Bill's Blog
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Bill's Blog
Endurance
This might be my least favorite day of the year. This is "spring forward" day. It's the start of daylight savings, the day when we lose an hour of sleep. It's the day when I get off of work, and all of a sudden, it's midnight instead of 11. It's the morning after, and I woke up at 9:45. Church starts at 10. Despite that, I managed to roll out of bed, shower, rally the kids, grab a vanilla latte at the espresso stand, and make it to church by 10:15. Impressive, huh? I'm really glad I went.
The message by Pastor Peter Van Breda at Bellevue Foursquare Church was about endurance. It really spoke to me. I know a thing or two about endurance. He talked about how it seems like every time we achieve a little victory in life, we are then presented with a trial to perservere through. It almost works like it's meant to be that way. He discussed some specific characteristics of dealing with trials in life: humility, compassion and faith.
A few years ago, I travelled to China with a fascinating group of students who were studying the topic of Christianity in China. And you talk about strong faith. Chinese Christians risk being jailed for their faith. Just showing up at church puts them at risk. Pastor Van Breda and I met with one Christian leader in the city of Xian, and it was complete cloak and dagger stuff. We had to follow two blocks behind him, and make sure we weren't being followed by the secret police. We were then secreted into a private room at a restaurant which was considered safe. It was very strange to see such restrictions on what you are legally allowed to believe. On that trip, we also visited a large Christian church in Shanghai. After attending secret services in Beijing and Xian, we wondered how this guy was able to operate this huge, markedly Christian church in downtown Shanghai. Well, he isn't anymore. The government shut him down, and made him discontinue his ministry. He says he thought that he was getting so big and so powerful, that the government wouldn't want to take him on. That was pride talking, and that caused his fall. The government shut him off like a light switch. A little victory, followed by a trial.
I have dealt with pride issues in my life. One of those times was when I was working at Fox Sports Net. I was rapidly promoted to a primary anchor role there. I was getting some national exposure for the first time in my career, and started believing some of the hype. I started feeling that somehow I was entitled to this success, that it was my destiny finally coming to fruition. I think I treated some people poorly along the way. My pride was getting the best of me. Then came the trial. After three years there, my contract wasn't renewed. Suddenly, I was out of work. I was hurt and confused and bewildered.
I had a hockey game a few days after receiving that news, and I remember sitting on the bench before the game. I was all by myself as the Zambini resurfaced the ice. I closed my eyes, leaned my helmet up against my stick and whispered, "What is this about, God? What are you doing here?" After a moment of silence, I clearly heard a response:
"I'm sorry it had to be this way, but I had to get your attention."
That was it. All I heard. My attention? Why? For what? I had to do some soul-searching. I soon realized what it meant. I needed to be humbled. Once I stopped talking, and started listening, things started to turn my way once again.
I remember very clearly calling out to God, claiming one specific job at KCPQ to be mine. I had no reason to think I would get that job. I did make a call to the news director there, and sent him a DVD of my work, but hadn't heard anything back. I was driving home after a run, soaking in sweat, screaming to God, "I claim that job in the name of Jesus. That job is mine. I consider it done. Thanks, God." I went home and jumped in the shower. Through the sound of spraying water, I heard Catherine calling my name. "It's KCPQ", she said. And a new chapter in my life began. The job I ended up getting at KCPQ was even better than the one I had claimed. In many respects, it was better than the one I lost at Fox Sports. God works like that.
I've talked many times about how my journey through cancer humbled me. And through that humility, I have been able to reach many people on a whole new level. Through humility has come compassion. I am honored to be allowed into the lives of others. I think part of the reason why folks can relate to my struggle is because it is all so remarkably ordinary and common. We all understand trial. But it's really all about endurance.
As I continue training for the Seattle Rock n Roll marathon, I think about mile 20 a lot. Or mile 22. If you've never been there, you don't know what it's like after running for 3 hours--or more-- and seeing the sign denoting the 22 mile mark. You know what you are feeling at that point? Pain. A lot of pain. And you're thinking, "Really? 4 more miles? Oh no! I will never do this again. No chance" Your thighs are aching. Your calves are cramping. Your stomach is queasy. Your feet are swollen and sore. But you keep going. You look at all the people around you, looking tired and fatigued. They are gonna make it. And so are you. You will make it to the finish line. You will crawl to the finish line if you have to. That's endurance.
Then the finish is in sight. You sprint to the line. You have no idea where that energy came from. You raise your hands over your head in triumph. Someone places a medal around your neck.
And you think, "That was awesome! I can't wait to do it again!"
The message by Pastor Peter Van Breda at Bellevue Foursquare Church was about endurance. It really spoke to me. I know a thing or two about endurance. He talked about how it seems like every time we achieve a little victory in life, we are then presented with a trial to perservere through. It almost works like it's meant to be that way. He discussed some specific characteristics of dealing with trials in life: humility, compassion and faith.
A few years ago, I travelled to China with a fascinating group of students who were studying the topic of Christianity in China. And you talk about strong faith. Chinese Christians risk being jailed for their faith. Just showing up at church puts them at risk. Pastor Van Breda and I met with one Christian leader in the city of Xian, and it was complete cloak and dagger stuff. We had to follow two blocks behind him, and make sure we weren't being followed by the secret police. We were then secreted into a private room at a restaurant which was considered safe. It was very strange to see such restrictions on what you are legally allowed to believe. On that trip, we also visited a large Christian church in Shanghai. After attending secret services in Beijing and Xian, we wondered how this guy was able to operate this huge, markedly Christian church in downtown Shanghai. Well, he isn't anymore. The government shut him down, and made him discontinue his ministry. He says he thought that he was getting so big and so powerful, that the government wouldn't want to take him on. That was pride talking, and that caused his fall. The government shut him off like a light switch. A little victory, followed by a trial.
I have dealt with pride issues in my life. One of those times was when I was working at Fox Sports Net. I was rapidly promoted to a primary anchor role there. I was getting some national exposure for the first time in my career, and started believing some of the hype. I started feeling that somehow I was entitled to this success, that it was my destiny finally coming to fruition. I think I treated some people poorly along the way. My pride was getting the best of me. Then came the trial. After three years there, my contract wasn't renewed. Suddenly, I was out of work. I was hurt and confused and bewildered.
I had a hockey game a few days after receiving that news, and I remember sitting on the bench before the game. I was all by myself as the Zambini resurfaced the ice. I closed my eyes, leaned my helmet up against my stick and whispered, "What is this about, God? What are you doing here?" After a moment of silence, I clearly heard a response:
"I'm sorry it had to be this way, but I had to get your attention."
That was it. All I heard. My attention? Why? For what? I had to do some soul-searching. I soon realized what it meant. I needed to be humbled. Once I stopped talking, and started listening, things started to turn my way once again.
I remember very clearly calling out to God, claiming one specific job at KCPQ to be mine. I had no reason to think I would get that job. I did make a call to the news director there, and sent him a DVD of my work, but hadn't heard anything back. I was driving home after a run, soaking in sweat, screaming to God, "I claim that job in the name of Jesus. That job is mine. I consider it done. Thanks, God." I went home and jumped in the shower. Through the sound of spraying water, I heard Catherine calling my name. "It's KCPQ", she said. And a new chapter in my life began. The job I ended up getting at KCPQ was even better than the one I had claimed. In many respects, it was better than the one I lost at Fox Sports. God works like that.
I've talked many times about how my journey through cancer humbled me. And through that humility, I have been able to reach many people on a whole new level. Through humility has come compassion. I am honored to be allowed into the lives of others. I think part of the reason why folks can relate to my struggle is because it is all so remarkably ordinary and common. We all understand trial. But it's really all about endurance.
As I continue training for the Seattle Rock n Roll marathon, I think about mile 20 a lot. Or mile 22. If you've never been there, you don't know what it's like after running for 3 hours--or more-- and seeing the sign denoting the 22 mile mark. You know what you are feeling at that point? Pain. A lot of pain. And you're thinking, "Really? 4 more miles? Oh no! I will never do this again. No chance" Your thighs are aching. Your calves are cramping. Your stomach is queasy. Your feet are swollen and sore. But you keep going. You look at all the people around you, looking tired and fatigued. They are gonna make it. And so are you. You will make it to the finish line. You will crawl to the finish line if you have to. That's endurance.
Then the finish is in sight. You sprint to the line. You have no idea where that energy came from. You raise your hands over your head in triumph. Someone places a medal around your neck.
And you think, "That was awesome! I can't wait to do it again!"
Marathon Training Update 3-10-10
My marathon training is not going well.
I am now less than four months away from the Seattle Rock n Roll Marathon, and I feel like I am digressing in my training. Yesterday, I caught up on my "Office" viewing, while running five miles on the treadmill. Today, I watched "Community", which is becoming less and less enjoyable as the first season progresses, and only finished 4.5 miles before getting winded, bored and a little rushed for time. I don't know how much those factors actually caused me to stop, but I do think the diminishing quality of my television choices played a major role.
I have thrown a couple of distractions in my path to spice up my marathon training. One is the Big Climb to benefit the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. It happens on March 21st. I will be climbing 69 flights of stairs, huffing and puffing the entire way. It's one of those workouts that's so intense, that you end up tasting blood in your breath by the end of it. And to be perfectly honest with you, I'm not in great shape right now. I wonder a lot about why I feel congestion in my chest these days. Is it cancer? Has it spread to my lungs? I constantly do what I refer to as "The Five Finger Shuffle", probing the area around my collarbone for lumps. Sometimes my hand will just reach toward my neck absently, and suddenly, I feel something down there. Is it a lump? No it can't be. Is it? It might be. No, it's probably not. This is a game I play several times a day, even now, five months after my cancer was eradicated. I can't help looking in the rearview mirror.
