On the subject of "The Secret"

"Jon needs a song in his heart, an improv line on his tongue, a hat on his head, and a smileon his face... yes... it's one of THOSE days."
- my current Facebook status.

Just out of the shower. I know... nice visual. The shower seems to be where I can find clarity in life, and that is not a brand of shampoo. Although wouldn't it be nice if it was?

"Mind doing tricks on you? Is your life a mess? Need to find inner peace? Then try Clarity. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. You have Clarity... now enjoy your day."

Nope, not that simple. It's hard in these times to find reasons for a lot of things, but clarity has allowed me to figure out why I am such a grouch these days.

My friends, I shall now divulge the secret!

Remember "The Secret," that book that Oprah raved about for weeks and was the one book that was going to change everyone's lives? Didn't read it.

I know what the Secret is... connections.
Happiness is a hello away.
Happiness is feeling loved.
Happiness is loving in return.
Happiness is someone saying I heart you.
Happiness is sharing a moment.
Happiness is laughing with someone, not by yourself.
Happiness is getting a loving comment, and knowing it was written just for you.
Happiness is hearing "thank you."
Happiness is hearing "I'm sorry."
Happiness is not hearing "have a nice day" but feeling that someone who says it really means it.
Happiness is turning over in bed and having a loving person by your side who wants to snuggle.
Happiness is having "the moment" and having someone acknowledge you for it.
Happiness is someone catching a phrase from your past and realizing how fun it was to remember the moment associated with it.
Happiness is when you feel understood.
Happiness is when someone takes the time to understand you in the first place.
Happiness is wanting to share your secret with everyone else.
Happiness is them sharing their secrets with you.
Happiness is wanting to be around people you love.
Happiness is the people you love wanting to be near you.

One of my improv friends said to me the other day that improv was the best heroin ever. It's something that you get hooked on and it never lets you go. I had to agree with her, but thought that it's not the improv I am hooked on, it's sharing the joy of the moments with the people around me. Whether they are in the audience or the closer connection of sharing the stage with me, it's about the connection between your heart and theirs. That is what I am hooked on and can't get enough of.

The bottom line is this. I have been a grouch this past week, since a wonderful Sunday of improv. I was a grouch last week, after an incredible Sunday of improv. It was like coming off one of those highs that you don't want to come off of, yet you know it will be a crash. I know that crash.

When you are hooked on happiness, you need it even more. When my wife gives me a hug, when my kids do something to make me proud, when the dogs can be quiet for just a moment, that is real life happiness. It's not something that can be created, it is something that just has to be allowed to happen.

So I am going to try to find the happiness in the little things. Last night when I joked in my Facebook status that I was "waiting for a star to fall," a friend from the past reminded me of another star song that could go a long way towards allowing me to achieve what I have been blogging about today.

""Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket, save it for a rainy day..."

It's not raining... it's 88 and sunny... but it's still good advice. Because even if it's not raining, you need those stars to get you through the days that feel like it's raining.

So what are some of your secrets? Do tell.

Yours trulym
Johnny Blogger

On the subject of Same Person, Different Life

'Cause we belong together now, yeah
Forever united here somehow, yeah
You got a piece of me
And honestly,
My life (my life) would suck (would suck) without you
- Kelly Clarkson

The new song from Kelly Clarkson really has hit a cord.

It has been a whirlwind journey since returning from South Carolina and the rediscovery of my life. Many would say, Johnny, you are just being overdramatic, but alas, no. There is a new spirit in life right now. I find myself more in love with my wonderful wife than ever. I have a new bond with my kids as part of a bigger family, one with a heritage and story to tell - and continue to tell. I remain the same person, with a different life.

And in the midst of all this, suddenly, people who meant a lot in my life in older days seem to be finding their ways, in even a small way, back into my life. It might be something as simple as a Facebook message, or just a quick note to say hello.

Some of us would rather forget the past - I embrace it. There are a lot of choices I made that I might have changed, a right turn when I should have gone left... giving up on something I should have maybe held onto. And in the past couple of weeks, like rediscovering the past, I have seen the new version of people I knew dozens of years ago and realize that life goes on for all of us.

Getting surreal for a moment, do you ever feel like you are the only person conscious and the rest of the world is a play made just for you? Silly, isn't it? Think about it, people live their lives all around you, but you only have your own perspective.

Now back to the notes. I have caught up with someone I really liked, but she didn't feel the same about me back then. Kind of a case of older person's puppy love. She had been hurt in the relationship she had previous to meeting me, and did not feel that she could trust another man at that time. She is now married with kids and a great career. While her looks haven't changed, her life has become hundreds of times better... and that makes it all the more intriguing to me. Same person... different life.

I caught up with a high school friend who I always thought of as kind of a rival. She was always cool to me, but in the end, someone who I would think of fondly. She was on my bus, so we knew each other pretty well. Now, one of her kids goes to the same school we went to (which is now a merged version of an all boy's and an all girl's school.) Same person... different life.

Then there is my friend I met back when I worked for a cable network. We had not spoken since I had my nasty divorce from the cable channel. It was a huge legal mess, and all the higher ups at the net did not think very highly of me. My friend was a good friend of the head of the network, so I thought the relationship was poisoned.

A Facebook note and friend request made me realize that was not the case. He even started the note with "I don't know if you remember me." The fact is I always remembered what a nice guy he was and was sad that our friendship had not continued. It turns out that his life had taken an interesting set of turns. We hope to reconnect soon to play the game of golf we scheduled years ago, and catch up. So I prepare to rekindle the friendship with the Same Person, with now a different life.

