The Grown Up Life

For six years I've had this blog and turned to it when I needed to vent, but since I started college, my need to vent has significantly decreased. Or maybe I was just more egotistical and self-righteous in high school in thinking that people really cared to read what I was thinking. Whatever the reason for the dwindling number of posts, it's nice to know that when the time comes, I can come back and lay it all out there. Which is exactly what I plan on doing right now.

You know, I never actually wrote a blog after graduation. It's been over 18 months since I sat down to write, and I'm looking forward to putting the metaphorical pen to paper and airing how I've been feeling.

Maybe I never wrote about graduation because at the time I was so excited to be done with college. Or maybe it was because writing has fallen by the wayside in my life. Whatever the reason, I'll spend some time and rehash how it felt and where I'm at now, some 20 months later.

I'd say that in the grand scheme of college, graduation day ranks near the top in the "portrayed totally different than how it actually goes." The part where you have a speaker who awakens a fire in your belly and tells you to go forth and set the world on fire? We didn't have that. Our speaker was one of the guys who created the internet, which at face value sounds like just about one of the coolest accomplishments of the last hundred years, but in reality this guy droned on with a monotonous speech that could've come from any "Public Speaking for Dummies" book. Oh and also, the part where 30,000+ students toss their caps in unison? That doesn't happen either. I don't think I could get my family to all smile for a picture together, so how could we expect 30,000 loosely affiliated classmates to spring from their chairs simultaneously and triumphantly toss their caps?

My main point is this, beyond graduation signalling the end of your college career, it really isn't significant. It serves as a line of demarcation between student and grown up, with "grown up" being a loosely defined idea.

After graduation it was nice to have 2 months to relax before starting work. I got to travel to London & Ireland with Ally and so many other close friends. Those ten days were some of the best days of my life. I don't know what it was exactly that I liked so much about London and Ireland, but life there seemed so much more full. It's hard to compare the different cities we visited, but each one of them had their own pace and unique soul. If I had my way, I'd be spending at least 1 year of my life living and working full-time in Europe.

But as relaxing as those two months off were, the first four months of my new job were terrifying. I was okay with getting up early, taking the bus, and even putting in the 40 hours a week. What gave me anxiety was how little there was to do those first four months. I felt like I had been hired into a career with little to no prospects. Thankfully work has picked up since then and almost everyone in the office is loaded with work.

I really wouldn't have survived my first year with GT if it wasn't for my coworkers. I never expected it, but my coworkers are absolutely incredible. The people in the Pittsburgh office make life at GT bearable. They make coming into the office a worthwhile endeavor no matter how frustrating the commute can be. In a little over 18 months with the company, I've made lasting relationships with some truly good people. I think the most surprising part of the office camaraderie is everyone's willingness to buy into office-wide parties and events. From GT softball to decorating our office for the holidays, people take this shit seriously, and it feels good knowing the little things mean a lot to everyone. (Like staying in the office til 8 pm trying to make your desk look like a snow globe.)

Outside the Pittsburgh office, I've yet to find someone at GT that I didn't like working with. I've probably been on engagements with 15-20 other GT resources from all across the country, and the one thing I continually notice is that everyone is willing to help. Maybe I'm drawing from a small sample size, but the interactions I've had with associates, managers, and even partners have been overwhelmingly positive. From driving to D.C. & Baltimore with Brian, to 4 months in Indianapolis with Boyd, to 6 months in Indianapolis with Jake & Paul, I really have nothing to complain about. Life at GT is good. The pay and benefits are great, but the people are far and away what makes work worth it.

Aside from the normal work week, I spent 12 months studying for the CPA Exam. When I graduated, I had little to no interest in taking the exam. I wasn't even sure I had the credits to do so. Thanks to some urging from Pap & others close to me and financing from Mr. Faust, I decided I'd try to take the exam. I can honestly say that the exam humbled me in a way I've never experienced before. I went into the first exam feeling overly confident and left feeling like I got punched in the gut by a bunch of auditing standards. Thankfully, I did better than I thought, and luckily the last three exams followed the same path.

Me before the test: "I'm ready for this. I know as much as I could possibly know."
Me during the test: "Well maybe only knowing half isn't that bad."
Me after the test: "Yup I'm gonna have to pay another $250 to retake that bullshit test."
Me when the scores come out: "HOLY SHIT! Everyone else must've been really dumb!"

On a more serious note, I think that passing the exam is likely my most proud academic accomplishment. Graduating with a high GPA looks cool on a resume, but passing a standardized test on the first go-round when very few people do is a neat feeling. Beyond scoring well on the tests and passing the exam, the part that makes me most proud is how disciplined I had to be to get it done. Traveling to Indianapolis & Wilmington every week for 8 months meant that after when I got back to the hotel after work at 6:30 or 7, I had to eat dinner and study until I went to bed. I gave up a lot of weekends to studying, but now that it's behind me it's easy to say it was worth it. (If the outcome was different, I might not reflect on it so positively.)

