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- Spending time with my wife during the day. We’ve taken a couple of walks and spent time watching things we might not have watched otherwise (Tiger King, I’m looking right at you).
- Cleaning up the basement and my home office to be better for all-day working and video meetings.
- Staying mostly away from the news because the rabbit hole of 24 hours of a shitshow would not do my brain any good.
- Watching all the new YouTube content pop up from a variety of sources. The mini-concerts are the best.
- Drinking more water all day
- Silly text messages from my friends that have now devolved into a fictional story about the Chupacabra King.
Happy Place
Some call it the happiest place on earth
My friend Grant has posted another fantastic Facebook post about losing his happy place, at least for a little while. I’ve reposted it here because I know not everyone wants to access Facebook and I think it deserves an audience outside of the walled garden.
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Here’s the thing about Disneyland, Disney World, and Disney parks all over the world —
You either get it, buy in to it, and have strong associations with it… or you don’t. You either love it… or you don’t. And it’s okay if you don’t. Missy, my dear wife, doesn’t at all. She dislikes the crowdedness, the bustle. She dislikes the sense of frenetic movement. Her relaxation place is a lot more… well, relaxing.
But I’ve seen Disney parks at many stages of my life, at many times, and with many people, and I *get it*. I love it. The memories I’ve made at these places are indelible. The feeling I get walking into Disneyland is like a life-shaped weight being lifted from my chest. I know that when I’m there, I’m going to have a great day.
And yes, we can talk endlessly about whether or not Disneyland is a constantly-overflowing cash register. (It is.) Or whether it’s designed to take advantage of your wants and desires in a somewhat insidious way. (It is.) And whether it is designed to prey on one’s nostalgia and carefree youthful days to wring dollars out of one’s wallet. (It *so* is.)
But let’s also say that that doesn’t matter. At least, to me.
The word has come down that the Disney parks are unlikely to reopen until 2021, or at very least as soon as a vaccine has been developed and rolled out. I suppose I knew that, on an analytical and rational level. But knowing that this place that’s been responsible for so many of my favorite memories won’t be open for guests for so long… it hurts. It gives me a lot less to look forward to each day when things are tough and every day feels identical. I always knew that when things were especially rough, I could always jump in my car, spend 5 hours driving, and find myself in the one place where responsibility didn’t exist. Knowing that that aspect of life is gone for the foreseeable future has removed a small measure of my hopefulness. And I know that that’s just silly, but again — I know that on an analytical, rational level. And emotions aren’t necessarily rational.
Anyway, I know that what we face as a society is a bazillion times more crucial than piddly little OMG CAN’T GET A DOLE WHIP lamentations. Further, I know that the sacrifices we’re all making now are necessary, and just, and right. I know all those things. At an analytical, rational level. It’s not worth breaking a quarantine to get this back if it puts even ONE life in the path of harm, and it would be undoubtedly much more devastating than that for both the patrons and the cast members. But I hope you can forgive me for lamenting the loss of a place that made me profoundly happy. Disney was a respite for me when times got difficult, and I hate not having that refuge in my back pocket as we move forward into the rest of an uncertain 2020.
I hope you can also find some commonality in the sense that the only thing keeping us moving forward as a society is faith in the return of Better Days, however that looks in your mind’s eye. Even if Disney isn’t your thing. And personally? I hope you can get a taste of your own Happy Place again, wherever that is, very soon.
Keep the faith and the hope.
Don’t Inject Disinfectant
At a press conference on Thursday, Trump pondered out loud in a sort of free associative way that bringing “light inside the body” and injecting or consuming disinfectant are ways to stop the coronavirus.
So supposing we hit the body with a tremendous — whether it’s ultraviolet or just a very powerful light — and I think you said that hasn’t been checked because of the testing. And then I said, supposing you brought the light inside the body, which you can do either through the skin or some other way, and I think you said you’re going to test that, too.
I see the disinfectant that knocks it out in a minute, one minute. And is there a way we can do something like that by injection inside or almost a cleaning? As you see, it gets in the lungs, it does a tremendous number on the lungs, so it would be interesting to check that.
As a friendly reminder, disinfectants are poisonous and will likely kill you if you inject them. It says so right on the bottles. As for the light idea, no one has any idea what he was talking about. He is the stupidest person ever to occupy the White House.