I would be busting out 10-12 mile runs on my long run days at this point in my training, if I was serious about running a marathon, but I can't manage it yet. A 7-miler is about all I've been able to complete in the last week and a half. And I stopped to walk a couple of times along the way. I guess I'm just hoping to keep building a base, while trying not to get injured. I have a lot of experience in training for races, but not a lot of experience training an out of shape body like this one.
I am now less than four months away from the Seattle Rock n Roll Marathon, and I feel like I am digressing in my training. Yesterday, I caught up on my "Office" viewing, while running five miles on the treadmill. Today, I watched "Community", which is becoming less and less enjoyable as the first season progresses, and only finished 4.5 miles before getting winded, bored and a little rushed for time. I don't know how much those factors actually caused me to stop, but I do think the diminishing quality of my television choices played a major role.
I have thrown a couple of distractions in my path to spice up my marathon training. One is the Big Climb to benefit the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. It happens on March 21st. I will be climbing 69 flights of stairs, huffing and puffing the entire way. It's one of those workouts that's so intense, that you end up tasting blood in your breath by the end of it. And to be perfectly honest with you, I'm not in great shape right now. I wonder a lot about why I feel congestion in my chest these days. Is it cancer? Has it spread to my lungs? I constantly do what I refer to as "The Five Finger Shuffle", probing the area around my collarbone for lumps. Sometimes my hand will just reach toward my neck absently, and suddenly, I feel something down there. Is it a lump? No it can't be. Is it? It might be. No, it's probably not. This is a game I play several times a day, even now, five months after my cancer was eradicated. I can't help looking in the rearview mirror.
I would be busting out 10-12 mile runs on my long run days at this point in my training, if I was serious about running a marathon, but I can't manage it yet. A 7-miler is about all I've been able to complete in the last week and a half. And I stopped to walk a couple of times along the way. I guess I'm just hoping to keep building a base, while trying not to get injured. I have a lot of experience in training for races, but not a lot of experience training an out of shape body like this one.
And The Winner Is...
Me!
I went 6-for-7 with my fearless, yet completely uninformed Oscar predictions. It played out almost exactly as I thought it would. One of my buddies in Hollywood sent me a Facebook message during the ceremony:
"Isn't it nice to know that the High School popularity contest continues well into adulthood?"
That's why it's so easy to pick the winners. My only miscalculation was Best Picture. I thought the Academy would reward the innovation of "Avatar" with the big award, but instead they gave it to "The Hurt Locker". Maybe it has to do with James Cameron's massive ego, and his "party 'til dawn!" decree that was widely derided after his win for "Titanic". It may have been. Seriously. Seems like the Academy penalizes folks for stuff like that. You have to behave yourself, or the cool kids won't have you back. The Academy loves an underdog, as evidenced in the past by Best Picture winners that I felt were undeserving, such as "Crash", and "Shakespeare in Love". The night "Shakespeare in Love" won Best Picture over "Saving Private Ryan" was when I first realized that the Oscars are nothing but a sham.
After the Oscar telecast, I watched "The Hurt Locker". Not that impressed. An actual plot and cohesive narrative would be a nice thing to throw in there for a Best Picture winner. Just sayin'.
I went 6-for-7 with my fearless, yet completely uninformed Oscar predictions. It played out almost exactly as I thought it would. One of my buddies in Hollywood sent me a Facebook message during the ceremony:
"Isn't it nice to know that the High School popularity contest continues well into adulthood?"
That's why it's so easy to pick the winners. My only miscalculation was Best Picture. I thought the Academy would reward the innovation of "Avatar" with the big award, but instead they gave it to "The Hurt Locker". Maybe it has to do with James Cameron's massive ego, and his "party 'til dawn!" decree that was widely derided after his win for "Titanic". It may have been. Seriously. Seems like the Academy penalizes folks for stuff like that. You have to behave yourself, or the cool kids won't have you back. The Academy loves an underdog, as evidenced in the past by Best Picture winners that I felt were undeserving, such as "Crash", and "Shakespeare in Love". The night "Shakespeare in Love" won Best Picture over "Saving Private Ryan" was when I first realized that the Oscars are nothing but a sham.
After the Oscar telecast, I watched "The Hurt Locker". Not that impressed. An actual plot and cohesive narrative would be a nice thing to throw in there for a Best Picture winner. Just sayin'.
Dear Oscar: You Lost Me
The Oscars have lost me.
When I heard the plan to increase the number of Best Picture nominees, I understood what the motion picture industry was doing. They are trying to increase the drama and the intrigue, and get people to get out and spend more money on more nominated movies. For me--and I suspect a lot of other people--this move has had the opposite effect. I am watching less movies. In fact, of the 10 films nominated for Best Picture, I have seen two.
What the Academy has done is watered down the value and the prestige of the Best Picture Category. Being the film nut that I am, for the past 20 years, I had always made a point to watch as many of the nominated films as I could, so I could make informed decisions about which films really deserved the recognition. It's a fun little game, and helps me in my office Oscar pools. This year, for whatever reason, I just couldn't care less. The Oscars crept up on me, and I didn't make any effort to watch any of the nominated films. I happened to see "Up" and "Up in the Air" at different times last year, so those are the only two I can speak definitively about.
That said, I will be watching tonight's Oscar telecast. I am still moderately interested in who takes home the statues. But after following the Academy's hype machine for 2 decades as a member of the media, I can usually get a pretty good sense of who's going to win. So, I'm going to conduct a little experiment. With very little knowledge of the films and performances up for Academy Awards tonight, I am going to boldly predict who will win, based solely on the buzz that I have happened across in the past few weeks. Keep in mind, I have done absolutely no research, I have read no insider picks. In fact, I barely paid attention to the Golden Globes and other award shows this year. So these picks are solely based on little ancillary tidbits that I have heard and seen, and very little firsthand knowledge--very much the way that actual Academy members make their selections.
I'll bet that I'm not far off. But we'll see. Okay, here goes:
BEST ANIMATED FEATURE
Well, I saw a lot of these with the kids, but "Up" seems to be the critics' darling, so it wins here, instead of Best Picture.
BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR
I have never heard of Christoph Waltz, and never saw "Inglorious Basterds", but he's apparently going to win.
BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS
Mo'Nique is apparently a lock for "Precious". Never heard of her or seen the movie, but there you go.
BEST ACTRESS
Meryl Streep in "Julie and Julia", vs. Sandra Bullock in "The Blind Side". I have talked to a number of people who loved Sandra Bullock's performance, but none could recall the name of the movie. "Blind side" is a football term. I wonder if that hurts her. Meryl has more nominations than anyone and two wins in the past. Sandra may never be here again, and I bet the Academy sides with her.
BEST ACTOR
Jeff Bridges. Never saw the country music flick he's nominated for, but he's one of my favorite actors, and Hollywood seems to feel the same way. He is long overdue for Oscar props. This is his night.
BEST DIRECTOR
This may be the most intriguing category of the night. Kathryn Bigelow is the new darling of Hollywood for "The Hurt Locker". James Cameron is the old Hollywood Titan, who turned the form on its ear with "Avatar". I bet Bigelow gets it, just because of all the buzz that she, in particular, has gained from this flick.
BEST PICTURE
I know, Hollywood rarely divvies up Director and Picture, but they might this time around. I don't see any way "Avatar" doesn't get Picture. Again, I didn't see it, but it was quite a phenomenon, and apparently took filmmaking to a new level. That sort of innovation will be awarded in technical categories, and I'm betting it will be rewarded with a Best Picture Oscar as well.
So there it is. I will review my terribly uninformed, unscientific picks tomorrow, and we'll see how I did.
When I heard the plan to increase the number of Best Picture nominees, I understood what the motion picture industry was doing. They are trying to increase the drama and the intrigue, and get people to get out and spend more money on more nominated movies. For me--and I suspect a lot of other people--this move has had the opposite effect. I am watching less movies. In fact, of the 10 films nominated for Best Picture, I have seen two.
What the Academy has done is watered down the value and the prestige of the Best Picture Category. Being the film nut that I am, for the past 20 years, I had always made a point to watch as many of the nominated films as I could, so I could make informed decisions about which films really deserved the recognition. It's a fun little game, and helps me in my office Oscar pools. This year, for whatever reason, I just couldn't care less. The Oscars crept up on me, and I didn't make any effort to watch any of the nominated films. I happened to see "Up" and "Up in the Air" at different times last year, so those are the only two I can speak definitively about.
That said, I will be watching tonight's Oscar telecast. I am still moderately interested in who takes home the statues. But after following the Academy's hype machine for 2 decades as a member of the media, I can usually get a pretty good sense of who's going to win. So, I'm going to conduct a little experiment. With very little knowledge of the films and performances up for Academy Awards tonight, I am going to boldly predict who will win, based solely on the buzz that I have happened across in the past few weeks. Keep in mind, I have done absolutely no research, I have read no insider picks. In fact, I barely paid attention to the Golden Globes and other award shows this year. So these picks are solely based on little ancillary tidbits that I have heard and seen, and very little firsthand knowledge--very much the way that actual Academy members make their selections.
I'll bet that I'm not far off. But we'll see. Okay, here goes:
BEST ANIMATED FEATURE
Well, I saw a lot of these with the kids, but "Up" seems to be the critics' darling, so it wins here, instead of Best Picture.
BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR
I have never heard of Christoph Waltz, and never saw "Inglorious Basterds", but he's apparently going to win.
BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS
Mo'Nique is apparently a lock for "Precious". Never heard of her or seen the movie, but there you go.
BEST ACTRESS
Meryl Streep in "Julie and Julia", vs. Sandra Bullock in "The Blind Side". I have talked to a number of people who loved Sandra Bullock's performance, but none could recall the name of the movie. "Blind side" is a football term. I wonder if that hurts her. Meryl has more nominations than anyone and two wins in the past. Sandra may never be here again, and I bet the Academy sides with her.
BEST ACTOR
Jeff Bridges. Never saw the country music flick he's nominated for, but he's one of my favorite actors, and Hollywood seems to feel the same way. He is long overdue for Oscar props. This is his night.
