Yes, I saw the new Star Trek. Yes, I liked it a lot.
But even if it wasn't badass in it's own right, as a long time Trek fan, it was worth it to see the cadet Kirk infamously "beat" the Kobayashi Maru no-win scenario. It's just a shame that the time line changes didn't let him get that commendation for original thinking he talked about in Wrath of Khan.
And I honestly need to let this out, catharsis if you will.
I killed my mother.
Not literally. I'm not Norman Bates. However, I had to "make the call."
They day she died, I was working a football game. Right after halftime, I got an odd call from a doctor at the hospital she was in at the time. Mostly odd because he was hard to understand. Anyway, he was telling me that she was having breathing problems, and that they wanted to put her on a respirator. However, she didn't seem to be in her right mind, and so they were calling the people who were in her living will. My aunt, and me. They couldn't reach my aunt. I immediately froze up, and had no clue what to do. The doctor told me they could temporarily use CPAP as a form of respiration until we could assess it better. I okay'ed that, then after a few minutes of frantic contemplation, called my aunt. Between the two of us, we figured she needed to go to the hospital (she was much closer, I was 30 minutes away) and figure out what was happening.
The next 20 minutes or so was agonizing. I sat on the floor of the 3rd floor of the Unitas Stadium press box, by the windows near the elevators, outside of the Presidents private suite. Thankfully I knew the woman manning the door, and the woman who basically organized those suite events during games. They both "took care of me" during that time, getting me water and stuff, while my awesome game day crew shouldered the load of the game.
About 20 minutes later my aunt called, and her message was to the point. "You need to get down here." I went to my crew and told them I was leaving, and they assured me they could handle things, and then I broke quite a few speed limits on my way down there. I was having deja vu from when my father died. I was also called by my aunt, and I also sped like hell to get to the same hospital, but in that case, I started from halfway to Wilkes-Barre, PA and didn't make it in time. I didn't want that to happen again.
When I got there, my aunt made it clear that it wasn't very good. The doctors wouldn't give a 100% assurance that she could come off the respirator if they put her on one, nor would they commit that a respirator would even work, though they were "confident" that it would. And that was something she didn't want, to be on a respirator on any sort of permanent basis. But at the same time...doctors never give 100% assurances on anything anymore. They have to be careful and protect themselves. So after talking to my aunt, and briefly talking to the doctor about what exactly was happening came the moment of truth.
My aunt and I looked at each other.
Finally, she said, "You have to do it...I just can't do it." For anybody who knows my Aunt Sherry, that might come to a surprise to you. She's a very strong woman. But when it came to making the tough call on her little sister, she couldn't.
I stood there for I don't know how long. Felt like forever. Was probably only a few minutes. Finally, swallowing my selfish pride, and trying to look at it clinically as I could, I said, "she wouldn't want the respirator. We can't do it. I really wish it were other wise...but this goes against her wishes." My aunt nodded in agreement, and we notified the doctor.
That's when we "robed up" and went in to her ICU unit. She was in and out of coherent consciousness, both according to the doctor and my aunt. But when she saw me, she gave me a weird look, and said "What are you doing here?"
She knew. I know in my heart that she knew. I was rendered speechless and looked helplessly at my aunt. I had just made the decision that would kill my mother minutes before, and now I was face to face with her, and she knew by my presence of what was going on. Aunt Sherry helped by saying something like "he wanted to come see you," something generic. Something I'm very grateful for her for, because I jumped on that to have something to say. Luckily she didn't stay that coherent long. I spent most of the rest of the time adjusting her CPAP mask, it was a bit small and kept creeping off her chin. It didn't help that she obviously didn't want to be wearing it in the first place.
I took a few moments to call her oldest friend, my godmother, and told her she should drop everything and get up to the hospital. She was there within 15 minutes. I think Mom recognized her when she came in, but its hard to tell, she didn't last much longer after that. From that point things are something of a blur, but I do rememeber hugging her, sobbing, and pouring my heart out. I don't even know if she was still alive at that point. I'm not sure I want to know, I'd rather believe she was. But it wasn't long after that the nurse came in and told us she was gone.
That was about the point where I grew numb for awhile. The next day I started writing her eulogy, and that helped "dethaw" me.
But, it still haunts me that I had to make that call. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy. I'm not sure anybody should ever have to be put in that position. Her life was in my hands. I'm pretty sure I made the right choice, but there are times when I look at my beautiful child, and I wonder...I wonder if I had decided to be selfish, maybe she would have seen her granddaughter. She was so looking forward to that. I was so looking for that. I wouldn't have admitted it at the time, but I was very much looking forward to "presenting" Erin to her grandmother.
