Yesterday

Yesterday was December 15th, and I realized this morning that this marked the tenth anniversary of my father's death. This is the first time in ten years that I did not remember the anniversary on the anniversary. I teared up while thinking about that, and thinking about my Dad.

Certain moments in life are burned precisely into my memory, and this is one of them. I was puttering around the little bungalow house I rented when I first moved to Dallas, finishing up my Christmas cards and chatting on the phone with a friend of mine from law school. My call waiting beeped and after clicking over, I learned it was my brother. I told my friend he sounded upset and that I needed to go, then curled up on my dark green-cushioned pappasan chair to talk with him. And then my brother told me that my Dad had not been heard from in a few days, and had missed an appointment with a friend, and that they had found him dead in his house. I cried, out of shock and grief and regret and horror, at what my little brother had just encountered.

I was 29 years old and ill-equipped to deal with such a loss, though I realize more mature people than me have done so, and far more gracefully. That night, my friend who was my assistant at the firm spent the night on my couch so I would not be alone. The next six months are literally a fog in my memory, a time in which I couldn't see more than a few inches into the future and had a hard time even identifying the faces around me. I remember feeling like I was walking around with my tender inner self exposed for all the world to see.

The ten years since that day have included some of the other lowest times of my life. There was the fire at that house that nearly took Kip's life and destroyed many of the items I had just brought back after emptying my father's home. There were difficult work situations that remain undiscussed even with the closest of my friends. My little brother will not speak to me, for reasons I do not understand. I have ended certain friendships abruptly when they caused the least bit of angst. And, easiest to see, is the sixty pounds of weight gain which I wear today like a billboard, a billboard that announces that I don't think much of myself, and that you shouldn't think much of me, either.

I am my father's daughter. After his death, I found tucked in a book, written in his distinctive handwriting, a list of what he called "Points - negative - need to work on." Every item on the list is one I could have written about myself. At the top of that list is "temper", which is appropriate because I have spent the last ten years flashing at anyone unlucky enough to cross my path the anger and resentment of a little girl who lost her daddy and is determined to make someone pay for that loss.

Today, I choose to put that anger and resentment aside. Our time here is finite--my friend F's recent unexpected death served as yet another vivid reminder of that fact. While some who know me might say that I am already a person who seizes life because I freely indulge my interest in travel, photography, baseball and the like, I know I haven't been brave when it comes to the important things. I know I have permitted myself to wallow in grief and anger and that it has held me back, from small things like the infectious laughter for which I was once known to big things like the mark I want to leave in the world, and whether I want to be a parent. That changes today, and I'm writing about it here to hold myself accountable for living the kind of life my father wanted for me, and that I want for me.

A favorite photo of my Dad:

I give thanks.

I am thankful to be alive, with the mental, physical and other means to make choices for myself.

I am thankful for loved ones.



I am thankful for the opportunity to travel and see beautiful sights and interesting people.



I am thankful for all of you, my internet friends.

Wishing you a Thanksgiving filled with joy, gratitude and, of course, hope.

The effect we have on those we meet . . .

I was reminded today, yet again, of how powerful an effect we can have on those we meet, no matter how briefly. On Friday night, I ran through the Oklahoma City "International" Airport, desperate to catch the last flight back to Dallas. Arriving at my gate just in time for the scheduled flight, but early for the now-delayed flight, I paused to catch my breath. A full-blown asthma attack ensued and a young woman kindly offered me a cough drop, which did help me feel better, as well as less noisy.

The young woman's kindness reminded me of someone I met at that very gate a few years back, also on a busy Friday night at the airport. My flight was seriously delayed that night, and I found myself seated in the gate area near a guy about my age, with yellow hair, a twinkle in his eye and some of the most noticeable Southwestern jewelry I have ever seen on a man. His name was "F" and he was a motivational speaker from rural New Mexico. Before our plane took off, I learned about his family ranch and the gnomes he used to torment his mother and how excited he was about the house he was buying in the big city of Albuquerque. We exchanged contact information and I made a note to myself to look F up the next time I was in New Mexico, because his enthusiasm for life was so contagious that I wanted to be exposed to it again. (This was the same trip to Oklahoma City in which I had the epiphany in which I realized how unhappy I was with my life and in which I vowed to work toward changes that would bring the peace and satisfaction I sought.)

F and I exchanged a few emails afterward, and from time to time I would think of him and wonder what new project he was tackling, drawing upon what I remembered of his passion for life to try to ignite my own. When a friend convinced me to join Facebook this year, I was pleased to find not only that Frank was on Facebook, but that he had moved to Dallas. We became Facebook "friends" and I meant to ask him to coffee one day, but had not yet taken the time to do that.

Tonight, I logged onto Facebook and was shocked to see a link to a photo captioned, "R.I.P., F", apparently posted by one of his friends. I have now pieced together that F and his dear friend M, a married mother of two young children, had gone back to Albuquerque to finish moving the last of Frank's things to Dallas. They both died on Friday from carbon monoxide poisoning due to a malfunctioning heater in the house where they stayed. The number and nature of the posts left this weekend on F's Facebook page by the many loved ones and friends he leaves behind attest to the accuracy of my assessment that he was an incredibly special person.

Those of you who have been reading this blog for a while may know or have guessed that I am not a very religious person. Writing through these unexpected tears tonight, I have to say it is just this type of completely senseless event that makes me ever more sure that there certainly cannot be any sort of divine intervention in the world, because a world without that fine person in it is not nearly the world it was before. I don't understand this, not one bit. I did not know F well at all, but knowing that he was out there, knowing that his kind of spirit was swirling around not very far away, meant something to me. I'm not doing a good job of explaining it here, but trying to explain it helps just a little.

What I wanted to say when I began writing is that the effect F had on me reminded me of how powerful an effect we can have on the people we meet. I do not fool myself into thinking I will have a lasting effect on any of the great institutions that change people's lives, as it does not appear that a seat on the U.S. Supreme Court or anything like it is in the cards for me. But I want to live my life in such a way as to have a positive, rather than negative, effect on the days of those I meet.

Here is a younger F, with his friend M:

The kindness of strangers . . .

Last weekend, I went to my college homecoming. As so often happens, a trip I wasn't sure I wanted to make turned out to be really wonderful. Here's one thing that happened:

A friend and I stopped by the campus bookstore, where I found a backpack I really loved. I wasn't sure it would fit my laptop, and inquired about the return policy. The shopkeeper said if he rung up the purchase, I would only be able to get store credit if I returned the backpack. So he suggested an alternative: that I take the pack without paying for it, and either return it or pay for it the next day. Mind you, this man had never met me before. I insisted that he take my business card so he would have a record of who took the pack. It actually fit my laptop and camera perfectly and returned the next day to pay for it.

I was really touched by the level of trust displayed by this storekeeper. My college is in a fairly small town, but not that small. The faith the storekeeper showed was simple and sweet and beautiful.

