Rock Lobsters and Wrist Bands

While trying to gather my thoughts of this series of entries, I suddenly realized that this week may be more difficult that I thought. When trying to come up with an appreciation for someone I respect and admire, I fear the words may sound corny or heavy handed. Besides Julie, I feel there is no other person who knows me as well as Steve. He has taught me to be a better man and a better friend. He is closer than a friend, though. He is my brother in every sense except blood. And while nit may prove difficult to come up with individual wild stories or moments, that doesn’t matter. Just as I feel that Julie is my soul mate, I feel the same way about Steve, in the sense that our lives were destined to intertwined. I trust him above most anyone I know and for his friendship, love and brotherhood I am forever grateful

So let’s go back to the beginning. It was a hot, Spring day in North Olmsted and I was on my way home from Forest Elementary school. Winter must have just ended because I was still donning my thick, down jacket. See, my mom stored everything in the attic and for some reason the spring clothes never made their way out until it was June, at which point, shorts were required. That’s another story, though. On this day, I was walking alone, sweating, miserable. Then, from behind me, I heard footsteps and some low humming. Singing, actually. I was reluctant to look back, but as the voices grew closer, I turned to look. It was this kid, Dave Gedwell, a guy I knew from Cub Scouts. My lasting memory of Gedwell was a question he asked when we got a tour of the local McDonalds. “How do you make those wonderfully delicious French fries?” What kid asks a question like that? Later, after he’d gone to another school throughout middle school, he attended NOHS for his senior year. He’d transformed into a Larry Mullen-esque modern rock drummer. Quite good, too. I digress.

With Gedwell was a tall kid I didn’t recognize. They were jogging home, singing one verse of “Rock Lobster” by the B-52’s. “We were at the beach/Everyone had matching towels/ Someone went under a rock/And there the saw a rock/ But it wasn’t a rock/ It was a rock Lobster.” I’d never heard this song before. I was still listening to Sha Na Na. I thought it was a joke. But these guys seemed to be having a fun time. No introductions were made. I jus started jogging along with them, singing along, despite bit knowing the words. We jogged together until we reached the black path, this lonely stretch of a bike path that was more of an after thought than a reasonably planned route to cut through two neighborhoods. The blacktop was always in shoddy shape and the weeds along the path were always overgrown. I spent many a night wander home from Steve’s through that dark, mysterious path.

As they ran off, I thought, who was that guy?

That summer I met him again. He and I were on the same soccer team. We had a mutual; friend in a kid named Pat Lopriore. Pa was a tough kid who lived about halfway between my house and Steve’s. He and I had been friends since first grade. Pat knew Steve. So when we all ended up on the same soccer team, I was kind of cool by association. Ironically, it would be because of Pat that I would become a better friend with Steve. In 5th grade, I was placed in an advanced studies program at my school. Basically, kids with better grade scores were sequestered into their own classroom and taught more "difficult" lessons. There was a stigma being in the ASP class. These smart kids were called the ASS kids. Original, huh? Even thought Matt was in the class, I joined in with the groupthink that those smart kids were jerks. Of course, you know, the next year I was placed in that class as a 5th grader. Someone else in that class was Steve. I soon learned that this guy Steve was one cool guy. One of the cool things he did was wear wrist bands to school every day. It was so cool that I decided to come up with my own “thing”. So I wore a gray sweatshirt each and every day until it got up and walked away. Hideous. The thing was hideous.

Anyway, Back to Lopriore. In 5th grade I carried this air about me. I wasn’t one of those ASP kids. I was still one of the pod kids, even though I was being made to be in that class. This attitude worked until Lopriore and I got in a fight. Now Pat was the most popular kid in school. And who was I? Nobody. We got in this fight, half the kids in the “cool” clique gathered around and cheered on Pat, and after I walked away, I became a bit of a joke to those kids I had called my friends. Besides Matt, I didn’t have anyone I called my friend. And that was the turning point, I like to believe, that my friendship with Steve began. While Steve could have easily sided with the popular kid, he was already mature enough to be above that petty shit. Either that or he took pity on the kid with the ginormous glasses and poofy hair.

As I watch Sophie grow up and express so much empathy for her friends (and particularly her brother) I tend to think that kids really are capable of being noble. Was Steve being noble that day? I don’t know. But to this day, I am so glad that I got my ass kicked by Pat Lopriore. Not because it filled me with the sense of worry and neediness for being loved that I live with to this day, but that I was able to become friends with the blonde haired kid wearing the wrist bands.

