Not all memories are memorable, and I’m not only talking about when I’m half-drunk, like right now as I finish this blog. Still, I’m going to give it a try to come up with 50 memories that do justice to what I’ve seen and how I’ve lived my life as I celebrate my 50th birthday.

Turning the big 5-0 today seems like a good enough reason to blog for the first time in about 10 months. And if you’re keeping score, yes, it takes either a death (sorry, Buddy) or a birthday to get me to write these days. Take what you can get.

It’s a pretty eratic list you’ll find here. It has thoughts from when I was about 5 years old living in Loves Park, Ill., all the way up to earlier this year here in Virginia. And it crosses the rest of my eras: ’80s high school years, mullet-loving college, traveling in my 30s, and the “why can’t I still do that?” middle age life.

It’s not my 50 “favorite” or “best” memories, because some of them are not good memories. It’s the 50 memories that come to mind when I look back at what got me here today. It includes some really important people in my life and some fairly insignificant moments. Things I’d love to do over and stuff some days I’d rather forget. And with people I love dearly … mostly. It’s also not necessarily a top-50 list, although the last 10 below would absolutely come in as chart toppers.

So feel free to peruse my mind and see if you landed in my memories that stand out over the past half century. Fuck, that’s a long time.

Learning I was adopted – I was about 5 or 6. I was standing in the hallway and my “sister” was pissed at me and yelled, “You’re adopted anyway, so what do you care?” I had no idea what that meant but in the end, it meant that I had a fucked up yet weirdly amazing family – one that extended to multiple branches on a family tree that only includes me as the base. It was also a good precursor to understanding that family isn’t always defined by blood.
Digging for coal – Also about 5 or 6 years old. Me and Adam Lewis were at my duplex, outside in the back yard. We had a brilliant idea that we could become rich because we found coal and started digging it up to sell it. About 3 foot down into the flower bed we learned that someone had dumped out coals in the grill in said flower bed. Second lesson learned: you ain’t going to win them all.
Moving and being unemployed – It’s scary as fuck moving to another state where you know no one. Even more when you don’t have a job. But I will say that being willing to take a chance on myself at a level like that has been one of the best things I’ve ever done. Three times and I’m 3-0.
The parking lot in New Orleans at 1996 CoSIDA – Easily my greatest scam. Gene Green still thinks it’s Hall of Fame worthy. I spent the whole week in New Orleans with no money to my name but my car in the parking deck. On the last night, we’re walking back to the hotel at like 4 a.m. from Bourbon Street and I see a sign. Lost Tickets = 1 Day Rate. No Exceptions. Well, shit. That’s perfect. I roll up to leave and tell the parking attendant, “I lost my ticket but I’ve only been here since 11 a.m.” He says, “I wish I could help you but you can see the sign here. It costs a full day.” Done deal. Seven days parking for the price of one.
Plane wing through window of bus before OSU trip – Trying to leave Nebraska for a Saturday 12:17 p.m. ESPN-Plus tipoff in mid-February, the bus driver on the tarmac kinda misread the depth of the bus windshield away from the wing of the plane. Enter: wing into window. It scared the shit out of assistant coach Doug Novsek who was in the first seat behind the driver. Four hours later after they got us a new plane we were on our way to Stillwater and late-night beers and cheese fries at Eskimo Joes.
Spider on my arm at 709 Wood Avenue – I was 6. The spider was the size of a house. I was standing by a small tree in the front yard between our duplex and the neighbors. My arm was up on the tree and this Daddy Longlegs came a waltzing down my fingers, onto my knuckles, over my hand and before I could scream like a fucking little girl (and honestly I probably gave little girls a bad name for how crazy I wailed), it was down my arm to my elbow. Trauma-fucking-tizing. Still dream about it. Death would be better than reliving that hell.
Buying houses – We’ve owned three houses since Sara and I got married. The first one in Lincoln, Neb., and this one in Chesapeake, Va., sandwiched around the one we built in East Atlanta. Both the first and last Sara bought without me. Like I wasn’t even in the state when she pulled the trigger and I had not been in them. Needless to say, I trust her like no one else, and she has good taste.
