A Eulogy for Pop

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DSC_0105

A year ago today, eight days after his death, my father was laid to rest. Yes, I said eight days, not the normal two or three like everyone else due to a trying ordeal with the cremation folks. But, similar to most situations with Pop, things didn’t always go as planned. In any event, I was blessed enough to give the eulogy that day and I’d like to share it with all of you today. I know I didn’t read this word for word, but this is what I had written down. Rest in Peace Pop.

First of all, I’d like to thank Father Tom for being here today. You knew my dad for a long time and there’s nobody else that the family and I would have wanted here today so again, I thank you sir. And not just for today, but for everything you’ve done for my father throughout the years. He was truly blessed to have a friend like you in his life.

I’d also like to thank everyone for being here today. I look around this room and I am flooded with memories. Biff, you were his best friend in the world and the memory of you and him and all of the times our families spent together over the years always puts a smile on my face.

And that’s just who Dad was. He always wanted people to smile. And even more so, he always wanted to make someone laugh, even if he looked completely ridiculous in the process. Even in the last year of his life, we went to Confetti and bought a blowup doll for his room. And he would talk to it and cuddle with it if he knew the nurses would be coming into his room just to see the look on their face, just to make them laugh and brighten their day just a little bit. I was talking with a member of the staff at Fondulac just the other day and she knew that the nursing home just wouldn’t be as fun without Dad around.

And there are many, many stories like that about him. One that always sticks out to me was when I was about 8. Dad had lost the hand about a year before and had finally decided to just own it. God had granted him the serenity to accept the things he couldn’t change so he just started using it as a tool for jokes. So he and I go to the grocery store. We had a pretty decent cart load so we start putting things on the conveyor belt and you could just see the little light bulb go on. So he just looked at me and simply said “Watch this.” The cashier couldn’t have been older than 17 and she’s just ringing everything through. So he turns around and takes off his first prosthesis and puts it up there with everything else and the look on this girl’s face was priceless. She looks at it and looks at me. I don’t know what the hell to do so she looks at Dad and he is doubled over laughing hysterically. And I bet that this girl probably still tells that story 25 years later.

That’s the effect that he had on people, even if the instance wasn’t a funny one. I remember coming back from my grandmother’s apartment. There’s a steep hill leaving her place and a guy had fallen off of his bike and was banged up pretty badly. He had no idea where he was, where he lived or anything. Dad had gotten out of the car and held this poor man and just talked to him, trying to make him remember anything at all until the ambulance arrived.

Another that sticks out is again from my youth. I was sledding with some buddies at the hill next door and I watched a kid get hit in the mouth with one of those big, heavy wooden toboggans. It completely separated his jaw but he was able to let out the loudest scream I think I’ve ever heard. Well, Dad heard it too from next door and in zero degree weather comes out in shorts, a T-shirt and his bare feet and he runs down this hill, picks up this kid he’s never met. The kid is bleeding all over him but he doesn’t care. He runs through the snow into our house and takes care of him like he’s his own until his parents and the EMT’s show up.

It’s stories and moments like that that can define a person and can make a difference in how you look at somebody and it’s things like that that I’d forgotten until recently because let’s be honest here, the old man certainly had his faults. He made a lot of mistakes that hurt a lot of people, including myself. And it’s always easier to focus on the bad things in life than acknowledging the good ones. And it’s a pain that I held onto for way too long and it nearly killed me. It made me a very bitter and angry person and I know that’s not who he wanted me to be. And it’s not the way I want to live my life. So I’ve been able to let go of that anger because I started to open myself up to the good stuff and really remember all the good things that he had done, things I had forgotten about, no matter how mundane. Watching him have foot races with Kimberly in every single parking lot we were ever in. Building a very detailed train set for my brother because the old one was just too simple or building me a new ring for my little wrestlers because Hulk Hogan had slammed Andre the Giant one too many times through the plastic WWF one from the store and countless other things like that, small things that add up over time to make a life worth remembering.

But I think what I will take with me the most is how much fight my father had in him. Life overall is a fight but his was insane. Most of you know his past so I won’t even get into that, but you all know how hard he fought to put the things he had done behind him and move forward to try and be a good husband, a good father, and a good man. And sometimes when he fell short, he fought for years to try and make things right.

For those who don’t know, my father had a daughter from his first marriage. Her name is Patti and she is here with us today. After 40 years, he fought to revive that relationship and he succeeded in doing so. Patti, if you didn’t already know, he loved you very much and was so happy to have you back in his life and I’m glad that you got to know him a little bit and I was honored to share that moment with the two of you.

And then there’s his fight physically. OH MY GOD! The things that this man went through in his life. They say a cat has 9 lives. I think Dad got about 50. I think we can all agree that what we’re doing today should have happened a long time ago. He lost fingers then had them reattached but didn’t think that was painful enough so four years later, he decided just to take the whole damn hand off. Two heart surgeries, multiple types of cancer, addiction and the thing that really should have killed him a few years ago was the fire. He laid in a hospital for four months, endured five more surgeries, and basically asked death “Is this all you’ve got? Because I’m not ready to go just yet.”

