They Paved Paradise and Put Up a Parking Lot

They paved paradise and put up a parking lot.

    - Counting Crows

I've put off writing about this because it hurts.

Portland Brew, the one true neighborhood coffee shop in my life, closed in early August after an all day party with music, art, laughter, tears, hugs, former baristas, and regular customers all together one last time on a late summer Saturday.  

It was beautiful to see such community among so many varied and distinct people, all of whom shared a love for Portland Brew.  In the end, that's what Portland Brew was about.  Community.  This was evident in the messages on the many yellow post-it notes stuck on the wall, left there by customers who stopped by to say goodbye to a place they loved.  A place of refuge in a busy, stressful world, where you could could count on a smile and a greeting from a familiar face, and a good cup of coffee.  

To me, what Bongo Java was, once upon a time, Portland Brew became.  A fixture in my life.  A place I could stop in on the way to work or on the way home after work and almost always see someone I knew.  For the longest time, the baristas were old heads, just like in the Bongo Java days.  Even thought that changes a bit the last couple of years, the newer, younger baristas were kind, friendly, upbeat, and interesting.  

When I walked into Portland Brew, I felt like I was home.  That's probably the absolute best thing I can say about a coffee shop or a bar.  And, I think, that's why it's so hard to say goodbye.  It's like losing an old friend, especially for someone who is as nostalgic as I am.  Bongo Java marked a time in my life, a simple time when the boys were young and I walked them through the neighborhood every weekend.  Portland Brew marked a different, more complicated time in my life, when the boys were older and in school, the stresses of work increased, and I lost my mom after a long fight with Alzheimer's disease.  

Portland Brew was a safe harbor for me, a place where I could stop in on the way to work and collect myself.  Plan my day.  Read the New York Times or the New Yorker online, write in this blog, answer e-mails, or get ahead of the day's work.  All with a good cup of coffee and scrambled eggs w/avocado, my go to breakfast there.

What was really cool, though, is the Portland Brew had the most loyal crew of regulars of any coffee shop I have ever frequented.  More, even, then Bongo Java in the old days.  Stuart, Michael, Rob, and so many other others, many of whom I did not know by name.  And, of course, Dennis, the mayor of Portland Brew.  

Originally, I met Dennis at Honest Coffee Roasters in the Factory in Franklin, where we often chatted about sports, kids, and life.  I was delighted, of course, when I walked into Portland Brew one morning a couple of years ago and saw Dennis, decked out as always in Detroit sports gear (Tigers, Lions, Michigan, Pistons, etc.).  He had moved to the neighborhood and, soon enough, he was holding court at Portland Brew every single morning.  It was a sight to see, as person after person sat down for a minute or two every morning to say hello to Dennis.  He radiates goodness and optimism.  His presence at Portland Brew the last couple of years and the light he shined on so many regulars is something I will always remember.

Portland Brew stayed open during the pandemic, unlike most other local coffee shops and restaurants.  In the spring and summer of 2020 when we were all so scared, anxious, and confused, I was able to stop by Portland Brew and get a to go cup of coffee.  That shred of normalcy kept me going and gave me hope that somehow, someday, the pandemic would end and I could gather again in a group with friends and strangers and have a cup of coffee.  

I vividly remember a morning when our office was closed - hell, everything was closed - and I drove to Portland Brew, got coffee, then drove down 12th Avenue and sat in the chairs outside Burger Up with Hal.  We socially distanced as we shared a cup of coffee and conversation, uncertain of what the future held for any of us.  It was powerful, intimate, and memorable.  Portland Brew made moments like that possible during the pandemic and for that reason and others, I remained a loyal customer after the pandemic finally ended.  

I ended a thousand afternoon weekend runs at Portland Brew, or so it seems, got a coffee, and walked home.  Every runs end with coffee, I used to joke.  

