Day 1: Long Beach

The red-eye flight was a sux on a scale of 1 to 10. The Boeing 757-200 was comfortable and I had my bulkhead seat, but I just didn’t sleep.

The approach over the south side of Long Island was beautiful. It has been maybe 5 years since I landed at JFK in the morning. That’s a side effect of being brand-loyal (frequent flyer loyal) to a carrier that has a hub in Newark.

I am a bit off my game today, not as sharp and on point as I normally am when I travel. That means that the likelihood of me leaving something behind is an order of magnitude higher than normal. In fact, it’s just a matter of time.

My dad met me at the airport, gave me the keys to his car and I drove us to Long Beach, my boyhood home. During the ride Dad told me stories he has told me a hundred times before, then he asked, “have I told you this before?”. I smile and told him yes, but to keep telling it.

My dad and I met our long-time friend in Long Beach for breakfast at the Laurelton Diner. The Diner as it’s known as in our family is an old-style Long Island diner, where friends meet for coffee and a meal. It’s a place to eat And talk. I remember going there as a small boy with my mom. As much as the peanut butter and banana pancake stack called to me, I had to pass. As we walked outside, I remember the movie theater that used to be next to the diner. It closed 40 years ago, but I still a faded memory to me.

After that we went down to the beach to see the progress that has ben made in repairing the devastation caused by Hurricane Sandy.There was a cleanup event scheduled that day and as much as I wanted to volunteer to help clean up this town that I hold dear, I had other priorities this day.

From there Dad and I went to Starbucks to do nothing. We sat for about 45 minutes and hung out, talking, laughing but without saying too much. I reorganized my carry-on bags some for my next flight. This second consecutive red-eye was going to have to go better than the first.

From there we met old family friends for pizza at Gino’s Pizzeria in Long Beach. It was good to catch up and hear the comings and goings since we last sat down. It was also wonderful to catch up with some New York style pizza with old friends. That particular pizzeria was another place I went with my Mom when I was small. I have also been there with my wife and daughter. It was nice to pile a few more family memories there.

From there we made a few shopping stops along the way to my day’s house. He laid down for a nap while I sat and caught up with my half-sister and stepmother. After a quick Facetine with my half-brother in Florida it was time to head to the airport for flight #3.

All in all, I was able to tell eight different people that I love them face to face. There are lots of things to do on New York, and on this day, nothing was more important than being with these special people.

This was a layover well spent and worth the double red eye flights.

Next Stop:

Day 0: The Cheat

So here it begins, the big journey.

The first leg is a bit if a cheat. I am flying from Orange County to San Francisco. From there, I fly to JFK for a half-day layover.

I could have flown out of LAX to get to JFK, but I i) hate LAX and ii) was not having my ladies drive to LA and back on a Friday night.

I could have flown into Newark directly as I usually do, but then I would have wasted time getting to Long Island. This semi-circuitous route to JFK gets me 12 hours on the island and maximum face time with my dad.

Time to board. Catch you all later.

Back in the Saddle Again

I rode my bike to today for the first time in a what seems like forever.

Back in the saddle again

Last summer, my bike was the unfortunate victim of my busy life. If you read my post, A Day in the Life you may recall that I keep a pair of black dress shoes at my desk so that when I ride to work, I can change from my riding boots to dress shoes. Stuck between busy and hating to go shopping, I never replaced those work shoes when the leather wore out last spring. My bike was then relinquished to only coming out on casual Fridays.

Bikes are made for riding, more than once a week and more than 2 miles to and from work.  Mechanical problems started setting in, including the old battery dying.  Even though it was on a battery charger all week, it wouldn’t keep a charge.  I had to push start it a few times last summer and after it died in the middle of the street late last summer, I got frustrated and decided to park the bike until I time magically freed itself up.

I only needed to go out, jack up the bike and replace the battery with a new one,  but I never made time.   Maybe I just didn’t want to. Eventually, Like the guy in Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, I gave in and had my neighbor trailer the bike down to my mechanic. I disappointed myself in that I didn’t make time to  take care of something that so enriches my life.

When I picked up the bike at the shop, the curmudgeonly mechanic had a few words for me. He told me that he had a conversation with my bike and that it wanted to be taken on long rides. I acknowledged that I understood and that I would take care of it.  I didn’t tell him that I would soon be on the road again, but in an airplane.

It felt good to be riding again. I took the long way to work in the morning and again after lunch. I missed being undistracted and alone with my thoughts. I remembered how riding shakes up my creative juices and fills my spirit up. I feel like I have gotten a dimension of my life back that I abandoned in the garage.

I realized that there was this cascade of seemingly unrelated events: shoes wore out lead to the bike breaking down, lead to a loss of creativity which lead to a low-level of dissatisfaction with several aspects of life. All of which started with me being just too busy. It brought a new take to the Socratic warning: “Beware of the barrenness of a busy Life.”

