Meeting of the Spirits - Mahavishnu McLaughlin & Jimmy Herring Tear It Up!

"...There exists in the East a legand which relates that God made a statue of clay in His own image, and asked the soul to enter into it. But the soul refused to enter into this prison, for it's nature is to fly about freely, and not be limited and bound to any sort of captivity. The soul did not wish in the least to enter this prison. Then God asked the angels to play their music and, as the angels played, the soul was moved to ecstacy. Through that ecstacy - in order to make this music more clear to itself - it entered this body." 

From Hazrat Inayat Khan's 'The Mysticism of Sound and Music'  

Last Wednesday I had the extreme pleasure of seeing two of my guitar hero's share the same stage. The event was called, 'Meeting Of The Spirits: John McLaughlin and Jimmy Herring recreate the tunes of the Mahavishnu Orchestra'. This may have been one of if not the very best concert I can recall seeing and hearing in my 57 years on this planet. This is a big statement and some of my good musical friends wouldn't let me say this without some proof. So I decided to write a brief review. Not about the actual tunes played, but what made this performance so special. 

The format had Jimmy Herring and his band, The Invisible Whip open the show with a set of their music. Then, John McLaughlin and his band, The 4th Dimension came out a did a full set of their music. The third set would then combine both bands and they would play tunes from the two classic Mahavishnu Orchestra albums, Inner Mounting Flame and Birds of a Fire. 

I have Three things that made this performance stand out as maybe one of the best shows I've ever seen and heard. Here they are in no particular order:

1. Musicianship - first and foremost, this one is a given, however in this situation it's probably the difference you might find between a $20 bottle of Pinot Noir and and a $300 one. Most people can not really tell the difference unless you are a wine connoisseur or in this case, a musical one. Mahavishnu could have selected any musician (guitarist) on the face of the planet - and he chose Jimmy Herring! One of the few guitarists that has the technical capability to play at the level of Mahavishnu was only the beginning. He also is able to honor the music and more importantly, develop solos that have something to add. Jimmy always has something to say, and that's saying something!

Maybe the 'Most Valuable Player' award goes to Jason Crosby (David Crosby's son) for the incredible work he did recreating the impossible violin solo's of Jerry Goodman. Also, his piano skills are out fu*king-standing!

Then there is Etienne MBappe on bass. I know great electric bass players, from Phil Lesh, to Jaco Pastorius, to Jack Cassidy to Stanley Clarke. This man played some of the craziest, but also lyrical, and warm solos that just stole my heart. His ability to channel his experience, life and soul through his bass was transformational. He captured the essence of what Mahavishnu was recreating from a time that caught 'lightning in a bottle'.

I have to give a special 'shout out' to Apt. Q258 - Jeff Sipe. This man may be the single best drummer I've ever had the pleasure of seeing and meeting! As Carlos Santana once said about Narada Michael Walden, I'll steal this and apply it to Jeff Sipe: Jeff "Is a 'Ballerina among drummers'. and he IS!

2. Historical Significance - I'll be the first one to admit that I know I'm late to this party, but like I like to say about myself: I'm a slow learner, but I CAN be taught. The importance of John McLaughlin and the Mahavishnu Orchestra to jazz fusion and contemporary jazz and world music is second to none. If you've never listened to Inner Mounting Flame or Birds of Fire, shame on you. If you don't know Shakti and any of their records, then you should by all means run (don't walk) and get one (if not all of them). You'll never listen to music the same way - ever again.

3. Live Music - The format was: Jimmy Herring and the Invisible Whip do the first set. Then Mahavishnu and the 4th Dimension do the second set. Finally the two bands do a 3rd set together. This is where the magic happened! They played some of the Mahavishnu Orchestra's most iconic and influential tunes. I'm embarrassed to admit that I don't know them well enough to able to list them out, but I'll say this: Mahavishnu played in spirit and vitality of what they were doing some 46 + years ago. 

As I've become familiar with this music, I'm in awe with what they created and now, what these musicians recreated.