Reckitt Benckiser, the United Kingdom-based owner of Lysol, had to issue a statement about not administering disinfectants internally.
Due to recent speculation and social media activity, RB (the makers of Lysol and Dettol) has been asked whether internal administration of disinfectants may be appropriate for investigation or use as a treatment for coronavirus (SARS-CoV-2).
As a global leader in health and hygiene products, we must be clear that under no circumstance should our disinfectant products be administered into the human body (through injection, ingestion or any other route). As with all products, our disinfectant and hygiene products should only be used as intended and in line with usage guidelines. Please read the label and safety information.
We have a responsibility in providing consumers with access to accurate, up-to-date information as advised by leading public health experts. For this and other myth-busting facts, please visit Covid-19facts.com.
News media… please stop airing these press conferences live. He’s going to get people killed.
Happy Birthday, Rocco
This is an occasion where we might’ve had a party, found some appropriate treats, and baked a cake (for the humans). As it stands with this cursed pandemic, none of those things are happening. Still, I wanted to mark the day for posterity.
Rocco, our wonder-pup, has been an incredible member of the family. When he came to our newly-minted, happy home, he was just six-weeks-old and definitely a welcome addition. Today, he is completely entrenched in everyone’s lives.
I am the one who walks him 100% of the time. I take him out at about the same clip, but my step-daughter, who Rocco spends his nights with, does take him out during the wee hours of the morning when he whines loud enough and persistent enough to wake her. Since my step-daughter is about to go off to college, the walking and taking him out at 3 am will fall on my shoulders. Actually, I don’t mind.
Rocco barks when someone darkens our sidewalk. He’s at the window letting the whole household know someone who isn’t one of the four humans who feed and snuggle with him is nearby. I can’t imagine anyone trying to sneak into our house with Rocco on guard.
He also barks in a growly sort of way when chasing a Wiffle ball around the house. It’s a combination of Wicket the Ewok’s growl and a full-throated bark. It is endearing and annoying at the same time. I love it.
Belly rubs and ear scratches always make him happy. The few times he’s had to sleep with me, he’s found the warm crook of my knee and hunkered down for a night’s rest.
I can’t imagine my life now without him. In fact, one evening he was staying with someone else because we were leaving early in the morning and we didn’t want him to be home alone. I had to go outside and do our typical walk because it didn’t feel right not doing it. That sounds so odd, but it wasn’t at the time at all.
Our baby boy is two and he has brightened our days ever since he’s joined our family. What a blessing.
Worry
In 2013, my wife Maria was diagnosed with ankylosing spondylitis, which, if you don’t know, is a chronic inflammatory disease where the bones in the spine start to fuse. It is an autoimmune type of arthritis. People who have autoimmune disorders have an immune system that attacks healthy cells. Maria uses Enbrel to mitigate her symptoms and to fight back the ankylosing spondylitis. Without it, she would be in significant pain, have a hard time doing just about anything outside of the house, and basically not be able to lead a normal life.
Unfortunately, Enbrel generally weakens your immune system. It makes it harder to fight infections, and my wife can get sicker far easier. Our health insurance allows us to be able to afford such a medication. We are incredibly lucky.
Before the outbreak of the novel coronavirus, our lives were pretty ordinary. My wife self-administered her injections, and while they are not as simple as a Star Trek-style hypospray, they are pretty straightforward, albeit painful. She’d have a flare-up occasionally, but nothing too major. It was easy to forget the ankylosing spondylitis was even affecting her. It was, of course, but she doesn’t let it bother her. She does not complain.
Now we face Covid-19, which can cause flu-like symptoms and can lead to death in high-risk patients. The entire time Maria has used Enbrel, I worried it would start to not work as well. My worry now is her contracting Covid-19.
We have decided not to cancel a planned trip to Florida by commercial jet airliner. Plus, we are doing all the right things that seem about as practical as possible: hand-washing for 30 seconds, buying over-the-counter medications, gathering up the hand sanitizer and other supplies. Maria confessed she’s worried about the trip but is taking all the precautions. I’m worried but not showing it as best I can. I have the worry gene. She has the plan for every eventuality gene.
