Be forewarned, today's musings from my perambulations are all over the map but did culminate in a spanking brought about by my hubris!
Today's ramble through the byways of Long Island brought me from Northport to West Hills and back via Commack, Dix Hills, Huntington Station, and Green Lawn. A big 30 mile loop that had some climbs, some flats and a lot of sun!
I've spoken before of how I like to listen to music on my old school iPod with an ear bud in my right ear so I can still hear traffic (and my phone if it rings) but I like to load my "Cycling" playlist with music that motivates me, oftentimes giving me blasts from the past as I remember particular times in my life when a particular song was popular. But I have this rule that I don't start playing until I get at least three miles in which is usually when I get out of Northport and onto whatever route I'm following for that day.
What I've started doing the last year instead is going over CPR compression rates in my head. You see, not too long ago the American Heart Association recommended that instead of the 100 beats per minute for compressions that was the norm for a long time, we should be compressing at 100-120 beats per minute instead. Now while many people think it funny to compress to Queen's "Another One Bites the Dust" in their head, you know considering the irony and all, other's like to use instead (and one that was suggested to us the first time I got my CPR card) "Stayin' Alive" by the BeeGees. A fun tune but it always brought back too many flashbacks of not getting to dance at high school dances (no one would dance when I asked) and also the scene from The Office which is precipitated by Dwight trying to teach them all about "Emergency Preparedness". Unfortunately, the excitement causes one of them to have a heart attack and so they all must take a mandatory CPR course;
Unfortunately, at 104 beats per minute, it really is on the slow side but it doesn't stop people from using it as a go to song to keep the rhythm. I was once part of a call in which we needed to continue with manual CPR (they had taken off the Lucas device) in the Trauma room. The attendant wasn't compressing at fast enough rate and one of the nurses actually started singing "Staying Alive" to get him to keep the rhythm. Unfortunately, this particular individual was apparently rhythmically challenged and even with her tuneful melody couldn't keep the beat so the medic and I stepped in. We were damned if we were going to lose that patient because someone couldn't keep the beat. Of course, if 104 beats per minute is your jam, you could always use "The Imperial March" from Star Wars - it too is 104 bpm and immensely more fun to hum in the back of the ambulance!
I actually have a really good sense of rhythm and I attribute it to my dance background and my time playing rhythm guitar at the LITMA Celtic Jam sessions on Sunday mornings. And I've put it to good use on far too many calls. One of the best compliments I ever received was while doing ER rotations for my CC class when, while assisting during a code, one of the nurses said to me, "nice compressions". I guess my rhythm was good. One of my goals for the not too distant future (once I help my boys get through their EMT class) is to become a CPR instructor.
Which is why I know the AHA guidelines for CPR are now 100-120 beats per minute, which means 110-115 is the sweet spot, not 104 beats per minute. Now there are a LOT of great songs that land in that range. AC/DC's "Highway to Hell";
Or if you want to stick with Queen and you're feeling a little "Under Pressure";
And although I listen to some Queen (it brings back good memories of the 70's and 80's) when I ride. I tend to listen to a lot more Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Breaking Benjamin, Foo Fighters and Green Day. Indeed, one of my favorite songs in that sweet spot range to pedal to is Green Day's "21st Century Breakdown";
Sometimes though when I ride things happen to my olde iPod and it gets stuck. Probably it's because I hit a wrong button when it's hidden in my back pocket. Today was one of those days and here's one of the songs that I listened to today before my iPod ran out of power, when I was feeling a little of Def Leppard's "Hysteria";
In the late 80's and early 90's I listened to a lot this band and bring back lots of great memories, particularly of my days in Ballet Dallas. And as I heard this song playing today I thought of my time with the company. I was fortunate enough to dance with them for two seasons before I moved to New York to pursue my dream of being a modern dancer. You see, at 5' 6 1/2" I was a little short to really be a ballet dancer as most of the girls were almost as tall as I was. There was one, who I recently was blessed to get back in touch with who inspired me. She was always told she was too short to be a ballerina but she had toured Europe and was one of the principals of Ballet Dallas so I thought maybe if she could do it, I could to. I just had to find my niche. So I thought maybe I could move to New York and try modern dance. Little did I know it would actually lead me to musical theatre - and the rest is history. So thank you Vicky, I wouldn't have the life I have now except for your example!
And a little after all of this musing over how Ballet Dallas had such a seminal influence on my life my iPod died but I was at the top of a great place to stop for a mid ride snack of banana and granola bar.
(Yep, just trying to commune with nature!)
But I digress. Where was I? Oh, yes - Is 110-115 bpm a little fast for pedalling? Yes, yes it is and I don't always keep up with that rhythm and use it more for the motivation than anything else. But when I don't have music, as happened midway through my ride, I go over CPR in my head and use that range and try to pedal to it and after every 30 pedal revolutions I take two deep breaths. Then I start all over again!
Well all was going well and I was feeling pretty good. My average mph wasn't anything to write home (or in this blog) about but I was feeling pretty energetic. I didn't have music but I was keeping a good tempo when I looked over my shoulder and I saw another cyclist about an 1/8th of a mile behind me. "Well!," I thought to myself, "I need to work harder going up this hill then so he doesn't catch me."
And this is where hubris (and this unknown cyclist) not only back hand slapped me, but spanked me......HARD!!!! Just as I crested the hill (thinking, to myself he was farther behind now) he passed me and (this is the part that really got me), easily and with no effort said, "Great day, huh?" And then he slowly moved further away as if I were standing still!!!!! I mean, yes I'm not in great shape now but I thought I was getting better. But now I know I've been kidding myself. Uggggggghhhhhhh! I just wanted to drop over on the side of the road and have someone perform compressions on me so that maybe, just maybe I might have the energy to go faster. Yeah, yeah, I know it doesn't work that way but still.
