In 1983, while at The Bear in Chico, I met Glen’s friend Russell. I was there with Glen whom I had only recently met through our mutual friend, Pete. Russell was a friend of Glen’s from college and like Glen, he was in town to visit and though Glen was there to visit me, Russell was there to reconnect with friends and the Chico scene. While hanging out at the bar, I was introduced to Russell and his reaction was memorable. because when he heard my name, he said, “Joyce? Well Glen definitely has a ‘mother’ thing.”

You see, Glen’s mom’s name is Joyce. And yes, he definitely had a “mother” thing because his mom was just the best. From the beginning, I loved her. She was welcoming, comforting, loving, and open. She teased me about “my” name and we went round and round trying to figure out how to differentiate between the “Joyces”. Old Joyce and Young Joyce? Nah. Big Joyce and Little Joyce? Nope. Joyce 1 and Joyce 2. Uh uh. Mature Joyce and Immature Joyce. Definite no. So how did we resolve this conundrum? We solved it by just being “Joyce”. It was for others to figure out. We were fine with our name and we loved each other…maybe even a little more because of our name connection.

And while I”m thinking about her tonight, after hearing about her passing I’m thinking…her gift to me was loving me for who I am, for loving our kids for who they are, and for loving her son, unconditionally, for who he is. Thank you, Joyce. My heart aches to know that I’ll only know your smile and embrace through my memories. And my heart sings because I’ve known your smile, your love and your grace. You gave us all the gift of you and your love. Rest in peace. Rest in love.

Tagalong by GAT –

YES, I have a mother thing. AND while at one time I was self conscious or even a little embarrassed by that fact, today I am incredibly proud to have been and always be a “mommas boy”. FOREVER!

AND the greatest gift ever? I realized today that I will quite likely never breathe a breath without a Joyce in my Life.

LUCKIEST MAN EVER!

This morning, I set on my wandering, AND just wandered emotionally . . . at least a bit.

The remnants of my fall of two days ago remains as a bothersome left hip. It is getting better. And is a stark reminder that, often, life evolves incrementally.

The title of this post is derived from Bonnie, she of our dear friends Todd & Bonnie. Todd and Bonnie love each other thoroughly. Yet they are incredibly different from each other. Todd is an analytical thinker, a scientist (PhD in chemistry from Cal) and (to me) represents everything in the scientist thought process. Bonnie, is every wonderful thing scientists are not. Pre pandemic we would go out dinner with them at least every four weeks. And when they were the drivers on our outings, it was ALWAYS Bonnie that was the driver. I won’t delve into why this is, let’s just say it is what it is. Directions are not Bonnie’s thing. AND over time, I came to recognize Bonnie’s use of the phrase “this way or that”. AND it was Todd and Bonnie speak for left turn or right turn. It was, and is with wonder that I observed them so effectively communicating.

I don’t know how to say this, other than just saying it. My Mom passed yesterday early evening. My brother Mike and his wonderful wife Angie were with her as she passed peacefully. I learned of this while watching the Warriors game via text. It is the most common way Mike, Steve and I communicate. AND as has become my tendency, I went to bed at halftime. This time with a more complicated intent. Certainly I have my Warrior “issues”. These took a background last evening. I read for a bit then laid quietly and asked my inner self to “be with” Mom while I slept.

I woke this morning with some sadness, AND also a clearness. It was early – 4:00 hour. I had my coffee. In the best of Thomas ways I thought of the things to do (call financial advisor, tell Linda (cousin on Dad’s side of family), ask Mike and Steve if I could text Sue (sister – it’s complicated), etc. AND with my mind cleared of this “stuff”, I set out on my wander. And wander I did. During my “best” wanders my mind races while my body ambles. This morning it was a combination of amble, pain, amble and more pain. I always make a conscious decision as I head out with a direction, a target, in mind. And this morning I just ambled. AND then the above title of this post popped into my head. This will be what I call my wanders. It is so clear to me it represents where I “am”. I think I may have the name of my “book”.

