The Importance of Something (Seemingly) Meaningless

There are moments that appear to observers as just ordinary, even meaningless. To those that experience the moment, they can be defining.

I took a casual bike ride last Sunday. Rain had plagued the area for most of the day, but by early evening it had moved out and given way to a very un-January-esque night. It was the perfect time to appreciate, well everything in life:

I forgot to bring my camera with me, but I think my phone does a pretty serviceable job conveying the moment. It was the "off week" between the Super Bowl and when the Eagles had won their conference championship. The slight breeze and mist in the air made the evening absolutely breathtaking. The atmosphere even smelled perfect, not to mention the beautiful, unifying sight of seeing all the city's buildings lit up in green:

The sights and sounds around this city last night after the Eagles won the Super Bowl were dramatically different, to say the least. They were anything but casual, but also equally unifying (at least from my vantage point). I'm sure you've seen the pictures and videos from around the webernets. I captured a few videos but only one picture, and the only one that really matters to me:

My extremely giddy face tells the entire story. I'd like to backtrack a bit, to attempt to bring this whole thing into perspective. About a year ago, I started dating this amazing woman that you see above, who unfortunately lives many miles away from Philly. She also has an equally amazing daughter, and her birthday was a few days ago.

About a month and a half ago, we'd made plans for me to visit them to celebrate a birthday, with an extended weekend culminating in watching the Super Bowl (by the way, she's a Steelers fan too). When we made these plans, our teams appeared to be on a collision course to meet in the big game. Watching it together at a neutral site seemed only fair.

Then some funny things happened. The Eagles lost their MVP quarterback and all of that seemed in jeopardy. The Steelers lost in the first round of the playoffs, confirming we (as a couple) could only potentially have one rooting interest in the Super Bowl.

Much to my (our) pleasant surprise, the Eagles defied all odds and made it to the grandest of stages in spite of all doubters. The party on Broad Street in South Philly after the NFC Championship game was absolutely electrifying. I now had a decision to make.

I didn't want to not be here for the Super Bowl. I also couldn't miss the kid's birthday. We talked. I decided I was going to change my game plan and attempt to do both, requiring a whole lot of driving within a span of about 48 hours. Everything was perfectly aligned. Perhaps I should emphasize how damn understanding and awesome she is.

And then she went one step further and said "WE can do both." She booked a one-way flight out of Philly for this evening and we decided to road trip from her house back here to Philly the night before the game. Apparently the allure of what went down here the previous week was not only too much for me to avoid, but also for her.

As you can see from the picture above, we did it, and those three words sum it all up. We're just fans when it comes down to it, but WE DID IT. Against all odds and all challenges, WE WON.

Being part of the moment with this wonderful person by my side the entire way made it all that much sweeter. Every low, every high, every cringe, every cheer, all of it. We didn't get to Philly until 4:30AM on Super Bowl Sunday, and yet I never felt tired throughout the entire day. Only this afternoon did the adrenaline finally start to wear off. And the picture up above is the defining moment, when everything in love and sports that I've been waiting for my whole life came to fruition. WE. FUCKING. DID. IT.

The Eagles winning the Super Bowl is meaningless to some. To me, it not only means a lot, but it also means just a little bit more.

Remember Before you Forget

Yesterday, everyone posted "never forget," reposted pictures of the former twin towers with American flags draped over top, and shared their moments from our generation's "JFK" all over social media.

What are we all doing today?

As cynical as that question may sound, we can't deny that most who engaged in these activities will indeed "forget" whatever they were representing just hours earlier - love, hate (yes, hate), remembrance, patriotism, garnering "likes," and the list goes on...

...because today we're directing our attention to the next thing. Tuesday. Work. School. Lunch. These are just some examples, but I think you get my point. Today is 9/12, and it's just another day.

We have these "cornerstones" in American schedules - Memorial Day, Independence Day, Labor Day (noticing a pattern here) - where we go through the time-honored tradition of saying "We Remember..." and just as quickly, forget. And sadly, this sums up America to me. We are as the Simpsons put it so elegantly so many years ago, a "quick fix, instant oatmeal, 1-hour photo society." What's important to us one minute is completely forgotten the next minute.

I'm not the world's biggest patriot. Far from it. I'm simply saying that instead of saying "never forget," if it's really that important, we may want to "always remember."

Together in the Wilderness

It's been a while...