42 states – I had no reason growing up to think that some day I’d have traveled to all 50 states. I haven’t yet, but I will. Earlier this year we hit Maine, Connecticut and Rhode Island to get me to 42 states visited. And by visited, I mean spent at least one night in, not just driving through.
Finals weekend in rehab – I definitely give a 0/5 on spending your first quarter finals weekend of your freshman year of college in the hospital in rehab after getting so drunk that you get hauled out of the dorm tied to a stretcher so you don’t hurt yourself. Make it worse that it was over a girl. Even worse because the bottle of Smirnoff and half bottle of Hot Damn you drank in your room by yourself. On a Thursday. I told you this wasn’t all glitter and rainbows.
Living in 7 states – This trip I’m currently living on started in Madison, Wis., and has wound its way through Illinois, Iowa, North Carolina, Nebraska, Georgia, and now Virginia. It likely stops here, but then again …
Vegas trips – There will not be a better trip to Las Vegas than my first time there. I went single and left the luckiest man in the world. Highly recommend getting married there, even if she doesn’t let you wear a blue ruffled tux.
First game in Wrigley in 1982 – There is something glorious about Wrigley Field and my first memories there are when my stepdad and uncle took me and my brother, David, when I was 11. We sat lower level third base side toward home plate. It was sunny, beautiful weather. I don’t know if we won or not, and can’t remember who we played. Seems that started a long streak of games there like that as an adult, although Old Style was responsible in the future visits.
Working at 13 – My first job was working at an auction house when I was 13. I spent two summers working there, helping on auction Sundays and spending the week going on rides to pick up stuff for the weekend. It gave me a good work ethic and money in my pocket. And I picked up a lot of ’80s Playboy magazines from houses we cleaned out. That was a golden era.
Playing pool – I remember the first time I played poker (Mark’s garage with his dad, Bill, teaching us real five-card poker games) but I don’t remember when I first picked up a pool cue. It was definitely in high school though and carried through to college where I spent a vast majority of my day-time hours at the College Center my sophomore year. I wasn’t the best in there but even at $5 a rack (or an occasional $20 game), I still made enough between that and working the front desk at my dorm to pay for the whole year’s tuition. Well, minus what grant money they gave us few poor kids at the rich-kid school.
July 4th fireworks – I’ve been pretty lucky to travel and some of the best trips have been around the 4th of July. Watching fireworks over Boston Harbor and in Philedelphia (following a free Bon Jovi concert) is pretty special. But, watching them in Washington, D.C.? Well, there’s no beating that.
Christmas trip home 2015 – In a move that surprised almost my whole family, I went home for Christmas and brought Sara with me. It was the first time I had been home for the holiday in probably 20 years since I moved to North Carolina. Despite the inevitable drama, it was a worthwhile trip as I know Violet and Frosty loved having a photo of all the kids for the first time since I was in college.
Driving to Boston and Atlanta – The summer of 1996 was amazing. It truly was life changing. I decided to quit my janitor-turned-security guard job in the middle of nowhere Iowa and drove to Boston for a conference where I got a sports information internship for the 1996-97 school year at Southern Illinois. Two weeks after getting back from Boston, I drove to Atlanta to spend almost a month with a college buddy who lived there while I volunteered at the Summer Olympics. So many memories from these trips. The long drives by myself across the country using an atlas and paying tolls I didn’t know were there from the change on my backseat floorboards. The chance to see world-class teams (Dream Team 2) and athletes (The Pocket Hercules, look him up) from feet away. Drinking downtown Atlanta until 12:30 a.m. and barely getting off the train and back to the apartment when we heard the news about the bombing 2 blocks from where we were just partying. And so much more. It was the summer of a lifetime and took me down a path in life I’m so thankful to have had the opportunity to soak up.