No example of this is better than another of my new Facebook friends, who was a friend of mine when I was a teenager. I knew her under her real name and as a private school educated fine lady of the South. Now, I have recently seen her on Facebook with a totally new name, and living a life as a free spirit in Las Vegas... far away from the Charleston I met her in. Same person... different life.

I guess you could say that every day brings us all a different life, but to see such radical changes in the people I knew one way, and then to be reintroduced to their new life, it's an amazing journey.

So take the time to think about someone you really cared for that you may have lost touch with, one that you just want to say hello to or someone you genuinely miss. Don't be afraid to reach out and say hello. You may be amazed at the results.

Wishing you a happy different life every day of yours! My life would indeed... um... not be the same without you!

Yours truly,
Johnny Blogger

On the subject of Dreams and Memories of a Palace

"So leave the memories alone,
I don't want to see,
The way it is, as to how it used to be,
Leave the memories alone, don't change a thing,
And I'll hold you here in my memory"

After three years, my father's house sold yesterday, and with it, the dreams of everything he worked for.

That house was his pride and joy. On the waterfront, bigger than life, a place to truly call home.

I never got to live there for an extended period of time... only a vacation, a holiday or two, but it was my home as well. They had built a separate apartment above the garage that was originally designed to be my room... instead it turned pink and became the guest room. And that's OK.

On a ocean fed creek, "UpDaCreek" was a palace of its time, without being ostentatious. Driving up to it, it just had a feeling of welcomeness unlike any other. From the porch that swung all around the house to the understated landscaping to those hanging plants that twisted in the summer winds, the house seemed to say "come on in and sit a spell."

All on one level, my folk's place had the great room of all great rooms. 30 feet by 30 feet with one wall totally windows to see the creek outside and the ocean beyond. Outside the french doors was a screened in porch with a series of rocking chairs. The porch started on one end of the house and sprawled all the way to the other end.

It was this porch I will remember the most. On an autumn day in 1994, after a week of driving rains and floods, the most beautiful day appeared. Most people in the south that Saturday were probably watching College Football. I was standing in the midst of many of my friends, and family, on a porch turned wedding chapel. In front of my parent's room, where the hanging swing usually was, my love and I exchanged vows and promised ourselves to each other for the rest of time.

The rest of time now will not include that place we stood. I somehow knew that as each and every time I went to visit my parents, or my Dad after Mom had passed, the last thing I would do is go stand on the very spot and remember, and dream, and swear I would be back there again.

The last time I stood there was June, three years ago, when I left my Dad's house after laying him to rest in the creek behind the house, just where we had spread my Mother's ashes five years prior. They will forever be a part of that landscape, their dust a part of the earth they loved so much.

My Dad told me on his death bed that at least he could die knowing that the house could help pave the way towards making life better for all of us. He had no idea of what the economy would do to those dreams.

My wife and I are talking about going back to help empty the house, a task already underway thanks to the executors of the estate who want to have the closing as soon as possible. I have mixed feelings. Do I want to go back? Can I go back, or will the memories be too much?

One of my favorite tribute songs, best used for of all things Pro Wrestler Ric Flair, is "Leave the Memories Alone." It's kind of how I feel right now. The sadness is overwhelming.

But it is in this sadness that I reach out. There are friends of mine that hurt much more today. From the loves they thought they had that turned out to be lies. From the jobs they sweated on to only be told that sweat was in vain. From the kids they love that need to heal from tragic accidents. They need my steady mind, my unwavering hand, my hug to let them know someone is there for them.

So maybe the dreams of my Dad's house did not die yesterday. Instead they live in the spirit described above. Dreams are not defined in dollars, they are instead built on love... so they do live.

Thank you, Dad.

On the subject of Being Thankful

One year ago, I approached thanksgiving with the strangest feeling. My prevailing attitude was that it had been another year that I just wanted to forget, and that my thanks were towards the calendar for the year to be close to being over.

What a difference a year makes. As I am lying down on my bed, resting from the soreness that is a given to a 45 year old who has just played football, I realize that this year, I am actually thankful for where I am and what I have become.

For the first time in the fifteen years since moving to the northwest, I feel like I have found an atmosphere in which I can breathe.

The biggest difference has been friends, and the fact that I feel like I have found some good ones. Just a year ago, responsibility and obligation seemed to take 100 percent of my time. Now, through a journey of discovery and cyberspace, I have found new creative outlets and, with them, great relationships.

It began with an incredible group of people in Improv 201 class in the spring. I arrived as an experienced student who was not sure what to expect. I arrived hoping I would be accepted for the person I was, not the person I had thought myself to be. Through eight weeks of scenes, socializing and tater tots, not only did I find acceptance, I found a group of incredible people that felt like friends.... fifteen years in the making.

From those friends, I discovered the joys of blogging, that has allowed me to hopefully entertain you, make you think, and feel like you might not be alone when you think you are. I have to thank Little Miss Notetaker and Adjil for providing the inspiration for the genesis of the blog, and to all the readers for keeping me going.

I have discovered the social network of Facebook, which has been an incredible part of enjoying life and sharing with others. Status updates and red dots can make my day, as even if it is in the relative obscurity of cyberspace, it still gives me a connection to friends, past and present.

I have to thank Teacher Doug for introducing me to Karaoke, and to Amy Winehouse for sending me to Rehab over and over.

While new improv classes came and went, there was never a feeling quite like that 201 class. Don't get me wrong, there were flashes of brilliance in those new groups, and I enjoyed them immensely. That chemistry, the illusive chemistry, was hard to recapture. Maybe I was trying too hard, or maybe it was just simple science.

The 201 class rejoined for some reunion events like karaoke, and we would go to shows together, and they always were among the best times I had this year.

