay in the US. But with less than 2 hours until they left, Tanya was not able to leave. Her family ran to the immigration office. Then, fate intervened.

Tanya tells the next part of the story better than I can. “Condoleezza Rice was in South Africa at that time. She overheard my dad talking to the (immigration) officer, saw me in tears, came to the desk where we were, took my passport, went to the back, made a phone call, came back and handed me my passport with an approved stamp in it. The officer was being a typical jerk but for some reason she helped us. I believe it was God.”

Tanya made it to the US but was not allowed to work. She left her school, her job at a bank and her life to come to the US and have to start again in a new country. Tanya is not one to “sit around idly,” so she volunteered for five years for WEAVE (Women Escaping A Violent Environment). With her background, Tanya was asked to train women on how to dress for success. Tanya calls it “absolutely amazing and so rewarding” to watch these women transform their lives.

Tanya then obtained her degree in Fashion Merchandising from the California Academy of Fashion Merchandising and Design. Because of her visa status, she had one year to find a job. Tanya started working with stores, churches and non-profits as a fashion show coordinator helping with fundraising. She also started teaching modeling through the Cosumnes Community Services District.

Tanya got married in 2007. Then, she moved to Florida with her husband and in March, 2008 had her first child. She became ill with pneumonia and was taken to emergency. This may have saved Tanya’s life. She was examined and the doctors noticed moles on her back. Tanya went back to the doctor and a subsequent visit revealed that she had a rare form of cancer that was close to her blood stream.

Tanya says “Being a new mommy, and a newlywed and hearing news like this was devastating! I questioned God so much when I got the news and thought my life was over. I didn't know what was going to happen... I questioned God on my purpose on this earth, there was so much I didn't understand. It was heartbreaking and frightening all at the same time. I hugged my boy closely each and every day with hopes that I would someday see him grow up.”

After a few surgeries, the cancer was removed. Tanya could not walk on her foot for weeks at a time. But she survived and moved back to Elk Grove in December 2009. Tanya is a a certified fitness instructor whose certifications include Macumba® Fitness, AFAA Primary Group Fitness Exercise Instructor, Step Aerobics, Hi Lo Impact Aerobics, Pilates, Pre-Natal Fitness, Mat Science I, Mat Science II, FiTour Personal Training, Zumba®, Zumba® Gold, Jeannie Fit Hip Hop U and Masala Bhangra® Workout. WHEH! In fact, Tanya was hired by the WNBA to teach Zumba® Fitness for a week long health and fitness tour and then she had an opportunity to teach Zumba® to the Sacramento Kings Royal Court Dancers!

Tanya had her second child on October 16^th, 2011. She began teaching fitness classes once again just once a week at Deane Dance Studio in EG after taking time off to be with her baby. Now, Tanya says “For years people have asked me to make DVD's of my classes and the time has come where I am finally turning those requests into a reality. My program will have it's own clothing line, DVD's, instructor training programs, etc... It's a new journey and I'm excited about it!”

Tanya came to the US, by the skin of her teeth. She overcame visa issues, obtained her education, got married and survived cancer. Now she is living the American dream and is an inspiration!

For you, amigo

I am writing this for a friend. To a friend. Friend? I think so. I have known him for 8 years. He has been a friend, a mentor, an ear to listen to me vent, rant, or whine. He has been there for me when to answer questions, provide advice and be an all around good guy. Yet, in 8 years, I have never shook his hand, never bought him a drink (although I did send him lawyers breath once - no, not mine, but the hot sauce), never shared a meal. And, despite this, I think he is a better friend than a lot of people I know. We have grown to know each other through phone calls, emails and inside jokes that sometimes get others annoyed.

And now, in his time need, I feel like I can't be there for him. His wife is dying. Cancer. It sucks. It sucks a lot. Its the worst thing I can think of. I know, Alzheimers robs you of memories. Parkinsons blows. Cancer though makes people WANT to die. Can you imagine wanting to die? I can't. I just know that it sucks like nothing else.