BEST DIRECTOR
This may be the most intriguing category of the night. Kathryn Bigelow is the new darling of Hollywood for "The Hurt Locker". James Cameron is the old Hollywood Titan, who turned the form on its ear with "Avatar". I bet Bigelow gets it, just because of all the buzz that she, in particular, has gained from this flick.
BEST PICTURE
I know, Hollywood rarely divvies up Director and Picture, but they might this time around. I don't see any way "Avatar" doesn't get Picture. Again, I didn't see it, but it was quite a phenomenon, and apparently took filmmaking to a new level. That sort of innovation will be awarded in technical categories, and I'm betting it will be rewarded with a Best Picture Oscar as well.
So there it is. I will review my terribly uninformed, unscientific picks tomorrow, and we'll see how I did.
Moving to Canada
Don't believe everything you hear on TV.
I was one of those breathless reporters, preaching about how overpriced and overcrowded the Olympics were going to be. Well, guess what? I was wrong. I spent a total of 7 days in Vancouver during the Olympic games, and I can tell you that much of the discussion about high-priced tickets, unaffordable lodging, and huge lines at the border was just hype. Generally, none of it was much of an issue.
I spent the first four days of the Games in Vancouver. I covered the opening of the Games for two days, and then hung out with friends over the first weekend, checking out the scene. The energy pulsing through the city was like nothing I have ever experienced. It was a fantastic international party, with people from all over the world peacocking their pride for their homeland. I have never been more proud to display the red, white, and blue of the United States. But there were moments when my patriotic meddle was tested.
I took the family up for three days during the second week of the Games. I crossed the border several times during the first week, and had no wait time at all. Seriously. Five minutes or less. When we arrived at the Canadian border on the Sunday of the first US/Canada hockey game, the wait times were about a half hour. From what I've been able to gather, that was about as bad as it got. That is a great credit the US and Canadian border control. They said they wanted the Olympics to be about the games, and not about the border, and they definitely succeeded.
After we crossed the border, we were cruising along with traffic along Highway 99 toward Vancouver, when I noticed a man waving his arms in the middle of the highway. I slammed on my brakes, and quickly realized that it was a police officer. He motioned me to pull over, and I obliged. I rolled down my window and asked the officer what the problem was. He said I was speeding. He didn't tell me how fast I was going, and I doubt he really knew. I told him we were travelling along with traffic, and it seemed pretty arbitrary that he would pull us, the American tourists, over.
"Pretty arbitrary, huh?" He repeated, obviously impressed with my command of the English language.
"Yeah, pretty arbitrary", I replied.
The burly officer studied me for a moment, staring down at me through his yellow aviator glasses. He realized that he was dealing with someone well-versed in smart-assery. He issued me a $200 ticket and wished me a "better day".
As he walked away, I shouted, "I hope you reach your quota!" He didn't even turn around. I suspect it's because he knew I was on to their little scam.
So, less than 10 minutes in Canada, we had our very first Olympic souvenir.
I had reported weeks before the Olympics that places were renting for an average of $400-500 a night. I figured we could do better if we waited. And as it turned out, I was right. Through a buddy, we rented a house just outside of town, right near the Canada rail line, for $125 a night.
We immediately headed into town to check out the US/Canada hockey game. The city was electric. The place was ready to explode. There was little chance of scoring tickets to that game, unless we wanted to spend hundreds per ticket, so we hunkered down at a sports bar in Yaletown. For eight hours. Catherine couldn't believe that we would just sit there all day long, waiting for a hockey game, but I knew if we lost that table, we would probably lose out on a chance to watch the game in a decent spot. It was that crazy.
As it turned out, I was the ONLY American flashing the colors at the bar. I was with a buddy and his family, but they opted to go low-key. I, on the other hand, sported a vintage USA t-shirt with the Olympic rings on it, covered with a USA baseball sweatshirt. There was no mistaking who I was rooting for. As the US scored early on, I cheered just a bit. A low, growl of boos surrounded me. Best to keep a low profile in enemy territory. As the US got closer to a stunning upset win over the heavily-favored Canadians, my buddy and I exchanged a few sly fist bumps in celebration. After the final buzzer, and a US win, I let out a few hearty claps for the boys. I recieved nothing but handshakes and grudging nods from the Canadian fans as we left the bar, but once we reached the street party on Robson and Granville streets downtown, the mood was slightly different. I was booed loudly by a few Canadian fans, who waved a Canadian flag in my face. I think this display dissuaded Will, my 9-year-old from wanting to wear his USA gear out in public. He went shopping for a Canadian flag to fit in. But even having recruited Will intgo their ranks, there was no consolation for the Canucks. The air had been released from Vancouver that night. The city was completely deflated. But that would markedly change one week later.
The next day, we all went to the US Women's semifinal hockey game vs. Sweden. I had reported that tickets were expected and difficult to find, but I thought I might be able to just show up to some venues and score tickets outside. Once again, I was right. We were able to score 4 tickets for $100. Not a bad deal for tickets that were $200 apiece at face value. The US women won, and advanced to the gold medal game against Canada. It was great waving the American flag and chanting U-S-A!
We were able to score front row tickets to a US curling match for $20 apiece, so close to the "house" that we were able to hear the guys conferring. I went to a Switzerland/ Belarus hockey game the next day (for $20 a ticket), and ended up sitting in the 3rd row. It was a great game, and ended up going to a shootout, with Switzerland winning.
My kids really embraced the Olympic Spirit. They loved the flag-waving, the positive attitude and international feel of the Games. They loved the pin trading, the mascots, and the family-friendly vibe. Will said it's one of the best vacations we've ever had. So good, Will cried as we pulled out of Vancouver. It was an interesting sociological experiment with the kids. Gigi is very much a leader. She reveled in waving the stars and stripes, and being different, since there were so few Americans there. Truly, there were probably more Russians and Czechs in the streets than Americans. Will is a follower by nature, and wanted Canadian stuff to blend in with the crowd.
Will is clearly taking his new Canadian allegiance seriously. He didn't want to leave. Once we got back home, the questions began.
"Can we move to Canada?" Will asked earnestly.
"Well, there's a whole work visa issue that would have to be dealt with", I replied, hoping to baffle him into submission. It didn't work.
"You mean you can only use credit cards in Canada?"
"No...it's just that we're American, and...we're not moving there, okay?"
"But can we go back to the Olympics?"
"I wish we could, Will, but there's only a few days left and you have school and I have work and we just can't make it happen. I'm sorry."
Will wiped away a tear. "Can we go back to Vancouver when the Olympics come back?"
"Well, the Olympics won't come back to Vancouver. It only happens every four years, and next time it'll be in Russia. I don't know if we could make it there."
Will paused, and then apprarently reasoned that the language barrier was what made a trip to Soschi in 2014 unlikely.
"When will the Olympics come to a city in Canada that speaks English?"
I told him I didn't know. It could be a long time. The crying got a little more hysteric.
"I just love Canada!" Will wailed. "You know, there are kids in my class that don't even know about Canada."
"Well", I said, trying to follow the logic of a 9-year-old, "I'll tell you what. You and me will sit down and watch the rest of the Olympics on TV."
"Nooo!" Will cried, "NBC's Olympic coverage sucks!"
And when the kid is right, he's right. NBC's tape-delayed, star-obsessed, pro-American progaganda is ridiculous. In Canada, we watched the actual Olympic games, most of them live on CTV, as they were actually happening. There were no flowery 5-minute biographies on Shawn White, no slo-mo montage of Lindsey Vonn's quest for gold. None of that garbage. The Games provide enough drama in themselves. You don't need to sell real sports fans on sports. Just show us the damn competition as it happens. That's reality TV at its best! NBC paid billions for the Olympics, and chooses to show next to nothing. So here we are, 2 hours from the Olympics, and we're being forced to watch events that happened 10 hours earlier. It made me sick to my stomach. The final straw for me was the US/Switzerland hockey quarterfinal, which hapened on noon on Monday, but NBC--apparently determined to piss off as many people as possible-- decided to tape delay the game 3 hours for the West Coast. Seriously? I was forced to watch the thing on my computer, cursing NBC the entire time.
NBC did decide to air the US/Canada gold medal game live. They made quite a show of the fact that they were actually airing it "live", as if it was 1955 and televising a live sporting event was something novel. It was for NBC, in their lustful quest for prime-time ratings.
That game, however, might have been the greatest hockey game I've ever seen. Canada won it in overtime, and it was one for the ages. Of course, it had to be the Canadian hockey poster boy, Sidney Crosby, scoring the game winner. It couldn't have been scripted any better.
Maybe Will is on to something. Next Olympics, perhaps we will move to Canada. Just so we can watch the actual Olympic Games on TV, and not the processed, pre-packaged crap that NBC foists upon us.
I was one of those breathless reporters, preaching about how overpriced and overcrowded the Olympics were going to be. Well, guess what? I was wrong. I spent a total of 7 days in Vancouver during the Olympic games, and I can tell you that much of the discussion about high-priced tickets, unaffordable lodging, and huge lines at the border was just hype. Generally, none of it was much of an issue.
I spent the first four days of the Games in Vancouver. I covered the opening of the Games for two days, and then hung out with friends over the first weekend, checking out the scene. The energy pulsing through the city was like nothing I have ever experienced. It was a fantastic international party, with people from all over the world peacocking their pride for their homeland. I have never been more proud to display the red, white, and blue of the United States. But there were moments when my patriotic meddle was tested.
I took the family up for three days during the second week of the Games. I crossed the border several times during the first week, and had no wait time at all. Seriously. Five minutes or less. When we arrived at the Canadian border on the Sunday of the first US/Canada hockey game, the wait times were about a half hour. From what I've been able to gather, that was about as bad as it got. That is a great credit the US and Canadian border control. They said they wanted the Olympics to be about the games, and not about the border, and they definitely succeeded.
