Sunday morning round-up: Big & Strange, WY and FL

A round-up is a task performed by cowboys when they bring in the cattle.

I am not a cowboy. But I spent 30 years in The Cowboy State of Wyoming so sometimes feel like one.

Yesterday, a big galoot from Laramie, Wyoming – Frank Crum, 6-foot-7, 315-pound OL for the Denver Broncos -- caught a touchdown pass from Bo Nix as the Broncos beat the Bills. Crum grew up in Laramie, played football at Laramie High School, and played six years for the UW Cowboys. His father and grandfather all played for UW. Way to go, big fella.

Later, in overtime, Bo Nix powered the Broncos to the OT win. He broke his ankle along the way and now is out for the rest of the playoffs.

Meanwhile, UW’s Josh Allen, everyone’s favorite in Laramie where UW retired his uniform number in tribute, sat and watched his Super Bowl dreams evaporate.

A big, strange day for Wyoming. Wyoming excels in Big & Strange.

I miss it. Now living in Florida which has its own Big & Strange.

Earlier in the day, Chris and I cheered on the Florida Gators as they beat Vanderbilt 98-94 in NCAA men’s basketball. The Gators (UF my alma mater) are a hard-driving bunch with players from all over, some appearing mysteriously out of The Portal. There’s this small guard Xiavian Lee who portalized from Princeton to make amazing shots and there’s Rueben Chinyelu who steamrolls his way to the bucket. I was happy to see the win and glad there was no OT to interfere with the Broncos/Bills game. I know of no Wyoming connection for the Gators but looking for one.

Just finished reading (for the second time) “Never a Lovely So Real,” a biography of Nelson Algren by Colin Asher. I love the book for its unflinching portrait of Algren powered by Asher’s love of the subject. Algren was my first writing mentor, a strange old man dressed in rumpled clothes and a beat-up cap who taught writing to UF undergrads in 1974. I was a non-trad student, a university newbie at 23 who had been out doing something interesting. Nelson taught writing in many places (including the MFA bastion at Iowa) and was openly scornful of learning writing in the academy. He came from those mean streets of Chicago and learned his trade on the road. He wrote about the travails of regular folks. He must have looked around that stifling classroom and said what do these people know of the ways of the world? Go out and do something interesting and then write about it. I did. Was still learning. Algren told great stories and my Vietnam vet buddy Mike and I took Nelson to a strip club on Gainesville’s outskirts and had a swell time. We smoked pop with him although he said it didn’t do much for him as he had smoked it many times with jazz cats in 1930s Chicago. Nelson liked one of my stories and gave me his agent’s contact info which I never followed up on. He also gave us all a list of recommended reading and I worked my way through it, parked deep in the stacks of the UF library. Asher has a new book coming out which sounds cool. It’s titled “The Midnight Special: The Secret Prison History of American Music” and will be released by W.W. Norton on June 30. Check out his cool web site at colinasher.com for more info.

I get up every day cursing Trump and his fascist minions. Cursing is one thing. Doing something about it is another. I am a lifetime voter and Democrat who has been active in party politics. It ain’t always pretty but you gotta get your hands dirty if you want to make something. Algren was blacklisted for 30 years for being a Commie. His pal in the WPA Writers Project, Richard Wright, was forced out of the U.S. for his activism. I write regularly to the dimwits who want to turn Florida into a Maga Playground. Write. Demonstrate. Vote, please vote. There’s a good chance that Trump and his goons will find excuses to close the polls in November. Do not let him do that. It’s up to you.

Recalling Obama's big night at Denver's Mile High Stadium in the summer of 2008

As I watched President Obama's speech Wednesday night, I thought back to that late-August night in 2008 when he made his acceptance speech at the DNCC in Denver's Mile High Stadium. 

I was part of a capacity crowd that celebrated Obama's first major step along the way to the presidency. I was the embedded blogger with the Wyoming delegation, We sat at the 30-yard-line on Invesco Field, a field where the Denver Broncos would host their home opener in just a few weeks. On Sept. 14, the Broncos beat the San Diego Chargers 39-38 with a two-point conversion at 29 seconds left. Quarterback Jay Cutler had what might have been his best game as a Bronco. After an 8-8 season, the Broncos fired the old coach, hired a new coach and traded Cutler to Chicago. The team was not in the playoffs on the week of Jan. 20 when Barack Obama was sworn in as the 44th president. In the ensuing 11 years, the Broncos would get a new quarterback, lose one Super Bowl and win another. Obama won reelection in 2012 and experienced much drama in his eight years courtesy of the Know Nothing Republicans and Fox News.

But that Aug. 28 night at Mile High was glorious. More than 75,000 packed the stadium. That may be more than attended Trump's inauguration but that number could vary on whether you're listening to Trump's fever dreams or to reality.

I have never returned to that field of play, now named after Empower Retirement which was called Sports Authority Field before that. Naming rights are tricky things. Companies come and go, fortunes rise and fall. Empower was created with a merger between Great West Life and another insurance company. Great West insured my family during my career with the State of Wyoming. Great West was OK but battled us on payments related to drug and alcohol treatment and mental health care. Its replacement, Cigna, is much more accommodating. In the U.S. version of free-market capitalism, you never know upon what field you stand. The groomed turf can be pulled out from under you at any time. There's a metaphor in there somewhere. 

That Aug. 28 night 12 years ago is forever embedded in Mile High Stadium. The team brags about the fact that it's the only NFL football stadiums in which a presidential candidate made his acceptance speech and later went to to two terms as president. 

This year, the Dems' presidential candidate made his acceptance speech in an empty convention room. The Year of Coronavirus. The Broncos will play in an empty stadium. That will be eerie. Mile High has a reputation as one of the loudest and rowdiest in the NFL. Not sure if the Broncos will follow baseball with cardboard cutout fans and, in some cases, projections of fans filmed in earlier seasons. The team has quite an imagination so why not?