And that led to the most inspirational moment I’ve ever witnessed. After the fire, the doctors told him that there was a good chance that he may never walk again, but he fought and fought through months of grueling physical therapy and when the day came, he stood up, oxygen tank and all, and walked Kimberly down the aisle on her wedding day. My brother and I looked at each other in amazement as he stood tall and proud as he walked alongside her. And believe me, my sister was not the only one in tears at that moment. Honestly, anyone in that room who wasn’t crying just doesn’t have a soul.

And that’s the legacy he will leave behind. Life is going to knock you down over and over again. It’s whether you choose to get back up that makes all the difference. And he chose to get back up time and time again. To reconnect with Patti, to walk Kimberly down the aisle and meet his grandson Patrick, to help me become a better man and meet his granddaughters Ashlyn and Brooklyn, to watch Matt be who he’s gonna be and become one of the strongest men that I know. His legacy is firmly cemented in this family and it will live in all of us and it lives with all of you as well.

And that’s how he knew it was okay to go. For those who don’t know, Dad died very peacefully. He knew it was time and as I sat with him in his last moments, I knew he was ready and I whispered to him hoping he could hear me. “Just go Pop. We’ve got it from here.”

So to honor my father as you move forward in your own lives, just remember to keep getting back up. Remember to love. And always remember to laugh.

Rest in peace, Pop. You don’t have to fight anymore.

Five More Minutes With Pop

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Norris2008

Anyone that really knows me knows that there were many years that I didn’t see my father. Whether it was his choice when he left for the state of Washington for two years, or my choice when he went back to prison for almost two years when I was in my early twenties. There was a lot of time that I lost with him due to my own selfish pride, and for the past year there hasn’t been a day that’s gone by where I haven’t wished that I could just talk to him for five more minutes. The man only I called “Pop” died a year ago today, and I’ve been thinking all this week about what I would say to him, if only he were here.
I’d tell him that we’re all doing okay. That the past year has been excruciating and yet rewarding, sometimes all at once. That he would be so proud of the progress that Matthew has made. That he would be so proud of the wife and mother that Kimberly is. That her two sons, his grandsons Patrick and Dominic, are such amazing boys and will grow up to be great men. That Mom is the most amazing grandmother that anyone could ever ask for. That I’m keeping in touch with Patti because I know you would have wanted that. That Biff seems to be doing well. That my daughters, his granddaughters Ashlyn and Brooklyn, are getting so big and so smart and are the most amazing and beautiful little girls in the world. That I’m doing the best job that I can as a daddy, using many of the things that you taught to me. That I wish you could have met Ashlie. That you looked so peaceful as I watched you take your last breath that night. That I’m happy you’re no longer in pain. That the world isn’t as funny without you in it. That everyone loves and misses you like crazy. That I forgive you and hope you forgive me. That no matter what anybody else thought, I had a good father. That your memory will live on forever. That you’ll be with me until the day we meet again. That if we still have some time left in this five minutes, I just want to hug you until it’s over.