I was fortunate enough to spend an awesome weekend in nature with an awesome girl this weekend, which started with an omen near the end of a 4-hour drive:

As I was exiting the PA Turnpike, I swerved to avoid a piece of debris on the off-ramp. As I passed it, I swore I saw a turtle and thought I saw movement. I slammed on the brakes to go back and look. Sure enough, the little fella was alive but far from well, trying to cross the road from marsh to marsh. He never would have made it over the jersey barrier. I picked him up and carried him across the road to safety, only to get peed on for my troubles. I can't blame the poor little guy. I've been told it's actually a sign of good luck to come, and in hindsight, I'd say that was the case.

I met up with my girlfriend at a grocery store not far from our destination to pick up some supplies before arriving at camp in Laurel Hill State Park:

It was at this point we realized we had no cell service, which was completely alright with both of us. I've often said I belong in a simpler time and place, and it can't get much simpler than this in modern times. The title of this blog being what it is, there was also no better place to appreciate the present moment.

Of course, we did bring some modern conveniences (if you want to call it that). I mean, I couldn't cook dinner unless I had a gas stove (or two):

Alright, so I guess I could have used wood fire (we eventually did later in the weekend), but nonetheless. I love cooking outside. I also love campfires:

After that burned out, we got some rest and set out for the first of several hikes the next morning, none of which were really planned other than by looking at the park map. Our first half of the adventure wasn't particularly noteworthy, but we did stumble upon this neat little spot, Hemlock Natural Area:

It's much more peaceful than my shitty phone camera makes it out to be. It's also associated with this:

That's a pretty interesting find. The only time I remember being in an old-growth forest was on the West Coast (click the link to learn more), and they are becoming fewer and further between. Perhaps on a related note, I was pleasantly surprised to see very few instances of trash in the entirety of the park, so Western PA peeps have their shit together at least sometimes...

We ventured on to the more intense Lake section of the trail (I don't have any pics but I think my girlfriend took a few) and we did pretty darn good despite the park classifying it as its most difficult trail. As we hiked on, it became clearer that this was a classic old-growth forest, as fallen trees are left to decay naturally. We encountered several of these in this section, including one that took out the bridge near the end of the hike:

We weren't about to turn back, as we were starting to get hungry and traversing back about 2 miles over that terrain would have been far too long to go without real food (face it, a ClifBar can only hold you for so long). We decided to cross and hope for the best (obviously we survived). After completing our sojourn across the broken bridge, we were understandably excited:

But ultimately, we were starting to feel like this:

So we headed back to camp for lunch:

Did I mention that I love cooking outdoors? All told, we logged more than 6 miles over some pretty intense terrain. Not too bad for two people who don't hike regularly:

My legs were definitely feeling the burn afterward, and it was kinda nice to be sore for a change. I realize I bike every day, but I'm sure I don't need to remind you that it's really not the same as hiking.

Speaking of bikes, you know it wouldn't be a Steve adventure if a bike wasn't involved at SOME point. I actually brought my mountain bike for the weekend, but pulled it out of the car and realized I'd somehow blown a tire, so that wasn't going to be an option. Luckily, my forward-thinking girlfriend decided to bring BOTH of her bikes, so we ate lunch and sneaked in a few miles of riding before hitting another hiking trail:

This trail happened to be my favorite of the weekend. It was a leisurely walk next to and over a winding creek:

When I say over, I mean OVER:

It was only a foot or two deep at that point, so falling probably wouldn't have been the end of the world. Also makes for a great photo op:

The trail continued on. Our particular journey ended at the Jones Mill Run Dam, a beautiful old stone dam built more than a hundred years ago out of all natural dry-stacked stone "imported" from Pottsville PA:

I had to get one Eastern PA plug in there. Also makes for a great photo op, don'tcha think?

On a shallower water day, we probably would have crossed the top of the dam (which you ARE allowed to do), but it had rained pretty intensely the night before, so that really wasn't a great idea. We hopped on the bikes and headed back to camp:

One more time, did I mention that I love to cook outdoors?