So, more or less, that's where I'm at in my life. I'm 18 months into a job that I initially was very skeptical about, I've passed the CPA exam (still need 25 credits to be licensed, though), and I've got the rest of my life to look forward to. I think the next exam I'm going to prepare for it the GMAT or GRE. I've got all this free time after work now, I need something to fill the void in my life.

I want to get an MBA, I'm just having a hard time deciding where I'd like to go to get it. There are about ten schools that offer full-rides to 15% of the MBA students they accept, so realistically chances are small of being one of those 15%, but it seems like one of the best options. There are other schools that offer discounted tuition to members of Beta Gamma Sigma, which is another option. Beyond those two options, you can either go for a regional school with a decent program (RMU or Duquesne) or go for broke (literally) at one of the expensive "renowned" schools.

The good thing is that I'm in no rush. I'm content with my job, and I have the rest of my life to get more degrees. I'm not sure where my career path is headed, but there are plenty of things that peak my interest currently.

One Last Ride

So it's been almost 11 months since my last blog post. To say it's taken a backseat in my life would be a serious understatement. But if there's anything I want to write about and anything worth writing about, this past weekend is one of them.  

Two nights ago I played what will likely be the last meaningful baseball game in my life. This game comes some four years after my last high school game. At that point in my life I thought that high school baseball was the end of my athletic career. I had resigned myself to possibly only playing intramurals for the rest of my days. And honestly, I thought I was okay with that. 

When I started school at Fordham I had talked to my cousin Jarrett about potentially getting me in touch with his friend on the baseball team to see about trying to walk on. Nothing ever came of it and honestly I think that is for the best. When I got to Pitt and learned about club baseball I thought it sounded like a good deal. Serious baseball without the time commitment of a varsity sport, and along with that a lessened fear of failure. I remember emailing Perkey asking if I could tryout that spring. He informed me the team was set for that year and that I could try out the following spring. So I waited around and come fall of my sophomore year I somehow made the team. I'm pretty sure I was one of the last guys the officers decided to take, and at one point Cunliffe had told me he had written "cut" next to my name on the tryout sheet. 

Sophomore year was filled with intermittent playing time and an upsetting loss in regionals. I remember standing in the right field grass listening to Fitz and Cunliffe share their bits on the entire experience. I knew then that PCB was about a lot more than just playing baseball. I knew I never wanted to see myself in their shoes (no offense guys). I just didn't want it to end like that. I didn't think I could handle it.

Fast forward another year where we picked up some quality guys, and bonds from the previous year continued to strengthen. Based on the season we had leading up to the regional tournament I was convinced we were going to go to the World Series. But after two games dropped to Penn State I saw another season come to a close. Disappointment doesn't do justice to the emotions I was feeling at that time. I remember riding home with Toby just reflecting on what had happened. I couldn't believe we came so close and managed to fall short. Moving forward I knew I wanted to make it back to regionals and escape with a more favorable outcome. 

Before I knew it the tryouts had come and gone and we had selected a team. I knew right then we had a group that (given some time) could win regionals and maybe the World Series. We had plenty of shaky games throughout the year. But somehow we always managed to pull it out. No matter how many runs we were down or how many outs we had left, we always seemed to remain cool and keep faith that we were in total control of the outcome. By the time our last series came around the idea of going undefeated didn't seem out of the realm of possibilities. Those three games came and went like so many before: a lot of ups and downs, but nonetheless we made it out with three wins under our belt.

As I prepared for regionals I came to terms with the fact that my playing career could come to an end that weekend. I had prepared a speech for the guys if we were to lose that weekend. I don't think I'll ever forget regionals this year for so many reasons. From the outset our entire team was playing to prove that we deserved the number one ranking we had been given several weeks prior. Beyond that, Delaware and their president had been under the impression that they deserved to be ranked higher than us because of the hellacious beatings they were dishing out. After Delaware lost their first game to UMass and we beat Boston College, I had a good feeling about the weekend. Delaware then eliminated Boston College after we dismissed UMass and before Sunday's games could be played the miserable weather rolled in.

The most memorable part (possibly of my entire PCB career) came that afternoon not on a baseball field like you might expect but rather in a Wegman's cafe. The NCBA informed us that we had to play a final game to eliminate the winner of UMass and Delaware and that we would have to stick around until Monday to do so. I remember Edge telling us that he had no problem forfeiting the game if need be because we had been dealt a shitty hand. We pleaded with him to tell the NCBA we wouldn't be able to field a team, which wasn't totally accurate because we had 12 guys who said they could definitely stay but those 12 didn't make up our best lineup. When the NCBA said we either play or forfeit the number of guys staying went from 12 to 22. We're talking about guys missing class and work and doing so with less than 24 hours warning. 

