A Great Fall Day

There was no school last Friday in Milton. It was a gorgeous fall day with bright sunshine yet cool enough for a sweatshirt or jacket without being cold. I am guessing that most of you have the same plethora of fall / winterization chores that Sue and I do.  We have a wide variety and plenty of them. Those who know me acknowledge that I am an early riser. This habit (idiosyncrasy) is both a blessing and a curse.  It has enough meat to be fodder for a blog all on its own so I will not discuss it further on this post.  Even though I was well into the chores at an early hour I looked at my watch and invoked a saying that I heard, Mabel (my mom), utter often when she was “encouraging” me and my three siblings to complete our chores. She would say, “the day is fast going away”.  Again, this could be a separate blog topic but what she meant was, “get your act in gear”.  As I realized how much of the day had already gone by and how much time remained before dark, I grudgingly acknowledged that I would not accomplish as much this day as I had planned. About that time, maybe 11 or so, an awesome work crew arrived to “earn some money”.  This gang of four Rising Red Hawks are not only great cyclists, good students, and awesome musicians but also good yard workers.  Middle Schooler, Ivan, assumed the role of yard foreman directing the efforts of Northsiders, Gus & TJ, along with Milton Wester, Emmit. 

Ivan & TJ manned the leaf blower & rakes. They totally cleared the lawn of leaves and other detritus.  The front yard leaves were escorted to the street for city pick-up while the leaves on the much larger lawn in back were carried in old sheets to our woods behind the house.  From personal experience I can assert that this is a job that requires significant physical effort.  These two stuck at it until it was done. Check out their picture below.

One of Gus’ and Emmit’s tasks was bird feeder filling.  They accomplished this with dispatch.  It wasn’t until late in the day when I was putting tools away and closing things up for the night that I noticed there was an unusually large number of birds around as well as squirrels and chipmunks.  Opportunists that they are, they realized that there was a smorgasbord of sunflower & safflower seed on the ground that hadn’t quite made it into the feeders. Oh, well, so what if quality control was a tad off?  I wanted the creatures to have the food anyway and the boys felt very useful.

Then Gus & Emmit were assigned to helping me cut back the hostas and cart the trimmings to the compost pile.  This job is low to the ground and involves using clipping shears/pruners.  It is also a two handed project and can get old in a hurry.  These two did well with this but I could see their interest and strength waning.  So I reassigned them to man a couple of wheelbarrows and they became the truckers of the sheared stems and leaves. We completed maybe half of what seems like about a million hostas – a good start.

Earlier in the day I had tried to ignite the leaf/brush/whatever pile. I had a bit of success but was producing mostly smoke.  Of course this anemic fire required various pokes and prods from the gang of four.

As the afternoon moved along, the bikes appeared and began to whiz past heading to the trail in the woods. That seemed like it might be more fun than the hosta clipping I was doing.  Then a whiffle ball game ensued with a variety of rules that seemed to change depending on who was at bat or which team was ahead.  I was still in the hostas dodging occasional errant hits.

Of course there were many trips to the house for sustenance. I think they devoured enough food, snacks, and drinks for 10 times their number.

Near the end of the afternoon, Ivan & TJ built a small fire in the middle of their bike trail in the woods and roasted marshmallows. They were joined by Gus and Emmit.  Ah, the rewards of good labor & play - a day well spent.

It was a good day. I scratched many things from my list – windows washed, storm windows up, screens stowed, hostas trimmed, some burning accomplished, snow blower moved from the back shed to the garage (you know what’s coming), and the opportunity to shell out wages. As I reflect on last Friday I can only say, “What a gift God has given me!” Four grandsons (2 sets of cousins) who want to be at my house helping and playing with me and each other on a day off school.  The yard reverberated with their calls to each other, their laughter, their pure joy in being outside with good buddies and having fun.

Life is, indeed, good.

Here you see Ivan and TJ with their rakes and leaf blower, Gus with his wheelbarrow, and Emmit with a fist full of hosta clippings.