Side note, this was also the first weekend I'd actually cooked for my girlfriend. Kudos to her for leaving her livelihood in the hands of this strange macrobiotic dude. She actually enjoyed it, but I had little doubt she would. I mean it's not like we were cooking giant millipedes, of which we saw plenty:

Not a whole lot of interesting wildlife to be seen otherwise this weekend, but plenty of flora, though:

And this neat little guy hiding in the rough:

Speaking of rough, Sunday morning came and we had already accomplished everything we wanted to in the park, one of the many perks of having zero expectations or set plans. The only natural thing to do was to find another trail. The one we chose first had a climb, and then curved back towards camp along the same creek that leads to the dam, but from the other direction. It's not well-marked or traveled, and I think it was more difficult than any trail we hiked all weekend. Some sections are extremely marshy and muddy due to recent snow melt, and there's no bridge to cross the creek at several places. As such, we got into some true wilderness hiking:

The water was cold but refreshing, and let me tell ya, my feet felt great after I eventually put my socks back on. It's been over a year since I walked in non-beach water or on natural dirt (which I didn't realize until just now) and I need to try to do that more often. It's tough to do in a city. Anyway...

We forged ahead and stopped back at the dam to eat a light lunch. By the time we got back to the car, we had put in nearly 4 more miles through some pretty intense terrain:

For those of you keeping track, we were near 1,000 feet of elevation gained on the weekend (via hiking alone, not including biking). Only 28,000 feet more to climb Everest!

But we weren't through yet. We'd seen just about all this park had to offer, so after breaking camp, we headed up the road to the much smaller Kooser State Park. It literally had two trails and we hiked both of them, the first of which had a neat name:

Imagine an army of trees. Maybe like the Ents in Lord of the Rings? I dunno. I'm just glad we weren't there at night. We finished that one in rather short order and set our sights on the much more challenging Kincora Trail:

Challenging in the name of a 300-foot incline at approximately 60 degrees:

You know it's real when they build the steps into the mountain. Guess what? We made it!

We headed back down the hill, which was actually more difficult. Unbelievable to me, we finished the entire park in about an hour:

The bittersweet moment that followed was having to say goodbye (for now). I wanna say I hated it, but it's all part of the experience. As I drove away from the weekend, passing through the tunnels and mountains of Western Pennsylvania while the sun faded away, I had plenty of reasons to feel lucky, even though we'd done little more than spend a couple days walking (and biking) through the woods. That turtle knew what he was doing.

Safe to say, I'll miss her when I'm alone in Canada next week...

Ellen

Most of us know the strange nature of a Facebook friend - the kind of person who could be any one of several types of people: an actual friend, an acquaintance, an enemy you want to keep tabs on, someone you met once yet felt the need to "friend request," and the list goes on.  And of course, none of these interactions happen in real time (God help us if they ever start to...yeesh), but rather days, weeks, months, or even years after you've met face-to-face (if you ever did at all).

Facebook notified me that on this day back in 2010, I became Facebook friends with a woman named Ellen, a woman who I had met many years earlier, when we weren't friends at all.  You see, back in about 2005, I was a naive college student sharing a classroom with Ellen, who appeared to be more than twice my age.  I wasn't particularly put off by her, but I certainly didn't want to be friends.  I mean, that wouldn't look cool in front of my friends, right?

In hindsight, I probably should have taken a year off before going to college, but I'm glad I didn't.  Flash forward to 2009.  For the past 3 Summers, I had been covering the Pocono race weekends for Blue Ridge Communications TV-13.  I looked forward to it every year.  Twice a Summer, I'd get to be a NASCAR fan boy disguised as a cameraman.  I'm still a closet fan boy to this day.

I also looked forward to it because of the personalities and the whole experience surrounding it.  My co-workers and I would often joke that it was like "Groundhog Day," except under much happier circumstances.  Twice a Summer, we'd reconnect with people we wouldn't normally see throughout the year.  We'd get fed three (or more) meals a day just for being members of the press, we'd usually leave with a sun tan, and I'd leave with countless stories, like the time I nearly got kicked out of the race simply for standing in the wrong place (ask me about that some other time), or the time I met one of my grandfather's idols who had been broadcasting for over 60 years.  What could be better?  And at the end of each weekend, we'd all leave saying "See you at the next one."

On one hot June day in 2009, I was in the media center taking a mid-race breather when I saw a familiar face.  I forget exactly how the exchange went, but I found myself talking with Ellen again.  Her knowing nothing of my youthful indifference to her 4 years ago, it felt like I was talking to an old friend.  I found out that she was working for the York Dispatch but now covering NASCAR full time.  We caught up briefly and she had such a great spirit about her that I wished I could have stayed longer.  Alas, there was a race going on, so I had to say "See you at the next one."

