I woke up about 15 minutes before my alarm went off this morning, Wednesday. I actually don't know why I even use an alarm clock because I always wake up before it goes off. Lance, my future son-in-law, and I had a 6:21 am tee time at Woodhaven Country Club in Palm Desert so at 5:15 am, I was up and sitting in front of my computer actually getting some real work done before leaving at 5:45 am. Amy is sitting next to me begging for an early breakfast, she normally eats at 6:00. If you get up at 3:00 am to go to the bathroom, she tries to fool you into feeding her. Yes, our precious Amy is a liar!
I get dressed, grab a few waters for the course, put my golf shoes on and just like that, I am on my way, excited to be playing golf again. My clubs were in the car because this is the second day in a row I was able to get out, lucky me. I pull out of the driveway and it is still pitch black. I have the radio very loud as usual, I do love my music loud. The golf course is about 6 miles from my house, right off the 10 freeway. I am about 1 mile from the exit and suddenly, silence. The radio goes off, a bell rings from inside the car and I loose power. I am officially out of gas. For the first time since I was 26, I ran out of gas. This sucks but I’m doing 70 and I can see the entrance to the off-ramp just ahead of me. I know that once I get to the top of the off-ramp, all I have to do is make a right turn and at the bottom of the hill is a filling station. I think I have a chance but as it turns out, I fall about 20 feet short from my turn. So I am just sitting there thinking now WTF? I do the “Call of Shame” and Lance picks up his phone. He says “No worries.” and says he’ll be there in about 10 min.
I decide to try my AAA card and after a brief run thru of my card number and cell number, the dispatch babe says the guy will be there in less than 20 min. So I call Lance back and tell him to go to the course and I will be there shortly and I make it very clear, “Don’t tell Rebecca!”
The guy from AAA is there right on time, gives me two gallons of gas and I am off. My clock says 6:18. I let Lance know I am back on the road and to have the carts ready.
When I show up, he meets me in the parking lot and I load up my clubs. We are still the first ones on the course for the day. By the way, he had filled up four cups with ice and water, two each. What a nice guy. He’s not sucking up to the future father-in-law either, he is a nice, young man... so far. Actually, Rebecca and I have come to really like Lance and are happy Jen is with him. He is a hard worker and treats Jen and June well. I think he is still a bit nervous around Rebecca because of her first words to him when they met. “If you hurt my daughter, just know I have a shot-gun and a shovel and I know how to use them both!”
For the record, Rebecca edits my blogs for spelling and grammar. She warned me about the gas being low coming home from dinner last night. I am writing this at about 11:00 am and until she read this, I had not told her about running out of gas. I will add her reaction as a footnote at the end, I am sure it will include the word “jackass”.
I hate to skip around, but my pet name for her is Sweetie and hers for me is Jackass. I was Sweetie too until somewhere between the first and second years of marriage. I haven’t been able to pinpoint the date or exact reason for the switch but she claims it was earned… whatever.
Back to golf. Lance took up the game this year right before summer. Part of the perks of working as a bartender at a private country club is free golf when the course is empty. It was 110 degrees plus for over 90 days straight this year so he played a lot of golf. I asked him this morning and he thought somewhere between 30 and 35 rounds. I played with him at least 10 of those and he has really improved. Today he had an off round but still managed to shot just over 100. Same course 3 months ago he would have shot 130 with a bunch of do-overs. I had a good round of 78 including two birdies. We both shot about the same thing yesterday at his course.
The day was really uneventful. No broken windows and only 1 conversation with an elderly woman and her cat. Lance’s tee shot went a bit wayward and she was waiting for us holding the ball. She was very pleasant and thought this was a social event. It took about 5 minutes of conversation about how smart her cat was, yada yada yada and she finally realized we weren’t coming in for coffee. Lance hits his next shot left again so it was off to meet more neighbors. It felt like we were running for President of the HOA.
I gave Lance a bunch of golf balls when he started golfing back in May because you loose a lot when you are a beginner. On about the 6th hole, I looked down at his ball and it was one that I had given him. I could tell because it had a smiley face on the side consisting of two red dots and a green happy mouth on the bottom. My pop had marked all of his balls (golf balls, c’mon people) with this so they could be easily identified in the rough. (OK, one or two hit the fairway.) My dad and I loved playing Woodhaven but it has been awhile. Not since he cut off his thumb with the table saw that I got him for Christmas about 10 years ago. (That is another topic for a blog for sure) He tried to keep playing after that but the pain was too much. Poor guy even used to duct tape the stump to help but no go, he now lives golf thru his other son, Tiger Woods.
All in all a pretty nice morning. The weather has finally broken and it is under 100 for the first time since May. It has been a hot S.O.B. out here in Palm Springs this year. Rebecca says that “This is where lizards come to die.” I am ready for Fall, a chilly 88 degrees, yummy.
OK, here is my all-time favorite golf joke:
A guy hooks his tee shot and the ball ends up sitting in this beautiful field of Buttercups. He gets out of his cart, walks over to his ball, lines up his shot and right as he is about to swing, a Fairy Princess appears from out of nowhere. He’s shocked. She looks at him with her beautiful, blue eyes and says, “Sir, if you pick up your ball and move it out of my beautiful field of Buttercups, I will give you all the butter you want for the rest of your life. The guy looks at her and thinks for a few seconds. Then he says… ”Where the hell were you yesterday when I hit into the Pussy Willows!
OK, the blog is over for today, that was officially number ten. Only 52 more to go. Rebecca just came in and is about to edit the blog and learn of my running out of gas this morning. Her response is to follow.
“You ran out of gas?” then, mild laughter. “How come you didn’t tell me?” As it turns out, she wasn’t that surprised. Am I that predictable? So I asked her, “Why didn’t you have a bigger reaction?” Her answer was “Jennifer is here.” They just got back from picking out the wedding invitations. Rebecca then pipes in, “I would have probably called you a Jackass!” There it is!
Just keeping my legend and mystic alive.
Fight on!
Troy
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Troy on Troy - Epiitaph, a Novel
Troy on Troy - Epitaph, a Novel
Epitaph
Chapter 2
He could see the California / Nevada border about 25 miles ahead. The City of Primm Nevada consists of two truck stops, 4 fast-food restaurants, two rundown hotel casinos, a factory outlet shopping center and the tallest roller coaster in the World. At least it was the tallest at one time. Then another 45 miles ahead of him was Sin City.
There isn’t a lot to look at between Primm and Vegas but there was a small sign indicating gas station at the next turn off. This was his chance. He pulled off the 15 and headed for the filling station, it looked deserted but he thought there looked to be some kind of movement inside the convenience store. He pulled around back to see if he could find a bathroom to rinse away the guilt he was wearing like a crusty coating of hard black tar. There was only an out-house. Off by a shed in the corner of the lot looked to be a hose on a pole sticking out of the dusty ground and he knew this was his “spa de jour.”
The water was ice cold and must have been coming from a very deep well. The briskness of the water was energizing. Walking inside the store dripping wet but clean generated just a bit of a second glance from the clerk for his appearance. The only purchases available and desperately needed were a loud tourist shirt that was too short at the waist, a cheesy hat like somebody’s grandfather might wear fishing, a microwave bean and cheese burrito and a Mountain Dew for the caffeine. Not a bad selection really considering the remoteness of the store’s location. After filling up the tank of the MG, the car sped off and the driver was feeling slightly better about his appearance.
There are over 150,000 hotel / motel rooms in Las Vegas so ones options are far from limited. Driving past the strip and just beyond the other side of old downtown Vegas, there is a string of cheap or “budget” motels as the owners would want them called. A credit card still wasn’t an option so finding a place that would prefer to deal in cash was a key component for lodging for the night. That wasn’t going to be a problem from the outer appearances of these shit holes. The sign on the building said “Cable TV, $29.00 per night.” The run down building was a faded, light green color with white trim. The pool had been filled in with dirt years ago and was growing a variety of weeds that don’t take much water to survive. This was the place.
He went to the desk and rang the bell. It looked like a 1950’s movie set but with a smell of old fast food. An elderly, heavy set man in a wife beater T-shirt that said “Zeppelin,” came out from the back and they negotiated a rate of $200.00 for the week, strictly a cash transaction done with a smile. The registration card was signed “Ron Cey” as he loved the LA Dodgers of the 70’s. Cey played from 1971 to 1982 and was nicknamed the Penguin for his short legs and the way he waddled as he ran. The clerk didn’t care what name was put down; nobody ever gave their real names at his kind of place.
The parking lot was empty and the place may have only had one or two tenants for the night, there looked to be about 15 rooms total in the entire complex. A spot was chosen about 8 spaces down from his assigned door. Parking was available right in front of the room but he was still better off playing it safe. Walking to the room, all of his belongings could be carried in one hand. The cooler was brought, keys and yes, his newest possession, a large, dark brown, leather briefcase with four stubby, brass legs about a half in long on each corner. Looking at the door, he realized his room number was the same Cey had worn on his jersey, 10.
Once inside, the case was stowed under the sagging bed and he striped down naked for a shower. After just a few seconds, the water got hot. Stepping into the shower, the water had to be readjusted so the temperature cooled enough that the flesh wouldn’t burn. A full bottle of hotel shampoo and half a bar of soap later, he stepped out of the bathroom and lay wet on top of the bed to air dry and sleep. Food was needed but the body was demanding a deposit in the old sleep bank.
Screaming, arguing, guns; he was dreaming again. This time, the setting was back at Lucci’s and someone was screaming. This was before the run for safety had started; this was the first moment of confrontation.
Two guys in suits are screaming, pointing guns at him, “Where is it, where is the God damn case?” The smallest of the two, about 6’2”, 240 pounds, is doing the talking and the big guy, 6’5”, 280 pounds at least, has this pissed off look in his face like “I hope you don’t tell us.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about” he screams back. “That’s the best you can do?” He thinks, “they know I’m lying.” Trying to get a clear thought but realizing everything is happening too quickly, he sees the big guy, Eddie, beginning to tear the place apart, starting with the booth where they had been sitting the evening before. Next, Eddie moves with a relaxed intensity that confirms he has some experience at “shaking down” places. Off to the kitchen for more of the same, this time the dishes and pans are the victims.
Everyone has been dream transported into the kitchen; the place has been totaled in just seconds. Eddie heads for an office just off the side of the kitchen. It’s actually not much more than a closet really with a desk, a phone and a miserably slow lap top. Instantly, the entire office is trashed. Eddie has to turn sideways to fit back out the door.
“Maybe one of my guys found it and took it home for safe keeping?” he pleads. This sounds convincing to himself but Eddie and the smaller guy don’t seem to be buying it. Both guys are aiming what looks like 9 millimeter pistols at him but he has no idea. He’s never fired a gun except for a BB gun as a kid. “Let me call them and see.” He sounded more as if he were begging for his life than asking to use the phone. In reality, they were the same thing.
Eddie goes into the large walk-in freezer and starts the same routine. Food is flying and then, silence. What seemed like minutes were really only 4 or 5 seconds. “Hey Kyle, get in here, check this out,” yells Eddie.
He thinks to himself Kyle? The killers name is Kyle? I am not getting killed by a guy named Kyle, no way. The smaller guy hurries towards him and puts the gun to the top of his back, right below his neck and forces their movement towards the freezer in front of them. He sees a butcher knife on the cutting board just to his right but they would have to move 3 feet out of the way of their current path for it to be reached. He just couldn’t take the chance.
In the back of the freezer, some fifteen feet from the door and on the upper shelf is a box of shellfish that had been shipped in a much darker box than the other food goods. The company does this so their products standout and they can charge more money, at least that’s what he’s told himself over the years.
Kyle tilts his head and tells Eddie “get it down,” but it has been there for awhile and even this monster of a man is having trouble breaking it away from its frozen bond with the metal shelf. Kyle is focused on the box which they must think is the case and moves forward to help his comrade. It is then that he makes his move.
The first step was more of a small shuffle but the second and third were picking up pace. By the fifth step he was at the door moving as fast as possible. He disabled the safety that allows you to open the freezer from the inside as the run to freedom has begun. In reality, the safety is just a latch with a pin on a small metal chain. He had always told Ginger he was going to fix it; thank God he wasn’t good at fixing things. Both Eddie and Kyle saw and heard racket just as the freezer door was slamming shut, their yells were muffled and their words were unidentifiable. What they were saying wasn’t important, not anymore. On his way out from the kitchen he grabbed the butcher knife that had been a gift from the staff celebrating five years in business. It was heavy and expensive. He had seen them advertised in the trade supply magazines that came unsolicited every week in the mail. Reaching the front door, a faint gunshot could be heard from inside the heavy metal box, then another and another. They were shooting at the lock, not leaving much time.
“Oh my God, no!” he screamed, he had left his car keys in his office on the desk and in all of the commotion, they had been left there. Panic had officially set in and like the mad bull he had become, he went out onto the quiet street looking to create some separation from the now chilly gunmen. It was still early Sunday morning and not many people were out and about yet. There was one car at a traffic light about 100 yards away. Running in the dream took forever then in an actual flash, he was at the SUV screaming at the driver to open the door or for her do get out, “get the fuck out,” that was it… he thinks.
His subconscious couldn’t handle the murder again, the shower had rinsed away the physical memory of the killing but there wasn’t enough water in the world to get the mental picture of what had happened out of his mind. Willing himself awake, he was out of breath, shaking from fear and soaking wet. Not wet from the shower but from the dream. It took a few minutes to pull himself together. Reaching for the cooler; it was time for a beer but they were warm, there hadn’t been any time to put ice in the damn thing. Nobody likes warm beer.
He went back in the shower, this time turning the temperature down as cold as he could stand it. It was dark outside but warm in the room and he wanted to wake up as fast as possible. A quick glance at his watch told him he had slept for… the watch wasn’t working. He looked at the small alarm clock in his room but it was flashing 12:00. Neither of these things had been noticed when he walked into the room. He had no idea what time it really was.
This time he toweled off and got dressed in the same clothes, “why didn’t I bring any thing to change into?” he said again out loud. He reached under the bed and retrieved the case. Opening it, the green seemed as brilliant as emeralds. It was heavier than he remembered and that was a lot of cash. There were 350 bundles of $10,000.00 in $100.00 bills. He checked the bills again to see if the numbers were in any kind of order but they weren’t. He also checked to see if they were marked but he had no idea what that kind of a mark would look like. Were they really going to put a red X on every corner of every bill? He would have to check into that; more out of curiosity than necessity.
He took the envelope out of the case and held it in his hands. It had markings like tear drops stenciled over the seal but he couldn’t tell for sure. They looked familiar from somewhere but he just couldn’t place it. He turned his attention back to the seam and opened the letter carefully. Looking at the writing, it was obvious that the person who had written this looked as if they had gone to Catholic schools all of their life. The penmanship was perfect.
He had to read this again.
