It’s taken me about 24 hours to get over the stomach punch of USA-Brazil.  For those of you that do not follow international soccer, the USA scored 2 first half goals and then bunkered in to weather the second half only to give up 3 (really 4) goals from a ultra-hyped Brazilian squad.  The final goal came in the 83rd minute.  I’ve been conflicted about my impressions about the game and the state of USA soccer.  So in no particular order, here are some thoughts. [Read Column]

My son is sick.  He’s 15 months old and its the first time that he was really sick.  The type of childhood flu, fever, and shakes that adults don’t get.  When Kirin gets scared or sick, he wants either his mum or dad.  It helps him sleep, makes him feel safe.  Last night around 5am, I was holding him to my chest, stroking his hair and listening to the deep, thick rumblings coming from his chest on each little breath.  He was finally sleeping easy, his tiny hands curled into my pajamas.

As I held him, my mind wandered in the darkness and I thought of Michael.  My guardian angel. [Read Column]

I’m 32 years old.  And that is saying something. It’s quite an accomplishment considering where I’ve been and what I’ve done.  For example, I was voted ‘Most Likely to be Arrested in a Drug Cartel Raid’ by my middle school.  To make matters worse, my mouth has written so many checks that my ass can not cash that I’ve had to declare Glutus Chapter 11.

Most males in my family have a habit of shuffling off the mortal coil by their mid-fifties – either by heart attack, by cancer, or by train.  So its safe to say that if I haven’t already entered my middle years then its fast approaching.  And with middle age comes the mid-life crisis where men leave their wives, date teenagers, and buy phallic monster SUVs.  So with that in mind, let’s start making some plans on how I’m going to wig out. [Read Column]

I had a couple of traits going for me when I was a kid that I still possess to this day.  Two of them that I want to speak about today are focus and efficiency.  Efficiency and focus. [Read Column]

My dad had a house on Husband Street in Stillwater.  When my parents were together and we were not roving the country as Army brats, we normally lived there.  The house was old, probably built in the 1920s or 30s.  It was situated on a bit of a hill with an impossibly steep drive-way that perennially held a dull, red Ford Pinto hatch-back with gray furry seat covers.  There was a big tree in the front yard that had a U-shaped branch that we’d sit in and pretend to be Captain Kirk piloting the enterprise while the rest of us where scattered in other branches pretending to be at our battle stations.

The house was just down the street from Hardy’s (which later became Carl’s Jr and then a Thai restaurant and now something else entirely) and a little further from the public library (which was since bought by an IT company).  We’d walk down the block during the summers in our shorts and T-shirts, grab a few mushroom-n-swiss burgers, and then spend an afternoon in the library playing the in large castle playset in the basement.

In the backyard of my dad’s house there was an old, rustic, wooden shed.  And one day during one of those summer afternoons, we set it on fire. [Read Column]