Tonight.

As a little girl, I loved the night before Christmas almost more than Christmas Day. I would sneak out to the living room, curl up under the glow of the twinkling lights on our tree, inhale the piney scent and dream of what the next day would bring. On Christmas Eve, if felt as if all was right in the world, or was about to be.

Tonight feels like the best Christmas Eve I have experienced in my life. I have supported Barack Obama for more than a year now, and he has shared with me the privilege of being a part of his historic campaign for the Presidency. Because of Senator Obama, I saw the glint in the eye of a New Hampshire primary voter who loved talking with a Texan about the issues that matter to him. Because of Senator Obama, I experienced the satisfaction of recruiting more than a hundred precinct captains in Dallas, Texas--that (former) bastion of Republicanism. Because of Senator Obama, I have met some of the most talented and dedicated and passionate volunteers I have seen, or may ever see, in my lifetime.

Because of Senator Obama, I had tears in my eyes last summer while watching little African-American boys splash in a pool on a hot Virginia day. Why the tears? I was dreaming of the day soon to come when they will see a man in the White House who looks just like them, and know that they, too, could be there one day.

Our work is not yet finished. But please pause tonight to savor this. This work has been valuable. We are about to taste the fruits of it. But hasn't the journey been splendid as well?

To tomorrow . . . and hope . . . and change . . . and to us all.



And now, on November 4, 2008, here's to President-Elect Obama: nicely done, sir.

Hertz has the biggest cojones ever!

I reserved a mid-size car to pick up in Wisconsin and return tomorrow to Minneapolis. So I was surprised when they told me at the rental counter that I would instead be driving a gas-guzzling jeep SUV for hundreds of miles. When I asked why, the very honest counter guy said, "Because we need to get this Jeep to Minneapolis." I asked if Hertz would be buying the additional gas I would burn in exchange for me doing this favor for the company, and he looked at me as if I was crazy and changed his story to this being the only car they had. Seeing ten sets of keys hung up on the wall behind him, I asked for a manager and with head-spinning speed, found myself with a different car to drive without even having to speak to the manager.

The nerve!

UPDATE: Welcome to the 10 Hertz Corporation visitors from Oklahoma City who have reviewed this blog posting without comment or apology (yes, I have a Site Meter and am capable of reading it)! If you are wondering how the rental was, please see above. Also, the car I was provided was filthy, with mud stains and dirt all over the driver's side carpet and the inside of the driver's side door. Because I was already late after having to haggle to get the car I had reserved, and because I only discovered this after lugging all my stuff out to the parking lot, I just took the car as it was. But given the premium a person pays to rent from Hertz, I believe the cars should be pristine and the service impeccable. I got neither.

Ah, those great Americans . . .

Making calls for Barack Obama to Florida tonight, I stumbled into this exchange:

Me: Hi, is Cindy home, please?
Male: Who's calling?
Me: This is Lisa, a volunteer with the Barack Obama Campaign for Change
Male: Brock who?
Me: Barack Obama
Male: That Black guy? [Laughing, he slams down the phone.]

I know it takes all kinds, but it depresses me to know these people share my citizenship.

In this economy . . .

why wouldn't you dress Caribou Barbie in a $150,000 wardrobe?

Via Politico.com

I realize this is a small problem in the grand scheme of things . . .

but I find it highly annoying that the person who cleans my house ate 1/2 the leftovers I was counting on for dinner and randomly unplugged wires related to my internet access, causing me to lose an hour of my limited evening free time trying to figure out why it wasn't working and getting it reconnected. WHAT WOULD A PERSON DISCONNECT WIRES THAT ARE MINDING THEIR OWN BUSINESS IN THE CORNER????!

Yes, it's a new layout.

I was tres bored with the old one. Hope you like it!

This is totally awesome.

Watch it!

I am tiring of the struggle.

I don't know how to get out of this rut I have fallen into. It feels like I'm about to embark upon a series of goodbyes . . . my grandmother's boyfriend, who is like my last living grandparent, my beloved dog Kip. Neither of these is imminent, but I can feel them coming and I deeply dread these losses.

Perhaps even more imminent, if less deeply emotional, is some sort of decision about my job. I am so incredibly bored that it is all I can do to get there by Noon each day. This results in me staying until Midnight and that isn't any recipe for having a life. I am having a very hard time focusing and it is hard to see an end in sight.

If it wasn't for my dogs, I think I would quit my job and head overseas somewhere to figure out what it is that I want and need. I know shouldn't use the dogs as an excuse . . . there is no reason one has to find oneself in Europe, to be sure. Here's the truth: I'm just afraid. To quote Freddy Rumsen from my beloved "Mad Men," "Without this job to go to every day, who am I?"

It's odd: between Facebook and other random events, lots of people from my past have been coming back into my life lately. I'm not sure why this is, but it is so prevalent as to seem not very coincidental. I don't know what this means, but hope it will become clear sometime soon. I have actually been a little afraid that it is the equivalent of a person's life flashing before her eyes just before it ends.

I needed to write this here, tonight. The tears I shed while typing provided catharsis.

A really great man died this week.

He was from Dallas. I think it's important to mention that, because sometimes I disparage Dallas here. Who would have thought that one of this country's greatest patriots and civil libertarians would be born here?

His name was Barefoot Sanders. The New York Times obit has many details that will interest you, but the one I always knew, from the moment I moved to this city, was that Judge Sanders spent years of his life working to make the Dallas public schools serve the needs of all students, not just the white ones.

Mazel tov, Judge.

This blog has not been abandoned.

But its owner is in Indianapolis, for a work trip and visit with friends. Will write again soon!

I will confess

that I was a little worried about Sarah Palin. But then I saw this video:



There is a reason this segment of her interview aired on September 11th. It is a total disaster! I had to watch a few times to be sure this wasn't a spoof video, like the one I link below. Most significantly, McCain wants to put someone a heartbeat away from the presidency who doesn't know what the "Bush Doctrine" is.

Good lord.

Leaked Sarah Palin video!

Right here:



Courtesy of Mandy Stadtmiller's site, staring Sara Benincasa.

So, you're still single?

I recently joined Facebook after what felt like years of pressure from my friend S (but probably was only months of pressure). While the site has been exactly the time suck I expected, it has also brought me in touch with long-lost friends I may never have otherwise stumbled upon, and that has been nice.

One of those newly back-in-touch friends is a guy from home who I dated the summer before leaving for college. We exchanged a few emails in the course of catching up and all was well until he asked this question: "So, you're still single?" I felt completely tongue-tied. It does show I'm single on my Facebook page, so I wasn't sure if he was just double-checking, or wondering if that means I'm not married, but dating someone, or if he was really asking why I'm still single or if I'm single now, but am divorced or widowed. I think it's most likely that he was just asking and didn't notice it on my profile, so I answered simply and with a joke. But I'm a little embarrassed that this was such a difficult question for me! Weird.