For now I just need to find a second pair of black shoes to keep at work. Maybe when I get back from my travels?

Daybreak

Sleep was abbreviated by a recurring dream.  The clock read 5am and as I wasn’t going back to sleep any time soon I rolled out of bed.   I sat on the couch for a while thinking.  After failing to find any deep meaning in this incarnation of the dream, I set it aside.

Bird songs rang through the living room windows drawing me into the chilly early morning air of my back yard.   I took my seat my skychair and listened to the birds open for the morning sun.   It was both peaceful and simple.

It felt good to sit and do nothing for a long while.  I sent a short piece of morning video to my sister in London and then later Facetimed with my dad in New York.

My father and I chatted about the events in Boston.  After we hung up, I thought about the polarity of opinions about whether the bomber should be read his Miranda rights or not.  I found the matter to be much adu about nothing and like my dream, I put it aside.

As the sun moved higher in the sky, my feet started to warmup.  It was good to feel the chill being driven out. If only it were always that easy. Eventually, I started to feel like I might need sunscreen.

After I uploaded the video of the sunrise, Youtube presented me of another video called Daybreak.  This one referenced the song by Barry Manilow.   I smiled as the feelings associated with this late 70′s old feel-good song washed over me and I felt inclined to include it in this post.  In case your don’t remember, the chorus goes:

Yes, and it’s daybreak
If you wanna believe, it can be daybreak
Ain’t no time to grieve
Said it’s daybreak, if you’ll only believe
And let it shine, shine, shine
All around the world (let’s sing, sing it to the world)
C’mon and let it shine, shine, shine
All around the world

 

Eventually, the real world caught up to me.  Laura came outside to tell me it was 8:19am and remind me that I had to be out the door at 8:30am.   Time to go.

Have a great weekend.

This Day begins NOW

This Day begins NOW.

This Day begins as it will end… in cold darkness.

This day begins

As the fish doesn’t recognize water, we will effortlessly swim through This Day, most of us not realizing that it is here.

And regardless of whether This Day brings you blessings, curses or something in between, one thing is certain

This Day will pass silently like a breath from yesterday and the blink from day before.

Geeking on Cuba

On this second day of the cruise aboard the Disney Fantasy, we were scheduled to have Cuba on the port side of the ship for most of the afternoon. I went a bit geeky.

At 11am, I went to the front desk to ask them what time we would be closest to Havana. The best they could do was to tell me what time we would see the island.

As the day progressed, I kept checking and eventually, there it was, veiled behind the low clouds, Cuba. That island where in the 1950s TV’s Ricky Ricardo took Lucy and in movies, Sky Masterson took Miss Sarah Brown.

It is that island the US State Department says we Americans cannot go without special permission. It is that island of Fidel, Raul and Guantanimo Bay.

I made a special point to get The Child and explain to her the significance of this island. The stories of the Bay of Pigs and the nuclear arms crisis of John Kennedy were met with maximum “I don’t care” face that a teenager is capable.  I dismissed The Child and let her go back to having fun.

I wanted a momento, something to prove that I was in this place.  So like that geeky, techo, runner nerd that I am, I rushed down to my cabin and got my Garmin (yes, I brought my Garmin on a cruise, what of it?).   I let the satellites mark the position of The Disney Fantasy and I let that be my souvenir of my time near Cuba.

I Was There!

After I got my bearings, I pulled up a deck chair, ordered a beverage, put  my Ibrahim Ferer music on my iPod and watched the island pass by.  I saw Ibrahim and some of his Buena Vista Social club friends at UCLA a decade plus ago. It was as a fantastic night of music and merriment.

As the island drifted by, so did my mind drift to the politics of the US and Cuba. Our 50 year old-economic sanctions haven’t done the Castros in yet. Granted, Castro has done horrible things and the imposed sanctions were a reasonable response, but maybe it’s time to do some type of fence-mending, some type of normalization of relations?

But was it arrogant of us to ask Mr. Gorbachev to tear his wall down before we tore down ours with Cuba? Would any American politician risk raising the ire of the Cuban-Americans population by reaching out to Cuba?  Probably someone who doesn’t meed to carry Florida. Do we need another Richard Nixon? Will there be a person with such clout in our lifetime?

“Remember the Maine!”

I vividly remember that paper that I did for Mrs. Rizzo on the Spanish-American War back in High School.  I see the New York Times microfiche at the UNLV library where I did most of my research.  I remember taking notes and inserting dimes into the microfiche viewer to get copies of the ancient paper.I think about the 252 men killed aboard the USS Maine. That ship was the first US Warship commissioned.  It took 9 years to build, and was in service for 3 years before being struck by a mine in the harbor of Havana.  I was really proud of that paper.  I think about Teddy Roosevelt and the Rough Riders. I imagine them taking the hills I see in the distance.