If she were to encounter someone with the novel coronavirus, I’m not sure what we would do. I want her to be as healthy as possible when stepping on the plane and dealing with the airport crowds. I worry about being exposed and unwittingly exposing her. The complications of a quarantine or hospital stay are terrifying. Everyone is fine now. If it changes, there’s not much I can do to protect her.
Being concerned about this potential pandemic is making me continuously turn down the panic knob. I’ve read people who are seriously worried and preparing for the end days and others not being concerned enough. I hope I’m somewhere in the middle.
It’s frustrating to me to hear people with influential voices downplay the risk. The federal government, news organizations, and others have caused the spread of the virus to worsen. When they dismiss the more than 700 people who have tested positive for the virus and the 26 people who have died, it makes me feel like my wife is not “worth the effort.” Nothing could be further from the truth.
The worry I have regarding my family is not unfounded. It should not be waved away. There are high-risk people everywhere. Doing the basics like hand-washing and staying home when you’re sick is important.
I recently went to a sold-out college basketball game and did not encounter one masked person. How soon before that changes? How soon before everything is canceled?
Covid-19 isn’t just the same as the flu. Besides, the flu does kill people. Sure, a relatively healthy person likely won’t die from exposure to Covid-19. Still, the reason all these events like South by Southwest and Boston’s St. Patrick’s Day parade are being canceled is that the organizers are trying to minimize the exposure across the board. It’s absolutely the people with the “underlying health condition” that are at risk.
Like my wife.
Marking Down the Moments
My family left for a Florida vacation on Friday, March 13. When we came back a few days later, the world turned upside down, and we were all working from home and self-isolating.
It’s not quite yet been a month, but everyone is finding some sort of new normal. None of us like it. All of us miss our friends, co-workers, sports, movies, restaurants, and so much more.
The last few days were bright, sunny warm and cold, rainy, and overcast. Today, it’s sunny and cold, which feels about right. I was able to take a walk with my wife when it was nice and sneak in a walk with the dog right before the weather turned.
I’ve tried to make the most of this time. I’m still trying to find a proper morning ritual and be as positive as possible during the day to do the kind of work I want to put out into the world.
I thought it might be a good idea to mark down a couple of moments early on that have helped me not be as crazy as I could be during this crazy pandemic:
Be well, everyone. Stay safe.
This Is What Happens When a Narcissist Runs a Crisis
Jennifer Senior, writing for The New York Times, explains what everyone with a brain knew before 2016.
And most relevant, as far as history is concerned: Narcissistic personalities are weak.
What that means, during this pandemic: Trump is genuinely afraid to lead. He can’t bring himself to make robust use of the Defense Production Act, because the buck would stop with him. (To this day, he insists states should be acquiring their own ventilators.) When asked about delays in testing, he said, “I don’t take responsibility at all.” During Friday’s news conference, he added the tests “we inherited were “broken, were obsolete,” when this form of coronavirus didn’t even exist under his predecessor.
This sounds an awful lot like one of the three sentences that Homer Simpson swears will get you through life: “It was like that when I got here.”
I’ve stopped watching anything he says or does. I’ll read accounts. Maybe I’ll watch a recap, but not without real context, fact-checking, and a large dose of reality. Look, he isn’t taking charge because he can’t be bothered. The only crisis for him is the fact that he can’t campaign for re-election the way he wants.
Thank God for the Internet
Josh Topolsky, writing at Input, has some smart thoughts on how the internet has completely made a difference during our new Work from Home situation.
But thank god for the internet. What the hell would we do right now without the internet? How would so many of us work, stay connected, stay informed, stay entertained? For all of its failings and flops, all of its breeches and blunders, the internet has become the digital town square that we always believed it could and should be. At a time when politicians and many corporations have exhibited the worst instincts, we’re seeing some of the best of what humanity has to offer — and we’re seeing it because the internet exists.
Now, I’m not letting Mark Zuckerberg or Jeff Bezos off the hook, but we also can’t deny that there is still good, still utility, still humanity present here — and it’s saving us in huge ways and little ones, too. In the shadow of the coronavirus, the sum of the “good” internet has dwarfed its bad parts. The din of a connected humanity that needs the internet has all but drowned out its worst parts. Oh, they’re still there, but it’s clear they aren’t what the internet is; they’re merely the runoff, the waste product.