During the next sixty-some days in 2008, I worked hard to get Obama elected. I walked neighborhoods and called registered voters in Wyoming, Colorado, and Pennsylvania, I worked for Dems jockeying for Wyoming House and Senate candidates. I watched a lot of football too. Obama won, of course, over the late John McCain. Obama fielded a well-oiled machine that delivered votes from some unexpected places (not Wyoming, alas). Obama repeated in 2012 over Mitt Romney. A presidential two-peat is like back-to-back Super Bowl wins. The Broncos did that under John Elway who we don't talk about much because he is such a Trump ass-kisser. Looking back, McCain and Romney were moderates. Republicans grew sick of losing with qualified moderates so turned to a billionaire and white supremacist and reality show host, Donald Trump. They were helped by decades of GOP voter suppression and gerrymandering. And voter apathy, can't forget that. 

So, the democrats held their pep rally this past week and are fired up and ready to go. The GOP Hatefest will light up the airwaves next week. We can look forward to rousing speeches by The My Pillow Guy and Scott Baio. It will finish off with a stemwinder by Donald Trump which will be filled with the cruelty and hatred he has specialized in during the past four years.

Damn. You'd think that the more qualified and more talented team -- the Democrats -- could breeze over the crooks and liars of The Trump Team. A lopsided win, like the Team Formerly Known as the R*dskins over the Broncos in Super Bowl XXII or the Seattle Seahawks over the bumbling Broncos in Super Bowl XLVIII. You'd think that unless you didn't know history and the vagaries of human nature. Demagogues have subverted democracies before. If Trump wins, we can forget about our democratic republic. It will be nostalgia, just like the rousing cheers for Obama in Mile High Stadium in the summer of 2008. 

In the Denver Public Library, remembering a Florida Thanksgiving

Convened with family on Thanksgiving and nobody mentioned Trump. Maybe it was Trump Fatigue Syndrome (TFS). Maybe we all were cognizant that if the subject came up, it would be like venturing out into the ocean in a too-small boat searching for Jaws. All hell would break loose. Trumpmania would batter the boat, eat one of the crew and close in for the kill.

It didn't happen. Maybe that's because my niece Erin, who was getting married on Nov. 21, urged all of us not to talk politics anywhere near the wedding. She had witnessed the post-election bloodletting on Facebook, Twitter and real life and wanted no part of that on her special day. We were all good do-bees that day, and it carried over to Thanksgiving Thursday at Disney.

The truce is over. But I will save my good shots for later as I have to catch up with the last two weeks. When last I posted, I was in the midst of Trumplandia in Kissimmee, Florida, the strip of Hwy. 192 that circles Disney World and leads into it. It's an endless array of  motels, fast-food joints and timeshare hucksters. Chris and I survived it, although there were doubts along the way. Once we got over to Daytona Beach, our old hometown, life took a turn for the better. We saw people we knew, imbibed some drinks, watched the ocean and eventually got into the wedding groove. My assignment, one that I had gladly accepted a year ago, was to fill in for my dear departed brother Patrick and give the bride away. I took the honor very seriously, even breaking the tuxedo out of mothballs for the occasion. I walked the bride down the aisle and handed her off to the groom, Michael. I did this in the name of all of my brothers and sisters, Pat's siblings, who were all in attendance, save for Pat and brother Dan, both deceased. I felt Pat's presence. He would have loved to be on hand for this day. He drank himself to death or, more accurately, drank himself into bad health and then caught a virulent strain of pneumonia and that's what killed him. We loved Pat. We also are angry at him. That sums up family life. Angry one moment, glad the next. My brothers and I had some of the craziest fights. But when challenged from the outside, we responded like the 300 Spartans at the Gates of Fire.

Pat's spirit was there. I look at some of the old photos, such as the ones we have from a backpacking trip we took to Colorado in 1975. He is young and happy and long of hair, and so am I. Over time, he changed. His brothers, for the most part, were able to leave the heavy drinking behind. He did not. He grew more aloof and somber. We talked often but saw one another seldom due to physical distance. I have nothing else to say about that.

I spent Thanksgiving with family at Disney's Fort Wilderness. Many of them camped while I went home to my sister's condo at night. I may have more camping experience that anyone else there. But it's a different kind of camping. We were always tent people. Sleeping bags on a pad on the tent floor. Cooking by campfire. You know, camping as it exists in the Rocky Mountain West.

Disney camping is more like Celebrity Camping. My friend Dave in Denver insisted that Celebrity Camping was camping out of the back of a car or truck. You might sleep on the ground. But you were equipped by coolers and beer and ice and music and food easily dispensed from a package or a can. This sort of camping was done in lieu of real camping, which involved planning and carrying things and erecting tents or other shelters. That kind of camping took time and patience. For Celebrity Camping, you just had to grab your stuff, throw it in the trunk and go, baby, go -- get out of Denver!

Disney Camping during Thanksgiving is part real camping and part Celebrity Camping. It takes planning to reserve a campsite a year in advance, put down a deposit on a gigantic camper and then actually plan the meals. Rent a golf cart, can't forget that, as each campsite has a charging station. You'll need decorations, too. One of my sisters said she often wondered who buys those giant inflatables at Wal-Mart. Wonder no more -- it's my friends and family from Volusia County, Florida. Also the guy from New York who comes down to Fort Wilderness every year with dozens of holidays inflatables, including a big one that recreates a scene from "Frozen" in a giant snow globe. He spends three months at Disney with his inflatable phantasmagoria. It even has a lighted walkway that encircles the exhibit. A group of campers come every year from Georgia and South Carolina to erect a teepee village. They are not Native Americans but former Scouters who got bit by the BSA's pseudo-Native mythology and practices, such as Order of the Arrow. The teepees, patterned after those used by the Cheyenne, were gorgeous, I have to say. I also wondered what the Standing Rock Sioux might think of them.