Ibrahim begins to sing Silencio on my iPod and I stop thinking so hard. The song is quiet and as peaceful as I wish to be on this vacation.

Break All the Tea Cups and Coffee Mugs

I was drinking tea from my beer mug as I worked late into this evening.

It’s a mug that I purchased when I spent a January session at Gustavus Adolphus College in St. Peter Minnesota back in 1986. That was the January the Space Shuttle Challenger exploded during take off. “Life in a Northern Town” was the popular song of that time.

Over the years, that mug has been filled with Diet Coke, water, coffee, tea and even, on occasion beer. It’s an excellent device for mikifying Nilla Wafers. Lots and lots of Nilla Wafers. When I had next to nothing, I had that mug.

That mug finished college with me and moved to Boston. It came back to California and lived in apartments, condos and houses with me. It was a constant companion each night and weekend that I worked on my MBA.

Over the years, there has always been that fear that one day it would break.

My thing. My precious old thing.

As I rinsed by tea-bearing beer mug in the sink tonight I wondered what I would do if I lost it or it broke. What if they all broke. One good earthquake, it could happen.

What would I do? Answer: I would buy a replacement. Would I order a new one from Gustavus? Probably not.

But if all the coffee cups and glasses in the cupboard, there would be so much room. There would be so much room for new stuff. Or maybe there would just be a void.

The things we hold on to take up space. They diminish our capacity. People, resentments and memories diminish our capacity too. They take their place on the shelves our minds and sometimes they suck up the real estate in our hearts, limiting us.

So break all the glasses and the coffee and beer mugs. Consider retaining the ones most dear and them smash them to pieces…

And be free. Be free for anything else that comes along.

Beware of What You’re Good At. It Might Be A Trap

There are things I am really good at. I take to them like a fish to water. I enjoy doing them. I am lucky to be paid for doing those things. They are easy to me and difficult for others.

Is it possible that those things might be trap? A way of locking myself into a job, a role, a definition? You know, the guy you go to get “THAT” done.

What if the universe has other plans for me? Something else I am supposed to be doing…

Perhaps picking up that activity time and time again, excludes me from what the universe really wants me to do?

Just because it’s fun, or just because I’m good at it, doesn’t mean that it serves me. More likely that I serve it.

Time to move some stuff on to others and see if the universe does abhor a vacuum?

If you are what you do, then you don’t, then you’re not.

Your thoughts?

I Want a Beach Cruiser; Or Do I? Yes! Yes, I Do! Maybe Later?

I was scheduled for a 12 mile run on Saturday morning, but the Sturm und Drang of Friday afternoon at the office left me seething.

I can’t run when I am angry and processing.   Cycling, however is great for thinking and working through feelings.  Just pedal and think, think and pedal, converting the emotion into fuel.

So I broke out the 24-year old Schwinn 10-speed, the hydration pack, the sunscreen, riding gloves, the iPod, the GPS, the helmet and tossed everything in the car for a short drive down to the Santa Ana River trail.  It struck me that this was a lot of crap to take on a bike ride.

I hadn’t ridden about 6 months, but I kept a pretty reasonable pace.   It wasn’t the pace that I kept 20 years ago, but I was happy with it.  I was pushing.

In the two to three miles before the trail, one starts to see the small families riding their bikes towards the beach as well as people making their way on their beach cruisers.

Cruising the River Trail

On this beautiful day, I found myself passing beach cruisers in both directions.  Overtaking a beach cruiser is no big deal as they only have one gear.   I have 10 and I use them.  I use them to keep me going at best possible speed I can manage at that moment, much like I do life.

I saw cruisers in all shapes and colors, even a pink one ridden by a lady of advanced years. The words of Jenny Joseph mangled in my thought,  “When I am an old woman I shall ride a pink beach cruiser with a white basket and orange tassels  which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me“.  The lady just casually rode along the beach  on her cruiser alongside her husband, like she had nowhere to be.  I was thinking about how long I could sit before I had to head back so my family and I  could get on to the next commitment of the day.

The beach cruisers far outnumbered the road bikes on this day.  I found myself thinking about the word cruise;  such a nice word.  An easy-going word:

cruise : Verb: Sail about in an area without a precise destination

I repeated the word many times in my head listening to it.  The tune from Jimmy Buffet’s Margaritaville rolled through my head, “I hurt my heel had to cruise on back home”.  The word is used as a verb, but it’s also reflects a state of mind. A simple and peaceful state of mind.