Then last Sunday, the core group of the 201 class, with the addition of a few members of the most recent 201 class banded together for the first rehearsal of a new improv group. From the opening moments, we felt chemistry, and the desire to see where it might take us. In a word, it was awesome... not for the brilliant scenes, but for that feeling of chemistry, without effort.

Friends... real friends... not work friends... not shared friends... real friends. It was something I had not experienced in years... and it opened the doors.

It allowed me to see the joy of friendship without obligation, without work. I could enjoy the company of people not because they needed me to do something, just because they enjoyed my company - and I theirs. That, to me, was an unbelieveably new feeling.

So to my improv friends, thanks for giving me a new lease on friendship life. To my new friends via the blog and Facebook, thanks for including me in your cyberlife. To the people who have become my friends from coaching to life at the unnamed university to life outside of sports, I thank you.

And last, and probably most importantly, thanks to those who are closest to me for your love, your support and your kindness through the trying times of the past three years, and hopefully the joy to come. Honey, you are the reason I am able to wake up every day and tackle life. I just hope I can inspire you as you have inspired me.

And now, a new adventure begins... one for which I can thank each of you for giving me the courage to undertake... and it should be amazing.

Happy Thanksgiving All,

Yours truly,
Johnny Blogger

On the subject of Alrighty Then

I am alright.

When I turned on the answering machine this morning at my office, I received the kindest message from an old friend. The voice sounded familiar, but it was one I hadn't heard in over two decades.

The voice was concerned about what they were reading online on Facebook and here on the blog. Status updates like:

Jon is so used to instant responses, he wonders why his mail box isn't full at 7:45AM from a message sent at 2AM. Needs a chill pill badly. Any distributors?

Jon - BOOM!

Jon - B! O! O! M!

Jon is in mile 13 of the marathon.

Jon is waiting for a star to fall.

The voice was worried about me, and that is very nice.

Interestingly enough, these same status updates led someone to want to be my Facebook friend... someone I have never met. Her note to me that came with the request was something to the effect of "I can identify with your life."

That simple fact made me happier. Someone other than myself, understands the travails of every day life that I am running through. Simply put, I am not alone.

Fact is, I use the blog and the Facebook updates as a form of therapy. Yes, you dear reader are my therapists now. Do I owe you a co-pay?

It has been an unbelievably stressful time in my professional and personal life as mid life crisis seems to be creeping in. Questions like who do I want to be? What do I want to be doing in 10 years? Do I want to take a vacation?

Happily, the questions are not do I want to stay in my relationship? Do I want to buy an expensive car? Do I want to change everything? Those are NOT, I repeat NOT the questions.

So to answer everyone who has been asking, I am okay. And to the voice, I will be calling soon so you can hear this voice as well, telling you it's okay. Thank you for being so concerned.

And to my regular readers, crazy time is about to end, and the comedy will resume. I have my first get together with my new improv group this weekend - so there will be plenty to scribe about. So with that, as the tape in the machine next to me reaches its end, I am sigh-ning off for now.

Yours truly,
Johnny Blogger

On the subject of Flashbacks

One of my favorite aspects of being lost in cyberspace is the ability to go back in time without the use of a Flux Capacitor.

Facebook is the ultimate wayback machine. Through its portal I have walked back into high school, college and the past with usually wonderful results.

May I share some experiences? Of course I can, it's my blog and you're reading (laughing to myself as the dog sitting with me doesn't get the joke.)

I have discussed finding an old college classmate whom I dated for a while and learned about her courageous life after college. We have exchanged some e-mails since and try to stay in touch. It's nice because we were more friends than dates, and I feel like I found an old friend again.

A couple of weeks ago, another friend from both college and high school reappeared after more than 25 years. We both had the same interests throughout school, but ended up on very different paths. She's a mom that works with some religious organizations. It's amazing how many friends who are so defined by their religion. I understand it all, but never have been defined by it... but that's another blog for another time. I think it will be the one I write just after my treatise on politics.

Back to the blog already in progress...

Just last week, I received a friend request from a person that I had never heard of. I knew not of the name but the picture looked somewhat familiar. When the attached message mentioned her maiden name, I was a giddy high schooler all over again. It was one of my friends from our sister school.

Oh, to catch you up, I went to an all boys school with a graduating class of only 52 people. I took some classes at our sister school including Drama and Psychology, and had many friends who went there.

Back to the story. So here was the note and the request which I happily confirmed. I went on to her page and saw that she had not changed much at all since school, and that her daughter was the image of her - much like my son is just like me. We have exchanged messages back and forth, catching up on the friendship.

Whenever you go back to the past, you have great memories, but you don't know how they will be taken in the present. In one of my notes back to this old friend, I admitted that I had a crush on her back in those days. I was glad she took it as a compliment, and mentioned what I knew all along... that our friendship was what endured - and that is indeed the most important part.

Not every reunion has a storybook continuance. There are some of my new Facebook/old friends that I don't hear from at all. I enjoy seeing their status updates and seeing what they are up to. I have reached out to many of them, but I never want to be considered "too Facebook happy," so I let it go.

So if in this Google world you happen to track me down, or find me on Facebook, please, by all means ring me up... I love flashbacks and love to share the present day with people whom I enjoyed so much in the past.

Good night, friends who I had a crush on and those that I didn't. It's great to hear from all of you!

Yours truly,
Johnny Blogger

On the subject of Moving On

Improv class ended tonight. A second session of the class called 201 has reached the final curtain, with a less than great final performance from me.















Thankfully, THE performance, our showcase on Sunday night was awesome. I felt very much at home on the stage, and for some reason, the animal instinct came out in me.