We had met because of a B-52’s song. To this day, that stupid damn song still holds an important place in my heart. It would be a couple of years before we started to become close friends but the foundation was laid.

100th Post!

Welcome to the hundreth post! I'd like to thank my wife, Julie, my two wonderful kids, Sophie and Jacob, my parents and my siblings. All of my extended family. And of course, all of you for stopping by every once and a while.

Hello? Hello? Is anyone there? (crickets)

Heh. So, uh, well....

I was fianlly initiated into that special parents club today. The "my kid puked while we were waiting in line at the drug store" club. Poor Jake. He's been fighting whatever virus he's had for over a week. Today, he just couldn't take any more. The saddest thing was that he hadn't eaten anything in almost 12 hours and all he threw up was bile. I wish we could nip this thing in the butt... NOW! Luckliy, he took a long nap and woke up feeling much better. Some of his miraculous recovery had to do with the Motrin he got, I'm sure. He seems to be doing better. Keeping my finger crossed that he'll be okay for school tomorrow.

The house is as clean as it's going to get. I have to do bills now and then drink a couple beers as a result of doing the bills.

We set up the pool this afternoon. I'll admit I was a real crank about the whole thing, but now that it's up and filling with water, I'm pretty damn excited. So, if any of you happen to be in the neighborhood, let me know and I'll have the pool heated for you. Of course, that will require me acting like God as I do not control the weather. In other words, anyone planning on visiting should come by on a sunny day.

In honor of Steve's visit this week, I thought I'd share some of my stories about the two of us. Last year I wrote a whole series about Matt as the anniversary of his death came up. Well, why do we have to wait for someone to die in order to appreciate them. Thus, starting tomorrow, you'll get five days of tales about Steve and Scott. Try to contain yourself, please.

Turned out to be a nice weekend.

Aloha

Hey, it's Cinco de Mayo!

I... don't really have anything to say about Cinco de Mayo. It just sounded like a cool header.

Saturdays are the mos difficult day to make entries to the blog. Usually I'm out on the yard, as I was today. Man, it was a long day. My friend, Steve, is coming to town on Friday and I wanted the yard to look well managed for him. Not that he'd care. In fact, if there is one person I think would not give a rat's ass, it is Steve. The two of us have been friends so long, we're brothers. Besides Julie, no one knows me better than Steve, which is saying a lot considering that he lives on the other side of the country. I'm pretty stoked about his visit. Giddy like a little school boy! Weeeeeeee!

Enough of that, Malchus.

Also making the day longer is Jake's continued fight with his cold or, as Julie believes it may be, a sinus infection. The poor kid's nose is running non stop and his head hasn't stopped hurting for over a week. Yes, he's already been to see a doctor. He's on an antibiotic right now. I believe that puts him up to 12 meds daily, right now. It's hard to keep track.

How the hell can I name all of the frickin' members of Yes, past and present, but I can't name you all of his meds. What was that old SNL routine with Belushi and Laraine Newman... "You're blocking!"

I resolve to memorize all of the names of his meds by tomorrow. I should know this, damn it! I'm disappointed with myself and right now shaking me head. Part of me, knowing that there are more than 10 people actually looking at this blog, wants to delete that previous paragraph. Forget it.

I'm no saint. I'm just trying to do my best.

I have to do better. I can slack off when it comes to myself. But come on, dude... this is your son.

Aloha

Basement Songs "Distant Sun" by Crowded House

The music of Crowded House has hovered over my personal space since they flew into the world’s orbit back in the 80’s. It began during my first year at Bowling Green when my friend, Bob, made sure that I won a drawing at Finders, the record store he worked at in town. The prize was the soundtrack to “Tequila Sunrise”, Robert Towne’s underappreciated movie from that era. I was plenty excited to have my own copy of the epic power ballad, sung by Ann Wilson and Robin Zander, that plays over the end credits. After about two listens, I grew tired of the big drums and discovered another track on the LP, an obscure Crowded House song, “Recurring Dream”. I was hooked. A couple of years later, I spent the summer in L.A., just as their album “Woodface” was released. The second song, “It’s Only Natural”, became an instant favorite and showed up on one of the first mix tapes I made for Julie. The mysterious, chiming qualities of “Recurring Dream” are what first drew me in to the music, and the intricate vocal harmonies and brilliant word play of “It’s Only Natural” made me a big fan. In 1994, Crowded House released what would be their last studio album in over a decade, “Together Alone”. That year was one of the most pivotal times of my life. Recently married, a big move west, starting a career, and still trying to figure out the meaning of life, it was an exciting, emotional time, full of happiness and doubt. Thankfully, I wasn’t alone. Julie was by my side. We were figuring it out together. That year, Crowded House released their single, “Distant Sun”, one of the most brilliant, poignant, tormented love songs I have ever heard. Neil Finn’s lyrics are, at times, a bit obtuse, so I’m not a hundred percent sure it’s even love song. But what I take away from it is a feeling of hope. “Distant Sun” is embedded in my soul. Each and every time I come back to it, I fall in love with the song again, making it one of my favorite basement songs.