39

Ever since I started caring about my age, odd-numbered birthdays have been toughest for me. I'm not sure why. So you can imagine that this birthday is a doozy for me, given the combo of odd-numberdom and it being my last-thirtysomething year.

I had planned to do a good bit of work yesterday, but instead was quiet and thoughtful. I tried to live this rare day off as I hope to live the coming year: with kindness to myself and others and attention to what is needed most. Most of all, this year I want to build in time to think and listen to myself, as it is hard to do what is best when one does not make the time to know what is best.

I took the dogs for a morning walk at the lake, and they were delighted. Note to self: do this more often.

I finally joined Calorie King online again. It is a sane way of eating/exercise awareness that requires no meetings or point-counting whatsoever, and I just know it will help me reach my weight loss goal this year. I have already planned my exercise for the week on there and I will keep my plans! Now if only they will come out with an iPhone-friendly version, my life will be complete.

I saw a movie I wanted to see (American Teen-eh), ate some lovely sushi and listened to a Cubs loss. But I also planned a Cubs/grandfather trip that I am very much looking forward to for later this month, so there's that. This year's volunteer obligations have crowded out my typically fun travel schedule. More fun travel is in order.

And I read. This year must include more reading. For pleasure.

One thing I did not get a chance to do yesterday was take photographs. This has been on hold while I straighten out my photo storage and backup issues, but I must resume my photography dabblings soon, as I have missed that little Nikon.

So there it is. A roadmap for my year.

What was McCain thinking in choosing Sarah Palin as VP-wannabe?

This video actually reveals McCain's thoughts:



Via the site called "VPILF"

For a girl without television,

I'm awfully addicted to Mad Men. I think the course of our romance went as follows:

1. read New York Times story about Matthew Weiner, the creator of Mad Men
2. watch Season 1, Episode 1, of Mad Men online
3. buy all of Season 1 on iTunes, patiently waiting overnight for all of the episodes to download
4. watch all episodes on my iPhone, while driving, at work, at home, etc.
5. fall in love with Mad Men

So now my friends the Bs and I have a standing Sunday appointment to watch the show, which is nice, because I enjoy hanging out with them and this keeps us from letting weeks slip by in between hang-out sessions.

This week's episode rocked my world, and I can't wait to watch it again tomorrow! (I pre-purchased Season 2, so each episode is downloaded to my iTunes early on the morning after it airs.) This is one of those shows one must watch multiple times in order to catch everything.

Joe Biden: Our Nation's Next VP!!!

As the exclamation points indicate, I could not be happier about this choice by Obama. I love Biden's background and experience and am amused (though also sometimes anxious) about his directness. He scores higher on the ACLU scorecard than any of this year's other Democratic Party candidates (excepting Dennis Kucinich), with an 86% lifetime score and an even higher rating this year, when so many crucial votes relating to civil liberties took place. Although he voted in favor of the war in Iraq, he has repented in a way certain other candidates never did.

This will either be really wonderful (as in "Cubs win the World Series" level wonderful) or really terrible (as in "8 more years of Bush" terrible). But it won't be boring.

Want to know more about Joe Biden? Check out this Texas Monthly interview with him, before either Barack Obama or Hillary Clinton entered the Presidential race. You'll need to click the play arrow on the player to make the video start. (Via Burnt Orange Report)

For other reactions to the Biden choice, see Hope Reborn's excellent collection at Daily Kos.

From Politico, a "Joe Biden for Dummies" collection of background stories.

And my favorite of today's stories: a Washington Post article about Biden as the king of comebacks.

This is one of the coolest things I have seen in a while.

It's a senior thesis project in art school.

As with all of the cool things, this is via Kottke.

Sorry for the blog silence . . . Obama campaign demands + work.

"Where the head should have been, there was only a wild foliage of ferns and flowers."

From Eat, Pray, Love, by Elizabeth Gilbert, which I am now reading:

He showed me a sketch he'd drawn once during mediation. It was an androgynous human figure, standing up, hands clasped in prayer. But this figure had four legs, and no head. Where the head should have been, there was only a wild foliage of ferns and flowers. There was a small, smiling face drawn over the heart.

"To find the balance you want," Ketut spoke through his translator, "this is what you must become. You must keep your feet grounded so firmly on the earth that it's like you have four legs, instead of two. That way, you can stay in the world. But you must stop looking at the world through your head. You must look through your heart, instead. That way, you will know God."

This passage struck me squarely in the face. I have found the practice of law to be a profession for which my perfectionistic attention to detail, analytical bent and thirst for justice are uniquely suited. However, I now believe the practice of law also brings out the worst aspects of my character and vanishes the best aspects of my character. I mean, how many people associate with good lawyers the following qualities?: adventurous entertaining free spirited independentstylish wacky (These qualities having been attributed to me by some friends in a silly Facebook application we enjoy).

Actually, on reading this, I realize that those characteristics would be highly coveted in a lawyer, as they suggest a person who takes creative approaches, someone with whom people might enjoy working, a woman who doesn't take herself too seriously. Is it possible that I have been choosing to squash down my better instincts, in favor of the least attractive (and least successful) ones?

"I have crossed some line some place."

There is a line in one of my most favorite movies ever, Broadcast News, that has been on my mind lately: "I have crossed some line some place. I'm beginning to repel people I'm trying to seduce."

But for me, it doesn't stop there . . . I am repelling people I'm NOT trying to seduce as well. Since I began spending so much time alone, I have wondered if the few social graces I once had would suffer. And perhaps they have!

Case in point:

This past week, I was at my neighborhood Starbucks, inside, buying my venti nonfat latte. I returned to my car and saw someone had parked about 3 inches away from my passenger's side door. One of my pet peeves is people who are too lazy to park in a sufficiently large parking space, who instead park too close to the car next to them and leave a door ding. I walked around to the passenger side of my car to see if the person had left a door ding, and at that very moment, the person returned to her big-ass car. I tried to sound light as I said (to the very tiny woman), "I was just trying to figure out how you managed to park so close and get out of your car," and she basically looked at me, shook her head and snorted as if I was insane.

This is just one of many, many examples. I worry that I have a greater than average number of friendships that have ended in total silence. Is it possible that I adore Rainn Wilson's character Dwight on The Office because I am, like him, socially "awkward"? I fear I am no longer fit to live among other humans.

Please help me understand

why it is that China is permitted to host an Olympics, given their opposition to all we hold dear, in general, and freedom, specifically? As explained in this story, China has now revoked the visa of an American speedskating gold medalist because he has been outspoken on Darfur. So, after years of work, he will miss the Games. This follows China's going back on its promises regarding open access to the internet during the Games, es explained here.

I'm boycotting this Olympics, though they won't feel it, given my usual practice of non-TV-watching. But this feels like a cosmic joke on the universe, and that is all I have the power to do.