And I did.  A month later in July.  And then again the next year.  I forget if she looked me up or if Facebook recommended us, but for whatever reason, we became "friends" on this day even if we already knew each other.  I started to look forward to seeing Ellen as a regular part of every Pocono weekend, to catch up, to enjoy some racing and share more stories of course.  My stories were never as interesting as hers, of course.  I found out she had once written freelance for ESPN.  She had met countless personalities and drivers throughout the sport and had many more experiences than she could possibly have told in our brief 5-minute encounters twice a Summer, but it didn't matter, because "I'll see you at the next one."

Until one day in 2011, when I didn't see her.  Honestly, the weekends there were chock full of thousands of media folk and happenings that I soon dismissed it, thinking of it as an outlier.  Everyone needs a day off, right?  I think I even skipped a race that year.  What I didn't know was that the next year, I was going to move away, and "Groundhog Day" would be no more.  It was for the better, all things considered, but the point is that we lost touch.  Life got a little hectic from there, and right around the time I was getting ready to move, I missed something else in the shuffle - Ellen had passed.

I'm not going to pretend that it destroyed me to find this out almost a year later, when I went to wish her a happy birthday, but it did shock me.  She was only 55.  We weren't the closest of friends, but for 5 minutes twice a year (for only 2 years, but it seemed much longer), we were close enough, and those moments are etched in my memory forever.  She was one of those random special people who somehow walked in and out of my life for nearly 8 years and certainly will never be forgotten.

As I saw the notification today that we became "Facebook friends" in 2010, I checked her profile to see the history of our friendship.  In 2016, I wrote "Happy birthday, old friend.  Hope you're enjoying the races in heaven."  I think this year, I'll add "See you at the next one."

Macrodelphia

Today is a very important anniversary in my life. Today marks exactly two years since I saw Denny Waxman for my first macrobiotic consultation. People throw around cliche phrases like "the day that changed my life forever" all the time, but this truly was one of those days.

In January 2014, I had just recently returned from a cross country adventure that, let's just say, didn't go quite as I had planned. I returned to Pennsylvania very much more unsettled, distraught and broken than when I had left 6 months prior. I came home because at that point, I had nothing left in my tank and didn't know what else to do.

I took a break, as you might expect. I relaxed. I started to think about what was going to be next.

For all that I went through with my ex-girlfriend, she did turn me on to macrobiotics. Don't ask me why, but at that time, I felt like she was on to something. So, after about 2 weeks home, I decided that I wanted to take the Strengthening Health Intensive and just kind of see what would happen after that. It was perfect: a chance to be in Philadelphia for 4+ days, eat some delicious macrobiotic food, learn about this lifestyle I'd been trying to incorporate into my life for the last 9 months...it all made sense. I was also hoping to explain the sleeping difficulty and various inexplicable ailments I was encountering (for example, have you ever had a ringing in your ear that wouldn't go away?), so what did I have to lose?

The seminar ended up being canceled due to some last minute student withdrawals. I decided to see Denny for a consultation anyway. I still remember being nervous that Monday, and in hindsight, I'm not sure why. After I left with my recommendations, I was energized. I still remember immediately walking to Essene Market afterward to stock up on supplies (and spending $120ish while unemployed...yeesh!). Oddly enough, I'd end up living in that neighborhood less than 10 months later.

It wasn't all pretty from the get go. I basically started over with macrobiotics. My cooking was nowhere near what it needed to be:

Or maybe it's just the lighting...

That was the first meal I cooked on Tuesday morning. I remember it was...unbalanced. Nonetheless, I wasn't discouraged. I kept up with it, and even after just a few days, I noticed small improvements. And as I'd go forward, I'd eventually realize that I didn't have to be so damn strict about eating brown rice and miso soup every day!

About a week after my consultation, I got a call from SHI. They wanted me to help them record their seminars to build an online education program. The rest, as the saying goes, is history.

Denny and his wife Susan offered me a job at SHI. I moved to Philly in March. After months of working and studying at SHI, my health (and my cooking!) improved. I helped SHI re-build their website, among other things. I moved again (and again) to a better house with my roommate and best friend I had met on the very same day of my consultation. I found another job with Wash Cycle Laundry. I can't begin to tell you about all the wonderful people I've met and friends I've made (you know who you are). I met the girl of my dre--- ok, not quite yet. In due time, right?

And so it's only fitting that last night, after my pipes had frozen in my kitchen leaving me unable to cook, I spent the evening at dinner with Denny, Susan and my roommate, all of whom I met that day back in 2014. Full circle, or something.