AND all of this brings me back to Mom. Boy how I love her and like her. She gave me all of the best parts of me. She nurtured me when others saw and punished me for failure. She prodded me when I needed a swift kick in the ass. She sought my council when I, myself, felt so unworthy of providing. AND she was the most selfless person I have ever been close. I’ve included three photos. They all take me back to Mom. The photo of my family in late 1964 or early 1965. Mom was the “rock” of our family. The one that allowed each of us to “be selfish” and come what we became. The second is of me as a new father with Niels. It might be second most favorite photo ever of Niels. Mom taught me every good trait I have as a Man and as a Father. The last is one of me (along with buddies Mike and Barry) as we pose on the “Diving Board” at the peak of Half Dome. I am standing on my Mom’s shoulders.

I HOPE TO SPEND THE RIGHT AMOUNT OF TIME TODAY REFLECTING AND LIVING – THAT IS WHAT MOM WOULD EXPECT OF ME!

Sergio Leone’s wonderful movies, often containing a young Clint Eastwood we couldn’t take our eyes off, were made of a simple elegance. At least on the surface.

Heading to NOLA I know it was my intent, and I believe JDT shared for her own reasons, to “prove” to myself I could participate in living how we want to live going forward. Surely this would include, or even require, compromise by JDT of her burning desire to adventure at 100 MPH. And it would require me to push myself “enough” in order for us to achieve the desired stasis. AND THEN LIFE HAPPENS.

Day 38 (of 51) and it was progressing swimmingly. We both had our separate outings yesterday morning in which we both achieved deep satisfaction. I came back from mine, prepped a little for three separate work “calls” and started down a new exciting path (more on that in the future if I have the courage). We had lunch at a new place to us – Herbsaint. It is top three in our fine dining lunch “category” (Atchafalaya, Clancy’s, Herbsaint – in no particular order). And we Ubered back. AND THEN IT HAPPENED.

I’m OK. I really am. Yes, a bit embarrassed. A bit scraped, bruised and quite sore. Upon arriving at 913 Governor Nichols Street I got out of the car. I felt dizziness coming on as the driver pulled away. I “drunk walked” toward the curb and fence beyond to steady myself . . . and I went black. No, I did not lose consciousness. The world just goes black to me when my blood pressure is so low it does not reach my brain. JDT tells me I nearly got to the “steady” state when I crumbled into the fence and sidewalk. I laid down on the sidewalk as cars drove by and people stared. I gathered myself enough to get up with JDT’s assistance. I made my way to the couch. I’M OK, I REALLY AM!

If it were me, I would re-write the above title to the movie as The Good (And Mostly Beautiful) & The (Sometimes Really) Ugly. And we all know I tend to use more words than necessary. I don’t believe in the concept of bad. Notice the omission? Not my nature. How can anything so wonderful as life be labeled Bad? AND this is my approach to the above episode and life in general. What is important to me is that I use this to assist in navigating our adventures. It could only be bad if I let it somehow curtail our efforts. Our struggle. AND I WILL NOT LET THAT THOUGHT PROCESS PREVAIL.

So, why the title? I’ll spend the next several paragraphs exploring the reason. Reason? Nope, not close. Thoughts? Sure, but still mostly off target. Explanation? Maybe, but really there is no explaining my mind, just wonderment. Purpose, again very close, and really pompous. So, maybe I’ll discover “it” as I write this post. After all. I come to these posts with a thought AND just riff.

I have written about my upbringing in a family that communicated through conflict. This is really uncomfortable for most sane people to experience. It sure is for JDT, Niels and Blair. For example, I can just imagine my kids reading the title, and at best rolling their eyes and saying “Dad . . . ” And at worst just shutting down. In my earlier, angrier, much less mature days this was mostly about me and somehow satisfying my big E Ego. Yet, there was always something lurking in there that made me hang on to this habit for practically my entire life. Apathy! It is what I consider one side of the coin that has passion on the flip side. Or on a spectrum of “caring”, these two words fall at opposite extreme ends. LIFE IS TOO PRECIOUS TO GO THROUGH IN A STATE OF APATHY. At least this is how I see things.

