Middle of Nothing: A beginning

In the middle of nothing is everything. In the middle of everything is nothing. Memories of the past are fuzzy, but the past is clear. Thoughts of my future are clear, but the path is fuzzy.

The simplistic will refer to what I see as duality by the all too easy zodiac sign; the Gemini. Sadly, it is far too complicated a life to look to some meaningless alignment of stars as the sole basis for the conflicted mess that has become the mind of man today. Would we assume that these alignments are to blame for all duality? Are only those born under the sign of Gemini conflicted? If not, then signs of the zodiac cannot begin to explain our daily duality. No. That explanation lay considerably deeper. This is simply my story of conflicted development.

As all stories have a beginning, so too does mine. Reality, though, says that the beginning is no different than any beginning. The beginning is not the story, but the story only exists because of the beginning. I was unaware of where the story began until this moment as I reflected on the events which brought me to this place.

Several years earlier, I began this journey. At the time, I had only the knowledge that I was moving somewhere. Forward, I assumed; or should I say hoped?

I found myself, after several years of rapid development, without work looking for the next step in the ladder I had been climbing. After several weeks of what felt like disregard, I took to the road. This was not a vacation, it was a soul discovery road trip under the guise of a mind clearing drive to the coast.

I had spoken frequently to the young mothers I counseled about the importance of goal setting. “Begin with the end in mind,” I taught.

Choosing to ignore my own words, I simply set to the road. Driving South, I thought the answers would arrive within minutes. I had been fortunate enough to save well during the five years that had passed since graduation. Though no one would confuse me with Bill Gates, money, it would seem, would not be a deterrent on this trip. Deterrents would arise, though, and more swiftly than I had imagined.

As I backtracked towards middle America, I found myself in Boise.

“What'll it be,” asked the attendant.

“Fill it with regular.”

“Where you headed?”

“You know, I'm not sure. Taking a trip, but just not sure where I am going or how I am going to get there, other than by car.” I did know, though. I was going away. Fear of the known was driving the Lexus, I was merely along for the ride.

“Really? Always wanted to do something like that, just never had the balls to go on the road without a plan.”

“Not sure that balls is what it takes. This started because I had nowhere to go, and no one with whom to make the trip. I simply got behind the wheel of my car and started driving,” I confided.

I could have gone on for hours, but certainly the thick man with deep-set brown eyes and jet black hair had no desire to listen to the ramblings of a man who had no real knowledge to pass along. It really exemplified the state of my mind. I was headed East; I was driving, but the truth is, I was headed to the middle. But which middle I did not yet know.

It was a bright, sunny August afternoon. I had left Seattle early in the morning thinking I was taking a scenic trip to the Oregon coast. The jagged rocks and crashing waves always gave me a sense of comfort. Though it seemed that August days were nothing but misty haze along that particular stretch of beach, the truth of the rocks and waves were always something to behold. When I reached Portland, though, I turned East.

At home were many of the regular creature comforts that many had grown accustomed to; nice furniture, flat screen television, an apartment full of that which I thought proved my successes. I had graduated from Lewis & Clark College, a small private college in Portland five years earlier. In those aforementioned five years, I had rapidly developed in a career working with underprivileged families. This was not the typical underpaid social worker environment. I had graduated with a bachelors degree in psychology before earning a law degree. As an advocate employed by a division of the Knight Foundation, I worked with underprivileged families scarred by mental health trauma. Many of the families I had worked with suffered from various forms of mental and physical abuse.

I was unsure exactly why I chose to confide in this attendant. I guess I needed someone other than myself with whom to speak. On these long trips, I frequently turn the music up very loud if for no other reason than to temporarily drown out my continuous thoughts. I was quite familiar with controlling topics of conversation and guiding conversations along a pre-defined path.

As I headed out of the store front towards my gleaming silver Lexus convertible, I turned back and asked the man, “Is there anywhere peaceful that I could stay?”

“Idaho Falls isn't too far, but it will be another 300 miles or so.”

“Yuck. I've been on the road all day. Maybe I'll head up there tomorrow. Know any good places to eat nearby?”

“Depends on what you're looking for. Most people don't know this, but Boise has one of the largest Basque populations around. There's a really cool little Basque restaurant over on Capitol. If you want more traditional, there's a place over on Protest or an awesome old-fashioned drive in restaurant that serves prime-rib over on State Street.”

“Basque, you say? You know, it always seems easier to go with what I know. Think I'll go a different direction. Guess I am on an adventure. How far is it?”