More than any other song from that period, “Distant Sun” speaks volumes about my time uncovering and slowly realizing who I was as an adult, a professional, and most importantly, a husband. When Julie and I moved to California in ‘94, we were just two kids in our early 20’s. I was following my dream and Julie, bless her heart, just wanted to be with me. When I really dwell on this fact, it is humbling to think that another human being was willing to change her life just to be with me. You have to understand the remarkable sacrifice she made to move out here. She left her family, her safety net, and everything she knew, to embark on a journey with me, some schmo with bad clothes, awkward hair, and ugly glasses. I’m not going to pretend it was easy. Julie HATED being here. Yet, she never said, “It’s time to go back.” To this day, she has never said, “You’ve given it a shot; time to move on.” I’ve said many times that Julie is my rock. She is the foundation to which our family finds its strength. And the groundwork for our family was laid down in those years in the mid-90’s. “Distant Sun” is one of the essential songs to the “soundtrack of our life” (I know, kind of corny).

The music itself is so lovely. I’m a sucker for the acoustic guitar, electric combo. The song begins with just Finn strumming his six string acoustic, before the rest of the band joins him. Mark Hart playing a wrenching 12 string, Nick Seymour’s understated bass playing, and the late Paul Hester’s great drumming and perfect harmonies. It’s glorious. I swear, the first few times I ever heard the song, I had to literally stop what I was doing to listen to every note, take in each word I could follow, and try to keep from tearing up. This being Los Angeles, the stop and go traffic was quite accommodating. There were days when I would sit in my car on the freeway and get to hear the song in its entirety before moving up 10 feet. Lucky me. Of all of the elements to this song, it is the bridge that fills me up with emotion. And it is the twelve words ending that bridge (leading into the guitar solo) that have made this song such a favorite.

12 words. That’s it. Each time I reach them, those same twelve words tear me in half. They come at you from out of nowhere. What was already one of the prettiest songs written becomes something new. Finn cries out, in torment, in desperation, with all of his heart, “I don’t pretend to know what you want, but I offer love.”

Ponder those words a moment. Has any phrase ever spoken so plainly explained what marriage is supposed to be? There have been many instances when I didn’t have an answer, I couldn’t fix what was hurting Julie. And believe me, I used to be one of those people who had to fix everything. But the words I had were pointless. The writer in me didn’t know what to say. The only thing I had to offer was love.

Through the tears, confusion, heartache, betrayals and anger, we learned how to act. And in 1994, we had only known each other a couple of years. We were figuring out together who Scott and Julie were. So many times, we had to go with our instincts. “I love you and nothing will change that.” And then we hugged, or cried, or made love. We connected.

“I don’t pretend to know what you want, but I offer love.”

Each time I hear Finn sing that, I can’t help but clench my fist, imagining I’m the singer, Julie is my audience, and I’m declaring with everything in me that nothing will change how much I love her and that she is the center of my universe. I look at this woman and I marvel. “Damn. I can’t imagine my life without you.”

To paraphrase the song, seven worlds collide whenever she is by my side. Our love has been a mighty force since the first time we kissed. We’ve been through so much together. I know that there is so much more to come. As I said, “Distant Sun” is embedded in my soul. Damn you, Crowded House; and bless you for this basement song I hold so dear to me. It will be with me forever, just as my love for Julie will go on forever.

I'd like to know

I'd like to know when I'll be able to look at a flyer for the CF Foundation with my son's picture on it and I won't have to sneak away and cry.