It's been two years. I've had plenty of ups and downs (like that time I flew over my handlebars). I look at January 20, 2014 as the day I laid the ground work to finally live and work in a place I love. This city has challenged me in every way possible - physically, mentally, socially, spiritually, professionally, financially...and I'm still not a hundred percent sure where exactly I fit in to this mess, but I know that I want to be here. I fucking love this town!

Of course, I owe a tremendous debt of gratitude to everyone who has been there along the way. Friends, family (especially Mom and Dad), classmates, teammates, fellow musicians, co-workers, bosses, and hell, maybe even some enemies. I really can't thank all of you enough. Sitting here looking back on the last couple years, I realize that I've somehow created a nice little life for myself in the city of brotherly love. Not perfect, but nice nonetheless. And to think, it all became possible because I decided to get a consultation from this macro guy on a whim...

Happy Wednesday, everyone.

Monday's Gone

"Hey man, mind if I bum a smoke?" I asked my friend Max just before we left the field tonight.

I don't smoke much any more except for special occasions: weddings, holidays, reacquainting with old friends, etc. Tonight seemed like a special occasion. 3rd & Girard had just lost its final game of the season.

Why was a loss a special occasion? Losing sucks, especially when you feel like you could have won...and the fact that we felt like we could have won says a lot about what's happened with this team over the last 3 months.

Let me backtrack a bit: One cold, Winter night - it might have been a Thursday, I'm not sure - my roommate and I were at 3rd & Girard playing pool. For one reason or another, Max was there (likely it was an Open Mic Night that turned into casual conversation over hockey and/or football, but who knows?) and we got onto the subject of playing competitive sports. He and Freddy (the bartender) happened to mention that there was a bar & restaurant league, and the bar was always looking for new people.

Tipsy Steve (I wasn't drunk - I never get drunk. Ha...) jumped at the idea, and surprisingly, so did my roommate. I mean, why the hell not? We talked a lot more about it once Fred and Max both realized we were serious, and even after Max happened to mention that we didn't win a single game last year, we weren't discouraged. He also said how much fun he had just being a part of the team, on the field, in the bar after games, and most of all, wearing a cool t-shirt every week - this dude's a hell of a salesman.

Despite knowing going in that the odds were stacked against us, Max was right. We struggled all season for various reasons, but the main point is, it was fun. I found myself looking forward to the games every single week, and over the course of the season, I noticed something: we got better. We even won a couple games. YEAH!

Flash forward to tonight. The stars weren't aligned and we didn't have enough women to field a full defense (league rules specify you need three, and we only had two, despite having four or five consistently throughout the year - fuck you Monday). Playing short one player, it's absolutely amazing that we only lost by five runs. In reality, it could have been a lot worse, which says a lot about how much better this team has gotten. In the first month of the season, we would have been easily 15-runned by the end of the third inning.

We really have come a long way, and all of us came together from different backgrounds. Some people really enjoy softball and they're actually pretty darn good at it, others just wanted the chance to play. Some just wanted to have an excuse to forget about work or the rest of their life for a few hours a week, others just love the outdoors. We were all there for different reasons, but nonetheless, we were together.

So tonight we lost - all due respect to our opponents because they still had to put runs on the board - but it didn't feel all that bad. Disappointing, for sure, but I stood outside the right field fence tonight with Max feeling grateful that I was a part of this season. Grateful that, barring something stupid or unforeseen, I'll be a part of next season. And the season after that. And...well, you get the idea.

Max and I talked for another minute or so. We said goodbye and I hopped on to my bike to make the 3ish mile trek home. I rounded the corner on 6th Street and heard music playing: Tuesday's Gone by Lynyrd Skynyrd. I looked up to my right, and a man in the second story window where the music was playing calmly affirmed "Yeeeeup!" Having a good time while listening to a sad song - seemed appropriate.

I finished the cigarette, paused briefly to throw out the butt, and rode on down the line...thinking.

Thinking about writing this blog post as soon as I got home, of course. Thinking about all the new friends I've made. Thinking about all the good times I've had with them. Thinking about how strangely good it felt to be sore on a random Wednesday morning. Thinking about nothing. Thinking about everything. And, as a true Philadelphia sports fan, thinking about next year.

Cheers, 3G. Let's do it again.

New Year, New Adventures

I've decided to start a new blog/photostream. Follow me, I'll follow you. Bam.

If you like this blog, don't worry. It's not going anywhere. I'm just taking a break for a while...and as you can tell, it's been a while since I've published anything here as it is.

Cheers!