End Chapter 2
Epitaph
Chapter 2
He could see the California / Nevada border about 25 miles ahead. The City of Primm Nevada consists of two truck stops, 4 fast-food restaurants, two rundown hotel casinos, a factory outlet shopping center and the tallest roller coaster in the World. At least it was the tallest at one time. Then another 45 miles ahead of him was Sin City.
There isn’t a lot to look at between Primm and Vegas but there was a small sign indicating gas station at the next turn off. This was his chance. He pulled off the 15 and headed for the filling station, it looked deserted but he thought there looked to be some kind of movement inside the convenience store. He pulled around back to see if he could find a bathroom to rinse away the guilt he was wearing like a crusty coating of hard black tar. There was only an out-house. Off by a shed in the corner of the lot looked to be a hose on a pole sticking out of the dusty ground and he knew this was his “spa de jour.”
The water was ice cold and must have been coming from a very deep well. The briskness of the water was energizing. Walking inside the store dripping wet but clean generated just a bit of a second glance from the clerk for his appearance. The only purchases available and desperately needed were a loud tourist shirt that was too short at the waist, a cheesy hat like somebody’s grandfather might wear fishing, a microwave bean and cheese burrito and a Mountain Dew for the caffeine. Not a bad selection really considering the remoteness of the store’s location. After filling up the tank of the MG, the car sped off and the driver was feeling slightly better about his appearance.
There are over 150,000 hotel / motel rooms in Las Vegas so ones options are far from limited. Driving past the strip and just beyond the other side of old downtown Vegas, there is a string of cheap or “budget” motels as the owners would want them called. A credit card still wasn’t an option so finding a place that would prefer to deal in cash was a key component for lodging for the night. That wasn’t going to be a problem from the outer appearances of these shit holes. The sign on the building said “Cable TV, $29.00 per night.” The run down building was a faded, light green color with white trim. The pool had been filled in with dirt years ago and was growing a variety of weeds that don’t take much water to survive. This was the place.
He went to the desk and rang the bell. It looked like a 1950’s movie set but with a smell of old fast food. An elderly, heavy set man in a wife beater T-shirt that said “Zeppelin,” came out from the back and they negotiated a rate of $200.00 for the week, strictly a cash transaction done with a smile. The registration card was signed “Ron Cey” as he loved the LA Dodgers of the 70’s. Cey played from 1971 to 1982 and was nicknamed the Penguin for his short legs and the way he waddled as he ran. The clerk didn’t care what name was put down; nobody ever gave their real names at his kind of place.
The parking lot was empty and the place may have only had one or two tenants for the night, there looked to be about 15 rooms total in the entire complex. A spot was chosen about 8 spaces down from his assigned door. Parking was available right in front of the room but he was still better off playing it safe. Walking to the room, all of his belongings could be carried in one hand. The cooler was brought, keys and yes, his newest possession, a large, dark brown, leather briefcase with four stubby, brass legs about a half in long on each corner. Looking at the door, he realized his room number was the same Cey had worn on his jersey, 10.
Once inside, the case was stowed under the sagging bed and he striped down naked for a shower. After just a few seconds, the water got hot. Stepping into the shower, the water had to be readjusted so the temperature cooled enough that the flesh wouldn’t burn. A full bottle of hotel shampoo and half a bar of soap later, he stepped out of the bathroom and lay wet on top of the bed to air dry and sleep. Food was needed but the body was demanding a deposit in the old sleep bank.
Screaming, arguing, guns; he was dreaming again. This time, the setting was back at Lucci’s and someone was screaming. This was before the run for safety had started; this was the first moment of confrontation.
Two guys in suits are screaming, pointing guns at him, “Where is it, where is the God damn case?” The smallest of the two, about 6’2”, 240 pounds, is doing the talking and the big guy, 6’5”, 280 pounds at least, has this pissed off look in his face like “I hope you don’t tell us.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about” he screams back. “That’s the best you can do?” He thinks, “they know I’m lying.” Trying to get a clear thought but realizing everything is happening too quickly, he sees the big guy, Eddie, beginning to tear the place apart, starting with the booth where they had been sitting the evening before. Next, Eddie moves with a relaxed intensity that confirms he has some experience at “shaking down” places. Off to the kitchen for more of the same, this time the dishes and pans are the victims.
Everyone has been dream transported into the kitchen; the place has been totaled in just seconds. Eddie heads for an office just off the side of the kitchen. It’s actually not much more than a closet really with a desk, a phone and a miserably slow lap top. Instantly, the entire office is trashed. Eddie has to turn sideways to fit back out the door.
“Maybe one of my guys found it and took it home for safe keeping?” he pleads. This sounds convincing to himself but Eddie and the smaller guy don’t seem to be buying it. Both guys are aiming what looks like 9 millimeter pistols at him but he has no idea. He’s never fired a gun except for a BB gun as a kid. “Let me call them and see.” He sounded more as if he were begging for his life than asking to use the phone. In reality, they were the same thing.
Eddie goes into the large walk-in freezer and starts the same routine. Food is flying and then, silence. What seemed like minutes were really only 4 or 5 seconds. “Hey Kyle, get in here, check this out,” yells Eddie.
He thinks to himself Kyle? The killers name is Kyle? I am not getting killed by a guy named Kyle, no way. The smaller guy hurries towards him and puts the gun to the top of his back, right below his neck and forces their movement towards the freezer in front of them. He sees a butcher knife on the cutting board just to his right but they would have to move 3 feet out of the way of their current path for it to be reached. He just couldn’t take the chance.
In the back of the freezer, some fifteen feet from the door and on the upper shelf is a box of shellfish that had been shipped in a much darker box than the other food goods. The company does this so their products standout and they can charge more money, at least that’s what he’s told himself over the years.
Kyle tilts his head and tells Eddie “get it down,” but it has been there for awhile and even this monster of a man is having trouble breaking it away from its frozen bond with the metal shelf. Kyle is focused on the box which they must think is the case and moves forward to help his comrade. It is then that he makes his move.
The first step was more of a small shuffle but the second and third were picking up pace. By the fifth step he was at the door moving as fast as possible. He disabled the safety that allows you to open the freezer from the inside as the run to freedom has begun. In reality, the safety is just a latch with a pin on a small metal chain. He had always told Ginger he was going to fix it; thank God he wasn’t good at fixing things. Both Eddie and Kyle saw and heard racket just as the freezer door was slamming shut, their yells were muffled and their words were unidentifiable. What they were saying wasn’t important, not anymore. On his way out from the kitchen he grabbed the butcher knife that had been a gift from the staff celebrating five years in business. It was heavy and expensive. He had seen them advertised in the trade supply magazines that came unsolicited every week in the mail. Reaching the front door, a faint gunshot could be heard from inside the heavy metal box, then another and another. They were shooting at the lock, not leaving much time.
“Oh my God, no!” he screamed, he had left his car keys in his office on the desk and in all of the commotion, they had been left there. Panic had officially set in and like the mad bull he had become, he went out onto the quiet street looking to create some separation from the now chilly gunmen. It was still early Sunday morning and not many people were out and about yet. There was one car at a traffic light about 100 yards away. Running in the dream took forever then in an actual flash, he was at the SUV screaming at the driver to open the door or for her do get out, “get the fuck out,” that was it… he thinks.
His subconscious couldn’t handle the murder again, the shower had rinsed away the physical memory of the killing but there wasn’t enough water in the world to get the mental picture of what had happened out of his mind. Willing himself awake, he was out of breath, shaking from fear and soaking wet. Not wet from the shower but from the dream. It took a few minutes to pull himself together. Reaching for the cooler; it was time for a beer but they were warm, there hadn’t been any time to put ice in the damn thing. Nobody likes warm beer.
He went back in the shower, this time turning the temperature down as cold as he could stand it. It was dark outside but warm in the room and he wanted to wake up as fast as possible. A quick glance at his watch told him he had slept for… the watch wasn’t working. He looked at the small alarm clock in his room but it was flashing 12:00. Neither of these things had been noticed when he walked into the room. He had no idea what time it really was.
This time he toweled off and got dressed in the same clothes, “why didn’t I bring any thing to change into?” he said again out loud. He reached under the bed and retrieved the case. Opening it, the green seemed as brilliant as emeralds. It was heavier than he remembered and that was a lot of cash. There were 350 bundles of $10,000.00 in $100.00 bills. He checked the bills again to see if the numbers were in any kind of order but they weren’t. He also checked to see if they were marked but he had no idea what that kind of a mark would look like. Were they really going to put a red X on every corner of every bill? He would have to check into that; more out of curiosity than necessity.
He took the envelope out of the case and held it in his hands. It had markings like tear drops stenciled over the seal but he couldn’t tell for sure. They looked familiar from somewhere but he just couldn’t place it. He turned his attention back to the seam and opened the letter carefully. Looking at the writing, it was obvious that the person who had written this looked as if they had gone to Catholic schools all of their life. The penmanship was perfect.
He had to read this again.
End Chapter 2
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Troy on Troy - Epitaph, a Novel
Troy on Troy - Epitaph, a Novel
Epitaph
Chapter 1
Fighting off fear was easy compared to the intense desire to shut his eyes. He tried telling himself, "just for a few seconds." Thump, thump, thump, thump, the yellow lane dividers jolted him back awake but his eye lids were so very heavy. The road is black but the night is darker. "Aren't the stars supposed to get brighter the farther you get from the lights of the city?" He talks to himself to try and fight off the sleep but he knows that it’s pointless. That last sleep came 40 hours ago.
He can't afford to get a motel room, not because of the money; there’s a briefcase full of it in the trunk. It's the people after him. Surely that's how they would catch him. “It's the slip ups that get people killed,” he knew this from the books he read. He loves a good mystery. Finally giving in to his body, he pulls over to the side of the road where there is an underpass. The I15 has a lot of these between LA and Las Vegas. He thinks they’re for floods or something but it has to be safe in September. It hasn't rained in this area in months. The underpass provides shelter from the people after him.
His mind races from image to image as the sleep is coming but he can't calm his mind. He cracks his window and pulls another water from his cooler. He would rather have a beer but he has to keep his head as sharp as possible. There are so many things that need to happen if he is going to be able to try and keep both the money and his life. Three point five million dollars. That thought brings the first smile to his face in days. "If you’re going to run, make it worth your while," he again says aloud as if speaking verses thinking makes everything better. He looks in the rear view mirror to check for damage, just a small cut on the cheek below his right eye. But he can feel the dried blood on his neck and back. It has long since dried and has turned hard and itches. That would be bad enough, but it's worse, it's not his blood.
His last thought of the day before crashing into sleep lulls him back to when his world was normal. That world is gone forever and he knows it. A foggy black and white haze like that of a silent movie flickers thru his half awake mind and he is suddenly back in his bed. His dog and “waitress of the day” lay all clumped together under a quilt picked out by his daughter. He misses his dog.
He never dreams when he sleeps but now, the complete exhaustion opens like flood gates and he is back at the beginning, at least to the beginning of this part; the bad part.
“Fuck you, get out of the car.” He is the man with the knife and he is the one pulling at the door handle and screaming at the random woman in the car. She freezes from the terror of what is happening. Bad timing, being at the wrong place, etc. We have all heard it before but this time it couldn’t be truer. She just stares back up at him like the insane maniac he has become. It isn't his fault as this is survival but in reality, it’s all his fault. His decisions and actions have caused this very moment. “I’m not going to hurt you, I just need the car, get the fuck out!”
The window shatters but not from his fists or the butt of the butcher knife in his hand from the restaurant but from the bastard shooting at him. She’s dead. Just like that, her life is over. The driver of the car was dead from the first shot. If she would have just given him the car she could have gone on with her day, he really just wanted the car; needed the car.
The shot sounded far off but even he could tell from the way the glass exploded that his hunter was closer than he wanted.
He reached in from the now empty window and hit the electronic switch, he pulls at the handle and opens the car door and yanks the dead woman from the car. She is heavier than she looks and her body is limp. “I’m sorry but fuck, why didn’t you get out of the car?” he mumbles to himself. He tosses her to the pavement, jumps in the car and hits the accelerator. Shots ring out after him as he flees, so he drives hunched over just to be safe like he has seen "them" do in the movies.
There is blood everywhere but he’s not hit. He does a quick check by running his hands all over his body and nothing, the blood is hers.
How did they know he was there? Nobody knew except for Sadie, his three year old Australian Shepard. Only she knew that he was coming in on Sunday when they were closed. It was the first time that he had actually ever stepped foot inside in the damn place on a Sunday since they had bought it. Sadie was the only living thing he had told about finding the briefcase and the letter. If those sons-of-bitches knew it was him that had the case then surely they knew where he lived.
He decides to do a drive by so he won’t look suspicious. He pulls into the track of homes where he lives, makes the turn on his street and remembers he’s covered in blood in a car with a shot out window, “freaking brilliant… idiot “ He has always been his own toughest critic.
Driving by, the house looks normal, shutters closed, door is closed, nothing seemed out of place. He turns the dead woman’s car around and parks across the street facing the wrong way. He hid a key for his daughter on the side of the house in case he was away when she wanted to come home on the weekends from college. It’s under a pot, not very creative. It’s actually very safe because if Sadie didn’t know you, all hell would break out as soon as you rattled the gate. Sadie started in but once she saw it was him, the tail started wagging, the key was his for the taking.
Once inside the house, he moved fast. He went upstairs and grabbed the case; it was right where he had left it. “Think, think, think, c’mon jackass think!” He grabbed an ice chest and threw in some beer, water and apples. He got his phone charger and a few pictures. He needed the pictures because he knew live or die, he was never coming back.
He threw everything in the car and started to get in and then stopped. His every movement just stopped. “Sadie.” She had followed him everywhere in the house and he didn’t realize he had been talking to her the whole time. He always talked to her so this wasn’t unusual. He went back inside and she was sitting just on the other side of the door looking at him… she knew something was wrong from the way he was acting and the smell of the blood he was covered in. He knew he couldn’t take her with him. This was their last time together; their goodbye had to happen quickly. He had already spent too much time there. He opened the garage door and called for her. She came instantly as always and he led her to the next door neighbor’s house. Without saying a word, he opened their side gate and told her to go in. Again, no hesitation. He shut the gate and she was gone.
Sadness overwhelmed him. Sadie was his only friend since his wife Ginger had died. If Ginger had been alive, she would have made him turn the briefcase into the police when he found it at their restaurant. None of this would be happening. He didn’t have time for a change of heart, not now…he was in too deep.
He started the car and backed out. It was his wife’s MG and he hadn’t driven it since she passed. He left it right where she had parked it. Like most of her belongings, he left as much as he could in exactly the same places where she had put them as if she wasn’t gone, he just couldn’t say goodbye. But that was all over now, he was driving in her car, away from her things and his dog and the house and “What the hell was I thinking?”
