Back to the Future

Last weekend I was in Chicago for Northwestern's homecoming and my college reunion.  

Initially walking into the reunion party on Friday night was a bit shocking as many people looked a bit older than how I pictured them in my mind from freshman year!  (My Rob has a theory that your friends don't age, though others do...).  Evanston also blossomed from a 'dry town' where the prevailing nightlife was going to a fraternity party or heading south to Chicago,  to a true college town with restaurants, shops and of course bars.

The next day, walking around the beautiful campus, located on the shores of Lake Michigan, we also noted what's changed and what's endured.  

Though the biggest change was the sense of school spirit, which I think is a direct link to having a great football team.    

When I was in school, Northwestern's football team was legendary for its string of losses, and the prevailing sentiment was intellectual apathy.   "Lake the posts"  referred to the rare victory tradition of students ripping the goal posts down  for a Lake Michigan bath.   

Though we weren't the ultimate underdogs,  we seemed to expect to lose...

Now, in dramatic contrast, last Saturday students and alums were decked in purple, the water fountain had purple water, ESPN was on campus, and the nationally ranked football team led by the beloved coach Pat Fitzgerald was going to play in a primetime ABC broadcast of the Northwestern Wildcats vs. Ohio State Buckeyes.  

Ohio State, #3 in the nation, consistently a "great football team" (and rival if you grew up in Michigan), was predicted to win.  And yet, during the game, it seemed as if, as if...a miracle might happen.

In the end we lost, yet played like we expected to win.   My friend Dennis commented that if we won, Northwestern might have moved up to a top 10 national ranking.  "But that can't really happen," he said,  "We're not supposed to have a good football team." 

Interesting to think about the limitations of the fixed ideas we carry with us. 

What's Right in Front of You

When I lived on the west coast, looking at a different ocean for six years, I often thought of the Atlantic.

Now the Atlantic didn't conjure up images of beach trails and drum circles, someone strumming a guitar around a fire pit, surfers turtling out under the waves for the last surf of the day before the sun slipped past the horizon.  That was California, the golden dream of the golden land, or "The great experiment" as my friend Dave would sometimes say.   A place so beautiful that when I saw it last, I almost couldn't believe I once lived there.

Now the Atlantic was ultimately more than dunes and soft grasses, the warm gulf stream waters of South Florida and big white sandy stretches of Eastern Long Island and the rocky coastlines and barrier islands of Nova Scotia.  It was who not what, that ultimately anchored me back East. 

(Though a good friend in California did comment that I could 'Take a lap around the room before committing to a location'.)  

A special trick of course is to make sure to mentally capture the moment, the time, when it happens, trying not to skip ahead too much, realizing that one day the "good ol' days' will be the actual day you are in at the moment.    A yoga teacher might say this is being present.  It's also about appreciation, which is often seen best in hindsight instead of the actual moment.

Over the 4th of July, I was at an annual party, where the lawn was full of people dressed in red, white and blue, and fireworks being shot off right over head (to the tune of Neil Diamond "Coming to America" no less).   It was one of those perfect East Coast July evenings, blue skies, mild weather and ice cream, crisp white beadboard and soft purple hydrangeas in full bloom.

More than once it has reminded me of the final scene in the film "Meet Joe Black" where Joe Black (death, played by Brad Pitt) is about to escort William Parrish (Anthony Hopkins) away, later that evening, during his 65th birthday celebration.  William Parrish has gotten a rare 'heads up' about Joe Black's nature, so he's given the rare gift of not wasting the moment.  Fireworks are exploding over head and everyone that William Parrish knows and loves are with him that night.  William Parrish notices Joe Black caught up in the beauty all around him and comments, "It's hard to let go isn't it."   Joe replies, "Yes it is, Bill."  Bill replies, "And that's life...what can I tell you."

Enjoying the ride, all of the ride, requires a certain discipline, and more often than not, you're only able to see the road signs when looking backwards.

Yesterday I was rushing from work to meet two close friend I've known for over 20 plus years, one who was in town for  a meeting.   My office air conditioning was broken and I was running late due to a train stall and being stuck underground with equally sweaty and grumpy people.    As I made my way down 6th Avenue, I had to laugh at the big reminder right in front of me.

EnJOY.

The Miracle of Spring

One of the things I appreciate most about being back East is the true sense of seasons, and the glory (relief?) of spring finally arriving.

While it hasn't been the coldest winter that I remember (at least in my 4th winter back East), it seems like it's been the longest with March coming in and leaving like a lion, with "chance of snow" a lingering grumble in the weather report.

Living in temperate places like California or more tropical like South Florida, warm sunny days can become commonplace and even taken for granted.  Back East, the short, dark, colorless days and constant chill in the air make the physical and emotional hibernation of winter a necessary retreat.  

Around mid March I kept looking up at the bare trees on my street and wondering if I'd ever see buds.  Mentally you think you will, but in the midst of winter, you begin to have your doubts.   

Believing, which is unseen knowing, without a shade of proof,  becomes a bit harder...

Somehow, after some false starts and late season snowstorms, the clouds clear, the rain stops, the sun warms, the earth turns, people shed their layers, dust off the cobwebs and embrace the new season.

Barren trees on my street, lacking any signs of bud life, suddenly burst forth with glorious bloom.

And while it happens every year, every year it feels somehow miraculous.

Perhaps spring is our reminder to believe there's always room for miracles.

State of Wonder

A friend from California (and New York part 1) called me a couple weeks ago when she was driving up the Coast Highway from Laguna to Newport.  "I heard Billy Squier on the radio twice today and thought of you." 

While listening to an 80's arena rock star has a funny free association trigger effect, Eli and I hadn't chatted in a while so I'm grateful to Billy for prompting the call.  

She mentioned she hadn't 'heard' from me in a while, meaning it's been a while since I've written some blog posts.  Looking back over the past couple of months I can probably attribute this to 'being busy' -  fairly regular travel and a lot of activities at home, a heavy work season of planning and budgeting, personal planning and budgeting -  a real over balance of left brain in my right brain world.   Oh and it's been winter - I no longer live in a place where there's lemon trees, constant sunshine, the smell of the ocean and yoga on the beach in January and February.  

Seasons have their magic, though I can make the assumption that many of us are quite ready for spring.

Friday morning I was at my desk reviewing a powerpoint when a colleague from the Adirondacks sent me a photo of a bobcat one of our scientists had shared from a tracking study.  Throughout the day I kept looking at the photo, immediately transported to the great forest of the Adirondacks, hearing the quiet, the bobcat softly moving through the woods.  Alone?  For food? From where, to where? What else is in those mighty woods?   My imagination, like a cold radiator, finally sputtered and sparked to life.

I posted the photo on facebook and within 5 minutes a well known editor and television personality commented on my post, along with several others - an immediate visceral reaction to the awe and wonder of nature, and the amazing world we live in.

While the calendar says spring is around the corner, I'm still in my uniform of a long down coat, hat, scarf and sweater today.  Though, thanks to a bobcat hundreds of miles away, it's closer.