I remember Edge looking at me and saying (excuse my/his language), "Fuck it. Let's go win the whole thing." I teared up. No joke. Seeing a group of guys cancel flights home and call their bosses saying they couldn't come in gave me such a rush. Looking back on that day maybe I shouldn't be so surprised. We worked all year and suddenly someone who didn't know us was telling us we might have to forfeit. But we didn't. We stayed and we played. Long story short of the next day is this: we went out and beat UMass handily. We won the regional championship and we did so without our entire team. It was a bittersweet feeling not having everyone there to see it happen though. 

Now don't get me wrong, winning regionals was a rush I won't soon forget, but the thought of winning a World Series trumps any regional title. I knew going into the World Series that we didn't have the most talented team in the tournament. That's just the honest to god truth. But there wasn't a doubt in my mind that we could still win the whole damn thing. We didn't, though. We won our first game handily and then dropped a tough contest against Nevada. We had finally lost our first game. We lost our first game of the season on May 30th. We played 33 games and hadn't suffered defeat once. And wouldn't you know, we ended up losing back to back games. Our bats went silent and our pitchers just didn't have their best stuff. The truth is that we got outplayed. We showed up and didn't play as well as we should have...as well as we could have. And in a matter of 24 hours we went from undefeated, undisputed number 1 team in the country to our season being over. We went 247 days and 33 games without being beaten and in a matter of 24 hours we lost two games and our season was over. I'm not gonna lie, it's a shitty way for a season to end. But that's life. Colorado State had a better night than us and we didn't deserve to win. 

I can honestly say that the three games at the World Series were three of my worst games at the plate in my entire PCB career. I felt like I let my teammates down. I gave it all that I had and I simply couldn't execute. When all was said and done I simply didn't perform. But it would be selfish to make those three games about me. If I could go back and replay those at bats I would do it. I would do it a hundred times over to try and get them all right. Not because I give a shit about being 0 for 10 but because I didn't want to stop playing my favorite game with my best friends. Stats, accolades, and winning percentages all look really cool on paper, but at the end of the day that's all they're good for. You can't share a laugh with them or tell them some stupid joke. You can't ask their opinion of a memory you shared or tell them your life goals. You can only do that with friends. And in three years of playing club baseball I made some of the best friends a guy could ask for. They're short tempered, loud, in your face, brilliant, deranged, and beyond comical. They're some of the most ragtag individuals but somehow when you put them on a baseball field it all works.

I'm not sad because I didn't win a World Series title. I'm sad because I won't get to play ball with the guys I care most about. I don't care that we didn't get to dogpile one last time, I care that I won't get to share anymore 5 hour car rides with my buddies. 

You see, I've been around plenty of varsity athletes and while the experience they're afforded is unimaginable, I wouldn't trade club baseball for the world. Playing a club sport gave me a much greater appreciation for a game that I've always loved. Something about paying to play makes you feel more inclined to show up and put your time in. PCB reminded me why baseball is such a great sport. There isn't another sport where succeeding 3 out of 10 times means you're great. It's a game where you're setup to fail. 

But I don't think our team failed this year. We lost two games, sure, but failing would've been something far less gratifying than what I felt this year. To me success can be measured by the amount of time you're happy compared to the amount of time you're dissatisfied. This season the highs far outweighed the lows. Losing two games in a row hurt like hell, but winning 33 in a row before that will always be what I remember. 

When I look back at my college career one of the first things that will come to mind is PCB. And when my kids ask me what it was like I won't remember losing in the World Series. I'll tell them about the car rides and hotel stays with the mod squad. I'll tell them about the gator trip and dinners at Sonny's. I'll tell them about 28 guys having an undefeated regular season and regional tournament. And when I tell them about the World Series I'll tell them about how beautiful the field was, about how insignificant and small the surrounding town was, about how Brett knew every European capital I asked him about, and I'll tell them that the worst part of it for me was that Toby wasn't there to experience it with me. 

I will most definitely miss the rush of laying down a bunt or running down a fly ball in the gap, but that isn't what I'll miss most. 

I'll miss the late nights in the cost center. I'll miss the balls ricocheting off of the wire when we're long tossing (you know, the one night a week where we had more than a third of the field for practice). I'll miss hitting groups where Edge has his phone playing music. I'll miss the non business majors harassing us for "majoring in Excel." I'll miss those grueling car rides to Florida where everyone is forced to become closer than they ever planned. I'll miss having a real reason to go to the gym and put in work. I'll miss (and it kills me to admit this) playing on Trees Field. I'll miss being known as the kid who tried out in black baseball pants and rec specs. I'll miss the inside jokes and the constant harassment that was so easily thrown around. I'll miss looking in the stands, no matter what state we were  playing in, and seeing my family there to support me. I'll miss it all.