As soon as he had taken the briefcase from under the table in the corner where Marco and his “associates” sat every Tuesday night, he knew his life would never be the same. Every Tuesday they would come and have the veal picatta which everyone thought was the best they ever had. They weren’t subtle about who they were or what they did for work. He and his wife had owned Lucci’s, an Italian restaurant, for six years and he had personally been their server of choice for most of that time. They had always tipped way too much; he figured that was to buy his silence from the conversations he had overheard. And he had heard some big stories. Drugs, murders, you name it, they had claimed it. Part of him believed them but part of him thought that they were just big talkers.
The last Tuesday night they were there, last night, they had been drinking heavily celebrating something big. They threw hundreds at him like they were nickels and had him keep the place open much later than normal so they could keep partying. They just left it there under the table, a briefcase full of cash, what was he supposed to do? Almost like it was a test of some kind. He failed miserably.
He drove south from Seattle in her car because he was afraid to use a credit card for a rental. They had to be smart enough to check for those kinds of things. When he got to LA, he changed his mind, “screw Mexico, cash is King in Vegas,” so east on the I15 it was. He could disappear into the crowds for awhile and then take his pick of his next destination. A tropical beach, swaying palm trees; maybe even Europe. He and his wife had always talked of seeing the statues and fountains throughout Europe but it was just talk. They both new they could never afford a trip like that, but with the booty he had in the trunk, that was no longer an issue.
Forty hours later he was sleeping under a bridge with 3.5 million dollars of a drug dealer’s cash in a briefcase in his dead wife’s trunk.
He woke up hot, thirsty and disoriented. His back was killing him and the heat, "Oh my God the heat." It was 11:00 am and already the temperature was well over 100 degrees. He did the math and realized he had been out for about five hours but he was alive. He had survived the first 48 hours of a nightmare that had left at least 1 person dead.
He reached over to his cooler and pulled out the last bottle of water and an apple. What he wanted was the beer, but there would be plenty of time for that if he just didn’t panic. He craved a shower; he had to get the blood off somehow and soon. He couldn’t get a room or a meal looking like a survivor of a train wreck. Time to move.
End, chapter 1
Epitaph
Chapter 1
Fighting off fear was easy compared to the intense desire to shut his eyes. He tried telling himself, "just for a few seconds." Thump, thump, thump, thump, the yellow lane dividers jolted him back awake but his eye lids were so very heavy. The road is black but the night is darker. "Aren't the stars supposed to get brighter the farther you get from the lights of the city?" He talks to himself to try and fight off the sleep but he knows that it’s pointless. That last sleep came 40 hours ago.
He can't afford to get a motel room, not because of the money; there’s a briefcase full of it in the trunk. It's the people after him. Surely that's how they would catch him. “It's the slip ups that get people killed,” he knew this from the books he read. He loves a good mystery. Finally giving in to his body, he pulls over to the side of the road where there is an underpass. The I15 has a lot of these between LA and Las Vegas. He thinks they’re for floods or something but it has to be safe in September. It hasn't rained in this area in months. The underpass provides shelter from the people after him.
His mind races from image to image as the sleep is coming but he can't calm his mind. He cracks his window and pulls another water from his cooler. He would rather have a beer but he has to keep his head as sharp as possible. There are so many things that need to happen if he is going to be able to try and keep both the money and his life. Three point five million dollars. That thought brings the first smile to his face in days. "If you’re going to run, make it worth your while," he again says aloud as if speaking verses thinking makes everything better. He looks in the rear view mirror to check for damage, just a small cut on the cheek below his right eye. But he can feel the dried blood on his neck and back. It has long since dried and has turned hard and itches. That would be bad enough, but it's worse, it's not his blood.
His last thought of the day before crashing into sleep lulls him back to when his world was normal. That world is gone forever and he knows it. A foggy black and white haze like that of a silent movie flickers thru his half awake mind and he is suddenly back in his bed. His dog and “waitress of the day” lay all clumped together under a quilt picked out by his daughter. He misses his dog.
He never dreams when he sleeps but now, the complete exhaustion opens like flood gates and he is back at the beginning, at least to the beginning of this part; the bad part.
“Fuck you, get out of the car.” He is the man with the knife and he is the one pulling at the door handle and screaming at the random woman in the car. She freezes from the terror of what is happening. Bad timing, being at the wrong place, etc. We have all heard it before but this time it couldn’t be truer. She just stares back up at him like the insane maniac he has become. It isn't his fault as this is survival but in reality, it’s all his fault. His decisions and actions have caused this very moment. “I’m not going to hurt you, I just need the car, get the fuck out!”
The window shatters but not from his fists or the butt of the butcher knife in his hand from the restaurant but from the bastard shooting at him. She’s dead. Just like that, her life is over. The driver of the car was dead from the first shot. If she would have just given him the car she could have gone on with her day, he really just wanted the car; needed the car.
The shot sounded far off but even he could tell from the way the glass exploded that his hunter was closer than he wanted.
He reached in from the now empty window and hit the electronic switch, he pulls at the handle and opens the car door and yanks the dead woman from the car. She is heavier than she looks and her body is limp. “I’m sorry but fuck, why didn’t you get out of the car?” he mumbles to himself. He tosses her to the pavement, jumps in the car and hits the accelerator. Shots ring out after him as he flees, so he drives hunched over just to be safe like he has seen "them" do in the movies.
There is blood everywhere but he’s not hit. He does a quick check by running his hands all over his body and nothing, the blood is hers.
How did they know he was there? Nobody knew except for Sadie, his three year old Australian Shepard. Only she knew that he was coming in on Sunday when they were closed. It was the first time that he had actually ever stepped foot inside in the damn place on a Sunday since they had bought it. Sadie was the only living thing he had told about finding the briefcase and the letter. If those sons-of-bitches knew it was him that had the case then surely they knew where he lived.
He decides to do a drive by so he won’t look suspicious. He pulls into the track of homes where he lives, makes the turn on his street and remembers he’s covered in blood in a car with a shot out window, “freaking brilliant… idiot “ He has always been his own toughest critic.
Driving by, the house looks normal, shutters closed, door is closed, nothing seemed out of place. He turns the dead woman’s car around and parks across the street facing the wrong way. He hid a key for his daughter on the side of the house in case he was away when she wanted to come home on the weekends from college. It’s under a pot, not very creative. It’s actually very safe because if Sadie didn’t know you, all hell would break out as soon as you rattled the gate. Sadie started in but once she saw it was him, the tail started wagging, the key was his for the taking.
Once inside the house, he moved fast. He went upstairs and grabbed the case; it was right where he had left it. “Think, think, think, c’mon jackass think!” He grabbed an ice chest and threw in some beer, water and apples. He got his phone charger and a few pictures. He needed the pictures because he knew live or die, he was never coming back.
He threw everything in the car and started to get in and then stopped. His every movement just stopped. “Sadie.” She had followed him everywhere in the house and he didn’t realize he had been talking to her the whole time. He always talked to her so this wasn’t unusual. He went back inside and she was sitting just on the other side of the door looking at him… she knew something was wrong from the way he was acting and the smell of the blood he was covered in. He knew he couldn’t take her with him. This was their last time together; their goodbye had to happen quickly. He had already spent too much time there. He opened the garage door and called for her. She came instantly as always and he led her to the next door neighbor’s house. Without saying a word, he opened their side gate and told her to go in. Again, no hesitation. He shut the gate and she was gone.
Sadness overwhelmed him. Sadie was his only friend since his wife Ginger had died. If Ginger had been alive, she would have made him turn the briefcase into the police when he found it at their restaurant. None of this would be happening. He didn’t have time for a change of heart, not now…he was in too deep.
He started the car and backed out. It was his wife’s MG and he hadn’t driven it since she passed. He left it right where she had parked it. Like most of her belongings, he left as much as he could in exactly the same places where she had put them as if she wasn’t gone, he just couldn’t say goodbye. But that was all over now, he was driving in her car, away from her things and his dog and the house and “What the hell was I thinking?”
As soon as he had taken the briefcase from under the table in the corner where Marco and his “associates” sat every Tuesday night, he knew his life would never be the same. Every Tuesday they would come and have the veal picatta which everyone thought was the best they ever had. They weren’t subtle about who they were or what they did for work. He and his wife had owned Lucci’s, an Italian restaurant, for six years and he had personally been their server of choice for most of that time. They had always tipped way too much; he figured that was to buy his silence from the conversations he had overheard. And he had heard some big stories. Drugs, murders, you name it, they had claimed it. Part of him believed them but part of him thought that they were just big talkers.
The last Tuesday night they were there, last night, they had been drinking heavily celebrating something big. They threw hundreds at him like they were nickels and had him keep the place open much later than normal so they could keep partying. They just left it there under the table, a briefcase full of cash, what was he supposed to do? Almost like it was a test of some kind. He failed miserably.
He drove south from Seattle in her car because he was afraid to use a credit card for a rental. They had to be smart enough to check for those kinds of things. When he got to LA, he changed his mind, “screw Mexico, cash is King in Vegas,” so east on the I15 it was. He could disappear into the crowds for awhile and then take his pick of his next destination. A tropical beach, swaying palm trees; maybe even Europe. He and his wife had always talked of seeing the statues and fountains throughout Europe but it was just talk. They both new they could never afford a trip like that, but with the booty he had in the trunk, that was no longer an issue.
Forty hours later he was sleeping under a bridge with 3.5 million dollars of a drug dealer’s cash in a briefcase in his dead wife’s trunk.
He woke up hot, thirsty and disoriented. His back was killing him and the heat, "Oh my God the heat." It was 11:00 am and already the temperature was well over 100 degrees. He did the math and realized he had been out for about five hours but he was alive. He had survived the first 48 hours of a nightmare that had left at least 1 person dead.
He reached over to his cooler and pulled out the last bottle of water and an apple. What he wanted was the beer, but there would be plenty of time for that if he just didn’t panic. He craved a shower; he had to get the blood off somehow and soon. He couldn’t get a room or a meal looking like a survivor of a train wreck. Time to move.
End, chapter 1
Friday, September 25, 2009
Troy on Troy - Amy's Birthday
Today is my dogs 9th birthday. Happy birthday Amy!
"People who know Rebecca and I know that we love our dog more then most people love their family pets. Some have said we are ridiculous but that's OK. We both know its way over the top but there is something different about Amy. The three of us, what we like to call "our pack," have been through a lot together and I honestly believe adversity creates stronger bonds then successes.
Amy comes from a long line of Champion Yellow Labs and her official name is "Amazing Grace Ann Vision." She was one of 8 females and 1 male from her litter. Two separate Veterinarians and a dog trainer each independently chose her as the pick of the litter. Each puppy had on a different colored collar so they could be identified, hers was black. It was amazing to see them all together because they were so white. She is officially a yellow lab but some are lighter than others, she is very white.
The mother of the puppies, Gracie (Gracious Heart) stayed with Rebecca’s ex when they separated with the understanding that Gracie would be bred and Rebecca would have the first pick of the litter. We were living back in Huntington Beach and Rebecca got a call on her cell phone from a girlfriend that the ex was starting to sell the puppies and we should get right over. We were out the door and racing to where the puppies were living. We were fired up to say the least!
When we arrived, Rebecca went inside the house and I stayed in the car. (I didn’t care for her ex and thought it best to wait outside.) I told her to watch the puppies and be sure that the puppy she picks is comfortable on its back. I had always found that when picking out a cat or holding a puppy that the ones that let you hold them on their backs and exposing their bellies and neck area were the best. About a half hour later, Rebecca comes walking out with this amazing looking puppy and I get out of the car and meet her there in the middle of the street. She hands me Amy and I will never forget what she asked me..."Is this one all right?" I literally get tears in my eyes as I take her. A couple of introductory kisses and I hold her in my lap as we drive off in the car. She was so scared, she cried a little bit and actually lost her bladder on me, and I didn't care. I finally had a yellow lab and she was perfect. Isn't puppy breath the best?
We lived with Amy for a couple of years on Maui, which she loved as you can imagine. You still can't say the combo of words "Baby Beach." You can say beach and she gets excited but "Baby Beach" has a totally different reaction. It is a stretch of beach, just North of Lahaina, about a mile long. Crystal clear water protected by a reef about a quarter mile out. At the deepest, it is maybe 4 feet so you could walk out a really long way and just hang out, which we did often. There are literally no waves or even ripples, just a gentle current that keeps clear warm waters gently moving in and out with the tides.
Here is her perfect morning and something we did at least 5 times a week. We would leave the house with a bottle of water for the dog, three towels and and enough cash to hit the local coffee shack in Napili where we lived. We would sometimes get her one of those fake bagel doggy biscuits, a couple of coffees for the Rebecca and me and head out. About a block away, she starts to panic with excitement because she knows right where we are going. By the time I parked the car, she was actually crying and bouncing from side to side. We would open the door for her and she was off. To get to the beach you walk down a level cement sidewalk for about 50 feet, turn right and continue on the same sidewalk for another 100 feet then from there, the cement ends and you go out onto the sand. Depending on the tide, the water was another 50 feet away. I think her best time from the car to the water was about 2.8 seconds but averaged about 3.5. By the time we came around the corner, she is in the water looking back at us with the biggest grin you have ever seen on a dog.
First things first we would walk from one end to the other. I would pick up a coconut which there would be a hundred or so littered on the beach. That was our Hawaiian tennis ball. We would play fetch on the way down and then all walk in the shallow water all the way back to where we started. This end of the beach has loose coral and lava rocks scattered around the shallows and for what ever reason, this drove her mad. She finds a rock, hikes it between her legs until it is shallow enough to reach without getting her head too far under water. Depending on how long we would stay there, sometimes I would have to throw 50 plus rocks back in to the water before we left.
The morning would come to an end by swimming with her in our pool to get the salt water off of her. She would then drink a ton of water and take her morning nap. Not a bad way to start your day. We took her back to Maui with us in April of last year. She flew first class both ways and has her Hawaii dog passport so she doesn't have to be held up in quarantine. During our month long visit, (only 1 week of it was for actual vacation) we took her back there at least 15 times. The first time back was like she had never left. Same reaction, same walk, same hunting for rocks, she loves that place. One day, my ashes are going to be spread with hers and Rebecca's, right in that corner where we all played together, it is a special place.
So today is her birthday and we are making it special for her... by making it fun for all of us. She started off this morning with an extra generous portion of Kibble. We are going to do an afternoon swim followed by a trip to Home Depot. Finally, we will all be going out for a special dinner at Morton's. Yes, she goes everywhere with us including restaurants. Just put on her service dog jacket and she is allowed on planes, restaurants, Hotels... you name it.
I have tons of other stories like battling a drug dealer’s pit bull on Maui or our times at wineries in Napa. But "it" is just a dog to 99.9% of the population. Never mind she has about a 400 word vocabulary from commands to the things she likes. She even knows some sign language. She is great at agility courses and I think she could have competed in her prime at the jumping contests you see on ESPN.