“It's just up the road a bit. Get back on the 84 take the 184 towards downtown, at the end, you'll be downtown just a couple blocks away,” said the attendant.

Feeling up to a new experience after a long day on the road, I asked for the name of the restaurant.

“Easy. Bar Elkano. I remember that because I love elk meat and the name of the place was real close to that. They have lots of different lamb stuff on the menu,” he said.

“Thank you,” I replied. Wanting to show a friendlier side, I scoured for a name tag. Just as I was walking out, I caught a glimpse of the name; Todd. “Thank you Todd. I appreciate all your help.”

As I got into the Lexus, I called information to get the address. Plugging in the address to my GPS, I headed right to the heart of downtown Boise.

As I approached the door, I saw that they were open until one o'clock. I was thankful as I had not eaten much. So consumed with driving, I had only stopped for gas and snacks. I was desperate for some good food. Maybe, too, I was looking forward to being in the company of others. It had been a long day of lonesome driving. Though I kept the music loud, the thoughts still crept out and invaded my consciousness.

I had taken quite the circuitous route from Seattle. Almost ten hours on the road had taken its toll on my eyes and my body. The Lexus was comfortable; but ten hours is a long time to sit in a car grinding along long stretches of nothingness.

Driving through the Columbia Gorge, I saw plenty of National Scenic area signs, but most of it was vast stretches of brown fields running alongside the Columbia River. While a student at Lewis & Clark, I had explored much of the West end of the gorge, near the Portland metro area, but had rarely gone past Cascade Locks. On a sunny day, it was a peaceful drive, but not much on the scenery. Once I headed up the mountains, though, that changed. The Blue Mountains were quite picturesque. Not in the way that say Mt. Hood or Crater Lake would have been on a warm clear afternoon. More so how any pine tree lined stretch of highway would have been. There was a small river along much of the stretch.

I pondered as I moved from the bleakness of the fields in the gorge to the wondrous mountains just how it had been so long since I had truly noticed what surrounded me daily. Far too often, when in work mode, the ind switches to auto-pilot. We are conscious of everything we pass, but are not conscious of of our consciousness. It baffled me that I could be so close to such vastly varied landscape without even considering any of it for more than a moment.

I couldn't, though, as there was always somewhere to be; always working; always in meetings, it seemed.

Surely everyone who loses a job goes through this same thing, I thought to myself. Suddenly aware of everything around them. Suddenly cognizant of their own lack of consciousness.

Stephen A. Smith is an idiot... BUT....

I personally cannot stand Smith... and the problem is that frequently, if you disagree with him, he will say it is because you are racist... now... that being said, I do think I know what he was TRYING to say...

Essentially, while it is not widely talked about, violence is gender neutral. There ARE violent women that attack men. There ARE women that rape men. It is an ugly truth that no one wants to discuss. There ARE women that abuse men, and while we all like to say "men should be able to handle it; they can walk away." That is no different than questioning why women don't walk away from abuse.

The difference is that there is an even BIGGER shame in being an abused man; it is reported even less than violence against women.

Personally, I know nothing about the Ray Rice case and don't care too... but if you think that there aren't women who purposely provoke men TRYING to get them to take a swing, then you are sadly very naive. There are. It is a reality. Police officers can tell you as can many. Does it justify the reaction?

Ask yourself a question, at what point does gender become irrelevant? Are we saying women can do things men cannot? If a women balls her fist and starts beating up a man, punching him in the face, when is he allowed to defend himself?

I have been punched by two different women; I was kicked in the gut by another. I walked away. But you know what is sad, had a man done those things to me, no one would question an equal response.

Do I think that this happened in Ray Rice's case? No clue. I don't read every police report; and I am not a Ravens fan so have no need... I am only pointing out that I think I know what Smith was TRYING to get at...

Pac-12 Picks:2014

This is sure to be unpopular amongst many, but this is how I see the conference playing out:

NORTH DIVISION

Team     Conf. Record      Overall

UO         7-2                          9-3

UW        6-3                          9-4

Stan       6-3                          8-4

OSU       4-5                          7-5

Cal          1-8                          2-10

SOUTH DIVISION

Team     Conf. Record      Overall

UCLA     8-1                          11-1

USC        6-3                          8-4

ASU       5-4                          7-5

AZ           3-6                          5-7

Utah      2-7                          4-8

Col          0-9                          2-10

Conf Title Game: UCLA v. Oregon

Conf Champion: UCLA

UCLA makes the inaugural Football Playoff

Oregon has a chance at an At Large berth into a BCS type game because of Mariota...