Great places I’ve eaten – I can’t even begin to recall all the amazing places in different cities I’ve been lucky enough to eat at. Gino’s East in Chicago, amazing pizza. McKendrick’s Steak House in Atlanta; Peter Luger’s in New York City; Old Homestead in Las Vegas, all with out-of-this-world steaks. Gates, Arthur Bryant’s, and Jack Stack’s in Kansas City, for ribs and anything barbecued. Fox Brother’s Bar-B-Q in Atlanta, the shit … all the good shit. The Irish Shanty in Gunder, Iowa, home of the Gunderburger. Dreamland in Birmingham, barbecue that is dreamy. Hickory Park in Ames, Iowa, the best shakes west of the Mississippi. Highway Diner in Lincoln, Neb., 2 a.m. food to die for. Top Cone in Machesney Park, Ill., the best burgers ever made in the 1980s. The list really goes on and on.
First international trip with Sara – Going to London in 2006 got us out of our comfort zone. Luckily, we loved it and it stuck. Since that first whirlwind trip, we’ve been to Belize, Aruba, The Netherlands, Czech Republic, Germany, back to England, and France. Can’t wait to see what new place we end up in next. Costa Rica anyone?
Fenway and Yankee Stadium – First of all, again, I’m sorry Sara. I got tickets to Yankee Stadium in the final season of the Old Yankee Stadium … and I took my best friend instead of my wife. I don’t regret anything in my life but I will say this one I should think I would change if I could re-do it. Still, it was an a-fucking-mazing trip. Early August at Old Yankee Stadium in the final season, and we had tickets that were literally front row. Like, bend over the rail and pick up dirt from foul territory. A-Rod and Jeter were talking distance away. And it was the Old Timer’s Game before the Yankees played the A’s, which went to extras because of a ninth-inning A-Rod homer and the Yanks won in 10. Oh, and the night before we flew into Boston to go to Fenway Park before taking the train to NYC in the morning. Epic.
Crazy mud runs – I did my first Tough Mudder in 2012 by myself on a freezing cold day in February. The windchill was in the lower 30s, which without the water obstacles would have been managable. The first water pit was at obstacle No. 2. There were still 11 miles to go and nine more water obstacles. I said I’d never do another by myself, so luckily for me my friends were stupid enough to want to do it and now I’ve done seven, along with three of the Warrior Dash variety. Doing it with friends though is worth it.
Tattoos – Got my first one when I was a senior in college and still remember my girlfriend gasping out loud when she saw it 2 hours after I got done. It took about 15 years before I got another and now I have 14 and went in earlier today to schedule my next one for Oct. 8. Luckily, I have plenty of my body remaining. And now that you’ve read this, you won’t be able to stop thinking about me saying “my body.”
Shower beer – Who doesn’t love a good shower beer every now and then? I know I sure do, and it always reminds me of the spring of 1993. I vividly remember taking a beer into the shower with me on a Monday morning. We lived off 30th Street at the top of the hill in Rock Island, just past campus. I shared the first floor with two guys who I have not talked to since, and that’s probably for the best considering I probably wasn’t the greatest roommate. Anyway, I had drank the weekend away and was getting ready for class and for some reason, the weather was just turning — it was that first warm Spring day in the 40s when you could wear shorts again — and Boston’s “More than a feeling” was playing on the radio. Strange memory, I know, but it was a good one, even with Beast Light.
Party time – The ’80s were a different decade. And I’m thankful for it. Today’s parental climate likely would not have allowed for the massive amount of alcohol consumed at the teen parties at my house. Everyone knew the rules: you come in the back door (never once locked) and before you head downstairs, you put your car keys in the basket. You don’t get to leave if you’ve been drinking, and definitely did not drive. Our road was lined with cars for blocks the next morning as, most of the time, people just stayed. Like 40 people in my basement at high school graduation, and 30 for New Year’s Eve later that year. And the others were similar. So many good times.
Stories my guys tell – Late night at our CCMP poker weekend turns into some crazy funny times. You never can expect what’s going to happen next, but you can almost always expect certain stories to pop back up for several of the guys. My stories that typically get to make fun about me include when I was hit in the nuts with the football as I blocked a kick in 8th grade football; the “stinky shirt incident” in wrestling in 7th grade that Dwin never let me forget; the time on my 21st birthday when we were at the strip club and they got me on stage only to have the girls find out that I was not wearing underwear; and the cannon story that will never cease because I simply fell asleep on a cannon that one time, aided by a lot of alcohol.