Things I should have done today:

1. Work
2. Get a pedicure
3. Organize my hard drive so I can get my photos caught up and backed up
4. Work out on the treadmill
   

Things I did do today:

1. Played with my Facebook page, spending time joining groups like "I judge you when you use poor grammar" and listing every book on my shelf as a have-read or -want-to-read on my "Bookshelf"
   
2. Listened to the Cubs game
3. Ate ginger lemon creme cookies
4. Moved all my songs to my iPhone
5. Searched for a reasonably priced first edition of Jerome Holtzman's "No Cheering in the Press Box"
6. Spent 25 minutes testing different first digits for the code of my Amazon certificate, because the first digit was worn off the receipt as a result of my carrying it around in my wallet for such a long time
   

Hmmm . . . maybe this is why I never get things done!

My favorite photo thus far from this Cubs season of 2008

This is Carlos Zambrano, Cubs pitcher. On his back is Mike Fontenot, Cubs backup second baseman, also known as "Little Babe Ruth." You can see why . . .

Photo by Nuccio DiNuzzo, Chicago Tribune.

UPDATE: Here is the story of this picture--it's part of an every-game routine.

Not much has made me laugh out loud lately . . .

. . . but this did:

Introduction

Hi, I just moved to Dallas from South Louisiana, and I was afraid that I wouldn't find any fellow Republicans to share my concerns and thoughts with. I am so glad to see that there is a group dedicated to those very things!

I have been perusing meet-up groups in Dallas and this was the post by a 30-something woman on the Dallas Republican Party Meetup Group site. She didn't think she would find Republicans in Dallas? That's like saying she thought the rodeo would be short on manure!

On a lighter note . . .

I bring to you this Justin Timberlake gem:

Timberlake
by bsap11

I cannot hold back any longer: DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO

Seriously. You will experience less pain if you pluck a fork from your cutlery drawer, heat it in the oven until it is very, very hot, dip it in jalapeno juice and then repeatedly poke yourself in the eye with it.

Last April, I bought a Sony Vaio notebook computer--the SZ440--that cost multiple thousands of dollars. I invested in portability and souped-up speed and memory so I would have a computer that travels well and would hold up under my frequent use.

Here's what I got instead:

• 10 months into my ownership of the computer, it experienced a sudden, completely unwarned, total hard drive meltdown (approximate time on phone with Sony about this: 4.2 hours)
  
• An onsite tech replaced the hard drive, but the data is still unrecoverable from the original hard drive
  
• just under 12 months into my ownership of the computer, the fan became freakishly loud and stopped cooling the computer (approximate time on phone with Sony about this: 1.2 hours)
• The onsite tech sent to repair the fan managed to somehow burn out the hard drive while repairing the fan, and was so incompetent he wasn't even able to reassemble the notebook without pieces bulging out of the back (approximate time on phone with Sony about this: 3.8 hours)
• Sony then insisted I send the computer to them for repair--they installed another new hard drive and, presumably, a fan, then sent the lemon back to me
• Less than 2 months after that repair, my laptop experienced its third hard drive meltdown
• Sony refused to permit onsite repair and insisted I send the laptop back to them--I wanted an exchange, but they said there was no way they would exchange it, so we wrangled over that topic for quite some time (approximate time on phone with Sony about this: 2.2 hours)
• I returned the laptop to Sony and--miraculously--they proclaimed after 2 days that they would exchange it for an SZ680. However, they have had my old Vaio for 10 days and haven't ordered the exchange computer, haven't shipped the exchange computer, haven't provided me with its specs, as I have repeatedly requested, and have not returned to me the hard drive from my old computer (so I can try to retrieve data from it, including the photographs of my mother's first major league baseball game and first trip to Wrigley Field) or provided me with any information on when I will receive it (approximate time on phone with Sony about this so far: 1.9 hours)

The lesson?

DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. DO NOT BUY A SONY VAIO. v

i am in love

Note: I'm sorry I have been absent . . . my Vaio melted down yet again and has returned to San Diego (yet again) for servicing. I will confess that at the moment of this latest meltdown, I had unclean thoughts regarding what I would do to Sony if it was standing in front of me. Not sexy unclean thoughts--the other kind. So here I am typing on my trusty "old" Vaio that--thank goodness--I kept as a backup. If I had not just dropped a ridiculous amount of money on the new Vaio one year ago, I would have already given up and purchased an Apple notebook. Anyway, I have been computer-impaired and am trying to catch up now. So, on to my new post:

***********************************************************************************

Not with a boy, silly! With my new iPhone! Yes, I have been freed from the chains of the Palm Treo, stepping into the light while blinking and wondering how to live on this other side that is free of technical errors, user unfriendliness, my phone dialing people from my purse at the precise moment when I am talking about them, etc.

I did not suffer through yesterday's craziness of the "Launch Day." I had an early (7:30 am--yikes!) doctor's appointment and afterward, thought I would just hop on over to the AT&T store and take my place in line. Yeah, right . . . so, seeing 80+ people in line at a tiny store that would not open for another hour and a half, I turned around, walked back to my car and drove to work. When I read about how Apple's system responded to thousands of new log-ons in 22 countries, I felt relieved that I had been spared that agony. But hearing that many stores would receive new shipments this morning, I thought I might see how my luck ran with a Saturday morning purchase attempt.

Despite my being an early-morning-challenged person, I sprang from my bed at 7:00 am today, dressed, popped into Starbucks and was in line at the AT&T store near me by around 7:40 am. I figured either there would be no one or I would have lots of company--I was wrong on both counts, as I was the third person in line. By 8 am there were 13 of us in line, and I'm guessing there were around 40 in line by the time the store opened at 10 am. Just before the opening, the store manager assured us that at that point, there were iPhones for everyone in line, so long as we did not want the white model. But I have jumped ahead in the story . . . here is the story of how my iPhone and I got together:

I had come prepared with a book to read: Ann Patchett's "Truth and Beauty," which I read and loved before and wanted to revisit. Concrete sidewalk notwithstanding, I thoroughly enjoyed the all-too-rare experience of uninterrupted reading time with no pressure to be somewhere else.

The store is in a strip mall near the lake, and its parking lot was really busy early this morning, with lots of people who had apparently taken part in a group walk or training run of some kind. I tried not to think about what it meant that I chose to be the person sitting on the sidewalk, in line to buy a phone at 7:30 am, rather than the person walking next to a beautiful lake. Some of the runners/walkers passing by looked at our line as if we were wild animals of a species they had never seen before, and others wished us luck at buying our phones.

Speaking of a different species, a 20-something girl wearing a hot pink t-shirt, jeans and metallic flip flops walked up just before 10 am and appeared confused by the line, and surprised she couldn't just walk into the store. She kept looking from the locked door to the line, and back at the locked door. Finally, she asked the first guy in line what was going on. He looked briefly stunned, then said, "The iPhone? We are all waiting to buy the iPhone." She gazed blankly at him, and it appeared she still did not understand but did not want to admit it. She paced back and forth a few times, then left.