PCB has given me more than I could ever give it. It's left a mark on my college experience that is impossible to erase. All I can hope is that I've been able to contribute something, no matter how small, to the sport and team that gave me the best experience of my college career. 

So thank you baseball. Thank you PCB. Thank you to the guys who came before me, my teammates, and the guys who have yet to put on the PCB jersey. You guys made it all worth it. 

"We the twenty-eight, under one system..."

33

Now usually this whole thing goes the other way around, a mother saying how proud she is of her son, but I feel like my mom deserves some recognition for doing what she did.

About a month ago my mom retired. At the age of 57 years young she was able to walk away from the career she started over three decades ago. That is absolutely incredible to think about. My mom spent nearly 60% of her life as a teacher at Montour. Over the course of her teaching career she saw over 6,000 students pass through from freshman to seniors, and for a large portion of that time she was in charge of their graduation projects. She was an English teacher, head of the graduation projects, and in her earlier years of teaching the volleyball coach and head of prom planning.

My mom has run the gamut when it comes to being a teacher. She's seen every type of student this world has to offer. The underachiever, the overachiever, the goody two-shoes, the stoner, and everyone in between.

For as long as I can remember I always wanted to be a school teacher like my mom. I would tell her, "Mom I want to be a teacher like you!" And when she asked why that was I would exclaim, 'Because I'd still get every summer off!" As I grew older I realized that there is so much more to being a teacher than having your summers off from work. I'm not sure, but it seems like making a difference in someone's life would far surpass spending summers at the pool. Even if it's just one kid whose outlook on life or literature changes as a result of your teaching it seems like it would be worth it. I'm sure my mom would agree. One really passionate student with a thirst for knowledge makes up for a hundred of his less enthused peers.

I know that in my life I had a handful of teachers who made a significant impact in my life, and I'm sure that my mom had that very same impact on some students over the past 33 years.

And yet, somehow, we don't give teachers nearly the recognition and respect they deserve. Without teachers what would this world be? I imagine that for the most part it would be barbaric. We'd be a society of illiterate, unknowledgeable fools. Teachers are there to lead us on a path to discovery. They are there to wow us and show us things we never knew could exist. They rule over us and guide us to be the best versions of ourselves that we can be. In a lot of cases they believe in us more than we believe in ourselves. They expose us to so much about the world. They make us question the truths we initially viewed as absolute, and they encourage us to never stop learning through constant questioning. In layman's terms, teachers make us think for ourselves when we'd rather blindly follow. Teachers in America aren't compensated the way they should be. That's my honest opinion. They deserve so much more than we give them.

And yet, a select few continue to choose to educate us.

Somewhere amidst all the teaching, coaching, and planning she was doing, my mom managed to meet my dad. Then soon after they were married she got to embark on the greatest teaching plan of her life...becoming a mom. I can say from first hand experience that even though I never sat in my mom's classroom as a legitimate student she is the best teacher in the world. Her teaching prepared her for motherhood, there is no doubt about it. I can't even begin to recount the numerous lessons she's taught me. Or the number of times she has edited a paper for me. Or the multiple occasions where she would also serve as a geometry tutor. My mom is a jack of all trades and master of a few. One of her masteries is her love of and ability to read books. It's also a something that she's passed on to Jenny and I over the years. When I see Jenny crack open a book or pull out her Nook, I see a little part of my mom shining through. It's a beautiful thing to see.

I remember take your child to work day in elementary school consisted of switching off year after year. One year I'd be with my dad at Alliance Retail and the next year I'd be wandering around the halls of Montour High School. I remember that when I went to work with my dad I would do things like walk around from office to office collecting what I considered "goodies" (in reality they were just paper clips and different pens, but I thought they were the bees knees). But when I went to school with mom I would watch her teach her classes. It was like 7 year old me actually belonged in a class with kids over twice my age. I would spend part of the day playing games on her computer, and when no kids were in the room I would throw a bouncy ball off the walls and desks. But the thing I looked forward to most were the times my mom would ask a question to her class and nobody would know the answer, so I would raise my little hand as high as I could and she would call on me. See I always knew the answers because I heard it from her a class period earlier. Mom would look over at me and I'd answer the question with a huge grin on my face, as if I had just outwitted one of the world's greatest minds. And she'd smile and me and make a quick quip at her class about how even I knew the answer. Funny how you remember little things like that.

Also, for as long as I've been alive my mom has had a stack of papers to grade. It doesn't seem to matter what time of year or day of the week, she always had a stack of papers to read or tests to grade. And each and every paper, without fail, was graded with the same brand and style of red pen. They're her favorite pens. And even though she always seemed to have some work to do, she managed to make time for family first. If it meant reading papers at one of my soccer or baseball games she would do it. Family always, ALWAYS came first.