What they did was akin to catching 'lightning in a bottle', and they did it with authenticity, creativity and aplomb. And My man Jimmy Herring was so in the pocket I cried. Numerous times.

I cried. Tears of ecstasy and joy.

How I got pulled into America's National Discussion On Race

Just this week, I was sitting in my easy chair, sipping on my morning coffee reading my paper on my IPad and I notice I have a message in my Facebook Messenger. It's from someone I don't know. It turns out to be the admin from one of the music fan Facebook Pages I follow. She was letting me know that someone reported me for making a racist remark in one of my posts.

I froze in my chair. I've never made a racist remark in my entire life! Or so I thought. Now I'm being accused of making a racist remark on a band page - my favorite band on the planet - that also happens to have six African American members! She went on to say that she didn't think I did this on purpose and was willing to give me the benefit of the doubt. I don't recall what the post was about, but I do know I was referring to something or someone I hadn't seen or heard in a long time, and I was trying to be folksy and I used the phrase, "in a coon's age". 

As someone who makes their living selling books, I literally sell words. I'm also an aspiring writer who knows that words are very powerful and can hurt as much as they can heal and make you laugh. 

I'm very careful to insure that the words I choose mean what I think they mean and I do often look up definitions or the etymology of those in question. Well in this case it never occurred to me that this phrase, which was used back in the early 1800's as a reference to living a long time, would or could ever be construed in a racially derogatory, hateful, and disrespectful manner. Oh how naive I was! 

I was just unwittingly and uncharacteristically thrown into America's deeply divided, troubled and emotionally raw racial dialogue. My first reaction was one of anger. I know the origins of this phrase and I used it correctly. I wanted to strike back and defend myself forcefully telling this person they are wrong! 

Then I got to thinking about something I often feel when I see and hear it in TV interviews, news articles and on social media. 

It goes something like this: If you have to defend something you said that someone else thinks is racist by arguing why you aren't a racist, you just lost your argument. So I figured I'd start here. 

Instead of lashing out emotionally, I decided to do some research, and sure enough I quickly found the evidence. Although I knew that the word 'coon' had been co-opted from it's original meaning, 'raccoon', in the early 1800's to mean a disparaging and highly offensive term for black people, however, from the best I can tell, it never had that same meaning when used in the phrase, '...in a coon's age' by Americans at that time or even today. In England they used the term crow, as 'in a crow's age' and still do. 

It NEVER occurred to me that anyone would interpret it this way so I had nothing to make me question it's use. Until NOW. The very fact that anyone would interpret this in a way that is ugly, offensive, hurtful, insulting or disrespectful is enough for me. I immediately apologized and told the admin that I am deeply troubled and sorry if I made anyone in the group feel uncomfortable or worse, offended and insulted by my naivete. I won't use that term or phrase again.

This really got me thinking about my own upbringing and how my opinions, views, and feelings on race were formed. No one is born a racist. Racism is taught, plain and simple. My family lived in a white, middle-class suburb just north of Chicago. There were no people of color in my neighborhood, or school for that matter. My only real exposure to a multi-cultural experience was going to school with Jewish kids and getting invited to Bar and Bat Mitzvah's and having to put the funny looking hat on my head.  My only exposure to black kids was when we went downtown on field trips and my all white bus would pull up to their all black bus and we'd stare at each other as we waited in lines.

I remember vividly when my Uncle Willie would visit us in the mid to late 1960's with the racial unrest throughout the country, and especially in Chicago, which was only 20 miles away from us, but it might as well have been on the other side of the world as far as I knew. 

He would be into his 3rd or 4th Boiler Maker and we'd all be watching the violence and protests on the 6:00pm news (which was happening daily at that time) and, like clockwork he would start his racist rants calling the participants 'jagaboos' and 'spear chuckers', and of course the 'N' word. Always the 'N' word. It seemed like the adults just laughed (mostly at him), but they didn't stop him, or shut him down. These rants were frequent, and not just by him. They got seared into my young, impressionable brain. 