Now I can imagine what sheltering at home in, say, 1986 would be like because I remember that time. What I think about is my 17-year-old stepdaughter, who is now probably not going to have a real high school graduation and might even have to start her collegiate career e-learning instead of meeting her roommate, classmates, and professors in person.
At least we have the internet… and it’s working about as beautifully as possible.
Art in the Middle of a Pandemic
It occurs to me that one of the most important aspects of staying home is the ability to access and create art. I’m seeing it every day.
The joke is our forefathers were asked to go to war, and we are asked to sit on the couch… we can do this! Of course, we can. It’s even easier with a million shows to watch and movies to stream. The internet has billions of places to go to see the northern lights, museums, and more.
I’m lucky enough to be able to work from home. I sit in my basement and take care of the things I used to do in the office. I write my articles, my box art copy, my magazine ads, and interact with my co-workers via Microsoft Team and Zoom. It’s different, but it works, and I know we are all going to get through this stronger and more together than ever before.
One of my simple joys is walking the dog in my neighborhood. This week I found chalk art on the sidewalks, and it made me happy. I was inspired. It made me want to do some chalk art in our little neck of the woods.
My daughter is a few hours away, dealing with not being able to teach her middle schoolers and finding ways to cope with the new normal. Her solution was to go outside in the sun and draw. She’s able to do that because where she lives is a seriously small town, and she can walk out her door and be downtown in minutes. She’s grabbing a few pencils and a sketchpad, finding a nice bench or a patch of grass and drawing.
Being creative is vitally important. Viewing art keeps us sane, and making it brings joy to ourselves and others.
How are you being creative? What art will you bring into the world?
Adam Schlesinger, RIP
Adam Schlesinger passed away from coronavirus-related issues, and I’m shaken.
You may not know the name, but you know the songs. So many perfect pop songs were written by the co-founder of Fountains of Wayne. Sure, you know “Stacy’s Mom,” but that isn’t even the best song on that album.
Spenser Kornhaber, writing in The Atlantic, outlined just a few of his credits.
Schlesinger had other smashes, and many were just as good as the real thing. The 1996 Tom Hanks film That Thing You Do! portrayed a band rocketing to fame on the strength of one irresistible tune, which Schlesinger wrote for the movie. He created the songs for the 2007 Hugh Grant rom-com, Music and Lyrics, about a middle-aged pop star trying to revive his career. In the 2010s TV comedy Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, characters regularly belted Schlesinger’s madcap words to audiences that often existed only in those characters’ heads.
My favorite songs of his are on the Tinted Windows album.
Stay inside, people. Stay safe.
One Day at a Time
I’m so drained.
Of course, I’m not alone.
My family is safe. My extended family is safe. My wife and I can work from home and have been doing as best as possible. It has not been easy, nor has it been ideal.
But we are getting through this.
Feeling fortunate gives way to feelings of uncertainty and fear.
None of this is ending soon1.
When schools closed or switched to Google Classroom, I knew the school year was done. When professional sports “postponed” their seasons, I knew the seasons were done. Same with college sports, concert tours, movies, the list goes on and on. These things are over and done with, and they aren’t coming back in April, May, or June. They just aren’t.
As soon as Major League Baseball starts up and a player tests positive for the virus, it will be over. The same will happen with Fall sports starting up. As soon as a player or coach tests positive, the season will be done. Movies pushed out further into the year hope something changes, but chances are they will be postponed indefinitely.
We aren’t going back to the way things were after six, eight, or even twelve weeks.
We aren’t going back to a semblance of the normal way things used to be until at last 2021, and for damn sure not until there’s a vaccine, which is, maybe, coming in early 2021.
Sure, no one really knows what happens next, but let’s be real. The epidemic is not slowing down. Every graph on the growth has it moving up. It isn’t changing. We are still climbing, and the trajectory is terrible.
So, how long is this going to go? A long time. Months. If you think academic institutions will start up in September, I think that’s hopeful but not realistic. Of course, some real effort by governors and business leaders may lead to more testing and quarantining, and everything will get under some control. Perhaps we can flatten that trajectory. I’m not holding my breath.