As I sat and looked at the ocean, I wonder why I’ve never cruised to the beach.  You know, using gears that don’t max out my heart rate or require a hydration pack.  My first response is that “God didn’t make me that way”.   Those were the words of my step-father, I laughed the lack of personal responsibility the excuse exposed.    One good heart attack and I could learn to cruise.   I could learn to push a lot less harder.  I just have to want to.

I wondered if I actually could be happy cruising to the beach.  Living a slower life.  One with less drive and fewer airplanes.  Would it be boring?  There’s just always so much that I want to get done and time is moving very quickly.  The words of Ferris Bueller came into my head, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.“

I thought I would try cruising home from the beach. It looks easy enough.  I locked in behind a kid slowly riding up the trail inland.  He veered off the trail about a two miles into the ride home and I was on my own.   When I exited the river trail, I turned my GPS off with astonishment.   Even with the slow start, I made the sixteen mile ride an average of a half-mile an hour faster than I did on the downhill ride there. Clearly, I don’t do cruise, yet.

On my father’s side of the family if one were to say, “the phone is broken, when are you going to get it fixed?”, the answer would more than likely be mañana,  which does not mean tomorrow, it means, sometime in the future; maybe next week, maybe next month, but someday.  Time moves a little slower in that part of the world. Likewise, if you ask me when I am I going to learn to cruise the beach without a GPS, an iPod, a hydration pack, two cellphones, the answer for today is going to have to be mañana.

Creature of Habit

We landed in Newark Airport this morning at about 5:24am, my daughter, my wife and me. It had been 2 months since I last made this specific red-eye flight. That January trip was two months following my previous red-eye through Newark. This trip is also two months prior to my next landing in Newark on my way to Ireland.

We are on our way to Orlando Florida, for the second time in 3 years. That visit, we spent 36 hours in New York and then flew to Orlando via JFK. This time, we were going to take a direct flight from LAX to Orlando, but the red-eye route was cancelled and when given the choice between flying to from LAX to Orlando through Dulles or flying Orange County airport through Newark, I actually chose the latter route, which was longer, but more familiar and convenient.

After deplaning this morning, we proceeded to the Dunkin’ Donuts in the airport for coffee and breakfast, like I always do. As I ate my usual egg-white bagel, drank my large coffee, and I checked to see what time sunrise was.

The Child at the Dunkin’ Donuts in EWR

We headed down to gate C 97, which is where you can get the best view of Manhattan and we took pictures of The City with the sun rising behind it. I think The Child took at least 50 pictures on her phone, my phone and my camera. After that, I called my sister in London, like I usually do. It was 6am Eastern time and the 5 hour time difference makes her one of the few people I can call when I land on the East Coast first thing in the morning, After that, I popped into the newsstand and pick up a copy of the Financial Times to get me through to my next flight.

My wife commented that I am a creature of habit, especially when I travel. That fact is certainly true. I have found that if I don’t maintain a certain discipline when I travel, I am apt to create chaos for myself. It was about 8 years ago that I broke protocol when eating dinner in Connecticut. I didn’t realize that I had left my backpack in the restaurant until I arrived at my hotel in Rhode Island. Luckily my hotel room that night was pre-paid and I didn’t need my credit cards. I did have to borrow gas money from one of my colleagues so I could drive the rental car back to Connecticut to pickup my laptop, credit cards, and ID. Then I had to turn around and drive to Boston to catch my flight.

I am also consistent in what I wear when I travel. If I am getting off a red eye and into a meeting I have a set non-wrinkle wardrobe for that scenario. For flights longer than 2 hours, it’s always jeans and a long-sleeve shirt, something light that can be worn comfortably should the flight be warm or cold. For trips of two weeks or so in duration, I have an orange long sleeve shirt that will be starched and folded at the dry cleaner and sit at the bottom of my suitcase in its plastic bag, not to be removed until the day of the journey home. I’m not sure why I do this, maybe it’s just the visual clothing candy reward for the end of the trip or the associated joy that comes from pulling that particular shirt out and to know that I am heading home.

When I flew home from Newark airport in January, I was wearing my newly acquired NY Half Marathon long-sleeve shirt and the same pair of jeans I was wearing today. I would be wearing the same pair of K-Swiss tennis shoes as well, but I tossed them yesterday and pulled out a new pair of the same brand shoes last night. The fact is, I have been wearing the same brand of tennis shoe for 33 years. If I really wanted to be honest, I would disclose that I have a few boxes of new K-Swiss tennis shoes in the garage so that when one pair wears out, I don’t have to wait to order another pair. I know what I like and I stick with it.

I’ve heard it said that all travel is risk-mitigation; you don’t check a bag if you can carry on. You never trust the airline to get you to an important meeting on time. Assume your driver doesn’t know where you want him to take you. Always have a back up plan.