My parents taught me NEVER to use these terms and to respect all people, however I got to see other things - behaviors, that were just as bad in both of them. My father and his peers (this is how this generation treated women) had a tendency to treat women as totally inferior people, with certain things that were 'beneath' men. Like changing a diaper, doing laundry, or the weekly grocery shopping to name a few. Then it came to work: "No wife of mine is going to work!"  Little did he know how hard she did work raising 7 children, with little help from him! He and his friends and their Country Clubs that wouldn't allow women into various places, positions or even on the golf course unless accompanied by another man. There seemed to be a little bit of Archie Bunker in all of them. Then there was my mother's snide little biting comments about the 'Pollocks' and 'Chinamen' invading her town. And then some of my own siblings, and I'm sure me too, slamming all the 'Dot Heads' taking over the local businesses. Racism isn't just confined to any one race, culture, or people. It seemed OK to say these things. 

As I became more socially and politically aware, I was repulsed and embarrassed about their (and sometimes my) behavior. I worked very hard to try and rid myself of that sort of thinking, and what I learned is that it is so deeply ingrained into my brain that to this day I hear the voices saying those awful things and I have to consciously always be thinking about how to keep it buried. I'm hyper-conscious about this and that's what bothers me so much about this recent experience.


Am I racist? Are we all racist? If the answer to this is yes, what can we do about it?

I have an idea and thought: After much soul searching, I've come to the conclusion that neither you or I get to determine what someone else thinks is offensive, insulting, or disrespectful. Just because I used this phrase correctly and didn't mean to offend anyone with it, doesn't mean I didn't offend, upset or disrespect someone with my words. 

Another example I'll mention is one that is all around me here in the Deep South: the rebel battle flag. When I lived up north as a teenager, I embraced this in my love of Southern Rock because many of my favorite bands used it as a symbol of that rebel music and I didn't understand any of the history of it. When you grow up north of say, Tennessee, they don't spend much time on this in our history courses. Since living in the Deep South I learned that, unlike the etymology of the phrase I used, this symbol always did represent oppression of an entire race, however many, many Southerners define the symbol as one that represents their Southern Heritage. It deeply, and rightly so offends most African Americans regardless of what Southerners believe. 

I agonized over this, and whether I should even try and write about it. I ran it by some dear and trusted friends and family for their input. My dearest and one of my closest friends made one very important suggestion: Just because you might be offended by something I said, it doesn't let you off the hook of why you took offense over it. He pointed out that ignorance on the part of the reader doesn't automatically make me wrong for using the English language correctly and without racial malice or intent, which is what I did. Dialogue means a conversion between two or more people. If anyone is offended by something I say, write or do, let's discuss it.


There are many people who are merely looking for a fight in this era of fake news and politicians lying through their teeth playing fast and loose with facts, statistics, figures and the truth. Ignorance and lack of education doesn't figure into their thinking or reasoning. These people don't get a hall pass here, nor am I suggesting that they do, can, or will.

Here's the morale of my chautauqua: If what we say, write or do comes across as offensive to others, regardless of whether we think it is, we all need to carefully think through what it is we are trying to say. It's really that simple, but not easy. If more people would think about how their words can obfuscate the message, rendering the receiver unwilling or unable to hear it, then maybe, just maybe we could start having meaningful discussions around race, cultural diversity and basic human rights. Dialogue requires two or more people talking to each other.

As Rodney King once so famously said, "Can't we all just get along?"

I'd love to hear your comments, tales, and/or stories regarding your experience. 

A Special 'old school' Chicago Christmas Memory

"Silver bells, silver bells

It's Christmas time in the city

Ring-a-ling, (ring-a-ling) hear them ring (ting-a-ling)

Soon it will be Christmas day

City sidewalks, busy sidewalks

Dressed in holiday style

In the air there's a feeling of Christmas

Children laughing, people passing

Meeting smile after smile

And on every street corner you hear"

Although I was born in Chicago, I actually grew up in a suburb just north of the city, Morton Grove. When I was a little boy in the early 1960's there was a very special treat that my brothers and sister occasionally received. I didn't get downtown very often, however my Grandpa Berrafato worked downtown as a barber at Marshall Fields on State Street. For me there was no more magical time of the year than Christmas, and there are few places as spectacular as the Magnificent Mile in Chicago dressed in it's finest holiday greenery.