On almost every snow day, Portland Brew was open.  Neighborhood folks stopped in on the way to and from a day of sledding in Sevier Park to grab a coffee or hot chocolate for the kids.  That's what Portland Brew was about, really.  Neighborhood.  Community.  The tourists the bachelorettes went to Frothy Monkey.  The neighborhood people went to Portland Brew.  

Ironically enough, one Saturday or Sunday afternoon last spring, I walked into Portland Brew slightly past 4 p.m., less than an hour before closing.  I sat by myself, looked around, listened to the baristas talking about their plans for the night, and took a few minutes to appreciate how Portland Brew was one of the only places in the neighborhood that was still "old 12South."  So much else had changed and was changing in 12South but not Portland Brew.  I even wrote a post about it as I sat there.

Well, a few months later, Charles Treadway sold all of us out and agreed to lease the property to, of course, another women's clothing boutique.  Greed kills, forever and always.  

Now, the Portland Brew sign on the outside of the building is gone.  The tables on the front porch are gone, too.  What is there, though, is a sign that informs people how to pay to park in the Portland Brew parking lot, while they go shopping or eat at a 12South restaurant.  

Quite literally, they paved paradise and put up a parking lot.

Traveling Man

Saturday morning, JP and the MBA cross country team raced in at the Daviess County Classic in Owensboro, KY.  Because I missed the last race in Louisville, KY, I decided to make the two hour drive that morning, then hustle back to town to coach Joe's baseball games at Warner Park.  The bus left MBA at 6:15 a.m., which is about the same time I pulled away from the house.

The drive was nice, particularly since I had gotten a good night's sleep on Friday night.  Podcasts and music all the way to Bowling Green, KY, then across I-165 over the Owensboro, KY.  I even arrived in time to get a cup of coffee downtown, such as it was, before driving over to Yellow Creek Park. 

Apparently, MBA has run in the Daviess County Classic a few times in the past but not since the pandemic.  It's a race where the junior varsity can compete, too, which is part of the attraction, I think.  Also, it's an easy drive and one that can be made the morning of the race, so it's not necessary for the school to spring for hotels the night before the race.

Going in, we knew the field wasn't too competitive.  Jack Wallace and JP were predicted to finish 1 - 2, based on previous times, and that's exactly what happened.  In fact, Jack, JP, and Gabe finished 1 - 2 - 3 and MBA's varsity, as a team won easily.  Later, the junior varsity made it a clean sweep for the morning by winning their race, as well.

To me, the course was more hilly than the course at the Trinity-Valkyrie Invitational in Louisville, KY, and the times reflected as much.   Jack won the race in 15:23:80 and JP ran second in 14:34:70.  Gabe was just under 16:00:00 again at 15:59:90.  Also, by the time the boys ran at 9:30 a.m., the sun was out and it was surprisingly hot for early October.  Not idea conditions for PR's.

Coach Russ and I stayed together and watched the boys at the 1, 2, and 3 mile marks, cheering for all of the Big Red varsity runners as they passed us.  JP was running with Jack at the 1-mile mark but by the 2-mile mark, Jack had opened up a bit of a lead, which he maintained through the end of the race.

Jack and JP push each other, as I've written in this space before.  JP wants to run with Jack, I know, which motivates him and keeps him going in races.  Jack knows, I think, that if he has a bad race or lets up, JP will be there.  The competitiveness of their relationship is good for both of them.  

Although it wasn't a competitive race, it's nice to see the boys bring home more hardware for the school trophy case.  

 

Two Sides of the Same Coin

I've been thinking a lot about parenting lately, particularly as it relates to my relationships with JP and Joe.  A little self-scouting, if you will.  

My use of the plural form of the word - relationships - is deliberate.  Why?  Because while my boys are similar in many fundamental ways, they also are very different.  It's those differences, I think, that makes my relationship with each one of them unique.    

For the longest time, I think I fell into a trap.  On a certain level, it seemed to me that since JP has enjoyed so much success in junior school and high school, thus far, at MBA, that I somehow had cracked the code when it came to raising boys.  In other words, raising Joe through his pre-teens and early teens would be relatively easy because I'd already done it to great success with JP.  