Churchill High School Class of 1984: To strive, to seek, to find

Originally, I had planned to allow my pre-reunion article stand on its own merit and become the sole thoughts shared of this incredible celebration we all experienced. Then, while headed home, some words from a Tennyson poem blasted into my head and would not escape. They were words that brought it all home  reminding me just how unique our experience seems to have been.

Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'

We are not now that strength which in old days

Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;

One equal temper of heroic hearts,

Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

In the literary world, there is much debate over the meaning of the poem in its entirety and this last few lines. Some saw it objectively, some as irony. I choose to see this the way I see the Churchill High School Class of 1984; a heroic approach to the world.

We are each endowed with our own unique skills, abilities and providence which make a general "soul" of the individual. Each of us on an individual basis will be made weak by time and fate, but if we are strong in will, and do not yield, there is nothing that cannot be accomplished.

As a group, I feel this unique character and bond that I simply cannot know whether others experience this unique blend of character. What we do know is that well over 100 Lancers showed up this weekend to celebrate life together. There were stories from high school which made us laugh; and there were private and personal anecdotes shared between former classmates which brought people great emotion.

We each have the capacity to have an impact on every person with whom we come in contact. It seems that this group, has used that ability to make the shared experience one which is full of positive moments.

I never knew that Tina (Vanourney) Ehrig was a transplant into this school in eighth grade. Hearing stories from others whose ability to adapt was made possible through incredible individuals brought that character even closer to the heart.

Nevertheless, what makes us all so special is really ineffable. We seem to have developed a sort of group consciousness which allows us to have individual character alongside a group character. Many of us have grown children. Many more have teenagers, and there is, of course, Navid who has a toddler and baby on the way. We have grandchildren in our collective and couples who have been together for nearly the entire time we have been gone from Churchill.

As I talked to, quite literally, hundreds of people over the weekend, it kept coming back to some form of unique bond. My wife Leslie, who is seven years younger than us, was quite surprised at our ability to celebrate together.

The fact that two nights in a row, we were able to carry on until after one o'clock in the morning speaks volumes to our collective love of life. If not something also about our love of drink!

I loved every single moment of this weekend. I will cherish every conversation, every smile, every laugh and every tear we shared this weekend. I will cherish the time on the golf course, and the laughs shared after. Karaoke Friday night was fun, but it seemed even more fun with the impromptu event on Saturday night.

Rich Shaw kicked off that festivity and, at the urging of Kim, Jack Byrne simply "nailed it" with one of my favorite "guilty pleasure songs" of the eighties. Explaining why I like that song is kind of like explaining why this group of people work so well together; there simply are not words. There are tears. Laughs. Sweat. Hugs. There is a love. What we have is rare and I think we all cherish it in our own way. Is that why we can get together and have such great times? Maybe.

But as I said prior, it really is all about the people. Kim, Michele, Amy and Jack all did an incredible job making this not just a "quickie" night at the bar, but making it an extravaganza. Without their dedication and hard work, none of this would be possible.

"All through life we cling to many errors, and take care never to examine their ground, merely from a fear, of which we ourselves are unconscious, of possibly making the discovery that we have so long and so often believed and maintainers is false."

I have a saying I kind of look at as a life mantra. If you wish to subject everything to yourself, then subject yourself to everything.

I wish I could thank every single person I talked to this weekend; every person  I shared a laugh with; every person who went out of their way to give me a hug. 

And, to answer that question posed all afternoon at the pool. yes, it was hot as hell in that suit!

We continue to strive; we continue to seek; we continue to find; we continue to never yield. Asa  group, that makes us special. As individuals it makes us better. Thank you all for a wonderful weekend. Thank you all for an amazing growth experience we called high school.

Churchill High School Class of 1984: Duality brings us perspective

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” So begins the Dickens classic A Tale of Two Cities. While this timeless tale was a story about the French Revolution and its impact on two cities, it also had a deeper and more spiritual core which we all live; duality. Duality is a life force we cannot escape. Rather than looking to escape this duality, we as a collective, embraced this struggle and made the world a better place.

What makes the Winston Churchill High School class of 1984 special? Everything and nothing. It is that duality that has defined not just each individual member of this class, but the class as a whole.

High school is a unique time in our lives. We are growing and learning about ourselves. There is so much inner angst and turmoil at these changes, yet we only see the world through the filtered lens of our own personal psyche. We know little about this duality and even less about the world. But we think we know, and that is what creates the power to change.