I have “wanted” to write for the last 13ish years. It began with my love to tell my story of my journey with cancer. You know I believe it to be a wonderful gift, just never one I EVER want to receive again. NEVER! I’ve talked with many friends about this desire and they have provided wonderful encouragement. Some of them have told “their story”. In one very specific case it has rocked (in the best way possible) the foundation of his world. I look on in wonder. Yet something has kept me from writing. Is this writer’s block? I have never been a writer, so that isn’t possible. Now? Something has changed. I head out on my morning wanderings with a few things pretty much guaranteed. I’m in a mental fog (the fog helps me escape of “reasons not to” and “just do it”). I’m feeling low energy / high caffeine. I’m worried about my body; my neck / back; my dizziness. As the wandering progresses my internal voices carry on a dialogue that my inner self takes and screams – you NEED to write. Ah, that is it. MY WANT HAS EVOLVED TO NEED. And like all true needs, without them we suffer a compromised life.

Scott Kelley is Jim Kelley’s oldest son. He is also a dear friend, and in many ways has been a spiritual savant to me over the last several years. I think JDT has talked about Scott and his Green Man walks. Scott uses these wanderings while in San Francisco on work (week long stays as he lives in Montana) to push himself to walk into the unknown; to satisfy a sense of wonder; to discover the new.

My version of Scott’s Green Man walks (I don’t have a name yet) with similar intent is to find smaller one way streets that I can walk against traffic. I do this for a variety of reasons. My earliest days of recovery from my battle with cancer were spent with another dear friend at my side – Mike Quillin. I will never, EVER forget our first walk (likely in late 2008 after treatment ended) in the Walnut Creek Open Space. I think it may have been 300 to 400 yards. Maybe. Early on, he was so patient with me. Mike and I spent the next 8ish years “walking” together. We walked through Mike’s struggle to overcome disease and glimpses at his mortality. We walked through Mike’s hip replacement. We walked through it all! AND walk we did! We walked nearly all of the most iconic Bay Area trails (there are many!). It expanded out of the Bay Area to Yosemite (including a midnight Half Dome adventure I will remember to my grave) and into national parks in Utah, Nevada and Arizona (yes, the Grand Canyon). You learn things and create a deep appreciation during such adventures. AND a couple of the things Mike taught me was “don’t just look down at the top of your shoes” and a deep desire to explore the personally unexplored. We don’t walk much anymore. Mike has gone forward and has nearly completed the PCT. I’m learning to live through Mike’s journey and somehow know that a piece of me contributed to a piece of him. My practical reason for choosing small one-way streets. So I do not have to look at my feet when I walk. Sidewalks here are an adventure. I find I need to look down while I walk. This is terrible for my posture and contributes significantly to neck / back pain. So, while Mike’s reason for “don’t just look down down at the top of your shoes” advice was about so much more than safety, I find it is often a health and safety tactic. I walk on the street (it’s OK, it is completely normal in NOLA) facing oncoming traffic (the pedestrian / driver thing in NOLA is a thing with which I struggle). This also feeds my deep desire to confront life head on. AND the curious thing? While I am learning to accept my physical limitations, my desire for the mental impact and import of walking is, if anything higher today than it has ever been.

My new morning wanderings have to this point started with either a left turn or a right turn. I would never go backward. First, I don’t know what that means, and even if I did it is not how I see life. JDT and I were talking last night. She was telling me about her two or three walks that day. She mentioned across Governor Nichols Street. I said I hadn’t gone that way. It meant “going straight” out the door. I rarely think of that as an option, especially in life. Going straight, which I internally translate to “staying the course” somehow seems uninspiring. It somehow seems boring. IT SOMEHOW SEEMS TO BE COUNTER-EVOLUTIONAL.