The best-case scenario is that nothing changes until there’s a vaccine. Everything else feels like magical thinking, and I’m tired of magical thinking and wishing it all away.
What will it be like in November when there’s an election of global consequences? Think there’s going to be a Federal push for mail-in voting? It will never happen. I’m not hopeful an honest election is even going to happen.
So, here we are, stuck inside with the economy tanking and people continually risking their lives to save everyone from this pandemic. No one can plan for the future.
It’s all just one day at a time.
Looking Out for One Another
Below was a Facebook post by my friend, Grant Chastain. It is heartbreaking and inspiring all at the same time. I’ve reprinted it here for those who can’t see Facebook or choose not to visit the site.
It’s 6:57am on a Tuesday, and I’m just arriving at work, to do a job I’ve loved more than most of the ones I’ve had.
There are days when I’m reminded of past jobs. My last job, in particular. A soul-crushing grind of a place with bad management and worse prospects. I remember that the happiest moments I would have were at 4:01 on Friday afternoons, when I was the furthest away from returning to it. The nagging sorrow of Saturday afternoons, when I realized that time was inexorably marching like Death towards going back. The anxiety filled Sundays when the clock taunted my every effort to make the day last a little longer.
This job isn’t like that. This employer values me and my ideas. This place’s employees are happy, and genuinely want to help our customers. Help each other. I like them.
It’s 2:59pm on a Tuesday. I’m being informed I will need to work from home for the foreseeable future. I say goodbye to my coworkers with a joke about seeing them again in a few weeks when “we’re all dressed like Mad Max and using bottle caps as currency.” Mild laughs. This sucks. These are good people making the best of a bad situation. Hard workers. Good friends.
It’s 3:35pm on a Tuesday, and I’m replying to my wife via text. She is concerned because businesses are closing their doors to outlast this, and the Cafe is among them. We discuss ideas, but small businesses are difficult to maintain in the most ideal conditions. I want to help, but I feel helpless, like so many others must.
It’s 4:15pm on a Tuesday and I’m stopping at a local church to vote. The man inside helps me correct my address because I’ve moved since the last election cycle. I pull up my last bank statement to corroborate the address that’s now on my driver’s license, and he marvels at the young man in the picture. “Been awhile, eh? Eeehhh, you’re still looking like a million bucks!” He laughs. I chuckle. He asks if I’d be interested in volunteering for a future election, but I decline, saying I’m not as heroic as he is. He laughs again. “Definitely don’t need any heroes. But if you change your mind, we could use good people.” I’m not sure if I’m one of them either. I cast my preference for a Blue candidate in a very Red state, insert my ballot into a machine, and pick up a silly little sticker on the way outside the door.
It’s 4:45pm on a Tuesday, and I’m walking into my neighborhood Wal-Mart to pick up groceries. I am doing this because I know how bad it will be, and I don’t want Missy to have to do it. To see how bad it has become.
It’s 4:56pm on a Tuesday, and a voice carries through the aisles that they are selling six packs of toilet paper and double rolls of paper towels, one per family. I stand in a line to get them that takes me the better part of 15 minutes. By the time I get to the end, the paper towels are gone. I grab a sixer of Cottonelle and think to myself that this is what passes for lucky.
It’s 5:11pm on a Tuesday, and I take stock of what I’ve managed to find. A gallon of milk and cereal. Chicken strips. Bagels. Cheese. Sugar snap peas. Ice cream. I missed on more items than I hit, but I’m nonetheless grateful. As I make my way to checkout, I gaze across aisles at disappointed faces, all looking furtively for the necessities that will feed, clothe, wash, and disinfect a family. There’s a sense of quiet desperation there. This place that is so symbolic of The American Fucking Dream. It’s a mausoleum for the very idea of achievement.
It’s 5:45pm on a Tuesday, and I’m checking out. My ice cream has some melted chocolate on top, so I ask the cashier for a wipe so I can make it less sticky. She apologizes that all she has is a paper towel, ad if that would be a dealbreaker. I tell her that that’s not only fine… It’s ideal. She says I have a good outlook on things. It’s not an easy compliment to take, considering I know how sad I feel inside about it all.