Aloha, Raul

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BlueSaturday

I’ve always found it quite humorous how the term “friend” gets thrown around by people. I will say that I used to be guilty of it myself when referring to just about anybody that I knew. I’ve corrected this problem over the years by saying “a buddy of mine” or “this guy that hangs out at the bar” when I talk about certain people. It’s not that I dislike these people whatsoever, but to me the word “friend” should only be used when talking about a person who has been such an important part of your life that they have impacted your life in such a way that you consider them to be family. Thirteen years ago, I met such a person in my friend Raul Salazar.
When I first turned twenty-one, I would see this guy at the bars from time to time, as it seemed we knew a lot of the same people. So we’d hang out a little in a group and occasionally chat from time to time, but never did I realize that it was only the beginning of what would become a lifelong bond. After a year or so, we would hang out more and more without the group dynamic, whether it was watching wrestling or movies, or just having some drinks. As we all know, Raul didn’t have a license at this time, so if we were going somewhere it was me who did the driving and honestly, as far as our friendship goes, it may have been better this way. As time went by and our relationship grew from drinking buddies to actual friends, we would go out for a while and then I’d take him back to his house and we would just sit in his driveway for hours and hours, many times until the sun came up, and just have these epic talks about everything that was going on in our respective lives. I firmly believe it was these continuing talks that made us grow even further, from friends to brothers.
In late 2002, it was some of these talks that probably kept me from making even worse decisions than I was already making. My life wasn’t going so well and I will spare the details as this isn’t what this post is about, but at that point, along with others, Raul kept a watchful eye on me to make sure that I didn’t go off of the proverbial cliff, and for that I will always be thankful. As I’ve looked back on those times over the years, it amazes me to think that I once thought that I was alone going through all of what I did, but I now know that was never the case.
That next summer, I met the woman who would later become my wife and started to turn my life around, and in early 2004, I moved to Florida to be with her and I’ll never forget how hard it was to say goodbye to the people closest to me, especially those like Raul who had helped me through those dark days. That’s the reason why the next year, it was so special to me to have Raul standing there with me as I got married and started my new life. I would move back in 2006 and soon after, he was in the same boat that I had been in. Relationships would fail and for a while, I think he thought it was never going to happen for him, until Ele walked into his life and changed everything.
Now if I consider Raul to be my brother, then that would make Ele my sister-in-law but she’s one everyone would actually like, and I did from the start. I had the privilege of watching their relationship from the very beginning and there’s nobody else in the world that I would want him to be with. She infects you immediately with this big, beautiful smile that makes you think that everything can be wonderful and she is genuinely such a joy to be around. That’s why I was so humbled and honored to be asked to be the best man when they got married. As I stood there beside them that day, I realized how special their bond was and continues to be to this day, and I’ll forever be thankful that I was allowed to be a part of it. And perhaps even more so that when their lovely daughter Maya was born, I was asked to be her godfather, another honor so grand that words can’t describe how great that feeling was.
Just over six months later, my wife went into premature labor at our diaper party and Raul was right there as I freaked at the thought of my daughters being born so early. And it was Ele who was right there to drive us to the hospital. Five days later, my girls were born eleven weeks early and spent 44 days in the NICU. And every time I needed to get away from it all for a while, I knew I could call Raul to talk or grab a beer to calm myself.
It became harder and harder to hang out after that as we were both now fathers, but when we found the time, it was the same as it ever was. The conversations may have become a little different as talks shifted from wrestling and Michigan football to diapers and feedings and that was okay. It only went to show how far we had both come as men, from just drinking buddies to husbands and fathers. We would love the joyous occasions when our kids could get together and play and life seemed nearly perfect.
But then, as life does, more hiccups came. Both of our own fathers got really sick last year, and we would actually hang out in the hospital because they were both there at the same time. We would walk back and forth between their rooms or have dinner in the cafeteria just to talk things out until unfortunately I won a contest that nobody wanted to win. My marriage had fallen apart right around the same time my dad died and without people like Raul in my life, I would have been completely lost. That’s just what friends do for one another. They listen. They let you talk when you need to. They let you cry when you need to and I’m certainly not ashamed to say that Raul and I have cried to one another on more than one occasion. No judgment, no bullshit comments (unless it’s to get a laugh out of the other which is sometimes necessary), and no shame whatsoever.
For most that will actually read this, then you know that just a couple of days ago, the Salazars picked up and moved to Hawaii. They’d been talking about it for a while and it really wasn’t supposed to happen as quickly as it did, but everything seemed to fall into place about six weeks ago and they decided to just go ahead and do it. When life presents you an opportunity like that, you take it and don’t look back. I’ll never regret leaving for Florida when I did because of what I got out of it. No, my marriage didn’t last but I got two beautiful daughters out of it so I’ll never second guess my decision to go. And who knows what kind of opportunities await the Salazars in this amazing journey they’ve just started, which is why I will never be upset that they chose to leave. The reason I chose to sit down and write this was not to say goodbye to my friend, but to remember all of the great times that we all had together while they were here. But most of all, it was just to express exactly how much I’m going to miss my friend. Everyone that knows Raul has their own opinion and their own view and that’s fine. Whether you know Raul the cook or Raul the wrestler, or Raul…err Sinnister the DJ, I’m proud to say that I know Raul the person and he’s a good one to know.
I could go on and on and on (as I know I already have), but to sum up, here’s what we’ve gone through. Some of the lingo you may not understand, but he and I will. It’s been batting cages, Becatron 2000, Mania, Ann Arbor (or Ypsi…because that’s what we call it), Liki Tiki and two of your finest Caucasians (great…um, what’s a Caucasian?), and everything World. But more importantly, it’s been about friendship, brotherhood, being part of each other’s families, our children, and a bond so strong that it doesn’t matter what side of the ocean he’s on.
“Aloha” can mean many things. It can mean “hello” or “goodbye” but is very commonly used to express love. And this is how I use it today. Not to say goodbye, but to say how much I love Raul, Ele, and Maya. Aloha, my friends. I know I’ll see you again…on this side or the other.

Remember Sports?

