I have a Man Crush on Tim Thomas

Last Wednesday the Bruins won the Stanley Cup. They beat the favored Vancouver Canucks 4 games to 3, winning the final game on Vancouver's ice 4-0. Thomas had great series, allowing only 8 goals in 7 games. He was an easy choice for the Conn Smythe award for playoff Most Valuable Player. He's a shoe-in to win the Vezina Trophy for most outstanding goaltender when it's awarded in a couple of weeks. The guy is a super star! He's the best goalie in Bruins history. And he just won us our first Stanley Cup in almost 40 years. I'm a life long Bruins fan. So of course I like the guy. But it's more than that. I LOVE this guy!

Thomas is Everyman. He’s a regular sized guy from a normal background. He's been told he's too small to be an NHL goalie his whole life. His style has been criticized as 'flopping' by all the 'experts' for as long as he's been playing. But Thomas is an overachiever. Telling him he can't do something just makes him work harder. He's persistent. He's strong-willed. He's learned to overcome tough odds. You can not help routing for guys like Thomas.

He's been successful pretty much everywhere he gone. But he's continually had to re-prove himself. Nothing has been handed to him. He's overcome his size disadvantage by being quicker, more flexible and more aggressive than conventional goalies. And he's humble. I'll bet I've heard a hundred interviews with Thomas and he's never once sounded anything other than humble. He seems like a genuine nice guy.


I've been following Thomas' career since his days at UVM, when he, Martin St. Louis and Eric Perrin led us to our first Frozen Four appearance (1995-1996). St. Louis and Perrin were the lightening quick goal scorers. Each had 29 goals and 56 assists that year; 85 points each! Thomas was the dynamic goaltender. He won 26, with a 2.34 goals against average and a .924 save percentage. UVM had its best season ever. They went 27-7-4 overall and dominated the ECAC with a 17-2-3 mark. They were ranked #1 for much of the season, but ultimately lost a heart breaker in the semifinals, in double overtime, on an obvious hand pass. Thomas, St. Louis and Perrin were named All-Americans. St. Louis went undrafted by the NHL, but went on to have a glorious career, including a scoring title and an MVP. Perrin also played in the NHL for a few years, even hooking up with St. Louis in 2004 for a Stanley Cup of their own.

Thomas' collegiate numbers:
Tim Thomas (1993-97) 140 81-44-15 2.70 .914. Thomas still ranks third in the NCAA Division I record book in career saves (3,950).

Believe me when I say that I LOVED researching Thomas' past. Everything I found just made me LOVE the guy more.

Thomas grew up in a blue collar environment. He was unrecruited coming out of high school (Divison/Flint, Michigan). He continued to fly under the radar playing junior league hockey. Then, playing in an Olympic Festival (whatever that is), he caught the attention three non-powerhouse Division I schools: Western Michigan, UMASS-Lowell and Vermont. He selected UVM because the coach told him he'd be able to compete for a job right away.

I've noted Thomas' success at UVM. But it didn't translate to being welcomed into the NHL. Thomas was selected 217th overall by the Quebec Nordiques. He graduated UVM with a Bachelor of Arts in English and played in a bunch of different places before landing in the NHL with the Bruins in 2005-06.


In 1997–98, he played for the Birmingham Bulls (East Coast Hockey League) and the Houston Aeros (International Hockey League), then went overseas mid-season to HIFK of the Finnish SM-Liiga. Thomas played 18 games with a save percentage of .947. HIFK won the Finnish championship.

In 1998-99, Thomas signed with the Edmonton Oilers. He played for the Hamilton Bulldogs (AHL), but again transferred to HIFK, where they lost in the finals.

In 1999–2000, Thomas played for the Detroit Vipers (IHL).

In 2000-01, Thomas played for AIK of Sweden's Elitserien.

In 2001-02, Thomas joined the Boston Bruins organization, but chose to continue playing in Europe, returning to the Finnish SM-Liiga with Kärpät of Oulu. Thomas' team didn't advance far in the playoffs, but in 32 games, he recorded a .925 save percentage.

In 2002–03, Thomas played his initial two seasons with the Providence Bruins (AHL). He appeared in four games with the Boston Bruins, and recorded a 3-1 record with a .907 save percentage.

In 2004–05, Thomas returned to Finland, joining Jokerit of the SM-Liiga, his fourth stint in Finland. He played in 54 games, compiling a league-high .946 save percentage. He set a league record 15 shutouts during the regular season. He played 12 playoff games with a .938 save percentage. Jokerit lost in the finals. Thomas was awarded the league MVP.