After we crossed the border, we were cruising along with traffic along Highway 99 toward Vancouver, when I noticed a man waving his arms in the middle of the highway. I slammed on my brakes, and quickly realized that it was a police officer. He motioned me to pull over, and I obliged. I rolled down my window and asked the officer what the problem was. He said I was speeding. He didn't tell me how fast I was going, and I doubt he really knew. I told him we were travelling along with traffic, and it seemed pretty arbitrary that he would pull us, the American tourists, over.
"Pretty arbitrary, huh?" He repeated, obviously impressed with my command of the English language.
"Yeah, pretty arbitrary", I replied.
The burly officer studied me for a moment, staring down at me through his yellow aviator glasses. He realized that he was dealing with someone well-versed in smart-assery. He issued me a $200 ticket and wished me a "better day".
As he walked away, I shouted, "I hope you reach your quota!" He didn't even turn around. I suspect it's because he knew I was on to their little scam.
So, less than 10 minutes in Canada, we had our very first Olympic souvenir.
I had reported weeks before the Olympics that places were renting for an average of $400-500 a night. I figured we could do better if we waited. And as it turned out, I was right. Through a buddy, we rented a house just outside of town, right near the Canada rail line, for $125 a night.
We immediately headed into town to check out the US/Canada hockey game. The city was electric. The place was ready to explode. There was little chance of scoring tickets to that game, unless we wanted to spend hundreds per ticket, so we hunkered down at a sports bar in Yaletown. For eight hours. Catherine couldn't believe that we would just sit there all day long, waiting for a hockey game, but I knew if we lost that table, we would probably lose out on a chance to watch the game in a decent spot. It was that crazy.
As it turned out, I was the ONLY American flashing the colors at the bar. I was with a buddy and his family, but they opted to go low-key. I, on the other hand, sported a vintage USA t-shirt with the Olympic rings on it, covered with a USA baseball sweatshirt. There was no mistaking who I was rooting for. As the US scored early on, I cheered just a bit. A low, growl of boos surrounded me. Best to keep a low profile in enemy territory. As the US got closer to a stunning upset win over the heavily-favored Canadians, my buddy and I exchanged a few sly fist bumps in celebration. After the final buzzer, and a US win, I let out a few hearty claps for the boys. I recieved nothing but handshakes and grudging nods from the Canadian fans as we left the bar, but once we reached the street party on Robson and Granville streets downtown, the mood was slightly different. I was booed loudly by a few Canadian fans, who waved a Canadian flag in my face. I think this display dissuaded Will, my 9-year-old from wanting to wear his USA gear out in public. He went shopping for a Canadian flag to fit in. But even having recruited Will intgo their ranks, there was no consolation for the Canucks. The air had been released from Vancouver that night. The city was completely deflated. But that would markedly change one week later.
The next day, we all went to the US Women's semifinal hockey game vs. Sweden. I had reported that tickets were expected and difficult to find, but I thought I might be able to just show up to some venues and score tickets outside. Once again, I was right. We were able to score 4 tickets for $100. Not a bad deal for tickets that were $200 apiece at face value. The US women won, and advanced to the gold medal game against Canada. It was great waving the American flag and chanting U-S-A!
We were able to score front row tickets to a US curling match for $20 apiece, so close to the "house" that we were able to hear the guys conferring. I went to a Switzerland/ Belarus hockey game the next day (for $20 a ticket), and ended up sitting in the 3rd row. It was a great game, and ended up going to a shootout, with Switzerland winning.
My kids really embraced the Olympic Spirit. They loved the flag-waving, the positive attitude and international feel of the Games. They loved the pin trading, the mascots, and the family-friendly vibe. Will said it's one of the best vacations we've ever had. So good, Will cried as we pulled out of Vancouver. It was an interesting sociological experiment with the kids. Gigi is very much a leader. She reveled in waving the stars and stripes, and being different, since there were so few Americans there. Truly, there were probably more Russians and Czechs in the streets than Americans. Will is a follower by nature, and wanted Canadian stuff to blend in with the crowd.
Will is clearly taking his new Canadian allegiance seriously. He didn't want to leave. Once we got back home, the questions began.
"Can we move to Canada?" Will asked earnestly.
"Well, there's a whole work visa issue that would have to be dealt with", I replied, hoping to baffle him into submission. It didn't work.
"You mean you can only use credit cards in Canada?"
"No...it's just that we're American, and...we're not moving there, okay?"
"But can we go back to the Olympics?"
"I wish we could, Will, but there's only a few days left and you have school and I have work and we just can't make it happen. I'm sorry."
Will wiped away a tear. "Can we go back to Vancouver when the Olympics come back?"
"Well, the Olympics won't come back to Vancouver. It only happens every four years, and next time it'll be in Russia. I don't know if we could make it there."
Will paused, and then apprarently reasoned that the language barrier was what made a trip to Soschi in 2014 unlikely.
"When will the Olympics come to a city in Canada that speaks English?"
I told him I didn't know. It could be a long time. The crying got a little more hysteric.
"I just love Canada!" Will wailed. "You know, there are kids in my class that don't even know about Canada."
"Well", I said, trying to follow the logic of a 9-year-old, "I'll tell you what. You and me will sit down and watch the rest of the Olympics on TV."
"Nooo!" Will cried, "NBC's Olympic coverage sucks!"
And when the kid is right, he's right. NBC's tape-delayed, star-obsessed, pro-American progaganda is ridiculous. In Canada, we watched the actual Olympic games, most of them live on CTV, as they were actually happening. There were no flowery 5-minute biographies on Shawn White, no slo-mo montage of Lindsey Vonn's quest for gold. None of that garbage. The Games provide enough drama in themselves. You don't need to sell real sports fans on sports. Just show us the damn competition as it happens. That's reality TV at its best! NBC paid billions for the Olympics, and chooses to show next to nothing. So here we are, 2 hours from the Olympics, and we're being forced to watch events that happened 10 hours earlier. It made me sick to my stomach. The final straw for me was the US/Switzerland hockey quarterfinal, which hapened on noon on Monday, but NBC--apparently determined to piss off as many people as possible-- decided to tape delay the game 3 hours for the West Coast. Seriously? I was forced to watch the thing on my computer, cursing NBC the entire time.
NBC did decide to air the US/Canada gold medal game live. They made quite a show of the fact that they were actually airing it "live", as if it was 1955 and televising a live sporting event was something novel. It was for NBC, in their lustful quest for prime-time ratings.
That game, however, might have been the greatest hockey game I've ever seen. Canada won it in overtime, and it was one for the ages. Of course, it had to be the Canadian hockey poster boy, Sidney Crosby, scoring the game winner. It couldn't have been scripted any better.
Maybe Will is on to something. Next Olympics, perhaps we will move to Canada. Just so we can watch the actual Olympic Games on TV, and not the processed, pre-packaged crap that NBC foists upon us.
Hootenanny for Haiti
The other day, my son Will said to me, "It seems like you're getting more famous lately." I laughed. I mentioned this, in passing, to my wife, you know, just as a funny aside. She comes back with, "You think you are." I spent 15 minutes dissecting those four words, trying to get her to explain how she came to the conclusion that I think I am some sort of a big deal. Exasperated, she exhaled, "You need to realize the world doesn't revolve around you." I am not a scientist, and I don't know much about orbits and things, but there have been a few moments lately where it actually seemed like the world did revolve around me.
I am not an egomaniac. Seriously. But you would not believe all the cool stuff that has happened to me lately.
For the past 9 years or so, I have taken part in the Seattle Thunderbirds Hockey Challenge. It's a fundraiser to beneifit the Ronald McDonald House. The Challenge has raised over $4 million for the House. It's a great cause and a fun event, the one night a year when I get to rub elbows with famous Hollywood types, and be a sort of "celebrity" for a day.
I joined Eric Rosenbaum, Michael Rosenbaum, Jamie Huscroft, Cameron Bancroft, and Jason Thompson on a trip the Ronald McDonald House, and visited some of the families there. It is always fantastic to go there and spread a little joy to these families who are staying there while their kids get treated at Children's Hospital.
I met this beautiful little girl named Jade. She has bone cancer. We shared stories about our chemo treatments. I showed her pictures of me with a bald head, and she thought I looked pretty goofy. Fortunately, both of us are done with chemo and Jade will be going home soon.
It's a little weird when you meet folks that are wearing your jersey around.
I have played in this event for many years now with Michael Rosenbaum, who played Lex Luthor on the TV show, "Smallville". I've gotten to know Michael and his brother Eric pretty well over the years. I've also gotten to know Jason Thompson from "General Hospital", who has played in the event for the past four years. Jason is originally from Edmonton, and is a fantastic hockey player. At first, I'll admit, it was kind of strange hanging out with famous Hollywood types. I didn't know quite what to say, but you quickly realize that they are just people. Famous people have the same issues as we all have, they just happen to have high profile jobs. We've been teammates for years, and I consider them friends. It's kind of fun learning the inside scoop about the world of show biz, too.
So, that was Saturday night.
Sunday night, I was invited to speak at "A Hootenanny for Haiti", a benefit rock concert featuring some high-profile Seattle musicians: Duff McKagan from Guns n' Roses, Mike McCready, Stone Gossard and Matt Cameron from Pearl Jam, Kim Warnick, Star Anna, Kristen Ward, Kim Virant, Mark Pickerel, and many others. It was a sold-out concert at the Showbox at the Market to benefit Partners in Health's Stand With Haiti Program, which provides medical care and supplies, along with training for Haitian doctors, who are overwhelmed by the amount of people needing care after the horrible earthquake there.
I travelled to Haiti shortly after the earthquake, and was deeply affected by what I encountered there. As I wrote in a previous entry, the situation there is dire, and the recovery for that nation will take many years. I am committed to doing what I can to get help for those people.