Oh, What Can It Mean, To A Daydream Believer & A Homecoming Grand Marshall?

Among many other responsibilities, Dan Thies is a member of our exceptional group of Milton High School Counselors.  A week or so before Homecoming he sent me an e-mail in which he asked me, along with Sue, to be Grand Marshalls for the Homecoming Parade.  My mind immediately went, “Wait!” “What?”, followed quickly by “Why?”.  I arrived at the rationale that Dan was probably looking for someone old who had graduated from Milton. Sue & I fit that bill.  I graduated in 68 and Sue in 69 so we have both been “out” for more than 50 years.

I departed that train of thought and went to tell Sue of the request.  Her reaction was similar to mine – he wants what?  Why?  I suggested we move off the why and decide whether to comply with the request or turn it down.  It was then that we both smiled and began to lean-in.  Of course we would do it.  It would be fun.  We both love Milton. We are strong supporters of our schools and we would get to ride in a convertible and wave to people.  Should we get new outfits? How should we groom ourselves? If we get into the back seat of a sporty convertible will we be able to get out without assistance?  I e-mailed Dan and told him we were in.

Dan wanted to know if we had a convertible. Answer. NO.  He said he would provide. Dan asked if we had a driver. Answer. Maybe.  I asked my good friend & spiritual coach, Nate Crandall, if he would consider serving as our chauffeur.  I really thought he would not want to give up the time but he jumped at the chance.  In fact, he ended up having way too much fun with this gig.

So Homecoming Friday arrives.  We are anticipatory and excited.  Chauffeur Nate, calls and informs us that he will pick us up in our driveway in five minutes.  We head to the driveway as Nate pulls in with a to-die-for red Mustang.  He has the music cranked and is rocking-out to Toto’s ‘Rain in Africa’.  We clamber into the back seat and head to the St. Mary parking lot. And then it begins to hit me. The assembled kids, their costumes & uniforms, their youth and infectious enthusiasm, fire trucks, police cars, proud parents, proud teachers. Dan comes over and fastens the official signs to the side of our rumbling Mustang, congratulates us, and snaps some pictures.  We are directed to our front position in the line-up right behind the ambulance (they may have to answer a call, so they lead).  My emotions are beginning to elevate and then the drums begin (nothing like drum cadences from two bands to let you know you’re alive) and we are off.

This would be a departure from our usual Homecoming parade watching which involved taking our bag chairs down the hill and watching from the shade under the maple near Arndt’s & Bank of Milton.  While this beginning-of-the-parade-route vantage point was convenient and afforded a great view we soon discovered that we had missed so much by not seeing the massed kids and community members jamming the rest of the parade route.

As we progressed, waving, cheering, calling to people, responding to greetings, I could not help but smile broadly.  This is significant as I am often taken to task for not smiling. Most spectators did not know that Sue & I were the Grand Marshalls. You could feel that brief delay as they looked at us, then at the signs on the side of the car, then back at us with big smiles and shout outs.  Students of all ages remarked about the Mustang and wanted to know if it was ours.  We saw many generations out enjoying the pageantry and excitement.  There were those older than Sue and I whom we recognized from seeing them around town for most of our lives.  We saw our contemporaries.  We saw young parents. We saw babies & toddlers. We saw our grandsons sitting with their classmates. We saw teachers whom we know and love.

This was all extraordinarily moving and even more so because I was not expecting it.  It snuck up on me.  I was elated that what I was witnessing and participating in was truly a Homecoming, a return to a sense of unity and community, a spontaneous outpouring of social capital so lacking in our country today. The feeling was pervasive and nearly palpable. It gave me hope for Milton. We have so much here to celebrate and it was clear that the parade goers were caught up in it.  I invite you to join me in working to keep this spirit alive.

Thank you, Dan, for such a phenomenal experience.

#cruzan4milton#WAM

Catching Kayla - The Rest of the Story

If you found interest & maybe inspiration in my blog, Catching Kayla, then I urge you to watch this video showing you the rest of the story.  You will hear Kayla professing her faith, and attributing her amazing story to her return to God.