In 2005-06, Thomas was back with the Bruins. He was assigned to Providence out of training camp, but was brought up to Boston after Andrew Raycroft and Hannu Toivonen suffered injuries. Thomas went 12–13–7 with a 2.77 goals against average, a .917 save percentage in his first season as an NHL starting goalie. The fans voted him as the 7th Player Award, as having gone beyond expectations.

In the 2006 off-season, Thomas was re-signed by the Bruins to a three-year deal. Boston's previous starter, Andrew Raycroft, was traded.

In 2006–07, Thomas began the season Bruins' backup, but was promoted after Hannu Toivonen struggled. Thomas went 30–29–4 with a .904 save percentage. He again won the 7th Player Award.

In the 2007 off-season, the Bruins acquired goaltender Manny Fernandez and traded Hannu Toivonen away. Most assumed Thomas would back-up Fernandez, but after Fernandez was injured early in the season, Thomas became the starter. He was selected for his first NHL All-Star Game as a replacement for Martin Brodeur and was credited with the win.

In 2008–09 Thomas started the season as the Bruins primary goaltender and had a great season. He was chosen to play in his second All-Star Game and once again got the win. He agreed to a four-year extension (average $5 million/year) and led the Bruins to the Northeast Division title and top Conference seeding. Boston swept Montreal in the first round of the playoffs, but lost to Carolina in seven games in Round 2. Thomas was awarded the Vezina Trophy at the NHL awards as the league’s best goalie. He led the NHL with a 2.10 goals-against average and .933 save percentage.

In 2009-10 Thomas didn't play as well as he had the previous season. He posted a 17–18–8 record with a respectable 2.56 GAA. It was said that Thomas was injured, but Thomas never complained. Tukka Rask outplayed Thomas and became the starting goalie. Rask played all the playoff games for Boston. The Bruins won their Conference quarter-final series, and led Philadelphia three games to none in the Conference semi-final before losing the next four games and dropping the series.

In the 2010 off-season, Thomas had hip surgery. There was talk that the Bruins were exploring trading him. The most likely destination was Philadelphia, a team that had reached the Stanley Cup Finals the previous season and lost mostly due to poor goaltending. But the trade never happened and Thomas remained in Boston.


In 2010-11 Thomas had one of the greatest seasons in NHL history. He began the season in competition with Tukka Rask for the starting job. Thomas win that quickly, recording victories in his first 7 games, winning 3 by shutout and giving up a total of 5 goals. Then he stayed hot the whole year. He broke the NHL record for save percentage, beating Dominik Hasek's record of .937, with a .938 percentage. He recorded a career and league best 2.00 goals against average, while recording 9 shutouts. He led the Bruins to a Northeast Division championship. Then in the playoffs, he got even better. He played all 25 playoff games, and won 16 of them. His save percentage was .940, with a 1.98 GAA. He recorded 4 more shutouts. Amazing! He won the Conn-Smythe award as the best player in the NHL playoffs. And he'll easily win the Vezina Trophy as the league’s best goalie.

Along the way, Thomas was credited with his third All-Star game win, making him the first goaltender in league history to earn the win in three consecutive All-Star Games. He beat Montreal in Game 7 of the Opening Round. He shutout the Tampa Bay Lightning in Game 7 of the Eastern Conference Finals. And he shut out the Vancouver Canucks in Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Finals.

He's the first American born Conn Smythe Trophy winner in 17 years; the second ever. Thomas recorded a ridiculous .940 save percentage and 1.98 goals against average in the playoffs, leading many to recall the work of Dominic Hasek (aka 'The Dominator'). Alas, Thomas' numbers compare favorably with Hasek's. During the Bruin's playoff run, he set the record for most saves in a single post season (798), and the most saves in a Stanley Cup series (238). At 37 years, 62 days, Thomas also became the oldest Conn Smythe Trophy winner.


Any time any of these amazing accomplishments are mentioned, Thomas is quick to credit his teammates. Following Game 7 of the Conference Finals (a 1-0 victory over Tampa), he praised his teammates, especially defenseman Zdeno Chara and Dennis Seidenberg. "All of my defense has done a great job. Zdeno and Dennis really had incredible games tonight. Dennis Seidenberg was blocking shots right up there until the last minute. They couldn't even get in the zone because he was blocking everything at the blue line." He even praised the Tampa goalie Dwayne Roloson, saying he thought Roloson had the better night. "I was concerned about Roloson playing so well. He played an unbelievable game today. It put a lot of pressure on me. We came out and we got a lot of shots and did everything we needed to do to win, and he held them in and basically made me have to save everything."