It’s 5:51 on a Tuesday, and I’m crying in the car. Wal-Mart isn’t Disneyland — for one thing, it’s still open — but the sorrow I’ve seen in that store will not leave me. The faces of people who are simply trying to soldier onward. Put food on their tables. Buy medicine for their children. Care for their babies and elderly. This country — this sick, and sickened, country — trying to deal with conditions that could have been prepared for by the people we trusted to lead us. Less than two hours ago, I put the name of an individual into a machine because I trust that this candidate won’t put reelection ahead of humanity. I trust that they will have strong words, and swift responses. I trust that they will defer to those with more knowledge on topics they know little about. I trust that this individual wouldn’t make secret deals to secure a vaccine to a terrible virus so it could be solely used by — and profited on — by he and his family. I trust these things because I must. I have to believe that there are better men and women to lead us. And in the meantime, I will weather this storm, like so many others are. And I will cry when I must, like now. But it breaks my heart sometimes.
It’s 6:23pm on a Tuesday, and I’m driving down Alma School blaring Rise Against’s “Satellite” at much louder volumes than is necessary, tears stinging my cheeks. I pull into a Boston Market to get dinner for us on the way back. When it comes time to get drinks, my favorite lemonade is gone. I catch the attention of the manager, and ask if she has more. She returns three minutes later and replaces the cartridge. While she’s replacing the nozzle, we share this exchange:
“I can’t tell you what this means to me. I had kind of a crappy day today. I don’t always know what I’m gonna get when I come here, but I always know what I want to drink. You made my day just now.”
“Well I’m glad! It’s the least we can do. Look out for one another. And that lemonade IS good!”
It’s 6:52pm on a Tuesday. I’m going home now to deliver my bounty and see my wife.
Look out for one another tomorrow. And hopefully, the next day. And the day after that.
That’s how we’ll all get through this.
Kobe Bryant
On Sunday, Kobe Bryant died in a helicopter crash. Eight other people also died, including his 13-year-old daughter Gianna “Gigi.”
When I heard the news, I was as shocked as anyone, but I was not emotionally affected. He was not a personal friend of mine or a member of my family, so I did not cry or become upset at his passing. I never knew Bryant personally. I didn’t have much fan/professional athlete relationship with him. I probably only watched him play a handful of times. So, I can’t speak to his basketball legacy, and I’ll let others more qualified pay those respects with their tributes. I can only say he was an unbelievably talented basketball player who led the Los Angeles Lakers to two championships.
Sports are essential in my life, but Kobe Bryant was never one of my icons. I will likely be more affected when Larry Bird or Michael Jordan passes away. At the very least, I met Bird before his NBA career and watched both play many more times than Bryant.
The story of Bryant’s death shot around the world in seconds. I thought of the others who died. None of it was fair. We are losing far too many good people and not finding enough replacements that meet the standard. By all accounts, Bryant was doing his best to spend more time with his family. He was trying to be a better father and husband. It is a shame we will never see that second life he building blossom decades from now. I read his poem from The Player’s Tribune and mourn what might have been.
I’m aware of his rape trial, but now is not the time to revisit this black mark on Bryant. Speaking ill of the dead is uncivilized. All I remember about this incident was the giant apology ring he gave his wife and that she did forgive him. Who am I to judge another person’s relationship? I don’t believe Bryant was a saint, and I’m sure those who have survived sexual abuse and trauma aren’t happy he is being celebrated all across the media.
Who am I to judge how another person manages their grief?
Will Leitch, writing for New York Magazine, laid out Bryant’s post-player career and it honestly surprised me.
Since retiring from the NBA, Kobe had laid down a framework for an athlete’s post-retirement life that was as groundbreaking a template as his Hall of Fame on-court career was for active players. He founded and ran a company, Kobe Inc. that worked in sports branding and ended up earning him more than $200 million when Coca-Cola bought one of the companies he’d invested in. He started a venture capital firm. He hosted his own streaming television show for ESPN. He partnered with a multisport training academy for young athletes. He became an outspoken critic of the president during a time when players were finding their political voices more and more. He published a number of books. An outreach program in China made him the most popular player in the country still, five years after he left the game. He retained one of the best-selling shoe brands for Nike. He won a freaking Oscar.
Kobe fit more into his four year post basketball career than most humans could stuff into several lifetimes. And he’d only been out for a few years. He was still, somehow, only 41.