So, its his time of need. He is hurting. I can tell. I havent talked to him in a month. I know he has other things on his mind - more important things. I dont really have anything to talk about - just getting caught up. And he is dealing with his wife, her cancer, and cancer sucking the life out of her. What the fuck?

I want to go buy him a beer. I want to drive over there and buy him some dinner, shoot the shit, as they say, and just tell him it will be okay. It will be okay, amigo. I know it will be. It doesnt feel like it right now. But it will be. This part sucks. The next few days, weeks and months will suck. I know. I am sorry. I wish I could make it better.

Fuck, I practice law SOLELY to try to help people. That is my sole motivation. And now, when a friend needs help, all I can offer is "I am sorry." Its not enough. It cant be enough. It doesnt make it better. It doesnt heal the pain. It doesnt make the fucking cancer go away.

But, I guess it has to be enough. Because I can either say I am sorry and offer to be there for him when, if, he needs to talk or I can do nothing. Nothing just isnt an option. Never has been, never will be. I dont sit and do nothing for a friend in need.

So, friend, I am sorry. I know this hurts like nothing else. I cant imagine it. I can only let you know I am here for you if you need to talk, if you need a cold beer, I am here for you.

And, while I know you are not religious, maybe this will give you some peace, as I know it has me over the last 10 months:

May the Lord bless you and keep you.

May the Lord make his face to shine upon you,
and be gracious to you.

May the Lord lift up his countenance upon you,
and give you peace.

Lawyers Blow

I was going to write something serious and heartfelt. Then I read something that needed me to rip it. So here goes.

Lawyers blow. And that is being nice. Yes, I can say that. I am one. Just so we are clear, this is one of my first posts: http://randomrants08.blogspot.com/2009/03/larry-bodine-is-marketing-goon.html Read it. Laugh. Its still freaking funny.

What the hell is wrong with lawyers? I blog. They BLAWG. I flog someone. They FLAWG. I call them a douche bawg? Yes, that is a douche bag lawyer. What is a douche bag lawyer?

Lets start with any lawyer who insists on "telephoning" me instead of just picking up the phone and CALLING ME. Are you getting paid by the syllable? Seriously. There is no reason to use telephoning as a verb. Its a noun. Its a fucking telephone. If you have to use a 25 cent word, oh wait, that makes me seem like I am 68, there has been inflation. If you have to use a dollar word when a twenty five cent word will do, you are a douche bawg lawyer.

You are a douche bawg if you add an extra letter. I dont care if you were born north of the border. I dont care if you are the Queen's son. Its honor, not honour. Its humor, not humour. You do not have to add letters to sound intelligent. Do you want to know how to sound intelligent? Speak like you are an actual, live, human being. Speak like you know how to carry on a conversation with the guy next door, around the corner or standing on the street corner. That piece of paper in that ridiculously expensive frame doesn't mean you are too good to talk to someone. Adding extra letters when you are writing, or using that lame fake accent, just makes you sound like an idiot. Or, in my world, you are a douche bawg.

If you think you write a blawg and not a blog, you are a douche bawg. Its a blog. I dont know what it stands for, but its not a blawg. You are not special. Go tell Jane Smith you write a blawg. Seriously, send her an email and watch her laugh so hard she pees her pants. You sound pretentious. No wait, you sound worse than pretentious. You sound like my wills and trusts professor who was calling on poor Jesus and kept pronouncing it "Jee-zuhs." His name was not Jesus, and you do not write a blawg. Freaking idiots.

You might be a douce bawg, if you think attorney marketing is the end of the world. Its not. People need to know about us. And if we cant tell them we exist, then they may never know their options. Sorry. You arent going to convince me the world is a worse place because consumers can find out they have options. You are going to convince me that you are an idiot if you think marketing is bad. So let me get this right: cigarette manufacturers could advertise for year, alcohol manufacturers can advertise, but I can't tell people what services I offer? Seriously, did you smoke too much Mary Jane last night? Or are you just that full of yourself, douche bawg?