Yes, we love our Amers and she loves us. It is really a great thing being part of this pack and I hope we are lucky enough to have another nine years with her. I only wish dogs lived longer, much longer. At least our pack will have eternity at Baby Beach. For the record, if dogs aren't allowed in heaven, I'm not going!
Fight On!
Troy
"People who know Rebecca and I know that we love our dog more then most people love their family pets. Some have said we are ridiculous but that's OK. We both know its way over the top but there is something different about Amy. The three of us, what we like to call "our pack," have been through a lot together and I honestly believe adversity creates stronger bonds then successes.
Amy comes from a long line of Champion Yellow Labs and her official name is "Amazing Grace Ann Vision." She was one of 8 females and 1 male from her litter. Two separate Veterinarians and a dog trainer each independently chose her as the pick of the litter. Each puppy had on a different colored collar so they could be identified, hers was black. It was amazing to see them all together because they were so white. She is officially a yellow lab but some are lighter than others, she is very white.
The mother of the puppies, Gracie (Gracious Heart) stayed with Rebecca’s ex when they separated with the understanding that Gracie would be bred and Rebecca would have the first pick of the litter. We were living back in Huntington Beach and Rebecca got a call on her cell phone from a girlfriend that the ex was starting to sell the puppies and we should get right over. We were out the door and racing to where the puppies were living. We were fired up to say the least!
When we arrived, Rebecca went inside the house and I stayed in the car. (I didn’t care for her ex and thought it best to wait outside.) I told her to watch the puppies and be sure that the puppy she picks is comfortable on its back. I had always found that when picking out a cat or holding a puppy that the ones that let you hold them on their backs and exposing their bellies and neck area were the best. About a half hour later, Rebecca comes walking out with this amazing looking puppy and I get out of the car and meet her there in the middle of the street. She hands me Amy and I will never forget what she asked me..."Is this one all right?" I literally get tears in my eyes as I take her. A couple of introductory kisses and I hold her in my lap as we drive off in the car. She was so scared, she cried a little bit and actually lost her bladder on me, and I didn't care. I finally had a yellow lab and she was perfect. Isn't puppy breath the best?
We lived with Amy for a couple of years on Maui, which she loved as you can imagine. You still can't say the combo of words "Baby Beach." You can say beach and she gets excited but "Baby Beach" has a totally different reaction. It is a stretch of beach, just North of Lahaina, about a mile long. Crystal clear water protected by a reef about a quarter mile out. At the deepest, it is maybe 4 feet so you could walk out a really long way and just hang out, which we did often. There are literally no waves or even ripples, just a gentle current that keeps clear warm waters gently moving in and out with the tides.
Here is her perfect morning and something we did at least 5 times a week. We would leave the house with a bottle of water for the dog, three towels and and enough cash to hit the local coffee shack in Napili where we lived. We would sometimes get her one of those fake bagel doggy biscuits, a couple of coffees for the Rebecca and me and head out. About a block away, she starts to panic with excitement because she knows right where we are going. By the time I parked the car, she was actually crying and bouncing from side to side. We would open the door for her and she was off. To get to the beach you walk down a level cement sidewalk for about 50 feet, turn right and continue on the same sidewalk for another 100 feet then from there, the cement ends and you go out onto the sand. Depending on the tide, the water was another 50 feet away. I think her best time from the car to the water was about 2.8 seconds but averaged about 3.5. By the time we came around the corner, she is in the water looking back at us with the biggest grin you have ever seen on a dog.
First things first we would walk from one end to the other. I would pick up a coconut which there would be a hundred or so littered on the beach. That was our Hawaiian tennis ball. We would play fetch on the way down and then all walk in the shallow water all the way back to where we started. This end of the beach has loose coral and lava rocks scattered around the shallows and for what ever reason, this drove her mad. She finds a rock, hikes it between her legs until it is shallow enough to reach without getting her head too far under water. Depending on how long we would stay there, sometimes I would have to throw 50 plus rocks back in to the water before we left.
The morning would come to an end by swimming with her in our pool to get the salt water off of her. She would then drink a ton of water and take her morning nap. Not a bad way to start your day. We took her back to Maui with us in April of last year. She flew first class both ways and has her Hawaii dog passport so she doesn't have to be held up in quarantine. During our month long visit, (only 1 week of it was for actual vacation) we took her back there at least 15 times. The first time back was like she had never left. Same reaction, same walk, same hunting for rocks, she loves that place. One day, my ashes are going to be spread with hers and Rebecca's, right in that corner where we all played together, it is a special place.
So today is her birthday and we are making it special for her... by making it fun for all of us. She started off this morning with an extra generous portion of Kibble. We are going to do an afternoon swim followed by a trip to Home Depot. Finally, we will all be going out for a special dinner at Morton's. Yes, she goes everywhere with us including restaurants. Just put on her service dog jacket and she is allowed on planes, restaurants, Hotels... you name it.
I have tons of other stories like battling a drug dealer’s pit bull on Maui or our times at wineries in Napa. But "it" is just a dog to 99.9% of the population. Never mind she has about a 400 word vocabulary from commands to the things she likes. She even knows some sign language. She is great at agility courses and I think she could have competed in her prime at the jumping contests you see on ESPN.
Yes, we love our Amers and she loves us. It is really a great thing being part of this pack and I hope we are lucky enough to have another nine years with her. I only wish dogs lived longer, much longer. At least our pack will have eternity at Baby Beach. For the record, if dogs aren't allowed in heaven, I'm not going!
Fight On!
Troy
Troy on Troy - My Niece the Reporter
This entry will focus on my view as a conservative on the bias of the left wing Liberal Media. However; instead of rambling on about MSNBC, CNN, and the so-called mainstream media of ABC, CBS and NBC, I am going to personalize this. Let me introduce you to my niece the Journalist.
Danielle Marie Webster - She was born way back when I was in College; February 8, 1984, so that makes her 25 and wow... I can't believe she is already 25. She is the first born of 4 girls. She was raised on a farm in ND by my oldest sister Doreen and my Brother-in-law, Dan. They grow wheat, sunflowers, soy beans, etc. These are the "salt of the earth" people. Family values to the hilt. When we go back for visits, you just can't get over how nice and genuine the people are from this part of the Country.
I remember the night she was born. I went down to a store right off campus and bought a box of 25 Baranger Cigars. You know the fancy ones that come in the metal tube. Not very good but on my budget back then, people were lucky I didn't pass around cigarettes. I also bought a large bottle of tequila and a lot of beer and started celebrating with my fraternity brothers. Now they didn't give a rip why we were partying, for free beer and tequila, they would have celebrated Castro's birthday.
I woke up sometime early in the a.m. the next morning, probably around 10:00am or so. Back then, anytime before noon was early. I will never forget that morning. I was naked, sitting on a couch, empty bottles everywhere and a cigar resting on my shoulder. I had passed out and the damn thing had slowly burned a hole in my arm just above my bicep. It had formed a nice, white blister. I still have the scar today and Danielle will testify that every time I see her, I show her the scar and tell the story.
Let's get some background on her upbringing and try and figure out how she turned leftist!
For the past 3 years, Danielle has been a radio news reporter for Prairie Public Broadcasting, based out of Fargo and serving the entire state of North Dakota. A great position but doing radio is a shame, because she has the face and figure for TV. Future Fox News Babe for sure! As for her other work history, aside from "just making money” jobs (which includes things like car hop waitress, bait shop attendant, telemarketer, or server, etc) she had an unpaid internship during college. It was at the school's television station where she produced news stories as a reporter, and also did “bitch work” (her term, not mine) like running the teleprompter. She was a Communication Major at UND.
She currently lives in Fargo and has lived there for two years. She loves it because it’s just like the movie “Fargo.” She also did a stint up in Grand Forks where she was sentenced to a year during her internship. Her personal interests include the usual like writing, exercise, eating, sleeping, going to movies, concerts, road trips, and any activity having to do with going to the beach or to the lakes, and going out with friends. She also watches an insanely embarrassing amount of television on Lifetime and loves hanging out with her future fiancé, B.J. (Hmmmm???)
Her voting record indicates she is a Democrat. And God bless her, she votes! She voted for both of ND’s Democrat Senators, and the Democrat Congressman, but she claims to also have voted for their Republican Governor. She bloviates about actually having a hell of a time deciding who to vote for as President in this past election saying “I actually may have voted for John McCain had he not chosen Sarah Palin as his running mate. (What does she have against smart, attractive, conservative women?) She continues by adding “and I do believe John McCain should have been President instead of George Bush. But oh well.” I’m not sure we can trust her on that; we’ll have to see how she fares in the bathing suit competition!
She also stated that “I have never gone to a political rally outside of my job. Even as a student (and as a student I was definitely much more on the liberal train) I didn't really like them. I was always hesitant to go so far as to identify myself with a very leaning demographic of people - damn my journalistic training, I guess. But for work I've been to several political events, both Republican and Democrat.”
This next part is very telling and I think she let’s her France loving feelings out of the closet. You decide for yourself here. On her personal feelings towards the political world, she said the following, “If I do blog, it's on my Myspace page. And it's rarely about politics. In fact, I think the last time I blogged "politically" it was because I was ranting about how people on both sides of the spectrum were really pissing me off. I was tired of hearing about how old John McCain is; how dumb Sarah Palin is; what a loud mouth Joe Bidden is and that Barack Obama was going to take away everyone's guns. If politics come up in conversation, I try to stay out of it if it gets too passionate. In fact the more I hear about haters on both sides it really makes me realize that I'm becoming more of a moderate than anything. Especially on the whole health care debate - for example, I think it's ABSURD to go with the public option, but I can't deny that something has to change. I may be fortunate to have health insurance through my employer right now but who's to say that this situation may change for me someday down the road and I become one of those schmucks with catastrophic insurance or something? Even now, I have to go to an income based clinic to get my birth control because it's not covered under my health insurance (but somehow it DOES pay for Viagra?) and I can't afford to get it at a pharmacy for 65 bucks every month on my journalist salary. So yeah - I'm always advocating for people to compromise.” I bet she has a Howard Dean bumper sticker on her Smart Car!
Her dad is a Democrat. His voting record, I am strictly assuming from our many Schnapps-laden politico conversations, is Carter through Obama, "Yes we can!" Doreen is more towards the right. Again, these are my assumptions and since I am not a real reporter, I get to take a few liberties. I know her sister Dana, the second oldest daughter is a Republican. Also, Danielle’s future fiancé B.J. is a red state guy all the way. So she has a mixed background politically from the family side with a hint of lefty coming from Dan.
As far as ND as a state, they are one of the most consistent Republican voting states in the country. Check these facts out.
North Dakota joined the Union in November, 1889. The state has participated in 29 presidential elections, voting Republican in 24 of them. Of the five times it went “blue,” only 1916 (Woodrow Wilson’s second-term victory) was not a landslide for the Democratic candidate. As a result, North Dakota is a very safe state for the Republicans in presidential elections although, oddly, both senators and the one U.S. representative are currently all Democrats. In 2004, George Bush defeated John Kerry by a 63% to 35% margin. The state’s population of about 650,000 has changed little from what it was in 1920. As a result, North Dakota is one of seven states with the minimum three electoral votes. ND voted for McCain in 2008. So the state is conservative.
So what happened here? I had no other choice than to go directly to the source. I gave her an opening statement, asked her 10 questions and then as O'Reilly does on the fair and balanced Fox News Network, I gave her the last word… sort of. Hey, let her get her own Blog.
Here we go:
Question 1 - Who is your favorite Uncle? (Just kidding) On a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being Bill Clinton and 10 being Karl Marx, how Liberal are you?
Answer – “Probably Bill Clinton but no way near Karl Marx.” (By the way, she picked me!)
Question 2 - Why Journalism? You’re smart, good in school, why not get into Medicine or Law where you can make the big bucks?
Answer – “Well, I didn’t get into medicine because I’m not good at math or science and actually, I didn’t get that good of grades. But I have thought about law or graduate school but I haven’t got around to doing it. I picked journalism because I like telling stories.”
Question 3 - I've seen and read your stories and think you are actually a fine journalist. You come across as having little or no opinion and just report the news. I find that refreshing. How are you able to keep your "true feelings" out of the story?
Answer – “Well, I chalk it up to being a green journalist and in school, they really drill being impartial into you. Just the facts. We’ve had people actually call us who have concerns that the story may be biased either way and I really try to avoid that. Plus, I’m so new that I don’t want to burn any bridges or sources.”
Question 4 - As a Country, are we heading in the right direction under Obama, Pelosi and Reid?
Answer – “I am hesitant to say we are moving in the right direction under any administration because at each crossroad, half of the country disagrees with the decisions being made.”
Question 5 - Who do you think is the best journalist, Rachel Maddow, Keith Olbermann, Chris Matthews of Hard Ball or Alan Combs of Fox? (This is a trick question; those hacks are Socialist commentators, not Journalists. Let's see if she catches that.)
Answer – “I don’t think any of them are journalists. People who work at a network, they just show up and talk about what they think. They just spout out their own opinion. Rachel is terrible, she is annoying and actually, I don’t care for any of the talking heads on any network.”
Question 6 - Should we redistribute wealth and how do you feel about our capitalistic system?
Answer – “Wealth I struggle a little bit with because I don’t believe that everyone on welfare is completely lazy but there is no way to tell. It’s just fucked up. I don’t like that question.”
Question 7 - Am I a racist for disagreeing with Obama? Are we a racist Nation?
Answer – “No, you are not racist but I think there are plenty of people in this country that are racist. ND for example, Obama was leading in all the polls but he ended up losing because people couldn’t bring themselves to vote for him. Tough question. I’m not a racist or anyone I know but maybe like 20% to 30% of white people are racist and as far as black people, probably less of them are racist because of what they have had to go through, maybe 10%...I have no idea.”
Question 8 - Do you have an opinion on the health care debate? Do you currently have health insurance?
Answer – “I have coverage from my employer. I think I have job security but if something were to happen, I couldn’t afford it. I am torn on the whole thing because I have covered a lot of town hall meetings and they were actually very polite. A lady had insurance but worked at Blue Cross. She said she had no concern for people that didn’t have coverage. She gets laid off and now she is one of those out there that can’t afford it. Something needs to change; I don’t want government healthcare or the public option.”
Question 9 - What is the leading influence on your political views, why are you like you are?
Answer – “I think I grew up very well informed. Dad is a lib and mom is a conservative. So I had both points of view. Most people I know only heard the conservative side and I think it’s good to hear both sides. I identify myself as a liberal but not totally, I lean a little bit.”
Question 10 - Is there anything I can do to change your mind? Information, a subscription to the Limbaugh Letter or are you fixed in your beliefs? Any wiggle room?
Answer – “I don’t think so…especially the Limbaugh letter. It’s that kind of politics that really turns me off. The ones that are too conservative or too liberal. Also, I don’t want anyone to really know what I think as I don’t want people to think my stories are tainted in any way.”