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Do you remember what sports used to be? Two teams would play. One would win and one would lose. Unless you’re watching two soccer clubs battle to an exhilarating 0-0 draw, which if this is the case, you have too much time on your hands as it is. I would turn on Sportscenter and watch highlights for 90 minutes on a Sunday night or flip on ESPN Radio and listen to all of the reasons why Michigan v. Ohio State is such a big deal. Sports has always been such a nice getaway from real world problems. Sure, you’d get the occasional story that happened off the field, but the problem now is that these types of stories are no longer rare, but expected and sadly typical of the sports world we now live in.
Look at what the most recent run of “sports” stories has given us. This is about the time of year that pennant races in baseball start to heat up. The questions of who will win the division or grab the final wild card spot would dominate baseball conversations. During these dog days of summer, I listen to talk of Biogenesis. I was never naïve enough to think that the steroid era in baseball was over, but it was nice to have time off from Bonds, Sosa, and McGwire. It seemed that the young crop of stars was on the up and up and baseball had turned a corner. Then this story breaks and all I get to listen to is what a liar and a cheater Ryan Braun is. Great. Suspend him and move on. I don’t need to listen to it for two weeks. And don’t get me started on Alex Rodriguez. He’s been pulling the wool over baseball’s eyes for a decade (allegedly). Quick fix here. Just kick him out of baseball and move on so I can just go back to whining about how the Red Sox are playing the Yankees on national television, AGAIN!
Hey, did you know that most college football teams have started their practices and football that matters is only a few weeks away? Of course you don’t, because somebody just posted a picture of Johnny Football drinking the last Zima in America while flashing a wad of daddy’s oil money at an OTB in South Dakota. Or maybe it wasn’t daddy’s money this time, as he’s now under investigation for taking money to sign some autographs for a memorabilia broker. And while this may be somewhat of a story as he is the reigning Heisman trophy winner, talking for a month about him attending a frat party at rival Texas isn’t. And the next month of speculation on what the punishment will be for a future NFL third-string quarterback is something that I’m not prepared to handle.
Finally, of course, we are about a month away from the start of the NFL regular season. But instead of spending the majority of the time leading up to the games talking about how each team will fare this season, we’ve had to listen to talk of Aaron Hernandez possibly murdering multiple people. Or the most recent story of Eagles wide receiver Riley Cooper getting caught on video using the “N” word at a Kenny Chesney concert. I’m actually starting to miss Tim Tebow talk. At least if we had to hear about anything off the field with him, it was probably a story of how he saved a cat from a tree, went to take it in to the little old lady it belonged to, saw she was dying, picked her up and carried her eight blocks to the hospital, and then performed the life-saving surgery himself. At least I could feel good about a story like that.
I just want to go back to the days where my brother-in-law throws it in my face that once again, Ohio State is ranked ahead of Michigan. I want my friends to give me grief about how Tony Romo still can’t win the big one. I want to tell everyone that I lead a tortured life. Not because my team’s superstar was just suspended for using PEDs while murdering three people at a frat party in Texas, but because the Cubs just got swept at home again. At least this way, my sports world still makes sense.

Divinity

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I was thinking today that 2013 is the 10th anniversary of my first publication. It was a poem that I wrote that got published in a poetry collection in 2003. Some of you have read it, but most haven’t. Hope you enjoy it.

DIVINITY

I think sometimes and I don’t understand
The belief simply known as God’s divine plan.
The span of eternity already foreseen
Each person a destiny, but what does that mean?
Because I look sometimes and I just don’t see
How divine it is to sleep in the street
Or to feel the pain, anguish and hurt
As a loved one is lowered into the dirt.
I listen sometimes to the cries and the screams
Of the children that suffer and just when it seems
That the pain is over and the agony slain
We lose again, through planning He gains.
Parents and children, this plan includes all
He even steals heroes as trade centers fall.
How far will it go? Does He even exist?
Do prayers really matter? Does the plan ever miss?
What if this plan of so-called divinity
Is the thing that created all of this sin in me?
If you wake up tomorrow, cherish your time
For your turn might be next, isn’t that divine?

My Favorite Bad Movies

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Okay, it looks like everyone that is going to chime in on the bad movie question has done so, and I must say I received some really good responses. My Con Air suggestion really inspired some people to say that was also one they couldn’t turn off. Beyond that, I’d have to say that the best responses were The Skulls which came from my buddy Greg. That’s a hard one to admit brother so kudos to you for having the stones to put that out there. My mother even contributed with Overboard (even I can’t sit through that-ask my ex-wife) and Save The Last Dance. Who doesn’t love a good story about a black guy and a white girl that lets dancing solve all of their problems for them? Good stuff Mama. Speaking of dancing, Step Up was also mentioned and I will admit that I do sometimes watch that when it’s on. Yeah, I said it. My favorite response, however, came from my buddy Clay who almost takes the title with Howard The Duck. And the only reason why that wouldn’t win a contest had I had one is that movie isn’t a bad movie, rather one of the best movies ever made. What are my favorite bad movies? I thought you’d never ask. But since you did, here is my countdown of bad movies that I just can’t seem to get away from.

5. 8 Seconds

Sorry, but this movie is great. Granted, I may like Luke Perry more than most, but his portrayal of legendary bullrider Lane Frost was pretty solid. Even if Stephen Baldwin had to come along for the ride.

4. Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure

I don’t think I’ll get too many arguments on this one. Outside of the obvious comedic value, you get a little history lesson as well, which is nice.