Kayla Montgomery - This Is My Calling

https://www.facebook.com/lipscombbisons/videos/this-is-my-calling-kayla-montgomery/10156552280690109/


#cruzan4milton#WAM

Catching Kayla

When you consider the phrase, “I’m going to catch them at it” what comes to mind?  Think about times, if there are any, when you may have been caught.  What does it feel like to be caught?  Is it positive or negative?  How has being caught affected your behavior?

Most of my readers already know that I am wordy.  This post is no exception. It is long because, as part of my message, I am asking you to watch a 15 minute video for which I have included a link.  In my humble opinion, this investment of time will pay dividends to you as I believe it will raise valuable questions in your mind as it did in mine.  I first viewed this video a few years ago.  It continues to haunt me.  Ostensibly, Catching Kayla is about a young girl athlete and her coach.  This certainly provides the story line. But I happen to believe that it is about each and every one of us as we go through our lives with our families, with our community, with our co-workers, with the broader world.  I can nearly guarantee you will not be unaffected by watching.  I have my tissues ready.  You may want to have yours close at hand.

Please watch video here and then continue reading.

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1dvKjPzU39o&t=168s

Now, with the video fresh in your mind, where are your thoughts going in regarding to being caught?  Have you been caught from the perspective of Kayla?  How does that feel?  How has being caught in this manner affected your behavior?

This stuff just ignites my mind and my introspection.  It makes me consider – From what do I need to be caught?  Do I want to be caught or do I fight against it?  In what ways am I caught?  Has anyone ever said something like this to you, “You’re out of bounds.  Get back in line.”?

In light of Kayla, who is catching me?  Do I have six friends who will someday carry my coffin?  Do I have a friend or friends who will who will “whistle me” back to reality when my behavior, my words, my demeanor, need correction or adjustment.  I certainly hope so.  If I don’t, I’d better cultivate them.  From the video – There is one voice pushing Kayla – HER COACH, HER CATCHER.  “He pushes me and I trust him with my life.”  Kayla has someone, a coach, who cares deeply about her and who is not afraid to inject himself into her life. His voice, “GO TO THE ARMS, KAYLA.  DROP THE HAMMER- YOU’VE GOT TO GO NOW!”  Don’t we all need coaches like this in our lives?

This causes me to ponder – In what ways am I caught? What does this look like?

Can I catch myself?  Should I be caught?  Do I know when I’ve been caught?  How do I know this?

Now here’s an interesting twist – How do I let someone know I need to be caught?  How do I let the catcher know they have caught me?  How do I thank someone for catching me?

Who might our catchers be?

Spouses                    Significant others

Children                    Former spouses

Grandchildren          Teachers

Siblings                      Bosses

Friends                       Authors

Enemies                     Musicians

Pastors                       Parents

Counselors                 Co-workers

Am I am catcher?  How do I become a catcher for someone else?

Notes

Texts

Calls

E-mails

Prayers

Sharing coffee, breakfast, lunch, drinks, walks, runs, bike rides

How do we know when to catch other people?

Times of stress

High work loads

Heading toward depression

Souring relationships

Destructive behavior – over-eating, over-drinking, obsessions

Abusive/obnoxious/out-of-character behavior

Sometimes, people ask

Have you ever had a clear message to catch someone?  What are your successful catching behaviors?

Others will need our help.  To quote Kayla’s coach, “She needs help then because she’s somewhat helpless.”  We and others will be helpless at times also.

Many have posed the question, “Why does Kayla do this?”  Her reply is, “It makes me feel normal & whole. I am battling and SAFE while running.”   Her coach asserts, “She runs to beat it, to outrun it, to know you got every movement out of those legs while you still can.”  Are not all of our lives like this to some degree?  Once in the video, when Kayla was helpless at the finish of a race, in the midst of her suffering, she asked her coach, “Do you know what my time was?” We humans are something and we all need catchers to smooth us out.