I was contacted, quite unexpectedly, by a lovely woman named Debra Heesch, who is the booking manager for the Seattle Theatre Group. She was organizing the concert, and wanted to know if I'd be interested in saying a few words about my trip to Haiti and make a couple of announcements at the show. I don't know if I have ever replied more quickly to an email. Speak at an event with some of my favorite artists? Hang out with famous rock stars? In!
She invited me to come meet some of the folks at a rehearsal at the Showbox on Saturday night. Unfortunately, I couldn't make it, because of my prior commitment to the Hockey Challenge. Debra graciously invited me to swing by her house and attend a jam session with some of the performers in her basement on Thursday night. I asked Will if he would like to come with me and meet some famous rock stars.
"Nah..." Will murmured, staring intently at the XBOX game he was playing.
See, here's the thing. I ask Will about 12 times a day about travelling somewhere. If he wants to come to the store, if he's ready to go to basketball practice. I always get the same answer. It's instinctual with him.
"Nah..."
But suddenly what I had just said to him registered. He glanced up from his game and said, "Famous Rock Stars?"
"Yeah. Wanna come?"
"Okay."
So off we went.
As we walked into the basement, the jam session was in full swing. It is a little daunting to walk into a room and have the eyes of musicians that you have long admired, suddenly focus directly on you, wondering what the heck you are doing there.
Pearl Jam guitarist Mike McCready was leading the session, and as I looked around, I recognized Mark Pickerel from Screaming Trees, Kim Warnick from the Fastbacks, Chris Friel from Sweetwater, Jeff Rouse from Loaded, Kim Virant from Lazy Susan, Gary Westlake, who has played with everybody, and several others. Will and I were introduced to everyone, and they couldn't have been more amiable. It was a terrific experience to watch these amazing musicians work through the songs for the benefit concert in this intimate setting. I learned later that this basement was actually the place where the "Hootenanny for Haiti" was born. It's a sort of home base for all of these great Seattle musicians, who just get together and jam for fun. When they learned of the situation in Haiti, they decided to bring the basement show to the stage and present it to the public. And what a presentation it was. It turned out to be one of the most amazing music events this city has seen in quite a while.
I show up at the Showbox Will Call table and secured the very first backstage rock show passes of my life. All I know about backstage at a rock show is what I've seen on TV and on Wayne's World. I proudly flashed the pass to the amply tattooed and pierced security guard, who informed me that I needed to actually adhere the pass to my body. I slapped it on my chest, and she gave me the okay to enter that area. I entered an unmarked doorway adjacent to the ladies' room. It was a closet. The tattooed guard pointed me toward the other side of the stage.
The backstage area was cramped and crowded before the show. There were about 15 musicians on the bill, many of whom played at the same time on stage, a throwback to the Hootenannies of the folk era. Several of them were gathered together backstage, working the harmonies on Allison Krauss' "I'll Fly Away", which was to be the evening's finale. Mike McCready walked up to me, shook my hand and thanked me for coming. He asked if he could grab me a water, and pointed me toward the food they had catered in. I tried to play it cool as I looked around and noticed Duff McKagan absently picking at his guitar, while talking with Pearl Jam drummer Matt Cameron. Pearl Jam guitarist Stone Gossard was chatting with Star Anna, an amazing up-and-coming singer with a booming voice. It was heady stuff. I tried my best to stay out the way and not be a complete idiot.
The first set contained some amazing performances: Kim Virant and Duff McKagan doing Petty and Nicks' "Stop Dragging My Heart Around", Mark Pickerel fronted a great version of Petty's "Even the Losers", McCready sang lead on the Stones' "Dead Flowers", and Kim Warnick took the stage for the first time in six years to sing a breezy version of Belinda Carlisle's "Heaven is a Place on Earth", to close out the first set. Then I was on.
I have done dozens of speaking gigs over the years, but nothing quite like this. I walked up on stage and the spotlight hit me square in the eyes. I got a bit of a cheer from the crowd when I walked up, which was nice. I had prepared some things to say about Haiti, and about what I have learned about the situation there, and how much we appreciated the folks showing up and supporting the cause. I think most of it made sense, but it was disconcerting standing in front of a packed house full of rock fans, murmuring and shuffling around, waiting for the show to continue. Ashley, Mike McCready's wife, couldn't have been nicer, and helped out with the raffle items on stage, which included some fantastic Pearl Jam collector items. Kim Virant played the role of Vanna White, pulling out the tickets so I could read them. It was good fun and the crowd appreciated it. Then we got the heck off the stage, and the show continued.
The second set was truly astounding. For a Seattle rock fan, it was a nostalgic tour de force. They pulled out some Mad Season, some Mother Lovebone, some Stones. Duff fronted a version of "Knocking on Heaven's Door". Towards the end, Kim Warnick joined Stone, Mike and Duff as they plugged in for Iggy Pop's "I Wanna Be Your Dog". McCready grabbed a guys' Heineken bottle from the front row and used it as a slide on his guitar, then spilled the remains of the bottle all over the crowd. It was amazing, and the crowd ate it up. Or drank it up, as the case may be.
As they finished that song, I went backstage to grab a beer from the fridge. I noticed that there was only one beer left. I thought to myself, "Do I take the last beer from the rock stars?" I reasoned that the rock stars would definitely find more beer, so I went ahead and cracked it open. Just then, Kim Warnick came back and checked the fridge and let out an audible, disappointed "Ohhhhhh." I handed Kim my beer, saying, "You deserve it."
Kim replied, "That's what she said."
During the show, I was walking to the men's room and a large, burly guy stopped me and said, "Hey man. I just wanted to tell you something." Tears started welling in his eyes. "I think you're awesome," he said. "I am going through a divorce and it's ripping me apart. But I think about you and what you've gone through and it gives me strength. You're a real inspiration."
How do you handle stuff like that? I don't know. I told him that it's all about taking the obstacles that life throws your way head on and just keep moving onward. I gave him a little man hug and we went our separate ways.
Cancer is a curse, but it has also been a blessing. By sharing what I went through and being open and honest with folks, some good has come of it. More good than I ever would have imagined. But it also comes with a major responsibility. I am constantly contacted by folks who want to share intimate detals of their life with me. They are open with me, I believe, because I have shared intimate details of my life with them. I take this responsibility seriously. It's kind of like how I feel about Haiti. Those people shared their pain with me, and I relayed their stories to a larger audience. I guess I'm not a very good reporter, because I can't remain objective when faced with stories like this. I just can't get it out of my mind. I am determined to get those folks some help.
So, there it is. Am I an egomaniac? I hope not. I know one thing for sure. I am very fortunate. Very blessed. And I am very thankful.
I am not an egomaniac. Seriously. But you would not believe all the cool stuff that has happened to me lately.
For the past 9 years or so, I have taken part in the Seattle Thunderbirds Hockey Challenge. It's a fundraiser to beneifit the Ronald McDonald House. The Challenge has raised over $4 million for the House. It's a great cause and a fun event, the one night a year when I get to rub elbows with famous Hollywood types, and be a sort of "celebrity" for a day.
I joined Eric Rosenbaum, Michael Rosenbaum, Jamie Huscroft, Cameron Bancroft, and Jason Thompson on a trip the Ronald McDonald House, and visited some of the families there. It is always fantastic to go there and spread a little joy to these families who are staying there while their kids get treated at Children's Hospital.
I met this beautiful little girl named Jade. She has bone cancer. We shared stories about our chemo treatments. I showed her pictures of me with a bald head, and she thought I looked pretty goofy. Fortunately, both of us are done with chemo and Jade will be going home soon.
It's a little weird when you meet folks that are wearing your jersey around.
I have played in this event for many years now with Michael Rosenbaum, who played Lex Luthor on the TV show, "Smallville". I've gotten to know Michael and his brother Eric pretty well over the years. I've also gotten to know Jason Thompson from "General Hospital", who has played in the event for the past four years. Jason is originally from Edmonton, and is a fantastic hockey player. At first, I'll admit, it was kind of strange hanging out with famous Hollywood types. I didn't know quite what to say, but you quickly realize that they are just people. Famous people have the same issues as we all have, they just happen to have high profile jobs. We've been teammates for years, and I consider them friends. It's kind of fun learning the inside scoop about the world of show biz, too.
So, that was Saturday night.
Sunday night, I was invited to speak at "A Hootenanny for Haiti", a benefit rock concert featuring some high-profile Seattle musicians: Duff McKagan from Guns n' Roses, Mike McCready, Stone Gossard and Matt Cameron from Pearl Jam, Kim Warnick, Star Anna, Kristen Ward, Kim Virant, Mark Pickerel, and many others. It was a sold-out concert at the Showbox at the Market to benefit Partners in Health's Stand With Haiti Program, which provides medical care and supplies, along with training for Haitian doctors, who are overwhelmed by the amount of people needing care after the horrible earthquake there.
I travelled to Haiti shortly after the earthquake, and was deeply affected by what I encountered there. As I wrote in a previous entry, the situation there is dire, and the recovery for that nation will take many years. I am committed to doing what I can to get help for those people.
I was contacted, quite unexpectedly, by a lovely woman named Debra Heesch, who is the booking manager for the Seattle Theatre Group. She was organizing the concert, and wanted to know if I'd be interested in saying a few words about my trip to Haiti and make a couple of announcements at the show. I don't know if I have ever replied more quickly to an email. Speak at an event with some of my favorite artists? Hang out with famous rock stars? In!
She invited me to come meet some of the folks at a rehearsal at the Showbox on Saturday night. Unfortunately, I couldn't make it, because of my prior commitment to the Hockey Challenge. Debra graciously invited me to swing by her house and attend a jam session with some of the performers in her basement on Thursday night. I asked Will if he would like to come with me and meet some famous rock stars.
"Nah..." Will murmured, staring intently at the XBOX game he was playing.