Danielle’s final thoughts: “The reason why most journalists are liberal is because we don’t make any money! In North Dakota, conservative journalists are limited to just one outlet. There is one guy and he has his own station but he is loaded. I’m hesitant to call all ND journalists liberals but most are. Fox is the 1 conservative network nationally and has a good following here. Across the country, journalists are just broke. I only make enough to pay my bills and by groceries. That’s just the way it is”.
After processing what she has told me, I find that I am torn. I love her very much but don't think it’s entirely that simple. Choosing sides politically isn’t just divided between rich and poor. I personally think it’s institutionalized starting with our schools from K – college and then re-enforced by the media. Academy in general is liberal so by the time these kids get out of college and into the real world, they have been told by their adult role models that conservatives are evil, life isn’t fair, blah blah blah. Then they start working in their chosen field and all of their role models, Rather, Brokaw and Stephanopoulos are major lefties so they adapt to those beliefs. She really never had a chance. My only hope is that she becomes a Fox News Babe. A little cash in her pocket and we’re off like a prom dress. There is a great saying that it’s easy to be a Democrat until you make enough $$$ to start paying taxes.
One thing I did learn is that she isn’t nearly as left as I had thought. She is actually more articulate and well spoken then I had given her credit for and this interview was all done with a hangover…her not me. I am very conservative. I love Rush and Hannity but I think as a country, we should govern closer to the center. I think there is a strong chance if the Republicans can find a person with some spark, Obama may just have 1 term. People are tired and pissed and looking for something in between.
I had a blast doing this and I really want to thank Danielle. I enjoyed spending time with her even if it was only by email and over the phone… and she’s a commie!!!
Fight On!
Troy
Danielle Marie Webster - She was born way back when I was in College; February 8, 1984, so that makes her 25 and wow... I can't believe she is already 25. She is the first born of 4 girls. She was raised on a farm in ND by my oldest sister Doreen and my Brother-in-law, Dan. They grow wheat, sunflowers, soy beans, etc. These are the "salt of the earth" people. Family values to the hilt. When we go back for visits, you just can't get over how nice and genuine the people are from this part of the Country.
I remember the night she was born. I went down to a store right off campus and bought a box of 25 Baranger Cigars. You know the fancy ones that come in the metal tube. Not very good but on my budget back then, people were lucky I didn't pass around cigarettes. I also bought a large bottle of tequila and a lot of beer and started celebrating with my fraternity brothers. Now they didn't give a rip why we were partying, for free beer and tequila, they would have celebrated Castro's birthday.
I woke up sometime early in the a.m. the next morning, probably around 10:00am or so. Back then, anytime before noon was early. I will never forget that morning. I was naked, sitting on a couch, empty bottles everywhere and a cigar resting on my shoulder. I had passed out and the damn thing had slowly burned a hole in my arm just above my bicep. It had formed a nice, white blister. I still have the scar today and Danielle will testify that every time I see her, I show her the scar and tell the story.
Let's get some background on her upbringing and try and figure out how she turned leftist!
For the past 3 years, Danielle has been a radio news reporter for Prairie Public Broadcasting, based out of Fargo and serving the entire state of North Dakota. A great position but doing radio is a shame, because she has the face and figure for TV. Future Fox News Babe for sure! As for her other work history, aside from "just making money” jobs (which includes things like car hop waitress, bait shop attendant, telemarketer, or server, etc) she had an unpaid internship during college. It was at the school's television station where she produced news stories as a reporter, and also did “bitch work” (her term, not mine) like running the teleprompter. She was a Communication Major at UND.
She currently lives in Fargo and has lived there for two years. She loves it because it’s just like the movie “Fargo.” She also did a stint up in Grand Forks where she was sentenced to a year during her internship. Her personal interests include the usual like writing, exercise, eating, sleeping, going to movies, concerts, road trips, and any activity having to do with going to the beach or to the lakes, and going out with friends. She also watches an insanely embarrassing amount of television on Lifetime and loves hanging out with her future fiancé, B.J. (Hmmmm???)
Her voting record indicates she is a Democrat. And God bless her, she votes! She voted for both of ND’s Democrat Senators, and the Democrat Congressman, but she claims to also have voted for their Republican Governor. She bloviates about actually having a hell of a time deciding who to vote for as President in this past election saying “I actually may have voted for John McCain had he not chosen Sarah Palin as his running mate. (What does she have against smart, attractive, conservative women?) She continues by adding “and I do believe John McCain should have been President instead of George Bush. But oh well.” I’m not sure we can trust her on that; we’ll have to see how she fares in the bathing suit competition!
She also stated that “I have never gone to a political rally outside of my job. Even as a student (and as a student I was definitely much more on the liberal train) I didn't really like them. I was always hesitant to go so far as to identify myself with a very leaning demographic of people - damn my journalistic training, I guess. But for work I've been to several political events, both Republican and Democrat.”
This next part is very telling and I think she let’s her France loving feelings out of the closet. You decide for yourself here. On her personal feelings towards the political world, she said the following, “If I do blog, it's on my Myspace page. And it's rarely about politics. In fact, I think the last time I blogged "politically" it was because I was ranting about how people on both sides of the spectrum were really pissing me off. I was tired of hearing about how old John McCain is; how dumb Sarah Palin is; what a loud mouth Joe Bidden is and that Barack Obama was going to take away everyone's guns. If politics come up in conversation, I try to stay out of it if it gets too passionate. In fact the more I hear about haters on both sides it really makes me realize that I'm becoming more of a moderate than anything. Especially on the whole health care debate - for example, I think it's ABSURD to go with the public option, but I can't deny that something has to change. I may be fortunate to have health insurance through my employer right now but who's to say that this situation may change for me someday down the road and I become one of those schmucks with catastrophic insurance or something? Even now, I have to go to an income based clinic to get my birth control because it's not covered under my health insurance (but somehow it DOES pay for Viagra?) and I can't afford to get it at a pharmacy for 65 bucks every month on my journalist salary. So yeah - I'm always advocating for people to compromise.” I bet she has a Howard Dean bumper sticker on her Smart Car!
Her dad is a Democrat. His voting record, I am strictly assuming from our many Schnapps-laden politico conversations, is Carter through Obama, "Yes we can!" Doreen is more towards the right. Again, these are my assumptions and since I am not a real reporter, I get to take a few liberties. I know her sister Dana, the second oldest daughter is a Republican. Also, Danielle’s future fiancé B.J. is a red state guy all the way. So she has a mixed background politically from the family side with a hint of lefty coming from Dan.
As far as ND as a state, they are one of the most consistent Republican voting states in the country. Check these facts out.
North Dakota joined the Union in November, 1889. The state has participated in 29 presidential elections, voting Republican in 24 of them. Of the five times it went “blue,” only 1916 (Woodrow Wilson’s second-term victory) was not a landslide for the Democratic candidate. As a result, North Dakota is a very safe state for the Republicans in presidential elections although, oddly, both senators and the one U.S. representative are currently all Democrats. In 2004, George Bush defeated John Kerry by a 63% to 35% margin. The state’s population of about 650,000 has changed little from what it was in 1920. As a result, North Dakota is one of seven states with the minimum three electoral votes. ND voted for McCain in 2008. So the state is conservative.
So what happened here? I had no other choice than to go directly to the source. I gave her an opening statement, asked her 10 questions and then as O'Reilly does on the fair and balanced Fox News Network, I gave her the last word… sort of. Hey, let her get her own Blog.
Here we go:
Question 1 - Who is your favorite Uncle? (Just kidding) On a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being Bill Clinton and 10 being Karl Marx, how Liberal are you?
Answer – “Probably Bill Clinton but no way near Karl Marx.” (By the way, she picked me!)
Question 2 - Why Journalism? You’re smart, good in school, why not get into Medicine or Law where you can make the big bucks?
Answer – “Well, I didn’t get into medicine because I’m not good at math or science and actually, I didn’t get that good of grades. But I have thought about law or graduate school but I haven’t got around to doing it. I picked journalism because I like telling stories.”
Question 3 - I've seen and read your stories and think you are actually a fine journalist. You come across as having little or no opinion and just report the news. I find that refreshing. How are you able to keep your "true feelings" out of the story?
Answer – “Well, I chalk it up to being a green journalist and in school, they really drill being impartial into you. Just the facts. We’ve had people actually call us who have concerns that the story may be biased either way and I really try to avoid that. Plus, I’m so new that I don’t want to burn any bridges or sources.”
Question 4 - As a Country, are we heading in the right direction under Obama, Pelosi and Reid?
Answer – “I am hesitant to say we are moving in the right direction under any administration because at each crossroad, half of the country disagrees with the decisions being made.”
Question 5 - Who do you think is the best journalist, Rachel Maddow, Keith Olbermann, Chris Matthews of Hard Ball or Alan Combs of Fox? (This is a trick question; those hacks are Socialist commentators, not Journalists. Let's see if she catches that.)
Answer – “I don’t think any of them are journalists. People who work at a network, they just show up and talk about what they think. They just spout out their own opinion. Rachel is terrible, she is annoying and actually, I don’t care for any of the talking heads on any network.”
Question 6 - Should we redistribute wealth and how do you feel about our capitalistic system?
Answer – “Wealth I struggle a little bit with because I don’t believe that everyone on welfare is completely lazy but there is no way to tell. It’s just fucked up. I don’t like that question.”
Question 7 - Am I a racist for disagreeing with Obama? Are we a racist Nation?
Answer – “No, you are not racist but I think there are plenty of people in this country that are racist. ND for example, Obama was leading in all the polls but he ended up losing because people couldn’t bring themselves to vote for him. Tough question. I’m not a racist or anyone I know but maybe like 20% to 30% of white people are racist and as far as black people, probably less of them are racist because of what they have had to go through, maybe 10%...I have no idea.”
Question 8 - Do you have an opinion on the health care debate? Do you currently have health insurance?
Answer – “I have coverage from my employer. I think I have job security but if something were to happen, I couldn’t afford it. I am torn on the whole thing because I have covered a lot of town hall meetings and they were actually very polite. A lady had insurance but worked at Blue Cross. She said she had no concern for people that didn’t have coverage. She gets laid off and now she is one of those out there that can’t afford it. Something needs to change; I don’t want government healthcare or the public option.”
Question 9 - What is the leading influence on your political views, why are you like you are?
Answer – “I think I grew up very well informed. Dad is a lib and mom is a conservative. So I had both points of view. Most people I know only heard the conservative side and I think it’s good to hear both sides. I identify myself as a liberal but not totally, I lean a little bit.”
Question 10 - Is there anything I can do to change your mind? Information, a subscription to the Limbaugh Letter or are you fixed in your beliefs? Any wiggle room?
Answer – “I don’t think so…especially the Limbaugh letter. It’s that kind of politics that really turns me off. The ones that are too conservative or too liberal. Also, I don’t want anyone to really know what I think as I don’t want people to think my stories are tainted in any way.”
Danielle’s final thoughts: “The reason why most journalists are liberal is because we don’t make any money! In North Dakota, conservative journalists are limited to just one outlet. There is one guy and he has his own station but he is loaded. I’m hesitant to call all ND journalists liberals but most are. Fox is the 1 conservative network nationally and has a good following here. Across the country, journalists are just broke. I only make enough to pay my bills and by groceries. That’s just the way it is”.
After processing what she has told me, I find that I am torn. I love her very much but don't think it’s entirely that simple. Choosing sides politically isn’t just divided between rich and poor. I personally think it’s institutionalized starting with our schools from K – college and then re-enforced by the media. Academy in general is liberal so by the time these kids get out of college and into the real world, they have been told by their adult role models that conservatives are evil, life isn’t fair, blah blah blah. Then they start working in their chosen field and all of their role models, Rather, Brokaw and Stephanopoulos are major lefties so they adapt to those beliefs. She really never had a chance. My only hope is that she becomes a Fox News Babe. A little cash in her pocket and we’re off like a prom dress. There is a great saying that it’s easy to be a Democrat until you make enough $$$ to start paying taxes.
One thing I did learn is that she isn’t nearly as left as I had thought. She is actually more articulate and well spoken then I had given her credit for and this interview was all done with a hangover…her not me. I am very conservative. I love Rush and Hannity but I think as a country, we should govern closer to the center. I think there is a strong chance if the Republicans can find a person with some spark, Obama may just have 1 term. People are tired and pissed and looking for something in between.
I had a blast doing this and I really want to thank Danielle. I enjoyed spending time with her even if it was only by email and over the phone… and she’s a commie!!!
Fight On!
Troy
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Troy on Troy - Family Time
My wife Rebecca and I entertained our daughter Jennifer, our future son-in-law Lance and our 1 year old grand-daughter, June, last night for dinner and a swim in the pool. As I mentioned before, I love cooking for others and like trying new things. The challenge for me is leaving my comfort zone of grilling, steaming and baking and venturing to the stove top for sauces and a pan. I don't even like the sound of that word, "pan." Seriously, say it out loud about three times and really hit the P, then try it again and drag out the A. Now pop the N. You should do this while you're alone.
The problem with cooking in a pan vs the BBQ is the oil or grease left over from the meats. Now if you are going to be making a reduction or even a gravy, stove top is the only way to go. Seriously, would you rather have a pan-fried steak or grilled? That's what I thought.
So when the kids come over, (I know they are not kids) we always like to have a nice dinner. Steaks, Carpaccio, ribs, home-made macaroni and cheese, great wines... the whole deal. I always go to Jensen's Market which is farther away than Pavilions and the other markets but it is worth it. I have a great relationship with my butcher, Pete, and I can't recommend enough that you get to know the person who handles your meat. Seriously, better cuts and they let you know what is the most fresh. I even gave him a USC sweatshirt last year for Christmas, he seems to be a Trojan fan. Most times I have no idea what I am going to buy until I see it. This time, pork cutlets caught my eye; plus they were on special. They were very lean and pounded out thin, they looked really good and I wanted something different. I also picked up a bunch of asparagus, some pre-made twice baked potatoes and a fresh loaf of Peasant's bread.
There was a recipe I found in foodie journal for a Lemon Butter Caper Sauce (all recipes available upon request, including the mac and cheese) and that sounded like a great way to prepare the meat but that meant the freakin pan's were going to have to come out from where they are stowed. You can't grow unless you get away from your comfort zone, right?
The kids show up right on time and the rock star (June) is on tonight. Great mood, big smile and as soon as she sees Papa Troy, the legs start kicking, giggles and coos, a perfect greeting. Rebecca and I fight over her attention for about 5 minutes and then I get a whiff of something and I'm done. I don't mention that I smelled anything but just casually pass her to Lance or Jen or someone who has actually changed a diaper. That is a true statement. I have never changed a diaper in my life. You see, Jen is Rebecca's daughter and I have only known her for 10 of her 27 years. I love her as if she were my own and even have the honor of giving her away at her wedding on November 22. I decided early on that I was a better Uncle and didn't have the patience to be a parent so I "fixed" the situation before things could have gone another direction. And I still get grand-kids!!! Way to go Lance and Jen!