Getting the cats – Strange thing here. Until we had them for 6 months, I had no idea they could live to be 20 years old. Like, no clue. Sara wanted to get one so there was some noise in the house while I was gone on the road with my teams and I said sure. I decided at the last minute to get one too so that if I hated a cat, it would be mine and not hers. I’m not a fan of cats, which is why mine is named F’ing, because she’s my fucking cat. But in the end, they’ve both grown on me. F’ing is a diva and Glenda is a monster but I can’t imagine us not having them now that they’ve been here 13 years and counting.
Getting the dogs – Build a house and what do you automatically get to buy? Yup, a dog. We decided we wanted one as our house was being built in Atlanta in 2012 and Sara picked a boxer. It was a wonderful choice. Saydee was nuts and the love of our life. Felix came along a year later and bowled his way into our hearts. I could go on and on about them, but I’ll just leave it at: they were worth every minute and we miss them dearly.
Omaha Beach – One of my biggest bucket list travel destinations has always been Paris. I took 4 years of French in high school and just fell in love with the idea of visiting the City of Light. I finally made it in 2019 when Sara and I took a trip to London and Paris. It lived up to the expectations, but the sidetrip we made to Normandy raised the bar. Walking the beach to see where so many gave their life was beyond sobering. Indescribable. It’s a must-see if you get to that side of the big pond.
Three Dollar Cafe – I already mentioned my trip to Altanta for the ’96 Olympics but this place needs a spot of its own on the list. My best friend, Aaron, came down for a week or two – it really was a blur – and we spent nearly every night there. Back then, finding a bar with more than 100 beers on site was pretty unheard of. The staff was amazing – and easy on the eyes for my 25-year-old self – and we got to know them well, closing down the place a number of nights. It was a helluva good time.
The Tabernacle – Formerly a church, the Tabernacle was turned into a night club for the 1996 Olympics, and then became a music venue after that. When we moved to Atlanta in 2010, we quickly learned it was a great place to see a band. One of the most epic shows I’ve ever attended was there in 2012 when O.A.R, with Stephen Kellogg and the Sixers opening, played here. It was beyond anything you could expect or imagine. I’m so thankful for the chance to have been there in that specific moment.
European Christmas Vacation – Without having kids, we have the freedom to travel any time we want, including at the holidays. Christmas 2018 was amazing as we hit Amsterdam, Prague, and Berlin over the holidays. Seeing the Christmas markets in Prague and Berlin, walking the Berlin Wall and Checkpoint Charlie, and taking the train through three countries will remain with me forever.
The Toast – I don’t have much to add about this memory of me giving the toast as the best man at Aaron and Heidi’s wedding. I remember nothing but I was told I had a good time that night.
Losing the boys – Death sucks. It doesn’t matter who it is but it’s even worse when it’s one of your crew. We’ve lost three in my inner circle with Tony, Dwin and Mutherfuckin’ Chuck. It blows. I miss them dearly. These are the memories I don’t want but can’t shake.
Caye Caulker – When Sara finished her MBA, I wanted to spoil her so I bought us tickets to Belize. We stayed on a small island of 2,000 people where there were about seven hotels and about as many restaurants. It was 40 minutes off the coast of Belize and our cabana was about 30 feet from the ocean. Getting to snorkel a mile off island on Belize Barrier Reef, the second-largest barrier reef in the world, was a memory etched into my soul.
My Woodstock – It was a lineup for the ages. Lollapolooza 1992 had a killer lineup with the main stage consisting of Red Hot Chili Peppers, Ministry, Ice Cube, Soundgarden, The Jesus and Mary Chain, Pearl Jam, and Lush. The side stage had Rage Against the Machine, Tool, Porno for Pyros, Cypress Hill, House of Pain, Stone Temple Pilots, Lucious Jackson, and one I cannot believe I got to see in person, Temple of the Dog. It was Aug. 29, 1992, on my 21st birthday in Alpine Valley, Wis. From the night before at the strip club and bars, to the 12 hours of concerts we saw with 40,000 friends, no one has ever had a birthday like that.