In her last few years as a teacher mom grew tired of the new, "fun" environment she was supposed to be creating for her students. She felt like as time passed more and more kids were beginning to care less and less about school. The general level of apathy seemed to skyrocket. Over and over again she was dealing with parents of students who said, "why did my son get this grade? He didn't deserve that!" And I know my mom coolly gave each parent the same levelheaded answer, when she deserved to tell those parents to go to hell. Because honestly is there anything worse than a high school senior who needs his/her mom or dad to go fight with a teacher about a grade?

'The truth of the matter, ma'am, is that your son/daughter is a lazy, incompetent, unmotivated slob."

But she never got to say that, and frankly it isn't her style to behave like that. She's much to elegant and formal to ever stoop to that level of behavior.

And that's just another reason why I'm so proud of her. She's much more diplomatic than I'll ever be.

There aren't enough words in my head or heart to explain how proud I am of my mom.

She could probably help me out with selecting some more stirring words, but that would ruin the sentiment. I'll just stick to the basics and let her tell me ways I could've spiced it up. She'll also probably read through this later on and make a mental note of the number of commas I misused or omitted.

Luckily for me she'll be reading it on her iPad so she can't use that damned red pen to correct me.

So here's to my favorite teacher, who was also my first teacher, who is also my mom. I love you mom, and I've very grateful for everything you've done for our family.

NP: Hey Mama - Kanye

Lucky Part 2

So last time I blogged I wrote about how I was feeling lucky. But what isn't fair is that I didn't specifically mention one of the biggest reasons I feel so lucky. I sort of lumped this reason in with friends and family, never taking the time to specify what it was. Or who is was, rather. 

I know that not writing about her had made her upset. Not because she ever expected a blog specifically about her but because she had read blogs from the past that were aimed at specific individuals. Time and time again I would blog about things that came to mind, and yet I never specifically mentioned her by name. I know that made her question things between us. So this blog is for the girl who's made the past 11 months of my life some of the best. This one's for you, Allison.

There's not really a right place to start this, I don't think. I guess it could start was back in January of 2014 when I first met her. If there's one thing the Pi has given me it's her. She was sitting in the crowd listening to me talk about why someone should join our coed fraternity. I never got to talk to her that night, and I don't think our first real interaction came until the interview process. I remember exactly where we sat in Market for our interview. I remember I ate a salad and then texted her after the interview because there were Lucky Charms. (I don't remember who was asking about the cereal, me or her, but for some reason that has resonated with me.) Aside from our interview I never got to talk to her because of the whole "fear of hazing" thing. But when April rolled around and she was officially a brother we dove head first into really getting to know each other. Before long I was spending time in Holland and she was coming over to my jank apartment to have me cook her spaghetti...I guess I should've known then that she was a keeper since she didn't flee from that hell hole.

But then summer came around. And as much as we said, "we'll visit," I honestly wasn't sure what would happen. I had only really been talking to her for two weeks. But summer came and went and saw us visiting each other four or five times. On one excursion to Hershey I decided I didn't want to wait any longer and I asked her to be my girlfriend. She probably thought it was the corniest thing ever since it came right after watching "The Fault in Our Stars," but she said yes. (On second thought that's a pretty depressing movie to choose as the one you ask a girl out after.) I forgot to mention that somewhere between the start of summer and me asking her out she was lucky enough to meet my crazy family and vice versa. She warned me about how dysfunctional hers was and I warned her about mine (more specifically about my dad). But things went better than expected and I like to think both families genuinely enjoy the others company. 

Then the school year rolled around and I had zero idea what to expect from it. I didn't know what it would be like to have a girlfriend that goes to school with me. 

It turned out to be one of the best things I could ever ask for. I was instantly given another study buddy, a new proof reader, a movie companion, someone to workout with, and someone to go out with. Now we're over a year into a relationship and I can look back and say I wouldn't change any of it. We've had our ups and downs like anyone, but those have only helped us to better understand one another. 

I wish I would've wrote this blog sooner because honestly she deserves it. I guess I was just too caught up in the moment. See I used feel like writing a blog was the only way to get people to notice me. That's the honest to god truth. People responded to blogs. It made me more interesting or more appealing because I was spilling it all on some website and people got to pick me apart and see what I was all about. But with Ally I didn't need a blog. I just needed to be myself. So the blog took a backseat and I only wrote when something really pressing came to mind. But it's high time I gave her something to look at. 

She's done so much for me I can't even begin to thank her for it. But I think the number one thing I need to thank her for isn't helping me win a scholarship for next year. (Which she did. She told me about it and helped me write my essays.) In fact the bigger thing I have to thank her for is for being the most honest and loyal friend someone could ever ask for. She transcends what it means to be a girlfriend because she's honestly my best friend too. She's the one I want to talk to morning and night and the one I plan my adventures with. And through all of it she makes me a better version of myself. More than anyone else in college she's opened my eyes to the effects some words can have on people. Things I took for granted I now see the full weight of. And even though we bicker back and forth about politics, she's opened my eyes to other viewpoints that I previously discredited. 

