Penning the Pandemic

I hope in a year I get to look back and reflect on this time from out the other side. As an eternal optimist, I'm confident that will happen but man, this is hard.

As I've mentioned previously, I'm an extreme extrovert. I'd have people over or go to other people's house every night if it was logistically possible. Even if that's not the case, seeing friends in a strictly social setting a couple of times a week has always been something that I enjoy, that I look forward to, and even before this pandemic, something I knew I needed.

With Covid-19, we've chosen to side with caution. Some even saying it's extreme or that we're "Living in fear". Sorry, but we aren't. We're not living in fear. We're listening to experts who've said time and time again that although my family is likely to come through unscathed, we could give it to someone who might not be so lucky. In addition, there are countless documented cases of young, healthy people losing their life or even limbs due to Covid complications. Even though our odds would be very good of a full recovery, it's not worth the risk. 

Needless to say, it's made things very difficult for me. I've mentioned this previously on Facebook, and might've on here (Frankly, I'm not going back to look), but my mental health has suffered, and I don't say that lightly or in jest. I have felt anxious. I don't know that I've felt depressed, but I haven't been myself for sure. 

During the summer, Keya and I did have small groups of people over to the house, usually no more than three. We kept it to people who we were fairly confident were taking precautions similar to ours. It helped. A lot. But now with a surge in cases due to pandemic fatigue and selfishness, we find ourselves nearly quarantined again. 

Zoom is nice. It's fine. I've really enjoyed those times when I get to see friends that I wouldn't see otherwise, or that we can't see face to face due to Covid, but it's not the same. It's a band-aid on a gun shot wound. I'd still love to see friends' faces on Zoom. It helps. But I miss the face-to-face. I miss playing host. I miss the shared experiences that come with being together.

I assigned a word to some of my feelings the other day that I hadn't even thought to assign to it previously: grief. I'm grieving over what very nearly is a lost year. The word came to mind as we have been discussing the death of a colleague at Weeping Water. Cancer took one of the brightest lights you could ever hope to meet. But as grief suddenly became ever-present here, I realized that was part of what I was feeling about 2020.

My coworkers both at Weeping Water and VCNebraska are absolutely friends. They're friends that we spend time with away from work, but it's different when you're at work rather than gathering together for happy hour, or getting together for a meal. Spike's has been another wonderful glimpse of normality (And yes, I played in a mask both indoor and outdoors, even when I was the only one), but that's on hold right now too. I am also angry at things that have been paused, stopped, cancelled, or postponed because of people not following healthcare workers recommendations and pleas.

Ordinarily, we'd take a family trip in the summer of at least a week to Colorado. Now, with Vivian's birth this year (She's awesome, by the way), that likely wasn't going to happen anyway, so no big deal. Since moving, I don't think I've been away from Colorado for more than about five months (summer trip to holidays), but the last time I left the State of Nebraska this year was in March when my good buddy Michael and I flew out to snowmobile just as the first pockets of Covid were beginning to pop up in the U.S.

We were going to spend a MUCH scaled-down Thanksgiving in Colorado. We had to pull the plug. No way that we could, in good conscience, see that many different family groups (Keya's and mine). I can't risk giving it to someone period, let alone members of our families who are in their 60's and 70's. 

Then came Everett's birthday. A day which was celebrated by video calls from his various grandparents, aunts and uncles, and cousins. I remembered a year prior when we had a house full of family and friends celebrating his second birthday. He was a champ, he has been throughout this thing, but man, I hurt. I wanted the same celebration this year, and every year, for him. I hope by Vivian's first we can be back to something like that.

So yeah, this is a long post to tell you that I'm grieving many things lost in 2020. I'm grieving what Covid has done and it might be a little selfish and maybe very narcissistic to think that you'll read this. However, as a conversation on the Pat and JT Podcast pointed out, this is very much like therapy for me. On top of that, I know I need to start prioritizing my needs and I need people to know how difficult this year has been. I've tried to check in on my friends, and I'm grateful to those who've checked in on me. 

I know the light is coming at the end of the tunnel. Yesterday, vaccines began being administered here in Lincoln. When the time comes that I am eligible, I will absolutely get vaccinated. Then, I will continue to mask and social distance until such time as the experts tell me it's safe to do otherwise. A month ago, I found out I have the antibodies against Covid, meaning I likely had it (Although I can tell you I had no symptoms). Until the all-clear is given, I will mask. I will stay home. I will do what is recommended to keep myself and others safe. I implore you to do the same.

We know what's driving the rise in infections and too many are flouting recommendations with the thought that, "It won't be me," or "If I get it, I get it." I understand. Healthy people are likely to survive it. However, your decision to go to church without a mask or eat in a restaurant may lead to someone's death even though they've followed guidance. I wouldn't want that on my conscience.

I don't see how it's worth it.