Nature’s gift – We didn’t mean to start a new hobby but we did when we headed to Las Vegas in October 2017. We rented a SUV and over the next 7 days, we went 1,900 miles hitting five national parks – Zion, Bryce, Canyonland, Arches, and Grand Canyon – along with two national monuments – Four Corners and Monument Valley. It was a blissful hiking trip we never planned but were always meant to take.
My first marathon – At no point in my first first 46 years did I ever have an inkling that I would be interested in running a marathon. Once we joined a running team in 2018, whether I was fully aware or not, that theory went to hell. After doing eight half marathons in 2018, I got the bug and started training for a full marathon in 2019. Marine Corps Marathon was one that many of my running friends said was their first, and it became a great starting point for my interest in killing myself more with running. The fact my stepdad was a Marine who served in Korea added to my interest. And then I found out my mom had never been to Washington, D.C., to see the amazing monuments and tributes to wars of all ages. I finished, that’s all I’m going to say about that because I did for shit in terms of my finish. But, it was incredible and I wouldn’t trade it for the world to see Violet’s reaction to all the different moments we had together.
Topping the podium – In high school, I lived for wrestling. I played football because I loved it and enjoyed being with my guys, but in the end, the only thing I wanted to do those years was wrestle. I wasn’t very good when I started, but I was a fucking grinder. I wore people out and worked my ass off. No one could look at my lumpy body and think I’d be hard to beat, but by my senior year, I definitely was a tough out. After losing big to my main rival in the regular season, I came back and beat his ass in the conference final to win the league 152-pound championship. It was my one shing athletic moment and I’m so glad to have had the chance.
Land Down Under – I’ve said it for years that working at Nebraska in athletics was dream job, one I’ll never beat. The pay, compared to the real world, was for shit but the perks were amazing. Our basketball summer trip to Australia in 2004 was just one such perk. We spent a week in Sydney and a week in Cairns. On our last day there, we went skydiving – jumping out the plane and seeing the rainforest to the right and the Great Barrier Reef to the left is etched into my brain – at 6 a.m. and then bungee jumping at 9 a.m. Plus we snorkeled and scuba dived on the reef. Truly once-in-a-lifetime memories.
Bay day – I was lucky enough to take multiple trips to Hawaii with the Nebraska basketball team. The first was in the third round of the NIT, and then again four years later in a non-conference tournament. During the later, I brought Sara with and my friends, Aaron and Heidi, came out too. We had a free day and the four of us went to Hanauma Bay for the world-class snorkeling. Sitting on the beach, watching the waves, and feeling the sun with my best friend, half way around the world from where we grew up and figured we would be like most everyone else who never leaves Illinois other than to go to Wisconsin, well, it was one of the those instances you never forget.
Letting him say his goodbye – I wrote about it when it happened and you should read it here if you have never read it before. If you do know, then you understand why I was in awe. And I still am. Short story: one of my childhood best friends murdered someone and went to prison. He spent 18 years behind bars and served his time. Then, he got out. We met him as he was released, and I wrote about the whole process of him being incarcerated. There were so many things that we kept to ourselves as we got him out, but the one thing we couldn’t hold back was his need to end things on his own terms. It was really fucking amazing to see someone who had been in prison for 18 years not just run away once they opened the doors. No, he said, “I did what you asked me, and now I will leave on my own terms, on my own time.” I’ve never seen anyone with a purpose in life and bigger balls than what I witnessed in that few hours after he was let out the gate to join us.
The Elevator Game – There’s nothing like going to a Cubs game, and it’s even better when your boys are with you. We had an epic outing in 2008 when about 12 of us went to see the Cubs the Thursday that poker weekend started. It was a day game and we got there a little before first pitch and drank our asses off. We made friends with a group of teachers sitting next to us in the bleachers and had a good ole time. And did I mention we had a lot of beer. Sun was out, fun was in the air, and the Wrigley bleachers lived up to their billing. I got sunburnt (read: drank all the beer) and the ushers said I should get out of the sun in the 7th inning so we left, which was when we found out for the first time after more than 25 years going to the famed ballpark that there is an elevator in the outfield. Who knew?