And Kobe wasn’t just thriving and evolving with his businesses. In recent years, his four daughters (including a baby born just last June), and his place in their life, began to take center stage. His daughter Gigi had become an up-and-coming basketball player herself, and Kobe was her coach; a clip of Kobe explaining a basketball concept to her daughters was his last viral moment in a lifetime of them.
Undoubtedly, he would have excelled in his after-professional basketball life. He was already prospering, and he’d only been out of the game a few years. As Leitch says, he was just getting started.
In a 2008 interview, Kobe Bryant spoke with Priya David about his inspiration for creating The Kobe Bryant Basketball Academy. In the interview, he expresses what he wanted the young people who attended the camp to learn.
“Have a good time. Enjoy life. Life is too short to get bogged down and be discouraged. You have to keep moving. You have to keep going. Put one foot in front of the other, smile, and just keep on rolling.”
Life is too short. It is filled with happiness, laughter, sorrow, and tears. There isn’t much to say but to remind everyone to treat life like its precious jewel. Don’t take unnecessary risks; put yourself out there and work hard. Find your passion. Don’t let go of your dreams. Tell the girl or boy you love them. Jump into the world and live because it’s your only life.
My heart goes out to the families of everyone lost to this senseless crash. It is a reminder never to take the time we have with loved ones for granted. While I’m not personally grief-stricken, there are others right now experiencing unimaginable grief and heartbreak.
When a tragedy like this happens, it reminds us that curveballs come at the most inopportune time. At any given moment, a more personal tragedy could befall us. We have no control. I never want it to be too late to tell the people I love them very much.
Make the most of the opportunities before you. Don’t wait for a tragedy to tell someone you love them, be with them, and cherish them. Enjoy life with the ones who make you happy.
For so many young people, Bryant was their inspiration. Watching someone play the game with such intensity and passion is inspiring. You can learn to harness your passion by taking a page out of Bryant’s all-too-brief time here.
He was larger-than-life and one of the greatest basketball players ever. It did not come easy. He had immense talent, but he worked incredibly hard for years and had tremendous discipline to become the player he was.
Everyone can be inspired by Bryant’s work ethic and love of his passion. Not everyone will reach his heights, but we can all work with that same intensity. We can all channel his work ethic into our pursuits.
Kobe Bryant was always an inspiration. What lessons can you learn from a life well lived?
Who Can Beat Trump?
I barely watched the last Democratic debate. I did not watch much of the earlier ones either. The reason is simple: I’m voting for whomever the Democrats put forward because making Donald J. Trump a one-term president is of utmost importance.
The problem I see is I have no idea which of these candidates can beat Trump.
Spending time on policy topics is a waste of time. The American public does not care one iota about policies. To be sure, when presented with various policy positions, they will have opinions, but deep down inside, they do not care unless the policies affect them directly. I care about several policy positions and less about others. However, overall, I don’t care about the nuances between the candidates, and I suspect most Americans feel the same way.
All that matters is who is going to beat Trump.
Joe Biden should have run in 2016 when he was just 74. I know he didn’t because he lost his son in 2015, but he also lost his shot. Seriously, if he were 68 or even better 58, he’d be beating the field by even larger margins. Still, he has the added appeal of Obama voters who want to return to that simpler time, massive support from the African-American community and white-working class, and is incredibly popular. Unfortunately, his ability to form robust, long-remembered sentences is compounded by him mumbling and stammering. Yes, I’m aware of his stutter, but I don’t remember even hearing about his stuttering during the Obama years. I worry he won’t be able to handle the bluster of Trump’s Adderall (probably) fueled energy. He’s a good man whose time has come and gone. I’d rather remember him as the fun-loving vice president of Obama than a candidate from yesterday who doesn’t understand modern-day Republicans.
I very much like Elizabeth Warren, but I see far too much of the Hilary Clinton-level baggage when up against Trump and the Republican hate machine. One of the reasons I gravitated toward Barack Obama was his professorial demeanor. Warren has a similar appeal, but she also has the stupid ancestry thing over her head, among other encumbrances. She has fight, and she would win a debate with Trump, but she might not win the election. Adding Julian Castro has helped her, but I don’t know yet if that’s enough. I like her balance between having a strong vision for the country and then being able to execute her policies. I hope, if she becomes President, that she can do it.