He's an ordinary guy who succeeds because he works hard. He's humble and shares praise with teammates and adversaries. He's brought the first Stanley Cup to Boston in nearly 40 years. I LOVE Tim Thomas!

I am a Facebook Failure

Initially I found the ability to reconnect with old friends on Facebook to be wonderful. In the months after I joined, it seemed I was finding long lost buds every time I logged on.  And once I found one, that led me to a couple more. It was fun. It was cool to chat with old friends, look at their photos and trade messages. I liked seeing how their lives had turned out. Facebook was fun. Facebook was great.

But over time it has become stale. Reconnecting with old friends who live far away has run its course. I am happy to know that they're all doing so well....

But just because we were once close doesn't mean we are close now. Once we've seen what each other are up to and said 'Hey', what then? Are we obligated to "Like" all of each others' posts? Does “Friending” each other on Facebook put us back into each others' lives? Are we supposed to start trading family vacation photos? When the initial fun wears off, it becomes a chore keeping up. There's probably a reason why class reunions are spaced out every five or ten years.


I heard Facebook was originally developed for college kids who knew each other and saw each other every day. That makes sense to me. You know each other; you're in the same circle of friends; you're familiar with each others' posts. That might keep it interesting. But the people I am closest to nowadays – and honestly, there are only a few - aren't interested in anything like Facebook. They don't want to swap photos or online posts. They want to come over, watch a game and drink cold beer. They don't want to see photos of my kids. They want our kids to hang out together. They see online social sites as giant security risks with gaping privacy issues. They see a huge time sink. "There's a reason people from your past didn't make it into your future". They're probably right.

So now I'm left with an obligation to log onto my Facebook account every week or so to answer an occasional message. I feel like a spy checking out the photos people post. I hesitate to comment on anybody's post for fear that they'll comment back and I'll have to log in to respond in turn. And naturally enough, nobody comments on my rare wall posts because I have for so long neglected all of their posts. It's a conundrum.

Being a Facebook failure feels worse than being a Twitter failure. Twitter never made any sense to me. It seemed like I was shouting out to a room mostly full of people I didn't know. And the text character limit meant any conversation was limited. Twitter is like having a conversation on a noisy subway train. You need to yell in short bursts so the person can hear you. And you know strangers around you can hear what you're saying. I flunked out of Twitter quickly.

It's time for me to retire from Facebook. I am publicly acknowledging my failure. Do I close the account? Is there a procedure for something like this?

2011 Boston Marathon

For months I thought about it. I remembered the sense of accomplishment I got from completing the 2010 run. I remembered how proud of me my kids were, and how much I liked that. And so I tentatively planned on running in 2011. I went about my training. It was a snowy winter and too much of it was on the treadmill. But I did some long runs on the weekends. I peaked with a 19.5 miler three weeks before the big day. I ran the Boston Tune-Up to get comfortable in a race environment going at my own pace. I guessed I was ready. All along I was waiting for something to come up to prevent me from running, but nothing ever did. No injuries, no serious setbacks, no unavoidable scheduling conflicts; not even a rainy forecast. So when the time came, I had no excuse not to run.

Saturday. Picked up some GU and power bars at REI. Intended to do a 2 mile slow run but never got around to it. Took the kids to soccer, ate Mexican food and did yard work. Mellow.

Sunday. Took the kids to the Marathon Expo at Hynes Convention Center. Nice atmosphere. Saw Bill Rogers, a great runner from 30 years ago. Joked with the guy in the Montreal Marathon booth about the Bruins and Canadiens. "You root for the Bruins and I'll run the Montreal Marathon". "No deal" (with a French Canadian accent). Collected a bunch of freebies and picked up a T-shirt to run in. White with marathon wording and logos. Kids decorated it when we got home. On the top, front and back they wrote "BIG PAPI". The rest of the front says "FRAMINGHAM DAD" with notes from the kids. There's a big red heart between the messages. The back has lots more messages. Everything is written in colored marker. Late night pasta dinner while watching Ray Allen win it with a 3-pointer for the C's. Life is good.

