just a tic on the odometer

Just hit 40 on the odometer over the weekend. It's one of those forced-march kind of things if you're lucky enough to survive on this piece of dirt - we age, therefore, we accumulate. I look in the mirror and see wrinkles and subcutaneous fat that I don't recall accumulating; it's hard to miss the lack of hair on my head, too, or the white hairs that are starting to creep over the beard I've grown.

Idunno, these things don't stare back at me and scream "Methusaleh," they simply just exist. Like the phantom pains in my back some mornings or the tightness I'll feel in my fingers when it's cold. I keep thinking that 40 does not feel that much different than 35, or 30, or 21, or 16. The same lame thoughts rattle around in my mind in very much the same addled manner that they did before. I possess no wisdom on account of the miles I've travelled (excepting that I will advise anyone listening not to get a degree in creative writing, embrace technology - it's embracing the world, duh).

I can look back and tick off the vast number of mistakes that I've made, and if you were interested in listening I'd tell you all of them. But we both know that's boring stuff, another guy musing on his failings. I've had some successes, too; but - again - that's another blunt object with which to bludgeon your conscious mind to sleep.

They tell us that reaching 40 is a milestone and that it's important, somehow. But in reality it's simply a number on the way, just like your car hitting 100,000 on its' odometer. Sh*t, the car doesn't mind, the number only has meaning for the driver. Much is made of the "mid-life crisis" that supposedly hits men around my age - but if I can be frank I think it only applies to men much more wealthy than I. There's no convertible Corvette in my future, no plastic surgery or trips to those skanky tanning salons, and the idea of a trophy wife is only something I say in irony. No, thanks.

A few weeks ago I was huffing and puffing away at the gym and Pat Robertson was on his "700 Club" explaining that he wanted to live to be 100 years old and giving viewers his diet plan, at least for breakfast. It was a surprisingly amusing piece, he advocates eating whole grains with nuts and berries and a touch of maple syrup "so it tastes good." I don't know how long I've got, and don't care if I see 100 or not, but I know I'm not ready to go yet. I've got too much left to do.

Ah, but that raises the specter of "the bucket list," does it not? Life is the best page-turner ever written, and it gets written by the minute. I've got words to try and weave together - maybe they'll be good enough to publish and maybe not. I've got kids to raise - maybe they'll all be scions of industry and maybe not. I still haven't surfed well. I haven't travelled nearly enough. I haven't kept up with friends as much as I'd like to. "So much to do, and so little time."

What have I accumulated on the road so far? People will disappoint the hell out of you and you'll disappoint the hell out of them. Money won't solve any of your existential problems. The best laid plans are often riddled with holes you never thought were there. These things are on 1,000 different bumper stickers and "inspirational" office pictures. Bullsh*t, really.

Boil it down to this: show as much love as you can, in whatever way you're comfortable showing it. Explain yourself. Apologize sincerely and often. Forgive liberally, and forget.

Make time for others, we ain't here forever y'know.

Valar Morghulis

I've been alive nearly 40 years and I can count on one hand - one finger, really- the number of people I've met who was truly committed to becoming a Roman Catholic priest.

The Catholic priesthood has taken a public-relations beating for centuries, and they've become an attractive target in part thanks to the sins and excesses of the men who served before them. The child abuse scandal is unavoidable, obviously. Some of my friends of other faiths have declared their unmarried status as "weird" or simply, "not right." Again, it's easy to understand, they're an easy target. I could bore everyone reading this with my simpleton's understanding of the whys and wherefores of the Catholic priesthood (excepting the abuse of children and power....I cannot understand the inexplicable crimes committed in any sensible way).

I can say this: all of the priests I've known were good men committed to serving their parishes and communities with everything they had. They are required to go to those places that most of us tend to eschew in favor of nice, safe shopping malls and spacious parks. To name a few: prisons, death rows, homeless shelters, missions, filthy tenements. Wherever you find the least among us is where you'll find priests and nuns, ministering and tending to the needs of those who have nothing but needs.

I'll be honest, I've only ever thought about a life of service in that "morning after" guilt complex. As in "Oh, Jesus am I hung over. Dear Lord if I get over this I swear I'll never have another drop if you'l just take this god@#Ned headache away.......I'll go to Uganda and pass out water and rice for a year and be a good boy, oh and by the way if it's no trouble could you make the Redskins play better?"

When I worked for the Public Defender I saw the religious who made the prison visits, the inmates lining up for communion and confession. To make those trips, week in and week out, requires a special type of patience.

And so it was that last week a seminarian named Mike Fallon suddenly passed away at age 40. I'd known him as an acquaintance, our families were in the same parish as we grew up. We were in the same Cub scout den for a while. We attended different DC area prep schools. I can't say we were close, but he was always nice to me and hopefully I was nice to him. Several years ago he employed my firm to represent him in a worker's compensation case for an on-the-job injury he'd suffered. He was in the Catholic University seminary at that time but they'd started getting nervous about his injury, and he was concerned they'd ask him to leave.