Volunteer time – If you’ve read this far, it’s pretty obvious to you that I spent time volunteering at the 1996 Olympics, right? Haha. It meant that much to me because, even though I was a really tiny, super small part of the Games, the affect it left on me changed my life. I thought I knew what I wanted to do before that trip and the time in Atlanta really solidified it. Going on from that wonderful month to work in college athletics was a dream come true. I could not have had a better career or life during that time. It ran its course and I’m glad to be where I am now, but I will never forget the times and especially the people I worked with back then. I’m forever grateful to those who hired me, those who worked with me, and those who I’m lucky enough to still call friends.
Work in athletics – There were so many fun memories from my 17 years in athletics media relations, it’s hard to narrow it down to the highlights. The NIT game at Hawaii; the Creighton NIT game; playing in all the amazing venues like Allen Fieldhouse, Gallagher-Iba Arena, and Hilton Coliseum; working two Heisman Trophy campaigns, including one winner; the 2009 Big 12 football championship game in JerryWorld; Ndamukong Suh’s incredible senior season; Alex Henery’s 57-yard field goal against Colorado; and a career-ending ride along with the Georgia State basketball team that made a Cinderella-like comeback in the final 3:11 to beat 4-seed Baylor int he NCAA Tournament. And so many more behind-the-scenes memories I’ll keep to myself and cherish forever.
“A” race – It’s been a long minute since I started runing and I know a lot of my friends at home and around the country who knew me before 2018 are a bit suprised – or weirded out – by the fact that I’m now a “runner”. But, it is what it is. I do stupid shit. I’ve jumped out of planes. Bungee jumped off towers. Scuba dived and snorkeled in open water that I’m scared shitless of. And now, I run a long ways. It happens. And I love it. I wish I had lost a bit more weight and was slimmer, but even without that, running has changed my life. I feel healthier. I feel better. I feel good. I’m glad I run and cant wait to run more. That mindset has led me to run half marathons, marathons, and an ultra marathon (with one more ultra to come in December). This past spring, it also led me to setting an audacious goal that I honestly did not think I could meet. I wanted to do a sub-1:50 half marathon before I turned 50. It would have to be in the colder months before the bullshit humidity and dew point jumped up in coastal Virginia. So I aimed for the spring and, after flaming out in amazing fashion at Shamrock, I crushed it with a 1:49.22 at the Striders Half Marathon in April. I cried. I still cry when I think of it. This was maybe the most amazing accomplishment I’ve ever reached in my life. I can’t thank everyone who supported me on this unreal journey. Fuck. So damn good.
Death happens – I moved out of my dad’s house at the start of the summer of 1987 when I was 16. I was thinking of moving back in before school started, but – shocker – he died in early August. That changed shit. Bigly, as a certain asshole-like population would say. I remember the night as if it happened yesterday. I got a call at Violet’s. I was in my room in the basement. I picked up the phone and Mary, my stepmom’s mother, said my dad, Duane, had just been taken to the hospital. He had a heart attack. I raced to the hospital and almost beat them. It didn’t matter. He died on the table before I had time to say I was sorry for leaving. And that I loved you. I punched a wall. Like 14 times. I was 16 years old and learned what it’s like to know that you’re really on your own. Life moves on, but you better decide to move along with it. Sure, I had family still, but there was no replacing the man who I had lost without saying I was sorry. A lot of the memories have faded today. Life moves on. But this one thing I think about almost more than anything in my life: if he had lived, would I have still stayed in that town? My life may never have been the same without this happening. And while I still wish he was with me, I wonder if it wasn’t destined that I’d leave and never look back because, while there are so many people there I love, I wasn’t meant to be there. We’ll never know, but if he had to leave me, I can honestly say I’ve made the most of my life by moving on. I hope he’s happy that I did.