Lance and I hit the pool and we have June in her swimmer diapers and man does this kid love the pool. I start playing Peek-a-boo (sp) and she can't get enough. Laughing out loud, kicking and waving her arms, she can have anything she wants whenever she wants it. Amy, our 9 year old yellow lab is jealous of June so of course she is in the pool too, begging for my tequila and orange juice. ("Gold Driver" recipe provided upon request.) She loves tequila and swimming; that's my girl!
After a half hour or so, it's time to go inside and get crack'in on the killer grinds. I have the meat out so that it gets to room temperature prior to cooking. This is a must, even with chicken. For even cooking and to keep the moistness in, take all meats out at least 1 hour prior to cooking. Spice with salt, pepper and garlic powder and cover. This 1 step will greatly improve the flavor and texture of your meat and meals instantly. Depending on the meat and how you are cooking, the rule is lighter amounts of spice for lighter colors of meat. Less on chicken, more on beef.
The recipe calls for minced garlic and dried parsley. Here is another tip, get fresh herbs. They are just as easy to cook with but add texture and flavor. So I pre-cut and get everything out and ready to go. I have two pans on the stove top, 1 for the meat and 1 for the sauce. Timing is everything so I am screwed here. Never done stove top pork cutlets and never have made this sauce. Jen and Rebecca are still lost in wedding talk and Lance is with the baby and me in and around the kitchen. Amy is my Siou Chef and as always, right under my feet in case I drop something. You have to love Labs. Amy is the only person I like in "MY' kitchen as everyone seems to be in my way. When I am cooking, I am a focused, spoiled, pain in the ass. Keep my glass full of adult beverages and leave me alone.
The sauce is coming together nicely and the cutlets have been lightly browned in a thin amount of EVOO. (Extra Virgin Olive Oil) By the way, always spend just a little more and get good Olive Oil. Here's where Lance steps up. I ask him to pick out a bottle of wine and son of a gun, the kid has good taste. He always seems to enjoy this as for a youngster of 23, he has a good understanding of wines. Plus, as a bartender and server at two great restaurants, he gets on the job training. We have a lot of wine, enough for a couple of fine Chop Houses. Three large 220 bottle Vino Temps Wine Coolers and a closet for back up. He pulls a 2005 Anthology from a great winery in Napa called Conn Creek. This is a Meritage consisting of five grapes married together to create a very smooth blend. It was better then I remembered from the tasting. Of course I was hammered at the tasting and actually don't remember ordering the case of this liquid gold. I did however see the damn credit card bill about 30 days later and re-promised for the 3000th time that "we will not drunk shop in Napa ever again." Since then, I have had many more deliveries mysteriously show up on my door. I can't be trusted.
The sauce is amazing, the wine is perfect, the asparagus is al dente and the four of us take our time enjoying great food and wine... and watching Elmo. It seems that is the only way Lance or Jen can eat. Tonight was "Potty Time" which is way better than "That's Music?" Over and over and over, it's like crack for kids. That song sticks in your head for days. I had no idea that I would come to love Elmo. Thank you, Sesame Street.
Somehow, June broke free from the grips of the addicting droning and crawled over to the table. She reaches up for me and as I said, whatever she wants... We sat there for awhile and just hung out. Reminded me of the family dinners I had growing up. Great food and talking every night. Seems like some of ours ended up with food fights or tears but 99% were good. Thanks Mom and Dad. Anyway, after all the meat was gone and I had received enough pats on the back for a good meal, Rebecca starts in on the kitchen. She has always told me if I cook for us, she will clean for us. But the whole stove top thing really makes a mess. I think I owe her another meal.
What a great visit! The kids left around 9:00, which means I only have about 15 minutes before my bedtime. That's how I know I'm old! I finish off the final half a glass of wine from the bottle which has now been open for about two hours so it's even better than before. It has a totally new taste filled with berries and vanilla.
I'm sitting there with the wife to the right of me and the dog at my feet. What a lucky guy. Not a bad evening for a slow Wednesday night.
Wow are we blessed.
Fight On!
Troy
The problem with cooking in a pan vs the BBQ is the oil or grease left over from the meats. Now if you are going to be making a reduction or even a gravy, stove top is the only way to go. Seriously, would you rather have a pan-fried steak or grilled? That's what I thought.
So when the kids come over, (I know they are not kids) we always like to have a nice dinner. Steaks, Carpaccio, ribs, home-made macaroni and cheese, great wines... the whole deal. I always go to Jensen's Market which is farther away than Pavilions and the other markets but it is worth it. I have a great relationship with my butcher, Pete, and I can't recommend enough that you get to know the person who handles your meat. Seriously, better cuts and they let you know what is the most fresh. I even gave him a USC sweatshirt last year for Christmas, he seems to be a Trojan fan. Most times I have no idea what I am going to buy until I see it. This time, pork cutlets caught my eye; plus they were on special. They were very lean and pounded out thin, they looked really good and I wanted something different. I also picked up a bunch of asparagus, some pre-made twice baked potatoes and a fresh loaf of Peasant's bread.
There was a recipe I found in foodie journal for a Lemon Butter Caper Sauce (all recipes available upon request, including the mac and cheese) and that sounded like a great way to prepare the meat but that meant the freakin pan's were going to have to come out from where they are stowed. You can't grow unless you get away from your comfort zone, right?
The kids show up right on time and the rock star (June) is on tonight. Great mood, big smile and as soon as she sees Papa Troy, the legs start kicking, giggles and coos, a perfect greeting. Rebecca and I fight over her attention for about 5 minutes and then I get a whiff of something and I'm done. I don't mention that I smelled anything but just casually pass her to Lance or Jen or someone who has actually changed a diaper. That is a true statement. I have never changed a diaper in my life. You see, Jen is Rebecca's daughter and I have only known her for 10 of her 27 years. I love her as if she were my own and even have the honor of giving her away at her wedding on November 22. I decided early on that I was a better Uncle and didn't have the patience to be a parent so I "fixed" the situation before things could have gone another direction. And I still get grand-kids!!! Way to go Lance and Jen!
Lance and I hit the pool and we have June in her swimmer diapers and man does this kid love the pool. I start playing Peek-a-boo (sp) and she can't get enough. Laughing out loud, kicking and waving her arms, she can have anything she wants whenever she wants it. Amy, our 9 year old yellow lab is jealous of June so of course she is in the pool too, begging for my tequila and orange juice. ("Gold Driver" recipe provided upon request.) She loves tequila and swimming; that's my girl!
After a half hour or so, it's time to go inside and get crack'in on the killer grinds. I have the meat out so that it gets to room temperature prior to cooking. This is a must, even with chicken. For even cooking and to keep the moistness in, take all meats out at least 1 hour prior to cooking. Spice with salt, pepper and garlic powder and cover. This 1 step will greatly improve the flavor and texture of your meat and meals instantly. Depending on the meat and how you are cooking, the rule is lighter amounts of spice for lighter colors of meat. Less on chicken, more on beef.
The recipe calls for minced garlic and dried parsley. Here is another tip, get fresh herbs. They are just as easy to cook with but add texture and flavor. So I pre-cut and get everything out and ready to go. I have two pans on the stove top, 1 for the meat and 1 for the sauce. Timing is everything so I am screwed here. Never done stove top pork cutlets and never have made this sauce. Jen and Rebecca are still lost in wedding talk and Lance is with the baby and me in and around the kitchen. Amy is my Siou Chef and as always, right under my feet in case I drop something. You have to love Labs. Amy is the only person I like in "MY' kitchen as everyone seems to be in my way. When I am cooking, I am a focused, spoiled, pain in the ass. Keep my glass full of adult beverages and leave me alone.
The sauce is coming together nicely and the cutlets have been lightly browned in a thin amount of EVOO. (Extra Virgin Olive Oil) By the way, always spend just a little more and get good Olive Oil. Here's where Lance steps up. I ask him to pick out a bottle of wine and son of a gun, the kid has good taste. He always seems to enjoy this as for a youngster of 23, he has a good understanding of wines. Plus, as a bartender and server at two great restaurants, he gets on the job training. We have a lot of wine, enough for a couple of fine Chop Houses. Three large 220 bottle Vino Temps Wine Coolers and a closet for back up. He pulls a 2005 Anthology from a great winery in Napa called Conn Creek. This is a Meritage consisting of five grapes married together to create a very smooth blend. It was better then I remembered from the tasting. Of course I was hammered at the tasting and actually don't remember ordering the case of this liquid gold. I did however see the damn credit card bill about 30 days later and re-promised for the 3000th time that "we will not drunk shop in Napa ever again." Since then, I have had many more deliveries mysteriously show up on my door. I can't be trusted.
The sauce is amazing, the wine is perfect, the asparagus is al dente and the four of us take our time enjoying great food and wine... and watching Elmo. It seems that is the only way Lance or Jen can eat. Tonight was "Potty Time" which is way better than "That's Music?" Over and over and over, it's like crack for kids. That song sticks in your head for days. I had no idea that I would come to love Elmo. Thank you, Sesame Street.
Somehow, June broke free from the grips of the addicting droning and crawled over to the table. She reaches up for me and as I said, whatever she wants... We sat there for awhile and just hung out. Reminded me of the family dinners I had growing up. Great food and talking every night. Seems like some of ours ended up with food fights or tears but 99% were good. Thanks Mom and Dad. Anyway, after all the meat was gone and I had received enough pats on the back for a good meal, Rebecca starts in on the kitchen. She has always told me if I cook for us, she will clean for us. But the whole stove top thing really makes a mess. I think I owe her another meal.
What a great visit! The kids left around 9:00, which means I only have about 15 minutes before my bedtime. That's how I know I'm old! I finish off the final half a glass of wine from the bottle which has now been open for about two hours so it's even better than before. It has a totally new taste filled with berries and vanilla.
I'm sitting there with the wife to the right of me and the dog at my feet. What a lucky guy. Not a bad evening for a slow Wednesday night.
Wow are we blessed.
Fight On!
Troy
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Troy on Troy - USC Football #1
I love USC Football. It is one of my true joys in life. I live and die with the team as they battle their opponents, the BCS and the press every single day, 365 days a year. It was such a great thrill and honor to play there and one day, all kidding aside, I want my wife to sprinkle some of my ashes on both the practice field at USC and the Coliseum so I can be around SC football as long as the University exists. I love USC Football.
With that having been said, I have a simple question. What is going on with Mitch Mustain, USC's third string QB? Check these facts out:
Dating back to Mitch Mustain's junior high school days, he has a 61-2 (.968) record as a starting quarterback (9-1 in eighth grade in 2001, 9-0 in both ninth grade in 2002 and 10th grade in 2003, 12-1 in 11th grade in 2004, 14-0 in 12th grade in 2005 and 8-0 as a freshman at Arkansas in 2006).
He was one of the most sought-after high school recruits by college football programs during the 2005-2006 school year. After he finishes his playing career at Springdale High School in Arkansas, Parade magazine named him High School Player of the Year in its January 1, 2006, issue. This is a really big thing. He was then named "Mr. Football" in Arkansas by the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette. He was also named the 2005-06 Gatorade National Football Player of the Year, the first-ever from the State of Arkansas. Scout.com ranked him as the high school class of 2006's top quarterback recruit. He was "The Man" coming out of high school. He had told reporters he planned to play for either Notre Dame, Tennessee, Alabama or his home-state Arkansas Razorbacks. He picked Arkansas. He was 8-0 at Arkansas starting as a freshman in the SEC. This is a conference known for their defense. He transfers to SC and looks great at practices. All this and amazingly has no shot at playing QB for USC unless we have a 45 point lead.
Here comes the opinion part and understand I have nothing to back this up. Pure cynical speculation. There may be a chance that the only reason SC offered Mustain a chance to come to SC was so they could get the also amazing receiver Damion Williams. There, it's been said, so now back it up. I can't.
Honestly, USC has an amazing list of talent at every position. Including Mitch, at one time we had 4 high school All-American Quarter Backs on the roster. 10 All-American running backs. We are deep. At receiver, we always have 1 guy that is special dating back to McKay Jr. But we always need a stand out at the wide out position. I think that SC may have felt this was the only way to get Damion to sign as they thought the two would not split up. They knew that it was a "two-fer" deal and believe me, Damion is worth two scholarships.
How does this come to pass? Things are said to recruits, promises actually and there may have been some kind of subtle assurances that Matt Barkley and Aaron Corp would get first crack. Again, I have zero proof, but it just feels funky.
Here is a story that will make you go hmm... Kerwin Bell played running back at Edison High School back in the hay day and he was a stud. Every time he touched the ball he could break it for a touchdown. The first Reggie Bush. Every top program wanted Kerwin, USC, Oklahoma, etc. All he has to do is say yes and he gets a full ride. Frank Sauer on the other hand was not a top recruit. But Frank had major skills. I once saw him throw a ball falling off his back foot, over a defense that thought they had the deep ball covered. He hit an open receiver for a touchdown and the crowd erupted. He led Edison to a C.I.F Championship in 1980 and went on to star at Kansas and the Pros for awhile.
Kerwin and Frank would have gone to USC but they didn't offer Frank a full ride so Kerwin goes with Frank to Kansas. The flood gates open and Edison players start committing to Kansas over SC. Bill Malivasi, Dino Bell, Ken Majors, Dave Geroux and yes, even me.
Here's the Irony; two years later, Frank leads the Jay hawks to a 26 - 20 victory over USC at the Coliseum. Frank has a career day and Kerwin does his thing. Dave Geroux is watching the game on TV at our apartment as he has to sit out a year because of the NCAA transfer rule. Frank should have been handing the ball off to Kerwin and Dave leading the way at full back. All three were better than my team mates at the same position for SC. Carma is a weird thing.
So Damion is a star and Mitch, a proven winner and great athlete, is now learning how to punt so he can hopefully play a few downs at SC. Am I glad the they are at SC? Hell yeah! I just feel bad for a kid who took a chance on USC and showed loyalty to a friend. He can't ever get this time back.
Now this next part I also believe. I trust in Pete Caroll. He is there in person, he and his staff review the films. They can see leadership and respect of team-mates and intelligence and all of the other factors that go into leading a team from the QB position. But what I have seen from Barkley and Corp leave me wanting. I could have been the QB against San Jose State and we still would have won by the same score. And for the record, it looked like I was playing QB against the Huskies... what the hell was that?
Long story short, it's Pete's call and I know he wants to win more than anyone, let's just hope he is doing what he is doing because he thinks it is the best thing for the Trojans as a whole. I trust in Pete, do you?
Fight On!