Many creative campers. Many Disney inflatables on display. Also, many banners and displays for favorite sports teams. Many FSU Seminoles and Florida Gators, as the two teams were set to square off in the upcoming Rivalry Weekend. I saw entire sites given over to University of South Carolina Gamecocks, University of Mississippi (Ole Miss) and other assorted large southern public universities whose main function seems to be sports merchandising. Some of you may believe the stories about big-time college football and the NFL are on their way out due to mothers who won't let their babies grow up to be linebackers because they might dent their blunt skulls. Au contraire, mes amis. I personally witnessed the FSU/UF match-up. Each team fielded about 500 players and a quorum of coaches. UF itself arrived at Doak Campbell Stadium with a fleet of team buses, escorted by police. This annoyed swarms of tailgaters who were delayed, sometimes by minutes, from reaching their favorite keg. Tailgating is religion in the South. Actually football is religion and tailgating is a sacrament, if I may use a Catholic reference. The food and booze flow freely. Many toasts are made to the old alma mater. Many games of cornhole are played as it, unlike big-time SEC football, can be played successfully drunk. I myself witnessed several bean bags go into the cornhole when the thrower was imbibing.

My sister took me to the football game. She is a dedicated Noles fan, as FSU Seminoles fans refer to themselves. I am a dedicated fan of the Florida Gators, although I haven't attended a game in person since 1977.  The Gators lost that game too, also to FSU. If this keeps up, I may have to skip the 2055 game. They may be playing it on Mars by then.

I covered a lot of territory during my Florida trip. I sojourned to Kissimmee and Winter Park and downtown Orlando and Daytona Beach and Ormond Beach and Gainesville and Tallahassee. If you get a chance, visit the Proof Brewing Company's beer garden in Tallahassee's Railroad Square Art Park. Great beers, fun atmosphere and (of course) a cornhole court. I certainly liked Proof's La La Land IPA and its Mango Wit. Met the brewmaster, too, a big galoot wearing Florida Gators colors while he tended his vats. "Most of the beer here is brewed by Gators," he told us. I also recommend the Osceola County History Museum. Great displays and it's free. The beach, as always, is invigorating. Family is worth seeing again, especially if they buy the football tickets. Writers Block is a great bookstore in downtown Winter Park.  I would not recommend driving in Orlando during peak times, which seems to be from 12:01 a.m. until 11:59 p.m. Florida's voters don't believe in rapid transit so they are stuck with extremely slow transit from one place to the other. I did look longingly at the sleek Sunrail train as it pulled into the station. You can take the train a few miles in Orlando, and Amtrak runs up and down the east coast. But the Republican Congress has starved rapid transit in the same way it did Obamacare.

Right now I'm writing this in Denver's cool downtown library. I look over Civic Center Park. I'm waiting for the Christmas lights to flicker on at the Civic Center. We always liked that when we lived here. They have the Parade of Lights this weekend but not sure I want to venture down into the maelstrom to watch it. It's a family outing kind of thing. The Griswolds may be there.

See you soon.

The Broncos vs. The Bard

A writer, dead for 400 years, caused me to miss the first half of the Denver Broncos season opener.

I know, where are my priorities? William Shakespeare vs. two NFL teams that battled it out in Super Bowl 50?  Denver, our southern neighbor, was at a fever pitch for weeks leading up to the game. My Colorado hometown may no longer be a cow town but it still bleeds orange and blue every fall. Three Super Bowl championships, multiple Super Bowl appearances (we don't talk much about the first three or the one in February 2014), many league championships and wins over the dreaded Raiders. I was a jock in high school and a sports reporter as a young man. Sports are in my blood.

But so is Shakespeare. My accountant father's library still had his college Shakespeare texts but nothing on finance and economics. I was more interested in reading first-hand accounts of World War II. Dad seemed happy that his eldest child loved reading and books. I think he was a frustrated academic, one who would have been more comfortable surrounded by books than IRS rules and regs. Not a teacher but /probably a researcher, as he wasn't all that good with people.

Shakespeare's First Folio is touring the U.S., courtesy of the Folger Shakespeare Library in Washington, D.C. Actually, six of the first folios are touring and one landed at the State Museum in Cheyenne. Published in 1623, it is kept under lock and key in a climate-controlled glass case watched over by a security guard. The pages are open to Hamlet's famous "To be or not to be" speech. The text is small and difficult to read, not only because of its size but because the language -- Early Modern English -- is arcane to us. Here's a sample:

A bad quarto was basically a bootlegged copy of the script, written hurriedly by an audience member or recalled later by actors. Think of a bootlegged copy of, say, a Grateful Dead concert in the 1970s. The good quarto was a copy of the play taken from the source. The first folio is the 1623 version that featured 36 plays, 18 of which had never before appeared in print.

I didn't have to read the fine print to know the value of what I saw. The first folio saved 16 of Shakespeare's plays from oblivion. They include Macbeth, The Tempest, Henry VIII and Twelfth Night. Forsooth, what would Hollywood have done without the three witches or Prospero's island? I would never had been treated to a nude version of Macbeth's witches at Gainesville's original Hippodrome Theatre. My life would be leff without it. 

If you want to talk monetary value, a first folio was sold at auction in 2001 for $6.1 million. I'll take two! When it was hot off the presses, a first folio went for about a pound. In today's money, that's somewhere between $150-$250.

But it's not the money really now is it? As the State Museum exhibit points out, Shakespeare and his plays have given us phrases that we use every day and countless hours of entertainment at the movies. I believe that I first heard lines from Romeo and Juliet in a Bugs Bunny cartoon. Every state boasts a Shakespeare company, usually one that tours performances every summer. In Wyoming, that's the Wyoming Shakespeare Company out of Lander. I recall a memorable version of King Lear on the Cheyenne Botanic Gardens lawn. Nature provided its own thunder and lightning for the famous storm scene with King Lear and The Fool. Here's Lear: 

Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! Rage, blow!
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drenched our steeples, drowned the cocks!
You sulfurous and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt-couriers of oak-cleaving thunderbolts,
Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,
Smite flat the thick rotundity o' th' world,
Crack nature’s molds, all germens spill at once
That make ingrateful man!

Now that's a storm. 

Last night was rounded out with a presentation by UW Prof Peter Parolin: "From the Fringes to the Folio: Crossing Borders with Shakespeare in Life, on Stage, and in the Globalized World." Fascinating talk, and I was surprised on how many stayed after the food and wine and entertainment to hear an academic speak. I had not thought about "migration as one of Shakespeare's principal themes." But Parolin has, at length. He accompanied it with  a PowerPoint presentation, his first, which acted as a helpful assistant to the talk. 