We all have our struggles. Mine were with adaptation. Learning to live and love in a place where I had no history. We were a class of 301 which is special. We can all look at that last one and say to ourselves “I was that one of three hundred and one.” I did. I was that last one. Making it to graduation almost did not happen for me. To make it to that day was special because it involved an incredible journey full of sacrifices and hard work.

While most of our classmates spent their senior year with a relatively light load in the classroom, I was taking ten or more classes every day. I made mistakes which resulted in the necessity of that work. Getting to graduation was a struggle, but it paved the way for my future. I wanted to get there. I had to work. I learned how to push myself to the very limits and come out on top.

I suppose some of this can be traced to running over 100 miles every week while competing in cross country and track, but I had never applied that kind of effort to the things that matter most. School. Life. Suddenly, as I embarked on life as an adult, anything seemed possible. Not only was anything possible. Everything was possible. Duality. Each of us had a similar journey, yet unique in each individual.

We lived in our own minds, our own world; our own lives. We did so because we were not yet able to see outside ourselves. That is a natural process that keeps us alive; survival of the fittest.

It would not be until the next generation entered the world; our own children; that we would begin to see this duality played out in front of our eyes. I had two boys, three years apart. They were a mini-duality of my life. Watching them grow, I suddenly saw things I could not imagine. Struggle. Pain. Love. Laughter. Tears. All those things that defined our lives as high school students were right there in my life and it all came rushing back.

On graduation night, we heard many inspiring words about what the future would hold. Some embraced those words, some chose to ignore them, some even scoffed. Platitudes they seemed to many. Nonetheless, those very words proved to have a fundamental basis in truth. All things were possible and all things were just beginning for the class of 1984. The journey wasn’t over, it had just begun.

As we gather thirty years later to celebrate these moments that began to define us, we have all grown and made our own impact. There are police officers, firemen, former military, school teachers, doctors, lawyers, dentists, coaches. These are people who have made an impact on the world through their business or personal endeavors.  And these are but just a few of the many ways we would impact the world. There are many others, too many to list. And that is the power of the collective.

Collectively, we have traveled the world. Collectively we have taught thousands of children. We have saved lives and given life. We have created culture. We have done many things as a group and that is something in which we can all take Lancer Pride.

Along this journey of life, we have lost some of our companions to accident and tragedy. Another lesson we all learned; life is fragile. We have to embrace the life we have because there is no other life to embrace. I think we have all done this in our unique ways.

There was a time when many of us struggled with our own identity. I think that time is gone. We have become an incredible group full of incredible individuals. Andy Warhol once said that everyone gets their fifteen minutes of fame. While that may be true, it is not that fifteen minutes that define us, rather it is everything before and after those fifteen minutes which defines our mind, our body and our soul.

The namesake of our school, Sir Winston Churchill, gave us many, many quotes. To me, the one that seems apropos for this gathering is as follows:

"Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning."

We have come so far in thirty years. The journey, however, is far from over. The end of the beginning.

What made the class of 1984 special? It was the people. It was always about the people.

A new beginning

Tomorrow marks a new day; a new beginning.

It has been a difficult struggle for me over the last year. I have been balancing many things including my inability to separate the writing from the writer.

While this all began as a bit of an experiment, there was always plenty of accolade for what was done; when I tried to become that which I had originally opposed; a journalist; it backfired on my psyche.

While I could say I was trying to be objective, the criticism was difficult on a personal level. I had not yet separated the writing from the writer. I took criticism too personal.

Over the course of the last seven months I have worked to simply find my own voice again. At times, I  thought the voice was lost forever. At other times, I thought that the receivers simply did not get the voice. I thought it was they who were lost.

Today, I recognize that neither was lost; only my recognition of where reality lay.

Tomorrow, I begin a new chapter in my writing life as I have found a voice for whatever creative side to writing I have while balancing the more factual side. In my day-to-day writing, the reality is that I write for a site which covers recruiting. That means that my daily writing is focused, for the most part, on recruiting topics.

There is a different side to me, though, that wants to attempt to create some form or word art. I may or may not be successful in each attempt, but that side of me needs a chance to be expressed and it needs the opportunity to be seen outside of the "pay" world or writing.

I love writing for Duck Sports Authority and sharing my thoughts with our readers. That is not going to change anytime soon. Tomorrow, though, I have the opportunity to share some of my more personal thoughts on the Ducks with a different audience.

I hope that Duck fans appreciate this new direction. I hope they enjoy my opinions. Well, at the very least, I hope this gives them a perspective not expressed prior.

All will be more clear tomorrow.

Thank you everyone for your continued support.

Go Ducks!