GOING STRAIGHT IS WONDERFUL.

Just wow.

Glen and I returned to Molly’s Rise and Shine for breakfast this morning. It’s a ways out Magazine toward the Garden District in a nice little neighborhood. It’s a definite Uber ride for us to get there. Glen loves their biscuits and gravy; I love their fried chicken biscuit sandwich. Whew. Today it was spicy.

Our outgoing Uber driver was talkative and interesting. He’s from Florida and retired from the Navy. (Another side-hustler.) BUT OUR RETURN UBER DRIVER WAS A STORY UNTO ITSELF!

We get into the small Nissan Versa and before we were half a block away, our middle-aged driver said that he had just “met his daughter”. Hmm…He told us that his wife had died and a year later he spent a short time with a woman. They both agreed to go their separate ways. What he didn’t know was that she was pregnant.

So wiping his eyes, he continued to tell us that this morning, he had picked up a female rider before us. As she got in the back seat of his car, she said that he looked familiar and he replied that she looked familiar, too. Somehow they sorted out that she was his daughter. Her mother had died in childbirth and she was raised by her two aunties. It turns out that her mother was the woman he had had a short relationship with so many years ago. He never knew that the woman was pregnant or that she had died. He definitely never knew that he was a father for a second time. (He has a daughter by his deceased wife.)

We traveled through the streets of New Orleans listening to this man pour out his heart. He told us that they had hugged, exchanged contact information and promised to get together to talk more. He repeatedly told us that he told her if there was “ever anything he could do for her…just let him know”. Imagine starting your work day like that!

As we continued our drive home, he kept talking and told us that he was thinking of quitting his other job (Uber is a side-hustle for him) and as we neared our house, he said that he had just needed to “tell somebody” his news…and there we were on the corner of Magazine and First just waiting to listen. Glen shared that we have learned so much about New Orleans and its people by meeting our Uber drivers and he told us that he never came to “this side of the river” until he started driving. He loves it. He says the people are beautiful and different. He called it “diversity of love”.

We felt honored to be the recipient of his emotional news and though we likely won’t run into him again, we will always hold a place for him and his two daughters in our hearts.

Diversity of love. Carry it forward.

GAT = THAT DOESN’T HAPPEN EVERY DAY!!

With my new tendency in hand, I headed out for a wander. My body resisted.

Yesterday, we went to Preservation Hall. The iconic site of music we had never enjoyed. It was quite hot and humid, the dog days of summer are approaching. And I had an “extended” episode. I love this term; it is one used by my Grandma to describe a wide variety of occurrences, usually by family members. While these episodes are almost always uncomfortable (the real definition of an episode) for all parties involved. Mine was both quite predictable, yet completely unexpected. I regularly experience significant neck / back pain and brief dizziness. These are the intersection of two things; massive radiation in the head and neck area (cancer treatment) along with Orthostatic Hypotension (OH). I’ve had OH since my earliest recollection of my early teens. I’ve learned this Autonomic condition was exacerbated by the chemo (cancer treatment) administered. CANCER – THE GIFT THAT KEEPS GIVING!

As I headed out my body was off. A bit of neck and back pain, yet no dizziness. I trudged outward. Thoughts come streaming into my head during most recent wanders. Not this AM. Nothing was going to be easy. Progress for me in this area is not forcing it, just letting it come. It almost always does. AND this AM, that process tendency revised, it came in spades!

I love, admire and am a bit envious about the way JDT experiences our adventures and documents, quite beautifully, in a way that brings me by her side. I started thinking about yesterday and the extended episode. Again, my normal tendency would be to think about it in a scarce way. Nope, not choosing to do that. How could I do it differently? My mind shifted to Joan (no, not Jane!) Didion. Huh. I have written of my recent “crush” on Joan and her writings. Included in the Netflix “documentary” on Joan is a conversation suggests that she uses her writings as a form of self therapy. Of self improvement. CATHARSIS!