I had not thought of migration and immigration as big Shakespeare topics. But crossing borders happens a lot. The Merchant of Venice and Othello are good examples, with their "foreigners" as key characters. Parolin even quoted a brief snippet from Shylock's speech: "In Aleppo once..." The Syrian city has been in the news lately as it suffers the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune -- and the forgetfulness of presidential candidates. 

Thanks to everyone at Wyoming Cultural Resources for bringing the folio to Cheyenne and staging the event. The First Folio will be in town through the end of September. 

I made it back to my Smart TV to watch the second half, in which the Broncos staged a comeback. With 9 seconds left, the Carolina Panthers kicker nailed a field goal but it was negated by a Broncos timeout. The second kick went wide to the left. That kicker was feeling some slings and arrows last night on Twitter. In Denver, they were partying like Falstaff and Prince Hal in 1402. 

Sunday morning round-up

Anyone out there had norovirus, gastroenteritis, the intestinal bug, stomach flu, the cruise ship curse? It's all the same thing. Unpleasant but fast moving. I should be fine by start of work on Monday. Last year at this time, I was told by my doc that my stomach cramps were the onset of the bug. He gave me a nausea shot and sent me home. Meanwhile, my heart kept revolting and I didn't get help until the new year. Yes, I keep bringing this up. And no, I won't stop. Not because I blame my doc. But because heart attack symptoms can be almost anything. A pain in the ass? That's probably something else, such as watching too much Fox TV or spending too much time with that Tea Party relative. But unexplainable pains in the stomach, side, arm, head, back? As my old Wyoming pal Dick Cheney says: "When in doubt, check it out." That doesn't go for weapons of mass destruction in a troublesome foreign country whose initials are I-R-A-Q. But it does for the H-E-A-R-T.

The Broncos play in Oakland today.  Normally this would be a cause of great drama, but the Raiders are only a shadow of their former selves and the Broncos have Peyton Manning. This used to be one of the greatest rivalries in the NFL, but you almost have to go back to the John Madden days for that. Howard Cosell belittling the Broncos on Monday Night Football. All those crazy fans in the rickety south stands of the old Mile High Stadium. The fans used to get on Madden, but he has said on national TV that he and his team would always get revved up to play in Denver. Madden, now a video-gaming gazillionaire, probably has softened with time. Those games could be brutal. Gradishar and Alzado and Jackson and Hayes and Stabler-to-Biletnikoff and Morton-to-Moses. My late brother Pat, the only one of us five brothers to play football in high school, was a Raiders fan. He liked the Broncos, too, but only when they weren't playing the Raiders. Wonder what he'd think of the present-day Raiders? I'll think of you today, Pat, when I'm watching the game, especially if (when) a fight breaks out.

I hear that Florida will soon bypass New York as the third most populous state. Not surprising, considering that millions of New Yorkers have deserted Syracuse and Buffalo and Albany for the Sunshine State. I spent about half of November in Florida and experienced first-hand that population boom. Orlando traffic is crazy. A commuter line, SunRail, is being built by Canadians (the original snowbirds) but even that may not help alleviate the congestion. I'm going to central Florida in a couple weeks for my niece's wedding. The difference this time is that I'll be driving instead of leaving that to others. Wish me luck. I live in a small city, one where drivers think nothing of stopping in the middle of the road to chat with neighbors. Our new two-lane roundabout has caused apoplexy in some old-timers who see it as a commie plot against the all-American tradition of streetlights and running those very same lights to cause horrible crashes. As I said, wish me luck.

Have a happy and healthy new year.

And when in doubt, check it out.

Albany County Democrats hosts Demtoberfest Oct. 12 in Laramie

The Albany County Democrats are hosting Demtoberfest Oct. 12 at the Lincoln Community Center, 365 W. Grand Ave.in Laramie. Barbeque! Vegetarian options! Beer! Music by Libby Creek Original and Jeff Duloz! Food will be served around 6 p.m  and music starts around 7 p.m. There will also be a silent auction.

Early birds arriving after the Homecoming game vs. New Mexico are welcome, as beer and beverages will be ready early.

RSVP by ordering your tickets at https://secure.actblue.com/page/albanydems

Tickets at the door, and the Dems will accept credit/debit cards as well as cash and check.

Suggested Donation:
Entry (Food, Drink, and Fun!) $15
Darling, Daring Democrat $30
Extremely Wonderful Democrat $50
Ready to Win Elections $100

Questions? Please email info@albanycountydems.com or call (307) 299-0204.

A river of depression runs through it

During today's Super Bowl, I'm going to think a bit about depression. I know how debilitating depression can be. But rarely do I give any thought to professional athletes struggling with the very same malady. Brendan McLean wrote a fine post for the NAMI blog, "Football: A Mind Game." In it, he tells the tales of two NFL players: Terry Bradshaw and Ricky Williams. The jocular Bradshaw doesn't show it on air, but he experienced bouts of depression throughout his career. He treated it himself with alcohol. As we know from novelist William Styron ("Darkness Visible") and TV news commentator Mike Wallace, there comes a time when alcohol no longer works and you have to face the beast. Here's how Wallace described it:

At first I couldn't sleep, then I couldn't eat. I felt hopeless and I just couldn't cope and then I just lost all perspective on things. You know, you become crazy. I had done a story for 60 Minutes on depression but I had no idea that I was now experiencing it. Finally, I collapsed and just went to bed.

Brendan quotes these stats: men are four times more likely than women to commit suicide and half as likely to seek help. So, when the breakdown comes, it can have a Hemingway end or something better. Bradshaw found help in therapy and antidepressants. The taciturn Ricky Williams smoked pot and got busted out of the NFL. He finally found some relief in yoga and meditation. The Denver Broncos' Kenny McKinley committed suicide before the 2010 season.

So, spend a few minutes thinking about the mental health of the athletes out on the field. Forget about pity. Empathy is what's called for. Just think, "It can happen to anybody..."  

Read Brendan's column at http://blog.nami.org/2011/02/football-mind-game.html

Sunflower fields forever

We awoke to sunflowers.