3. Urban Cowboy

Some people wouldn’t even consider this to be a bad movie, but if you really think about how awful the acting is and the story itself, it is. But I don’t care. I love it. I own it. I watch it. Moving on…

2. Any Jean-Claude Van Damme movie up until 1994

Any of that straight to DVD garbage after Timecop I won’t watch, but give me No Retreat, No Surrender, Bloodsport, Kickboxer, Double Impact, Lionheart, or Universal Soldier and I’m good to go.

1. Demolition Man

Stallone. Snipes. Bullock (yes, I can even stand Sandra Bullock for once, but this is before she got overly famous and famously annoying). This movie is so awful that it’s phenomenal. It’s set in the future, it’s full of insanely cheesy one-liners, and it mixes the action with the comedy. And yes, I again watched it from start to finish on Monday night when it was on AMC. And it had the movie notes, which only enhanced the experience. Good stuff.

Thanks for all those who played along for this ridiculous post. Just wanted to have some fun, so I hope you enjoyed it. Talk to you again soon.

What is your favorite bad movie?

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     It’s been nearly a month since I’ve written anything and to be honest with you, the last piece I wrote about Angie seriously took a lot out of me. However, I’m very glad I wrote it and the response it received was amazing, especially from the Samuelson family themselves. So I thank all those that read it and passed along such kind words to me.

     On that note, I thought I’d go a little lighter for this one. With the holiday coming up, there are sure to be many movie marathons on many different channels and while driving today, I got to thinking about how many bad movies have actually been made, but how many of them I actually enjoy and can’t turn off when I come across them while flipping channels. Movies like ConAir or The Rock come to mind immediately (notice that Nicolas Cage is in a lot of movies like this). So to my loyal followers, I want to hear from you. What bad movies can you just never turn away from? Guys, can you get off the couch when movies like The Last Dragon come on? Yeah, I went there and no, I can’t either. Ladies, is your day delayed by a couple hours if you know Adventures in Babysitting is on? So let me know. Leave your comments below, or just message me on Facebook or tweet @THElukenorris and in a few days, I’ll post some of the best responses from my readers and let you know my favorites as well. Have fun with this one. Enjoy.

The Angie Experience

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Angie

Every now and again, a person comes into your life that changes it forever. One of those people came into mine when I was eleven. Her name was Angie Samuelson.
Angie and her family had moved into town from Iowa the summer before sixth grade. I remember seeing her for the first time on the first day of school that year and even then I didn’t think I had ever seen anyone so beautiful. She had the brightest blue eyes and the most wonderful smile and she instantly became a big topic of conversation for all the boys in school. I wish I could say that I remembered the first time we spoke but I don’t, but over that next year we became friends and as much as I wanted her to be my girlfriend, I never asked. I think just about every other boy in school did but she never said yes to anyone. In fact, she didn’t have a boyfriend at school until the seventh grade. It was December 3, 1991 and the lucky boy was me.

Honestly, it really couldn’t have come at a better time. My parents had recently divorced and I had spent a large amount of time feeling very sad, so when I finally got enough courage to ask Angie to be my girlfriend and she surprisingly said “yes”, I never thought I could feel so happy. Even at twelve I was a hopeless romantic, as I’m pretty sure it only took about a week for me to end one of our wonderful grade school phone conversations with “I love you”, which at twelve means “I really don’t have any idea what real love is, but I somehow want to tell you that I really, really like you.” I even went so far as to buy her a necklace for Christmas, because that’s what I thought you had to do for your girlfriend. But I didn’t want to buy her a cheap one, so I used all the money I had saved up from my paper route and had my mother take me to a real jewelry store so I could buy her something really nice. I remembered from one of our earliest conversations that her favorite color was purple so I decided to go with an amethyst. My mother tried to talk me out of spending so much money but I bought it anyway. We had a school dance a few days before Christmas and after spending a few minutes trying to get the box out of my pocket (no seriously, the box got stuck when I was trying to be slick about it and I spent three or four minutes in the middle of the gym during a slow song trying to get it out) I finally gave it to her. After her laughter subsided from my stumble, she did let me put it on her and gave me a small kiss on the cheek. It was one of my favorite days.

Over the next few months, we would do what “couples” in the seventh grade usually do. We would hang out for a few minutes after the basketball games or go to the movies. I distinctly remember our first movie date. We went with some friends to see “Father of the Bride” and then went next door to eat at Maid-Rite. It was another good day. She even reciprocated the jewelry gesture. I had gotten my ear pierced the previous summer (which her dad hated), so she bought me an earring for Valentine’s Day. But then disaster struck. She broke up with me. Oh my God, I thought my life was over. Looking back on it, the conversation that took place at that age was hysterical. Naturally, it happened at recess. And of course, she wouldn’t be the one to actually break up with me. It was her best friend Michelle who told me that Angie loved me, but just didn’t like me anymore. It’s amazing how adult we try to sound at that age when we really have no clue what we’re talking about. In any event, I was devastated. After I made a spectacle of myself and made sure that she saw me take out the earring and throw it on the ground, I spent the rest of recess and all of Mr. Moore’s science class bawling my eyes out. I kept it together for the rest of the day, but then went home and continued to cry and cry and cry. But what most people don’t know is that I spent an hour after school searching for the earring, which I never found, which just made things worse. My life was over (so dramatic).