In the first scene with Lauren and "the Other John," I found myself playing a lead footed cat who had lost his Tabby. When I found her, she was stolen away. That is until Tabby fed the nefarious feline a poisoned dish, allowing me to turn the cad into French Kitty Litter.

"The Other John" is an extremely esoteric gentleman who is from France, and always seems intrigued by the differences in society here and there. He says he's giving the Northwest another year and may see what else is out there. I hope he finds a place he feels welcome, but he can always call on "the other Jon" to be a friend.

Lauren is heading to Fordham to begin classes, and hopes to be a star on the stage someday. She has amazing talents, and an ability to take on a character and own it. One of her scenes reminded me of Kristen Wiig, which as readers know, makes her aces in my book.

One person with whom I did not get to play a scene in the showcase, but became one of my favorite people in class was Matt. Mr. Schmidt is a stand up comic, who happens to work behind the scenes in movies. However, now, he has a great new opportunity, joining the staff of 30 Rock in New York. Matt and I share a propencity to speak too much in our scenes, but the difference is when Matt speaks, it comes out as some genius comedy - and I believe it will take him places. Right now, it's taking him to New York, and he will be missed.

If I had to pick someone who caught my eye from the opening moments of class, it would have been Rosie. She teaches theater to younger kids, and there was that young innocence in her performances on stage. Her voices were priceless, and her kindness was worth even more. She is off to Austin, Texas where she will working at a Tiny Tots School, while hopefully chasing some improv dreams with the growing scene in the very cool city. Her midwest accent, taken from her family, will be a constant memory of a really fun person.

Showcase's final scene - forward backward - made me into a horse, which, if I had listened more carefully, a centaur. It was a fun scene with the understated Brett stating his love to ride horses and asking me if I had a cough. When our teacher, Doug, called for the scene to go backwards... off I strode back to the offstage area where I toppled onto the chairs and staging back there, with a huge crash. Might have been the biggest laugh of the night for something that no one saw. Erika's ability to saddle me up created the best on stage laughs. Fun scene.

So tonight, we all said our goodbyes. While I have to say that this class did not have the family feeling that my last class had, and still holds to this day, there are many people that I will very much miss. And to those three who leave the Northwest to chase their dreams... here's hoping they all find theirs' to come true - whether it is on a stage, or just in living a wonderful life. Thanks for making mine just that much better for having known you for this short time.

Good night Matt, Lauren and Rosie! Bon Voyage!

Yours truly,
Johnny Blogger

On the subject of Different Directions

Discovering yourself is an interesting process. It is a process that never seems to cease. Resolution is never near.

When I started this blog a few months ago, I was trying to examine some of the issues in life as it regarded to what this thing called cyberspace had brought to it. 

The other day, I casually said over dinner that I was up to 191 Facebook friends. It was a remark that was just a passing thought. My better half saw it differently. She was wondering why I would have so many people I would associate with on line, and felt those "friends" were taking attention away from her. A couple of months ago, I might have agreed, but now - not so much.

Real life seems to be going in so many directions that time to spend with cyberfriends is actually the time that is at a premium. Blogging is another victim. One aims to write every day, but "regularly" begins to seem "enough."

When a new school year starts, my crazy time begins. There are so many preparations to be made for multiple projects that it never seems like I can ever catch up. Then, the first game arrives. The first show goes on the air. The first event is in the books, and it doesn't seem as bad.

So when there is any time for me to be me, I cherish every minute of it and want to make the most of it. I reserve the right to be happy whenever I can. So in the midst of all this craziness, I am fortunate that events involving my improv class have allowed me a great respite from the craziness of the day. While this class did not achieve the chemistry I had with my spring class, I have again grown close to this one, and will cherish the new people I have met. I am sure I will see some of them again. Some are moving on to new adventures in new parts of the country.

Again, the magic of the class is the fact that we all come from such different backgrounds, that we compliment each other. From loud (me) to the quiet, we all have our place, and our talents. Many, again, have become Facebook friends... part of that 191. I hope that means we can stay in touch.

At the same time, my wife returned from her cruise toAlaska. We spent a wonderful evening last night at a concert with Colin Hay, former lead singer of Men at Work. We expected a night of song. We received a night of total entertainment - part music, a lot of comedy, and even some interpretive dance and kazoo (courtesy of his wife Cecilia Noel). If you get the chance to see Hay in concert... GO! The nicest part of the evening though was seeing my wife smile through the whole thing. Time so rare, time so precious.

Which brings this full circle. Facebook friends add up as people you meet and want to have a connection. What that connection brings can differ as much as east and west. Some you will write to regularly. Some will just sit there. Some will never be thought of again. But if you feel, in the smallest way, that you have some kind of connection to each member of the group, you can consider yourself blessed. So I will be happy with what I have, and what I will have. For it is that kind of happiness that I need to have right now to compliment - not replace - the real life connections I have. Each has its place. Each has its value.

So if my words seem to travel in different directions for the next few weeks, please excuse the fact that my mind actually is in need of a GPS, or as one person so aptly put it - I've turned into Larry King - Houston HELLO! Thankfully, I know where I am, and where I want to be... taking all the directions that feel right and are chock-full of adventures - both new and familiar, thanks to friends - those who I sleep next to every night and those who linger in the processors of my laptop.

Good night to you all. (even though it's is extraordinarily early as I write this.)

Yours truly,

Johnny Blogger

On the subject of Slow Connections and Slow People

Two things are getting to me this evening.

First of all, I feel like I am using Prodigy on a 2400 modem as my DSL is more like DOA. I wonder out loud if Verizon is slowing down all the DSL customers on purpose so that they will all switch to their new Fios service. Hmmm.