Kayla wanted to run.  Her coach stated that she was an average runner at best – that maybe she would make varsity by her senior year.  She made a commitment to her coach and her coach to her.  She became extremely effective and successful but she could not do it alone.  Kayla ran into her coach’s arms and into first place!

Let’s leverage our skills, abilities, and talents by committing to being catchers and to being caught so that we can achieve great things for ourselves and our communities.

#cruzan4milton#WAM

Why I Love Milton - for - Sueli Diaz Pereira

Recently, Sue & I experienced the joy of hosting Sueli Dias Pereira as a house guest for several days. She lives in Brazil so her native language is Portuguese. Sueli was participating in an English Immersion program in her serious efforts to learn English. This “Immersion” brought about 50 Brazilians to Milton and I know that many in the community interacted and become acquainted with several of them.

God’s hand was clearly involved in this entire venture, but particularly for Sue and me. We were not enthusiastic about hosting anyone for that long and, boy, did we have a list of excuses. We were in the midst of a nearly 3 weeks of traveling by car when the hosting would need to begin. That meant we would have to write down directions regarding the house – keys, lights, AC, fridge, idiosyncrasies that all homes have, etc. I think we erected every single barrier possible and then some. Someone would have to be available to greet our, at that time, unknown guest and show them around. That would be a hassle. Because we had been gone, the house would be dirty and the yard a mess. We would be tired and out of routine from our trip. I think you get the picture.

But then, we saw the need and remembered that we were guests of a wonderful Japanese family in Nagano back in 1998 when we there for the Olympics. We were part of the AT & T Home Stay Program and had a positively life changing experience then. So, despite being way out of our comfort zone, we relented and agreed to host.

Here is the hand of God. We agreed to host, and, at the last minute, our originally scheduled guest was changed and were were blest by Sueli instead. She is bright, articulate, interested in living life to the fullest, has a profound faith in God as a cancer survivor, is seriously interested in learning English and we “clicked” immediately. Sueli had far more English than we Portuguese. We were able to communicate well. It was great to learn of each other’s lives as we became acquainted. We discovered we have many, many things in common.

Sueli’s assignments as part of the Immersion program, as well as her own interest, had her interviewing many Milton citizens, Sue & I among them, to learn of the American way of life and life in our small city. She was particularly interested in my love for and involvement in Milton. As I worked at expressing this to her I thought the comments I made at the 2018 Milton Area Chamber of Commerce’s, Night with the Stars was a good starting point. At the banquet that evening I was humbled and honored to be presented with MACC’s Lifetime Achievement Award. Sueli, and my other readers, here are some of my thoughts about Milton.

This award. This recognition is humbling and overwhelming for me. I am immensely proud of this moment but never did I imagine I might be so honored. In and of itself it is not something that I ever sought or worked toward but it is something I greatly admired. However, it would be presumptuous of me to say that I am being recognized for my efforts alone.

Please let me explain. I think you would agree that we don’t get to choose our parents. I was most fortunate as my parents, Earl & Mabel, were capable and loving, with a steadfast, unwaivering faith in God. Their high values as well as their strong work ethic were implanted in me and my three siblings. What a great start - but I had nothing to do with it. While it is true that God gave me talents and abilities that I continue to cultivate and use, his greatest gift to me were the influencers, the advocates, the encouragers, the teachers, and the significant role models he put in my path. He provided my own personal flock of eagles and always at the time I needed them. Take a moment and look around this room. Several here have served me in that very capacity. That's what community is about. All of you have brought us to this place and time. Rather than a story of personal achievement it is much more a story of God’s plan for each of us.

To continue the story, my family moved from Rhode Island to Milton when I was 16. I thought my world as I knew it was over and nothing could be worse for me than this move. Well I was partly right, my life as I knew it WAS over and praise the Lord for that. Within a couple of weeks of arriving in Milton I met Sue FitzRandolph. I had nothing to do with the move or the fact that Sue lived in Milton and attended church where my dad had just become the Pastor and where we met. We sniffed around each other for a while, both dated other people, but then began to go steady (that was the way of high school in the late 60’s). We have now been married for 49 years. Sue’s parents, Ivan & Virginia, welcomed me to their family and gave me two more phenomenal icons in my life.