Few cities in the United States have as rich an architectural history as Chicago, or as special. One of those spectacular buildings was built in 1907 on State Street. It was built by Marshall Field, and became known as the largest department store in the world at the time. The history of this building is legendary, however there are a couple of things that will always stand out to me in my memory.





First, the iconic clock that would stand guard on the corner of State Street and Washington. This would become the meeting place for people downtown, "Meet me under the Clock at Marshall Fields!".

Second, this store had the largest Tiffany glass ceiling in the world! This work of art covers 6,000 square feet and comprises 1.6 million pieces of iridescent glass.

The dome was designed by renowned artist Louis Tiffany (it's the largest Tiffany mosaic in existence) and was crafted by 50 artisans who worked atop scaffolds for over 18 months to complete the project.

Finally, there is (it's still there!) the Walnut Room, with it's stunning Circassian Walnut paneling (installed over 100 years ago) and it's extraordinary Austrian chandeliers. This was the first restaurant in a department store and is also the longest continuously-operating restaurant in the nation. It opened in 1907 as the South Tea Room and in 1937 became known as the Walnut Room. Each year, a 45 foot tall tree, known as the Great Tree, adorns the restaurant from late November to early January and sets the space aglow with 15,000 lights and over 1,200 themed ornaments. Magnificent to behold!

Walnut Room

This is where my story begins. Because I had so many siblings (there is seven of us!), Grandma had to take us out in small groups. The tradition was, each year she'd take some of us downtown to visit Grandpa at work, then we'd all go to the Walnut Room for lunch. Some of us got Christmas, as others got Easter. For me, it was Christmas that captured my imagination.

We'd take the train in the morning to the Loop, and 'window shop' for a bit. Then we'd visit Grandpa at his hair studio. After meeting his colleagues, he'd take us to the Walnut Room for lunch.

Afterward we'd walk him back to work, then it was off to the Toy Department where Grandma would buy us each a toy! We'd then get on the train and head home. What a spectacular day! I'd look forward to this all fall!

Imagine my delight when my Aunt Elaine was able to bring my daughter Tess and her boyfriend Brian downtown this weekend to see the famed Walnut Room! It made me tear up with this wonderful memory!



What is your special holiday memory?  

Why Has Election Day Made Me So Angry?

"R-E-S-P-E-C-T

Find out what it means to me

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

Take care, TCB"

Like so many of us, I've been thinking long and hard about this recent election and I'm just still angry as hell. So angry in fact, that I've barely been able to even discuss this even among friends. Although like many of us who have been trying to figure out what happened, the question I've been focusing on is this: where is this deep seated, visceral, and overwhelming anger inside of me coming from? 

Facebook, Twitter, and the 24/7 news cycle has shown me the full spectrum of human emotion this week, and not just from the United States, but from around the world. It's never been more clear that the whole world is watching us. 

 

I think I want to take a giant step back, and really do some soul searching. Instead of getting all political and rehashing everything we already know (and frankly, no one wants to relive) I want to explore my own anger. 

You see, the more I think about it, the more I'm coming to the conclusion that it's not so much coming from the fact we elected Donald Trump as our next president, but rather we elected a horrible, miserable, hateful, revengeful, spiteful, ugly, selfish and disrespectful human being. The most egregious being the disrespectful part. 

What does respect have to do with it? Well, I would argue everything actually. You see, in my book respect, integrity, and character are all that matter. My wife and I raised two beautiful, smart, funny, rambunctious, and strong-willed girls. 

We made plenty of mistakes, however we learned early on that we had to be united, consistent, and fair in laying down some basic rules and guidelines. 

Through trial and error, we came to agree on three rules that were non-negotiable, and everything else was. Here are the three: 1. Health - you will bathe, sleep, eat properly, take your medicine when necessary, and brush your teeth every day. 2. Education - you will go to school; you will do your homework, and you will finish high school (at the minimum). 3. Respect - You will respect yourself and others. Plain and simple. No exceptions.  