“Hello again, everybody” – Harry Caray was not with us, but he was there in spirit when we hatched the plan. Back in 1990s, when Harry was still alive but the Cubs were terrible, we were just out of college and indoctrinated enough to think the Cubs had a chance. So, my best friend Aaron and I made a pact. Some day, we’d watch the Chicago Cubs in the World Series. And we were smart enough to know that if the Cubs, who hadn’t won a pennant since 1908, did actually win, we couldn’t afford tickets to attend that shit in person. So we decided at some point that we’d do the next best thing: watch from a bar across from Wrigley Field. No one saw 2015 coming, but once we felt it happening, we knew we may be close. In 2016, there was little chance we weren’t on the precipice. Fastforward to mid-October and the fucking Cubs were actually in the fucking playoffs. Fuck me. And really might make the World Series. We were beside ourselfs. It wasn’t until we got into the World Series that we had to sack up and make a decision. Chicago had just beat Cleveland, 5-1, on Oct. 26 to even the series at 1-1 and we pulled the trigger. I bought a ticket to fly home for game 5 on Oct. 30. Little did we know, we’d lose the next two games and be trailing 3-1 when we got to Chicago. Fuck it. We showed up, saddled on to the bar at Casey Moran’s across from the third base entrance, and the Cubs, with us in attendance, surged to a 3-2 win, starting a comeback for the ages that ended with a 4-3 series win to end a 106-year World Series drought. Mother.Fucker. I can’t express my feelings for sharing this with my best dude and also because it was my fucking Cubs. Unreal. Like, beyond words.
Poker weekend – If you know me well, there’s probably one thing you know about me: Symposium. This is my big poker weekend every summer. People from Iowa to Nebraksa to North Carolina to Georgia to Viginia know about it. It’s my big guy’s weekend. It’s been going on since 1995 when it started in my apartment in Fayette, Iowa. There were nine of us playing cards and getting drunk back then. Now, we’re more like 23 people each year and it’s a four-day weekend that has a schedule cruise ships wished they’d adhere to. Me and Aaron started this whole thing because we were tired of driving back to Illinois every other weekend to play poker, so we said that everyone else should join us for one weekend each summer. It turned out alright. I considered these fucks my brothers as most of us have been through so much together, and the ones who haven’t been with us for the hard times, well, they’ve earned their stripes over time. I can’t imagine my life without those boys who show up at the Legion Post 1197 in Alpha, Ill., every year. What you give me lasts more than a year, and I hope we continue this sojourn (I know 86% of you CCMPers will have to look up that word) for decades to come.
New Year’s 1992 – It was my senior year of college. It was New Year’s. There was little chance there was not going to be a party. Many of my boys from home came down to Rock Island, Ill., for this party, expecting much of the same that they had while home in the Park at Violet’s house. They weren’t disapointed. Enter beer-stained pictures, Pearl Jam in early Grunge form, an ice storm, lots of mashing, and one epic picture to remember. It was an epic weekend. That is all.
The interview – I can’t remember shit from 2 weeks ago, but I have so many vivid images in my head from the past that are detailed, impactful memories that it’s a crazy juxtaposition. It scares me sometimes the little shit that I remember but the big things I have no idea about. I guess I’ll deal with that down the road when I have to. For now, what I remember as the absolute No. 1 memory from the past 50 years is a beautiful young woman sitting in my office in the fall of 1997. I had no desire to interview students. I was 26 years old. I was a full-time assistant in sports information at East Carolina University and coudn’t give a shit less about the students we had helping us. Like less than a shit. My boss, Stormin’ Norman, said that it would be worthwhile for me to interview the students since we’d have to oversee them in the office and be around them all the time. Plus, someday I’d be a head SID and would have to care about students. So, I said, “Whatever.” She came in with Norm and he asked her to sit down. She was in the chair at the end of my desk and she wrecked my fucking world. She was wearing a three-quarters length white-sleeve shirt, sleeves rolled up. Khacki pants. Tennis shoes. She had red lipstick and what looked like extra blush on her cheeks, giving her a very defined look. She was beautiful. And while I knew basing my decision on that was not only not allowed, but illegal in the athletics world, I immediately told Norm, “Fuck yeah, hire her.” It wasn’t based on her qualifications, which were great, but because I wanted to see her in the office every day. In the end, it didn’t hurt that she knew more about sports than 90% of everyone I knew. She got the job. Fast forward 6 months and we were officially/”unofficially to the office” dating, and 5 years later we were married. We’re still married and I can’t go more than a week right now as you’re reading this without picturing her in that chair by my desk and wondering how stupidly lucky I am that she chose to wander into my life. Thank you, thank you, thank you.