As I look at life today with the perspective that age brings, I refuse to believe that this move and meeting were coincidence. The story continues and I would love to tell all of it but this is not the time nor the place. Suffice it to say that I would love to claim that I intentionally planned my life and career moves but I did not. I was placed with and was privileged to work for forward thinkers, people who worked on the cutting edge of their industries in teaching, in banking, in health care, in corporate human resources. People who were willing to invest in me, to educate me, to advocate for me, and to correct me. And again, I had very little to do with any of this except to develop the skills God provided for me.

While I am the recipient of this most meaningful award tonight others here should be included. Sitting right here I have Sue, my two daughters Amanda & Nicole, one of my sons-in-law, Leif, and half of my biker gang Ivan & Gus Sykora. TJ & Emmit Murphy and their dad, Tom, although unable to attend tonight are also a piece of this action. Most career work, rightly or wrongly, demands your time & focus. Time is finite and has to come from somewhere. It comes from family sacrificing so that you can focus. Let there be no doubt that my loved ones sitting at that table right there share so much in this honor.

But it is also bigger than immediate family. It is how you choose to define your community and the things in that community that matter.

One of my favorite American authors, Wallace Stegner, has this to say – “I believe that good depends not on things but on the use we make of things. Everything potent, from human love to atomic energy, is dangerous; it produces ill about as readily as good; it only becomes good through the control, the discipline, the wisdom with which we use it. Much of this control is social, a thing which laws and institutions and uniforms enforce, but much of it must be personal, and I do not see how we can evade the obligation to take full responsibility for what we individually do. Our reward for self-control and the acceptance of private responsibility is not necessarily money or power. Self-respect and the respect of others are quite enough. I shall certainly never do as much with my life as I want to, and I shall sometimes fail miserably to live up to my conscience whose word I do not distrust even when I can’t obey it. But I am terribly glad to be alive; and when I have wit enough to think about it, terribly proud to be an American, with all the rights and privileges that those words connote; and most of all I am humble before the responsibilities that are also mine. For no right comes without a responsibility, and being born luckier than most of the world’s millions, I am also born more obligated.”

Let me conclude with these thoughts. You can't blow an uncertain trumpet! You have to decide what your values are and how you will live them out. You are either in or you are out. You cannot whistle a symphony. It takes an orchestra to play it. If we are looking for community – for the things that unite us - then each of us has to decide what role is ours. And then we have to become intentional about implementing the behaviors that will take us there. Be a yea-sayer. Cast a shadow rather than living in one. Be a fountain not a drain. Be an advocate. Be an encourager. Celebrate Milton and do it every day.

This will be my prayer tonight. Our Father and our God, Your love and your power are awesome. We, our community, desperately need your guidance and your care. Empower & equip us to step-up and lead Milton out of this environment of negativity and dissension. Direct us and walk beside us on a path of healing and unity. Thank you for your love, guidance, and watchcare. Thank you for all of the people and businesses here tonight that make Milton a place where I want to live, raise my children & grandchildren, and participate & bask in a phenomenal quality of life.

My life was transformed in the context of advocates. I am driven to live up to that example but the journey is always challenging so I use whatever props, aides, reminders, I have at my disposal to help me along. Special ring tones fall into that category. Here is what I am currently using so that anytime someone calls me I get a positive lift: Carry On by Fun .

If you're lost & alone

Or you're sinking like a stone.

May your past be the sound

Of your feet upon the ground.

Carry On.

'Cause here we are

We are shining stars

We are invincible

We are who we are

On our darkest day

When we're miles away

Sun will come

We will find our way home.

I have found a home in Milton.