So, today's meandering reminded me of a few things. I'm grateful for so much in my life and for all of the experiences that have brought me to the place I am now. Ballet Dallas led to New York. New York led to musical theatre. Musical Theatre led me to meet my wife Amy and but for her love and support I wouldn't be a teacher and have had a small part in the careers of so many young theatre professionals. And because of my wife I have three amazing children. And because of those children I decided to become an EMT and try to help my community and learn CPR. And all because I was too short to be a ballet dancer!
Oh, and apparently there's another song that's perfect in that sweet spot for compressions when doing CPR. It's one you've heard often and probably know all the lyrics by heart;
Well, that's all the musings from today's ride. I won't be getting out tomorrow since I'm working a shift at CVAC but I'll be getting out again on Monday. Till then, keep on pushing.....doot, doo, doot da doo!!!!
I'll see you on the road!
FFR - Nothing! I'm glad to see that none of our furry friends were flattened!
RRL - Nothing unusual, just lots and lots of discarded gloves and surgical masks! Clean up after yourselves, people!!!!!
This morning I didn't want to ride. I was tired, no, I was exhausted. See, I worked the overnight shift again last night at CVAC and although we weren't needed to go out on any calls, whenever the calls and the subsequent signals that indicate a rig's status go out it disrupts whatever slouching towards REM might be occurring in my brain. So after I got home I was determined to go back to sleep. Yet my mind wouldn't let me, it had another purpose in mind.
There are movies you watch that just seem to inspire. Perhaps it was/is Rocky, or Rudy, or Remember the Titans. Maybe it's a movie like The Blind Side that shows what somebody's potential can be if their just given the right break. Or a film like The Life of Pi, Schindler's List, The Pursuit of Happyness or any number of others that will inspire you to never give up. The other night I found another movie to add to that list - 100 Meters a 2016 Spanish (yes, get ready for subtitles) film directed by Marcel Barrena. It tells the true story of a man diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis who became determined he would finish an Iron-Man Competition after being told by doctors that within a year of his diagnosis he would not be able to walk 100 meters. I was originally looking for a break from my bingeing of old YouTube cycling videos and went onto the Netflix search and typed (surprise) "Cycling" expecting to pull up something like American Flyers, Breaking Away, Rising from Ashes, or Pantani. Instead, I found this movie and I'm so very glad I did.
Much of my life I've known people who have been fighting debilitating illnesses. When I was very young it was one of my cousins battling Leukemia. It was the first time I knew children could get sick. When I became a part of the dance world I became close with people who were struggling with anorexia, Lupus, Grave's disease, and degenerative physical conditions that were making it excruciating for them to dance - but they kept going because they loved it. As I grew older, five members of my family fought their own battles with cancer and, I'm so grateful to say, won them. I worked for many years at Sunrise Day Camp getting close to young people who were still fighting their battles with cancer. Too many times I received the emails from the director telling us one of our young charges had passed. And then my father was diagnosed a number of years ago with Parkinson's. So despite my reticence to watch this movie, once I learned it dealt with a neurological disease, it drew me in and kept me there.
As I watched the movie (I won't spoil the plot here, I really want you to put it on your watch list), one based on a true story, I became very conscious of the fact that the protagonist Ramon was just a normal guy. He wasn't someone who was particular active or athletic. He wasn't a hot shot athlete struck down in the middle of a stellar soccer career. He was just a guy that worked a lot of hours, trying to provide for his family until he was diagnosed with MS. He goes through the stages of grief, lashing out at everyone around him until his wife tells him, "Your children didn't choose a bitter father." It reminded me of the fact that as parents it's our job to take care of our children, no matter what is going on in our lives. It's not their fault, they don't get to choose who begats them. We need to be the adults and do what we can for them. It is up to us to make the effort to allow them to be children, no matter what is happening in our lives. Even if, as one of the characters puts it, "we all have an incurable degenerative disease, which is life." It's a touching and inspiring story, made even more so by the fact that it was a set of unfortunate events that were actually lived, and to a great extent overcome, by this man. I won't reveal the ending except to say that at the end it was "Dedicated to all those who fight to complete their 100 meters." It was remembering those words and thinking I have nothing at all to complain about compared to Ramon that dragged me off my futon and made me get "fattening the curve" tuchus out the door.
And as I headed out still thinking about the movie I decided as a sort of tribute I would ride MS(D) today - Middle Slow Distance. You see usually during this time of year I'm commuting on my bike and often taking the long way (30 miles) home in what I like to call LSD - Long Slow Distance. With the threat of rain this morning I realized I couldn't be out that long but I wanted to still pay tribute to the fortitude of the man who inspired the movie so I vowed if I couldn't ride fast, I'd at least climb some hills and make a go of pushing myself. While on my ride I also thought of some artwork I had once come across which had been inspired by multiple sclerosis. It seems the artist Elizabeth Jameson had once been a practicing attorney who was diagnosed with MS and turned to artwork. Her artwork is based on and inspired by MRI's of her brain. A true lesson in how to make art of what others would deem to be the utmost in misfortune. Something so many of my fellow actors and theatre teachers are trying to do in this Life Amongst Covid. The artwork that begins today's blog is an example of her work.
But as I am wont to do, I allowed my perambulations to also give rein to my musings and found other thoughts coming to my head as I reached that state of flow that focusing on the revolutions of my pedals often brings. I thought of our current state of social distancing and how even on this ride I carry a surgical mask in my rear pocket in case I have to stop and speak with someone. I thought how many cars weren't on Jericho Turnpike as I crossed it near Huntington Station (usually a busy stretch of road). I thought of how many people are actively (and non social distancing) protesting the stay at home orders, some of them giving lame reasons such as needing a haircut or wanting their nails done. And I thought of some of the people that I have come to know and respect utterly in the brief years I've been an EMT. I thought of how people thank me when they see me in my EMT uniform as I'm heading to work and how I truly don't believe I deserve it because I'm in no way doing the kind of service they are. THEY are the real heroes out there. The nurses I know who are putting in back to back 12 hour shifts and then going home to an empty house. EMT's who I wish I could be like working in NYC or in the roughest districts on Long Island answering multiple (often in the double digits) cardiac arrest calls a day as patient's organs fail. Those are the real heroes in my mind and the type of First Responder I wish I could be.