As it usually happens in grade school, we both were “dating” somebody else within a month or so. Shockingly enough, those didn’t last either and the summer before eighth grade, we got back together. We actually did talk on the phone nearly every day for a while, but we really didn’t see each other that much and to exact a little revenge, I broke up with her a few days before school started back up. I know, quite the classy move. Shockingly enough, she got over it and throughout our eighth-grade year, we each had another significant other but we were able to become friends again and we would randomly hang out here and there. We even shared a wonderful dance at the graduation festivities and the picture below is one of my favorite pictures in the world.

AngieandLuke
As we entered high school, I think I realized that there was nobody I would ever want to date except for her, so I asked her to the homecoming dance our freshman year and she said that she would love to go with me. So I started to make plans for that evening, only to get a phone call from her about two weeks later telling me that she had to go to St. Louis that weekend with her family. Again, I was devastated. I think it was then that I realized that maybe the concept of being with her just wasn’t in the cards for me. I actually never asked another girl to a school dance again. But I always had her on my mind and that’s what high school became for me. So over the next four years, she simply became my best friend. I would rather just be her friend than not have her in my life at all. I watched her date other guys that I didn’t think were good enough for her or just didn’t make sense to me. I would date here and there and Angie and I would just talk to each other about those relationships or just talk sometimes for hours on the phone about anything. I was going through some tough times with my father and she would do her best to help me get through it. Sometimes, we would just go for a drive and she would tell me about what was going on in her life as well. That’s what friends do for each other and she was my best friend, even if I wasn’t hers.

Graduation day was on my eighteenth birthday and even with all the hoopla surrounding that day, she made it a point to wish me a happy birthday and that night at the lock-in, the two of us separated ourselves from everyone and just walked around the school talking about the past and what the future held. It was just another one of our classic talks and it was good to know that no matter how much things had changed for both of us, we would always be there for each other. And this continued into college. We both decided to go to Illinois State and our dorms were actually right next to each other. She was so cute her first night there. Her roommate was actually a mutual friend from high school and they were both very nervous about being away from home. I had gone to their room just to hang out for a while, but as I was about to leave, Angie asked if I would stay, so I did. She said she would feel better with me there, so I slept on the floor right next to her bed. For the next few months, we would hang out when we could. We were both dating other people, so we would do what we always did and talk to each other about the problems we were having. It was seemingly the same as it always was but it wasn’t. I had come to the realization that there was nobody in the world like her and the boyhood crush was gone. I was truly in love with her.

I think I’d known it all along, but I never wanted to admit it to myself, or anybody else for that matter. Even up to this moment, I’ve only actually told this to a handful of people. When it comes down to it, however, there was only one person that should have been told. But I never told her. I was so scared of what she would say or that I would lose her as a friend. I had gotten to a point in my life where I was so completely lost that I didn’t feel that I was good enough for her. She was doing so well in school, had joined a sorority, and seemed to have her whole life in order and I was just one big mess. I didn’t think there was any way that she could ever feel about me the way I felt about her. The only time I ever thought there was even a hint of a future came on one of our best nights together. We had gone for a drive and while we touched on a few things that were going on at the time, most of the time was spent remembering the old times from grade school. We talked about the dances and the breakups and all the fun we ever had back then and it was so wonderful. The kicker was when we began to talk about the necklace and I vividly remember her pulling back her hair so she could get to the necklace she was wearing and she actually had it on. I could not believe that after all of those years had passed, she had actually kept it. As I walked her up to her door, we were still talking about it and I told her how I remembered how she had kissed me on the cheek after I gave it to her. We then talked about how when we were “dating” in grade school that we had never even kissed each other on the lips. We laughed about it, I said good night and we hugged. I turned to walk away and even made it a few steps before I made myself turn back around and just go for it. Just once. She had turned to go inside so I simply said “Angie.” She turned and I don’t know if I’d ever seen anyone look as beautiful as she did at that moment. I asked if she was sure we had never kissed and she was certain of it so I walked up to her very slowly and put my hand on her cheek and we shared one soft kiss that will stay with me for the rest of my life. We looked in each other’s eyes, I said good night one more time and I left. We never spoke of it again.

The years passed and we would still see each other from time to time but nothing like the times we used to share. I would endure some hard times and went into a deep state of depression that lasted quite a long time and I knew that my window had passed. She had graduated by now and was starting her real life. I moved to Florida and Angie and I just lost touch. I didn’t know where she was or how she was doing and I never took the time to find her again. I would think about her often and wonder if I ever crossed her mind. I would tell myself that I was going to track her down just to say hello but I never did, even when I moved back from Florida. I had a different life now, one that didn’t have her in it, and I told myself I was okay with that. I was certain she was happy with someone and that’s how I justified it. If I was never going to be the one to make her happy, then I hoped that someone else had. I had moved on from believing I was ever going to really be with her, but I could never change the way I felt about her. I always knew I would see her again at some point in passing. Until I got that phone call.