See, here's the thing. I ask Will about 12 times a day about travelling somewhere. If he wants to come to the store, if he's ready to go to basketball practice. I always get the same answer. It's instinctual with him.
"Nah..."
But suddenly what I had just said to him registered. He glanced up from his game and said, "Famous Rock Stars?"
"Yeah. Wanna come?"
"Okay."
So off we went.
As we walked into the basement, the jam session was in full swing. It is a little daunting to walk into a room and have the eyes of musicians that you have long admired, suddenly focus directly on you, wondering what the heck you are doing there.
Pearl Jam guitarist Mike McCready was leading the session, and as I looked around, I recognized Mark Pickerel from Screaming Trees, Kim Warnick from the Fastbacks, Chris Friel from Sweetwater, Jeff Rouse from Loaded, Kim Virant from Lazy Susan, Gary Westlake, who has played with everybody, and several others. Will and I were introduced to everyone, and they couldn't have been more amiable. It was a terrific experience to watch these amazing musicians work through the songs for the benefit concert in this intimate setting. I learned later that this basement was actually the place where the "Hootenanny for Haiti" was born. It's a sort of home base for all of these great Seattle musicians, who just get together and jam for fun. When they learned of the situation in Haiti, they decided to bring the basement show to the stage and present it to the public. And what a presentation it was. It turned out to be one of the most amazing music events this city has seen in quite a while.
I show up at the Showbox Will Call table and secured the very first backstage rock show passes of my life. All I know about backstage at a rock show is what I've seen on TV and on Wayne's World. I proudly flashed the pass to the amply tattooed and pierced security guard, who informed me that I needed to actually adhere the pass to my body. I slapped it on my chest, and she gave me the okay to enter that area. I entered an unmarked doorway adjacent to the ladies' room. It was a closet. The tattooed guard pointed me toward the other side of the stage.
The backstage area was cramped and crowded before the show. There were about 15 musicians on the bill, many of whom played at the same time on stage, a throwback to the Hootenannies of the folk era. Several of them were gathered together backstage, working the harmonies on Allison Krauss' "I'll Fly Away", which was to be the evening's finale. Mike McCready walked up to me, shook my hand and thanked me for coming. He asked if he could grab me a water, and pointed me toward the food they had catered in. I tried to play it cool as I looked around and noticed Duff McKagan absently picking at his guitar, while talking with Pearl Jam drummer Matt Cameron. Pearl Jam guitarist Stone Gossard was chatting with Star Anna, an amazing up-and-coming singer with a booming voice. It was heady stuff. I tried my best to stay out the way and not be a complete idiot.
The first set contained some amazing performances: Kim Virant and Duff McKagan doing Petty and Nicks' "Stop Dragging My Heart Around", Mark Pickerel fronted a great version of Petty's "Even the Losers", McCready sang lead on the Stones' "Dead Flowers", and Kim Warnick took the stage for the first time in six years to sing a breezy version of Belinda Carlisle's "Heaven is a Place on Earth", to close out the first set. Then I was on.
I have done dozens of speaking gigs over the years, but nothing quite like this. I walked up on stage and the spotlight hit me square in the eyes. I got a bit of a cheer from the crowd when I walked up, which was nice. I had prepared some things to say about Haiti, and about what I have learned about the situation there, and how much we appreciated the folks showing up and supporting the cause. I think most of it made sense, but it was disconcerting standing in front of a packed house full of rock fans, murmuring and shuffling around, waiting for the show to continue. Ashley, Mike McCready's wife, couldn't have been nicer, and helped out with the raffle items on stage, which included some fantastic Pearl Jam collector items. Kim Virant played the role of Vanna White, pulling out the tickets so I could read them. It was good fun and the crowd appreciated it. Then we got the heck off the stage, and the show continued.
The second set was truly astounding. For a Seattle rock fan, it was a nostalgic tour de force. They pulled out some Mad Season, some Mother Lovebone, some Stones. Duff fronted a version of "Knocking on Heaven's Door". Towards the end, Kim Warnick joined Stone, Mike and Duff as they plugged in for Iggy Pop's "I Wanna Be Your Dog". McCready grabbed a guys' Heineken bottle from the front row and used it as a slide on his guitar, then spilled the remains of the bottle all over the crowd. It was amazing, and the crowd ate it up. Or drank it up, as the case may be.
As they finished that song, I went backstage to grab a beer from the fridge. I noticed that there was only one beer left. I thought to myself, "Do I take the last beer from the rock stars?" I reasoned that the rock stars would definitely find more beer, so I went ahead and cracked it open. Just then, Kim Warnick came back and checked the fridge and let out an audible, disappointed "Ohhhhhh." I handed Kim my beer, saying, "You deserve it."
Kim replied, "That's what she said."
During the show, I was walking to the men's room and a large, burly guy stopped me and said, "Hey man. I just wanted to tell you something." Tears started welling in his eyes. "I think you're awesome," he said. "I am going through a divorce and it's ripping me apart. But I think about you and what you've gone through and it gives me strength. You're a real inspiration."
How do you handle stuff like that? I don't know. I told him that it's all about taking the obstacles that life throws your way head on and just keep moving onward. I gave him a little man hug and we went our separate ways.
Cancer is a curse, but it has also been a blessing. By sharing what I went through and being open and honest with folks, some good has come of it. More good than I ever would have imagined. But it also comes with a major responsibility. I am constantly contacted by folks who want to share intimate detals of their life with me. They are open with me, I believe, because I have shared intimate details of my life with them. I take this responsibility seriously. It's kind of like how I feel about Haiti. Those people shared their pain with me, and I relayed their stories to a larger audience. I guess I'm not a very good reporter, because I can't remain objective when faced with stories like this. I just can't get it out of my mind. I am determined to get those folks some help.
So, there it is. Am I an egomaniac? I hope not. I know one thing for sure. I am very fortunate. Very blessed. And I am very thankful.
Covering the Olympics
The party in Vancouver during the Olympics is unlike anything the world has ever seen before.
The first thing that you notice is the unmistakable international feel. A lot of people don't realize that most countries rent out a restaurant, bar or hotel lobby for the Olympics, and that becomes that country's official "house" for the Games. It's a great way to take a quick trip around the world, and check out a different culture.
We visited the Swiss House (left), which is located on Granville Island, and the German House, which is located downtown.
We tried to get into some of the Provincial Houses, which are located in Yaletown, and the Russky House (the Science World Sphere to the right), but were denied entry. You need a special credential to get into a lot of these Houses at night, apparently, but you won't have any problem finding a party. The party spills out into the streets until the wee hours of the morning. More on that in a second.
I was working the first few days of the Olympics. I was live in Yaletown as the torch arrived in Vancouver on Thursday night, before the opening ceremonies. There was a huge party in the streets. Probably 100,000 people were on hand to witness the torch arrive and the fireworks show that followed.
I covered the Opening Ceremonies from a site called "Live City", which is a stage just down the street from BC Place, where folks come and watch the events, and live concerts and performances during the games, for free.
I wandered over to Live City on Saturday and caught a free show by Wilco, who blew me away with their live performance.
As I mentioned, the streets are packed downtown. The bars and restaurants are jam packed. The party is unlike anything I've witnessed before. It's sheer joy. Flag-waving, high-fiving, unaduterated joy. The Olympics is like the Super Bowl, Mardi Gras, Vegas, Disneyland and Bumbershoot all rolled into one.
The intersection of Robson and Burrard is an absolute Gong show. The streets are blocked off to vehicles for at least six city blocks.
Security, however, is very tight. Police and Yellow-clad Olympic security guards are visible everywhere, at all hours.
A zipline has been installed that carries you over Robson Square. It's become a popular attraction, with waits as long as five hours. My photographer and I were fortunate. We were able to do it for free the day before the Games began... as many times as we wanted. Sometimes being a member of media has its perks.
That does it. I gotta go back. I'm taking the family up for a few days. The Canada/ USA Hockey game is tomorrow. Downtown will be a very interesting place after that one wraps up.
I'll let you know what happens...
The first thing that you notice is the unmistakable international feel. A lot of people don't realize that most countries rent out a restaurant, bar or hotel lobby for the Olympics, and that becomes that country's official "house" for the Games. It's a great way to take a quick trip around the world, and check out a different culture.
We visited the Swiss House (left), which is located on Granville Island, and the German House, which is located downtown.
We tried to get into some of the Provincial Houses, which are located in Yaletown, and the Russky House (the Science World Sphere to the right), but were denied entry. You need a special credential to get into a lot of these Houses at night, apparently, but you won't have any problem finding a party. The party spills out into the streets until the wee hours of the morning. More on that in a second.
I was working the first few days of the Olympics. I was live in Yaletown as the torch arrived in Vancouver on Thursday night, before the opening ceremonies. There was a huge party in the streets. Probably 100,000 people were on hand to witness the torch arrive and the fireworks show that followed.
I covered the Opening Ceremonies from a site called "Live City", which is a stage just down the street from BC Place, where folks come and watch the events, and live concerts and performances during the games, for free.
I wandered over to Live City on Saturday and caught a free show by Wilco, who blew me away with their live performance.
As I mentioned, the streets are packed downtown. The bars and restaurants are jam packed. The party is unlike anything I've witnessed before. It's sheer joy. Flag-waving, high-fiving, unaduterated joy. The Olympics is like the Super Bowl, Mardi Gras, Vegas, Disneyland and Bumbershoot all rolled into one.
The intersection of Robson and Burrard is an absolute Gong show. The streets are blocked off to vehicles for at least six city blocks.
Security, however, is very tight. Police and Yellow-clad Olympic security guards are visible everywhere, at all hours.
A zipline has been installed that carries you over Robson Square. It's become a popular attraction, with waits as long as five hours. My photographer and I were fortunate. We were able to do it for free the day before the Games began... as many times as we wanted. Sometimes being a member of media has its perks.
That does it. I gotta go back. I'm taking the family up for a few days. The Canada/ USA Hockey game is tomorrow. Downtown will be a very interesting place after that one wraps up.
