It's rare for me to do something like this anymore. I typically keep my thoughts and feelings off social media. I'm private about my life. In fact, it's been four years since I've penned anything on this blog. 

Maybe I've grown up, maybe inspiration came through different mediums these last four years, or maybe I just needed a break. Today's entry is slightly different; I'm feeling intensely introspective. 

Well, I should've known that I was in for one hell of a year

Let's rewind. Our son was in a hospital bed for over 40 days last year. I know I'm no different from you when I say I’d move heaven, earth, and time to make sure my children have peace, health, and love. Last year was sobering to experience. I had my ups and downs, and the demons that were dormant from my past, were awoken during that experience. I lost my brother a while ago and never quite healed, I guess. That was in April years ago, our son’s hospital stay started in April last year. The reality of seeing my son, my hope for living, writhe in pain, wake up in a hospital bed with IV pumps coursing serums into his body for several weeks was far from fathomable; this couldn't be my reality, could it?

And strangely, it was. Reality can have a cold firm, white knuckle grip on your sanity, and having hope of any kind is a fleeting thought.

What does that have to do with anything, you ask? 

Let’s start here; the last few years have been anything but normal for all of us.  My story above is just one of many examples of what, we as humans, had to overcome. Life hit an inflection point and altered the very comfortable life we all had. Where it's left us is in isolation and alone at times. Experiencing this together, yet apart.  And now our interactions with each other are contrived, forced, and awkward. We go out of our houses and we’re afraid. Afraid of the backlash from someone who might believe something different. Afraid of the anxiety that has people yelling at each other in grocery stores. Afraid of the behaviors of a few people that we then use to generalize all of humanity. Afraid of the anxiety we feel that is so debilitating. 

The very fabric making us human, our connection, is now frayed. Just today my wife shared a story of her journey to a local store to pick up things we needed at home. The drive there was anything but easy. Anxiety from behavior of drivers, stickers on cars, perception of vehicles. In the store, the anxiety from being around others, some in masks, and some not. Would they judge or was she judging them? And then you hurry to line up, don’t talk, pay, and rush back to your car to come home. In the parking lot, more anxiety; traffic, some fast and some slow; homeless, people in a hurry. The weight of the experience was crushing.

And this is another example of how challenging it has been to be human these last two years. The degree of difficulty has been very high for all of us. Yet we don’t talk to each other about it.  We fall back into our caves, our isolation. 

And it's not too late to fix what's broken 

Back to the concept of hope I mentioned at the top of this entry. We must reach deep and find our hope. With hope in our heart, we can return to the kind and compassionate beings we used to be.

Hope comes in many shapes, sizes, and colors. Sometimes it's a song you needed to hear right when you needed to hear it, sometimes it's a game of Uno or Too Many Monkeys, sometimes, it's a nurse that explains the go-forward plan, sometimes it's an Excel spreadsheet that you follow to keep you focused, and sometimes....it's a family member or friend who tells you what you need to hear at the most precise moment. In my instance, it was my seemingly frail son barely the weight of two sandbags, who told me, with absolute purpose and shear resolve, that he’s going to beat this.  That’s hope. Period.

Regardless of what it is, you have to channel it. It’s the electrical ground of your circuitry. We've all been through a lot these last two years. I repeatedly tell my team at work the "hope is not a plan." But I think I'm wrong.

Having hope is a plan. It's a way to bridge the valleys of unknown and uncertainty.  It’s a way to be, and stay, resilient. It’s a way to start to trust each other again. It’s a way to believe that we’ll rediscover each other and the good that’s in our hearts. We aren’t enemies. In fact, we’re more alike than we are different.  Maybe this is just my desperate plea to find the good in things and the good in people.

Take a minute to breathe, I'd tell you to hug someone, but we’re all scare to hug anymore with the risk of being threatening, violating personal spaces, making someone feel uncomfortable, or worse, passing on a disease.  All of this made us afraid to connect.  But when you can, hug a friend, hug a kid, hug a parent, hug your dog, hug your cat, hug your neighbor, but please don't hug a homeless person because they may get too excited and take you back to their tent down by the river.

I'm neither writing this for the attention nor for the sympathy; I'm writing it to flush the negative through this plumbing in a cathartic way. I needed something to put hope back in my heart. 