#cruzan4milton#WAM

Reflections From The Saddle of Double Shot

In case you’re a new reader of Espresso Shots, or, perchance, it slipped your mind, my bike and I have an engaging relationship.  I’m not sure what my bike calls me, perhaps lazy, neglectful, hit or miss, or other expressions of that ilk but I named him Double Shot.   Double Shot derives, not from alcohol, but from my favorite warm weather coffee drink, a double shot of espresso on ice with no classic syrup (sweetener) as, clearly, I am sweet enough without it.  The Starbucks recipe calls for the espresso shots (there may be 3 in a Grande) to be shaken with ice and then have a bit of milk (a purist would have whole milk but I usually opt for 2%) floated over the top.  Lest you think I am a caffeine addict I almost always order decaf (because I drink way too much coffee to do the caffeine route).

Now that we have that out of the way, Double Shot and I headed out for a ride today.  I had some early things to take care of at the church today but those responsibilities were completed and I was home by 9 a.m.  Compared to the past few days, the air seemed so light and unhumid, that it only seemed right to be out pedaling. Besides, it was still early in the day so, on with the biking garb, one full bottle of Gatorade plus a Camelback filled with the same nectar.  I don’t like Gatorade very much – way too sweet – but I had a dehydration issue a few weeks ago which gave me the opportunity to experience Milton’s EMS people (outstanding) and Mercy’s main campus ER (also outstanding). But that’s another story.  Suffice it to say I am now much more careful about hydrating.

I usually head north on the bike trail but I had a Bible I wanted to deliver to one of the Brazilians visiting here the past couple of weeks who was staying with that great 3^rd grade Milton West teacher, Jan Stoffel.  Jan lives in Janesville a couple of blocks away from the Creston Park / Mt. Zion intersection so I decided I would complete my delivery by bike.  Double Shot was ecstatic as we headed south rather than north – new scenery not seen for quite some time.  The route was from my driveway east on High St. to the bike trail, then south on the trail to Town Hall Road.  There I jumped on the road (just a little dicey) to Rotamer, then used Rotamer’s bike lanes to Wright Road.  I followed Wright to Mt. Zion and then back toward Creston Park until I came to Jan’s house.  I had the timer on my watch going - registered about 40 minutes.  Cleverly, I failed to have my computer seated just right so I was registering mph but not distance.  An alert biker would have noticed this right away but I didn’t until I was well into Janesville. Boy, it’s hard to get good help these days.  

Made my delivery and after a couple of texts regarding my whereabouts, physical condition, etc. – we old guys need to do this – started for home.  As Double Shot and I neared the Wright Road and HYW 14 intersection, something took over control of the handle bars.  Lo and behold we ended up hitting the bike trail at that intersection and the next thing I knew we were pulling in to Starbucks.  A bit of respite at that point in the shade of their patio was most welcome.  Double Shot was pleased that I was enthusiastically slurping his name sake.

From there we got back on the trail behind Mercy North, Home Depot, and Walmart.  I decided to stay with the trail at Rotamer Road so used the bridge over HWY 26.  For those of you unfamiliar with the trail, this way necessitates that you bike on John Paul Road for a bit as it passes BMO and a string of houses.  Again, a bit dicey but okay.  Then you pick up the bike trail again which runs right along 26.  Beautiful day, nice breeze, significantly less humidity, all creating a great ride.  I did get my computer seated properly so it was working as it should.  The round trip was about 22 miles. 

Biking is a great pastime for me in many ways. It gets me outside where I can observe and enjoy nature. I can physically do it (used to run but no longer can), it’s great exercise, I can cover a fair amount of territory, the output is readily measurable so I create a sense of accomplishment, I can enjoy a beautiful bike trail, It can easily be done with others if I desire, and it provides a great time for musing and thinking.

Most of you likely have better exercise habits than me.  I am hard-wired with a psyche that nearly demands that chores & responsibilities must be completed before exercise (or anything else for that matter). This quality is both a blessing and a curse. It often gets in the way of regular exercise, or, at least, that’s the excuse I am sticking by.  I do much better early in the morning but I need to make the decision to go out (sunup is 5:30ish) the night before.  I sleep easier and am far more likely to follow through with my exercise intention if I have made that decision – checking the weather forecast, laying out clothes, planning the route, etc.  Completing these things makes it much harder to say “no” when morning comes.