I wandered in the direction of Louis Armstrong Park. My new found tendency is to walk as NOLA is waking. This seems to help avoid those pesky episodes. AND it really feels like NOLA mostly wakes hungover from its perpetual party. Mostly LAP isn’t open yet. Its many gates are chained and locked tighter than a drum. Going “inside” to the comfort of its “embrace” mostly isn’t an option. This morning LAP was open earlier than usual. I resisted the comforting embrace and stayed outside.

My role at TYS (the baby I birthed) has evolved to include the opportunity to coach members of its emerging leadership team. I am really loving our interactions. I’ve always believed one attribute that made me different (boy did I value being different) was my willingness, or even need, to learn to be comfortable with being uncomfortable. This attribute was a key element of my professional evolution. I have always had a low sensitivity to safety. THANK YOU MOM! I have just never valued safety. While my early coaching charged into the comfortable with being uncomfortable charge with little regard for safety, I’ve learned its value. THANK YOU TIM SHORTSLEEVE!! Today I coach differently. I honor the value of safety. I use a four step process that seems to be quite effective. Think of teaching a child to cross a busy intersection. The very initial efforts literally involve holding their hand. The final stage is to watch from a distance as they CONFIDENTLY cross themselves. VENN DIAGRAM!

So, I think (perhaps too much?!?) about my posts. I think about – What is my greatest hope? What is my aspiration? WHAT IS MY DREAM? I spent most of my life literally fearful of exploring the unknown recesses of my mind. I worried about what I would find. I once said to Dr. Czezak, “will I like myself when I get there?” She explained, there is no “there”, there is only journey. Hmmm? I rarely felt safe on this journey. Dr. Czezak first held my hand . . . My dream is to share with you, in as vulnerable way as my courage allows, my journey. I do not have photos to share. I only have my words and my experiences.

I’LL DO MY BEST TO BE A GOOD COMPANION.

As we all know, Glen loves to take public transportation. He loves the process of “figuring it out” and I agree, there may be no better way to get a sense of the soul of a city. However, I think that there is an equally interesting research project out there to be had by studying Uber drivers. It’s an education!

Yesterday, I took a walking tour of Treme. I’ll likely write about what I learned later. The guide mentioned that throughout its history, the non-white inhabitants of New Orleans have always had a “side-hustle” in order to survive. Seems that most Uber drivers use this method of gaining income as their second income. And boy do they have stories to tell!

Here are a few stories from NOLA…

There was the crazy driver. I really didn’t feel safe in his car. He spent the entire drive looking at Glen in the back seat. He kept stopping at stop signs and would not get started again until he had finished his topic. Mostly he was telling us about how messed up the City government is in NOLA. He definitely told us that during Katrina, the levies were intentionally broken to save the garden district at the expense of the 9th Ward and other neighborhoods.

Then there’s the driver who was such a large man driving his mega truck (4 door) with his seat was pushed so far back and reclined to such a degree that anyone 1/2″ taller than me wouldn’t be able to get in the seat. He lives 80 miles away and his wife works in banking in NOLA. He drives her into the city every day and then stays to drive for Uber. They are both retired military. He told us the story of how he retired from his second or third career and then started driving for Uber.

He loves fishing and he and his buddies like to go fishing on the lakes for nice long days. But there was that one time when the day got away from him (likely he was hooking too many fish) and he was late to pick up his wife from work…It was his last day fishing. Can’t you just hear the conversation?

His wife still wanted him to stay busy so she “gave” him the Uber app. He resisted because he really didn’t want to work anymore and he was mad about the end of his weekday fishing trips. When he finally listened to her and started driving, he realized that he could make $3000 a week and he was hooked…just wasn’t hooking any fish!

There’s the young driver whose car was so dirty that Glen didn’t leave a tip (for the first time ever).

There’s the guy who took us to The Turkey and the Wolf (best fried bologna sandwich EVER…can’t wait to go back!) who talked endlessly about sports with Glen. There was a pause in the conversation and I asked him, “Who is your favorite poet?”. That was a conversation stopper. Then he switched the topic and we learned about his four sons, their jobs, his grandkids, the one who lives at home because why would he move out when his mom does his laundry?