The Price of Admission

The other day I was thinking about the new Police tour and the cost of admission to a high profile concert like that one. For an ordinary, middle class Joe like myself to get in to a show like that, I have to shell out about $100 per ticket, and that's not even one of the better seats in the house (especially a stadium venue). The really fortunate few who can afford seats close up (or are fanatics and/or stupid enough to spend that kind of cash) end up spending somewhere between $500 and $1000 a seat! Now, I realize that artists like Sting and Bruce and Peter Gabriel are charitable people and they donate unknown sums of money to worthy causes. But suppose an act like the Police were to take $1 from each ticket and donated it to a charity after each show.

One dollar.

A show like Dodgers Stadium, which is sold out, would generate (at least) sixty grand in one night. 60 GRAND! And that's being a little conservative. Imagine if they donated just $2. That would be $120,000 in a mere 2 hours. Multiply that by 60 or 70 dates and the numbers start to boggle the mind.

I am no numbers man. While I realize that the inflated price of tickets has many costs factored in, why can't the artists, especially big acts who have billions of dollars, take this small fraction and do some good with it. To me, it's a no brainer.

Perhaps I'm being naive. In fact, I'm sure I'm being naive. Like I said, I have no concept of the marketplace. In fact, I don't even know what the marketplace is. But I know that there are people out there who want to help. They want to make this world a better place. But so many of us can't afford to do that. Money's too tight, friends.

Maybe I'll start selling copies of "King's Highway" bootlegs over the internet and take a big cut out of each DVD sale to give to the CFF. At least I'll feel like I'm contributing.

Aloha

May is CF Awareness month and a surprising pledge

To kick off CF Awareness month, I'm making a pledge to make an entry a day for the entire month. This isn’t a big pledge, though in the past I have always had trouble writing once a day. Not this time! You can hold me to it.

I received quite a surprise this morning when a woman I haven't spoken to in some 20 years (she was a high school girl back then) wrote me a lovely email and donated to the Great Strides walk. Thank you Sara! She and I went to a homecoming dance and to her prom back in the 80's. The prom was memorable if only because it was at the height of Prince mania and the guy who drove us to the dance was a Prince fanatic. That night we went to Pennsylvania (it was Pennsylvania, wasn't it? It's very fuzzy). During the drive we listened to a Marillion album. Marillion? What's that all about?

I have to admit that I wasn't the most mature date back then. I believe you would call me... hmmm, what's that word, an ass. At least, that's the way I remember it. Still, Sara and I remained friends until I went to college and we lost touch.

Let me spell this out for the 10 or so of you who still read Thunderbolt. This woman has not seen or spoken to me in 20 years. She only knows about me through the blog. I could be an axe murderer (I'm not, Sara, really). And she still DONATES! That, my dear friends, is generosity. That is human kindness. And that is what I am asking all of you to do. Please click on the link and donate.

I promise not to preach all month. But since this is May 1, I have a right to preach. It’s my son’s life we’re talking about.


Aloha

Basement Songs- "Father & Daughter" by Paul Simon

I worry about Sophie. My concerns run deep ranging from how does her brother’s disease affect her to is she receiving enough attention? The greatest fear I have for my daughter is that she somehow feels a lack of love on my part. I can tell her “I love you” until I’m blue in the face, but unless my actions show it, these are just words. Because of these fears, I try to set aside time and activities for just the two of us. I’m excited because today she is coming to spend the whole day at work with me, part of a “bring your child to work” thing the studio is having. Something else we love to do is watching baseball games. We have as been to several Dodgers games in the past couple of years. Sophie really tries to follow the game, asking questions about the players and how baseball is played. It’s not all about hot dogs and cotton candy. Sophie is a remarkable, smart, talented little girl who is growing up to quickly. I love her dearly and she is the reason Paul Simon’s “Father & Daughter” is on of my favorite basemen songs.

On of the joys of parenting is pushing your favorite music on to your children. When Sophie was baby, barely speaking, she sang along to “Someday, Someway” by Marshall Crenshaw, and created her own lyrics to The Buggles “Video Killed the Radio Star”. She doesn’t recall those songs anymore. When I play them for her now, she jus looks at me funny. Later, just before Jake was born, she had a favorite Ryan Adams song and always requested several Andrew Bird tracks from hi excellent “The Swimming Hour” cd. And then there’s the Boss. As much as I worship at the altar of Springsteen, Sophie has been converted into a proud disciple, to, thanks to me. How many 8- year olds know the lyrics to “10th Avenue Freeze Out”? Even I have trouble remembering all of the words. Hell, even Springsteen does, too. I’ll never forget the last show I went to in 2002. The day of the show, he family was listening to a compilation I’d made for Sophie and “Darlington County” begins plying. Sophie shouted out “Daddy, do you think Bruce will ply this one tonight?” Knowing full well that Bruce made up set lists the day of the show, and that he hadn’t played that song much on the tour, I smiled and replied, “You never know.” I had a pretty good feeling I wouldn’t be hearing “Darlington County” that night. “I hope he does!” She said, before singing along with the chorus.