I think there is an inherent laziness in that line of thinking, though.  Because, again, JP and Joe are different people.  I can't go on autopilot with Joe and use the same approach with him as I have with JP and expect the same results.  Different people.  I forgot that for a while.

The problem in my approach recently hit me after a baseball practice with Joe's Dodgers.  I've always prided myself on approaching each boy I coach differently.  Why?  Because they're all different.  Some boys respond better to me getting on their ass in practice or games (in a positive way, of course).  Other boys need a gentler approach.  They need me to build their confidence.  

I've always felt that each boy I coach is a puzzle.  The beauty in coaching - for me, anyway - is in solving the puzzle over the course of a season or, more often, several seasons.  Over time, I build trust with each player, and he recognizes that I have his best interest at heart, always.  But I get there in different ways with different boys.  That's the point.

Why, then, would I think that parenting my sons would be any different?  I don't know.  Since my boys are different from each other, it makes sense that I need to find a different approach JP and Joe that allows each to reach his full potential in, well, life.  That's what we all want for our children, right?

JP is very, very disciplined and methodical in his approach to work and getting things done.  He takes after his mother in that regard, I think.  Jude and I have been spoiled in that we have never - not one time - had too remind JP about homework, a project, or studying for a test since he's been at MBA.  He's self-motivated and goal-oriented.  My approach with him is more laissez faire.  Support him.  Check in with him, but hands off for the most part.

On the other hand, Joe is not as inclined to get his work done without a reminder from Jude or me.  School work.  Chores.  Athletics.  Joe needs a gentle reminder, at the very least.  He's not as organized as JP (or Jude).  Joe is probably more like me in that regard.  I don't think a hands off approach works with Joe, not if I want to help him reach his full potential.  

The trick, of course, is finding the right balance.  Encourage Joe.  Remind Joe but do so in a way that I'm giving him enough space to learn and grow, so he gets to the point that he budgets his time and gets things done on his own, without nudging or prodding.  I don't want to nag him and I can't get frustrated with him because he's not his brother.  He's uniquely Joe, different from JP in many ways.  

As I told Jude after out parent-teacher conference with Ms. Dortsch at USN yesterday afternoon, we're so lucky to have the boys we have.  Ms. Dortsch raved about Joe.  Well behaved, courteous, respectful, friendly, easy going.  He was the boy all of the other boys wanted in their cabin on the recent school trip to Mt. Pisgah National Forest.  That's Joe.  

We're blessed beyond measure, to be sure.

A Weekend on the Run

Friday evening, Jude left for Louisville, KY, to watch JP and his MBA cross country team race on Saturday morning in the Trinity/Valkyrie Invitational.  I stayed behind with Joe because he had baseball.  It's important, I think, to divide my time between the boys when it comes to attending, and coaching their sporting activities.  That being said, I hated to miss JP's second race of the year.  

This race, in particular, is crazy.  One of our friends, who ran in it years ago, called the start of the race a cross between Braveheart and the Kentucky Derby.  350 + runners practically sprinting from the starting line before things thin out around the one mile mark.  44 teams.  The biggest race, by far, the boys will run in all season.  Also, the deepest and fastest field, too, with some of the best runners from several states.

While I can't provide the details of the race, I can say that it's more nerve-racking to try to follow a race on the race website, on my phone, then it is to watch it in person.  That's how I felt Saturday morning, anyway, as I sat in my office at home and kept refreshing the website, waiting for the results.  

At last, the results came through and I saw that JP had finished 11th overall with a time of 15:14:16, a new PR.  Jack Wallace finished 7th with a time of 15:04:99, also a PR and a new school record.  After the race, JP announced to our friend, Giles Ward, that he had run the second fastest 5K in school history (after Jack's).  MBA was the only school with two runners in the top 11, too.  MBA finished 4th overall, which was quite an accomplishment for the Big Red.  

