Thunderbolt

Last weekend my friend, Brett, turned 43. I've known him since high school, where we began our association with each other as enemies. I can't tell you why we didn't like each other. I was the band director's kid, so maybe that had something to do with it. I recall an incident with an Eagles LP, which could've been the source of my anger. It was the hastily compiled "Greatest Hits, Vol. 2" which I received from the Columbia Record Club. In other words, cheap vinyl that I got for a penny. Hardly a reason to get pissed at a guy. Then again, I was 14/15 at the time, so I wasn't very logical. The strange thing about the animosity between the two of us was that we had the same mutual friends: Alex, Tom, John, Phil, Sally, Kathy and Kerry. We all hung out together. At some point Brett and I buried the hatchet (probably over a couple of North Olmsted Coolers, a primitive version of a Shandy) and became good buddies. During my high school senior year emotiona...

This weekend my brother and I took down an old pine growing in my backyard. The tree had grown so big that it was pressing against the wall separating our yard with my neighbor's. The task was, at times, a little nerve racking, as we worked around power lines in both yards and we had to avoid getting crushed by thick falling tree limbs. After a long day of sawing (marked by a brief excursion to buy a treadmill), the tree was gone and we all ate a hearty Mexican dinner cooked by Julie and my sister-in-law. Working with us were my two nephews, who seemed to get a kick out of cutting wood and using a hand saw. Watching them, coupled with the sound of cracking branches and the smell of dead pine, conjured memories of my youth. The old Malchus house had a huge backyard full of trees. I can remember many autumn days standing under a ladder while my father climbed up and clipped off branches for kindling. Those were long, boring afternoon and I shivered quite a bit, pounding my feet on th...

It's cold out this morning. Coooooold. I know that my east coast friends will tell me, "Malchus, you don't know cold, you thin skinned west coast baby!" But I'll tell you, a) I DO know cold, thank you very much, and b) it was frickin' ice cold when I rode my bike to the train station. Literally. I was riding across ice patches. Alright, I'll stop my moaning. But I do feel new aches when I climb on my Specialized Crossroads 18 speeder each day. Is it age? Seems like I've had the same pains in my hips, knees and shoulders for months now. I recall the days when I could shake 'em off and plow through my waking hours. Not so much anymore. It makes me wonder if my parents experienced the same thing in their 40s. I was in my teens, my formative years, when Mom & Dad lived through their 40s. I don't remember them having any issues. Maybe I was too self absorbed to notice, or maybe they just hid it well so as not to worry their kids. I bet it was a ...