That night, as you might expect, Bruce and the band DID play “Darlington County”. Can you believe that? When Bruce and the E. Street Band next tour, I plan to take Sophie to the concert. She ought to be 9 or 10 and I hope it will be a lasting memory. Of course, as Sophie was quick to point out to me when I told her of this plan, “It will depend if it’s a school night, Dad.” The girl, God bless her, really loves school. Still, with al of the music we share, it is still a schmaltzy, African rhythmed folk song by Paul Simon that best sums of how I feel about her.

“Father and Daughter” was originally released on “The Wild Thornberrys Movie” soundtrack. At the time the movie came out, I was still working for Klasky Csupo, the company that produced “The Wild Thornberrys” film and TV series. Because I worked in the cartoon business, this form of entertainment was an early bonding method with my daughter. She liked “Rugrats”, “Hey Arnold” and, yes, “The Wild Thornberrys”. So, when the film came out, she was pretty excited to see it. It was released about a year after Jake was born and my worries about Sophie were beginning. It’s not that she expressed anything that would indicate she wasn’t feeling loved, but I was still worrying about it. Halfway through the movie, the song begins to play as the character “Eliza” is sent away from her family for the first time. Just watching the Eliza leave her family and the sadness that was felt by every character made me reflect on the precious time I have with Sophie. It feels like just yesterday that I was dropping her off at daycare for her first day. Now, she’s nearly done with 2nd Grade and excelling at school and swimming. Where has the time gone?

Simon had already written on children’s classic, “St. Judy’s Comet”, for his son back in the 70’s. This new song was written specifically for his young daughter. It’s the perfect companion to the early treasure. Like so many of the songs I gravitated to when I began training for my marathons, “Father & Daughter” was relegated to my cheap little MP3 player and it will never be deleted. Sure, I have he Springsteen songs and others the whole family shares, but the simplicity and directness of Simon’s lyrics hit home with me.

“I'm gonna watch you shine
Gonna watch you grow
Gonna paint a sign
So you'll always know
As long as one and one is two
There could never be a father who loved his daughter more than I love you”

I am so proud of Sophie. Her caring and generosity, plus her enormous heart so full of love and empathy make her a very special daughter. They also make her a very special human being, one that we all can draw inspiration from. With so much craziness in our lives, and so many heavy issues to deal with, Sophie handles them with grace, panache, and most of the time, with a smile on her face. As she gets older, I’m sure she’ll have her own music to turn to for comfort and guidance. However, I hope that this basement song by Paul Simon somehow makes it into her own collection of music.

Our 2007 Great Strides Letter

Each year, I post the Great Strides fund-raiser letter Julie and I write. If you're reading this now, please, please, please click on the link and make a donation to the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation. Aloha

Dear friends and families,

It’s hard to believe that this will be our sixth year participating in the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation’s Great Strides Walk. It seems like only yesterday that we began reaching out to all of you as we began our battle against cystic fibrosis (CF). In 2002, Jacob was just a few months old as Julie carried him in the front pack on our first Great Strides Walk. Now, as an active 5 year old, Jacob will zip alongside big sister, Sophie, on his scooter at this year’s Great Strides on June 2 in Valencia, CA.

This has been an exciting year for Jacob. He began preschool, which he loves, in particularly because he’s at the same school as Sophie. In class, Jacob has been a brave boy, handling the questions and curious looks of his classmates when he takes his enzymes at snack time. Early on in the year, Jacob stood in front of the class and, with the help of his teacher, told them he has CF and why he has to take enzymes. We all know that he must take enzymes before each meal or snack so that his body can absorb the nutrients and fat from the food. Jacob explained that he takes them so he doesn’t get a stomachache. Standing alone in front of his friends at a young age not only showed real courage, but it also told his friends that CF doesn’t mean he should be treated differently. To top that off, Jake brought in his Vest (the vibrating machine that shakes lose thick mucus in his lungs) for a recent show and tell. He has also recently taught himself how to swallow pills. This is a huge deal for him since some of the liquid medication taste pretty bad.

