Life in a small nutshell

I sometimes wonder what happened to our life. When you bring a child into this world, there is a cruel instant, which has no prejudice against you or favor towards you. It “Just is” and at that acute frozen moment in time your life is forever different. There’s no room for trepidation in your life choices at that moment. You have to have a purpose. No more compromising. No more capricious hedonistic behavior. You have responsibilities.

On any Saturday night a few years ago, my wife and I could be caught at the Bennigans on Ann Arbor Road in Plymouth sucking down tall frothy cool ones and over indulging in one or more of their over caloric appetizers. We would be in the same corner booth right near the bar joined by her sister, sister’s husband and group of loyal friends that go all the way back to high school. Usually we would close the place down and then, on a few occasions, go bowling. Episodes like that would cause me to call in “Sick” to work at 4 in the morning more times than I should have.

On those hangover mornings we would usually make a B-Line for one of the nearest Coney Island’s. Nothing is better than starting your day with a hot cup of coffee served in a smooth beige restaurant mug and a giant breakfast accompanied with the best tasting stack of pancakes that no matter what, you can’t replicate at home.

Motorcycling had become a major influence in my life years back and its influence occupied almost every thought it seemed. I loved my BMW adventure bike so much my wife went out and bought a scaled down model so we could go riding together. Back in 2004 we took a two lane trip through the picturesque Roosevelt Highway 6 out to upstate New York to visit an old Army buddy of mine. Whatever we wanted to do and whenever we wanted to do it were never an issue.

March 16 2006 was a very long day. The night before, I had taken my wife to the labor and delivery ward of St. Mary’s hospital in Livonia. She was having contractions and was at the end of her forty weeks. That afternoon, after 10 hours of arduous labor, she gave birth to a healthy baby boy. To say I was overjoyed at that moment would be a tremendous understatement. There was such a great feeling of being high that only someone who has had a similar experience or a drug addict in the intense comfort of their addiction would fathom.

It has been two years since that magical day and we have adapted into a new routine of life. My wife and I see a lot less of each other but we are fortunate enough to share our evenings together after a sometimes grueling day at work. On the days I work my wife stays at home and the days she works it’s my turn to watch our little boy. This is how we save billions of dollars a year by keeping him out of daycare.

Long gone are the weekends where we would wake up only when we cared to and to even think about going out to eat means bringing the baby which is a great idea if you want to order food and then have to leave before it arrives because the little one sees fit to start a temper tantrum in a crowded restaurant. Just one time is all it takes to give a parent P.T.S.D., which I’m told will go away when your child is around four years of age.

Going on vacation so far has consisted of little mental journeys of where we have been and where we may go in a couple of years without committing to any strict plans. There will be no more two wheeled holidays for a long time. Between work and watching the boy on a daily basis there is no longer adequate time to ride my beloved BMW that would provide any visceral satisfaction. Having ridden around the country and up to Alaska, keeping the bike around for four mile commutes to work just doesn’t cut the mustard.

We like to hang on to dreams or maybe illusions of a life we think we can still lead but it never, in the true sense of the word, succeeds. The priority of being a parent eventually supersedes any self involvement and as hard as it would be for anyone to give up a dream, I sold my motorcycle this fall and my wife’s will be gone this spring. Life takes new directions and that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

The whole experience of a family’s evolution and needed sacrifices are more powerful than our selfish material wants or instant gratifications and in the end, if you look close enough with a keen eye or a patient heart, its rewards will give you more than you could ever have imagined.

A Very Brief Essay About Music in My Life

As much as we may not realize it, music always plays a role in our lives. It has the power to ignite crowds of people in less than a second. It is synonymous with passion and love and has helped fuel revolutions. We tie memories to it and use it as a tool to spark creativity. Music is not of mans creation, the morning song bird will show you this. Music is ubiquitous. This is a divine gift.

In my life, music has had a close supporting role. Never completely out of reach but more like a passenger in the car of my mind that may not be right beside me but is always there, in the corner of my eye.

My love affair with music started at a very young age. One summer morning in 1978 when I was six years old, I woke up a little earlier than my father’s old Navy buddy and his wife who were visiting and sleeping in the room next to mine. I promptly went over to my white plastic general electric record player and presented their sleeping souls with Rod Stewarts “Do You Think I’m Sexy” at near maximum volume. With near toy like speakers I’m sure it didn’t sound too good but it was my favorite song at the time and I thought if I loved it so much then they would too. My little white plastic record player with matching speakers gave me the first taste of musical freedom. The freedom to jam out to the likes of Steely Dan, Eddie Rabbit or Bruce Springsteen, in the comfort of my own room at any time I wanted.

In the early 80’s we had taken a family summer trip out to colonial America in our two tone blue Ford Econoline van. I had taken my favorite audio tape and was privileged enough to listen to it on my dad’s new state of the art dual adjustable bass and treble silver boom box. He had received it as an anniversary gift from Ford Motor, so it was treated with very careful hands. The tape was a collection of songs I had made from fastidiously listening to Casey Kasem’s Top Forty Countdown every week and used the new boom box to record it. I had been happily grooving away, somewhere in West Virginia, when my mother turned around from the passenger seat, looked back and said “Do you know what a centerfold is?” I now realize it must have been a rhetorical question because I was only ten and all I knew is that the J. Geils Band had some really good songs.

I spent a lot of dedicated time in the 80’s religiously listening to Americas Top 40 and kept track of all the movements on the billboard. I would wait anxiously, with a properly cued blank tape in the tape deck. Finger poised over the record button like a nervous gunslinger palming the butt end of his pistol as he waits for his seasoned opponent to draw on him. I had to catch my favorite songs at that right instant! That nanosecond of silence between the announcer’s voice and the opening riff is where I had to be. I was obsessive to the point of therapy about this, but this was the 80’s in blue collar Ypsilanti and no one I knew had even heard of such a thing.

I attribute my love of music to my parents, who had a small stack of records they kept in the living room next to the full sized mahogany encased record player. Those Beatles, Bee Gees and Bob Segar albums helped form my musical taste buds in my early life evenings while we relaxed together with a fresh bowl of hot air popped pop corn in the living room. Even to this day there will be times when I hearken back to the songs of my youth and strangely feel the animosity I have long since forgotten but have somehow harbored away only to be brought back by this wonder of music.

Long two lane dirt roads surrounded by whisper thin white pines on the way up north is where the haunting lyrics of “The Edmund Fitzgerald” takes me. With the smooth sounds of Barry Manilow, I will be whisked away to the sand bars of Elk Lake where my sister and I used to swim on an occasional summer afternoon. Throughout my life I have always been empowered with music. I have used it to spark my creativity. I have used it to fuel my revolutions. I have used it for passion. I use it to enhance the love affair with my wife. It is everywhere, you see. It is even present in the cries of a new born child.

New word. Invented by ME.

The word is "Sazz". It is a combination of Sexy and Jazz.
"Sazz it up baby!"
"Thats sooo Sazzy"

My personal family lawyer Carlos Francisco Bermudez is drawing up the copyright paper work as we speak.