What was really cool for our family, too, was that Cecil Ward set another PR, finishing the race in 17:03:12.  JP and Cecil have been friends since they were three years old, attending Children's House, so it's special to Cecil begin to come into his own as a runner.  Giles, who ran cross country at North Carolina, is excited for Cecil and so are we.  In fact, JP's sophomore class - JP, Gabe, Cecil, and Wynn - is rounding into form.  

I'm proud of JP, to be sure.  I don't know where this is going but a 15:14:16 is beyond impressive, especially so early in the season.  Can he get to 15:05?  15:00?  Who knows but I wouldn't put it past him.  As I've told him, he has a rare combination of discipline, talent, and desire.  That's rare in a teenage runner, I think.  It might just make him great.  

Sunday, Joe and I went for a three mile run, after he asked me on Saturday night if we could run on Sunday morning.  It always make me happy when Joe asks to go for a run, just as it did when JP was his age.  Joe and ran a different route, easy, and finished at Barista Parlor in Hillsboro Village.  I got a coffee and we walked home, talking the whole way.  Nothing is better than the cool down walk and talk with one of my boys.  

It's always a gift to run with one of my sons.  Always.

JP pre-race.

Joe, after our run on Sunday.

I love this photo of JP and Cecil after the race.  I think I'm going to have it framed.

JP, Wynn (injured), Gabe, and Cecil.  Sophomores.

Saying Goodbye to Driver 8

I was at a Nashville Predators' game a little more than 20 months ago when I got a call from my friend, Doug Brown.  Thinking back now, it's like a bad dream.

"David Easterling has a glioblastoma," he said.  

The very moment I received that telephone call, I think, is when I realized that I was old.  

Young people's high school friends - hell, middle aged people's high school friends - don't get cancer or brain tumors.  At least, that's the way I felt at the time.  Suddenly, unequivocally, old.  

It was like a door had blown open in the middle of winter and a blast of cold, arctic air had hit me right in the face before I could get the door closed.  

I immediately called my friend Rohan, a vascular neurosurgeon at Vanderbilt.  Matter of factly but with a the utmost caring and kindness, because that's the kind of person and doctor he is, Rohan gave me the disheartening news.

"Your friend is going to die from this.  The average life expectancy is 14 to 16 months.  He may live longer - it happens - but he is not going to survive a glioblastoma."

20 months after that conversation, David died in his sleep on a Friday night while his closest high school friends gathered together for a muted celebration of our graduation 40 years ago. 

To say David fought the good fight, never acknowledging he wasn't going to beat the glioblastoma is an understatement.  But I don't want to write about that this morning.  I want to write about the David that I knew, 40 years ago, and the man he became.

The thing that initially struck me about David was his appearance.  His dark hair was always neatly parted on the side and he wore glasses.  Average height.  Average build.  Average looking, to be honest.  In those days, in high school, a conservative dresser.  He struck me as someone who dressed and acted like a high school aged boy from the 1950's.  

What I learned, though, is that underneath the conservative appearing exterior was a fiercely independent, confident person with a biting sense of humor, a love for music, and a relentless desire to succeed.  

To me, David was, first and foremost, a salesman, in all of the best ways.  What he sold varied greatly.  His love of R.E.M. and other music.  His love of Kentucky basketball, Green Bay Packers football, St. Louis Cardinals baseball.  Barrack Obama.  All of it and so much more.

David turned an ability to sell into an amazingly successful career  in Louisville, Kentucky.  He was a serial entrepreneur, staring multiple businesses.  When he sold his company in the last year, he created generational wealth for his family.  

Yesterday, I drove to Louisville, Kentucky, for a celebration of life at the country club he belonged to there.  Several of us from our high school class were there and we talked quietly with each other on a warm, late summer afternoon, remembering David and enjoying each other's company.  We listened when his wife, Mary, addressed the group and brought us all to tears.  David's children, Hayden and Emily, spoke movingly about their love for their father, as well.  

I drove back to Nashville late in the afternoon, lost in my thoughts.  