Millions of them. The rising sun lit up their golds and bronzes and greens.

Pat and I were in Oklahoma, a few exits south of the Kansas border. We had reached the spot late at night after hitchhiking from Houston the day before.

Now it was time to get our gear and get on our way to the Colorado Rockies.

The sunflowers dazzled the eyes. Trucks roared by, tall flower stalks bowed in their wakes.

On this day when we celebrate Pat's life, I remember that summer day 35 years ago. Two brothers on an adventure. We left behind hot and muggy Florida for a high-country jaunt.

But on this Oklahoma morning, the mountains seemed far away. Someone finally had mercy on us and gave us a ride. Later that day outside Salina, Kansas, we almost were arrested. "Go 50 miles per hour or go to jail," said the burly state patrolman. Pat always liked that quote.

No way we were going 50 miles an hour. So we went into town and found the bus station. The bus we took to Denver barely broke the 50 m.p.h barrier But we did arrive in Denver and eventually the mountains.

Backpacking into wild country. In the evening, I cooked freeze-dried meals on my tiny stove. As night fell, Pat built a fire and I read poems from Gary Snyder's "Turtle Island." As a rule, Pat wasn't into poetry. But Snyder wrote of wide-open skies and wild, unconquered nature. It seemed fitting.

A month passed quickly. Too soon I was back in Gainesville and Pat back in Daytona Beach. In a few months he was off to the Air Force.

We talked many times over the years. Once, two years passed in which we didn't speak. I said some harsh things that he didn't like. We each were too stubborn to make the first call. Pat broke the ice and called me when he became a grandpa for the first time. We talked more when he was in treatment for a month. We wrote letters for the first time in decades.

Pat and I talked about our Colorado trip many times. I wish now that we could have done it again. That we could have spent more time together.

But the 1975 trip was a moment in time. Two brothers waking up in a field of sunflowers.

We saw nothing but a bright future spread out before us.

We saw it together, as brothers.

So I say this to my dear departed backpacking brother Pat, to my Air Force brother, to my Gator-loving brother, to my brother the softball coach, my brother the gardener, the planter of trees and flowers and tomatoes....

Pat, may you always be surrounded by fields of flowers.

Update: This is the eulogy I delivered as part of my brother Pat's memorial service on Monday, Dec. 13, at the Fred Lee Park softball field in Palm Bay, Fla. I will share the full text of the memorial in later posts...

Herschel Walker speaks out for mental health

I came across this info while perusing the web. It encourages me that a "football legend" such as Herschel Walker would come out of the closet, mental health-wise. Brave man.

Here's the info:

It takes courage to seek help.

Former Dallas Cowboy and NFL football legend Herschel Walker had a stunning football career. However, unbeknown to many he battled with dissociative identity disorder and suffered a severe mental health crisis.

Herschel’s struggle with mental illness is quite common. According to the National Institute of Mental Health one in four adults, some 57.7 million Americans, experience a mental health disorder in a given year.

In partnership with Walker, UBH has instituted a special initiative to raise awareness of mental health disorders and to erase the stigmas attached to them that keep people from seeking help. As part of the effort, UBH offers a specialized Breaking Free treatment program for adults who face multiple mental health disorders.

If you or someone you know and love needs help, call the UBH Care Center at 888-320-8101 today. It takes courage to seek help.

 

FMI: http://www.ubhdenton.com/HerschelWalker.html

Can Progressives be REAL sports fans?

Phoenix Suns wear "Los Suns" jerseys for Game 2 of NBA playoffs. Christian Petersen, Getty Images

Can Progressives be sports fans? Real fans, not just bowtie-wearing George Will-style life-is-like-baseball-and-vice-versa fans. I mean real fans, those who follow their team's ups-and-downs, cheer wildly when they win and suffer publicly in defeat.

Another question: can sports teams be politically active for Progressive causes? Professional teams are corporations and, as corporations, must be politically savvy. They cannot afford to piss off potential fans, especially rich ones who buy skyboxes. Rich fans who buy skyboxes tend to be corporate titans with similar business interests. They speak the same languages -- money and conservative politics. These traits were put on public display with news that the owners of the Arizona Cardinals NFL team were backers of the awful Arizona anti-immigrant law. The Phoenix Suns offered a counterpoint when its players wore "Los Suns" jerseys for their NBA playoff game on Cinco de Mayo. Two amazing things about this: 1. it was the owner's idea; 2. it actually happened. Thus, a pro sports team is now on record opposing a loony right-wing law, even though some of its ticket holders are undoubtedly loony right-wingers. It is Arizona, right?

Here are a few paragraphs about the Suns' decision by Michael Wilbon, sports columnist for the Washington Post:

Instead of embracing a convenient neutrality that might have helped the bottom line with a great many locals who favor a new law that requires local police to check the legal status of suspected undocumented immigrants, Suns owner Robert Sarver called the law "flawed" and "mean-spirited" and asked his players what they thought of wearing "Los Suns" jerseys during Wednesday night's playoff game. Depending on your point of view, it was either an act of support for the Latin community, whose members feel targeted by the law, or an act of defiance toward those in the larger community who are angry over illegal immigration in a border state and rail at any dissent.

The folks here who wanted, at worst, silence picked the wrong team. The Suns locker room has too many independent thinkers, too many activists, too many players whose experiences and sensibilities are, thankfully, a lot broader than most of their neighbors. Sarver's players not only had no problem wearing "Los Suns" jerseys, they felt, to a man, pretty much the same way he did, damn the backlash, and were quite willing to say it. And there was plenty of backlash. Suns Coach Alvin Gentry, an hour before Game 2 against the Spurs tipped off, pointed to his computer, referring to the angry e-mails from folks who wanted the players in lockstep with the state's misguided new law.

Big-time college sports teams, particularly BCS football, love rich alum who buy skyboxes and sink tons of money into the university, usually in the sports programs -- but not always. Coddling rich conservative patrons of its sports programs was behind the University of Wyoming's refusal to let sixties radical Bill Ayers to speak on campus last month. Good to know that your state's only university considers building a few more skyboxes more important than freedom of speech.