Where all of those thoughts came from are from a conversation I had with a former ACTer (a member of The Association of Creative Thespians, the SHS drama club), a young man named Eric Kravit who curates a podcast titled "Keeping Connected" here on Long Island. He had sent out a message last week wanting to contact with "normal people dealing with the every day struggle of trying to maintain their livelihood during the pandemic". I reached out to him, primarily in my capacity as a theater teacher trying to teach what is essentially a kinesthetic subject through a digital means. I also spoke with him on the phone about how Little Mermaid was cancelled because of the virus and how we've been keeping up the hope (but which seems to be quickly dwindling now) of perhaps restaging the production before the end of the school year. And of how I've been also spending my most of my time at home in an 8x10 room because of patient contact I've had in my duties as an EMT. After initially battling a lot of technical difficulties Eric and I had the chance to have a conversation which will eventually be edited as part of his podcast. We spoke about a lot of things but one of the things we talked a lot about was how being an EMT has changed from pre-Covid to post-Covid. In essence, it's changed everything as we can't answer a call for someone falling without taking precautions that it might be someone who has Covid, has been in contact with someone who has had Covid, or that someone else in the home may have Covid. It's definitely changed the way we all handle patient care. At the end of the session he thanked me and my family for all we do for the community from serving as an EMT, to shaving our heads for Saint Baldrick's to riding cross country as a family to raise money for Sunrise. Am I a hero? Certainly not - as I told Eric I'm just a teacher who doesn't have the money I wish at my disposal to donate to all of the causes I believe in. What I do have is time and a still workable body that can do what I tell it to - well most of the time.
And so today it told me to get my butt on my bike and ride because there are a lot of people who can't - either because they're battling a disease that is getting the best of them or because they are being the REAL heroes and working 12 hour shifts in the hospital trying to save patients from dying. And while I rambled along the boulevards I also thought of those nurses who just the other day stood in front of the "good people" who were protesting the stay at home orders in Colorado. There were nurses standing in front of the vehicles keeping the protesters from blocking access to the ER. One of the nurses was of Asian heritage and one of the protesters screamed at him to "go to China". And the sheer stupidity of that mentality struck me hard. I myself was raised in a Korean-American household and while I don't look it, my sister who is a nurse does and I thought how completely incensed I would be to have someone yell that at her. Here are people literally putting their lives on the line to save people they may never see again while these bloated, self-important cretins are yelling about how they need their hair cut and nails done. And just because someone is of Asian heritage doesn't give anyone the right to to yell those sorts of things at them. This is the America we now live in. Not the land of the free, and the home of the brave. Rather it's the land of the xenophobic, and the home of the coward. No, not all, but the vocal minority has been spewing their hate for four years now rising to a crescendo of hatred and intolerance, in their quest to turn our beautiful nation into a quagmire of myopic misconceptions and untruth.
And it was about that time in my ride that Rammstein's "Amerika" started playing on my iPod. Now if you're not up on your German Dance Metal (or your German for that matter) I've included the official YouTube video with subtitles here for you;
A little bizarre, a little out there, yes - but it does conjure up one idea that for generations was true - America used to be THE leader of the world. It was the place where others wanted to go. It was the culture that peoples from across the globe wanted to emulate. No longer I fear. We have become a place of ridicule, the butt of jokes globally, in no small part because of the way we treat our Real Heroes.
Be well. Take care of yourselves and your families. And I'll see you on the road
And because I know there were readers who were once amused by all the detritus I observed on my rides, I'm bringing back the RRL (Random Refuse Log) - a description of all the out of place jetsam I see on the side of the road - and the FFR (Flattened Fauna Report) - a description of the fauna that didn't make it to the other side. Not because I take morbid delight in it (although I have a friend Nancy who in her youth took great delight in running over already flattened roadkill), but because I think it's an interesting zoological observation of the comings and goings of the Long Island wildlife.
RRL - Shopping Cart, Unopened can of pinto beans, Steak Knife, Beach Ball, 8 nitrile/latex gloves
FFR - One Possum, Two birds (I think due to the fact there are fewer cars on the road)
For those who, once upon a time, read my blog with some consistency I am sorry. I have no real excuse except I got overwhelmed by life and found I had no time to sit down and write anymore. When I had my previous blog (www.connorsarmy.blogspot.com) I made it a point of writing every few days - and virtually every day during the Cross Country event to raise money for Sunrise Day Camp - but as that part of my life wound down I in essence shut down that site and began The Contemplative Cyclist site as a way to write about more in my life than just the efforts my family and I were making to support cancer research. For almost two years I had begun this new blog which was all about the random thoughts I often had during my various bicycle rides along (mostly) Long Island's byways. Unfortunately, life in all of it's complications interrupted and the joyous luxury of jotting down my thoughts became one of those things that had to be jettisoned in the name of maintaining balance in my life.
So again, for those of you who enjoyed reading my random musings, I'm sorry it's been such a long hiatus - just a bit over one and half years - though it seems people still have gone on to view my contemplations. Apparently the blog is up to 1,160 views which blows my mind since I've not written in over two years.