You are also a douche bawg, if you think I have to work at a big law firm to be a good attorney. I dont care if you have 80 attorneys, 800 attorneys or are .8 of an attorney. What matters is how you treat your clients, how you treat your fellow attorneys and what kind of human being you are. If the first thing you tell someone is "I am an attorney" you are also a douche bawg. It is not a reflection of who you are, but it is what you do. And if what you do is so important that you need to work at a big firm to think you are cool, then great. But you are a douche bawg.

Fuck, I am so tired of attorneys who think they are so freaking cool. Its a job. Its a job you may get paid well to do. But you still put on your pants one leg at a time. You still drink and eat and shit and everything else the rest of civilization does. Dont think you are so special that the world should bend down and kiss your oversized, stinky feet. You are not that special. You are not that cool. And I am so tired of you thinking you are. Its my job from 8 to 5. Its what I do. I like helping people. But stop thinking you are sooo special. Oh, and Mr. I just graduated from law school, no you do not have offices in 4 states and no you are not nationally known. You are some piece of crap who thinks its fine to not grant extensions to other attorneys, not show professional courtesy and not understand when I am done kicking your scrawny ass, that you are still worthless until you realize that this has no bearing on how the world sees you.

Am I clear? Of course, after writing this, I realize that none of the douche bawgs will actually read this. Damnit.

What the hell is wrong with these people? Blawg? Flawg? How abouy douche bawg? Yes, that is a douche bag lawyer who thinks

Being a father

So tonight was an interesting night. We did some cleaning up of the house. It made me think and that is always a bad thing.

I found a tin that Tyler made. He was probably 4 when he made it. That big smile of his and him sitting on his Sit-N-Spin and spinning and spinning and spinning and spinning until I was dizzy watching him. Neither one of us could throw it away. He probably doesnt remember making it. I sure as heck dont remember him making it.

But there was no way we could get rid of it. Its Tyler and right now we hold on to everything Tyler we can. I guess that is what you do when you can't physically hold on to him. I guess this is the next best thing. Kind of. I dont really know. It sucks.

Then I think back to my childhood. I dont know what my dad held onto. Probably nothing. He was gone more than he was home for the first 14 years of my life. By the time he was home, he needed more help than he had ever needed. Yes, he taught me soccer. He passed that love to me. But where was he when I needed him? Where was he when we had family life or whatever nonsense they called it back then? I never got that talk from him because he wasnt there.

Now, I am a dad. Kyle is 10 and its time for that talk. I dont have that experience to look back to and he isnt here now for me to ask him "Hey dad, how would you handle this?" But I dont get that. So I am stuck having to make crap up. I dont know what to say. I guess its not the biggest problem in the world.

I look at my kids and I realize choices I have made as a father are a direct result of my dad. I yell too much. I know. But he yelled. I have vivid memories of that. I also have vivid memories of the belt and of my mom saying "Wait until your father gets home." That is when you knew you went too far. Of course, sometimes that wasnt for a week or two so things had time to settle down. Sometimes mom called dad on his trip to tell him. First time I dropped fuck at home she called him. That was a bad call. And I know I shouldnt yell, but I get upset and I channel my dad. Bad? I dont know. It is what it is.

But I also see that I have made other choices. He made the choices he made based on his childhood. He grew up and things were tight. He put himself through school. He then took jobs that allowed him to provide for his family the way he thought he should. And if that meant he was around as much, then so be it. It was the right choice for him.

I have consciously made choices to be home for my kids. I want to be there everyday to talk to them about school or life or chores or whatever. I want to be involved so I pick them up at school. I am fortunate that I have the flexibility to do that. But I know I worked hard to get to the point where I could have that flexibility.

So here I am. 38 years old. A father of 4, even though sometimes it feels like 3. Of course, some days it feels like 14. I laugh, I cry, I try, I fail, I succeed. I just wish I felt like those successes were more often than those failures. I wish I could be more like my dad, but less like my dad.