She's so many things to me. Documentary aficionado. Movie critic. Political complement. Ice cream lover.  My better half, my girlfriend, and my best friend. 

And because of that, I feel like I'm the luckiest guy I know. 

NP: You Had Me at Hello - ADTR

3/4 of the way there

As my third year of college comes to a close I've come to some conclusions. I guess recently I've been feeling especially fortunate and I just wanted to comment on it all. 

First and foremost is the realization that I've been blessed with an overwhelmingly supportive and loving family. If their support wasn't obvious in weekly trips to the grocery store maybe it is even more exaggerated in repeated "good luck on finals" texts in the family group message. Or maybe I have the best family because they show up in State College to watch me play after I tell them countless times not to bother. I think it's apparent that I've been given one of the greatest gifts in life: a family who wants nothing more than for me to succeed and be there to see it happen. 

The second realization is something I've been reluctant to admit, and that's the fact that I'm a fairly lucky person. For the longest time I said I didn't believe in luck, but I don't think I can say I firmly believe that's the case anymore. How could I have so much good in my life if I weren't, to some degree or another, a lucky person? Maybe it's true that to a certain point you make your own luck. I don't think I could make this  much luck in this life of mine. I've been afforded so many great opportunities while in college and can't pretend that there isn't some hint of luck involved. I'm not necessarily talking about luck in a "hit the lottery" type of sense, but more like having such a loving family and incomparable friends. If there is some greater force at work I'm grateful to him or her or it. 

Friends are the third realization I've had. It's not that I was unaware of how good I had it, but sometimes it takes a memorable trip to remind me just how special a bond I have with so many people. I've been "lucky" to not only keep my best friends from high school but to also make a new group of friends in college. Whether it's a group of them in the Bronx, in Oakland, or even in Charlottesville I can't help but smile when I think about the number of people who have had an impact on my life since I started college. I don't know what I did to deserve such a great group of people who take me in and love me, but whatever it is I hope it never fades away. The defining moment of our most recent trip to Charlottesville came at the tail end of the trip. It was a moment that showed me how powerful friendships and genuine laughs can be. We had just got milkshakes and prepared to drop Amanda and her roommate Kara off at the apartment before heading home. As we said our goodbyes Kara started to tear up. At first she seemed to be doing it jokingly, but after a minute or so she was full on crying. Now Kara has only met our group of friends a few times, which made her crying even more surprising. Her crying made my day and broke my heart. It made me sad that we had to leave, but it showed me that even though our group of friends is seemingly just a group of potty mouthed jagoffs, we have the ability to sincerely connect with people. I guess amidst all our dysfunction is an immeasurable level of genuine caring. We bicker a lot, we might even full on fight, but at the end of the day we give a damn about each other and the world at large. And honestly I'm not sure you can say that about everyone you'll meet. 

I doubt I deserve everything that I've come into in my three years of college, but I'm not about to complain. This luck is my luck. I've made some of it, and I've been gifted some of it. I'm aware that there are people out there who don't have what I do. I wish they did, though. 

Everyone deserves those friendships that make the complexities and difficulties of life seen much less daunting. The type of friends you truly feel alive with. The ones you'd kill for and die for. I have that, and I'm eternally thankful for it. 

I guess these three points aren't so much conclusions or realizations as they are acknowledgments, but I still felt the need to get them out there. I don't write all that often anymore, but after this weekend I felt it was necessary to express how blessed I feel. 

NP: Bright - Echosmith

The Best Man

I wrote this blog the day after Pap's birthday this year. I'm not sure what took me a month and a half to post it, but here it is...

January 30, 1936. 

That is the day that the best man I've ever known was born. 

That man is my grandfather, Richard Charles Spine. 

Although I've mentioned Pap quite a lot in previous posts I don't believe I've ever written one specifically about him, which is shameful seeing as he's one of the more influential men in my life. So here's to you, Pap. Hopefully this post can capture even a fraction of how grateful and inspired I am by you.

I can't say I remember the first time I was consciously aware of Pap being my grandfather. You know how sometimes you're able to recount your first memory with a person? I can't do that with him, but maybe that's because in my 20 (almost 21) years of life I've been through so much with him. 

I do remember some of the earliest memories coming from Herbst Road, though. Memories filled with the smell of roses, the taste of lemonade, and the sight of my beautiful grandmother, Nan. I remember the tennis ball hanging in the garage to show the previous generation's drivers how far to pull in. I remember the glass kitchen table where we'd play go fish, the backyard where we'd play wiffle ball from time to time, and I remember the basement. Herbst Road was a magical place. It wasn't anything grand or gaudy, it was old-fashioned and comforting. 