Monday Pre Run. Pancake breakfast. Dropped the car next to the Framingham train stop. Hopkinton SP at 9:30. Shuttle to the start with the other runners. Mood is quiet. Starting area. Upbeat music. Cool with a strong breeze. Glad to be wearing a thick old sweatshirt. There's a big crowd. A lot of volunteer organizers. The first wave leaves. Instructions are given to the second wave runners to get in the corrals. They leave and the third wave is given instructions. There are hundreds of un-bibbed runners waiting. Once the third wave of registered runners is lined up in their corrals, the unregistered bandits start lining up behind the race organizers. Aside from not wearing bibs, the bandits are easy to tell from the real runners. The clothes, the look and the attitude are all different. No doubt every one of us would love to be able to qualify. The third wave is leaving, the line of race organizers is backing up, the mob of bandits is moving forward. It's all very organized and peaceful. Then the organizers step aside and we begin trotting forward. Soon we're approaching the starting line.

Monday Run: I start 53 minutes after the elite runners. The fastest I can move is a trot. Completely boxed in. The whole street is covered with runners. I look forward and see a mass of bobbing heads and brightly colored shirts. Looks like a gumball machine. The Hopkinton fans cheer us on. Runners toss outer layers to each side. There are layers of discarded sweatshirts. The slow pace and close quarters promotes conversation. The mood is jovial.

I maneuver around slower runners. It seems a lot of the charity runners are running slow. They seem to all be running with partners and unintentionally creating little blockades. I get by them mostly on the right edge of the road. This gives me a chance to high five some kids. Cool. At 1 mile I discard my sweatshirt by tossing it to a guy holding a sign. I heard all discarded clothing is donated to Big Brothers/Big Sisters. He doesn't see it coming and it wraps around his head. "Sorry". Able to run faster now, just not straight. The first water stations are at 2 miles. A string of 10 or 12 volunteers on right side. The first 5 or 6 volunteers are handing out paper cups of gatorade; the next 5 or 6 have water. Then, a little down the road, the same thing is happening on the left side. Nice. But 27,000 runners have passed through here already. There are a lot of cups on the ground despite the volunteers cleaning up. The road is wet with discarded beverages for 25 yards. Closest to the stations the ground is sticky from the gatorade. Hydrating the masses is a messy undertaking.

Hopkinton turns into Ashland. We're running into Boston from the countryside. A lot of families are out to watch. The density of runners remains high. If I extend my arms in any direction, I'll touch another runner. Into Ashland; miles 3 and 4, feeling good. Warmed up, full strides. We're past the blockaders and the density is less. I pass Ray Allen's mom. His shot had won Game 1 of the playoff series against the Knicks the night before. "Great shot by Ray!". She smiles broadly "It was an unbelievable shot!". I am hearing more "Go Big Papi!" calls as I run on the left side of the road. I give a little wave of acknowledgement each time. And the nearer we get to Framingham, more and more "Go Framingham Dad!" calls. As we enter Framingham I yell "Let's hear it Framingham!" and the spectators whoop it up. Feeling good. Lots of energy. Adrenaline. Forcing myself to keep my pace slow.

I'm a rock star running through Framingham. "Go Big Papi!" "Framingham Dad!". I stay on the left side because that's where I know the kids will be. Somewhere between the train station and the center of downtown. 11:45. I'm right on time! I started a couple minutes later than expected, but I made it up by running faster than planned over the first 10k. And there they are! Mariana is holding a brightly colored homemade sign on a broom handle "Go Papi!". Francisco smiles broadly and points as he sees me. They cheer loudly. I step off the road to be with them. Big hugs and a quick picture. They are smiling. Proud. Makes me feel good. I grab a power bar and 2 gels from Francisco's bag. "See you in Newton!". I can't let them down. Got to keep my pace and get to the Newton Fire House at 1:30.


I eat the power bar right away. Too hard to carry. It's dry and sweet. Before the next water station I suck down a hammer gel. "Mountain Huckleberry". yech. Like cough syrup sludge. I drink 2 waters. Do these things help? I dunno. I keep at it. There are guys telling me the score of the Red Sox game. 2-0 in the fourth. Then I see the same thing on a white board. Framingham turns into Natick. I'm no longer a rock star (Framingham and Natick are rivals). Somebody has constructed a mini Eiffel Tower. It must be 3 stories high. There is a lady standing on scaffolding half way up it cheering us on. There's less talking among the runners now. We enter Natick Center, Mile 10. There's music and big crowds. The adrenaline has worn off for me. I feel like I'm 10 miles into it.