I'll let you know what happens...
Training for the Marathon
Don't tell anybody, but I'm gonna run the Rock n' Roll Marathon this year.
The whole thing. I did the half-marathon last year, halfway through chemo, so I figure now that I'm done with all that garbage, I should probably do the whole thing. I need to raise a few thousand bucks for my Team in Training, and the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, but that's the easy part.
There are some issues with my training. First, I'm out of shape. I'm only running 4-6 miles a day and crosstraining by playing hockey and skiing. I will need to increase my mileage when I start training for real at the end of this month. And there's this, too: As a result of radiation, I get a weird tingling numbness, down my spine and into my legs, anytime I drop my head. So, if I look down at my shoes when I run, for example, I suddenly go numb and can't feel my legs. The doctors warned me about this. There's a big fancy name for it. I should probably figure out how long this is going to last. So, even though I am three months removed from chemotherapy and radiation treatments, I am still affected by it.
I can't run very fast. Maybe I'll get faster as I start training. I should hope so. But right now, I struggle to make it five miles. That's strange for me. Here's the part where I start completely geeking out. I've run five marathons. My PR is 3:13, which would qualify me for Boston at my advanced age (42), but I made that time when I was 32. I would now need to break 3:20 in order to qualify for Boston. That's about 7:25 mile pace. It's ridiculous to think I could qualify, but honestly, I can't start training for a marathon without thinking about Boston now. It's road racing's Mecca. I vowed long ago that one day Boston will be mine. Oh yes. It will be mine.
But probably not this time. Like I said, I struggle to make it five miles right now.
I also hurt my arm somehow. Woke up on New Years' Eve morning, and my left arm was just throbbing something awful. 3 different docs say it's bursitis in my shoulder, but I still don't have full range of motion. It's been so painful, until just recently, that I couldn't run much at all. I'm icing it and doing some physical therapy. Clearly, 2009 wanted one more little twist of the knife on me.
So, I'm gonna run the marathon. Who's with me?
The whole thing. I did the half-marathon last year, halfway through chemo, so I figure now that I'm done with all that garbage, I should probably do the whole thing. I need to raise a few thousand bucks for my Team in Training, and the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, but that's the easy part.
There are some issues with my training. First, I'm out of shape. I'm only running 4-6 miles a day and crosstraining by playing hockey and skiing. I will need to increase my mileage when I start training for real at the end of this month. And there's this, too: As a result of radiation, I get a weird tingling numbness, down my spine and into my legs, anytime I drop my head. So, if I look down at my shoes when I run, for example, I suddenly go numb and can't feel my legs. The doctors warned me about this. There's a big fancy name for it. I should probably figure out how long this is going to last. So, even though I am three months removed from chemotherapy and radiation treatments, I am still affected by it.
I can't run very fast. Maybe I'll get faster as I start training. I should hope so. But right now, I struggle to make it five miles. That's strange for me. Here's the part where I start completely geeking out. I've run five marathons. My PR is 3:13, which would qualify me for Boston at my advanced age (42), but I made that time when I was 32. I would now need to break 3:20 in order to qualify for Boston. That's about 7:25 mile pace. It's ridiculous to think I could qualify, but honestly, I can't start training for a marathon without thinking about Boston now. It's road racing's Mecca. I vowed long ago that one day Boston will be mine. Oh yes. It will be mine.
But probably not this time. Like I said, I struggle to make it five miles right now.
I also hurt my arm somehow. Woke up on New Years' Eve morning, and my left arm was just throbbing something awful. 3 different docs say it's bursitis in my shoulder, but I still don't have full range of motion. It's been so painful, until just recently, that I couldn't run much at all. I'm icing it and doing some physical therapy. Clearly, 2009 wanted one more little twist of the knife on me.
So, I'm gonna run the marathon. Who's with me?
Haiti
It was a strange Thursday. I got up at 6am to do a story at the Canadian border about a drill authorities were conducting on a potential health threat at the border during the Olympics. It's a two hour drive to Blaine, and another two hours back to Seattle. I got back to the station, wrote my story, and got ready to head home. Just then, our assignment manager Cheri Mossburg walked up to my desk and asked, very matter-of-factly, "Hey Wix. You wanna go to Haiti? Like, right now?"
I did have time to head home and pack quickly. I knew that we were going to fly to Port au Prince, the heavily damaged Haitian capital with the Air Force on a C-17 but I really had no idea what I was in for, and needed to be prepared for anything. I stopped by the store and bought some beef jerky, trail mix and water. I packed a sleeping bag and a change of clothes into a duffel bag and rushed back to the station to report for duty.
My photographer Matt Scholz, Cheri, and I arrived at McChord AFB at 10pm. The mission was to load some huge hauling machines onto the C17, transport the machines to Haiti, where the Airmen of the 62nd Aerial Port Squadron would unload the equipment, and then go to work helping transport foood, water and medical supplies onto trucks to get it out to the people who so desperately need it after the 7.0 magnitude earthquake that decimated the country. That C-17 would then be loaded up with evacuees and brought back to the US.
We ended up taking off about 3:30am. It was a 7 hour flight to Port au Prince. I tried to sleep on the steel floor of the C-17, but it's tough to do. It's uncomfortable, cold, and loud. Ther C-17 is an engineering marvel, capable of caryying 550,000 pounds of cargo and landing in less than 2500 feet. It's designed for landings in hostile territory and quick loading and unloading of personnel and equipment. It's not designed for luxurious slumber. I probably slept two hours. We arrived in Port au Prince at 12:30pm.
The moment we landed, the airmen of the 62nd launched into action. These men volunteered for this mission, working 20-hour days in the searing heat, to help the people of Haiti. It's a true humanitarian mission.
We weren't able to look out the windows on approach, because there aren't any windows to look out of. Once the cargo doors opened, the bright sunshine, heat and humidity was a shock to the system. I surveyed the airfield and saw dozens of airplanes, helicopters, jeeps, and trucks buzzing and darting every which way. It was chaos. There are so many people trying to help, but the logistics of getting hundreds of millions of dollars worth of aid into this dinky little airstrip, unloading it, and getting it to the people is challenging.
The airport was heavily damaged. It was eerie walking through parts of the airport that were abandoned. The walls were cracked. Sunlight streamed in through gaping holes. The place continues to fall apart. It will have to be torn down and rebuilt.
The lines at the airport are long. The state department told me that the only people that are given clearance to evacuate on cargo planes are people with valid US passports, visas, or guardians of children with passports or visas. One of the busiest industries in Haiti at the moment is fake documentation. People are desperate to get out, and those documents are being checked carefully at the airport and the border. We only spent a few hours on the ground in Haiti. The Cargo jet was loaded with evacuees, many of whom told me that it took them many days to round up their documentation just so they could get out.
The stories that those evacuees shared with me are seared into my memory. One young man told me that he was visiting family from New York when the neighborhood around him suddenly, and violently, disintigrated around him. "I watched kids my age die in a quick second", he said. "It was just terror. Terror." He told me that he lost an aunt and many friends in the earthquake. He wanted to stay and try to recover the bodies, but they are buried so deeply that he says that there was no hope of that for some time. Another woman fought back tears as she told me how she watched children die in front of her, and injured people, helpless and immobile, starve to death in the streets. A nurse who went down to help right after the quake came back scarred from her experience. "We had to amputate limbs to save people, but there's not enough sterilizer, so the wounds get infected, and we have to cut again. We did the best we can, but there's only so much we can do. It's horrible to see these people live like animals."
The recovery in Haiti will take many years, if not decades. It is a country that has been so thoroughly destroyed that no real infrastructure
exists any longer. It was a desperately poor country to begin with. More than half of the people of Haiti lived on less than a dollar a day before the earthquake, and now they have nothing. There's little prospect of earning a living there. They need help badly right now. After the emergency relief ends 6 months or a year from now, the need will not end. The truth is, as callous as it sounds, is that Haiti is essentially a clean slate right now: politically, structurally and economically. There is a great opportunity to rebuild that country the right way, and help the survivors build a new, strong, proud nation.
On February 28th, "A Hootenanny for Haiti" will bring together Pearl Jam's Mike McCready, Guns and Roses' Duff McKagan, and a slew of great Seattle musicians for an amazing night of music at the Showbox at the Market. I will speak briefly about what I've learned about the situation there. All of the proceeds will go to benefit relief efforts in Haiti. I hope to see you there.
I did have time to head home and pack quickly. I knew that we were going to fly to Port au Prince, the heavily damaged Haitian capital with the Air Force on a C-17 but I really had no idea what I was in for, and needed to be prepared for anything. I stopped by the store and bought some beef jerky, trail mix and water. I packed a sleeping bag and a change of clothes into a duffel bag and rushed back to the station to report for duty.
My photographer Matt Scholz, Cheri, and I arrived at McChord AFB at 10pm. The mission was to load some huge hauling machines onto the C17, transport the machines to Haiti, where the Airmen of the 62nd Aerial Port Squadron would unload the equipment, and then go to work helping transport foood, water and medical supplies onto trucks to get it out to the people who so desperately need it after the 7.0 magnitude earthquake that decimated the country. That C-17 would then be loaded up with evacuees and brought back to the US.
We ended up taking off about 3:30am. It was a 7 hour flight to Port au Prince. I tried to sleep on the steel floor of the C-17, but it's tough to do. It's uncomfortable, cold, and loud. Ther C-17 is an engineering marvel, capable of caryying 550,000 pounds of cargo and landing in less than 2500 feet. It's designed for landings in hostile territory and quick loading and unloading of personnel and equipment. It's not designed for luxurious slumber. I probably slept two hours. We arrived in Port au Prince at 12:30pm.
The moment we landed, the airmen of the 62nd launched into action. These men volunteered for this mission, working 20-hour days in the searing heat, to help the people of Haiti. It's a true humanitarian mission.