And what a topsy turvy world we live in today compared to when I last posted on October 5, 2018! Since then I've become a fully certified and practicing New York Certified EMT-Critical Care (essentially, I passed my Suffolk County REMAC Credentialing), ACT has produced five AMAZING productions (a truncated The Little Mermaid - more on that in a future post -, a revival - for us - of Almost, Maine, Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing, and a revival of Museum), my sons have both become Eagle Scouts, both of the boys have begun EMT class, and our country has become virtually shut down by the Covid-19 pandemic. Because of this I (like every other teacher I know) have been teaching classes online and trying to recreate my entire curriculum to do so remotely. Not the most easy thing to do when you're teaching acting and dance classes. In addition, because I came into contact with a patient who tested positive for Covid-19 I've been relegated to spending 90% of my time in an 8x10 room. It used to be the boys' room when they were young, was converted into Sarah and Amy's sewing room and now it has become my "Cubby of Solitude" and it's where I try to keep myself when I'm at home. It looks a little like this;
So I get out to ride now when I can. Not an every day occurrence yet, but I'm working up to it. It's been four weeks we've been out of school and a week and a half since I've been living in my little room so cycling has become my way to clear my head. And when I ride, I contemplate and one of the things that got me ruminating quite a bit on today's journey were the lyrics to The Weepies "The World Spins Madly On".
Now while some of you may know the song from "Scrubs", "One Tree Hill", "Grey's Anatomy" or even "The Good Wife", my own connection with this song is from a choreography project one of my students once created for my Dance 3 class at Syosset High School. This was way back in 2012 and I loved the song so much I added it to my cycling playlist and I listen to it a lot of the time. As a matter of fact, I really love most of that "Say I am You" album but I will always be intrigued by the official video that was put out by the group which used lots of stop action Claymation to tell the story;
It wasn't the lyrics per se in regard to the song and their referral to the breakdown of a relationship, but there were a few that REALLY struck a chord with my as I turned the pedals;
Everything that I said I'd do Like make the world brand new And take the time for you I just got lost and slept Right through the dawn
And the world spins madly on I let the day go by I always say goodbye I watch the stars from my window sill
It made me think back to younger days when I, like all young people, was a complete idealist and thought so much about how to make the world a new and different place. That I would make a difference in how the world turned on it's axis. But as we grow older we realize that the path to changing the world isn't necessarily something that happens in a sudden flash, sometimes it happens in increments - a little here, a little there, an encouraging word, a kind deed, a consistent push to make our corner of the world brand new and different. And then of course, I thought of the call I went on in an attempt to make a little of Northport a better place and that's why I'm watching the stars from my window sill. But I'd do it all again because it's what I can do to make the world a better place.
Now I have no illusions. I don't go on near the calls that some of my friends and colleagues go on. I can sit for days in my room and not have any tones go out at all. Or if they do, I can't respond because I'm either out on my bike or I'm working my job for the Commack Volunteer Ambulance Corps (CVAC). I'm not working in an ER or ICU like so many I know are doing even as I type these words. THEY are heroes in every sense of the word. Me, I'm just trying to do the best I can to help those I can. I wish I could do more. I am trying to use this time to study on all the knowledge that eluded me during CC class. Yes, I passed the class but so much of it was by rote. Now I'm utilizing a little time every day to studying and reviewing in order to become a better practitioner. I'm hoping once the stay-at-home order is lifted I can go and pick the brains of the Northport Paramedics to practice some of the skills I need to refresh. Again, it's not much but it's the best I can do for now. Plus, now that William and James are studying to be EMT's themselves, I want to make an effort to give them a good example, not hide in my room and not answer calls. I'm not in this for the glory, but to make that difference and to hopefully, in a small way, make the world brand new.
And as I continued pedalling I thought more about the social distancing. Now I know I've posted in the past about how I prefer to ride alone rather than in the tour-de-France-fantasy-wannabe-MAMILS-ride groups because, quite frankly, most of them take themselves far too seriously. So I thought about how so much of what we have to do now is all about not coming into contact with others. So as the song "All By Myself" played through my ear bud (I only wear one in my right ear so I can still hear traffic) not the Eric Carmen rock ballad of the mid-70's or even the Celine Dion cover, but rather the bonus track from Green Day's album "Dookie";
I reflected on how this has changed so much about our daily lives. We ALL have had to learn how to work from home. Teachers and students are mapping new territory in how to learn online. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would have to teacher theatre online and work out lessons to help my young charges grow as artists and not just give them busy work. I (like most teachers I've talked with) am working harder now than I have any single year since my first year as a teacher. Are we we making sacrifices? Hell yes, it's not easy to focus on teaching when your own children need your help and attention. Are we heroes? Not so much.
Yes, there are heroes among us who are daily going out and serving mankind by trying to minister to the sick. And there are those who are literally putting their lives at risk to help others. Some have actually died after contracting the virus from treating patients. And as much as we like to bemoan the fact that we are stuck in our rooms/homes/apartments "all by [ourselves]" we have to realize that only by doing this can we stop the spread in it's track. So many are calling for the social distancing to be over because "we HAVE to get the economy reopened". One GOP senator even said that "letting more Americans die from the novel Coranavirus is the lesser of two evils" compared to a recession. But if we do that we essentially shit all over the sacrifices made by all those first responders, nurses, doctors, PA's and others who have sacrificed themselves and their families to care for those patients.
So yes, it is hard. And yes, staying put is sometimes like water board torture (depending on how you get along with your family). And yes, it sucks singing "All By Myself" in whichever version you choose. But this is unlike anything every experienced by the world in over 100 years! This WILL be over some day but it's going to take all of us listening to the experts, the scientists with years of experience in fighting infectious diseases, not the petulant whims of science denying politicians who are worried about reelection. Oh, and if you haven't figured out by now - THIS IS NOT A HOAX!
That's all for now, I promise to begin posting again in a more timely fashion as I ride (and ruminate) more.
I'll see you on the road!