I was sitting on my back patio and my cell phone rang. It was from my friend Maureen, another friend from grade school, and I figured she was just calling to catch up as we would chat from time to time. But what I heard next I was never prepared for. Angie had died. I sat in disbelief for a few minutes as Maureen explained to me about the cervical cancer that had taken my dear friend. She asked me if I would be okay and I remember some form of “no” coming out of my mouth before thanking her for calling and hanging up the phone as my head dropped into my hands as I began to cry uncontrollably. I simply could not comprehend what had just happened, and even to this day I still hope that at some point I will wake up and know that Angie is still here. That someone as kind, intelligent, funny, and beautiful as Angie didn’t have to go through what she did in the end. That her wonderful parents, Craig and Mindi, and her sisters, Laura and Sheena, don’t have to feel the hurt they do every day for the rest of their lives.

It was five years ago today that Angela Marie Samuelson was taken from this world and it still hurts. I’ve done many regrettable things in my life and for the most part, I’ve been able to forgive myself for them. But the regret I feel when it comes to Angie is something I’ve tried so hard to get past and haven’t been able to. I regret never telling her how I really felt about her. To be as much in love with somebody as I was with her and to never let her know is unfortunate. I know she didn’t feel the same way about me but I wish I would have told her. But that pales in comparison to the guilt I feel for not being there in the end as her friend. After all the times she was there for me when my life was in disarray, I wasn’t there for her when she needed it the most. I know she had the love and support of her family and friends, but one more wouldn’t have hurt.

With that being said, I now know that I’m going to be okay. As I sat down to write this and started reliving all the events that I’ve mentioned here, I had an epiphany. First of all, I’m guessing she probably knew how I felt about her. I’ve spent the last five years thinking about all the things I didn’t say or all the things I didn’t do, but after really thinking about it, I think that’s what the look in her eyes was that one wonderful night. She knew. And secondly, she would have been the first one to forgive me even if I couldn’t forgive myself. That’s just the kind of person she was. She was the best friend anyone could ever ask for and I’ll always be thankful that Angie came into my life. Whether it was a dance or a midnight conversation or one unforgettable kiss, I’ll always have those memories in my head and I’ll always have her in my heart.

I miss you every single day, Angie. Even after you’re gone, you’re still my inspiration to be a better person each and every day. You touched the lives of every single person you ever met and each of those people are better for knowing you. I want to thank you for always being my friend and I pray that someday we will meet again, even if only for a moment. Just to tell you that I love you.

How To Root For The Chicago Cubs

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As baseball once again rolls into the dog days of summer, we Chicago Cubs fans will once again struggle to find meaning to this season. As each division starts to take shape, we will find ourselves looking up at the Cardinals (again), and simply counting the days until football season starts. The annual “wait until next year” conversations will begin and the clock will continue ticking towards another year that we must add to the total that have passed since 1908. So why do we continue to torture ourselves year after year? The answer is that we just do. Cubs fans have long been used to dealing with the fact that perhaps it just isn’t in the cards (please forgive the expression). It does become frustrating, so I am here to explain how it is that I keep coming back every season to root for our beloved Chicago Cubs.

1. Make fun of the Cubs before everyone else does.
I know this may seem counter-productive to being a fan of any team, but when it’s the Cubs it really does become easier and easier to do. It’s not that I really always think that they’re terrible and they will never win a World Series. It’s the matter of having to listen to everyone I know that isn’t a Cubs fan tell me these things over and over and over again. And please don’t let me forget about the insufferable posts on Facebook, as if I’d somehow forgotten that the Cubs had just lost five straight games because Carlos Marmol is still on the roster. Therefore, I’ve found it much easier to stop people in conversation before they get going. It’s funny to see the looks on their faces as they begin to tell me how awful the Cubs are and I chime in with “Yeah, the Cubs suck. They haven’t won since 1908. I get it. Do you have anything else to contribute?”

2. Stop listening to St. Louis Cardinals fans
We need to stop comparing ourselves to the St. Louis Cardinals, period. The Redbirds certainly have their own way of doing things and it has worked amazingly well for them. If anything, a Cardinal fan makes himself look terrible when he insults the Cubs because he lowers his team down to the Cubs’ level (see how I made fun of them before you could). Again, I get it. Your team has won more championships. I am aware of your team’s accomplishments in relation to ours. If Cardinal fans want to be as classy as the media makes them out to be, then please just keep quiet.

3. Stop believing in curses.
We need to stop whining. It wasn’t the goat’s fault. It wasn’t the black cat’s fault. It certainly wasn’t Bartman’s fault. We lost.