I just returned from an evening out with some friends where I was able to participate in one of my favorite pastimes of karaoke. We went to a place in South Everett that was definitely a younger place. I had heard that the host there was awesome, according to the friends that recommended the place. Well, the regular host was not there... and so the challenges began.

A host is supposed to make you welcome. This host decided that he was going to run the show his way and came off as intimidating and unapproachable. There were few people in the bar when we started at 10 PM, and my friend Malia kicked off the night with a great rendition of Walking After Midnight. No one applauded except me. I wanted to do a warm up song, so I tried an improv version of Billy Joel's You May Be Right, playing it off as something fun as I can't carry a genuine tune. Many of the patrons laughed and got the joke. The host did not.

Later in the night, a very drunk guy got up and started throwing F Bombs all over the place and was warned to stop. The song he was singing was called Sober. I had put in for Mika's Big Girls but told the host that I thought I should change to my old standard Rehab as an answer to the very loud performance of Sober. He said you want to do Amy Winehouse, and I said, yes... that is why I asked.

I grabbed a cup and looked like I was drinking heavily and approached the microphone.

Those of you who don't know me well don't realize that I love doing Rehab because I don't drink, and do an improvised performance that includes some of Amy's stage show at times. 

Again, the host did not get the joke. I saw people laughing and seeing that it was a performance and not a serious attempt at singing the song. The host said something like "That was one of the strangest things I have ever seen here. Hey dude, do you dress up as her, with the heels and makeup. You need to if you're going to do that." Those might not have been his exact words... but the cynical tone told me that I was not in the right place.

So Malia and I were going to do one song, and suddenly "the host's rules" started to come out as he decided that he didn't want songs that he didn't want to play. Anything by Sheryl Crow, or Bohemian Rhapsody or Paradise by the Dashboard Light. No Summer Nights. And off he went to get a smoke and cranked up some hip hop tune and left for a break.

It was then that the strange crowd started appearing. A very drunk dude started singing a song I had never heard. My friends told me it was a big stoner song - which explains why goody two shoes me didn't know it. Then another song by a very pierced man who yelled his way through a number.

We left... it was then I realized that I was too old for the place, and that it was not Karaoke I loved to do. It is doing karaoke with people who get me, like my improv group. My friends understood where I was coming from, and felt out of place themselves.

So there are good experiences, and bad ones. The good from this is spending the evening with some people who have become friends, and that it's nice to have new friends. 

On a final note, it's less than 12 hours till my Honey comes home. The beard's gone and I am ready to be a married guy again.

Good Night, and You May Be Right - I may be crazy... but it just might be a lunatic you're looking for... otherwise, why would you hang out with me???

Yours truly,

Johnny Blogger

On the subject of Good Friends

There are Facebook friends. It's a town all unto itself. Through cyberspace, we share experiences and communicate.

Nothing, however, can beat the real thing, and today, I had a rare day full of friends. A rare day.

This morning, it was writing time with Steve. We are working on a screenplay that we have been toiling on for years. Okay, toiling is not a good word, although a toilet plays a major role in the story, but I digress. We always seem to have a wonderful time when we get together as we have similar senses of humor, and when we get on a roll, it's phenomenal. Today, we had Bob Barker doing a PSA for abused show dogs (but not abused in the way you'd wince at!)

For lunch, it was the guy with whom I coach basketball, Ken. While he is a Duck and I am a Husky, we get along remarkably well, and always have something to discuss other than Ducks and Huskies. His son Joe is a great athlete, and he plays on two teams with my son, Drew. Both Ken and Joe are ultracompetitive, but Ken knows when to tone it down around me. I, on the other hand, will act as his "good angel" when it comes to him getting upset on the field or on the court. We compliment each other - that's what good friends do.

Tonight, the family went to a game night hosted by our longest running couple friends, Willie and Jen. Talk about some good grubbin' and a fun time. We played a card game called Buy, which seems to be for those ultracompetitive types (maybe Ken should come along next time.) I spent most of the time letting others chime in and BUY, but actually won a couple of rounds, much to my pleasant surprise.

The countdown is on for the biggest gathering of my friends, both real life and Facebook, as well as those who are both, for the Karaoke Spectacular this Wednesday. I can't wait, and it's not because I want to sing. It's because I love being around friends.

Good night friends!

Yours truly,

Johnny Blogger

On the subject of a Vroom with a View

The story of Chicago continues.. if you have not read part one... click here!

Thursday morning, I left the Hilton Chicago and boarded a train south to recapture the past and zoom into the present and future. The Rock Island Line traverses through neighborhoods that range from those that look like they need some love to those right out of a John Hughes movie (Uncle Buck, Ferris Buehler). The hour and 25 minute ride was not on the express route, so I saw every little detail.

About 15 years ago, when making a connection in Charlotte, I made a phone call to one of my closest friends from high school, Tad. At the time, he was working for Proctor and Gamble. When I made that same connection with my new family in tow 10 years ago, Tad had moved into a new venture, and invited me to his new office. The catch was that we kept missing each other in person, as he was always traveling on business.

Tad’s “new venture” is now matured into a full fledged NASCAR operation, with two teams in the Nationwide Series, preparing for a Sprint Cup run next year. During an e-mail conversation a few years ago, Tad invited me to a race, and with the IDEA Conference happening the same week, finally the stars had aligned.

As I set foot off the train, bags in hand, there was Tad, looking pretty much like he did in high school. Okay, we both had matured (gained a little weight – he less than I) but still, it was as though time had stood still. He was in the middle of his business day, which meant there was no time to stand still. The destination was my home for the weekend – Chicagoland Speedway.