Random Road Refuse - 16 nitrile (I'm hoping) gloves - none at the same place, three surgical masks, a pink unicorn stuffed animal
I never was a big fan of President John Adams (I'm more partial to Samuel Adams, actually) but my ride today put me in a serious frame of mind and coming across this quote of his, I thought I'd share something that has been weighing on my mind since the entire Brett Kavanaugh debacle began.
I've posted a bit of my politicial views on my personal Facebook page but run into the problem of often when I do, friends and acquaintances tend to hijack my posts and spew their own views all over my page. This tends to turn into name calling on both sides of the Great Divide where it veers into an exercise in emotional, idealistic keyboarding. But if truth be told, one of the many reasons I stopped writing on this blog two years ago was because after the election of 2016 there was a time when I just couldn't wrap my head around what happened enough to write about it. I was in such a state of incredulous shock that it was hard to fathom that our nation which began with such high hopes and ideals all those many years ago could have become dragged down to the point of electing a pompous, lying, misogynistic wind-bag of a failed reality TV star as our president. Yes, we did elect the actor Ronald Reagan as president but at least he was honorable. As much as I didn't agree with all of his policies, at least you knew they were coming from a place of real honor and belief. I'm sorry, but try as I may I can't find any honor in this small minded pissant "we" have elected, I just can't. And yes, I put "we" in quotes because he won the electoral and not the popular. I'm truly convinced that this entire endeavor is not about "Making America Great Again" but about "Making Trump Great Again". The recent revelation of how he defrauded the government and received so much money from his parents (not the $1 million he claimed) just shows why he doesn't release his taxes - he knows he's not as wealthy as he says he is and if someone really investigated them, he would probably go to jail. Nevertheless, this piece of filth America "elected" is going to rape our country and use it for the profit of himself, his family and his benefactors and when the dust clears the rest of America will be left worse off than we've been for decades. And it will take decades to undo the evil he will cause.
And yet, my posts tend to get hijacked because of the many and diverse people I know and have reconnected with via the magic of Facebook. As much as it can become a time and energy suck (and really piss me off when my obstinate "friends" continue to spew their Trump-induced delusions) for some people, it has become a blessing in that it has allowed me to "rediscover" some of my old friendships. Having been an "Army Brat", my family and I moved around fairly regularly. The only two places where we stayed longer than three years was Fort Ord, California (seven years) and Fort Hood, Texas (where dad eventually retired). Other than that it was a constant move and as we searched for the perfect place to live with our ever expanding family (due to family issues my cousins and my grandmother eventually moved in with us) within those three years we would sometimes change housing as well, necessitating finding a whole new group of friends. All of this happened well before the advent of the internet so when the novelty of writing and receiving letters wore off, the friendships tended to fizzle out.
Let me say here that while I have learned to be gregarious, it's not really my natural proclivity. I don't really party all that much and I'm not great in going up and making lots of new friends. It's not my natural inclination but rather something I've had to learn to do over the years. I would be very happy sitting down by myself and reading a book, or working on my bike, practicing the guitar, or doing some other solitary activity. As much as I liked riding with the Huntington Bicycle Club for a few seasons, I much prefer riding alone where I don't have to be beholden to the schedule and whims of another. But I digress, back to the point of moving and friends.
I've always been on the small side. When I graduated high school I was 4' 11" tall and weighed about 125 pounds, mostly muscle from trying to be a "jock". I was small for my age and also smarter than most of the people around me, as evidenced from the fact that I was skipped a grade (first to third), so not only was I smaller than all of my classmates, I was smarter than them which caused me to get bullied - a lot. When we lived on Fort Hood I was often chased home by groups of kids. When my mom and dad split up it got even worse. Dad wasn't home as much (due to his schedule in the military and his working a second job to pay the bills) and the kids knew I had no one at home, so they would try to get to my house before me and wait for me so they could beat me up. The problem for them was I had about seven different routes home so they never knew which one I would take as I kept switching them up.
After my father remarried it got even worse. You see, it was the early 70's and there was a lot of hatred against the Vietnamese people and Asians in general, which was odd since California has had a very large Asian population since the Gold Rush and the building of the Transcontinental Railroad. Anyway, some people (including my next door neighbor and best friend) took exception to the fact that my father had married a Korean woman and bullied me even more. They took to calling her my "housekeeper" and other demeaning terms. I don't know if my parents knew about this but before long we moved a small distance up the coast to the town of Marina, California. My home in Fort Ord was the only one I'd ever known and now it was time to make all new friends, something I'd never had to do before. So at the age of eight I had to figure out had to make friends.
I had once heard someone say that if I ever needed a friend, I should find a firefighter. Perhaps it was from one of those "meet your friend the firefighter" days at school, I'm really not sure. But once we moved into the apartment in Marina I found myself with no friends and no one to socialize with except for my books and the collection of the World Book of Knowledge (which I read ever volume cover to cover). So I went to the local fire house to find some friends. Seemed like a logical thing to do at the time. They were very nice and sort of made me their "mascot" and let me hang out there after school with them. Yet I still didn't manage to make a lot of friends because no kids my age lived in the apartment complex. Then one day they introduced me to a group of teens (I think they were fourteen or so) that some of the firefighters knew lived in the apartment complex.
At first it was very cool. I was hanging out with the big kids and I could hold my own in conversations with them (primarily because I was so smart). And they were into model rockets!!! A couple times a week they would take their model rockets to the football fields (there were three of them all together for the various practices) and shoot them off. It was so cool! They let me watch and then started talking to me and then told me that if I got one they would let me launch it from their launching pads. I talked my dad into getting me my own and the older kids gave me pointers about how to build it, paint it and what engines and other things I should get. It was so much fun and it really made me feel like I had something to do. And then it wasn't fun anymore.