Troy
With that having been said, I have a simple question. What is going on with Mitch Mustain, USC's third string QB? Check these facts out:
Dating back to Mitch Mustain's junior high school days, he has a 61-2 (.968) record as a starting quarterback (9-1 in eighth grade in 2001, 9-0 in both ninth grade in 2002 and 10th grade in 2003, 12-1 in 11th grade in 2004, 14-0 in 12th grade in 2005 and 8-0 as a freshman at Arkansas in 2006).
He was one of the most sought-after high school recruits by college football programs during the 2005-2006 school year. After he finishes his playing career at Springdale High School in Arkansas, Parade magazine named him High School Player of the Year in its January 1, 2006, issue. This is a really big thing. He was then named "Mr. Football" in Arkansas by the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette. He was also named the 2005-06 Gatorade National Football Player of the Year, the first-ever from the State of Arkansas. Scout.com ranked him as the high school class of 2006's top quarterback recruit. He was "The Man" coming out of high school. He had told reporters he planned to play for either Notre Dame, Tennessee, Alabama or his home-state Arkansas Razorbacks. He picked Arkansas. He was 8-0 at Arkansas starting as a freshman in the SEC. This is a conference known for their defense. He transfers to SC and looks great at practices. All this and amazingly has no shot at playing QB for USC unless we have a 45 point lead.
Here comes the opinion part and understand I have nothing to back this up. Pure cynical speculation. There may be a chance that the only reason SC offered Mustain a chance to come to SC was so they could get the also amazing receiver Damion Williams. There, it's been said, so now back it up. I can't.
Honestly, USC has an amazing list of talent at every position. Including Mitch, at one time we had 4 high school All-American Quarter Backs on the roster. 10 All-American running backs. We are deep. At receiver, we always have 1 guy that is special dating back to McKay Jr. But we always need a stand out at the wide out position. I think that SC may have felt this was the only way to get Damion to sign as they thought the two would not split up. They knew that it was a "two-fer" deal and believe me, Damion is worth two scholarships.
How does this come to pass? Things are said to recruits, promises actually and there may have been some kind of subtle assurances that Matt Barkley and Aaron Corp would get first crack. Again, I have zero proof, but it just feels funky.
Here is a story that will make you go hmm... Kerwin Bell played running back at Edison High School back in the hay day and he was a stud. Every time he touched the ball he could break it for a touchdown. The first Reggie Bush. Every top program wanted Kerwin, USC, Oklahoma, etc. All he has to do is say yes and he gets a full ride. Frank Sauer on the other hand was not a top recruit. But Frank had major skills. I once saw him throw a ball falling off his back foot, over a defense that thought they had the deep ball covered. He hit an open receiver for a touchdown and the crowd erupted. He led Edison to a C.I.F Championship in 1980 and went on to star at Kansas and the Pros for awhile.
Kerwin and Frank would have gone to USC but they didn't offer Frank a full ride so Kerwin goes with Frank to Kansas. The flood gates open and Edison players start committing to Kansas over SC. Bill Malivasi, Dino Bell, Ken Majors, Dave Geroux and yes, even me.
Here's the Irony; two years later, Frank leads the Jay hawks to a 26 - 20 victory over USC at the Coliseum. Frank has a career day and Kerwin does his thing. Dave Geroux is watching the game on TV at our apartment as he has to sit out a year because of the NCAA transfer rule. Frank should have been handing the ball off to Kerwin and Dave leading the way at full back. All three were better than my team mates at the same position for SC. Carma is a weird thing.
So Damion is a star and Mitch, a proven winner and great athlete, is now learning how to punt so he can hopefully play a few downs at SC. Am I glad the they are at SC? Hell yeah! I just feel bad for a kid who took a chance on USC and showed loyalty to a friend. He can't ever get this time back.
Now this next part I also believe. I trust in Pete Caroll. He is there in person, he and his staff review the films. They can see leadership and respect of team-mates and intelligence and all of the other factors that go into leading a team from the QB position. But what I have seen from Barkley and Corp leave me wanting. I could have been the QB against San Jose State and we still would have won by the same score. And for the record, it looked like I was playing QB against the Huskies... what the hell was that?
Long story short, it's Pete's call and I know he wants to win more than anyone, let's just hope he is doing what he is doing because he thinks it is the best thing for the Trojans as a whole. I trust in Pete, do you?
Fight On!
Troy
Troy on Troy - The Moment Before the Moment
September 10, 1983. Absolutely beautiful outside, about 90 degrees with a very light breeze. I'm standing on the sideline dressed in my game uniform of Cardinal and Gold for the first time besides the team picture and I am about to live my dream of actually playing football for US freakin C. With my helmet and mouthpiece in my hand, I am watching our team struggle on offense on our first drive. That was to be expected that day as the Florida Gators were our opponent and we were both ranked in the top 10 in the Country.
2nd and 9 and we pick up a couple yards on a run off the right side. We ran the ball directly into the arms of All American Wilbur Marshall. He played for years with the Chicago Bears including a Super Bowl. He had an off day with only 18 un assisted tackles... yikes!
It's at that moment, when it is 3rd and 6 when I start this thing I do and that I have done since I can remember. My world slows down almost like you hit a button on a VCR. I look around at the people around me, the setting, take in the sounds, smells and really feel everything that is going on in great detail. I can tell you 27 years later who I was standing next to, conversations that coach's were having and even that I was having issues with my right sock as the elastic wouldn't keep the damn thing up. I get this sense of calm, sometimes I actually get chills or a rush of warmth, it varies every time.
This is what I call "the moment before the moment." It is that time when you are fortunate enough to know that a significant action in your life is about to take place. Not generalizations like "today is a big day" or "I have a date tonight" happenings, but the actual minutes and seconds prior to that action. The moment leading up to a significant event that you are aware is about to happen. Big things happen to us all the time but rarely are we aware that it is upon us.
Sean Salisbury's pass to Tim Ware sails long and out of bounds. I am intense, pumped, and every other word you can think of to explain the excitement that I am feeling but I am not in the least bit nervous. I am waiting for the coaches to yell, "kick it" or "punt it" and I do mean yell. They never speak the words "punt the ball away" in a happy tone. That is a topic for another day but it's not my fault that your offensive coordinator called a play action pass when everyone in the stadium knew it was coming. Why yell at the punter? I digress.
I have my helmet on, not sure how it got there, but it is on and the chin strap is locked and loaded. I am standing next to Mark Boyer and Eric McGee. It's 4th and 6 on our own 36 yard line. I am waiting for coach Tollner and Coach Purnell to say the words that again everyone knows in the stadium are coming. He finally turns and shrieks "kick the God Damn Ball." Suddenly, like rain hitting a parched desert, every coach is now acting as if the World has come to an end and in some tribal chaotic chant, they all are screaming "PUNT, PUNT, PUNT!!!"
Everyone is running around in hyper speed but to me, it feels like a dream. It is calm and tranquil. I swear on my dog (who everyone knows is loved) that I had a smile on my face. I trotted onto the field and stood 15 yards from the line of scrimmage with no one around me in a scene that Pixar should consider re-creating. I reach down and pick at the grass, not to check the wind like I am about to hit a sand wedge, but I wanted to know what the grass on the field of the LA Memorial Coliseum felt like. This is the place where Olympians, pro sports teams, Marcus Allen, OJ and Anthony Davis have created history. This is sports hallowed ground. For the record, it felt like grass. I look up at the stands filled with a welcoming home crowd of about 92,000 or so. I know this is a nationally televised game so another few million are watching across the Country. My mom and dad are there as well as my sister and my fraternity brothers. I felt a focus come over me as it is about time to do what I came to USC to do.
Still in a slow version of reality, I raise my arms out in front of me to signal I am ready for the ball, I’m thinking out loud, “let’s do this thing.” The noise level is high. I can't hear the snap count but I have done this before hundreds of times in practice and in other games so I know when the head of my personal protector (yes I am that special to have a personal protector) starts moving up and down and his shoulders move in time, he is calling for the ball to be snapped. I take a regular breath as I am not breathing heavily. My long snapper's ass drops just a little and the ball rips towards me. Everything is still moving slowly, this is the moment, fantasy becomes reality. I realize that I am playing for USC; I am on the field for the Trojans. If I miss the ball or nail it, none of that can take from me the FACT that I, Troy Richardson, am a football player for USC. Sounds dramatic but for me, it is the realization of a dream. I take my first of 2 and a half steps, catch the ball which is perfectly snapped and turn it to the right position for impact. I drop the ball and swing my leg almost as hard as I can and whomp... it sails away in a perfect spiral. That was the moment, the moment of impact that brought everything back to full speed. The increase of the noise level in the stadium confirmed what I already knew from the feel of the collision of the ball and my foot.
In the extra time I took, just a little bit longer then one normally takes as we do what we do, I created a special imprint on my memory like a video of a Christmas morning as a child coming out to see what Santa left. I don’t know when or why I started doing this, but I have been doing this as far back as I can remember.
I have hundreds of these mental video clips and not all moments are great, as in getting fired from a job. That was not a good moment but still, the understanding that I was at a significant time in my life and that I was able to register that and take in my surroundings and emotions is special to me. This adds to the memory of the actual event 10 fold. I am sure this is starting to sound like the ramblings of a man on mushrooms but it is something that I really enjoy.
Who I am now is a melting pot of what has happened to me over the last 45 years. Good, bad or indifferent, our souls are gifts from God. Our memories are our compellation of our life’s for us individually. They are what makes us…us.
Try it. The next time you are going into a job interview, making a presentation or even going to one of your kid’s soccer games. Take 5 seconds to look around at the faces of the people there, the setting and check your senses for what you are feeling. Suck it all in like a bonus of life from God above and store it in your head.
It’s your moment, enjoy it!
Fight On!
Troy
2nd and 9 and we pick up a couple yards on a run off the right side. We ran the ball directly into the arms of All American Wilbur Marshall. He played for years with the Chicago Bears including a Super Bowl. He had an off day with only 18 un assisted tackles... yikes!
It's at that moment, when it is 3rd and 6 when I start this thing I do and that I have done since I can remember. My world slows down almost like you hit a button on a VCR. I look around at the people around me, the setting, take in the sounds, smells and really feel everything that is going on in great detail. I can tell you 27 years later who I was standing next to, conversations that coach's were having and even that I was having issues with my right sock as the elastic wouldn't keep the damn thing up. I get this sense of calm, sometimes I actually get chills or a rush of warmth, it varies every time.
This is what I call "the moment before the moment." It is that time when you are fortunate enough to know that a significant action in your life is about to take place. Not generalizations like "today is a big day" or "I have a date tonight" happenings, but the actual minutes and seconds prior to that action. The moment leading up to a significant event that you are aware is about to happen. Big things happen to us all the time but rarely are we aware that it is upon us.
Sean Salisbury's pass to Tim Ware sails long and out of bounds. I am intense, pumped, and every other word you can think of to explain the excitement that I am feeling but I am not in the least bit nervous. I am waiting for the coaches to yell, "kick it" or "punt it" and I do mean yell. They never speak the words "punt the ball away" in a happy tone. That is a topic for another day but it's not my fault that your offensive coordinator called a play action pass when everyone in the stadium knew it was coming. Why yell at the punter? I digress.
I have my helmet on, not sure how it got there, but it is on and the chin strap is locked and loaded. I am standing next to Mark Boyer and Eric McGee. It's 4th and 6 on our own 36 yard line. I am waiting for coach Tollner and Coach Purnell to say the words that again everyone knows in the stadium are coming. He finally turns and shrieks "kick the God Damn Ball." Suddenly, like rain hitting a parched desert, every coach is now acting as if the World has come to an end and in some tribal chaotic chant, they all are screaming "PUNT, PUNT, PUNT!!!"
Everyone is running around in hyper speed but to me, it feels like a dream. It is calm and tranquil. I swear on my dog (who everyone knows is loved) that I had a smile on my face. I trotted onto the field and stood 15 yards from the line of scrimmage with no one around me in a scene that Pixar should consider re-creating. I reach down and pick at the grass, not to check the wind like I am about to hit a sand wedge, but I wanted to know what the grass on the field of the LA Memorial Coliseum felt like. This is the place where Olympians, pro sports teams, Marcus Allen, OJ and Anthony Davis have created history. This is sports hallowed ground. For the record, it felt like grass. I look up at the stands filled with a welcoming home crowd of about 92,000 or so. I know this is a nationally televised game so another few million are watching across the Country. My mom and dad are there as well as my sister and my fraternity brothers. I felt a focus come over me as it is about time to do what I came to USC to do.
Still in a slow version of reality, I raise my arms out in front of me to signal I am ready for the ball, I’m thinking out loud, “let’s do this thing.” The noise level is high. I can't hear the snap count but I have done this before hundreds of times in practice and in other games so I know when the head of my personal protector (yes I am that special to have a personal protector) starts moving up and down and his shoulders move in time, he is calling for the ball to be snapped. I take a regular breath as I am not breathing heavily. My long snapper's ass drops just a little and the ball rips towards me. Everything is still moving slowly, this is the moment, fantasy becomes reality. I realize that I am playing for USC; I am on the field for the Trojans. If I miss the ball or nail it, none of that can take from me the FACT that I, Troy Richardson, am a football player for USC. Sounds dramatic but for me, it is the realization of a dream. I take my first of 2 and a half steps, catch the ball which is perfectly snapped and turn it to the right position for impact. I drop the ball and swing my leg almost as hard as I can and whomp... it sails away in a perfect spiral. That was the moment, the moment of impact that brought everything back to full speed. The increase of the noise level in the stadium confirmed what I already knew from the feel of the collision of the ball and my foot.
In the extra time I took, just a little bit longer then one normally takes as we do what we do, I created a special imprint on my memory like a video of a Christmas morning as a child coming out to see what Santa left. I don’t know when or why I started doing this, but I have been doing this as far back as I can remember.
I have hundreds of these mental video clips and not all moments are great, as in getting fired from a job. That was not a good moment but still, the understanding that I was at a significant time in my life and that I was able to register that and take in my surroundings and emotions is special to me. This adds to the memory of the actual event 10 fold. I am sure this is starting to sound like the ramblings of a man on mushrooms but it is something that I really enjoy.
Who I am now is a melting pot of what has happened to me over the last 45 years. Good, bad or indifferent, our souls are gifts from God. Our memories are our compellation of our life’s for us individually. They are what makes us…us.
Try it. The next time you are going into a job interview, making a presentation or even going to one of your kid’s soccer games. Take 5 seconds to look around at the faces of the people there, the setting and check your senses for what you are feeling. Suck it all in like a bonus of life from God above and store it in your head.
It’s your moment, enjoy it!
Fight On!
Troy
Monday, September 21, 2009
Troy on Troy - Learning From a Loss
On a cool Friday night in late November, 1981, my small piece of the World was about to be shaken upside down. A bunch of kids on both sides of a football field, coaches, fans and interested on lookers watched with anticipation but had no idea of what they were about to see. Edison High School's football team was ranked #1 in the State and most National polls. They played host to Servite, a Catholic school with a strong tradition but admittedly having an off season. They met at Orange Coast College in the first round of the C.I.F. Southern Section playoffs. A game that changed lives forever.