But my all time favorite was on a ride with Randy and Allison to the airport to pick up a rental car. I’ll just call her “Grandma Gone Wild”! She was HILARIOUS! She had been out the night before with her gaggle of friends and they had stayed out way too late “dancing till our knees hurt”. She said that she took a “shot at home and smoked a cigarette” to think through this night out. She told us about the famous “host” on Bourbon Street. Her name is “Concretia” (pronounced Con-cree-sha). She’s the woman who greets you at the beginning of the evening (or morning because it is Bourbon Street, after all) and plies you with shots until you meet her at the end of your foray with your face planted on the…concrete of Bourbon Street. Sounded like “Grandma Gone Wild” had met Concretia a few times.

I hope that this post doesn’t end here. I’m sure there is more to learn about the soul of New Orleans through its “side-hustlers”.

BELOW ADDED BY GAT!

First, a couple of general comments – Uber is much more predictable and safe. AND at my best I resist both and opt for the uber-unpredictable (clever?) and often uncomfortable (unsafe? not really) world of public transport. When I am picked up by someone like me, I mostly go quiet or go to info gathering mode. When picked up by someone different than me, I go to questions targeted at experiences. I so enjoy gaining their perspective.

Now, to specifics –

Unsafe Dude (UD) – nope. He knew what he was doing. Was he distracted? Yep. Did my “low-safety” self feel unsafe? Nope. And UD did ultimately spout comments that even caused me unease, the early part of our discussion was really insightful. We went through Treme and he told us his take on the neighborhood. He also shared with us a history lesson or two of Jazz Fest. While the ride was “memorable” . . .

James – he of the largeness that provided JDT minimal back seat space. Factually I do not have anything to add. Context? A bit. This was a return ride from lunch on Friday that was in Mid City. It was a stark contrast to our outbound ride (more below). I am the keeper of UBER in our relationship. So, among other things, I get some Uber information on the driver. First name, car make and license number, route to get there, Uber rating, etc. It also gives the number of Uber trips (this is the contrast with below). James was 7,099. That, in my experience is quite a lot. So, shortly after identifying ourselves (an Uber thing), I quipped – James, you’ve given 7,099 Uber rides. (JDT said, you mean we are number 8,000? Just another reminder JDT’s brain works so wonderfully different than mine.) I love it when these opening quips “work”. They led to us learning an OG’s (likely our age) experience (how less in common could we share?) in the gig economy (my speculation is JDT is not familiar with the economic term for “side hustle” – BTW “side hustle” is generationally better for me). JDT’s omission for me was the whole discussion of “Wifey”. I use this term guardedly. Another generational term that James used as part of the self-identification / introductions – “Hello Glen; hello “Wifey”. And while we have very little in common with James and Wifey, I don’t sense it is nil. Wifey, it seems, continues to work while they have financial independence. You say, huh. How do I know this? James spent 30+ years in the military; Wifey 25+. And wifey has been working her current career (bank leadership) for 10+ years. Financial independence? Certainly! I wish Wifey were on the ride with us. I just know she would teach me ABOUT THE STRUGGLE!

Gregory – he of the outbound Uber ride. (How do I get these names? They are part of my Uber history). I believe we may have been one of Gregory’s first 100 rides. Gregory was also a part of the gig economy. He had a talk station on his radio. I noted early in our ride that it had a “business” sense to it. A local discussion of the side hustle. AND this was so generationally appropriate. AND THE MORE THINGS CHANGE, THE MORE THEY STAY THE SAME. While quite comfortable with James (we are two OGs), I’m not as comfortable with young black men like Gregory. Frankly, I don’t trust myself to not to say something completely offensive. It wouldn’t be intentional. It would however still be real and come from something perhaps worse – the stark contrast in our experiences with privilege. And it is incredibly comforting to see a culture that nourishes its young ambitious constituents.

