unwrapping 52

Unlike choosing which pair of favorite blue jeans to wear or what album to spin on my turntable, I was never given the opportunity to pick my own birthday. In that sense, it's sort of like a gift that was given to me. My tasks then become unwrapping it, being delighted with what I find inside, and being genuinely thankful for receiving it. It is after all, a gift.

Mom and Dad always taught to share, so I do. I've never met Tom Petty, but he and I share the same birthday. Over the years, he's become one of my music and poetic heroes. Running Down a Dream has become a fave tune that I find myself singing every year on this date. It's become my personal birthday song. I believe in it.

Looking at my dashboard this morning during my early morning commute, I noticed the number 52 staring back at me from the speedometer. Brilliantly perfect.

As they always do, Tom's words filled my thoughts once again while my favorite blue jeans were just that. Favorites… just like my gift.

"Runnin' down a dream, Workin' on a mystery, Goin' wherever it leads, I'm runnin' down a dream"

bearing down with the tools

I've come a really long way since my youth, but I'll never claim to be the most intelligent book in the library. If I were a book though, I'd probably be found somewhere between 640 Home Economics and Family Living and 788 Other Final Products and Packaging. There's plenty of other stellar stuff in between those bookends as well including Beverage Technology; Numismatics and Sigillography; Human Figures and Their Parts; and Wind Instruments (Aerophones). I'm sure I've dabbled in all of these at some point during my "this is my life" roadtrip.

Tools. I can't express just how thankful I am for them, especially those that I use everyday like spellcheck. I'm also thrilled and beyond thankful to be creative. It saves me.

Between my tools and my creativeness, this blog post was fully conceptualized, photo processed, written, edited, and the end creative product completed… all while sitting in a conference, listening to an unbelievably tiring speaker, who only spoke with a monotone delivery and kept clicking through one of the most dreadful and long PowerPoint presentations I’ve ever had to sit through.

Death by PowerPoint is not a myth. It is a reality and I became the walking dead. Fortunately, I was resurrected from my zombie state by the sunlight of a Friday afternoon, an autumn drive with the windows down, and a cup of stale coffee.

I dig my tools and my creative ability to be somewhere else when it really, really matters.

cadence and remembrance

My son and I made our annual Virginia Tech run this weekend for our father and son football weekend. As we do every year, Saturday began early with a three and a half hour road trip to Blacksburg. Filled with hours of great music, laughs, and good conversation, those hours never seem quite as long as they actually are.

Our pre-game morning included our ritual of charcoal grilled fine dining, various sides, salsa, and numerous cold beverages. We do it right every year and I wouldn't trade these days for the world. Prior to what ended up being one of the finest college football games I've ever seen, the Marching Virginians emotionally thrilled us with their high-energy and spirited cadence just outside of Lane Stadium. Saturday may have qualified us as officially having lived the dream.

We make this trek once a year and every one includes a story from past years. Next year and those that follow will certainly include tales from yesterday. I doubt we could have made the day's sun-fueled spirit any better. You can bet though, we’ll do our best to add a chapter or two next year.

As night fell and we walked past the memorial in front of Burress Hall, the reality of the day was remembered in more ways than just tailgates, scoreboards, or drumlines. The day, just like every day, was a gift.