At the time, Edison was coming off a perfect 14-0 season from the year before and somehow, had gotten better. At 10 – 0, we were riding a 32 game winning streak, longest in the State and in reality, one of the most talented high school teams to ever put on pads. Depth at every position, well coached and well documented in the papers, local TV, etc. There was so much talent that off that team, 17 people ended up playing in College at Division 1 schools including 5 at USC, Notre Dame, Kansas, Stanford, Oregon State, Weber State, San Diego State and the list goes on. Honestly, we were the shit!
We didn't know a whole lot about Servite except they had "snuck" into the playoffs with a 5-5 or 6-4 record. They had no chance.
Great news had been announced that as soon as we dispatch with Servite, we were going to play St. Paul, they were undefeated and the match up was so big that we were going to play at Anaheim Stadium for the 4th time in two years.
Let's just say we had an off night. The best football player I have ever seen play in person at any level, Dave Geroux, broke his arm and the pads came off at halftime. We couldn't move the ball, we had turnovers and in general, just a terrible night. If we played them 100 times, that would have been their only win. We ended up losing 7 to 14. High school career over, out of the playoffs, done.
In a flash, truly in the blink of an eye, what we thought was ours wasn't. What was sure to happen, hadn't. I was 17 years old and now what the heck was I supposed to do. I was not used to losing football games. Our freshman team was undefeated and unscored on. My varsity record was 24 - 0 going into the game against Servite.
After the clock had made it final and hit 0:00, chaos filled our sideline. There were guys throwing helmets, tears, I was in quiet shock. I remember that at Servite, win or lose; they have an after game tradition of going thru a quick routine, not cocky at all but classy. It seemed to last forever and I can still see and here it with my eyes open or shut to this very day. It would have been impossible for the older Troy of today to explain to the 17 year old Troy the importance of that game prior to being played.
I have learned more from that loss then if we would have beaten them by forty and gone on to win everything. Don’t get me wrong, I hate losing, in fact, that was the very first lesson I learned that night. Without going thru each and every epiphany from that night, I just felt like sharing what I think was the most significant learned life lesson. What has had the biggest impact on the 45 year old Troy.
How do you handle adversity? How do you react when things go poorly or horribly? That is what makes you, uniquely you. Victory is easy. Losing shouldn’t be. It should be hard to accept and taste bitter and everything should be done to prepare to avoid defeat. But defeat comes. How do you deal with it? Cry, throw things, yes, maybe a little at first but you rebound. You get stronger and look forward to the next battle. I have been so very fortunate in my life to have so many more victories then losses but still I find that I am tested by the things that don’t go right. They test me but do not define me. Don’t make a sale, move on to the next guy. Learn from it and adapt to make the next one.
On many occasions, I have actually thought back to that night when MY World came to a brief but sudden stop. I remember telling guys to pick up your helmets, carry your head high; I was screaming this and didn’t know why. I think I was the last guy in our locker room, I couldn’t leave the field. I had so many great moments there, I was looking back and understood that things were different now; I was never going to be on that field with my friends in battle again. Not that stage. I just this moment got a chill as I could actually recall the smell in the air. The locker room was heavy with the scent of despair but the air outside was fresh with hope, crisp with uncertainty and clean like a fresh slate. That chapter of my life was over and things were going to get better.
For most of us on that team, things did get better, much better. I know it took some of us longer then others to get over the loss. It sometimes saddens me to think of “what if.” But for the most part, I look back and think, “what if it hadn’t happened.”
Fight On!
Troy
At the time, Edison was coming off a perfect 14-0 season from the year before and somehow, had gotten better. At 10 – 0, we were riding a 32 game winning streak, longest in the State and in reality, one of the most talented high school teams to ever put on pads. Depth at every position, well coached and well documented in the papers, local TV, etc. There was so much talent that off that team, 17 people ended up playing in College at Division 1 schools including 5 at USC, Notre Dame, Kansas, Stanford, Oregon State, Weber State, San Diego State and the list goes on. Honestly, we were the shit!
We didn't know a whole lot about Servite except they had "snuck" into the playoffs with a 5-5 or 6-4 record. They had no chance.
Great news had been announced that as soon as we dispatch with Servite, we were going to play St. Paul, they were undefeated and the match up was so big that we were going to play at Anaheim Stadium for the 4th time in two years.
Let's just say we had an off night. The best football player I have ever seen play in person at any level, Dave Geroux, broke his arm and the pads came off at halftime. We couldn't move the ball, we had turnovers and in general, just a terrible night. If we played them 100 times, that would have been their only win. We ended up losing 7 to 14. High school career over, out of the playoffs, done.
In a flash, truly in the blink of an eye, what we thought was ours wasn't. What was sure to happen, hadn't. I was 17 years old and now what the heck was I supposed to do. I was not used to losing football games. Our freshman team was undefeated and unscored on. My varsity record was 24 - 0 going into the game against Servite.
After the clock had made it final and hit 0:00, chaos filled our sideline. There were guys throwing helmets, tears, I was in quiet shock. I remember that at Servite, win or lose; they have an after game tradition of going thru a quick routine, not cocky at all but classy. It seemed to last forever and I can still see and here it with my eyes open or shut to this very day. It would have been impossible for the older Troy of today to explain to the 17 year old Troy the importance of that game prior to being played.
I have learned more from that loss then if we would have beaten them by forty and gone on to win everything. Don’t get me wrong, I hate losing, in fact, that was the very first lesson I learned that night. Without going thru each and every epiphany from that night, I just felt like sharing what I think was the most significant learned life lesson. What has had the biggest impact on the 45 year old Troy.
How do you handle adversity? How do you react when things go poorly or horribly? That is what makes you, uniquely you. Victory is easy. Losing shouldn’t be. It should be hard to accept and taste bitter and everything should be done to prepare to avoid defeat. But defeat comes. How do you deal with it? Cry, throw things, yes, maybe a little at first but you rebound. You get stronger and look forward to the next battle. I have been so very fortunate in my life to have so many more victories then losses but still I find that I am tested by the things that don’t go right. They test me but do not define me. Don’t make a sale, move on to the next guy. Learn from it and adapt to make the next one.
On many occasions, I have actually thought back to that night when MY World came to a brief but sudden stop. I remember telling guys to pick up your helmets, carry your head high; I was screaming this and didn’t know why. I think I was the last guy in our locker room, I couldn’t leave the field. I had so many great moments there, I was looking back and understood that things were different now; I was never going to be on that field with my friends in battle again. Not that stage. I just this moment got a chill as I could actually recall the smell in the air. The locker room was heavy with the scent of despair but the air outside was fresh with hope, crisp with uncertainty and clean like a fresh slate. That chapter of my life was over and things were going to get better.
For most of us on that team, things did get better, much better. I know it took some of us longer then others to get over the loss. It sometimes saddens me to think of “what if.” But for the most part, I look back and think, “what if it hadn’t happened.”
Fight On!
Troy
Welcome to Troy on Troy
September 21, 2009
Welcome to Troy on Troy. As this is my first official entry into the World of blogging, I guess I should give a brief description of what the heck I was thinking when I decided to give this a try and the direction I hope this goes over the next 62 days. Why 62? That is the day after my daughter gets married, November 22, 2009, I wanted to put a time line on writing something daily and thought that is as good as a drop dead day as any.
The direction of this Blog will probably have many topics as I have many interests. College football, Politics, travel, business, my wife Rebecca, my daughter Jenifer, My fur child Amy, (9 year old yellow lab) etc. If something takes my interests and I can focus on a specific topic for more then a 30 min blog, then good for me and my 1 reader.
I am not going to give you a rundown from start to finish on who or what I am, I will let that be learned from my 60 plus entries and promise to give enough background so that when I do write about one of my amazing adventures, you will not be searching to make sense of my stories.
With that being said, let's crank it up!!!
Honestly, in a nutshell, this past weekend was a rough one. My favorite college football team USC, took it in the shorts, I didn't get nearly enough sleep and had a bit of a hangover on Saturday.
Everything started off fine as I took my wife to a great little place in La Quinta, California on Friday. We live in Rancho Mirage so it was only about a 20 minute drive. Normally, that is about 10 minutes out of our travel range for a meal but we made an exception and what a treat it was. It is a cooking school that offers themed meals, classes and even 25 week courses for wanna be chefs. It is called Cooking With Class (http://www.cookingwithclasslaquinta.com) and I highly recommend it. I am a bit of a foodie and really enjoy cooking for people. That is how I found the place as I was looking for a place to take a couple of classes on cooking. They have a display kitchen and really spend time with you on the preparation, presentation and wine pairings. $150.00 per couple including a five course meal, tax, tip and three glasses of great wine each.
We came home after our loud drive home. For what ever reason, (wine) when we drive home from going out to dinner, the radio ends up on classic rock and normally turned way up. As always, we bring a little something home for the dog and hide 3 to 5 pieces around the house so she has to hunt for them. What a nose and she loves the game. Another bottle of wine and there you go, Saturday starts off crappy with the afore mentioned hangover. About a 2.5 on our scale from 1 (just a little thirsty) to 5 (I'm screwed.) We used to do the 1 to 10 scale but neither of us ever admitted anything over a 3 so we readjusted the scale. Seems to be more accurate that way.
For what ever reason, I woke up at 2:00 am and never went back to sleep. So when 12:30 comes around and my sister, her husband and their son who is about 5, are 2.5 hours late, I am dragging ass. Kickoff of USC Vs. Washington is in about 7 minutes and I am wanting only three simple things. SC to win, my hangover to disappear and either Florida or Texas to lose. 0 for 3 baby. SC looks like a bad high school team, both FL and TX sneak out victories and my head hurts and spins until I breakdown and make a batch of my version of a Cadillac Margarita. These have been described as "holds up well against ice." (all recipes are available upon request only and I assure you, some of them are awesome!) I sit alone in the house sipping my adult beverage while everyone else is outside in the pool. Fall starts on Monday so the 107 is actually a bit nippy,...right. Finally happy again through a couple of fat rationalizations about still have a chance, season not over, etc and the second Margi dissapears wonderfully into my system. A couple more and off to bed for a second straight 4 hour night of sleep.
Normally, the night after a bad night sleep is followed by deep sleep, drool on the pillow and a somewhat refreshed and clear mind. However, two bad ones in a row and you really suck the next day. At least Sunday was hangover free.
Sunday was uneventful with the exception of Julie Julia. The movie about Julia Child, her fan and cooking. I loved it and loved the idea of a blog. So here we are. I'm typing trying to find a direction. It feels like a bad sitcom pilot without direction. Something will come along and bring clarity, but obviously not yet.
I must tell you, it feels good to write though. I enjoyed it in college and even in business but those all had a purpose. Only time will tell.
Now for a goodbye. A saying, catchphrase or word that will let you know I am done for the day and leaves you wanting more. Ah, I know. At least it is all I have for now.
Fight On!
Troy
Welcome to Troy on Troy. As this is my first official entry into the World of blogging, I guess I should give a brief description of what the heck I was thinking when I decided to give this a try and the direction I hope this goes over the next 62 days. Why 62? That is the day after my daughter gets married, November 22, 2009, I wanted to put a time line on writing something daily and thought that is as good as a drop dead day as any.
The direction of this Blog will probably have many topics as I have many interests. College football, Politics, travel, business, my wife Rebecca, my daughter Jenifer, My fur child Amy, (9 year old yellow lab) etc. If something takes my interests and I can focus on a specific topic for more then a 30 min blog, then good for me and my 1 reader.
I am not going to give you a rundown from start to finish on who or what I am, I will let that be learned from my 60 plus entries and promise to give enough background so that when I do write about one of my amazing adventures, you will not be searching to make sense of my stories.
With that being said, let's crank it up!!!
Honestly, in a nutshell, this past weekend was a rough one. My favorite college football team USC, took it in the shorts, I didn't get nearly enough sleep and had a bit of a hangover on Saturday.
Everything started off fine as I took my wife to a great little place in La Quinta, California on Friday. We live in Rancho Mirage so it was only about a 20 minute drive. Normally, that is about 10 minutes out of our travel range for a meal but we made an exception and what a treat it was. It is a cooking school that offers themed meals, classes and even 25 week courses for wanna be chefs. It is called Cooking With Class (http://www.cookingwithclasslaquinta.com) and I highly recommend it. I am a bit of a foodie and really enjoy cooking for people. That is how I found the place as I was looking for a place to take a couple of classes on cooking. They have a display kitchen and really spend time with you on the preparation, presentation and wine pairings. $150.00 per couple including a five course meal, tax, tip and three glasses of great wine each.
We came home after our loud drive home. For what ever reason, (wine) when we drive home from going out to dinner, the radio ends up on classic rock and normally turned way up. As always, we bring a little something home for the dog and hide 3 to 5 pieces around the house so she has to hunt for them. What a nose and she loves the game. Another bottle of wine and there you go, Saturday starts off crappy with the afore mentioned hangover. About a 2.5 on our scale from 1 (just a little thirsty) to 5 (I'm screwed.) We used to do the 1 to 10 scale but neither of us ever admitted anything over a 3 so we readjusted the scale. Seems to be more accurate that way.
For what ever reason, I woke up at 2:00 am and never went back to sleep. So when 12:30 comes around and my sister, her husband and their son who is about 5, are 2.5 hours late, I am dragging ass. Kickoff of USC Vs. Washington is in about 7 minutes and I am wanting only three simple things. SC to win, my hangover to disappear and either Florida or Texas to lose. 0 for 3 baby. SC looks like a bad high school team, both FL and TX sneak out victories and my head hurts and spins until I breakdown and make a batch of my version of a Cadillac Margarita. These have been described as "holds up well against ice." (all recipes are available upon request only and I assure you, some of them are awesome!) I sit alone in the house sipping my adult beverage while everyone else is outside in the pool. Fall starts on Monday so the 107 is actually a bit nippy,...right. Finally happy again through a couple of fat rationalizations about still have a chance, season not over, etc and the second Margi dissapears wonderfully into my system. A couple more and off to bed for a second straight 4 hour night of sleep.
Normally, the night after a bad night sleep is followed by deep sleep, drool on the pillow and a somewhat refreshed and clear mind. However, two bad ones in a row and you really suck the next day. At least Sunday was hangover free.
Sunday was uneventful with the exception of Julie Julia. The movie about Julia Child, her fan and cooking. I loved it and loved the idea of a blog. So here we are. I'm typing trying to find a direction. It feels like a bad sitcom pilot without direction. Something will come along and bring clarity, but obviously not yet.
I must tell you, it feels good to write though. I enjoyed it in college and even in business but those all had a purpose. Only time will tell.
Now for a goodbye. A saying, catchphrase or word that will let you know I am done for the day and leaves you wanting more. Ah, I know. At least it is all I have for now.
Fight On!
Troy
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