CF affects everyone in the family. As parents, the daily routine of 13 different medications can sometimes get overwhelming. We are blessed that Sophie, 8, is such a caring and observant big sister. Sophie loves her little brother so dearly that she keeps us on our toes, at times reminding us when he needs enzymes or if we overlooked one of his other medications. Sophie recently saw an empty box from one of Jacob’s medication on the counter. Sophie asked Julie in a worried voice if Jacob was out of Pulmozyme. We were blown away that Sophie was not only keeping track of his medication supply but actually knew the name of the medicine. These two have such a special bond. As Sophie matures, the day will come when she has questions about CF. As some point she’ll probably come across statistics and the facts about the disease.

When that day does come, we will tell her that yes, those statistics are true. But there is hope. Since the year Jacob was born, the median age has risen from 32 to almost 37 years of age! And ever since the CF gene was discovered in the late 1980’s, scientists he been developing new, more powerful medications and treatments. As a result, people with cystic fibrosis are living longer, healthier lives.

What this means is that all of this fundraising is working! We are making a difference! But I’m sure we will all agree it is still not good enough. It will not be good enough until CF stands for CURE FOUND.

On June 2nd, we will once again be walking in the Great Strides walk. We are reaching out to you for your support by asking you for a donation to the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation. There two ways you can make a tax deductible donation:
Write a check to the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation and send it to this address:

The Malchus’
22331 Los Tigres Dr.
Saugus, CA 91350

Or, you can donate online using a credit card by logging on to:

www.cff.org/Great_Strides/JacobMalchus

Together we are making a difference; and together we will find a cure for cystic fibrosis.

From the bottoms of our hearts, we thank you for you kindness and generosity.

All the best,
Scott & Julie Malchus

Basement Songs: "Everyday" by The Dave Matthews Band

In December of 2001, Jacob was diagnosed with cystic fibrosis. To this day I can remember sitting in my cubicle at work and trying to comprehend exactly what this news meant. As Julie talked through tears, she began explaining that Jake would begin a life of medicines and breathing treatments. To this day, I regret that I wasn’t there with her when the doctor gave the news. I guess we both believed that he was fine. This kind of thing just doesn’t happen to us. Right. I eventually joined her at home that afternoon and we walked around the house, numb, taking phone calls from friends, calling others and trying to keep from crying. At first, with all of the information you gather on the Internet and from what the doctors tell you, it feels like they’ve just handed you child a death sentence. The next few weeks, as we began giving his medicines and doing his treatments, the two of us were zombies. Each year in December, we’re both kind of in a state. While we should be celebrating the Christmas holidays, there is this other anniversary that is always looming.

As you all recall the winter of 2001 was one of great sorrow and fear. Still recovering from the 9/11 attacks, people were looking for hope that the world wasn’t going to fall apart. Around that time, the Dave Matthews Band released the title track from their album, “Everyday”, and it immediately began getting heavy rotation on MTV and VH1… that is, heavy rotation when those channels actually played music videos, which was usually around 12 or 1 in the morning. Just like I did with Sophie, I got restless when Jake was born and stayed up WAY too late most nights. I had a great deal on my mind, obviously. I hate to admit that I wasn’t as mature as I’d have liked to have been. I was worried about my feature movie and how Jake’s medicines and treatments would affect our livelihood. That’s something I don’t talk about much because I feel like it makes me shallow. When you’re kid’s life is at stake, you shouldn’t worry about the money, right? And you sure as hell shouldn’t be worrying about your damn film career. My head wasn’t on straight. I wish I could go back and shake the older Malchus and tell him to wake up. It took me almost 15 years to feel like I am a good husband. Luckily, it hasn’t taken me that long to feel like a good parent.

I bring up all of these feelings because during those late hours, Jake would usually wake up. And I would grab him and try to ease him back to sleep. And during those wee hours, as I bounced him around the living room, I’d generally switch between Sportscenter and VH1. Thus, I saw and heard “Everyday” many, many times during that winter. I am not a big Dave Matthews fan. I have a single cd of their hits, and that’s enough for me. But this one song is special to my heart. Walking around with Jake, our first intimate moments as father and son, were very special to me. Holding his tiny body in my hands, I’d stare at him, wondering how such a perfect little person could have something wrong inside of him. It didn’t make sense.