#WearADamnMask

Helpless

I've been battling what to do with this one for awhile. Repeatedly, I've gotten up to get my computer, but I've made a different decision. Finally, I decided it's time to do this. A huge part of the reason that I've gone back and forth is that I feel like this will be a long one. Buckle up, and thank you.

There are so many wrongs in this world that I want to help make right, but in so many cases, I feel completely helpless. I'm not sure this will be as cogent as I'd like it to be, but here we go. I'm going to try to do this with some sense of organization. 

The first category of helplessness involves science. At what point did we stop believing in expertise? The two most long-lasting examples of this right now are Climate Change and anti-vaxxers. Sadly, we can trace the anti-vaxxer trend to a completely fictitious article and Jenny McCarthy. I'm sure we can trace the origin of Climate Change denial, but it's become so prolific and has been around as long as I can remember, so it's felt ever-present.

One of the things I love most in life is winter. It's true. In fact, winter is home to my favorite leisure time activity, snowmobiling (Which, I realize, is not great for addressing Climate Change). The vast majority of scientists who study climate agree that Climate Change is human-caused. We have the means to fix it, but we don't. I realize it's because so many governments are beholden to large corporations and many of the most established peddle in fossil fuels and other means of emission.

It can seem insurmountable. We have an electric car (A Nissan Leaf). We have solar panels. We make conscious decisions in this house to try to do things that will reduce our footprint, like biking or walking rather than driving, but it feels like it's way too little. Every time I see a drought, or a hurricane, or some other weather phenomenon that has seemingly become all too common, I feel like I'm handcuffed. What more can I do to help? 

That leads to the second sciencey part of this post, Covid-19. For starters, like I think everyone, I'm VERY over this pandemic, but that doesn't mean it's time to be cavalier and pretend it's not ongoing.

Firstly, some people in this country need to reread the Constitution and it's associated amendments. Requiring masks does NOT infringe on ANYONE'S rights. In fact, in the Declaration of Independence, it lays out Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness. Pretty sure my wearing a mask helps solidify the right to life for myself and others. 

Again, WHY ARE WE NOT LISTENING TO SCIENCE? I hate it. I hate wearing masks when I go out. I hate not being able to emote and express as much as I usually do, but it's such a minor inconvenience that could possibly save countless lives. Again, I feel as though I'm rendered completely powerless every time I go someplace and some self-absorbed idiot isn't wearing a mask, or is wearing it wrong. IT GOES OVER YOUR NOSE AND MOUTH! If you want this thing to end, you are likely to have to make short-term deep sacrifices for a long-term gain. 

I just. Don't. Get. It. Yeah, all of the restrictions suck. I'm worried now that school is going to have to go fully virtual and that I'm going to lose the one glimpse of normality that I have which is Sunday night volleyball. Red state leaders won't do the things that would inconvenience us that might somehow infringe on our personal liberties...? As of today, the top five states in positive percentage for Covid-19 are in red states. Entirely. Why? Because they won't listen to science.

Again, left feeling totally helpless. I'm wearing my mask any place that's not my car or my house. I'm not going out. We haven't eaten in a restaurant since February. We have barely left the county in which we live since March. 

If we'd follow health expert recommendations, I also wouldn't be frightened that many of my favorite places in Lincoln would close during this pandemic. It's so ridiculous that this is even a conversation we are having right now. 

Let's get a little heavy. BLM. Wanna feel helpless? Try to talk about #BlackLivesMatter with people who don't yet recognize their privilege.

I'm not going to discuss again here the ways I feel as though I have privilege beyond white privilege. They're in a previous post. I think it's in "I'm a Racist" but I'm sure it's elsewhere.

I'll be the first to admit that I've had, and will continue to have, evolving views on this as I learn more. I was awful to gay people in high school. I've learned. It's constant learning. I hope I continue to have friends who help me learn.

I see so much ridiculous stuff about Black Lives Matter, equal rights for all People of Color, gay rights, trans rights, women's rights, and so many other marginalized groups who are NOT TREATED EQUALLY TO WHITE MEN IN THIS COUNTRY AND OTHERS AROUND THE WORLD. "Why aren't BLM protesters doing something about black-on-black crime?" THEY ARE. There are thousands of advocates on the ground in those communities working, because they are deeply invested in their communities. However, what they're fighting for on the national stage is that they shouldn't fear for their lives in every interaction that we, as white people, take for granted, including law enforcement.

Look, your inability to oppress others wouldn't actually suppress your rights... except for your right to oppress other people. I hear what can only be described as ignorance when people fire back with "All lives matter." While you're right, it's hard for me to take that seriously when you're not acknowledging the struggle that all of these marginalized groups face on a day-to-day basis.

When will I not feel helpless? When my Puerto Rican friend, who's nearly as tall as I am and much more muscular, doesn't have stories about having to name drop a friend on the PD to avoid what could've been a tragic traffic stop. When my gay friends don't have to worry about their marriages being invalidated based on who is elected. My trans friends shouldn't have to fear for their lives just because they're trying to live who they are. 