To this day I can't tell you his name, I can't tell you where he lived, I can't tell you the apartment complex we lived on, hell I can't even remember the name of the elementary school where I attended fourth grade. What I do remember is the afternoon we were going to meet over at his apartment to repair our rockets. Although they had parachutes to help them "gently return to earth", a lot of the time the chutes malfunctioned and they just crashed down so some of them were a little worse for wear. Since it was a rainy day, were going to meet over at his apartment and rebuild, repair and repaint our rockets. When I got there he told me the other guys weren't going to show up so it was just the two of us. Me, being eight years old and naive (although precocious at the same time) I didn't think anything of it - we were going to fix our rockets!
It wasn't long before things got weird.
Firstly, he pulled out some porn magazines he had. Now, this being the early seventies they weren't nearly as explicit as they are today, probably just some Playboy magazines and I really don't even remember the month so looking it up wouldn't help. But then he started touching me. Not in a sexual nature but more like rough housing. None of the guys had ever done that with me before and not having had older siblings I really didn't know how to react. The next thing I knew he had tackled me, thrown me down on the ground in the hallway and rolled me over onto my back. He then proceeded to sit on top of me with his knees on my chest. I cried and asked him to let me up because it hurt. I know some other things were said at the time but all I can remember 47 years later is when he asked me, "have you ever had a guy's dick in your mouth?" When he said that I immediately closed my eyes tight and clamped my jaw shut and tried not to open my mouth even though it was hard to breath with him sitting on my chest. It was then that I heard him unzip his pants and I felt the flesh of his penis rubbing on my face. At that moment I really started bucking like crazy trying to get him off. He started laughing and moved just enough so that I could wriggle out. I didn't even look back but rushed out of his apartment as soon as I could. I left as fast as my feet would carry me and never bothered to go back to get my rocket. I just told my father that I lost it one day, that when it went up it drifted into a tree and I couldn't get it down.
I saw him and the other guys around the apartments but always at a distance, I never tried to get close to them and if I saw them coming I would go another way. It wasn't long after this happened that my father received orders to report to Fort Gordon, Georgia so we moved away. I never told my father this happened to me because I was afraid he would be mad that I left my rocket since I had told him that I lost it. And to this day, I've never told anyone else, not even my wife about this. I guess I just did.
What has had me thinking about this so much lately is that a former student from my high school has been trying to deal with her own sexual abuse as a child. I won't reveal her name here because that's not my place. However, in confronting what happened to here she has essentially lost her family because they don't want to acknowledge that it might have happened. They have essentially shut this young lady down and left her on her own for trying to open up and confront the demons in her past. She is a huge advocate of The Mama Bear Effect, which is a group dedicated to (among other things) trying to help those youngsters who have been sexually abused deal with the trauma and scars of that abuse. I wish I would have had something or someone like that to turn to when it happened to me.
I've lived my life the best I could and I've tried to do what is right. I've not always succeeded and I've done things in my life of which I am deeply ashamed. But I've also gotten my ass kicked standing up for teenage girls when I was in middle school in Georgia - standing up for them because their redneck boy friends saw nothing wrong with smacking them around because that's the way you treat(ed) women back then. I've tried to live a good life, and sometimes I've succeeded. I've tried to make up for my transgressions, and sometimes I've succeeded, sometimes I've failed. But I've never intentionally hurt someone.
And yet all of this talk that has been going on since the Brett Kavanaugh allegations have come to light have opened up all of this from my own past. And the way Trump's Republican base are willing to whitewash this atrocious act makes me wonder when we lost America's soul. To see women standing up and saying they think it's okay, that sometimes girls have it coming because of the way they dress or the provocative way they behave, or even because the girls were drunk is beyond reprehensible. To hear college professors, even in jest, have said that if you didn't assault a girl when you were a teenage boy then you're not a man just defies all belief. To see the president of this country lower himself to the point of heckling and mocking this woman in front of a crowd of his brainless, soulless acolytes who then proceed to laugh at her makes me truly sick to the depths of my own soul. When did we become such a cruel, heartless, godless country?
And their main argument? The main proof they have that Kavanaugh couldn't have done what they said? He and his friend say they have no recollection of doing it and she herself can't remember the small details. I'm pretty sure the young man who tried to shove his penis in my mouth doesn't remember it. And I can't remember the kind of details our pristine Senate would want me to remember if I sat in front of their Grand Inquisitor. And yet I KNOW it happened to me. But since I don't have proof, even if it WAS Brett Kavanaugh who abused me, it wouldn't matter, no one would care.
And apparently America doesn't care. Not enough to give this woman a REAL investigation, not enough to find out more of what this man is really all about. Senators like Jeff Flake and others who know Trump is wrong on this (and so many, many other issues) just bend over and do his bidding while inside their own souls are rotting. Someday, when this judge shows the true misogynistic being he is and begins dismantling all the rights and protections women have, just as his lord and master desires him to do, they will understand too late what they have done. And yet, probably still won't care enough to try to redress their wrongs.
So this president and this court will never represent me and if there is some way I can fight them, I will. I'm pissed off and I realize that posting on Facebook doesn't do anything because all that happens is people hijack your posts and then spout their Grape Trumpaide induced psychotic babble. America is not being made great again, it is becoming a nation where people have no empathy and no care for their fellow human beings. All because we elected a man who thinks of nothing but himself and his own ego.
If any of my acquaintances read this (and trust me, this is only part of the things that have happened to me in my life) and still don't get me and why I can't live quietly in this dystopian society that is Trumpworld, then I guess you don't really know me at all. Do us both a favor and unfriend me on Facebook so you no longer have to read how I really feel, because I'm done being silent. The truth is, I'm not always sure what I am and who I may some day become, but I know who I don't want to be - just like you!