On, to Wellesley. There was going to be newspaper reporter interviewing local runners, but I guess I missed it. I'm hitting every left side water station. I alternate between Gatorade and Water. It's a nice day to run. There's a guy with a camera on a makeshift bridge over the road at 13.1. The road is painted with the half way marker and there's a big digital clock. I subtract 53 minutes. 2:06. A little ahead of schedule.

Next comes the “Scream Tunnel”. Wellesley College. Noise! The girls are all lined up along a line of barriers and they are cheering loudly. They're holding "Kiss Me, I'm from Cali”, "Kiss Me, I'm Irish" "Kiss Me, Whatever" signs. There are hundreds of them; all beautiful. What are the requirements for this college? 5”7” 115 pounds and gorgeous? Great fun. Boston College and Cleveland Circle have nothing on these fans!

Legs are feeling sore now. I suck down a 2nd gel; GU Tangerine. Stomach doesn't feel great. Dehydated? Hope not. I drink a couple of waters. I think of the kids waiting for me at 17. We turn onto Route 16 and pass over Route 9, then the Pike. Still running ok. Getting tired though. We pass the Country Club and I think we're approaching the Fire House. We pass 17 and I move over to the left side and begin looking for the kids. They'll be at the street one block before the turn onto Comm Ave. And there they are! They saw me first. Mariana's jumping up and down with her sign. Francisco is sitting on the curb. I'm on time. I'm good. The colors on my shirt have bled some. Not too bad. I'm bleeding a little from chafing on one nip. I put some vaseline on it (Lube Up!). I stretch a little as I talk to the kids. I take the 2nd power bar and another gel from Francisco's bag. Tired. Sore legs. But no blisters or injuries. I know the hard part starts now. But I won't quit if I'm not injured. Onward. "See you at home!".


I feel stiff restarting after just a two or three minute break. I eat the power bar at 18. Heartbreak Hill. 8 more miles. “This is gonna hurt”. Heartbreak is a series of three long hills between the Newton Fire House and Chesnut Hill. It's a stretch of nice homes through one of Boston's wealthiest suburbs. The fans are out in force. Super supportive to all the runners. This is the hardest stretch of the race, because of the hills, and where they lay on the course. Everyone is running slow now. Some are walking. Just keep moving forward....

I am walking at the water stations. Long strides. I make sure I drink it all down. I walk a little further. And I begin a slow trot. Very tired. A cramp under my ribs. I think of what I tell my son: "Nobody ever died from a cramp". 19 mile marker. 7 more. Up the hill. “Keep moving forward”.. I'm in a "Dead Man's Shuffle". Short strides. Arms close to my body. Head down. “I'm gettin' there”. I don't think there's any such thing as pace at this stage. At least not for me. 20. Getting there.

And then somebody says "This is the top of Heartbreak Hill". And I look up. I’m on level ground! Boston College. "It's LOUD". The kids are SHOUTING at us. Big parties. Loud music. More drunks than I remember from last year. They yell encouragement to us. They offer us beers. One kid runs out to me. "GO BIG PAPI!" "YOU CAN DO IT!" "YOU GOT THIS!". It's always awkward dealing with drunks; harder when you're nearing exhaustion. Easier just to give him what he wants. And he means well. He High Fives me.

We're past the worst of it. There are no more hills. But we're really not able to run either. Slow jog. I wish I were able to take advantage of the downward slopes and flat area. We go through Cleveland Circle and the crowds are thick. Then we're in Brookline and we can see the Citgo Sign. Won't be long now. We go under Mass Ave and I know we're getting close. I pick up my pace and tell myself to "Finish with Dignity". Then we're on Boylston Street, a wide open boulevard lined with fans. Way down the road we can see the blue banner that is the Finish Line. Everyone is running now! I finish clapping hard. 4:27.

I've finished my second Boston Marathon!

Monday Post Run. The race is super well organized all throughout. The finish line is no different. They move us along away from the finish line. I fist bump another runner. A volunteer puts a foil wrap on me and says "Great Job!". Another tapes it closed over my chest. A third hands me a bottle of water. There are more looking for runners who may need additional help. There is a big medical tent nearby. I finish the water and look for more. They are giving medals to registered runners. I step away. The wind blows the foil wrap over my shoulder. Windy. I walk/shuffle toward Back Bay Station. I really want to sit. Get off my legs. I sit on a curb and a runner says "Knees?". Her friend (mother?) hands me a bottle of water. "Thanks".