As soon as we reached the infield and picked up my credentials, I dropped my bags at the RV. Tad tosses me a Kingsford Racing hat and we headed right over to the garage where he introduced me to everyone. Right and left, handshakes… Greg, Scott, Turtle, and dozens of others… and then Kelly Bires and Marcos Ambrose, the drivers of the 47 and 59. 

Airguns were whirring, jacks were going up and down, engines were starting. The atmosphere was electric. As we sat in the hauler, which serves as part storage, part shop, part team headquarters, a very tall man comes in and sits down next to me. I recognized him immediately, although he introduced himself right away. 

“Brad Daugherty, nice to meet you.”

The former NBA and UNC hoops star is now with ESPN and involved with NASCAR, and he and Tad have been long time friends. Business was being spoken all around me from sponsorships to tech talk, I was being immersed in the world of racing in a big way. He handed me a headset and said, it’s time for practice, whereby we headed up for the spotters’ tower.

Marcos Ambrose can read a car like most people read a classic novel. With every turn, he knows where one act ends and the next scene begins. Unlike most books, this one is being written just words before being read, and through the headsets, I heard perfect comprehension.

Following the rained out second practice, Marcos shared another talent with me. He cooked dinner! Nothing like having a dinner cooked by someone you will watch on TV for the next many weeks.

Following the great spaghetti caserole, Tad and I spent the evening in the RV recapturing the last 27 years. We had spoken many times, but this was the first time we had actually had the chance to see each other.

You know the people that you see at a reunion that haven’t changed. Tad is one of those people. Every bit of intelligence, humor, and calmness was still there. He always looked like he was tired, but this was a focused man, with a million things on his mind, and challenges too numerous to mention. 

That night, we ventured out to see the fan festival that is NASCAR. Gretchen Wilson was set to perform, and we took a golf cart out to the party zone. As we were walking around, and Gretchen was taking the stage, a wall of black the likes of which I had never seen approached. We rushed back to the golf cart, and it hit. A severe thunderstorm swept through the area. Thousands scampered, and we were in a golf cart trying to get back to the RV that was our weekend home. We were drenched by the time we made it back. Record rainfall hit the area, and I thought we were going to end up in Kansas. Tad just laughed. He said this is about an every night occurrence in the south and midwest. I had forgotten.

We woke up. The RV was still there, and so were we. It was a fantastically beautiful, but sweltering. Race day was upon us. Tad spent the day in meetings. I spent the day going behind the scenes. Stops included the ESPN studio with Brad Daugherty, the tech meetings, garage adjustments, tech inspection, pit road, and the air conditioned comfort of the RV. Okay, that last one was just for survival.

At 5 pm, the drivers and sponsors arrived at the RV for dinner. Roy and the crew had cooked up a great BBQ with burgers and hot dogs. Pictures with Tad and both drivers were part of the festivities and I picked up some autographs for the kids. It was about that time that Tad asked me what I wanted to do for the race. My choices… be a member of the Pit Crew as a tire catcher or help him be a spotter high above the race. I said “pit crew? Are you kidding me? What happens if I mess up?”

Calmly he said it would be a one lap penalty if I missed the tire, and I said calmly, I think I will go up with you and spot. The thrill of just being asked was enough, but my heart couldn’t take the possibility of messing up catching a red hot tire that weighs about 85 pounds.

Seeing the race from the spotters’ perch is a different experience. You don’t watch a race like you would on tv. You concentrate on one driver, examining his every move, being his eyes for what surrounds him and what is approaching. Listening to the communications between Tad and Marcos sounded so simple, yet so important. As Marcus would prepare to pass a driver, the verbiage was short and sweet.

“Outside. Outside. Got him. Door. Quarter. Bumper. Clear, Clear.” 

I always laughed at the repitition of Clear Clear, but it is just the way it’s done.

As the 59 prepares to pit, Tad counts down the pit stalls to where Marcos has to stop.

“3700, entering, 3, 2, 1 your in.”

The Kingsford team finished 15^th. Marcos was running the same time or better than the leader for the last half of the race, but track position was not on his side. 100 laps, and not a wreck, and only one spin. It looked more like a parade, but with all the strategy, it had its drama.

Following the race, we went down on the track, then to the garage area where the teams packed up faster than you could imagine. Within an hour after the race, nearly everything was loaded in the hauler with military precision. And with it, my friend Tad said his goodbye.

Some of you might be wondering why my friend would be leaving after his friend who traveled 2000 miles to see him. It was his wife’s birthday, and he wanted to be home. It is one of the things I like the most about Tad – his unwavering loyalty. He was very apologetic. I said, please think nothing of it… in this business, family time the exception, not the rule.

I slept by myself in the RV… and again, a gully washer hit. Not as bad, but pretty big.

Cup day, and there was not much to do but relax. Tad did not have a driver in the race, so it was laid back. However, the Air Force Car, the 21, driven by Bill Elliott, was marketed by Tad’s company.

About two pm or should I say 1400 hours, the men in blue arrived, including a 3 Star General. Many “Sirs” were exchanged, and everyone was incredibly nice, especially Lt Col. Traughber, who talked helped guide me through who was whom. I was introduced to everyone as “Tad’s friend.” It seemed to make a lot of sense to everyone. I did not feel like I was out of place, as everyone greeted me and treated me like a VIP.

One problem though made things interesting. I was there on a Nationwide pass, which meant for all intents and purposes I should have not been there. Since I was living in the RV, they weren’t going to check for anything, but it also meant that the Driver/Owner lot was like my country, with no passport. If I left, I might not have returned. I was very comfortable with my surroundings and they fed me well again so it was all great. My seat for the race would be on top of the RV, and that was perfect for me.