Perhaps my first memory with Pap comes from watching "The Pink Panther" movies together. (The old ones with Peter Sellers not Steve Martin.) Every time I came over he would tell me to pick what movie I wanted to watch, so little me would walk over to the movie cabinet behind the couches and come back with one of the Pink Panther movies. We had to have watched those movies 50 times, but Pap was a good sport. He'd never tell me to pick something else. Instead, he'd sit on the floral couch while I sprawled out on the floor, and tougher we would laugh until we cried at the bumbling Chief Inspector Jacques Clouseau. 

If there is one thing in this world Pap enjoys, it's a good movie. 

Aside from memories of Herbst Road I remember my first (and really my only) golf instructor being my grandpa. I'm sure I remember having a set of those plastic golf clubs as a young child. And as soon as I was old enough to be trusted with metal clubs, I had them. Thanks to him. He would take my small, childish self out to Chartiers in the early evening some afternoons, after the other golfers had finished, and we would walk a few holes and he'd let me play. He never got frustrated with me at that age. 

However, as I've grown I've seen him become perturbed when I get upset on the course. I'm very much like my grandfather in the sense that I want to be the best and I expect to do well every time I step on the course. However, when you only get to play a few rounds of golf a year you can't expect to break 80, but I still expect that. So I get mad and then Pap gets upset. And that's the worst. On another note, it blows my mind how I can manage to outdrive him by 100 yards and still finish a stroke behind him on every hole. I guess it comes down to, "Drive for show, putt for go," as he always says. 

In Chartiers there's a plaque with his name on it for winning some sort of event that the club has. I love looking at that plaque because even though Pap isn't the flashiest golfer, he is one of the hardest working golfers, and that plaque gives him his due credit. Each time we meet up in the summer he has at least one article clipped from a golf magazine that he thinks will help me. (They never seem to, but that's my fault not his.)

It's our little bond, golf that is, and I hope I never take it for granted. Because I know that one day I won't be able to play with him anymore. And I expect that'll be one of the saddest days of my life. 

But sad days and Pap don't really go together. 

Only happy days. 

If there's anybody on this earth who deserved true love it's Pap. And he found it in Nan. And even in losing her he found it again a short time later with Joyce. I think that some remarriages are meant specifically to fill a void, but that isn't Pap and Joyce. They don't pretend to always get along. They're real. They bicker and fight and make up and love and laugh. They also golf together which provides some comic relief when Pap hits a rogue shot and it's Joyce's fault for not knowing where it went. Joyce can take it though. She just rolls her eyes at him and drives off in search of the missing ball. 

If there are two things Pap has taught me in life it's how to work hard and how to joke around.

Pap has always had at least two jobs. He's told me stories about hitchhiking to work at 5 in the morning and not getting home until 12 am the next day. Even in college, with a wife and kid, he managed to work a job to help support them. Pap has accumulated a lot of wealth in his years, and yet he manages to be frugal and never forget how things were when money was tight.

Pap enjoys his money, don't get me wrong. He enjoys taking wonderful vacations all across the world, but he deserves at least that for everything he's done. But he'll never hesitate to bring a coupon for a dollar off a loaf of bread. (Maybe it's just the business man inside him.) I guess he just doesn't see the point in spending more than you have to. Especially since you worked for that money. 

You know that plaque I mentioned earlier? There's another plaque, or maybe even two of them. They're in the basement of the house on Bayard. They're plaques thanking him for his philanthropy. One is complete with a drawing from the Make-a-Wish kid who's wish Pap helped grant. 

He taught me that too. Give back to people who need it.

But I digress from my earlier point about jokes. Pap LOVES jokes. He loves telling "dirty" jokes like this one... "Wanna hear a dirty joke?" ..."a pig fell in the mud."

Now granted, that is by far one of his cheesiest jokes, but you get the point. Pap lives to make people laugh. 

Pap's laugh isn't one of those over-the-top, feigned laughs. It's just a chuckle. Short, sweet, sincere, and honest. Pap won't pretend like your jokes are funnier than the are. He's not here to butter you up. He's here to give you his honest opinion of things. 

Like his honest, totally unbiased opinions of his grandkids and they skill sets...okay so maybe I'm not the best outfielder he's ever seen play, but I'll be damned if he's ever said that to me. In his eyes I'm the best there is, just like Maura's the best field hockey player in the nation, Jenny the best cheerleader, Jarrett the best runner, John the best goalie, Emily the best singer, Joey the best mind. The point is that none of us are actually the best, but Pap would never let you think that way. His unwavering support is seen in his attendance of sporting events (no matter what the weather) and in his words of encouragement. Pap is a realist, but he'll never crush your dreams. 