What kind of politics are on display at NFL games? The Star-Spangled Banner, military aircraft fly-overs, tributes to veterans, Honor America Day, etc. Sports team wear their conservative politics openly when they name their stadiums after corporations. That's one conservative corporation wearing the banner of another conservative corporation. A wolf dressed in wolf's clothing.

When U.S. Army Ranger Pat Tillman was killed in Afghanistan, Arizona State University and the Arizona Cardinals fell all over themselves celebrating his sacrifice. On Sunday, September 19, 2004, all NFL teams wore a memorial decal on their helmets in honor of Tillman. One of Tillman's former teammates was Broncos QB Jake Plummer. He wanted to continue to wear the Tillman decal through the rest of the season just like his former Arizona mates. The NFL said no, that Plummer's helmet would not match those of his Bronco teammates. So Plummer grew a beard and long hair to celebrate the pre-Army Tillman.

He was indeed a brave and principled man who gave up big football bucks to join the Army. Then we discovered that the Pentagon covered up the fact that Tillman was killed by his own men. Tillman had become outspoken in his disenchantment with our overseas misadventures. The public celebrations of heroism evaporated into the mists of history.

What would happen if the NFL declared "Man Enough to Wear Chartreuse" day. Pro rodeo marks "Man Enough to Wear Pink" days to declare its support in the fight against breast cancer. But "Man Enough to Wear Chartreuse" day would mark the struggle for LGBT Equal Rights. How many NFL players and rodeo bareback riders would support that? How many NFL fans would complain, making loud empty threats about turning in their season tickets?

As a prog-blogger with a healthy skepticism, I simply cannot engage in unbridled hero worship. I'm a fan, but a jaundiced one (and I don't even like yellow). I am happy that University of Florida's Tim Tebow was chosen by the Denver Broncos in the NFL draft. I plan to buy a No. 15 Tebow Broncos jersey and wear it publicly. Will Tebow become another Hall-of-Famer like the legendary John Elway? Elway is a Republican, conservative enough to spurn a post-Super-Bowl appearance at the Clinton White House. Tebow is a conservative, a fundamentalist Christian anti-abortion crusader. I am on the opposite end of that issue, as I've written here before. Tebow has enough guts to declare his views publicly on a Super Bowl ad. I'm man enough to support his NFL aspirations. Until he fails and is traded to the Dallas Cowboys. Sure, Tebow is a Gator. But a dedicated Denver Broncos fan cannot cheer for the Dallas Cowboys, no matter whom the quarterback is.

A real fan, Progressive or not, has scruples.

On the front burner -- Dem/Repub chili

Making a batch of Dem/Repub chili this afternoon. Great weather for it -- 52 degrees and cloudy. Football weather.

My chili "starter" was a batch of spaghetti sauce whipped up by my Republican friend Stephen from Lebanon, Tenn. He and his family stayed with us during Cheyenne Frontier Days. Stephen and his wife Kate are Republicans and probably what you'd call fundamentalist Christians. Stephen preaches at cowboy churches and also is a rodeo judge. Almost looks as good in a cowboy hat as I do. Except I don't like horses or rodeos. I play a cowboy on stage every summer at the old-fashioned melodrama. When the final curtain drops, I put away my cowboy duds until next summer.

Ain't that just like a liberal? Merely an actor on the stage of life? Full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

Stephen, on the other hand, rides horses and even has some on his rural Tennessee property. He has real horseshit on his boots. He's also a trained chef who can whip up French delicacies one day, a batch of spaghetti sauce the next.

Speaking of spaghetti sauce... Stephen made some sauce for all of us this summer. A few pounds of burger, some canned tomatoes (and a few fresh ones) and spices. He whipped it all together -- along with a salad and garlic bread -- without breaking a sweat. It was fantastic sauce and so much left over that we froze a batch for later. And later is today.

To the defrosted sauce, I added some roasted Hatch chilies from New Mexico, bought this morning at the Cheyenne Farmers' Market. Most people know Hatch for its chilies and the Hatch Cut-Off, a route that links I-25 and I-10 and saves a half hour off the trip from Albuquerque to Tucson. I believe that this part of Hispanic N.M. went heavily Democratic in the 2008 elections.

I added some of my own tomatoes, also heavily Democratic like me. Plus some chili powder and cumin, both McCormick brands packed in Maryland, one of the bluest of the blue states despite being south of the Mason-Dixon Line. I also added some Mrs. Dash Southwest Chipotle seasoning blend, packed in Illinois, another blue state (especially around Chicago). Now, the spices come from all over. Harvested by hand by Indonesians and Brazilians making a few bucks a day (if that). I suppose this could be seen as a brand of economic imperialism that goes back to Marco Polo. Are there free-trade spice co-ops? Something I need to look up.

I whipped it all together, simmered for an hour, and filled a big bowl with the results. On the side, I had tortilla chips, sour cream and grated cheese. I ate, and watched portions of the Oklahoma State vs. Houston and UCLA vs. Tennessee football games. Those blue-state devils from Southern California trying to impose their ways upon the godly Vols of the Tennessee hills, Vols as in Volunteers, eager to fight in all U.S. wars going back to the Revolution. You'd think the Vols would have the advantage, but they lost to the Los Angelenos.

Hey, Stephen -- the chili was delicious. I'll freeze some and we can sup together next time you drop into my blue house in the reddest of red states. You're always welcome, pard.

Peaceful coexistence of football and the arts

Arizona was flush with victory when the NFL Cardinals pulled off a win over the Philadelphia Eagles. Arizona was never supposed to get this far, so we have to give Kurt Warner & Company a little credit for hanging in there. I'm a Denver Broncos fan, so what do I know? One radio report said that the Cardinals hadn't hosted a home playoff game since 1947 when the team was in Chicago. All those years in Saint Louis and the Cardinals never had a hometown playoff game? I may have to look up that fact on The Google.