All the others were shuttled off to the pits and garage for tours and pictures and tons of autographs. My son had asked me all weekend if I had seen Jimmie Johnson, his favorite driver. The group had that opportunity. I was in Nationwideville with no visa out. Until Troy came along.

Troy is one of the sponsorship people for JTG Racing, Tad’s company. It was his job to take care of the sponsors to make them feel like they had the most incredible experience at every race. He led the garage tours (along with two others) and shook a lot of hands. He came up to me and said “I’m trying.” I asked him what he was trying. He said, “I’m working on it.”

Unbeknownst to me, he was working on a pass for me to go to the garage and pits. He borrowed one and said, “Let’s go!” Off we went to the garages, but he said to follow him closely. There we were, on pit road and he asked me who I wanted to see. So I had my picture taken with some of the cars… until there is was – the 48. It was not Jimmie himself, but the car! I thought my son would at least be impressed.

Back to the RV for the race. I stood on top of the RV and had the perfect 360 degree view of the race. I could see everything on the track except the actual pit stops. Happily, the RV below me had their TV tuned to the race. Roy, the driver of the RV and one of the nicest people I have ever met, set me up with a scanner to hear all the communications. I was ready.

The vroom of the race and the prerace flyover was pretty deafening (still not as loud as the Cubby Bear, or so it seemed.) I listened to different drivers and spotters channels, but I felt lost. I was able to find the MRN radio broadcast, and suddenly, I knew just where to look. There was another benefit as well.

Brook, my new friend from Sprint Vision at the IDEA conference, had told me that listening to MRN on the scanner meant hearing the backhaul. Instead of commercials, I could hear the banter between commentators. She said it would be amazing. It was. If anyone is looking for a cast for a comedy show, look no further than these guys.

As soon as Amanda, the producer, said “clear,” the action began.

“I ate 5 of the Jim Beam chap sticks, and didn’t feel a thing! I guarantee you my intestines will never get chapped!”

“Did you sign an affadavit?... No, but I will happily have one of those with an extra shot after the race.”

Kyle Busch and Jimmie Johnson raced side by side for the final laps including the Green, White, Checkered finish, when Busch (who I might add is waaaaay more unpopular than his Presidential namesake – I’m not kidding) pulled away for the win.

After the race, I was glowing… and worn out. Roy would be my roomie for the final evening, and we had a nice chat. With Roy, you never have to search for a topic, and that’s a good thing. About midnight, with fireworks popping from the revelers who still wanted to party, it was time to call it a night.

Sunday morning, and the crew got some news. The track manager told the RV drivers unexpectedly that they needed to vacate the premises by three. They all thought they were not going to leave until Monday as their next destination was St. Louis, but they couldn’t pull in there until later in the week. So my ride to the train station by Roy was now going to be two hours early.

There is nothing open in Downtown Joliet on Sunday. So I had nothing to do, until I heard music playing from the beautiful ball park across the street from the station. Silver Cross Field is the home to the minor league Joliet Jackhammers, but on this day, it was American Legion ball. It gave me the opportunity to raise the number of facilities I toured on my trip to 6, and give my customary phone call to my best friend.

So now, it’s time to go home. As I am typing this, I am on the train from Joliet to Chicago (we are leaving Oak Park now and the doors are about to close!) From there, I will catch a CTA L to O’Hare and have about a 3 hour wait for my plane. I will take the time to have a big meal before getting on the plane to head home. From start to finish, it will be about a 14 hour journey.

I’ll be happy to hit my own bed tonight (my pillow took the trip with me so we don’t need to be reintroduced.) The nicest part though will be seeing my wife and kids after being gone for eight days.

Chicago will hold a very dear place in my heart forever. I’ll admit it, I am getting a little teary as I write these words. There are times you rediscover why it is you enjoy life so much, and this was one of those moments. From the new friends I made, to the new experiences I shared, to catching up with one of my dearest friends after 27 years… I will carry this inside my soul and cherish it.

Good night, Windy City. You’re my kind of town!

Yours truly,

Johnny Blogger

The full album for the race is available now on Picasa Web Albums, and on my Facebook page.

On the subject of Chicago and the IDEA Family

Greetings from Turn One…Saturday afternoon… from the infield at Chicagoland Speedway, where the Sprint Cup race will take place in just a few hours. It is just the opportunity to bring you up to speed on the past week... or at least start.

Life is a series of experiences. If that be true, I have lived a lifetime over the past week.

I arrived in Chicago last Sunday, and moved straight to experience one. Instead of taking the taxi to the hotel, I chose to ride the L – the CTA train from O’Hare to downtown. I was told it would let me off a couple of blocks from the hotel. I had taken many a trip on the Washington DC Metro growing up. This trip was old time subway and elevated. Interesting, until the two blocks walk turned to about 10 wheeling a 50 pound bag and a briefcase.

The IDEA Conference, a gathering of all the people who bring you the big screen shows at your arenas and stadiums, was an educational experience. People who do their jobs very well, shared their knowledge and experience with veterans and novices alike. Last season, I was the novice, this year, the sophomore. There was lots to learn, but this year, I could teach as well.

The conference was the reason for the trip. The people I met, and the things we did after the work was done is the basis for a compendium of memories.

Upon arriving, I missed the opening reception, (thanks to not taking a taxi like I should have.) Thankfully Pete from NC State and the Carolina Hurricanes recognized me from last year, and invited me to join a group at Bar Louie. Famished, I enjoyed the Italian Beef Sandwich. On my own, I was happy to have company… and lots of it as our small group turned to be a table for 10, then 20.