From my garage to the bike trail at Storrs Lake Road is just one mile.  There are always many birds along the large retention pond that is located right there.  Often it can be quite buggy there so you learn to keep your mouth closed.  Depending on their nesting cycles, the Red Winged Blackbirds can be quite aggressive.  I have been dive-bombed but never struck as has my friend Marissa Bartels. I am happy to let her keep that experience for herself.  Recently I have seen several baby bunnies and some cranes.  On today’s ride I even saw a wooly bear caterpillar.  Is fall that near?  Unfortunately, I have also encountered too many dog feces along this section.  My opinion only, but it seems to me that some dog owners think of few others but themselves.  I didn’t have this experience riding south today but I did encounter at least 3 chronically wet, slick, muddy spots.  This is not a new phenomenon – they have been there since the trail was opened.  I have heard of no accidents on these places yet but, if you bike out there, be careful.  You may recall that there was a chronically slick place just south of Bowers Lake Road a year or two ago where several were injured before whoever is responsible fixed the problem.  Let’s hope there are no injuries on these spots between HWY 59 and Town Hall Road.

Another observation I find interesting is the mowing along the trail.  I am very happy that there are resources to mow the edges as it can get very overgrown BUT, after the mowing, the trail is covered with matted grass.  This is also a hazard.  In the city (Milton) you cannot blow your grass clippings, etc. into the street.  Reasons for this are to keep this stuff out of the storm sewers & for bicycle and motorcycle safety.  Interesting that the safety issue hasn’t been raised on the bike trail.  As I said, I am happy that mowing is completed.  Clearly I have never mowed out there but it seems logical that after the sides are mowed that running the mower along the trail itself might blow all this heavy grass off.  Maybe it wouldn’t or maybe there aren’t resources for another pass or two.  Of course some of us could also take our blowers out there after the mowing and clear off the trail.  While I am on a rant, what about the section over in Jefferson County as you approach Fort that has been torn up and only temporarily repaired for 3 or 4 years now?  Oh well, I like to believe I am not a chronic complainer so I’ll stop now.

I love biking and I love the Glacial River Trail.  It is a treasure and one that I am happy to see being used more and more.  Biking balances me and that is good.  I just have to mention that today, I wore my new Haleakala biking jersey I bought in Maui back in January. We were fortunate to be there during the Polar Vortex.  In case you don’t know, there is a winding, switchback road that runs for 36 miles and goes from sea level to more than 10,000 feet.  This mountain is famous as a place to go to watch the sunrise.  There are biking tours that bus/van people to the top, where they then use rental bikes to fly down.  It is unfair and I mean no offense but I do not call these people “real” bikers.  There are “real” bikers who do actually bike up this mountain – all 36 miles and 10,000 feet of elevation gain.  I will have you know that I rode up this mountain – from the back seat of a car.  I had altitude issues just walking around up there at the top.  So, I admire these “real” bikers and resort to being a legend in my own mind.  In their honor, and of course in no way to have people think that I actually biked this, I purchased this great jersey.  You can see a depiction of the road, the mileage, and the elevation gain on the back of the shirt.

Hey, Milton bikers, let me know if you want to ride sometime, even spur of the moment, as that can work.  If I can’t go, I can’t go but nothing ventured, nothing gained.  

Bikers Up & be safe out there.

#cruzan4milton#WAM

Can I Get A Witness?

Those who know me well understand that I am not much of a sports fan.  I have nothing against sports but they don’t rise to the top of my to-do list.  This stems from my own lack of athletic ability and the fact that I never really participated in any organized sports as I was growing up.  I seldom watch sports on TV and generally find sports more of a current event / news type of thing than entertainment.  This may make me odd. When a young adolescent, I lived in Rhode Island and was a Red Sox fan.  Back then (early to mid 60’s) I did listen to Sox games on a very small transistor radio with an earphone.  I had to listen to the night games clandestinely as my parents were staunch believers in early bedtimes. Thus, I was supposed to be in bed and asleep by 7:30 on school nights.  The small radio fit nicely under my pillow so I did catch a lot of games. I knew the players and the usual line-ups but that didn't stick with me.  I even attended a Sox game at Fenway Park so I am not a total loser.  It seems to me that nearly everyone I know loves to watch and participate in sports.  Me, not so much.

