On the subject of "Preparing for the Back Nine"

"I'm not over the hill. I'm just on the back nine."
- A pillow that belonged to my Dad that I brought home with me from his house.

In just 6 days, I will no longer be 45 and lost in cyberspace. Yes, the calendar page turns and with it, the sense of being young.

I know it is just a different day, and the world does not change. The perspective, however is beginning to change. On my radio is still the music of a 20 or 30 year old. My sense of humor is more of a teenager than a middle-ager. Life's dreams, goals, and challenges - now, that is a different story.

Last week, I was privileged to be given access to Seattle Golf Club to tape a series of interviews with some golfers of the past from a local university's program. In this role, I was able to talk to people with a wide range of memories from those who won a championship two years before I was born to those who just recently graduated. While all the stories were wonderful, I related more to the stories of the older generation than the younger, and that both surprised and saddened me.

Listening to the stories of the older golfers was like listening to my Dad. The camaraderie, the memories, the love they had for each other, all became very apparent. It was the kind of story I had not heard from a member of that generation since my Dad passed away three years ago.

Walking through the locker room at that club brought another fact into focus. The design of that room is eerily similar to that of the club that my Dad belonged to in Bethesda, Maryland. At "BT", I felt as though I was part of an incredible privileged group of people who had made a difference. At the Seattle Golf Club, I sadly felt like a visitor who had not achieved what I believed I could where I could be amongst the members.

Talking to the members of the championship teams, many doctors or successful business men or golf pros, I was transported back to a time when time on the course was time spent reconnecting with my Dad. A bad day on the course was better than most good days in the office.

The last time I shared a golf course with my dad was one of the greatest experiences of my life. We played in a father/son tournament, and finished just two strokes out of the awards. We came so close, but it didn't seem to matter. The next time I would see him, he would be recovering from heart surgery, unable to even get to a golf course let alone play.

The last time I saw him, we talked old golf stories, and looked at some pictures. We knew that no matter what would happen, we always had that weekend at BT.

Now, I get ready to make the turn and head to the back nine. I haven't set foot on a golf course to play since he died. It seems too painful as if I hit a good shot, that would always be the one I would want to call Dad about.

The trip to Seattle Golf Club brought with it other thoughts. Would I ever live up to the life where I felt I could belong? My life has taken such strange turns lately. My old self would be longing for the "club life" or the "good life" as my Dad always called it.

My current friends, the ones who make me happiest, are not club types, but rather ones that seem more "touchable" and more "reachable."

I don't want to give up the dream of success that allows me perks and privilege, but I never want to lose touch with the friends who have shaped my life.

The conflict seems like a 20 foot putt to force a playoff in a tournament. Making it keeps the dream alive. Missing it doesn't mean the end, but it makes you wonder what if.

Right now, the question of "what if?" seems to be taking the shape of "what could be?" Exciting and scary all at the same time.

What lies on the back nine? Do I play an iron and play it safe or go for it with the "Loco" driver that was my final golf present from my dad? I step up to the tee soon. And frankly, it's a daunting task.

Yours truly,
Johnny Blogger

On the subject of a Scratched LP

Sometimes life is like a broken record. Just when you're singing along with your favorite tune, the song gets stuck, and you find yourself having to correct the problem before continuing your merry song.

Work is like that for me these days. Find a typo and feel the wrath of a 10 minute process to fix one mistake.

"For the nights... for the nights... for the nights."

Larry King, who one reader compares me to, has a great story from when he was a DJ in Miami. He thought he could duck out and take a break by putting on an entire side of a Sinatra record. He figured he'd get 20 minutes to run to the local store. When he returned, the phone was ringing. The voice on the other side said "For the nights" over and over. When Larry turned back on the speakers in the studio, he realized it was skipping on the first song on the album."

Album... what's that some of the younger set say? Album.. you know? Record? LP?

Pretty soon our kids will be saying CD to their kids and they will say "See what?"

I have been the victim of dated references this week. My new motion design wizard was tapping away at the keyboard when I told him that the short cut for this one motion was the "carrier return."

"Carrier Return?" he exclaimed. "What's that?"

"I meant the enter button next to the keyboard rather than the number pad."

I asked him if he knew what a typewriter was. He said yes, but my archaic reference was lost on him.

He has a way of making me feel old... like the time I said how old I was and he said "oh, same as my Mom."

Scratch.... there goes another record skipping.

Good night, album lovers everywhere.

Yours truly,
Johnny Blogger

On the subject of Soup

"No Soup for You!"

This entry is a compendium of thoughts on a rainy day in Seattle. Call it Blog Soup.

Why is it that my super fast eight core Mac working more like a Commodore 64?