I know he let me try things that I thought I might like. I play a mean game of street hockey because of it. So, I try to let my kids do things like Boy Scouts or dancing or ice skating that I don't do or didn't do so that they can have those experiences. I think its part of my job as a dad.

I just wish he was here to help me figure this out. There is no manual. There can't be a manual. You cant possibly know whats in store for you the first time you hear that you are going to be a father. You cant know the second time, the third time or the fourth time either. Hell, I was pretty sure I would only have two kids. Then I was really sure I would have 3 kids. Four kids? Thats just idiotic.

But I wouldnt change it for the world. Each kid is different. Each kid is special. Each kid is unique. Each kid is a challenge. I just think sometimes being a dad is underrated. I think its underappreciated. And I think I wouldnt change it for the world. I just wish it was easier, that I had my dad to lean on during these hard times and that someone could tell me just once that these crappy decisions we have to make as a father are the right decisions no matter how much they hurt.

I became a father before I became a man. I know that. My hope is that my boys will learn from me and be better fathers than I am. My hope is that when they are 38, fathers, husbands, men, they will look back like I am tonight and realize that I made mistakes like my dad before me, that I loved them like my dad loved me, that I tried my best like my dad tried his best, and that they will love me like I love my dad.

Heros

Here I sit in the afternoon with some work to do but I need to get something off my chest. So I blog. Is it weird? Probably.

Charles Barkley once said he didn't want to be nobody's role model. Or he didn't want to be your kid's role model. Enrique Iglesias can be your hero. (Yes, my musical taste runs that far.)

I don't want to be your role model, your hero or anything else. Really. I don't. I can't be. I don't want to be your knight in shining armor. I don't want to swoop in and save the day. I don't want you to think of me as your rescue hero or any other hero.

I am me. Flawed and all. And man am I flawed. I guess people say it in a way that they mean it to sound like they appreciate someone. You change someone's tire and they say "You're my hero."

Screw that. I am not a hero. I am some schmuck who went to college for way too long and learned a few things that I now use to support my family. I use that ridiculously expensive education plus my 38 years on earth plus the lessons I learned from my dad and I do the best I can. Sometimes, quite frankly, the best I can isn't good enough. I am glad I can make you feel better. I am glad I can resolve some problem for you. But how the hell does that help me? It doesnt help me resolve my issues. It doesnt act as some cosmic karma that resolves my issues.

Nope, my fucking issues are still there when I am done solving yours. Getting some piece of crap debt collector to stop harassing you is great. I am glad. But that doesn't make me a hero. It makes me a guy who happens to know the law better than the next guy. It makes me a guy who can write a letter and scare the crap out of people. It makes me a guy who could barely passing legal writing because I don't have a big enough vocabulary but can write a letter to normal people because they don't use twenty five cent words either. (Are they worth like a Susan B Anthony by now?)

So you are welcome for whatever you think I have done for you. I assure you its nothing special. I assure you I don't move mountains, I can't part the Red Sea and I can't even float in a pool of water. I assure you that if I didn't solve it, the next guy (or gal) would solve it, hell, maybe even faster and better.

I am not your hero. I dont want to be. I am just Jon. Thats all I want to be and if that isnt enough, then Im sorry.

Profile - David Casarez

Here is my first profile of someone who is an inspiration. Its interesting how you meet people in life. I met David, or Staff Sergeant Casarez in the early summer of 2011. I was working on Soccer for the Cure and posted something on Twitter. One thing lead to another, or, more likely, one retweet led to another and David tweeted about my event. We exchanged tweets and emails and I learned part of his story.

So, here is David’s story, which as best as I can tell, is being told for the first time. In 1992, an 18 year old knew everything. I am sure most of us can relate to that – I know I can. So, unlike those of us who went to college to find ourselves, and found beer, girls or who knows what else (I found a roommate on probation from the State of Washington for Grand Theft Auto who decided to sell coke out of our dorm room and not the cola kind), David signed up for the US Army. He was assigned to the most deployed regular army unit in the world – the 10^th Mountain Division. Three years later, David had seen the world, learned to be responsible, was disciplined and could pay for college. So, he did what anyone would do, went to college and became a law enforcement officer.