Tucsonians didn't seem too electrified by the win, from what I could see. Maybe they're too far from the epicenter of activity in Glendale, which is west of Phoenix and about 120 miles or so from here. At one point, the Cardinals planned to build the new stadium in a so-called blighted area north of downtown. Living within the blight at the time was a coterie of creative types building the city's first artist district. That's the Roosevelt Row district that my son and I visited on Friday and Saturday. It still has a way to go before it's thriving all the time and not just during weekends, but that day will come. Imagine that the district could have been buried under the crushing weight of stadium skyboxes leased by tycoons who were quickly losing their dough in bad investments and asking the gubment for more, please sir, more.

I'll take the art.

If you want to talk economic development, the arts beat sports in most U.S. cities. A study in Denver a few years ago showed that the arts contribute more money to the metro economy than sports. And Denver is one sports-crazy town. As in Denver, Phoenix boasts the big three professional sports franchises: Arizona Diamondbacks (MLB), Cardinals (NFL) and Suns (NBA). Denver has the added draw of the NHL Avalanche. I don't know if there's an NHL team in the Valley of the Sun.

On Saturday, Kevin and I rode the new Light Rail from the Heard Museum to Roosevelt Row. The trains were jammed with people. They (the trains not the passengers) were quiet, clean and fast. Inexpensive, too. Nobody checked our tickets but we were warned over the P.A. that the transit police could stop us at any time and ask for our passes. If none was forthcoming, the transit cops could throw us off the train, just like they do in old Buster Keaton silents.

Tomorrow's the Martin Luther King, Jr., Day March at the University of Arizona, followed by an MLK Day Festival in Reid Park. Best way to spend my last full day in Arizona.

It's a cold windy day in Wyoming, but...

I'm a long way from Gainesville, but still get to celebrate the Gators' win Thursday night against Oklahoma.

Football aside, which university is the best?

A non-sports argument erupted yesterday on "Mike & Mike in the Morning" on ESPN2.

Mike Greenberg, a graduate of the Northwestern University Journalism School, saw the match-up between Northwestern and Missouri Dec. 29 in the Alamo Bowl and dubbed it the Journalism Bowl, a battle between schools with the best two J-Schools in the U.S.

He received all sorts of e-mails in response. One really cracked him up -- me too. It came from a guy who worked at NBC 17. It read: "With all do (sic) respect... you forgot the Gators and its great Journalism School." That last part is not verbatim, but the first line is. Here's a guy arguing for the superiority of his university training and he doesn't check his spelling. It's possible he made a mistake. More likely he didn't know the correct word.

Can we forgive him because he's a TV guy?

Mike didn't. He and Mike Golic banned the perpetrator from the show for life but later changed their minds, banning him though the Gators-Sooners national championship match-up. Along the way, Greenberg wondered about the national rankings for Journalism Schools, saying he'd look it up later.

I looked it up and and found that most people in the know consider Northwestern, Missouri and Columbia the three top J-Schools in the country. After that, it depends on who you talk to. University of Florida is on some lists (with all do respect). Syracuse, USC, Texas, Arizona State, Ohio State, and UC-Berkeley all appear regularly. Columbia will not be in a BCS game anytime soon. So Greenberg may be right about the Alamo Bowl. Oklahoma-Florida may be the BCS championship game, but it will not decide the fate of journalism in the 21st century.

I bring this up because I was an English major at UF and came within a couple credits of minoring in journalism. During my final two semesters (1976), I worked as a reporter for the Independent Florida Alligator, which is one of the best college newspapers in the U.S. (you can look it up). I also worked for UF Information Services, writing press releases and taking photos of jocks for game-day football programs.

I wonder how the UF English Dept. stacks up against Oklahoma's? How do you compare the two? Number of graduates? Graduates who went on to be famous? How many of them know the proper spelling of "due" as in "with all due respect?" What about college creative writing programs, especially the graduate M.F.A. programs? Iowa gets the nod there. The Hawkeyes play South Carolina in the Outback Bowl On New Year's Day. Wonder how many poets play linebacker for Iowa? Wonder how those corn-fed Iowa novelists would match up against the Gamecocks' brooding Southern memoirists?

Other M.F.A. writing programs of note are Stanford, which breeds some pretty good football players; Syracuse (ditto); Brown, where lacrosse is preferred over football; Arizona and Arizona State, both having off-years on the gridiron; Texas (got screwed by the BCS computer); Columbia, which hasn't fielded a real football team since Kerouac's era; and Florida State, which boasts scores of great creative writing faculty but still can't find a way to beat the Gators on the football field. FSU plays Wisconsin in the Champs Sports Bowl on Dec. 27. Pound for pound, I think the gritty short-story writers from FSU can lick the post-modernist weenies from Madison. Wanna bet?

Hero worship at the DTC Hyatt

Wow! I just met Roosevelt Grier in the lobby of the Hyatt Place Hotel. He's walking with a cane these days and is a bit more gray, but it's him all right. A great man. Marched with Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., active in the Civil Rights struggles from the 1960s onward. And a pretty good football player, too.

Here's some background on "Rosey" Grier from Wikipedia:

As a professional football player, Grier was a member of the original Fearsome Foursome of the Los Angeles Rams and played in the Pro Bowl twice.

After Grier's professional sports career he worked as a bodyguard for Robert Kennedy during the 1968 presidential campaign and was guarding the senator's wife during the Robert F. Kennedy assassination. Although unable to prevent that killing, Grier took control of the gun and subdued the shooter, Sirhan Sirhan.

Grier's other activities have been colorful and varied. He hosted his own Los Angeles television show and made approximately 70 guest appearances on various shows during the 1960s and 1970s. Grier is known for his serious pursuit of nontraditional hobbies such as macrame and needlepoint. He has authored several books, including Rosey Grier's Needlepoint for Men in 1973. Grier became an ordained Christian minister in 1983 and travels as an inspirational speaker. He founded American Neighborhood Enterprises, a nonprofit organization that serves inner city youth.

Tale of one city, two citizens

I only caught the tail end of the Spike Lee and Soledad O’Brien special, "Children of the Storm." It looked good, but it came on here at 5 p.m. I wasn’t even off of work. That's what happens when you're living on Mountain Daylight Time.