It still doesn’t.

Thankfully, I grew attached to that Dave Matthews song, which has simple, hopeful lyrics that pretty much repeat themselves.

Pick me up, oh, from the bottom
Up to the top, love, everyday
Pay no mind to taunts or advances
I take my chances on everyday

Left to right
Up and down, love
I push up love, love everyday
Jump in the mud, oh
Get your hands dirty with
Love it up on everyday

All you need is
All you want is
All you need is love.
All you need is
What you want is
All you need is love.

Everyday
Everyday
Oh, Everyday...

That’s it, folks. But that’s all I really needed back then to give me the hope I needed to keep facing another morning. About a year later, as I was approaching my first marathon, I had programmed this song into my cheap little Rio MP3 player. I can’t tell you how many mornings ˆ was out on the pavement, struggling to make it those extra hundred yards or so and “Everyday” word suddenly start playing through the headphones. Immediately, I thought of Jake. I thought of those cold, pitch black December nights. And I thought of the hope I had for him and why I was actually running the marathon.

Hope is a funny thing. It comes from the least expected places and generally shocks you out of a somnambulist state. This week, some unexpected friends gave me new hope for finding a cure to CF. I’d like to dedicate this week’s basement song to my pal, Jeff Giles, for organizing the Bloggers for Cure. If ever there was someone “pushing love”, as Matthews says, it’s this guy. Thank you, Jeff.

Aloha

Springsteen. Come on! The best line ever.

It's tough to declare which lines of his are the absolute best, but this morning, and for every morning for the rest of my life, I'm going to declare this to Julie (or at least until she tells me to shut the hell up already).

"Together we'll live with the sadness
I'll love you with all the madness in my soul
Someday girl I don't know when
we're gonna get to that place
Where we really want to go
and we'll walk in the sun"

Love you, Jules.

Aloha

Bloggers For A Cure

I don’t know where to begin with this one.

While on vacation in Tucson I received an email from my friend, Jeff Giles, who writes the excellent blog, jefitoblog.com. I have never met Jeff in person. We have a relationship based solely on writing and a shared love of music. A couple of years ago I responded to one of his posts about a Radney Foster song, “Godspeed (Sweet Dreams)”. It is a poignant, loving testament to fatherhood that I immediately related to. After a couple of emails, I wound up sending Jeff some Springsteen bootlegs and a friendship was born. The two of us have exchanged music regularly and last year I even wrote a guide to the albums of Journey. Jeff has been a big supporter of the blog and has regularly promoted the site. All this, mind you, through his own kindness.

Because he’s been a reader of “Thunderbolt”, he knows about our family and our struggles with cystic fibrosis. This year, he decided to pitch in on our efforts to raise money. Unbeknownst to me, Jeff went out and contacted many of his favorite bloggers and together, they have created a website, Bloggersforacure.com. Together, through their separate websites, they are linking donors to my CF Great Strides webpage. Additionally, many of these folks, most of whom I do not know, are offering some nifty prizes to the highest donors. It is quite a wonderful thing they are doing.

Like I said, I don’t know where to begin. To have strangers take up a cause in your name is so humbling. But there are no words to describe how touched we are in the Malchus family at having these people take up the cause because of Jake. You often hear about the kindness of strangers and the inherent goodness in people. My friends, this is a prime example of what “they” are always talking about. I wish… I WISH I could somehow express better the gratitude I have pouring out of my heart. Sadly, the best I can do is post links to their blogs in hopes that the 10 or so of you out there reading this little old blog will click on their sites and read what they’re doing.

As Julie and I begin our push to raise money for this year’s Great Strides, I can’t tell you how overwhelmed I am by the heartfelt gesture of Jeff and his buddies. Actually, I guess they’re my buddies, too, now.

Last week, Sophie and I began working on a family tree project for her class. One of the things she was researching was what our family motto is. Apparently, my mother’s side of the family, which hails partially from Scotland, actually does have a motto. But Soph and I didn’t know that at the time. So, I thought of the first thing that came to mind. “Don’t give up.”

“I like that, Dad”

Then I thought a moment longer and added one more word.

“Don’t give up hope.”

It’s because of good people like Jeff Giles that I have hope. Despite my sometimes sad entries about my personal struggles being a parent, I will never give up hope.

Thank you Jeff.

Aloha