I could be mean I could be angry You know I could be just like you
I could be fake I could be stupid You know I could be just like you
You thought you were standing beside me You were only in my way You're wrong if you think that I'll be just like you You thought you were there to guide me You were only in my way You're wrong if you think that I'll be Just like you
I could be cold I could be ruthless You know I could be just like you
I could be weak I could be senseless You know I could be just like you
You thought you were standing beside me You were only in my way You're wrong if you think that I'll be just like you You thought you were there to guide me You were…
Well friends, stay well and I'll see you on the road.
Wow, it's hard to believe it has been almost two years exactly since I last posted something on this blog. A lot has happened in those two years, both in our nation and in my personal life. In the coming weeks (God willing) I will try to touch on a few of those things and share my ponderings. For now, I'm just glad I can finally start getting into the habit of commuting by bike to school again as my entire schedule was completely thrown off kilter last year. Speaking of Offkilter, it's long been one of my favorite bands and every time I think of the phrase off kilter I can't help but think of them;
Nothing like a little heavy metal bagpipe to start your Monday morning. Anyways, the big thing that really threw my schedule for a loop last year and kept me from riding was the class I was taking out in Yaphank at the Suffolk County EMS offices. Twice a week (Mondays and Wednesdays) from 7 - 10 pm I was there as a member of the very last Emergency Medical Technician - Critical Care certification course to be offered in Suffolk. Since I usually have rehearsal until five o'clock and it takes nearly two hours in rush hour traffic to get there riding on Mondays and Wednesdays was not possible. And then, by the time I got home, wound myself down and got to bed it would often be 1 am and I would wake up too tired to ride on Tuesdays and Thursdays. That left Fridays, if I was lucky and didn't have something else I had to do on the way in or way home. Yes, I know - nothing but excuses - but I fell into the bad habit far too easily and allowed myself to just stagnate for the year. And there was that thing with my knee the first half of the year as well. I eventually had to have it drained but once I was able to start riding a bit in the spring it started feeling better. But, I still allowed the excuses to pile up. You know, "just a little more sleep......just five more minutes...." and before I knew it, it was time to drive if I were going to make it on time.
And there was that little issue of taking on a second job last year to help pay for Sarah's room and board at Carnegie Mellon University. She was accepted to her dream school for costume design and the very last thing I wanted was for her to not be able to attend because of the money. So, last summer before we went on our family vacation to Alaska (yes, I'll DEFINITELY be talking more about that in another post) I began working as a District EMT for the Commack Volunteer Ambulance Corps. I took the job as a way to possibly get some more EMT experience for the class I was taking and as I way to make a little extra money to help the family finances. There really are some amazing EMS people there both paid and volunteer and I'm very proud of being a part of their organization. I've learned a lot from working with their paramedics but I have to admit, nothing will ever grab me like the people I work with in Northport, my second family at the NFD. If it weren't for their support and the amazing Paramedics who are as much medical practitioners as educators, I wouldn't have made it through the class. Anyways, I've been working two to three times a week there, mostly overnights from 11 pm to 7 am which gets me to SHS just in time to teach my first period class - which I often have to do in my EMT garb. I think after a little more than a year now people are getting used to it. It's like I have to do a little jig to keep all of these activities straight in my head. Or if not, perhaps a little Dubstep, set to bagpipes:
Sorry, my ponderings are all over the map today, primarily because of the fact my iPod (yes, I still use an iPod on my morning ride instead of my phone, cuz I'm a luddite) was dead and so all I had to keep me on tempo this morning was my own thoughts and Green Day's "Holiday" which was playing over and over in my head. Partially because William had phase two of his Eagle Scout project yesterday and the kids kept singing this:
Hey, it's catchy and has a good bpm for pedaling, so I kept singing it in my head (and sometimes out loud) on the ride in. Speaking of bpm, did you know that the standard for CPR is no longer 100 bpm but instead is 120 bpm? They used to teach us to sing "Stayin' Alive" in our heads to keep up that bpm. As a matter of fact, I once worked an arrest in the ER in which one of the duty nurses was singing that out loud in order to get the orderly to go faster in his compressions. I didn't have the heart (no pun intended) to correct her at the time. However, in my own head, when I took over for him, I had this going through my head:
Well, I think that's enough weirdness and convoluted mental meanderings for one day. I'm just glad to be back on the bike and I'll be trying to post every day when I commute on two wheels. I WILL try to get to all the other happenings in my life (Alaska, Sarah going off to College, working four jobs, a year in CC school, and the state of our Country) in future posts. For now, I'm just going to leave you with the original singing cowboy, Gene Autry:
Stay well my friends, and I'll see you on the road!
"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way – in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only."
And so begins one of the most famous of Charles Dickens' novels, A Tale of Two Cities. Although I would never consider myself to be a true Dickensian, I did go through a time period in my life when I read as much of his material as I could get my hands on. I think that was sometime between my Robert Louis Stevenson period and my J.R.R. Tolkien period.
I was thinking a lot about the opening lines of A Tale of Two Cities as I rode in this morning primarily because I was thinking how entirely different this morning's ride was in comparison to the one I took yesterday. All weekend I had been planning to wake up VERY early in the morning and head out on a long solo ride. Unfortunately, life sometimes gets in the way and it never turned out to be. But I had been promising the boys I would ride with them so yesterday I did. We noodled around the environs of East Northport and went to one of the elementary schools whereupon William decided that since we've been watching lots of cyclocross on television, he would try to bone up on his skills, such as dismounting and running up a flight of stairs (sorry, no pictures). It was until he tried the running remount and bruised his tenders that he decided perhaps we should wait a bit on the competing in cyclocross. However, we are looking to go see some, as soon as they start up on Long Island. If you don't know what is this "cyclocross" thing, here are some highlights of the one William and I watched just before we headed out:
After our little competitive turn we decided to finish off the afternoon by being "manly men" and hanging out at the East Northport 7-11 eating nachos and frozen burritos! It made us feel a bit like this:
Because nothing is as macho as Home Improvement! Total stats for our day of manliness? A mere 12.15 miles at 11.06 mph. And then came my ride today which caused me to think of how very different two rides could be. Sort of like the "Push Me/Pull Yous" from Dr. Doolittle. For those of you who never read them (or are too old to remember reading them) or saw the original movie, Dr. Doolittle is the title character of series of children's books. And the "Push Me/Pull You" was his two-headed llama:
But of course, they can't hold a candle to the famous spitting llamas of Peru:
What made today so completely different? Well, perhaps because without any tail wind at all I managed to do 12.07 miles at an average speed of 17.82 mph. It was great! I felt strong! I was fairly flying, especially considering my bike was loaded down and weighed well over 30 pounds! But I was flying and I was happy. But not as happy as I am when I'm riding with my two little guys, grunting, eating frozen burritos and enjoying the freedom that only two wheels can give us!