And then, as I fumbled my way in to parenthood, I realized I also wish, again for selfish reasons, that I had my mother around for the advice. I've leaned a lot on my wonderful mother in law (I lucked out in that regard, big time), but I never realized how much I expected at least one of my parents to be there when I became a parent. I could have gotten advice ahead of time, but I didn't. So now, I'm flying almost blind, trying to just think of what my father or mother would have done.
Luckily I have a wonderful wife, and I also have an astounding child who makes it easy for me by being absolutely fascinated by her dada. I think I'll be okay.
But I did kill my mother. Not directly, the infection that ran rampant through her system was the direct cause. But I was given the decision to extend her life. It's very possible that she might still be alive today.
But. What if. Maybe. This tale is full of a lot of those words. A person who I respect a great deal, when I told him about this stuff, told me that I shouldn't second guess myself about this. That, in the end, things probably worked the way they should have. But he also admitted that he had never been in quite the same position.
I don't know. I'll probably live with this for the rest of my life. One day, when Erin is much older, and ready, I may tell her this story, as I promised my mother on her deathbed that I'd tell her all about her, and her grandfather, and thats obviously part of it, and an important part of her own fathers life. I'll tell you this though, writing it down (or typing it out, as it were) and putting it out there for mass consumption does help. It doesn't change the past, or the future, but it does make me feel better in a way. Catharsis.
Happy Mother's Day (a bit early), Mom. I never thought I'd miss you as much as I do. You and Dad.
So, as I watched, yet again, Major League today, I noticed something interesting.
In many scenes when the players are out in public, at restaurants or bars, the others have alcohol, but Rick Vaughn has soda (most notably he's drinking beer right before the final game when Dorn's wife seduces him). It starts at the French restaurant that Taylor takes Vaughn and Hayes to when they get to Cleveland. Taylor and Hayes have wine, Vaughn has soda. Then later, when Vaughn is signing his first autograph, he has soda, Taylor has a beer (I think).
And it made me wonder...was there a dropped plotline about why Rick Vaughn wasn't drinking? Maybe he was on probation...like he said, he didn't think he'd be able to make spring training because he was in jail. Maybe part of his release was to stay off the sauce?
If anybody knows, let me know. My curiosity has been piqued.
If you think this is cute...you should go look at the rest of this impromptu "session."
Kids a natural.
And no, it's not that I've gone this long without blogging, though I do apologize for it.
No, the injustice is here, and with baseball season underway, I figured I'd bring it up:
http://www.nfl-nba-mlb-nhl.com/category.sc?categoryId=98
There are some great, great, GREAT Movie/TV jerseys here. I mean, a Jimmy Chitwood Huskers "Hoosiers" basketball jersey? I'd wear that.
And there's some really good fictional players from many sports movies there.
The injustice comes when you note the selection from the Major League movies.
There's Wild Thing, Ricky Vaughn. There's Roger Dorn. There's Pedro Cerrano. There's Willie Mays Hayes. Theres...Tanaka? Well, okay. And that's it. Obviously, there are lots of people left out there. But one of them is glaring and I'm actually sorta steamed about it.
Where's #7? Where's Jake Taylor?
You can argue that the first movie is supposed to focus on a group of players, mainly Vaughn, Hayes, and Taylor (and to some extent Dorn, who, by the way, has many B.J. Surhoff separated at birth moments, especially after his "pep talk" to Vaughn before the penultimate strikeout that leads to the climax). I'd argue that it's Taylor's movie, the rest get second focus, and everyone else gets third. I'd even argue that while the focus clearly shifts in the second movie, it still has Taylor at the heart.
So where's his effin' jersey, you buttholes? I mean, you gave TANAKA a jersey. An offensive (though it's okay, its for laughs!) stereotype that, in the wake of all the good Japanese players that have crashed the MLB since looks so dated in the second movie...but you don't make one for Jake Taylor...the man not only was the heart and central focus of the original movie, but he ends up managing the team by the end of the second!
Yeah, you can get Taylor t-shirts on the web if you look, but I'm pointing a finger directly at that site for a grave failing on their part.
Side note: For those familiar with the movie, have you ever seen the alternate ending? Where Lou Brown hands in his resignation to Rachel Phelps, saying he has no intentions on hanging around while she machinates a move to Florida, and she tells him it was all a ruse? That she actually did love the team, and wanted to keep it in Cleveland, but it was on the verge of bankruptcy, so she not only personally hand picked him to lead them, but personally scouted the team, trying to find players she knew could turn it around. She then played the "Herb Brooks" ploy, uniting the team by being a bitch to them. Brown agrees to stay, but Phelps tells him he can never reveal what really happened, or her "true" nature. Test screeners liked having Rachel as the evil bitch villain though, so it was removed. You can find it on one of the special edition DVDs. Not to mention, she plays the bitch too often in the previous scenes, especially when alone with GM Charlie Donovan...an ending like that, while "happy" would seem jarring and out of place and too neatly wrapped up and perfect.