Shortly before the store opened, an off-duty police officer arrived for his shift. He stopped at the front of the line and told us, "Now, I'm about to walk over to that doughnut store to pick up breakfast for these people, and I don't want any comments when I get back." We looked at him innocently and being the smart aleck that I am, I said, "What kind of comment could we possibly make in that scenario?" He laughed uncomfortably and we all tried not to look when he returned with a large box of doughnuts.

One woman joined our line with a baby, which seemed odd. Thankfully, the baby was relatively quiet. The guy to my right is apparently some sort of technology guy, as he told his friend who called from London that he had helped build the 3G network the iPhone uses. He also provided more than an hour of tech support to his London friend, sometimes so enthusiastically that I was forced to subtly plug my ears in order to maintain focus on the book I was reading. The girl to my left was studying for the MCAT exam; she had taken her parents to the airport at 5am and thought she might as well wait in an iPhone line because she was up anyway. A father and daughter duo to her left fetched their laptop from their car and watched a Transformers movie on it, with him seeming more intensely involved in it.

The MCAT girl saved a spot for me when, seeing all the spaces left by the departing walkers and runners, I stepped away briefly to move my car closer. But I needn't have asked her to do that, as everyone respected the sanctity of the line and one could freely leave and regain his/her spot at will.

And then, in the blink of an eye, I had been "pre-qualified" and let in the door. There were glitches in the cash register I was assigned to, but I was still out of there by 10:25 or so. Whenever I started to feel annoyed by the glitches, I dove back into my book.

The rest of the day?
(1) car wash/detail--badly needed
(2) Cubs game
(3) iPhone setup, which included an iTunes upgrade, the loading of unloaded CDs and downloading of 2000+ songs to the iPhone

What a wonderful weekend in Chicago!

Lunch at Italian Village
Millenium Park
Taste of Chicago
Vance Kelly at B.L.U.E.S.

Lunch at Schaller's Pump
Cubs v. Sox at Sox Park
Dinner from Taste of Chicago
Drinking wine while listening to folk music at Millenium Park
Sushi snack

Brunch at Bongo Room in Wicker Park
Failed attempt to visit Chicago Botanic Garden
Successful visit to Lincoln Park Zoo
Coffee
Airport
Cubs v. Sox at O'Hare

And lots of time spent with friends . . .

Small World!

Phil brought up this fun topic, which brought back two nice memories for me . . . the "small world phenomenon. Go check out his take on it, then come back here!

My two small world stories, both from the trip I took with 4 friends in the summer of '94 after taking the bar exam:

(1) Our youth hostel in Interlaken, Switzerland had a bar in the basement (it's the infamous Balmer's). We were there socializing one night and a guy walked past my friend Amy, immediately catching her attention. Turns out, they went to school together back in Houston, from elementary through high school. The guy was working in Bern and happened to choose that night to go to Balmer's to hear some American accents that would remind him of home.

(2) Our adorable hotel (more like little apartment rooms built into a hill) on the island of Ios, Greece hosted drinks on its patio each night to encourage the guests to meet each other and hang out (you may be sensing a theme). A guy at one night's social hour looked incredibly familiar to me, but I could not place him. We started talking and realized we had studied for the bar exam every day for several weeks that summer, at tables in the Rice Business School Library that were right next to each other.

********************************

In yet another example of how the world is becoming smaller, I will actually meet "Jenn from the blog" this weekend in Chicago, in real life! I will be there with my friend G from college, and I did struggle a bit with how exactly to explain to him, a "non-blogger", that we would be meeting someone this weekend who I consider a friend, but have never seen or talked to "live." He seems to understand, and we're looking forward to hanging out with Jenn!

Remember when Bush ran as a "compassionate conservative"?

I don't think the Texas GOP is trying to sell that brand anymore, as evidenced by their platform.

I literally had chills while reading it.

Crickets

Either you guys really disagree with my last post, or you are off barbequeing.

What have I been up to? Mainly, organizing for Obama and swimming, swimming, oh so hard through the mass of work I have to do (at my paying job). Next weekend, I will travel to Chicago to see my beloved Cubs take on the White Sox at the enemy's park . . . I am sure the series will be scintillating, given that the Cubs swept them this weekend at Wrigley Field. Also, will attend Taste of Chicago and various other fun things.

I need to work out 2x per day this week (and thereafter). Please encourage me!

Thinking about what is important

Like so many others, I was shocked and saddened by the death of Tim Russert. A talented and likeable guy, his life ended unexpectedly when he was at the top of his game. He was too young to go and both those who knew him and those who didn't are pained by his loss. Tim Russert's news colleagues and political friends have mourned publicly, in tributes on the Today show and Meet the Press and many other news vehicles. For hour upon hour, they have cried, laughed and otherwise remembered Tim Russert and what he meant in their lives. It seemed appropriate, until . . .

I saw these pictures, and others, of the Iowa floods. My perspective tilted. I had not realized how severe the flooding was. I had not realized how many homes were displaced, literally and figuratively. And I started to wonder: why we aren't hearing more about the Iowa floods? Why aren't people doing more to help those affected by the Iowa floods? Why are we not hearing hour upon hour of coverage of the Iowa floods?

I also wondered why we are not using Tim Russert's death as an opportunity to prevent others from losing their fathers and sons from heart disease at a ridiculously young age? This article is one of the first I have seen that focuses on the health issue. But overall, not a lot has been said about that.

Life is for the living, as they say. I certainly realize the importance of mourning and have done enough of that here regarding the loss of my own father. But the public airwaves are for the public's benefit, aren't they? And isn't the greatest public benefit one that looks forward . . . to flood relief and health hearts?

Just my two cents.

Happy Father's Day

Here is a nice story about a father's secret, and his daughter's Father's Day gift to make it all right.



Happy Father's Day, Dad.

I've been thinking about buying an Apple laptop

the next time I need a laptop and this story makes me want to do that even more.

In short: Girl's Apple laptop is stolen. Girl uses Apple technology to track down the guys who stole her laptop. Cool!

Overheard at the White House gate

as I walked by on Sunday afternoon:

"Is George home? Can I help him pack?"

--From a very funny (and smart) citizen, talking to one of the guards.

Please do not put your feet on the wall.

I arrived early today for a conference at the federal courthouse in Oklahoma City. While I waited for my meeting to begin, I explored a bit, having stumbled upon an "attorneys' lounge." I was curious about what would find in the lounge. In addition to a comfortable-looking leather couch, a conference table and a telephone, there was this:



I should add that the cab driver who took me to the courthouse, a 20- or 30-something guy, is of the opinion that the current President of our country is "doing a pretty good job."

To the person from Korea

who arrived at this blog as a result of a search for the phrase "why Bush won": many of us in the U.S. are still wondering exactly that.