It's hard to lose one of your own, especially the first one.  

A Saturday to Remember

Yesterday, I woke up at 6 a.m. in a hotel in Decatur, AL, greeted by the first glimpse of legitimate fall weather.

I ended the day on the back deck with Jude in the dying twilight, sipping a Calumet Farms 15 (bourbon) over one big rock, reminiscing about a day with our boys that will go down in the books as one of my favorites.

I arrived in Decatur, AL Friday night after a long, frustrating day at work.  JP's MBA cross country was set to run in the inaugural race of the nascent cross country season, the Chickasaw Trails Invitational on Saturday morning.  Last year, the boys surprised everyone, including Coach Russ, by placing second out of 40 + teams.  I think the team's performance in that race caused everyone - coaches, parents, and runners - to reevaluate the team's potential in a season that, ultimately, ended in Portland, OR, at the NXN Nationals.  Suffice to say I love the Chickasaw Trails Invitational.

As I walked outside yesterday morning a little past 6 a.m. to begin loading my truck, it was still dark and the weather was brisk.  Overcast, with temperatures in the low high '50's or low '60's.  Fall!  Perfect running weather and quite the contrast to last year's weather at the same event, when it was hot and the course was as dusty as Bonnaroo at the Farm in June.  

The Oakville Indian Mounds Park is a 30 minute drive away, so I left right at 6:30 p.m.  I wanted to beat traffic, so my plan was to arrive well in advance of the first race of the morning at 8:25 a.m. (the girls' small school race).  JP's race - the boys' large school 5K - followed at 8:55 a.m.  I knew I had to leave almost immediately after JP's race to drive back and coach Joe's Dodgers' doubleheader in Nolensville at 1:00 and 3:00 p.m.

My plan worked to perfection and I was parked and walking into the park more than an hour before the first race.  There are two sections of the park where schools and parents set up tents for the runners.  Some have quite the setup with two or three large tents, bench seating camping chairs, etc.  Others, like MBA and McCallie, have more utilitarian setups.  One small tent, a tarp on the ground, and no camping chairs.  The Big Red needs to up its tent game, in my view, but JP apparently prefers the more spartan setup.  

I paced the grounds nervously before the race, as I always do.  I walked by the USN tent and many others before I found the MBA tent on the side near the starting line.  I dropped of a Yeti cooler full of Gatorade and bottled water on ice.  The boys were laying around, relaxing, before the girls' small school race, all with AirPods in as they listened to music.  The coaches and a few of the parents were milling about, as well.  One of JP's teammates nudged him and he looked up, saw me, and stood up.  I fist bumped him, asked how he felt, and told him to have fun and run his race.  I fist bumped his other varsity teammates and left to walk around some more.  

Before races, I don't hang around the MBA tent.  I want to give JP the space he needs to get mentally and emotionally ready to race.  I think he needs that time and space.  I also don't want my nervous energy rubbing off on him or any of his teammates.  Other parents do it differently, which is fine.  That's just my way.

After the girls' small school race started, the boys' large school teams began staking out their positions on the starting line, getting loose, and meeting with their coaches for the final time before the race.  As the minutes ticked down to race time, my nervous energy hit a high point.  It was hard to sit still.  That's one of the many cool things about a cross country race, actually - the nervous energy and adrenaline are palpable before the race starts.  The runners feel it.  The coaches feel it.  The parents feel it.  It's heavy in the air.

I decided to hang with Coach Russ during the race and to run with him to various points along the course to cheer on the boys.  He knows the course much better than I do, obviously, and I figured I could help him encourage the boys as they ran by us.  

Before the starter fired his pistol, Coach Russ and I headed for the one mile mark.  We had to cross a narrow bridge, which was bottlenecked with other spectators who had the same idea, but we made it to the other side in plenty of time to stake out our spot.  At the one mile mark, Jack Bowen from McCallie - an outstanding runner - was comfortably in the lead.  To my relief, JP was running with Jack Wallace in the top 15, with Gabe close behind them.  JP looked good.  Strong.  Determined.