Oh, and in regard to the spitting, a little word of advice - if you're ever on a ride with William, don't ride two close behind him (aka, drafting) - you will think you're following a llama!
And today's totals:
FFR - 1 Squirrel, 1 Sparro
RRL - Two huge bags of rolled up carpet! Seriously?
Okay, I'm just going to officially put it out there right now......I HATE WIND!!!! Don't get me wrong, I think it's perfect for flying kites, especially if you're a big Mary Poppins fan:
For those of you who formally followed my Connor's Army blog, you know I can take the heat. On the particular day I wrote about on our cross country event I rode 109 miles on a day that eventually topped out at 126 degrees.
You also know that I even ride in the cold. Usually my drop off point is 15 degrees. Yes, I know some of my Minnesota brethren and sistren might just call me a total wimp but I only have enough layering (right now) to handle 15 degrees comfortably.
But what I really hate to ride in is the wind. Now conventional wisdom would tell us that in the summers the wind generally tends to blow from West to East. That's part of the reason we planned for the Connor's Army Ride Across America to leave from San Diego and end at Sunrise Day Camp. That and it really made more sense to end it where it began. And truthfully that was most often the case except for that one day in Kansas where the wind seemed to shift every three miles or so and I just wanted nothing more than to throw down my bike, get in the van and give it all up. But, I made it through and although I do ride on windy days, I pretty much hate it.
Until the ride this morning!!!!! The weather report said wind gusts up to 30 mph with possible rain. "Great," I thought, "this is just going to suck so hard!" But as it came time to leave and it wasn't raining I counted myself lucky. I might actually get to school completely dry today (of course as I sit here writing this, it is POURING outside!!!!!) but I would have to face the wind! And then the realization kicked in ---- the wind was blowing from the east!!!! I was going to have a tailwind of 20 mph with 30 mph gusts! YEEEEEESSSSSSSSS!!!!!! So I headed out on the road.......and then the drizzles began. Dammit!
And thus became this week's Freewheeling Friday epic saga! I knew I wasn't going to be able to take the long road because I might get soaked. Now don't get me wrong, I had all my rain gear packed in my trunk bag ready to go. I just didn't want to stop on the side of the road and put it on. Once I start I HATE stopping. So the plan was to ride really fast and stay ahead of the rain. Hey, if the wind is coming from the East that means the rain is too so if I ride fast enough I might be able to stay ahead of it, right? And so began what I am now going to refer to as my "Gone With the Wind Ride". Simply put, I had nature's turbo booster installed on my bike this morning.
Now for those of you classic movie buffs you'll recognize it as the FOURTH longest Hollywood film ever made (beaten out by Kenneth Branaugh's Hamlet, Elizabeth Taylor in Cleopatra, and that great hit from 2014 Nymphomaniac.) It was groundbreaking for it's time and garnered, I believe, 10 Oscars. It brought nothing but accolades for it's stars although it somewhat contributed to the eventual breakup of Vivien Leigh and her husband Laurence Olivier, arguably the BEST Shakespearean actor of the 20th century. However, as ground breaking as it was, I still enjoy Carol Burnett's version better:
But I digress. With said tail wind and with me time trialing for my skin (trying to keep it dry), I was pedaling as fast as I could. I ended up looking down at my cycling computer at one point while cruising along Pulaski and realized I was going 30.6 mph!!!!!! My average speed at that moment was creeping up on 18.6 and I wasn't even halfway there! Although my original plan was to go as short a route as possible, I decided to do my normal route (at an extra 1 1/2 miles) because I was making great time. It wasn't quite as fast as this;
But I was still going pretty fast! As I hit the bottom of Stilwell I looked down at my computer and my average speed was 20.1!!!!! And the drizzle was catching up again, time to crank it up Stilwell!!!!
As I finally pulled up to my entrance at good old SHS I looked down at the computer - 19.2! I lost almost one mph but it was faster than I've ever gone before. And it was all on Pearl, my frankenbike, 30 pound steel framed bike with the wide tires and fenders! My total time? 39.04 - I had broken the 40 minute mark!!!! It might not happen again anytime soon, but for now? I'm GONE WITH THE WIND!!!!!!!
Of course, the weather forecast for my ride home today?
Wish me luck! If I'm lucky I won't float away or go backwards like these guys;
And just to finish this Friday post off with some music to tantalize your ears, with any luck I won't be "Blown Away" (cover by Jess Moskaluke):
So please, Weather Gods, hear my plea and don't "Blow Me Away":
That's all folks for this Freewheeling Friday. I'm finally caught up and I'm heading out the door to go home. The weather forecast is: Cloudy with showers. Thunder possible. Low 59F. Winds NE at 15 to 25 mph. Chance of rain 60%. Here goes nothing. Oh, and something else to look forward to on Fridays now, watching my progress as I try to lose these last ten pounds - down to 171 now!