Not what I expected

This afternoon, I stopped by a lovely neighborhood restaurant to pick up two gift certificates. I always imagined the chef and staff of a restaurant like this one--which is one of the best in Dallas--to dine before their shift on a simpler version of the food they will later serve to their guests. So imagine my surprise to see a bag of Ruffles potato chips on the white tablecloth in front of the guys in chef's jackets!

Do me a favor?

Hey, guys, I have a tiny favor to ask.

The City of Dallas is choosing a new name for a road that runs near downtown. They have come up with a pretty lame list of choices, with only one really good choice: Cesar Chavez Blvd. They are conducting a public interest survey to choose the new name, and I would LOVE LOVE LOVE it if you would please vote in favor of my choice, Cesar Chavez Blvd.

Will you help? Just go here and vote on the "public interest survey" phrase.

Thank you!

A peek inside the Obama campaign

This is a really great article about the people at the top of the Obama campaign. There are many reasons I support Senator Obama, but a big one is the skill he has shown in running a drama-free, solvent, effective campaign.

Finally, a way to explain it.

Sometimes it is difficult to explain to others what it is like living in Texas. I grew up in Illinois, where we don't even know what the state flag looks like, for goodness' sake. In our lovely little flatland state, we didn't talk about religion or even know what religion, if any, our elected officials practiced.

Not so in Texas. As my California friends who recently visited can attest, one cannot turn around without seeing a Texas flag. And religion? It is mandatory for public officials, apparently. This is the "farewell video" the mayor of Sugarland, Texas (a Houston suburb) gave his employees after losing his reelection effort . . . watch it and weep (or laugh):



Via Susan at Kiss My Big Blue Butt.

UPDATE:

This story also provides another example of something that could only happen in Texas: naked mom accidentally shoots self after argument with son.

Sad day for progressive people.

One will always remember where he/she was when X [insert historic/memorable event] occurred. X varies depending on the generation. For my generation, it includes the attempted assassination of President Reagan, the explosion of the Challenger and, of course, 9/11. For me personally, X also includes the moment when I learned of my father's death.

Now, in addition to these things, I am pretty sure that I will always remember where I was when I learned that Senator Ted Kennedy had a malignant brain tumor. I hope that isn't the case. I hope he is treated successfully, recovers and only leaves us years from now as a result of something totally unrelated, rendering today's news but a faint memory. But watching so many grown men cry on the floor of the Senate Chambers today makes me worry that this outcome is highly unlikely.

Shopping for a new bank

Here's a reader participation exercise for you:
1. what bank do you use?
2. do you like that bank?

After many years, I have grown tired of my bank, the evil Bank of America. Their fees, the impersonal treatment, the lack of appreciation for my decades-long customer relationship, etc. They have my mortgage, but there is no reason they should have the rest of my business.

What was the final straw, you ask? $40 in fees because I made (in their view) too many transfers from savings to checking. They won't refund the fees, so instead they will lose all of my accounts.

I welcome your thoughts as I embark upon this exciting new search for a banking relationship!

Seven things I did this week

1. Talked to several Kentucky voters about Barack Obama . . . converted at least two "undecideds"
2. Took my dogs for a walk at the lake
3. In my haste to catch a really early flight, bumped my head on something I no longer remember, but which left me with a tender spot that still hurts
4. Had dinner on the Riverwalk in San Antonio
5. Took a really long nap
6. While undergoing an echo stress test, saw my own mitral valve hammering away, looking like a creature Dr. Seuss invented
7. Invited some friends I had not seen in ages to go for brunch and enjoyed catching up with them

Chair, Amelia Island, Florida (May 2008, by me)

Special story

So often, I fret about why newspaper writers don't do a better job of covering the important matters facing our country. Here is a sweet story . . . not about international affairs and such, but about something important nonetheless. It is well written and made me feel proud--of our country and the people who live here.

Via the ever-wonderful Kottke.

Overheard in the Jacksonville airport

this weekend:

A dad walked his 10 year old-ish daughter to the ladies' room and said, "You need to understand, you are a beautiful, skinny young woman and it doesn't matter if you are not a size one--practically no one is really a size one." She flushed and looked to be considering, just for a moment, whether her dad could be right about that.

This story hit a little close to home. Not the ending of the story . . . I'm feeling stronger now. But all of the prior symptoms and struggles of that lawyer feel just like my struggles. That he felt that way even when he had a great wife and kids and supportive friends makes me realize the power of these feelings, that they can overwhelm all rational thought and behavior. I'm sad for him and for his friends and family who survive him.

I spend a lot of time thinking about things I could do with my time that would feel more rewarding. There is the smallest nugget of an idea developing . . . something about thinking of a way to find people like me and help them before it's too late. I'll keep pondering . . .

Random Monday Thoughts

I'm confused about why my dog K wasn't wearing a collar when I returned home from work last night.

"Bittersweet" is, by definition, the feeling one has when one returns home after a long Sunday at the office to find a message a friend left much earlier that day on her home answering machine, offering her tickets to the Dallas Mavericks playoff game that just ended minutes earlier, and which the Mavericks lost.

I believe perfectionism is the single largest impediment to my productivity. Overcoming perfectionism is not easy, as it is a "skill" I have honed over the course of many years. But in the last two days, I have managed to get past it and just get things done by deciding it is more important to accomplish something than to accomplish it in the way I would do it if I had all the time in the world, to infinity, in which to work on it. Surprisingly, it felt just as satisfying to finish in that way as it would have in the other.

It isn't very fun to search, barefoot in one's robe, at 7:00 am on a Monday morning, for a missing dog collar.

I hope you have this kind of week:



(Taken by me, Dallas Arboretum)

Jon Stewart

is my hero.

Sunday was

Take Your Dog to Work Day:



At least, it was for me.

My favorite movies set in Chicago

I played Chicago tour guide recently and am planning to do it again in early August. This makes me think about all the Chicago places I love and, in turn, all the Chicago-set movies I love.

Here are my top five movies set in Chicago:

1. Ferris Bueller's Day Off
2. About Last Night
3. Kissing a Fool
4. The Blues Brothers
5. High Fidelity

Honorable Mention:

1. Adventures in Babysitting
   
2. The Breakup

Check them out, then visit my wonderful city!

With all credit to the author, my friend Jim,

I bring you this story about our weekend:

April 12th – April 15^th , 2008

Texas

The Texas 2 Step

Roadtrip Brings A Doubleshot Of Bruce

Landing at DFW Airport around 12:30 PM, Lisa’s convertible comes to pick Barbra and me up. As Lisa rolls up to the curb, the new Bruce CD is blasting out the open top. Here’s our Texas welcome!

From the initial Chicken Chilaquiles, to the final Shiner Bock beers was a very memorable trip. Interspersed wasThe Grassy Knoll, The Dallas Botanic Garden, the beautiful drive to Houston (you heard right!), and of course…B-r-r-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-c-e. Yeee-Haw! Major props to Lisa, you were the best Hostess and Planner. Thanks Lisa!