I remember how excited he was when I got into Fordham and how understanding he was when I said I wanted to leave. 

He wasn't disappointed in me. He just wanted what was best for me, whatever would make me happiest. 

And now as I near 21 I'll be able to partake in one of Pap's other great passions, drinking wine. To Pap wine is a complement to food, it's a history, it's a talking point, and it's an investment. Whenever I get a chance I go over and help him sort and take inventory of his wine I always go.  I'll ask him about wine that I already know the story of just because I like to hear him tell it again. His stories, no matter how many times he tells them, always come with the same passion and excitement they did the first time. Pap's wine comes from far and wide. Some bought before I was born, some gifted to him from winery owners, and others, well others we don't even know how they got there. 

Pap has taught me so much that I can't even begin to relay it all to you in this blog. But I'll give you a few lessons I've learned from my experiences with him.

I've learned that a shot from the rough isn't a hindrance, it's an adventure. I've learned that a tap in putt still needs to be taken as seriously as a 25 footer. I've learned that you can shoot a 95 and still have a great day on the course. I've learned that convenience=cost. And I've learned that an old man can still whoop his grandson by just being smarter.

This blog is scrambled and it isn't pretty, but it is from the heart. 

I'll leave you with a quote I think describes to my grandfather and a song that always reminds me of him.

Of him... the best man I've ever known.

“If you wish to glimpse inside a human soul and get to know a man, don't bother analyzing his ways of being silent, of talking, of weeping, of seeing how much he is moved by noble ideas; you will get better results if you just watch him laugh. If he laughs well, he's a good man.” 

NP: My Way-Frank Sinatra

a death in the family

Even though this title might have given you the impression that a person in my family has died, that is not the case. However, a special part of my family is gone, and even though it probably seems a little silly it's the truth. A few days ago my parents had to put down our dog, Nikki, and I couldn't be more heartbroken.

Even though Nikki was just a dog she was a part of our family. She came into our lives at a tumultuous time. We got her as a puppy about nine months before my dad went away to rehab. She was with us for around 7 years and for the most part she brought us all together a little better than before we had her. 

To me, Nikki was a dog, but she was also a reminder of how I had to grow up. When dad was away at rehab I would be the one to wake up early and take her out to pee. That was a special time between Nikki and I. My dad was always her favorite and while he was gone you could tell she was a little bit let down. 

I'd be lying if i said there weren't times I wanted to strangle Nikki because there definitely were. Like the times you'd take her out to pee in the dead of winter and she'd roll around in the snow for 25 minutes while you'd freeze your ass off. Or the times she'd pee in the house when you really needed to leave but couldn't leave because you had to clean up her mess. 

But the good far outweighed the bad. That's for sure. 

Like the times you'd be having a bad day and be pissed off at the world and she'd come up to you and rest her head on your lap with that innocent look on her face. Or when she'd jump up on the couch and cuddle up next to you despite you telling her not to. 

In a lot of ways a dog is like a child of yours. You watch them grow up and eventually you have to say goodbye. Nikki started out a tiny little puppy who was scared of everything from thunder to her puppy gate, and as she grew up she became more mature and learned what she could and couldn't do. And as she got older she became sick. And as sad as that was for my family I wish I could've been around more for it because I knew she didn't have much left in the tank. I said bye to her before we left for Florida, and honestly I wasn't sure if I'd see her again or not. It turns out that that was the last time I got to see my baby. 

It's right now that I wish I had spent more time with her. All the times I rushed out the door without petting her a few extra times or the times I could've just laid with her and chose not to. I guess that dogs are family, and sometimes you don't really know what you'll be missing until you've lost it. I guess all pets are like that. You sort of take them for granted, never fully realizing the impact they have on your life until much later. 

For me Nikki impacted my life everyday. From taking her out to pee to stepping over the baby gates that kept her from running upstairs she was always a part of my day. I now realize how big a part she was. I wish I could ease some of the pain that my dad is feeling because Nikki was his best friend. She brought out the truly loving side of him. He loved that dog to pieces and would've done anything for her. Hell, he did everything he could up until the last days of her life. Towards the end of her life he would pick her up and take her out to pee, and the night before they put her down he laid on the floor in the sun room with her to keep her from crying, and when he knew it was her time to go he had her put down. 

My dad loved that dog the way any person should love someone else. He loved her selflessly. He put in everything he could and never expected anything in return. The only thing he got back was a little friend that stood about 3 feet tall. He did everything he could and he knew when she needed to go that he had to say goodbye. I know everyone in my family will be hurting for a while, but if there is such a thing as heaven then I know Nikki is up there right now. Probably eating food and rolling around in the snow. That's when she was the happiest.

I miss my dog, but I know she's better off now. And I know that to some degree she helped shape not only me but my family, and for that I'm eternally thankful. 

NP: Kids - Of Monsters and Men Cover