Was it as much fun to play Intellivision back then as it is to play Wii now?

Does everyone start their day optimistic they will get everything done only to discover it was a lot tougher than they thought it was going to be?

When is too much too much?

Go see Little Miss Notetaker's kitchen! It's awesome... and then go rate it on HGTV.com. 

The word is on your lips. Say the word! FASCINATION!

Do people just not call to tell you they are not coming anymore, or do they just assume you will work your schedule around theirs?

Does everyone have to be paid for everything, or do you ever do something because it is the right thing to do?

Improv Karaoke tonight. I have to get ready for it. I don't know why it's tougher than usual. Maybe the combination of the bad karaoke experience from last week, and the upper back injury from yesterday.

Just how awesome is Michael Phelps? Just how cute is Shawn Johnson? Just how amazing is Jonathan Horton (still no relation)?

Was the opening ceremony of the Olympics still the most incredible show ever put on now that it has been discovered that the director of the show basically abused the cast, and said the only place it could have been done better is North Korea?

What would I look like as a bobble head?

The render of the video is still not done.

When it is correct to be politically incorrect?

Who won the primary for Governor here in Washington and do I care? I care that the ads are over for at least a couple of weeks (phew!)

Is the world ready for Arnold-oke (singing an entire Karaoke song as Arnold). Believe me now!

The batteries on my desk are recharged now. Hopefully I will be soon.

Hey Dave, can I plug my show? It's Sunday night in Seattle at 7 PM at the Historic University Theater. No, I don't have a clip.

Is it Theater or Theatre. This coming from a guy who spells color colour.

Render is still not done. However, I am.

Good night, Grace Kelly... all your looks were too sad. So I'll try a little Freddie. I've gone identity MAD!

Yours truly,

Johnny Blogger

On the subject of being Nine - Part 1

After spending four days in the company of my nine year old son on a sports adventure weekend in California, I have found the answer I have been seeking for many a year. I no longer need to capture the party days of college. Gone are the days where I seek to be a teenager again. Goodbye to the present day with its responsibilities and worries.

I want to be nine again.

The age seems to be magical and full of wonder. Life is not about the next appointment or the next dollar to be made. It is about what has just happened and what will happen next.

Our journey began on Friday when we stepped on the plane. He had flown before, but not at a time where he could remember the occaision. At security, it was interesting how the metal detector worked. Once on the plane, no beach blanket novel was needed to entertain, just the pictogram card explaining the safety procedures. No DVD player. No newspaper. Think nothing of the two magazines I just bought him to keep him occupied. No, just the safety card.

Once we landed, it was off to get the rent-a-car. We were on the bus and he wanted to pick up a map. “Where are we” he asked. “Hey, can we get a Hummer” he asked. In LA, I said no… but the lady at Hertz gave us a sporty G6. Cool car, Dad.

Californians will tell you that life can begin and end with an In and Out Burger. For us, LA life began with one. After a long wait, the food finally arrived. “This is the best burger I have ever had in my whole life!”

To the hotel, we went, through the labyrinth of roads called the California freeway system. In the dark, we moved, for a while. At 10 PM, on a Friday night, traffic halted on the 110.

“Dad, is it always like this?” I recalled that it usually was and remembered when I got stuck in it trying to catch a plane or get to a TV shoot. But for him, the novelty of traffic at 10 PM was just that… a novelty.

At the hotel, the glass towers beamed skyward. We were met by the valets to take our car. “Is everyone this nice” he wondered. Then we saw movie posters lining the walls of the entrance, as the hotel had played a starring role in many movies. We passed by one poster in particular that grabbed his attention. Dad, ARNOLD!

Checking in was not a slam dunk. We entered the room using the cool key. He wanted to do it so I let him go first. As we went in, he noticed something was awry. “Dad, is there supposed to be a towel on the floor?” I said it probably fell off the bar. “Dad, why do the beds look slept in?” Okay… now this was weird.

We called down and they changed our room to one in the Circle Tower. That meant an unexpected surprise. We stepped onto the glass elevator, and there it was. “This elevator was used in the filming of ‘True Lies” starring Arnold Schwarzenegger and Jamie Lee Curtis.” He was in movie heaven.

The news was on as we prepared to go to bed. We heard it was “all time record heat for Los Angeles.”  Oh,  joys for me. “Dad, what is the hottest I have ever been?” He was about to find out.

Warn out from the trip, he could not get to sleep. Too excited. What were we going to do the next day? When does the pool open? What time does the soccer game start? Are they going to give our car back to us, or will they keep it? And at 2 in the morning, I heard him.

“Dad, you’re snoring too loud. Could you keep it down? I am trying to sleep!”

... to be continued.