So the trip begins with a lunch stop at one of Lisa’s favorites. The Chicken Chilaquiles were AWESOME! And that special Bloody Mary was so dang citrus-y. On to Lisa’s house in a very cool neighborhood called, are you ready?, Hollywood – Santa Monica. Then It’s the 6th Floor Museum in the actual School Book Depository. Time to chill back at Lisa’s with some chilled wine on her huge second story, covered balcony. With all the mature trees in her neighborhood it was like a big tree house. Is it dinner time already? On to a fantastic Oaxacan restaurant, Mi Cocina, with some Oh So Good chicken mole. 38 ingredients in that mole.

Sunday has a trip to the Dallas Botanic Garden. Several hours of really beautiful grounds. I was IMPRESSED! 1.2 million bulbs, many – and very large – azaleas, interesting bronze sculptures, long tree tunnels of Lagerstoemia, fountains, a very large (remember we are in Texas) lake. Very well done! Nap time after, then time for the Dallas show, Sunday night.

Monday has us road tripping Thelma and Louise style to Houston, a 3 hour drive. There were beautiful stretches of large green trees, some slightly rolling hills, and beautiful wildflowers along the freeway. Really quite nice, and nothing as I expected. Apparently Lady Bird Johnson made sure plenty of Texas sized money was put into freeway beautification.

Rolling into Houston brought warm weather, a different plant palette with some tropicals (Queen Palms? Crotons? Shell Ginger?), and a large bucket of spicy crawdads at The Ragin' Cajun. Hotel time. We pull up to the large Hilton Convention Hotel and check in. Very nice. A quick walk outside and we could almost touch the arena Bruce was playing in that night. Literally across a small access street. 3 minutes from hotel to arena on foot. Too Cool!

Another Bruce show Monday night, a follow up Shiner Bock at the hotel bar, and it was way past bedtime...again. Breakfast on Tuesday, then a flight back to Los Angeles.

A Texas Tornado of a trip.

The Shows:

Dallas, Sunday April 13

This was a good show. Not a great show, that will come in Houston. Solid. Not bad for Lisa's intro. Lisa was in observation mode, soaking it in, knowing another opportunity was coming.

The crowd was a little spotty. Some people were determined to just sit, many people seemed unfamiliar with the new CD, and to me it kinda seemed that the crowd was waiting for a repeat of a 1985 show from the peak of Bruce's popularity. They weren't rude, and they were rather loud, but I kinda got this feeling...well either the song choices were too new, or too old. Most weren't "just right" for them.

The show itself had several highlights:

Barbra got to complete hearing every song on the "Born To Run Album", a coveted milestone in Bruce land. After only 5 shows, are you kidding me? It took me 27 years!

Bruce again played "Meeting Across The River". I'm convinced that most of the crowd had no idea what this meant. No "gasp", no anticipation. That doesn't make it a bad performance by any means...I got to enjoy it on a different level from the "Oh My God!" moment in Anaheim. The setlist was actually quite good.

The finale brought out "Dancing In The Dark", and Bruce brought up 10, ten year old girls, that were near the stage. Cute.

After the show, at The Old Monk, I avoided asking Lisa “The Question.” She offered an answer anyway, “it rocked,” she said kinda flatly. I could tell from how she said it that the show seemed OK. I thought the same. There is a type of Bruce show where different aspects come together to create that Special Bruce Experience. The crowd. The venue. The performance. The song selection. The changes in song selection. It is actually palpable. “The Church Of Bruce” in LA was one. “The School Of Rock.” Anaheim #2, “The Mythic Show.” Dallas was not one of these. Doesn’t mean it was bad, but Lisa, without knowing it, kinda summed it up.

Houston, Monday April 14th

Part of Lisa’s genius was to road trip to Houston. This would give her an opportunity to scout out a first show, and then possibly really appreciate the next one.

The Houston Show starts with the hotel location. Wow, right next door. So at 5:30 we head to the downstairs bar that is already 2 people deep. Somehow we find a table. People kept filtering in, and before we know it the crowd is into the lobby and almost to the revolving door entrance. Lots of Bruce T shirts. At 7:00 we go back to our rooms, take a shower, and get dressed for the show. We walk into the arena at 7:35, how easy was that!

Now time to find our seats. I knew where they were, but Barbra and Lisa didn’t. Side of stage, but still in front. 15^th row. Yeah Baby! Both Lisa and Barbra said they were the best tickets they have ever had for any show. So far so good.

This concert was a blaster, and started like a fast firing revolver. Plenty of highlights, but there was this one….

On the CD “Magic” there is a song, “Terry’s Song.” It is not listed. It doesn’t show up on Bruce’s official website. It is an afterthought. This song is a eulogy to a best friend who passed away last year, just before the CD was released. When I was going through my recent health issues, when I heard this song I would start streaming tears uncontrollably. The song is extremely personal, and there is NO WAY it is EVER going to be performed. I even told Lisa and Barbra this during our drive down.

Well…two thirds of the way through the show, Bruce comes out of the shadows with a guitar and the harmonica around his neck. Strange. A chair and a microphone get set up for him. Strange. He then proceeds to tell us that his friend would have been 68 years old today, and this was for him. I almost started crying right there. Are you kidding me? He proceeds to play “Terry’s Song.” I’m not exaggerating when I tell you I’m tearing up as I type this.

Terry's song... http://youtube.com/watch?v=Avi4ucNc4FY

What I didn’t know until days later, was that Lisa was crying during this song. Whew, powerful stuff.

The show picks back up, and the main set ends with that mountaintop ender, “Thunder Road.” The flag is planted. An excellent encore set including Texas legend Joe Ely, and we are done. An excellent, excellent show. A tip of the Stetson to Houston.

After the show, Lisa again summed it up. “This show seemed a lot better, didn’t it? Bruce is like a mastermind pitcher in baseball. He knows just how to change songs, and just how to change the order of songs. He seems to always be calculating how to create the best show.” Only later would I learn that for Houston Bruce changed his set list at the last minute (setlist pulled from the stage and replaced), and then during the show changed again. There were 6 or 7 times he had to tell the band what to play next. This was seamless.

You might say that Lisa “gets it”. She has a pretty good right handed fist pump to boot.

Bartender, give me another Double Shot. Anytime!

Reported By

Jim

Initial Bruce Report

The concert was great! Slightly more mellow than I expected, but that applies to the audience, not Bruce. This was definitely the oldest audience, on average, of any concert I have attended, and includes seeing Chicago back in the 80's. Additionally, my friend Jim observed that we were sitting next to a section of surprisingly sitting-oriented people, which may have skewed my view in this regard, as most people throughout the audience were standing more often than not.