Coach Russ and I hustled through the woods to get to the two mile mark.  When the leaders rounded the corner, Jack Bowen was still in the lead, but Jack and JP had moved into the top six or seven.  Wow!  

Next, Coach Russ and I ran, literally ran, to the last run by the finish line, arriving just before the lead group.  Jack Bowen had fallen into second place as he rounded the turn where I stood.  About 10 second behind him, I saw Jack Wallace make the turn, then I saw JP.  He was ten yards or so behind Jack, in fourth place.  Fourth place!  I cheered for him as he turned the corner right in front of me.  I could tell he was spent, although his form was good.   

He ran the 100 yards or so down the home stretch, amidst the cheers from spectators, and finished the 5K course in 15:29:35, a PR!  Fourth place out of 227 runners.  The fastest among sophomores or juniors.  To put it succinctly, JP ran one helluva race.  It was a fantastic start to the season for him.  

Jack Wallace finished the race in 15:18:23, also a PR.  I believe he broke the MBA school record, too.  In fact, all of the varsity runners ran PR's, which is remarkable.  The boys finished in third place overall, behind McCallie (first place) and Vestavia Hills (second place).  

I found JP shortly after the race, hugged him, and talked with him.  I was right.  He was hurting the last half mile, maybe the most he's hurt during a race.  I think that's one of the things that makes him a special runner, though.  The willingness to run through the pain and to push his body to the limit.  That's what he did in his first 2-mile race at USN's River Campus in 100 + degree heat - when the beast was born - and it's what he continues to do now, three years later.  

He was pleased and I was pleased for him.  As a father, what I want to see for both of my boys is for hard work to be rewarded.  JP worked his ass off all summer long.  Running, running, and running.  He was ready for the race on Saturday.  His hard work paid off.  

JP and Gabe after the race.  

JP and Jack Wallace, after placing fourth and third out of 227 runners.

One last photo before the team cool down run.

After the race was over, I walked with JP back to the MBA tent.  He was relaxed.  Relieved.  I was just happy, for him and the team.  I talked to his coaches and few of the parents, then congratulated the rest of the team.  As the boys left for their cool down run, I slipped away and walked to my truck as the boys' JV race was about to start.  I needed to get on the road and to Nolensville, so I could coach Joe's WNSL Dodgers against Nolensville in their first doubleheader of the fall baseball season.  

The drive back was uneventful, as I decompressed after the race and looked forward to coaching Joe and his teammates on the baseball diamond.  Strangely, of all of the baseball fields I've coached or watched the boys play on throughout Middle Tennessee over the years, I had never been to the Nolensville baseball fields.  The night before, I had texted the Nolensville coach, confirmed the address for the ballpark, and texted it to the parents.  

When I arrived shortly after noon, I noticed our field was locked with signs up to keep players off the infield.  A younger team had slipped into left field and was warming up on the grass.  I telephoned Nolensville's coach and confirmed I was in the right place.  As my Dodgers trickled in, I handed out jerseys and hats.  Dodger Blue, just like the old days.  They looked damn good on my boys, too!

The weather was stunning.  Blue skies.  Cooler temperatures, but not too cool.  Fall baseball weather.  A perfect Saturday!  

What a gift of a day for me.  Watching JP run, and run well, in a cross country meet in Danville, AL, then coaching Joe and my guys a doubleheader in Nolensville.  Top 10 day, for sure, and one I will remember for a long time.  I was overwhelmed with a sense of gratitude for the life I have and for the sense of contentment I felt all day long.  I was, just . . . happy, which was so nice on the heels of a Black Friday.

That's why I always say, "the sun always comes out after the rain."  And it does.  Every single time, in a faith restoring way.