It's this third one I want to talk about, because this is the one that Mr. Trump has violated in the most spectacular, outrageous, and egregious way. I never paid any attention to this man until he entered this election, and then I had no choice. 

He forced us to pay attention. What we witnessed over an 18 month period is some of the worst, most childish, most mean spirited, but mostly just disrespectful behavior any of us have ever seen or experienced. He has said and done some of the most hurtful and disrespectful things any public figure - in the history of the world - has ever done. And he made sure it was all captured on camera or audio. 

I wouldn't tolerate this level of disrespect from my children or yours. I wouldn't tolerate it from my family, friends, coworkers, or even strangers. I certainly am not going to tolerate it from the president of the United States either. Neither should you. 

Respect is something you earn. The office of the President of the United States comes with a great deal of respect. The person who occupies that position does not. This person has to earn respect. 

This is why I'm so angry. Of all the monumental challenges Mr. Trump will face in this new position, perhaps earning our respect may be his greatest one.

Mr. Trump, it's your turn.  

A Remarkable Man, A Remarkable Life

I lost my last surviving uncle last week when he lost his battle with cancer. Uncle Tom O’Toole is married to my mom’s little sister, Elaine. They live in Phoenix, and have all their adult lives. I want to share a couple of wonderful memories of this great man. Before I do, I think it’s important to shed some background on my aunt by way of her family.  

The Senini’s, John and Alco were immigrants who came to Chicago to start their family. They had four children: Ed, Irene, Jack and Elaine. I’m not exactly sure of the dates, the order, or the reasons, but sometime in the 1950’s they all moved out west to parts in Arizona and started or raised their families (Grandma and Grandpa and Ed, who had seven children, in Yuma, and Jack, who had four, and Elaine who had four with Tom in the Phoenix area). 

Everyone accept my mom. She married Gabriel Berrafato and stayed in Chicago where all the other Berrafato’s were. I’m one of seven Berrafato children.

Aunt Elaine and Uncle Joe - Mark's Christening

One of the things I remember as a young boy growing up in the early 1960’s was that plane travel was really special, exotic even. I thought only rich or famous people could jet around the country. It was always a rare, special event when there was a ‘Senini sighting’ in Chicago back then. It also always meant there was going to be a party! I always associated my Aunt Elaine and Uncle Tom with good times (and I still do!) 

Elaine is my God mother and her husband, Uncle Tom both hold a special place in my life. He married me! Er, well, I mean he married Cristin and me. See Uncle Tom is also a retired Superior Court Judge.

Judge O'Toole and the proud Father-In-Law, Jules

When I asked Cristin to marry me we were living in Milwaukee, all my family was in the Chicago land area, and Cristin’s family was in the Phoenix area. After many, um, spirited conversations about the wedding it became apparent that no matter what we did, we were going to be unable to please both our families so we came up with an idea. Knowing Uncle Tom is a judge in Arizona, I asked him if he did marriage ceremonies. Imagine my incredible delight when he said yes! He loves to do these! So we began making plans for a small ceremony at Cristin’s parent’s Cave Creek home. 

Two things you need to know about my uncle: first, he’s a great athlete and second, he’s a huge sports fan (with allegiance to his beloved Notre Dame). When Cristin and I selected our wedding day, we unknowingly chose April 2, which also happened to be the second round of NCAA playoffs in 1988. The good judge said something like, “…I’m happy to marry you two, but not until after the game!” This was not well received by the mothers of the bride and groom (or his wife), however what choice did we have? If memory serves me correct, he was pleased when his Wildcats won, however the natives were getting restless. The ceremony was beautiful and everyone had a great time. I’m also pleased to report that Cristin and I are going on 29 years of wedded bliss so it really boosted the good Judges' wedding success stats!

The evening before Annie and Paul's wedding

The other quick story is back at the height of my running days, I was probably running five to seven miles almost daily and at a pretty good clip. I don’t recall the date, but one day during a visit to my in-laws I asked Uncle Tom if he’d like to run with me. He said sure, but I need to ‘take it easy on him’ because he was playing golf earlier that day. Well, we get out and it immediately became apparent that I was in trouble. Tom buried me! The only thing more humiliating than being killed by a guy 20 years older than me was his offers to stop and rest, which was clearly aimed at me.  