You never know whom you will click with as friends. Most people were at the conference as part of a big group. For me, it was just little ol’ me. (Okay, I am not little.) One other traveling solo was Owen from UT-Chattanooga. We came from similar backgrounds, and were guys who had to play multiple roles to be successful in our jobs. We arrived as strangers, we left as friends.

Night one of the conference meant a trip to the United Center and Soldier Field. Most of the night was spent looking at other peoples work, voting for the best. The rest of the night was open bar, which for someone who has not had a drink since the early nineties, meant I was going to spend a lot of time people watching.

Owen and I were in awe of the facilities, seeing massive and multiple screens where we each have smaller and a lot less screens to work with. We admired the work that went into the presentations, and silently wished we had more to do, but were happy with what we have.

We headed back on the bus. Me, sitting next to a very well inebriated member of the college sports community. Long bus ride, no problems though.

On day two, the university breakout was dedicated to judging the best video board in College Sports. Being my first year, I was not thinking I had a shot. Seeing the others, I didn’t, but following the presentations, many of my counterparts were extremely complimentary of my work. It was a rewarding moment.

Following a busy day, it was off to fulfill a childhood dream. I finally got to go to Wrigley Field.

The aroma of brats wafted through the air. Fans streamed through the streets, stopping at the neighborhood taverns, bursting with people, and amazing energy. It was the stuff of legend… Waveland Avenue. Cubbies fans shouting from the rooftops, and the game was ninety minutes away.

Time stood still. Actually, it was moving backwards. In the years I have worked in sports, I have lost the passion of having a love for one team. In front of my eyes, I stood in the midst of people who still had theirs, and I was caught up in it full force. So much so, I went into Wrigleyville Sports and proceeded to purchase a genuine Cubs Jersey and gameday cap. I looked like Mr. Cub, which was the nickname I earned as I walked into the stadium and into our section. Others had t-shirts and hats; I had the full meal deal... and heard it from everyone in our group.

As the game went on, my friend Owen and I sat next to each other scoring the game, just as I had done as a kid. I was seeing the game as a man of forty-five through the eyes of a boy of nine. Baseball seemed innocent again. The aura of Wrigley was working its magic.

During one inning break, the old TV’s in the rafters displayed an advertisement for Big Red gum. The screen said, “Slim as the chance you will see a Jumbotron replay.” How ironic… a group of Jumbotron operators enjoying a game where there was very little technology in sight.

William Petersen of CSI fame sang “Take me out to the Ballgame,” and I sang it out like Harry Caray would have wanted me to. I even added the customary “let’s get some runs!” Cubs won 7-1 in a game full of web gems. A perfect night.

After the game, Owen and I went over to the legendary watering hole known as the “Cubby Bear.” A very loud cover band provided the soundtrack, and my ears were in a losing battle. After a victory though, “Mr. Cub” was getting high fives from many a drunken stranger… and it was a good thing.

About 11, we took the L back to the hotel. My mind was in the most peaceful place it had been in months.

The final day of the conference put me front and center as a seminar panelist. Mr. Small Production Company sitting next to one of the biggest content providers in the industry. It was a case of big corporation vs. small business. In the court of audience opinion, I was told people liked my style.

We had about 90 minutes before our final event of the conference, and I realized I had not seen any of the real Chicago. I was staying at the Hilton, which had Grant Park, as it’s front yard. So I went zooming out the door, camera in hand, inspired by the funny photos that my improv group takes when they are on a road trip. This one from the Buckingham Fountain (a/k/a the Married with Children fountain). 

On the final night, we went to US Cellular Field, and it was there that I enjoyed the company of Brook and Eric from Sprint Vision. Brook is the kind of woman you could enjoy being around at any time, and it turned out that we had a lot in common when it came to our relationship with our spouses. She seems to be one lucky lady. Eric is a walking encyclopedia of everything. You name it, he knows it, and he exudes the joy of knowing it at every turn. He’s the kind of guy you would never beat at trivia, but he also is someone that you would want working next to you, as he is amazing at noticing details.

The White Sox let us on the field, and I mean on the field. Here, Brook and I decided to cut it up a bit, and then Todd (from Flying Spot in Seattle) and I engaged in a game of you taking a picture of me taking a picture of me you taking a picture of you. Everyone thought we were nuts. (We are.)

It was time to judge the final awards, and my Pac-10 counterpart at Arizona, Greg, and I paid close attention to every one's work, hoping desperately that we could have our shows reach that pinnacle someday.

The evening ended with Karaoke, and after 3 night of sponsor led open bars at the conference, the teetotaler led off the festivities by dedicating Rehab to the group. Brook and Eric kept the night interesting, with Brook doing the “Humpty Dance” (it’s a rap song – get your mind out of the gutter!) and Eric doing a song that looked 180 degrees from his personality. Then there were the highlights from the other singers, like John Adams (not that one) doing the Bee Gee's Tragedy better than Barry F'in Gibb, and leading one regular to the bar to ask "where in the hell did these people come from." And then there were the Backstreet Hokies, who dedicated a song to me, which was very nice and very scary all at the same time.

We all cabbed it back to the conference, and said our goodbyes.

Owen, Brook, Eric, and family of IDEA… they are people I will miss dearly, and hope that we will cross paths again. They are people I could see having over for a barbeque,  or catching an improv show or catching a ball game with,  but most live very far away. I have to be happy with e-mail, or Facebooking with them. And thankfully for me, another journey into cyberspace will allow me to keep being their friends… and not just Facebook friends!.

Tomorrow… Adventures from Turn One, and the Chicagoland Speedway.

Click here for the IDEA Chicago Album or go to my Facebook page.