We weren't able to look out the windows on approach, because there aren't any windows to look out of. Once the cargo doors opened, the bright sunshine, heat and humidity was a shock to the system. I surveyed the airfield and saw dozens of airplanes, helicopters, jeeps, and trucks buzzing and darting every which way. It was chaos. There are so many people trying to help, but the logistics of getting hundreds of millions of dollars worth of aid into this dinky little airstrip, unloading it, and getting it to the people is challenging.
The airport was heavily damaged. It was eerie walking through parts of the airport that were abandoned. The walls were cracked. Sunlight streamed in through gaping holes. The place continues to fall apart. It will have to be torn down and rebuilt.
The lines at the airport are long. The state department told me that the only people that are given clearance to evacuate on cargo planes are people with valid US passports, visas, or guardians of children with passports or visas. One of the busiest industries in Haiti at the moment is fake documentation. People are desperate to get out, and those documents are being checked carefully at the airport and the border. We only spent a few hours on the ground in Haiti. The Cargo jet was loaded with evacuees, many of whom told me that it took them many days to round up their documentation just so they could get out.
The stories that those evacuees shared with me are seared into my memory. One young man told me that he was visiting family from New York when the neighborhood around him suddenly, and violently, disintigrated around him. "I watched kids my age die in a quick second", he said. "It was just terror. Terror." He told me that he lost an aunt and many friends in the earthquake. He wanted to stay and try to recover the bodies, but they are buried so deeply that he says that there was no hope of that for some time. Another woman fought back tears as she told me how she watched children die in front of her, and injured people, helpless and immobile, starve to death in the streets. A nurse who went down to help right after the quake came back scarred from her experience. "We had to amputate limbs to save people, but there's not enough sterilizer, so the wounds get infected, and we have to cut again. We did the best we can, but there's only so much we can do. It's horrible to see these people live like animals."
The recovery in Haiti will take many years, if not decades. It is a country that has been so thoroughly destroyed that no real infrastructure
exists any longer. It was a desperately poor country to begin with. More than half of the people of Haiti lived on less than a dollar a day before the earthquake, and now they have nothing. There's little prospect of earning a living there. They need help badly right now. After the emergency relief ends 6 months or a year from now, the need will not end. The truth is, as callous as it sounds, is that Haiti is essentially a clean slate right now: politically, structurally and economically. There is a great opportunity to rebuild that country the right way, and help the survivors build a new, strong, proud nation.
On February 28th, "A Hootenanny for Haiti" will bring together Pearl Jam's Mike McCready, Guns and Roses' Duff McKagan, and a slew of great Seattle musicians for an amazing night of music at the Showbox at the Market. I will speak briefly about what I've learned about the situation there. All of the proceeds will go to benefit relief efforts in Haiti. I hope to see you there.
It's Been A While...And Here's Why.
I haven't written on my blog in three months. I don't know why exactly. I have thought about sitting down and writing about a number of topics dozens of different times. But I never did. I promised some brilliant revelations. I might have a had a few along the way, but I don't know if they are really that brilliant.
The truth is, I needed a break to figure out who I am again. I am not the same person who was diagnosed with cancer 8 months ago. It was incredibly disconcerting to deal with the knowledge that my body, which I had trained to run marathons and compete athletically, had suddenly, and inexplicably, rebelled against me. It was difficult to suddenly realize that mortality isn't some far-off concept for me; I am actually going to die, and may have just gotten a glimpse at what my killer looks like.
After going through a season in which I waged a private health battle in a VERY public way, I turned my back on it for a while. During treatment, I was able to focus on fighting the enemy. I was single-minded in my desire. The adrenaline was pumping. Since the camera was rolling, and folks were actually reading my thoughts here (many of whom took those thoughts to heart using words like "inspiring" to describe it), I felt an obligation to keep feeding the monster I had created. Once treatment ended, and I destroyed that radiation mask, things changed.
I didn't have to feed the monster anymore. I lost the focus that I had while in the midst of the fight. My purpose suddenly wasn't clear. It was obvious to me that the process had changed me, but I couldn't decifer exactly how. It was like I had just walked into my warm house, after trudging miles through a violent storm, and realized that it's not my house. It was disorienting. So I retreated. I stopped writing, and for a time, I just stopped participating in life. I "checked out". Catherine allowed me to have "bad days" during treatment, in which I would just lay on the couch and let the world pass me by. After treatment, and a clean bill of health, she hasn't been quite so forgiving. It's not that I'm skirting responsibility. It's not laziness. That's not it. I have, however, built up a sort of resentment toward responsibility. Sometimes, it's just easier to curl up in a cocoon, and pretend it's not there.
I just won the battle for my life. Nothing else seems quite as important. I tried to explain to Catherine that "something" is going on with me right now. I can't quite explain it. It's led to some arguments. My son Will said, "You guys never argued until just a few weeks ago." It's true. We never argued in front of the kids, and we've never argued quite as angrily as we have. My love and respect for her has never wavered. She was my rock, my coach, and my trainer during treatment. She wants me to be more "present". I understand her frustration. I'm frustrated with myself, too. I have wondered, "Am I depressed?" I might be. I recently read a quarter of patients suffer depression after treatment, and it's very possible that's what's happening to me.
I made a conscious decision a few weeks ago, that I need to refocus my energy in another direction. I'm trying to snap out of it. So, I have poured myself into work. I have taken on some huge projects, including a series of stories on the upcoming Vancouver Olympics. I just returned from a brief trip to Haiti. I dedicated some long hours to the trip. The stories I filed, detailing the horrific situation there following the earthquake, launched a new passion in me. It has been good for my soul to focus on trying to raise awareness and get help for others once again (My Haiti trip will be a topic for a future blog post). I've been working hard. And so, far, it's good.
I spoke at the 2010 Hutch Awards luncheon today at Safeco Field. It was quite an honor to be asked to speak at the event, which supports the Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center. White Sox outfielder Mark Teahen was honored for his great work on and off the field. Former Major Leaguer Dave Dravecky, who lost his pitching arm to cancer, was the keynote speaker.
During my speech, I talked about the shock of the initial diagnosis, and how I dealt with treatment. I didn't tell them that I am still working through the mental part of it. In talking with other cancer survivors there, I learned that what I'm experiencing is pretty normal. Several of them told me that it took them years to understand what cancer really did to them mentally and emotionally. It really is a curse, and a blessing at the same time. I definitely feel that way. I'm just barely beginning to grasp what all of it means.
It's a work in progress.
The truth is, I needed a break to figure out who I am again. I am not the same person who was diagnosed with cancer 8 months ago. It was incredibly disconcerting to deal with the knowledge that my body, which I had trained to run marathons and compete athletically, had suddenly, and inexplicably, rebelled against me. It was difficult to suddenly realize that mortality isn't some far-off concept for me; I am actually going to die, and may have just gotten a glimpse at what my killer looks like.
After going through a season in which I waged a private health battle in a VERY public way, I turned my back on it for a while. During treatment, I was able to focus on fighting the enemy. I was single-minded in my desire. The adrenaline was pumping. Since the camera was rolling, and folks were actually reading my thoughts here (many of whom took those thoughts to heart using words like "inspiring" to describe it), I felt an obligation to keep feeding the monster I had created. Once treatment ended, and I destroyed that radiation mask, things changed.
I didn't have to feed the monster anymore. I lost the focus that I had while in the midst of the fight. My purpose suddenly wasn't clear. It was obvious to me that the process had changed me, but I couldn't decifer exactly how. It was like I had just walked into my warm house, after trudging miles through a violent storm, and realized that it's not my house. It was disorienting. So I retreated. I stopped writing, and for a time, I just stopped participating in life. I "checked out". Catherine allowed me to have "bad days" during treatment, in which I would just lay on the couch and let the world pass me by. After treatment, and a clean bill of health, she hasn't been quite so forgiving. It's not that I'm skirting responsibility. It's not laziness. That's not it. I have, however, built up a sort of resentment toward responsibility. Sometimes, it's just easier to curl up in a cocoon, and pretend it's not there.
I just won the battle for my life. Nothing else seems quite as important. I tried to explain to Catherine that "something" is going on with me right now. I can't quite explain it. It's led to some arguments. My son Will said, "You guys never argued until just a few weeks ago." It's true. We never argued in front of the kids, and we've never argued quite as angrily as we have. My love and respect for her has never wavered. She was my rock, my coach, and my trainer during treatment. She wants me to be more "present". I understand her frustration. I'm frustrated with myself, too. I have wondered, "Am I depressed?" I might be. I recently read a quarter of patients suffer depression after treatment, and it's very possible that's what's happening to me.
I made a conscious decision a few weeks ago, that I need to refocus my energy in another direction. I'm trying to snap out of it. So, I have poured myself into work. I have taken on some huge projects, including a series of stories on the upcoming Vancouver Olympics. I just returned from a brief trip to Haiti. I dedicated some long hours to the trip. The stories I filed, detailing the horrific situation there following the earthquake, launched a new passion in me. It has been good for my soul to focus on trying to raise awareness and get help for others once again (My Haiti trip will be a topic for a future blog post). I've been working hard. And so, far, it's good.
I spoke at the 2010 Hutch Awards luncheon today at Safeco Field. It was quite an honor to be asked to speak at the event, which supports the Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center. White Sox outfielder Mark Teahen was honored for his great work on and off the field. Former Major Leaguer Dave Dravecky, who lost his pitching arm to cancer, was the keynote speaker.
During my speech, I talked about the shock of the initial diagnosis, and how I dealt with treatment. I didn't tell them that I am still working through the mental part of it. In talking with other cancer survivors there, I learned that what I'm experiencing is pretty normal. Several of them told me that it took them years to understand what cancer really did to them mentally and emotionally. It really is a curse, and a blessing at the same time. I definitely feel that way. I'm just barely beginning to grasp what all of it means.
It's a work in progress.