Joe's Dodgers fell behind early, as Bennett struggled a bit on the mound.  Batting in the two hole, I gave Joe the bunt sign.  I had suggested he bunt it down the third base line.  Instead, he bunted it toward first base.  Not a bad bunt but the pitcher easily threw him out.  As it turned out, he couldn't handle the pitch well enough to get a bunt down toward third base.  I told him to pull the bat back next time.  It's all about learning.  That's the best part, I think.

When Bennett ran out of gas, I brought Joe to pitch, my though being to save Harper and Keaton, my strongest pitchers, for the the second game.  I needed Joe to put out the fire, as he came in with the bases loaded.  He struggled with his control and walked in a run, then gave up a hit that allowed a second run to score.  At that point, the boys were down 4 or 5 - 1.  

Joe pitched better the next inning, as he seemed to find his rhythm.  Pitching on the big field - 90 feet away from home plate - is not joke.  It's different, to be sure, from pitching on the smaller baseball field.  In the top of the last inning, Nolensville ran out out of pitching and Joe's Dodgers scored several runs.  Joe shut Nolensville down in the bottom of the last inning, striking out the first two batters, and retiring the last batter when Harper made a solid play on a ground ball to third base.  The final was an 8 - 5 win for the Dodgers.

Game 2 was uneventful.  Keaton, a crafty lefty, pitched as well as I've ever seen him pitch.  Harper, another of my big boys, relieved Keaton and retired the side in the last inning.  Another Dodgers' victory, 7 - 2, and a doubleheader sweep.  Quite the debut for the Dodgers, although the Nolensville team, in truth, was not very good.  Still, their players were older than ours, and my boys played very well defensively.  The hitting will come around.

Late in the second game, Paul caught a fly ball in left field, and our fans erupted in cheers for him.  I walked out of the first base dugout, clapping and cheering for him.  Paul's a great boy.  Small, a little timid, but he loves baseball.  I've taken a special interest in him, as I often do with a player or two that I think needs it.  I'm determined for him to have a good experience this fall playing baseball and so far, he is.  

Really, that one play was what coaching baseball is all about for me.  Not the wins and not necessarily how Joe plays - although that is important - but watching a more inexperienced player make a play and see him congratulated and cheered by his teammates.  Way to go Paul!

I drove home after the game.  While Joe took a shower, I sat down on our back deck and had a bourbon.  One rock.  Jude and I talked quietly as the sun set on one of my favorite Saturdays ever.  

Sometimes it feels so good to be alive.

Down

"Some days are diamonds.  Some days are rocks."

Tom Petty was right about that.  Today was a rock, for sure.  

I don't get down very often, thankfully.  It's just not my personality because I enjoy life, and people, so much.  When I do get down, though, it's a darkness more than night.  Very intense.  

I'm not sure when things turned on me because I was fine this morning.  An early meeting over coffee went well, I thought.  As I was leaving, I had a happenstance meeting with a nice lady who had blocked me in so she could unload some items into the shop she owns at the Factory.  I offered to help and we struck up a pleasant conversation.  She's a huge Tennessee sports fan and went to college in Knoxville, as I did.  We shared a few stories before I got I my truck for the 5 minute drive to my office.  It was one of those chance encounters that makes life interesting.  I hope her shop does well.  

As usual, there was a lot going on at work for me and not enough hours in the day to get to everything.  Getaway days are always stressful.  Knowing I would be leaving at the end of the day for Decatur, AL, for JP's first cross country meet of the season tomorrow only made me more aware of the need to get things done.  I've got to get some help not work, and soon.  It's hard to do that, though, when I'm so busy doing the actual work.  It's just a lot.  

I'm down, too, because of the death, illness, and misfortune that seems to have settled in and around my friends and acquaintances.  It's a long list and one that continued to grow longer every day.  The memorial service and funeral for my friend, David, is next weekend in Louisville, KY, and that's on my mind, I know.  On top of that, this week I learned of two more friends who are dealing with serious illnesses and, in one case, a bleak future, at best.  It's hard to understand how these type of things can continue to happen to good people.  And why they're happening now.  It make a person wonder.