Then, on a day when we all know where we were when the news came, David did what most of us didn’t. He enlisted in the Army again. Yep, on 9/11, when I was still in law school and working, when Pat Tillman felt a pull of patriotism, David did as well. Not only did David go back, he requested to join a battalion that would be deploying to battle. So while I was busy opening my law firm, while many of us were several years out from September 11 and moving on with life, David was patrolling the mountains of Afghanistan looking for guys who scare the crap out of most of us. He spent three more years in the infantry, into his mid 30s, before he switched to the medical field. David has done things and saw things that most of us want to pretend don’t exist.

Then life reared up its ugly head. You know the book “Why do bad things happen to good people?” Yeah, well, this is one of those stories. While serving our country and protecting our freedom, David started having minor headaches. He passed out one night and ended up in the ER. He was referred to an army doctor who was a few months from retiring. After ordering a ton of tests, one test showed a kidney problem. The blood test was connected to the x-ray. The x-ray was connected to the sonogram. The sonogram was connected to the CT scan. The CT scan was connected to – well, it showed two malignant cells on his right kidney. A few weeks later, David was having surgery to remove renal cells, part of his diaphragm and ¼ of his kidney.

Now we are five years later. David is healthy, more fit than most soldiers, runs 5K races and, of course, still plays soccer! David stays in the Army and is thankful for the care he received – “the best treatment in the world,” as he says. But he is also a self described sports nut who has started a sports blog. While harder than he thought it would be, David said “But like my fight against Cancer, I didn't allow myself to quit and stuck with it. I'm small potatoes compared to some bloggers, but I love it and find it relaxing.”

In addition to his blog, his service in the military, he is involved with the 24-Hour Walk-for-Cancer Survivors Marathon in Germany. Service members from all over the Heidelberg area signed up to walk a 5-10-15-20-or-25 miler in support of cancer survivors. David has coached soccer for over 15 years, and while asked to coach in select leagues, he sticks with the military's Child & Youth Services league – think YMCA in the military. While the skill level may not be the same, David stays with them because “ the way I see it, military kids go through a lot when their parents are in the service. Much of it we don't see, such as deployments, separation due to military commitments, change of schools every 2-3 years. It's hard on a kid to live the military life. That is why they have a special bond with each other.” This isn’t just some saying. David knows that his daughters have sacrificed as well, but they “stood strong all these years while I was jumping from assignment to assignment. Seeing the commitment the kids make for the parents, motivates me to give right back to them by coaching. I've been fortunate enough to play higher levels of soccer throughout the world, the least I can do is give my skills right back to the military kids and train them properly for the next level.”

David is an all around good guy. He is an example of the fine men and women in our military. And, despite serving his country, he went back when he felt the call. He went to the places we don’t want to go to keep his country safe. He stayed despite his cancer diagnosis and continues to give back through the 24 hour walk and coaching soccer for the military kids. David is an inspiration to me.

2012

Okay, so I have spent some time the past few days reflecting. I think we all do. One year ends, another one starts. What have we learned from the past year? What do we have to look forward to in the next year? What do we "resolve" to do differently, better? What should we leave behind?

Mix in to that some feelings I have been having about legacy. What is my legacy? What should it be? Maybe 38 is too young to think about my legacy. Maybe its too late? I dont think I know yet. I was driving the other day when two songs came on. It just so happened they came on after I had talked to my wife about how it is usually easier to do the wrong thing than the right thing. She is right after all. Think about it. How much easier would it be to do the wrong thing then by trying to live your life doing the right thing?