And just because I know you'd kill me if I didn't, your dose of cute:
And just for kicks, the final 20 minutes (cut in to two parts), which is basically the climactic win and you're in game they play vs. the Yankees for the pennant.
Let's just say the muse hit me this morning as Erin was playing. Enjoy as she herself enjoys one of her favorite activities:
But now back to it.
Jessie suggested that I give an update on Erin, and like most things she suggests, that's a great idea. So that's a what I'ma gonna do.
The colic is over, yay. She's starting to teethe, though, but hey, that's to be expected. And we lucked out in the regard that she generally sleeps through the night. She doesn't exactly like to go places though, she's kind of a homebody like her folks.
But, she's quite talkative, though she obviously isn't actually saying anything. She's started to make raspberry like sounds, so solid P sounds should follow.
And she thinks its hilarious when I take her hands or feet and hit myself with them, and recoil. I'm not sure what that means...
Thank you all for coming today.
Over the weekend, it was brought to light that I tested positive for steroids in the past. These allegations are true. I have indeed used steroids. In the summer of 1998, I was doing yardwork, clearing some brush away from plants, and foolishly forgot to use some arm protection. In short order, I had a very bad case of poison ivy up both of my arms. For the next month, I was on a steroid regiment. I'm not proud of this act, but I felt it necessary at the time in order to perform. I hope I haven't tarnished my status to my many fans.
Today, on the eve of the Big Game (because you can't say Super Bowl...it's trademarked and copyrighted...oh, wait...shit)* I thought I might reflect on this years Ravens season.
I could only be happier if they had won the whole shebang.
I mean, let's face it. Nobody gave the Purple and Black any chance. Not with a rookie head coach. And then during the preseason when Kyle Boller got hurt and Troy Smith got really, really, really sick, they had the hand the keys to the offense to a rookie QB (albeit a first round draft choice) in Joe Flacco, one they were planning on having hold a clipboard his first season. Most experts pegged them as a 5 or 6 win team. Then, through a really bad break from Mother Nature, their week 2 game is pushed back to their bye week midseason, effectively not giving them a proper bye (they might not have played in Week 2, but they did practice normal because of the scheduled game).
So what do they do? They go 11-5 and make the playoffs as a Wild Card team. Then, Joe Flacco becomes the first rookie QB in NFL history to win 2 road playoff games, including taking out the number 1 seed in the second round.
Then they got in to a out and out brawl with the Steelers in the AFC Championship game...a game that if you told me they'd be playing in back in September, I would have told you that you were being irrational...and ended up losing.
Am I disappointed that we didn't get to the Super Bowl? Sure. Do I think that diminishes the awesome that was this season for the Ravens? Heck no.
I do have to admit, though, it's really strange to be Wacko for Flacco. I mean, I'm a Towson alum and staff member. He came out of UDel. That's oil and water, folks. :D But I am Wacko for Flacco. With my birthday a month away (and the season only a month old) I asked Jessie for a Flacco #5 jersey. I then proceeded to wear it every Sunday until this past one, and I'll probably wear it when I watch the Super Bowl on Sunday out of general principle. Here's a shot of me and Erin (she's wearing Ravens gear too!) the first day I wore it.
So we didn't win it all. It was still a great run, a great season. I'm proud to be a Ravens fan after that season.
*This is SO a joke my father would make. One of his fav's was "go get me something out of the refri...refrid...re...ref...the icebox. I have to say icebox, because I can't say refrigerator."
Let's flashback to the hallowed days of antiquity...namely 2 days ago, when I forgot to publish a Humpday Haiku. Allow me to rectify that oversight now.
Sliding all around
I always forget about this
My skate shoes...no traction.
After doing one of those "Memory of Me" meme's on Facebook, one of my old pals reminded me of how we used to obsess a bit over the show Daria, even to the point of bringing in a tape of it to watch at our theatre after a work shift (or kicking out the group as she put it).
It made me remember how so very much I wanted to be like the character Trent on that show. And how I used to always sort of go by the mantra of "What Would Trent Do?" Andi, my friend, assured me that "except for the monotone and tattoos" I was very much like Trent, though I tend to disagree.
And I'm thinking, maybe I should once again aspire to Trent-ism. Unflappable, smooth, but still coy and quick on the uptake (most of the time, Trent had his moments where he seemed like he wasn't quite awake), but most of all, he always seemed oddly insightful, and I always dug that aspect. If I can get my Trent groove back, that'd be pretty cool. I'll have to work on that.
Though I don't think I should start a band called Mystik Spiral.
Also, BIG UPS and thanks to Ben (you can find him at www.bigbenkennedy.com) for coming through on my new banner, I think it's awesome.