From 2004 or so to today, I was fortunate to spend much time in Phoenix on business and was able to get to know both my Aunt and Uncle well. Two finer people don’t exist and I’m so fortunate to have them in my life. Uncle Tom, you will be missed; however yours was a life well lived. You did right by your wife, children, and family. You honored your profession, and you upheld justice and the constitution for the most vulnerable amongst us. Your faith is strong, and it has guided you well. 

Godspeed Uncle Tom. Godspeed. 

Where Are You On Your Journey and What Are You Doing About It?

I recently received an e-mail from my rental car company which I didn't think much of until I opened it. I was expecting a promo offer of some sort, but instead what I saw was a dashboard telling me: How many times I rented cars from them in 2015; Where I rented; How many days I had the car; How many Frequent Rental Points I had and how many I used, so on and so forth. Welcome to the era of data analytics. Unless you've been living under a rock (or are part of my fathers generation - he's 87 and still can't figure out how to open his e-mail on his IPhone) you know that everyone is tracking what you do these days. Very Orwellian in many ways, but it is the way of the world as long as you are 'on the grid'.


As I was contemplating the new year and where I've been, this got me thinking a bit about myself and my life. As I begin 2016, I'm thinking maybe it would be beneficial for each of us to take advantage of all this data that is now available. Professionally, my company is still going to focus on content, however my clients are asking us for more tools to help them assess their students so they can intervene before they fail, not merely doing damage control after they fail. Sounds like a good idea right?


This is a good time to look at where we are on our life journey. Let's look back to where we were. When is the last time you did this? Often I think we get so focused on the 'problem of the day' that we fail to see the big picture of what we have already accomplished. One small, but poignant example for me is my bike riding. I've only been riding since February of 2012, however I use an app called Strava. This allows me to track both my running and cycling workouts. When I look back, mostly what I see is pretty unimpressive: I don't ride that far, and certainly never very fast. I know I live in a hilly area, but have no idea how much climbing I do.

Here's what Strava tells me:


* In 2015 I rode 2,778 miles. This is the distance from Atlanta to Seattle. I could have rode my bike to Seattle!
* I climbed 112,533 feet. This would be a 22 mile climb - basically I climbed almost to the outer bounds of the earth's stratosphere!
* I rode over 247 hours. This is basically equivalent to riding for 11 straight days without stopping.

http://2015.strava.com/video/IJ4koEF

See what data analytics can tell you? I think it's really important for all of us to be able to see our accomplishments in context of the bigger picture. When we look back at something, rarely do we ever see the bigger picture. Small and seemingly unremarkable accomplishments sustained over long periods of time reveal huge and very significant accomplishments.


This year we have an opportunity to apply this way of thinking and measuring our success to some very important aspects of our lives. Here are a couple suggestions:

1. Your Relationships
2. Your Health
3. Your Work & Finances





Take some time to look back at these. Are you where you want to be? Do you know why? These are important questions, because until you can answer them, you'll be unable to change your course and do something about it.

The second two are pretty easy to track: For your health, get a Fitbit, use apps like Strava and LoseIt! to start generating data for your exercise and diet. For your finances, most banks now have financial tools to help you budget your money and track your net worth.

Now for the important one, your relationships. This is far more qualitative and subjective. This may actually be the most important one because it will likely be the motivation for you to get your arms around the other two (see what I did there?). Use a journal app like Penzu to get a benchmark on where you are with your relationships. Be honest with yourself. Here is a link to a blog post I wrote that talks about the three types of relationships in each of our lives (thanks to Hank Henley for sharing the TD Jakes sermon!):

http://markbears.blogspot.com/2011/11/rule-of-three-theres-song-dickey-betts.html

Where are you in your life journey? Are you where you want to be? 

What are you going to do about it? 

I really want to know! 