Kerry – local college and high school basketball referee. Do you get a sense that sports are, at a minimum, a support culture to the primary cultures of music, food, etc. in NOLA? It is one of my attractions to the South. Kerry taught me about the looming unresolved conflict in LA in sports between the public and private (mostly Catholic) schools. The system is but one further piece of evidence of the growing divide created by outdated and thoroughly TIRED government and economic policies.

It is wonderful to discover treasures in unexpected places.

I’ve been mulling over this post for a few days. And I’m still not exactly sure what I want to say. So I should just dive in…

Last year while in Brooklyn, I’m pretty sure I wrote about the importance of relationships in my life. In many ways…relationships are the most important thing that we have. During times of trouble, illness, sadness, and happiness, I’ve found great comfort, support, and joy as I was “wrapped” in the arms of people who are important to me and who helped carry me through the challenges and who cheered with me during celebrations.

As I entered retirement, I remember thinking that I’d have to be more proactive in creating and maintaining relationships as I wouldn’t have the obvious daily interaction with people. Also, remember when you had young kids at home and our lives centered around their lives? Many of our friends came from the sidelines of the soccer field and basketball court. We spent hours with other parents cheering for our kids and many of my friendships were forged during those years. Sadly, that courtside friendship-creating ship sailed a long time ago.

As an educator, I always felt that my first job was to create positive relationships with my colleagues, with students and their families. I enjoyed that aspect of the work and I think that I was mostly successful. I have many friends who came from my work family and many of us stay in touch regularly though we rarely see each other in person.

And then retirement…and even more drastically…the opportunity to spend months away from all those important people (don’t even talk about a pandemic and how it affected relationships). My thought was…how will I maintain these relationships and create new ones in these new, temporary settings? Without elaboration, I’ll just say that it was easier in Brooklyn than it has been here. Glen alluded to it when he talked about “polite vs friendly”.

I can feel that this post is rambling and will drivel into nothingness so let me get to the point. One way that we’ve stayed connected while we travel is by having visitors. I wrote last fall about the renewed connection we had made with my “long lost) Los Gatos cousins. We met up with a couple of them and their wives when we were in Brooklyn. We had a blast and said that we looked forward to our next meet up.

Well, last week Randy and Allison were in NOLA for the second weekend of Jazz Fest. (They were with a group of friends going all the way back to Randy’s Chico days. Another example of where we create relationships.) They stayed with us for a couple nights and we had a blast again! But what I really want to say is that you know that experience where you meet someone and you just feel like you’ve known them all your life? That’s the connection I felt with Allison. While we’ve met a couple times and I’ve always enjoyed her company, it was just awesome to spend more time with her and get to know her better. And the really weird-not-weird thing is that we found that we had SO MANY things in common – from our childhoods in LA, to loving American Idol, to not considering ourselves caretakers, to the same iPad case, to our values, our interests (e.g. books), our need to go, go, go, FOMO, etc. etc. etc. Seriously. It feels like she’s my long-lost sister. (No offense, Chris!)

AND we both love the Dubs! Now I love them in a casual sports fanatic way (I know that’s an oxymoron) and I believe Allison does, too. The last night they were here was Game 4 and that was a nail biter. Our internet was problematic and we kept sitting there waiting for it to reboot…beyond frustrating. Nevertheless, we won (the internet and the game) and we enjoyed watching it together. Then came Game 5 after they had returned to the Bay and we shared a couple WTH? texts during the game…and then last night! I think “torture” was the word…until it wasn’t! Turns out Randy and Allison were watching the game a bit behind live action and had to ask me to kindly stop text-reacting! I went to bed and woke up to their joyful reaction! Something like “We did it!” and “Phfwew!” How fun to have this new connection.

So back to there time here in NOLA with us…I’m happy to say that when Glen and I were describing our upcoming summer/fall trip to Randy and Allison, she said, “We’ll be in New York when you’re there!” We all agreed that that will be our next meet up! Allison also kiddingly said that wherever we were going next is now where they’ll go so they can follow us! I can only hope so!