Then I remember that I'm forever just an emo kid at heart

Listen here -->

You always can feel the end of summer by the increasing frequency of advertisements for back to school shopping, the sunsets that creep up on you earlier each night, and your growing annoyance with your children. Is it time to send these pig headed kids back to school yet? Why yes it is.

This year, Son #1 started first grade; a full day of school where my wife has to get up and prepare a lunch which most likely he’ll never eat. As most things go, my work always seems to draw me in and threatens my opportunity to do things which require personal time and commitment. This time it was Son #1's first day of first grade. Yes maybe kindergarten is a bigger milestone in this age bracket. But this is his first day of full day school. There's a lot of emotion wrapped up in this kid. More than your typical offspring. He was conceived in a time of our life that was full of pain, self destructive and hopeless. And like a Phoenix rising from the proverbial ashes, we found out we were pregnant with him and life was suddenly and eternally altered. We lost our memory on the past which had hardened our hearts and refocused our hope for the future.

Moments like that cannot be accurately or effectively communicated in a blog like this. So much emotion, so much fear, so much loss.....so much hope.

Milestones for Son #1 are that much more amplified because of the context under which he was conceived and born. He represents an iconic and timeless milestone of how far we came and how much he saved two people. In an effort to not drudge up anymore more about the past, let's talk about the first day of first grade.

Work nearly ruined it for me the night before as well as my obligation to meetings and corporate servitude the following day. But that morning, my wife and I got up and took him to school together. Now we had to take two different cars being that I had to get to work. When I didn't hop in my wife's car and into my own instead, Son #1 lost it. Screaming at his mother, he told her in his unique high pitched wale that I was supposed to take him to school.

I'm realizing that we’re entering a stage where his associations with me are growing and he’s yearning to spend every moment with me. Whether that be to learn or to be a little man. I'm learning patience and tolerance when he narrates everything I do like working on redoing the landscaping in the backyard and I aggravate a wrist injury and he continues to talk about it. I'm reminded that he’s learning to be a man and handle what’s thrown his way.


Dropping him off at school, he gravitates toward his friends and we slightly fade into the fray of other parents. You then carry on the small talk with the other parents about how you’re glad to get the kids out of the house and get back into a routine. Secretly, you’re worrying about this new milestone you’re now passing. You’re on the high speed highway of life and there are no off ramps or places to u-turn. I think that’s what scares most parents; that inability to get a redo or a replay. This is the first and last first day of first grade. This memory is unique in that regard and can never be experienced the same way again. Even if Son #1 was a moron and had to repeat first grade, this feeling during this exact moment is unique and is now gone. You are on to the next memory.

On a humorous note, looking around the playground as we wait for the first bell to line these rug rats up, I notice that many of the moms are playing the role. Showing up in the big truck or SUV in their stylish knockoff sunglasses and wearing their new pant set from Buckle even though they’re too old to shop there. The dads that are there are stoic and uncomfortable. Who knows why. Maybe they're uncomfortable because they’re checking out the other moms. I think it's more a fear of the realization that moms can be hot.

Back to the real story. The bell rings and the flurry of short people surround you. They all run into the courtyard between the buildings in an organized chaos. Almost like a mini flash mob of kids on the first day of school. I was waiting for them to break in to some choreographed Lady Gaga song. That never happened. Instead, they all lined up behind their teachers, Son #1 included. Then they marched into the school and into their classrooms and were gone. It was only parents now and well, we had to leave.

On the drive to work, I had one of those surreal ethereal moments where I knew it was best that I pull over to capture it. I have friends with kids that are now being born, kids that are starting preschool, kids that are starting grade school, kids that are starting junior high, and kids going to college. We all are sharing a cumulative moment of first days of school. And while it's a collective sharing of parental firsts, it's uniquely different for all of us. The contextual nature of our story is different from yours.

We all share the same prided and concern over the sands of time slipping through our fingers. But we all differ too in exactly how it connects with our souls. For me personally, it's almost a how did I get here type of concept. Not even seven years ago the landscape of life was much darker. Son #1 gave me hope. Moments like this are uniquely empowering and rewarding all in one instance. You can lose yourself forever in those few seconds.