So in that frame of mind, I heard "Good Life" by One Republic. Its a good song. Anyway, one line goes "Sometimes there's bullshit that don't work now." That pretty much sums up my 2011. But the song ends "What there is to complain about." And they are right. 2011 was full of bullshit. I put up with what felt like more than my fair share. But, despite the mess, the problems, the idiots, the people who think their shit doesn't stink, I feel like there is little to complain about. I am healthy - relatively. I have a family that is mostly healthy. I have a little girl who has me wrapped around her finger. I have three boys who, despite all of their issues, are good kids who are growing up in a time that I don't know we fully understand. I have a wife who loves me despite all of the nonsense I put her through. I have friends who have been supportive and understanding. I have a house, a job, and transportation. I have food. I know that puts me somewhere above the bottom 50% of people in socio-economic terms. I know I have friends with wives who are sick, jobs that are not guaranteed, and homes that they have lost.

So after that, Evanescence came on. I know people discuss the meanings of songs all the time. This song, to me, makes me think of my dad. There isn't a line I can point to, but a general sense that makes me think of the loss of my dad. I think its this "And I held your hand through all of these years." For years, I would hold my dad's hand to steady him, to help him stand up, to walk him through some place. Now, I can't hold his hand anymore. I can't steady him, I can't help him stand up. I don't have that option. And, it sucks. It makes me sad. It makes me cry.

Where does that leave me? Whats my legacy? What was my parents legacy? Did they leave one? Is it me? Is it my brother? I don't know. I think my dad would tell you that his legacy was raising three kids who turned out to be decent people. Even if I don't talk to my brother, even if we don't see eye to eye, I think my dad would tell you he is a decent person. But I don't really know. We never got a chance to talk about it.

I think my mom would tell you that her legacy was my brother. Yep, I am pretty sure of it. He had the option of moving himself to San Diego when she got sick. I didn't. He had the ability to take her to her doctor's appointments. From my mom's perspective, he was the good son. Hell, not just from her perspective. Her sister, her sister's husband, my dad's brother and his wife, my brother, my cousins, the Rabbi who presided over the funeral. Hell, some of her friends probably think that. I know they do. Of course, none of those people know that while she was sick and needed her strength to fight cancer (by the way, Dear Cancer, still fuck you, Sincerely, me), I protected her from things that would have distracted her. I didn't tell her the details of my family's life that would have made things more difficult for her. I didn't tell her all of the bullshit I had going on. Why? Because that was the decision I made. And whether right or wrong, whether anyone agrees with me or not, that was my decision. And I don't regret it at all. Not one single bit. So, she may be right and her legacy may be my brother. But I know she would have done the same thing in my position.

But what is their legacy? My dad did a lot of good in his professional life. But at what price? It probably contributed to his Parkinsons - or maybe its easier for me to think that way then think of the alternative. It sure made it so he took more medication. He traveled and missed events, maybe not the major ones, but lots of other life events. He provided financially for his family. But I don't think that is it. My mom, who didn't work most of my life, provided a stable home. She took care of the 3 of us.

I just don't know the answer. I do know that all of this thinking has left me wondering what my legacy would be. If I died tomorrow, would anyone remember me for anything beyond my family and friends? And what would they think of me? Good dad? Good husband? Loudmouth who talked more than most people? I don't know. I have never asked and don't plan on it. (And no, don't post a comment telling me what you think. I don't really want to know that badly.)

So, I want to leave a legacy. I want something to leave behind that one day someone will say "He left the world just a little bit better than it was when he found it." I think I know what it is too.

Ever read those feel good articles in Sports Illustrated or Time or some other magazine? You know, once a year or twice a year they will write a story about some kid who avoided gangs while playing football or a girl who inspired her teammates before dying. Its always a feel good piece, a tear jerker. We all like those stories, but do we hear enough about them? Probably not.

So, my goal for 2012, is a 64 feel good stories about real people. Stories you don't hear anywhere else. Stories that aren't being told by NBC or ABC or Time or Sports Illustrated or your local newspaper. 64? How did I come up with that? One story a week for 52 weeks plus a longer one per month for 12 months. That's right. 64 stories. I need your help. Email me or post a comment and tell me about someone whose story should be told. Who has inspired you or made a difference? Who has overcome an obstacle, not cutting off an arm to live while rock climbing, but some other obstacle? What stories do you want to hear? That will be my legacy.