Why I ride my bike - and why you might want to as well

"Bicycle bicycle bicycle

I want to ride my bicycle bicycle bicycle

I want to ride my bicycle

I want to ride my bike

I want to ride my bicycle

I want to ride it where I like" - Freddy Mercury - Queen

When I was a little boy growing up in a northern suburb of Chicago, I was one of 6 boys in my family. Being the 4th youngest, I always seemed to get my share of hand-me-downs, however one thing my dad always did was made sure we all had our own bikes. See, this was the only mode of transportation for us in those days. Although we all got drivers licenses as soon as we could, noone had their own car (and even if my dad could afford to buy us each one, he never would have even considered it because, well, that's just who he was and how he raised us). 

We rode our bikes everywhere! School, to the store, to friends houses, to work (we all caddied at Glenview Country Club) and of course just out playing everyday we could. Eddie Vedder (yes, that Eddie Vedder :-) lived just down the block from us and he and my brother Chris were good friends and would play together, riding bikes and getting into all sorts of trouble. They are still friends to this day. Every Pearl Jam concert in Chicago Eddie leaves 4 tickets for Chris at the box office. At one of the last shows, in between songs he gave Chris a 'shout out', telling a story about how he and Chris used to terrorize the neighborhood on their Schwinn Stingrays. It was pretty cool!  

One of my favorite things to do when I got paid from my caddy job: I'd get my backpack, hop on my bike and ride to my favorite record store, Record City, in Skokie, I'd bee-line it to the 'cut out' bin in the back of the store and I'd rummage through every single album in the bin. These were basically records the store had deeply discounted to get rid of them. They were identified by having the left edge of the cover cut off. They were usually $1, so I could buy 10 for the $10 spot I had burning a hole in my pocket. If all I found was 1 or 2 songs I liked on one of these I considered it a score. I quickly built my record collection this way. Today, I have over 3000 vinyl records and still play them!  

One of the best summer jobs I've ever had involved my bicycle. It was the summer of 1979 and my sister, who was and still is the Administrative Assistant to the Chief of Police in Morton Grove, told me about a cool new summer job that the department was rolling out. It was called the 'Bicycle Patrol' and it involved a handful of 'bicycle patrol people' riding the streets and bike trails in Morton Grove promoting bike safety. I applied and got the job. For three glorious months that summer I got paid to ride my bike all day long! Best. Job. EVER! (Ironically, none of us wore helmets). 

I didn't have a car when I went to college, however I did have my bike. I rode it everywhere in the small town of Gunnison, Colorado. The problem I had there was that it was in the mountains and 8 months out of the year there was snow up to my ying yang and it was cold as a wiccan's bosom (with apologies to all my wiccan friends - you know who you are!). I would ride to class often bundled head to toe with winter clothes, only to have to change into a tee shirt putting everything else into my backpack for the afternoon ride home. It was crazy.

Enough reminiscing, let's fast-forward to today. I started running my junior year of high school in 1977. I started in order to lose weight and get into shape. It didn't take me long to really find my stride (see what I did there?) and quickly escalated my mileage to where I was running between 5 to 8 miles a day. Well, I quickly lost tons of weight and got down to a svelte 160 pounds. The best part was the 'runners high' I became addicted to. This is very real and real good! I kept running through college and into my 30's, and 40's. However around my 50th birthday my arthritic knees and bad back got so bad that my running days were coming to an end. This is when I decided to try cycling to alternate my workouts. I started with a mountain bike, and worked up to a road bike. Besides the physical benefits of riding, maybe the best part is what happens to you mentally and emotionally. You get the benefits of endless endorphin's washing over your brain and body, but the sense of vitality, endurance, freedom, and the sheer power of your own body is not only exhilarating; it's transcendent!  

My whole point in writing this today is that I want to clear up any misconceptions of why I ride my bike and what you're missing if you aren't riding yours. I ride to feel the wind in my face. I ride to get exercise. I ride to get away from the stress and strain that is my life. I ride because it makes me feel so alive. You'd be so surprised, shocked even, how quickly the transformation happens. 

I ride because it makes me feel like a kid again.