After some time I move on to Back Bay Station. I consider stopping somewhere for a celebratory beer, but decide against it. The short walk to the train station feels longer than the last mile of the run. The walk downstairs to the train platform reveals to me that my thigh muscles have had it. There are commuters and runners waiting for the Worcester Express. The benches on the platform are full. I sit on the ground. The train comes and we have to walk the length of the platform. Cruel. I push ahead in the queue. I really need a seat. I enter the train. There are a few empty seats scattered around. I find a woman in a business suit at a table with her bags on the seat next to her. "Excuse Me" I say quietly. She moves the bags and looks at me. Or smells me. haha. She squeezes as far as possible away from me. Bet she's never had to share a seat with anybody like me! The train conductor walks through taking tickets. I pull $20 from my shoe. "You a runner?" (duh!) "Yes" (too tired to be wise). "You're all set". "Thank you". As she walks away I say under my breath "At least I got something out of the deal". The guy across the table says "And that makes it all worth it". It feels good to rest. It's hitting me now that I really finished. Nice.

I get off at Framingham and have to walk up 4 flights to cross over the tracks. Cruel! Walking down 4 flights on the other side is much worse. How did my leg muscles get shorter? I walk to where I left my car and think "I'm doin' ok". I find a water bottle in the car and drink it down in three swigs. I drive home and my kids greet me loudly. Hugs all around. Some more water. A long hot shower. Nice. Fresh clothes. I make my way downstairs and lay on the couch with the kids. Dry. Clean. Sore. Content!

Countdown to Boston

Countdown to Boston is 3 days. All systems go. Weather forecast looking good! 50's with a tail wind (nice). Hoping to have bro take the kids to watch in Framingham and Newton Firehouse. Finish Line? Dunno.

Runners will be released in 3 waves this year. The 3rd wave is scheduled to go at 10:40. Bandits will follow. Around 10:50?

Optimistically hoping for a 4:15 finish; a 9:45/mile pace.

Here's my itinerary. If all goes well ...

Framingham.............mile 6.....around 11:45
Natick.......................mile 10...around 12:25
Wellesley College....mile 12...around 12:45
Newton Firehouse....mile 17...around 1:30


Then the hills begin and who knows what'll happen. Last year I faded badly after 17. Theoretically ..

Boston College.......mile 21...around 2:15
Cleveland Circle.....mile 22...around 2:25

If I make it this far, I am gonna finish!

Copley - Finish......mile 26...around 3:05

We'll see. I make no promises!

Here's a Course Description
http://www.boston-discovery-guide.com/boston-marathon-route.html

Conn Iggulden

A guy at work turned me on to an author that I am enjoying immensely. The author's name is Conn Iggulden. He writes historical fiction and it's fantastic!

So far he's written two series. One is a set of novels about Genghis Khan, one of my favorite historical characters. The other is about Julius Caesar. Each series is based on facts, with liberal use of creative license. I thought both series were great.

The author does a great deal of research into his subjects, as well as the times and places they lived. He uses this knowledge to compliment his tremendous gift for storytelling.













In the Conqueror novels, you get a sense of how tough it was to live on the Mongolian plains in the 12th century. You come to appreciate the genius of Genghis Khan, as well as his ruthlessness. You admire the strength of his will and his perserverence over all obstacles. You see his ability to unite and lead. You see how he recognizes technologies that may be used in war. And you are blown away by his raw ambition! And you learn of the Mongols acceptance of different religions and cultures. There are plots and subplots, rivalries and power struggles. My favorite character in the novels is Tsubodai, the greatest military general I'd never heard of.







In the Emporer series, you see Julius Caesar in action. Caesar was the perfect man for his times. A strong general and leader; a politician in overdrive. You feel like you are with him battling foreign and civil wars. The author gives the reader the feeling of comradarie of soldiers must have felt around the fire after a long day of marching off to war. Brutus is brought to life in this one as well; with a special guest appearance from Cleopatra!

This stuff is fascinating reading. It never gets boring. The only problem comes when it ends and there's no more.

Wake Up America

A week ago I got a call from a community organizer. He asked me to become a Town Meeting Member. In many New England towns, decisions are made by community 'Yea' or 'Nea' votes. The town I live in is too big to get all the residents together, so each voting precinct gets an allotment of Town Meeting seats. The community organizer wanted me to fill one of the seats in my district that had become vacant.