Traveling up the highway to work, I was caught off guard with how rewarded and fortunate I’ve been over the years. God never gave me more than I could handle. I didn't know it seven years ago. I thought the end was upon me. I was happy and successful, arrogant and greedy. Then I lost a lot. We grounded ourselves and were rewarded with Son #1. Now we continue to be emotionally rewarded.

Holidays tend to bring out the emotional side of people. I’m no different in that regard. But on an average day, I’m a little more ‘sensitive’ than your average dude, I drift into a mushy ball of tears around Christmas. I think a lot about the years that have past and the years that are ahead of me. The past is littered with the successes and failures of my choices. It’s also marked with the additions and losses in the family.


It’s funny how the additions and subtractions of the past create a new path for the future. The more you think about what the future holds, you begin to realize what will be missing as you move forward. That begins to pain you to the core. Because all you are is where you’ve been, you can’t help but get caught in a cycle of feeling disappointment in the results. Then, you step back, gain composure, and realize that the additions are intricately intertwined to the losses. It’s a universal balance, with subtraction comes addition. And with pain and disappointment comes peace and elation.


If it’s one thing I’ve learned in my limited years on this planet, it’s to innocently accept the fortune and the fate you are dealt. You are never given any more than you should have and you will have no more pain than you can deal with.

How do I segway into the final chapter of this trilogy? Well, it’s about thankfulness and it’s about ears and it’s about my boys. Being able to hear their laughter, complaints, and fighting are just one of the beauties that were born from disappointment and loss only a few years earlier. This final chapter is about being thankful for being able to hear the universe remind me about the balance. That reminder is in the simple form of what emotions ‘sound’ like. Music.


I think about my successes and none are larger than my two boys. And while struggling with the loss of my little brother and listening to one of our favorite groups, a kismet moment occurred. A song. W music, its enjoyment, and interpretation are unique to each listener, the song is a simple message from a parent to a child about moments in time. We take those moments for granted too often. Then they’re gone.

Harlow’s Song:
When you close your eyes and go to sleep tonight, I'll be right outside your door
Dreams will come and they'll take you away, let them bring you back to me

And tomorrow when you wake I'll be next to you, the protection from the day
When the tears fall down your face like morning dew, I'll be there to put a smile on your face

and I'll say;

I don't wanna live this life without you, I don't wanna spend the night without you
I don't wanna know what it's like, I can't dream without you. I can't dream without you.

Let your fire burn bright for the world to see, you are the better part of me
When you hold my hand I swear that I believe, I'm living in my wildest dreams

and I see,

I don't wanna live this life without you, I don't wanna spend the night without you
I don't wanna know what it's like, I can't dream without you.

Flowers for your hair
Rainbows for your eyes to see
Your dreams are everywhere
To carry you away from me
Away from me someday
Away from me someday

I don't wanna live this life without you, I don't wanna spend the night without you
I don't wanna know what it's like, I can't dream without you.

I don't wanna live this life without you, I don't wanna spend the night without you
I don't wanna know what it's like, I can't dream without you.

The song isn’t unique in its context or its message. Parent loves child, parent misses child when grown up. The uniqueness of the music is the moment when it hits you and you actually ‘hear’ it. That’s what happened to me. I was sitting there thinking about my next entry and thinking about the kids. I was down right emotional about the holidays coming up and doing as much as I could for them while still retaining any disciplinarian strength I had left.

Good Charlotte, while being pop-punk, is one of my guilty pleasures when it comes to music. The latest record, “Cardiology,” would’ve been my review for New Music Monday, but I opted to span a trilogy of thankfulness instead. “Cardiology” is the most mature album from Good Charlotte to date. Both in musical experimentation and lyrical content. The lead singer, Joel Madden, is now a married father and the music reflects the growth into adulthood.

“Harlow’s Song” was written about his baby girl. I think all parents can relate to the message at any time in their parenthood. But I think younger parents have a harder time grasping what the future will hold for them as parents of adult children following their dreams. For me, I find a lot of frustration in listening to my children scream and run like headless chickens throughout my house. At times, I can’t wait to put them to bed and having some quiet. As younger parent, you forget that these nights are finite and all too soon they’ll be a fading memory of noise in a quiet house when your two sons are married and out in the world with out you as their security blanket.