At that time it was clear that he was committed to his calling. I don't know if it came easily to him or not, his father was a Deacon at our church (and a good preacher, as I recall...I can still remember some of the points he discussed during his homilies). In my very brief time with him I can recall his patient demeanor with my dad (you have to be a saint to be one of my dad's clients, because my dad has no patience whatsoever). He was also deeply concerned about his ability to return to the seminary and resume his studies.

I never spoke with him again. I left the practice to do what I'm doing right now. I found out about his death last week but was glad to hear that he'd passed away at a seminary, wherein he was preparing to begin a life that was exactly the one he wanted, one of personal sacrifice and service to others. He was a good man, gone from this plane far before his time. Our church needs more men like him. It is rare, these days - perhaps more rare than at any time since Emperor Constantine "legitimized" the faith - to find people with large enough hearts and brave enough souls to commit themselves to a life of service. Walk on, Mike. Nil igitur est mors ad nos.

Heading to the dump with LaRon

A little touch o' the skank for your day, you're welcome fellas.

So it's Monday night and I have magnanimously decided to ignore the snoozefest that is gonna be the Colts-Buccaneers game. Yawn. I know! I'll write something on my blog instead, it's brilliant!

I've been a little under the weather and had to run to see my doctor today and that afforded me about an hour of driving which meant sports talk. Apparently, even when they win, the Shanahans are ridiculed and second-guessed. Also, Messr. Romo is yet again a pariah instead of hero...and the Eagles o-line sucks. I didn't know this, but I did after listening to el radio.

I watched the Redskin victory over the Rams with feigned interest. At 17-0 I was falling asleep, and feeling sorry for those St. Louis (to me, they're still LA) fans they kept showing on TV. "awww, poor folks, their team sucks." This makes me a weak-ass Redskin fan, I may have a good heart but it's dumb. And then the Rams crept back into the game and I'm tearing 2 of my last three hairs outta my scalp (it's ok, I've got plenty to spare on my back). Rex sucked. His pass protection sucked. Ryan Torain didn't. The difference was a pretty competent-looking defense...thanks to whoever had the idea to sign Barry Cofield, Stephen Bowen, and Ryan Kerrigan. Whew!

Oh, and if you watched the game you heard that Laron Landry was out at the start of the 3rd quarter. The crack reporting team at 980 AM (sports talk) hears that Landry had to take a dump. Hard-hitting journalism....it was a moving account. Moving.....get it? Ah, shut up.

After the win I was off to look for some curtain-related stuff I cared very little about. Thanks to the inventor of the iphone I was watching the Dallas Cowboys give away a big lead to Detroit. I only found out later that the giveaway was literal - boy did Romo suck in the second half of that game. Someone wrote in the Washington Post today that the Lions look pretty good and that he'd have to re-schedule his Thanksgiving afternoon nap....I'm with him, those Lions might be worth a look. I also noticed that the Eagles melted down against an inferior San Francisco team.....heh. So, I inhaled deeply the scents of schadenfreude. Delicious.

Now, a reasonable person will read this and think "Jesus, that's all this guy does....watch football and talk about watching football...what a waste of flesh and bone." And that person would be right, except not. My weekend started with Friday evening hockey practice that ended after 8pm, then a 6am wakeup on Saturday and Sunday for hockey PLUS the added requirement of waiting for my eldest to get home from her marching band competition at...oh....about 1:30 am Sunday morning. When I got up Sunday morning to take my son to his hockey game I was running on 3 cups of coffee and about 4 hours of sleep. And I made marinara sauce while watching the games.

The point, ergo, is that I may indeed be useless but I serve a purpose. Whatever that means.

Hey! Didya hear? Hank Jr. called our President and Vice President "the enemy." And compared him to a certain Mr. Hitler. Nice job......"are you ready? I said, get ready.......are you ready for a jackass?" There's a guy who should stick to his day job. I'm convinced Fox Propaganda put him on hoping he'd say something exactly that crazy. Mission accomplished.

Here's a random thought: has anyone ever heard Mr. Obama take direct credit for the killing of Usama Bin-Laden or any of the other terrorists our military has erased over his term? I have not, and yet there's this weird "cottage industry" of people proclaiming that he deserves exactly ZERO credit for "making the world and the U.S. safer." Well, I doubt that killing these guys makes any of us safer - first of all. But I find it odd that these "advocates of the armed forces" are setting up this straw man only to knock it down. It's a heaping pile of bullshit baloney, I guess no one's forced to eat it though.

Remember folks, always practice your defensive driving.....