Wednesday night it was 8 degrees out. There was deep snow and ice all around. It had been dark for 3 hours already. And there I was, going door-to-door, asking people to sign my Town Meeting Member nomination papers.


Initially I thought it would be a lot like selling fundraisers for kids' sports. We've done that lots of times. But that was always during the daytime. Maybe this would be more like a cross between that and Halloween -- going door to door for a good cause at night. Boy was I wrong!


Between 7:30 and 8:30 pm, I visited 25 or 30 middle class homes close to where I live. I wasn't on the street where I live (I was saving that for later). These people didn't know me. I got to see how average Americans react to a stranger's knock on their door on a typical winter weeknight. It was fascinating.
 


Only three or four of the houses had nobody home. Looks like Americans stay home during the week. Everybody who was home was surprised to have an unannounced visitor. A bunch were visibly scared. Two complained that it was too late for me to be disturbing them. Hmm, 8pm is too late? And 2 rudely dismissed me. Maybe they thought I was trying to sell them something? In only a few of the houses did I find a man and a woman together. It may have been that one or the other happened to be out, but there weren't many cases of that model family visible.



Nearly all seemed disinterested with local government (expected). Nearly all were registered voters (unexpected). And all but two signed my nomination papers (I think just to get rid of me). Most were guardedly polite. Only one couple seemed genuinely interested in meeting a neighbor (a lonely elderly couple). Few were friendly.



So what were they all doing at 8 o'clock on a Wednesday night? I couldn't always tell, but most seemed to be watching tv. Or maybe they were on their computers. A bunch were on the phone. And a few were either cleaning the house or doing home improvements/repairs. One house had a group of people visiting.

What had I expected? I dunno. I think I was expecting more friendliness. I was expecting more activity at least. Most of these people were sitting on their butts and seemed bothered that their nightly 5 hour tv marathon was being interrupted. What kind of life are they living? Aren't they terribly bored?


I wondered how I'd react in the same situation. I don't think I'd be scared. I might be wary of a scam. I'd be friendlier, for sure. I definitely wouldn't mind being torn away from the tv. Of course, there's a good chance I wouldn't be home at 8 o'clock (too many activities). And if I was home, I'd likely be busy with the kids. I surely wouldn't be rude or complain that 8 o'clock was too late! No, I'd react better than these people did.



America has been lulled to sleep by 'entertainment'. TV, the computer and video games are narcotics. We are hooked on them. We resent when another human wants to make face-to-face contact with us. We need to wake up before it gets worse.

Wake Up America! You're getting too boring!

Joining Peace Corps

A hundred billion years ago, in a galaxy far, far away. I was working for a large insurance company in Connecticut (Aetna, Glad I met ya'). I was two years out of college and had just finished paying off my student loans. I was debt and responsibility free! (WOW!!) I wasn't much into material possessions and I wasn't at all ambitious. Going to the office every day with only two weeks vacation a year had lost all appeal.

Then a friend was accepted into Peace Corps. They'd been assigned to Nepal. It seemed wildly exciting; living overseas, learning new languages, meeting new people, doing new things. How cool was that?! So I filled out an application for myself and sent it in. I went to the regional office in NYC to be interviewed. There were recommendations to send in, medical clearances; lots of paperwork and formalities. And eventually, I too was accepted into Peace Corps. I can still remember the recruiter calling me at my little cubicle at work and giving me the news. I had just one question "Where on earth is Malawi?"




Peace Corps is a US government development agency that was started in 1961. You may have heard the famous quote from John F. Kennedy's inaguration speech: ""My fellow Americans, ask not what your country can do for you -- ask what can you do for your
country." Well, that got the ball rolling. And it's kept on rolling for almost 50 years now.

But what does Peace Corps do? I sure as heck didn't know. The image I had back then was of newly graduated college kids living in mud huts and helping dig latrines. "The toughest job you'll ever love". But it's not really like that. The one thing all these poor countries have in abundance is cheap labor. So they don't really need American college kids for that. No. The ditch digger image was all wrong.


There are 3 goals to Peace Corps:
1. Providing technical assistance
2. Helping people outside the United States understand U.S. culture
3. Helping Americans understand the cultures of other countries
So Peace Corps is there to help out, sure -- that's the first goal. But the next two goals are cultural exchange.