The candidate who is most trying to act and sound like Obama is Pete Buttigieg. I love his candidacy when presented as the polar opposite of Trump, and he would mop the floor with both Trump and Pence in a debate, but I’m not sure he can walk into a room and have all eyes on him. He lacks charisma but has a Midwestern charm. He’s so smooth. I’m mostly worried that he has virtually no African-American appeal, and he should have a strong appeal to the young vote, but he doesn’t. What’s appealing to someone like me is that he represents generational change without a massive far-left agenda. Of course, that’s why Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez didn’t endorse him. The other Midwesterner still running is Amy Klobuchar, but she has zero gravitas and doesn’t have much traction. She will drop out of the race after the Iowa caucus when voters finally tell her she has no shot.
And then there was Bernie.
I don’t particularly like Bernie Sanders mostly because he comes across like a parody of a Brooklyn Jew and that he’s 78 years old. Can he beat Trump in an election? I don’t know. However, he knows his stuff and is battle-hardened after Clinton was anointed in 2016 before he could make the better case against Trump. He has never wavered in his beliefs, and that is comforting. His commitment to righting the wrongs of inequality are consistent and noteworthy. I can see him easily taking on Trump and exposing him for the con man he truly is.
On the other hand, he recently suffered a heart attack. He’d be the oldest person ever to enter the White House, and getting through his first term, let alone campaigning for a second term, would be a dark cloud over him. His appeal to young people is enormous. The AOC endorsement is important. Can he win? Maybe.
The billionaires in the race are not worth much thought. They are running vanity campaigns and are basically in the way. They don’t have a shot at the nomination and would be better served if they both put their money, campaign field offices, production, and on-the-ground marketing and promotion teams to work for the candidate chosen. Don’t be naïve; both Sanders and Warren would take help and would do so gladly.
I like this idea put forth by Robert Reich on Twitter -
Hell, if we’re dreaming, why don’t we convince Michael Bloomberg and Tom Steyer to float a billion dollars to Trump to resign? That would solve a great many problems.
So here we stand with Bernie and his energy, “Bernie-bros,” and young people inspiration and Grandpa Joe with his Obama connection, appeal to black and Midwestern voters, and a return to normalcy. At this point in early January before the Iowa caucus… I’m not feeling anyone quite yet.
Momentum is a funny thing. A win in Iowa can carry a candidate. Most people are just barely paying attention to the election. Once a candidate is set, I think it will move at a blistering pace. Who might the candidate be who can beat Trump? I’m not sure anyone knows.
Of course, I’m voting for the Democrat, whoever it is. Trump is a stain on the American experiment, and he should never have gotten a whiff of the White House, but here we are. An insane threat to the entire planet buzzes for another Diet Coke from the Oval Office and watches his impeachment trial, and we have to pretend that nothing is wrong.
Grandpa Joe, Mayor Pete, Professor Warren, and Brooklyn Bernie walk into an election. It sounds like the start of a joke. Let’s hope this time the election isn’t one.
The Wounded Vet with the Penis Transplant
Andrew Zaleski, writing for MIT Technology Review, has an inspiring and remarkable story about a veteran with a horrific injury and what it took to give him back his dignity.
I had no idea this was even possible.
The NCAA Will Never Fix Itself
Jemele Hill, writing for The Atlantic, has an interesting story on what’s wrong with college sports and why Congress needs to step in and fix the problem. It smartly focuses on Cory Booker, who was a D1 college athlete and is now a Senator and Presidential Candidate.
Basically, the NCAA doesn’t want to share the wealth. It will be interesting to see where all this goes in the next five to ten years.
David Freese Retires
— David Freese (@DavidFreese) October 12, 2019
He provided one of the greatest moments in St. Louis Cardinals history and will be remembered forever because of it.
Nobody’s Above the Law
Mark Frauendfelder, writing at Boing Boing, points us to a video by Jonathan Coulton that appeared at the end of The Good Fight episode “Day 450.” It’s a loving tribute to Schoolhouse Rock. I don’t watch The Good Fight and had no idea this existed.
Seems apropos.