I did see CNBC’s special on the post-Katrina hurricane recovery in New Orleans, "Against the Tide: The Battle for New Orleans." The most amazing segment came at the end. It was the tale of two corporate titans. One, a V.P. for Shell Oil who refused to let his company abandon New Orleans and its 1,000 employees. Frank Glaviano grew up in the Ninth Ward and came back to his native city after traveling the world for Shell. He thought of his employees first, rebuilding the offshore oil platforms and corporate HQ, second. Shell sponsored Habitat for Humanity homes and several big New Orleans events that helped spur a return to semi-normalcy.

And then there’s Mr. Benson, the owner of the New Orleans Saints, one of those fat-cat owners who’s trying to blackmail the taxpayers into building him a new stadium. After the Superdome was destroyed, he couldn’t wait to get the Saints to San Antonio. He had to be coaxed back to New Orleans by city and state officials who sunk almost $200 million into the Superdome. You know the story of the Saints last season. They came within one game of going to the Super Bowl. Their success jazzed up the citizenry. Probably won’t happen this year. And because big corporate sponsors have probably fled N.O. for good, and a new stadium with luxury skyboxes for the fat cats will never be built, the Saints will be gone by 2011, or shortly thereafter.

It’s just business, as the mobsters said so often in "The Godfather." But where’s the Saints’ owner’s dedication to the people of the city? It’s a hell of a deal when an oil company shows the rest of us what it means to be a good citizen.

Toenail clippings for Gator fans

I love good satire. Patrick Irving’s Aug. 22 column in Sports Illustrated, "Gator Giving: Donation ideas for Florida’s not-so-wealthy alums," was funny and it poked fun at my alma mater. I’m one of those not-so-wealthy University of Florida alums (class of ‘76) who likes football. UF now has a program to capture big-money donations from the hedge fund operators and high-tech CEOs who were my classmates. But what about the rest of us in "Gator Nation?"

Here’s an excerpt:

The University of Florida's new "Gateway of Champions" fundraising campaign offers Gator boosters unprecedented opportunities to both support and enjoy the school's powerhouse football program. For a mere $5 million you can join the team for breakfast and ride the bus with them to a game ("The Ultimate Gator Experience"). Too rich for your blood? A lousy $1 million gets you a seat at the dinner table with Coach Urban Meyer and his family ("An Evening with the Meyers").

If you're too cheap for those options, but still want to show your Gator Pride, don't worry. There are more modestly priced alternatives with which you may feel more comfortable. A sampling:

$25,000: The Very Nice Gator Experience
Slap all the Gators high-five as they come off the bus; Clip QB Tim Tebow's toenails; Drink all the Gatorade you can handle.
$10,000: An Evening with the Meyers' Next Door Neighbor
Sit on the patio and gawk at Coach Meyer and his family until dusk (please avoid direct eye contact).

Irving finally works his way down to my level:

$100: The Painful Gator Experience
Assistant Coach Charlie Strong supervises you and one hundred other Gator fans as you complete 2,000 squat thrusts in the parking lot of a Home Depot (No Gatorade provided).
$95: T-Shirt
100% cotton with bold screen printing.
Available in M, L, XL and XXL. Made in Honduras.
$18.75: An Evening with QB Tim Tebow's Toenail Clippings
You will receive a small baggie via Fed-Ex. Enjoy!

Read the entire list at

http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/2007/sioncampus/08/22/gator.donor/. Send in your contribution today! Or better yet, donate to one of the best campus newspapers in the country, The Independent Florida Alligator. Or the UF English Dept

.

Football party open to "Asses and Elephants"

I saw this announcement for a "Fremont County Dems Social with Gary Trauner" in the events section of the Wyoming Democratic Party web site:

COME ENJOY FOOD, FUN, AND FOOTBALL WITH GARY TRAUNER AND THE FREMONT COUNTY DEMOCRATS!
Sunday, August 26 beginning at 4 p.m. at 15 Pebbles Lane (outside Lander--directions below). We will spend time mingling with friends, enjoying refreshments, and rooting for our favorite Pennsylvania football team. The Philadelphia vs. Pittsburgh game starts at 6 p.m. Refreshments will be provided, but feel free to bring a dish and your beverage of choice.
ALL ARE WELCOME!
ASSES AND ELEPHANTS ALIKE!
FOOTBALL KNOWLEDGE IS NOT A PRE-REQUISITE.

Walk-ins are welcome, but it would be nice to RSVP so we have an idea on how many to plan for. Please contact Maggie Moran at 307-349-3254 or maggiekatharyn@yahoo.com if you have questions or plan on attending.

We'll see you there! Please pass this along to other interested parties as well.

Directions: From Lander--go south toward South Pass City. Turn left on Lyons Valley Road 1 mile down the road turn left on Pebbles Lane, 1st house on the left (wood siding with a green roof). Look for the Eagles banner!

This sounds like fun. Gives me an idea on ways to beef up the attendance to our Laramie County Democrats' meetings. I also like pro football. And parties.

But I do have some concerns. Is it wise to bring Mr. Trauner, who has been accused of being an "east coast elitist," to a party feting football teams of the East? There have always been rumors of an underground assemblage of Pennsylvanians in Fremont County, but never knew there were enough to host a football party between the Eagles and Steelers. The Steelers have the rep of being a working man's NFL team. Pittsburgh is more a "City of Big Shoulders" than Chicago is. It's not the same smoggy steel-making place that gave the football team its name. But it's tougher than Philadelphia, the City of Brotherly Love.

I'm also a bit alarmed by the term "football knowledge is not a prerequisite." I'm a whiny liberal panty-waist, but I know my football. It helped that I was a jock and, later, a sports writer. But knowing football was a matter of pride where I grew up. You just didn't show up at a football party if you were pigskin-illiterate.

Finally, there's the fact that the Fremont County Dems are mixing it up with the elephants, which I assume are Republicans. I suppose a football game between two Pennsylvania teams makes for a middle ground on which enemy camps can meet. Perhaps Wyoming Asses and Elephants can find a common enemy in the Pennsylvanians, and root for a major storm to cancel the game, or for both teams to knock the snot out of each other, thus making them sitting ducks for more righteous teams, such as the Denver Broncos and Miami Dolphins.

Fremont Countians -- please let me know how this turns out.