Peace Corps Volunteers have wonderfully altruistic attitudes and hope to improve the living conditions of the poor in the country to which they are assigned. The first goal is definitely the priority of volunteers while in service. They join to help. Once on assignment, volunteers make a difference on personal and community levels.




The cultural exchange is equally important to the work the volunteers do. Volunteers live in the communities where they work. Over the two years they are there, they become part of the community. It's great for people in other countries to see Americans as helpful and hard working. Kids in those places grow up with a very positive image of America. And the volunteers gain new family, friends and an appreciation for another culture. They take that home with them and share it with their American family, friends and coworkers for the rest of their lives. Peace Corps is all about cultural exchange.



I joined Peace Corps with a sense that I wanted to help a greater cause. I wanted to share my good fortune; to help those less fortunate. I was eager to learn and I was looking for adventure. While on assignment, my focus shifted to helping a set of individuals in my community. I developed personal connections and friendships. I shared my values and learned theirs. I learned the lessons of a lifetime.

Nowadays, there are roughly 8,000 Volunteers


serving in 80 countries. The average age of a volunteer is 28. Probably most volunteers are between 24 and 27, with a number of 60+ grey hairs upping the average. The total budget is $400 million. That works out to an average of 100 volunteers and $5 million per country / per year. Almost all of that goes toward administrative and volunteer support costs.



Malawi, it turned out, is a small sliver of a country in south central aftica. A tremendous 360-mile lake of the same name runs along its eastern side. It's peaceful, has beautiful weather, and the people are magnificently hospitable. It is promoted for tourism as 'The warm heart of Africa'. My stay in Malawi was unfortunately brief, just under 6 months, but I went on to serve for two years in the Dominican Republic - that deserves many blogs of its own.

One Hundred Mile Wilderness

A zillion years ago .. Another lifetime ..

A group of us were sitting around a camp fire drinking cold beers after a day hiking in the White Mountains. Somebody was talking about a hike they dreamed of making. 'The One Hundred Mile Wilderness' it was called. The last 100 miles of the Appalachian Trail through the back woods of Maine. The longest stretch of the entire AT without passing through a town or even crossing a paved road. We all agreed it sounded awesome. A month later 2 of us were on it!

My friend Tom made all the arrangements. We took the subway from my apartment in Somerville to South Station, then a bus to Portland, and then an arranged ride to a little town called Monson. I remember feeling silly carrying a fully loaded backback onto the T. It weighed 45 pounds, but it felt more like 100.

There was a boarding house in Monson that accomodated AT hikers. They provided a comfortable bed, a hot shower and terrific meals. Plus we got to meet the real hikers; the guys who had started 2100 miles away in Georgia, months before, and were on the final leg of their journey - to the AT trail terminus on the summit of Mount Katahdin. Those guys had a million stories to tell!


The One Hundred Mile Wilderness passes through a beautiful New England forest, across pristine rivers and streams, and over uncrowded mountains with terrific views. It is well marked and maintained, superbly so when you consider how inaccessible it is. It really is a beautiful place.
  

Tom had detailed maps and he'd planned well. There are lean-to's every 10 miles or so. We'd try to spend the nights in or around these shelters. There would be a river, creek or spring nearby; and other hikers. We didn't have the best gear, but we had what we needed. We had made arrangements to meet friends in Baxter State Park, at the other end of the trail, for our ride home. It was late summer. Our chances of success were good.

The first couple days were rough. The pack was SO heavy. And I wasn't in the best of shape. I had serious doubts about walking the full 100 miles and began thinking about bailing out at the lumber road we'd cross half way in. Tom complained less but had a bigger problem. His feet were blistering. And, after a day of walking in the rain, developed a nasty rash. But he toughed it out. As we progressed north, the packs got lighter, the hills became more gentle and we got used to it.
It became fun.

What else do I remember of my long ago hike? I remember being tired. On top of the walking, we needed to filter our water, prepare our meals, set up tents, bathe, and be cafeful to keep our critical gear dry. I remember enjoying the feeling of getting far away from everything. I remember standing atop a nameless mountain, looking for miles over green forest and seeing no sign of civilization. I remember walking for a mile behind a giant moose. I remember sitting along a river bank in the middle of nowhere watching beavers swim and play. I remember talking to complete strangers who were genuinely happy to see another person. I remember spending 8 days with a good friend. And I remember the wonderful sense of accomplishment from completing a great journey!