Here’s to sisterhood and relationships and connections!

PS Randy and Allison are WAY more traveled than us so we should really be following them!

PPS I can’t believe we didn’t take one picture of the two/four of us. Darn it!

I know many of you are sports fans, while at least a few are repulsed by the very notion of sports (BTW, I distinguish between sport and sports – thank you Dr. Harry Edwards). My post this beautiful May NOLA morning is intended to question not state. So, here goes.

My earliest sports memory is a San Francisco Giants game I believe to be Saturday, August 24, 1963. I was 5. I really don’t recall who else attended in our group. I am almost certain Dad took us – he always did. I do know it was against the Reds and on the field that day I was incredibly fortunate to see six, YES six future Hall of Famers (Willie Mays, Willie McCovey, Frank Robinson, Orlando Cepeda, Gaylord Perry (SP) AND Pete Rose). AND there were many other notable players (Harvey Kuehn, Vada Pinson, Jose Pagan, Leo Cardenas to name but four). Did Dad know? It is but one of the many questions that replays in my head of conversations lost with Dad.

I’ve posted prior about my love of all things Oakland. Yes, it comes warts and all. AND not despite them, but largely because of them. I see myself in Oakland; I see Oakland in me. This love of all things sports Oakland was solidified in the early 70s. Oakland was, in my mind, the first City of Champions. The A’s, Raiders and Warriors (Dubs) ALL won “world” championships. Look it up!

My earliest Dubs memory was of a Dub named Lee. David Lee? No! Clyde Lee. Drafted in 1966 out of Vanderbilt he was mostly a journeyman NBA player. Unfortunately for Clyde, he was traded before the Dubs won their first championship in Oakland. So, why Clyde Lee? I’m reasonably certain it wasn’t a conscious decision on my part. After all, as kids, we just like who we like. I think now it was his journeyman status, his immense hustle, his very struggle to carve out an existence. AND I really don’t think this is revisionist history?!?

I love the intersection of things. I love the concept of the Venn Diagram and when things nearly virtually overlay on each other . . . NEARLY. Yes, sports stars in todays world (didn’t used to – OG!) in many ways live a life I couldn’t imagine. Yet! The rational and analytic side of me loves data, loves statistics, loves the predictability over a large sample size. I’ve made a career of this. Hell, I could argue I have made a life out of this simple concept. The emotional side of me is a fan. AND HERE IS WHERE THE CHALLENGE AND STRUGGLE LIES.

Last night I went to bed to read and fall asleep before the end of the first quarter of what ended up being the Dubs series clinching game 6 victory. Yes, I did miss the sheer joy of the W (get the Dub thing?). Yes, I did miss the phenomenon that is Game 6 Klay. Yes, I did miss Draymond being Draymond, Steph being Steph AND Looney being Hakeem the Dream! Why? Struggle! Struggle? My rational side was completely disconnected from my emotional side. To the point where I become quite challenging to be around . . . EVEN FOR ME! I just haven’t grown (or matured?) enough.

So, the title of this post? I would complete it this way . . an Amazingly Wonderful Performance Wrapped By Incredible Frustration. He is the poster child for the 2021-2022 Dubs. I hope to be able to open the Dub present – live.

THE STRUGGLE (LIFE’S ESSENCE?) CONTINUES!!

First, I want to commend Glen for his new “tendency” to go out and WANDER in the morning! My wanders often bring me the greatest joy of my day because…you just never know what you will find along the way. So below you will find some photos from today. I set out to Bywater Bakery to pick up some morning bagels (only on Fridays) and pastries. You may remember Saraghina Bakery in Brooklyn. It was a short 3 block walk and so I made that trip frequently. Bywater Bakery is a full 1.5 miles away and it’s hot and muggy even at 8:30 am so it’s a bit more of a trek…but worth it in so many ways! Happy Friday! Enjoy!