I understand now why people love Bruce's shows . . . it's because he loves his audience and the music and thoroughly enjoys what he does, feeding off the energy of the people who have come to see him. He gives you your money's worth, and then some: the concert lasted about 2 1/2 hours, with only a very short break before his encore. He latched onto a gaggle of wild 10-year old girls whose mother was introducing them to Bruce . . . those girls, along with their preteen brother, ended up "Dancing in the Dark" onstage with The Legend, something I am sure they will never forget.

The music is great, of course, but it really feels more like an anthem or a voice for the discontent that so many of us have developed in the last eight years. I was curious to see how people in Dallas would respond to what was predicted to be a mini-rant by the artist. Jim says some booed, but I didn't hear it. This may have been because I was cheering loudly. I admire Bruce for not changing this theme just because he's in Dallas.

Great show . . . I highly recommend it. Badlands was my favorite of the tunes, but there were many good ones. Oh yes, and Jon Bon Jovi, in town for a concert tonight, assisted with the lead on Glory Days. Cool!

I always find myself being introspective at a concert or performance of any kind, really. This one was no different. The question I kept asking myself is, "What are you afraid of?" This is something I plan to explore in-depth in the weeks to come!

On to Houston for show number two!

How does a person end up seeing Bruce Springsteen twice in two days in two different cities?

One might legitimately ask this. And one might ask this of me, because I will be seeing Bruce Sunday night in Dallas and Monday night in Houston.

I do not own any Bruce Springsteen albums or singles. I have never before been to a Bruce Springsteen concert. I am not even a regular concertgoer . . . I believe the last one I saw was Bright Eyes, about a year ago.

So, how does this happen? Well, it starts with having a friend who is so in love with Springsteen that he sends out summaries like this when he attends a Springsteen concert:

Bruce Springsteen

Anaheim, Show #2

April 8, 2008

Anaheim Show #2.

So where to begin?

Context is important. Bruce is almost 60, and his sax man is almost 70.

First thing first, I have to break down the “Third Person” narrative, and report as myself. I, me, my.

To start, I have been disappointed by Bruce Springsteen in the past. In the 90’s he toured with a Non- E Street Band group, and then there was The Reunion Tour where The E Street Band got back together. Both Tours were disappointments to me. They were OK, but nothing more.

So here comes the 3 shows that I have really liked prior to Tuesday. The E Street Band and Bruce seem to really be playing fantastic together.

Then comes Anaheim Night #2. Tuesday night.

There is a legendary Bruce song from the album “Born To Run” called “Thunder Road”. “Thunder Road” is the invitation. A welcome in. The introduction. It builds to an anthem ending where a shout from the rooftops declares, “It’s a town full of losers, I’m pulling out of here to wiiiiiiiiiiiin!!!!!” This song, in concert, is reserved for the finale. It is the slow concert climb to the mountaintop, the crescendo, the place where Bruce plants the flag, stands with arms outstretched, and admires his work.

See it here from 1978. Seven minutes long, and worth it. It is important to watch it before continuing. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hf61K6ZKu_4 I have had this exact song on cassette for 25 years, played it at least hundreds of times, and always imagined myself there. So click that link.

OK, yeah…Tuesday night.

Calliope plays, stage is dark. The first song starts, a quiet piano intro. At NOTE # 2 of the quiet intro, there is a collective gasp from 15,000 people. No joke, no exaggeration. The collective gasp collectively exhales. OH MY GOD!!! It can’t be! Queue Bruce’s harmonica, and there is a roar from the crowd that sounds like a 747 taking off. Thunder Road to start the show???!!!!! It just can’t be!!

This is gonna sound so stupid…but I don’t care. I turn to hug Barbra and I think my eyes are watering. Then I get to do something I have imagined so many times. With 15,000 others I scream, “Show a little faith there’s magic in the night. You ain’t a beauty but Hey you’re alright.”

WOW!

This is the start of the show??!! Where the heck can this go, and what kind of ride are we going on??!!

Forget “The Message” from Night #1 “School Of Rock”. Out the window. This show was Mythic. Played on Olympus, for the Gods to see. Urgency? Damn right. Power? Plenty. A little taste of “The Message” too. The song selection? Maybe the best I’ve seen since 1980.

I could provide the Set List, but who cares? What I can say is that Barbra and I saw a legendary Bruce, a legendary E Street. Yeah they’re old, so the context of my “legendary” comment goes with it. They are not in their 20’s.

You won’t understand what I’m about to say because you aren’t familiar with it. But in the encore, when Bruce started with Meeting Across The River, and transitioned that into Jungleland we were in rarified air. The kind of combo that gets whispered about, and “I-was-there”ed about. A kind of “only rarely in New Jersey maybe” kind of performance that keeps Visions Of Sugar Plumbs dancing through the heads of fans.

Again from 1978. Again, I’ve played this song hundreds of times hoping, maybe someday…

“Meeting” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gZ7kTxHLJss&feature=related

“Jungleland” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VH_NvYPBDY0&feature=related

When I heard the first strains of “Meeting” another collective inhale from the crowd. Myth was becoming reality for all of us. On the West Coast we couldn’t POSSIBLY hope for Meeting / Jungleland. I told Barbra what it was, and what she was experiencing. How if he transitioned to Jungleland she was experiencing a legendary show. And damned if Jungleland didn’t follow.

I couldn’t sleep last night. Too excited. Too Bruce Juiced.

Barbra e-mailed me this morning. She has been to 4 shows on this tour. Important term “this tour”. Guess how many different songs she has heard? Guess. Same tour, same shows right? Same songs, right?. 2 back to back shows late last year, 2 back to back shows this year. Can’t be that different, right?

Barbra e-mails me that she has seen 41 DIFFERENT songs.

What a night. What a show. What a performer.

On to Dallas, where our friend Lisa . . . . will be seeing her first Bruce show. She doesn’t know from Bruce, she just knows my passion. Heck, you might even get bored at the show, right Lisa? We don’t know. We will see how the “Eight Years of mismanagement” message goes over in Texas. I think Bruce might reserve a special comment or two. Barbra and I can't wait to see you Lisa!

Report from Texas will follow.

B-r-r-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-c-c-e.

I’m spent! Just writing this review has exhausted me.

Reported By

Jim

Then, the friend (i.e., me) who reads that kind of review (for a concert on a different tour, years ago) thinks, "What kind of phenomenon leads a person to write that way about a concert experience?" So she invites Jim and his girlfriend to come to Texas so they can experience Bruce together in Dallas. Then, because everything is bigger in Texas, she says, "Heck, why not double the experience and road trip together to Houston to see him the next night, too?"

What she does not know when her friends say, "Great! Let's do it!" is that they already have tickets for two back-to-back Bruce shows in Anaheim the week before, which means they will be seeing Bruce four times in eight days. (If she had known this, she might have thought the problem was pathological in nature).

So, now she waits with baited breath for the arrival of her friends on Saturday morning, so she can show them some things she loves about the state where she has spent the last 20 years, and so she can learn a little about the musician her friend Jim has loved for even longer than that.

Have a great weekend, people!