So I’m not only thankful for the nights when my children eat their dinner effortlessly, but I’m thankful for the nights when I could rip their arms off and beat them senseless until they submit to my pleas of silence or at least dull the roar. I’m equally thankful for my ears which allow me to hear the entire sound spectrum of them. And then, I’m thankful for what emotions sound like. That is music and being able to hear it at the precise moment in time. The timeline of life is less about the hours and days as they pass through our hands and more about the little moments that span from beginning to end during our existence.

When you lose someone in your life and they pass on, you find yourself wondering why and searching for answers to large philosophical questions. The answers never come. So then you shift your context. You try to look for signs. You want to know two things: Are they doing better now and are they still out there watching over you?

In everything, you look for a sign that they’re still out there. You look high and low and over-analyze every little bit of wind, sound, our leaf falling. You look so hard and become so focused on wanting to connect with the loved one you get tunnel vision and miss the obvious. The human eye has almost 180 degrees of a forward facing field of vision. However, this narrows when you focus your eyes on an item. That field of vision is reduced over 75% and becomes approximately 40 degrees. So you can see that it’s fairly easy to miss things happening around you when you are focused on something.

This definition of sight is a perfect analogy which correlates to the search for signs after the loss of a loved one. I’ve spent the last 6 years in search of the answers and signs that will remove the veil of secrecy covering the face of the universe and its plan. And every time I start to excavate the unknown, I get so wrapped up in the begging for answers that I lose sight of the overall context. Others like my wife were saying that they saw a blue Subaru or a Monarch butterfly or heard a sound, or had a vision. Nothing for me. How could he be communicating with them and not with me?

After getting it together and trying to comprehend the complexity of the fabric of existence, I came to the conclusion that these are the signs I was looking for. He was just acting through a channel I was always tuned in to; my wife. Now, it’s easier for me to recognize the signs out there with the acceptance of the above. Now I see the blue Subarus and the butterflies. Now I know he's around. More specifically, he's with our kids.


The other day, while being ousted from our house, we were on our way to my parent’s for refuge. Somewhere midway through the trip on the valley freeway, Son #2 began to laugh and screech uncontrollably in a fit of happiness and joy like we've never heard. My wife and I glanced toward each other and chuckled a bit not yet considering the levity of the situation. It was easy to brush it off as Son #1 acting like a circus freak and entertaining his younger brother. So I glance back over my right shoulder in to the row behind me. I see Son #1 fighting to stay awake. As a side note, Son #1 has never been able to stay awake in an automobile during travel. He's like a travel narcoleptic.

Back to the ride. Son #1 had nothing to do with the laughter. Then my wife and I start to realize there was something bigger. It was a visit by my brother. He was entertaining Son #2 in some sort of way we will never be able to comprehend in our fleshy existence. He enamored Son #2 in is own unique way to keep him entertained on our drive down the highway. Whatever he did, Son #2 has never sounded more happy and joyous.

I’ve worried that Son #1 and Son #2 will never know my brother, their uncle, like I knew him. But I’ve come to realize that’s not necessarily a bad thing. They’ll know him through my stories, heartache, joy and reflection. But more importantly, they’ll know him in a much more intimate spiritual way than I’ll ever know. For that, I’m grateful. That’s wisdom, love, and comfort I will never be able to provide in my parenting. And while that may make me sound like I have shortcomings, that’s not the case. It’s more a matter of knowing that there is something more out there that a lost loved one on the other side can provide. He’s being the uncle that I never imagined he would be.


So now I know, when Son #2 goes to bed, fails to fall asleep, and is mumbling incomprehensible words to himself in his room for hours on end, he’s really talking to someone who's there that I’ll never see. Maybe he’s explaining that he isn’t going to eat his dinner or how he’s going to take his brother’s toys. Who knows? But I do know that the signs are out there for us to read. There are the slaps to the back of the head, there are the blue Subarus, there are the Monarch butterflies, and there are relationships with lost loved ones which you and I will never understand. We’re too focused on what we lost to know what we’ve gained. Better yet, what our children have gained. Heavenly playmates and guides to lead them down the dimly lit path of life. I know they’re not alone.