I have grandsons who participate in organized sports and I do like watching them but this is more out of love for these boys than my love for the sport itself.  I am a believer in organized sports. They build character & work ethic. They teach dedication & conditioning.  They teach kids how to be part of something bigger than themselves.  I somehow feel that I may have missed out because that experience is lacking in my life so I am happy these grandboys are experiencing it.

It's baseball season right now. I played a little baseball in pick-up games as a kid but my knowledge of the rules is pretty limited.  I enjoyed watching grandson, TJ, in his MREC games this summer and marveled at how much these kids improve from year to year.  Grandson, Ivan, plays with the Milton Mad Dogs and his season is still in full swing.  Life should be good, right?  But, I have this dilemma. Last weekend I was watching Ivan and his fellow Mad Dogs play in a tournament in Rockford at the Mercy Sports Core Fields. As an aside, this is a beautiful facility with phenomenal turf fields.  I couldn't help but think, “Wouldn't it be great if our kids in Milton had facilities like these?”  But I digress.  One of the coaches on the opposing team said something that bothered me greatly.  Perhaps (no, quite likely) I am old and “fuddy duddy” but his comments struck me as “what not to do”.  While not a student of baseball, I am a student of human behavior and, over the years, have established pretty high expectations of adults in positions of responsibility, development, and leadership, especially when they are working with kids. I have been impressed with coaches of the Mad Dogs and how they work with and develop these young boys. The remarks of this other coach did not approach my expectations and, in fact, struck me as just plain wrong.  Remember, I am not a coach nor a sports fan so my perspective may be goofy.

As the game started, it seemed to me, in my limited ability to judge, that the teams were pretty evenly matched.  I don't know who the opposing team was - remember, I don't pay much attention to this. The game was moving along when the play and controversial comment occurred. Again, remember all my caveats – I am not a sports person.

The opposing team was at bat.  The bases were loaded.  The batter connected and smashed the hit of the game. The ball either cleared the left field fence OR it bounced and hopped over.  I couldn't tell.  The umpires couldn't tell. Very few spectators, if any, could tell. Of course where and how the ball landed was the difference between a homerun (4 runs scored) or a ground-rule double (2 runs scored).   The umpires initially indicated homerun but that was questioned.  The umps clearly didn't really know.  They appealed to the Mad Dogs left fielder (guy nearest the ball and the play) who adamantly stated the ball bounced over the fence.  It appeared they were going to change their ruling when the opposing team's coach, standing near first base,  said very loudly and with emotion – here's my dilemma – “You mean you're going to take the word  of a kid on the field?”  Now, maybe, there is a rule about this kind of thing - I wouldn't have a clue – but the umps upheld the original call.  Probably as it should be. My concern is with the coaches words – “You mean you're going to take the word of a kid on the field?”

I’d like to think that our coaches, those adults to whom we entrust our kids, are teaching not only baseball skills but also honesty & character. The right thing as it were.  Could it be that this coach is teaching his team members to lie, to misconstrue, to cast doubt, to get ahead at any cost, to win the game?  If you were teaching positive values to your own team, why not take that to a true teaching level by accepting and upholding the word of the player on the field – the one close enough to the drop of the ball to know where it landed? Coach, you seized a teaching moment but, in my mind, you took it in the wrong direction. What an opportunity turned into an Epic Fail!

It could well be that no one else on that field reacted the same way I did.  Let me remind you of my caveats – old and fuddy duddy, not much sports interest, not well acquainted with the rules, and possible ranting over nothing. But, let me also remind each of you that our kids, grandkids, and our peers are learning every day by watching our actions and listening to our words.  Let’s pledge to be positive role models in all that we do.