4. Remember how great the Wrigley Field experience really is.
For those Cub fans who have never been to Wrigley Field, please put it on your to-do list. Through the great seasons and the awful seasons, the record doesn’t matter when you walk up the ramp and see this ballpark. From the ivy to the old scoreboard, there really is no experience like watching a ballgame here. I know many will say that it’s filthy and outdated and the possible renovation project is necessary and those people are certainly entitled to that opinion. Change can be a good thing. But if Wrigley Field stayed exactly the way it is now for another 100 years, I would be okay with it. Every time I walk that ramp, I turn into my eight year old self again. I remember every single reason my grandfather persuaded me to become a Cubs fan as a boy. It truly is one of the most special places in sports, and honestly, one of my favorite places in the world.

5. As hard as it may be, continue to be patient. You still love the Cubs.
This reason alone may be the only one we really need. Chicago Cubs fans are the most loyal fans in sports, and the reason we are that way, is because we have to be. Generations upon generations of us have watched in agony as our beloved Cubbies have knocked on the door of greatness only to be turned away time and time again. Believe me, it does get very frustrating. I will make fun of the Cubs. I have been to Wrigley Field and booed the Cubs. But at the end of the day, I will always come back. I continue to believe that someday, somehow they will find a way to win another World Series. Through thick and thin, I love the Chicago Cubs. I always have and I always will. That’s what being a real fan is all about.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mama

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Now I know what you all must be thinking. This post is nearly a week late. I respectfully disagree. Now don’t get me wrong; I really don’t have a problem with the designated Mother’s Day that rolls around every May. The majority of mothers deserve to have a day set aside to celebrate all that they do. Brunch is nice, flowers are nice, cards that other people have written are nice, but when that Sunday is over, is that it? Are we supposed to just wake up on Monday morning and start thinking about Father’s Day? That’s a problem for me and I actually have a name for that problem. Most would call the problem Lois but I call her Mama.
Maybe a part of my problem with the designated Mother’s Day is that I simply don’t know how to handle that day with my own mother. She’s had an issue with that day for a long time now, 27 years actually. That was the day that her and her two sisters picked up my grandmother for a Mother’s Day lunch, only to come back to find that my grandfather had passed away while they were gone. Since I was old enough to really understand what that meant, I’ve never been quite sure if she wanted to even acknowledge that day’s existence. But honestly, as difficult a day as that must be for her, that’s still not the issue that I have. As I’m sure you’ve all figured out by now, the issue that I have is that a Sunday in May is not Mother’s Day to me. EVERY day is Mother’s Day to me.
I know this is a strange quote to throw out in an emotional piece, but Norman Bates says that “A boy’s best friend is his mother” and honestly, I’m completely okay with that. Call me sentimental. Call me a mama’s boy, I really don’t care. All I know is that throughout my life, the one person I knew I could always count on was my mother. From the earliest moments I can remember, she’s done everything in her power to make sure that I was okay. My parents divorced when I was 12 and when he left for a couple of years, I saw her maintain a household and raise three kids on her own and she made it look easy. In reality, it had to be extremely difficult for her. She borrowed money from people; she took out second mortgages; she put herself in debt to make sure that we stayed in our house. She turned down wonderful job opportunities in other cities to make sure that we stayed around our friends. Hell, she even brought Dad back to town just to make sure we didn’t lose that relationship. Then she also had to explain why he was acting the way he was acting because I just couldn’t understand what an addict really was and sat with me as I cried each time she had to tell me he was going back to prison. She never gave up on me when I dropped out of college (twice) and was completely lost in this world. When my first engagement broke up, she was there to ease the pain and tell me that everything was going to be okay and the right woman would come along when I was really ready for it. When I thought I had found that person, she danced the most amazing dance with me at my wedding. She was the first person there in the middle of the night when my twin daughters were born 11 weeks early, just to let me know that they were going to be okay. And in the past year when my marriage fell apart, she was there to soften the blow. I was angry and hurt and instead of yelling at the person I wanted to yell at, I yelled at my mother instead and she just let me go and took it and when I figured out how stupid I was being, she forgave me in an instant. Then a few months later after I watched my dad take his last breath, she came to the hospital and sat in that room with me just so I wasn’t alone.
I think that’s what I’ve come to realize as an adult. I’ve certainly had my share of things to deal with over the years and I handled so many of them in the completely wrong way. I felt alone. I isolated myself from the world in hopes that if I never let anyone in, even my mother, then nobody would know the pain that I was feeling. But she always knew, and whether I knew it or not, I was never alone. She was and is still to this day always watching, always caring for me, always loving me.
Just a little fact: my mother isn’t perfect, but she’s the perfect mother for someone like me and the perfect grandmother for my children and I take so much pride in the fact that I am her son. So to my mother, I love you so much. Happy Mother’s Day Mama. Sunday, today, tomorrow, and every day for the rest of my life.