It never fails. “New Music Monday” always seems to sneak up on me when I least expect it. I’m sure there are a ton of excuses for my inability to prepare for this. I’ve discovered over the last few entries that life continually seems to get in the way of my best laid plans. No matter the excuse or reason, here we are again. And while I pride my self in being able to meet deadlines and stick to schedules, I find I’m scrambling to come up with something to write. The silver lining is that this entry forces me to stop what I am doing, planning, or even waiting for. The goal here originally was to review, but on a more esoteric level, it’s become my reason for unplugging life for a small moment and plugging in my headphones.

Considering that it’s life getting in the way, it only appropriate that this review is a byproduct of the day experienced. Son #1 goes to pre-school at a church and occasionally his studies and songs are showcased on Sundays during service. Most people recognize that I’m not drawn to the constructs of practicing my beliefs with the formal structure of a building or denomination. I’m confident in my relationship with my spirituality. But today, Son #1 was singing songs at church. In attendance, I realized during the sermon about the poignancy of recognition of life’s nuances. Son #1’s smile when he sang and saw me take pictures of him, the pastor’s message about being soulfully alert to your surroundings, Son #2 and his lust for pizza, a bike ride with Son #1, a cold refreshing beer with my wife, a blue Subaru driving by, and a tearful memory of a surprise party. All of these are the fabric of existence and the afterlife which are intricately intertwined.


On that note, I started thinking about the artists that tend to make me consider the nuances of life. The Classic Crime is one of those very bands that does just that. I stumbled on to them only five years ago in one of my ways of discovering new music. Given the ‘mental state’ I was in and the message from the lyrics, TCC and their music anchored themselves to my soul. Since that day, The Classic Crime has released one acoustic album and three studio albums; the latest Vagabonds, on April 6th, 2010. For me, this album was hugely anticipated as I’ve grown to be quite a fan of the local Seattle rock group. One could argue that TCC is a Christian rock outfit. However, I’d estimate that they merely explore how they feel and question what they believe.

Get the new Vagabonds record here at Lala.com

Vagabonds is a much more mature sounding album than I was expecting. At first listen, I was fairly disappointed at the result. I was looking for something catchy. A rock riff, an emo sound, and message that I could rally around. All of which were present but existed at a much deeper level than expected. A few more listens began to uncover the complexity of the themes on the album. It was uniquely TCC but the arrangement was more exploratory and less predictable. All of the sounds sound vaguely similar but I believe that this phenomenon happens on everyone’s record. Every artist or group has a brand of sound. Vagabonds takes the sound the band developed on last album and expands on it, creating smooth and mature rock and roll ballads with several melodic surprises. I’d surmise that there are three songs which musically and lyrically embody the spirit of the entire project.

Solar Powered Life – This was the first single off the record and interestingly enough, it is the most non-TCC song on the album. It really relies on an old school guitar riff. Still driving and anthemic like typical TCC songs, but this song is far more stripped down and pays significant homage to simplistic driven rock songs about women. But instead of the old objectification, this is metaphorically about a woman pulling her power and moods from the sun.

My Name – Simply explained, this track soars musically and lyrically to a peak over the life of the song reaching its peak moments before the end. Listening, you feel like it is climbing a sound mountain. As you close the distance between you and the peak, the music and message increase in volume and urgency. Lyrically, the song is about definition of oneself through faith. As the music fills out with more sound and complexity, you can begin to ‘feel’ that no one can define your existence but you and your Faith. Then, there's the addition of a church bell in amazingly appropriate places. If you only listen to ONE TCC song in your lifetime, listen to this one.

Everything & Nothing – This is a quintessential TCC song and it is what I remember about hearing that very first single five years ago. Driving hard melodies and lyrics about belief. What is real? I think a listener could easily find multiple meanings in this tune. It could easily be universally complex as looking for a sign from above for something more or as simple as needing to be advocated by a loved one.

At first listen, I didn’t really like the album. I had unattainable expectations. All of the anticipation led up to a let down as is true with most things. Instead, I gave it a couple of chances to earn back the entertainment performance I had hoped for it. It just took me a few listens to unearth the innate poignancy of the music. It’s about blatant honesty, maturity, and truthfulness. Clearly, the band is defiant of the formulaic drivel available in the industry. Vagabonds is a rare album in which the spirit behind the music—that of remaining true to oneself—is mirrored in the lyrics. And even more importantly, the band donated all of its pre-sales of this album to its personal relief efforts in Haiti.