There are countless other cases. Look, I want to go back to having long, funny, inspirational, whatever pieces I used to write before. Used to write before. Goodness that's redundant. Anyway, I see too much in this world that I want to fix before Everett and Vivian get a stake in this world. I try to do everything I can. I know I'm not, but I want to do more. I want to learn.

I'm a Racist

Got your attention, didn't I? It's definitely something hard to admit, but over the last two months I've had a lot of time to reflect. Yes, even with a newborn. One of the things that I've realized is that I've definitely done things that were racist, whether I knew it or meant it at the time or not.

Let's be very clear. I am not, and never have been, overtly racist. While I've definitely used racist language, I've never directed it a person. That doesn't make it okay. I've also said things that seem positive, but are racist, for example that black people have good singing voices (a thought I definitely did have).

So, one of the things I've had to come to terms with since the death of George Floyd and the subsequent reignition of the Black Lives Matter demonstrations is that despite the fact that I'm not overtly racist, there are racist things that are inherent in me that aren't my fault, nor my parents', but rather part of this country.

Some of those things are the way we learn history. I'm reading Lies my Teacher Told Me which is an eye-opening book, especially for a TEACHER! I won't go in to details about the things I've learned, because I'm honestly somewhat ashamed of the things I haven't learned until the summer of my fortieth year.

So, coming to terms with that is pretty difficult. It's especially tough for someone whose worked very hard not to judge a person until he gets to know them. I don't look at a person's ethnicity as anything other than part of their story that I'm generally anxious to hear. As trite as it is, skin color doesn't play a role in whether or not I judge a person's value.

Look. Overall, this is hard to articulate. Part of that is because of the difficulty in tone on the interwebs, and part of that is because it's difficult for me to speak to what this is without rambling on and making it sound defensive.

If you're reading this, you likely know my heart. I hope you understand that my admission of, "I'm a racist" is a step in my ongoing effort to be better. I want to be a better parent, better friend, and better citizen. I've mentioned in a previous blog how as much as I fancy myself an ally to marginalized groups, I screw up as often, if not moreso, than I get allyship right.

Was this intentionally controversial? The title, yes. But I needed to get this off my chest. While this is hard to type, I needed it out there. Lies my Teacher Told Me is the first book I'm reading to help make myself better. Next will be So You Want to Talk About Race? and then White Fragility. I often say that I hope I never think of myself as a great teacher because that may cause me to stop striving to improve. On the same token, I sort of hope I'm never completely anti-racist. I hope I can continue to grow and be better. My kids and all future generations deserve that.

Gratitude

Once upon a time, my friend Lotus and I would regularly post gratitude lists on the interwebs. It's something that I liked to do, and something I've definitely gotten away from. It struck me that doing just that might make me feel a little more... centered?... in this bonkers time.

Every night, in my prayers I share my gratitude to God. I'm in awe of the ways I've been blessed.

I'm grateful for my family. Not just my family of origin and my extended family, but this incredible little family I get to spend every day with. I never would've imagined that I'd have the wife and kids that I do. It's incredible.

I'm grateful that my parents raised me to be the man that I am. Mom and Dad always gave my brother and I the confidence and skills to pursue what we were good at while never making us believe we were capable of something we weren't. It's a confidence grounded in reality. I hope I can be half the parent they were to me.

I'm grateful for my brother(s) both real and... well, real. I've a lifelong friend in Jay, the brother with whom I shared a house growing up, but also in RJ and Brian. As my peers and contemporaries for nearly 40 years now, they've been critical as allies and (occasionally) opponents to helping me be who I am.

I'm grateful to so many friends whose names are too many to mention. That's part of why I'm grateful. Alana, Dave, Mikeal, Debbie, Whitney, Jeff and Abby, Doug, Du, Alan, Alex, Alex and Angela, Angela, Bev, Andrea,.. look, part of the reason I hate listing these things is that I will inevitably leave someone out. I love that even though I've moved from Colorado, each time I get to see you, it's like we haven't skipped a beat. It's so incredible to see how these people have grown, and to assume that I've also grown (have I?), but we can instantly transport back to past times and memories that bring so much joy. I owe so many of you so much more than I could ever repay.

I'm grateful to a completely different group of friends, and family really, whose names again are too many to mention, but you've made Nebraska a new home for me. Michael, Annika, Rachel, Brett, Mader, Bryce, Mak, Jason and Shannon, Cici, Lindsey, Alli, Sam,... again far too many to list here. On top of that, marrying into an incredible family which has brought me great friends like Mike, Pinky, Micah, Dan, Meredy, and Travis. That doesn't even begin to address Keya's extended family.

A whole other category of gratitude has to go to my Aunt Linda, Uncle Dave, and all of my cousins on the side- Matt, Connie, Claire, Izzy, Lydia, and Laurel; Jenny, Scott, Jake, Alex, and Reid; Sam, Andrew, Owen, Sylvia, and Evan. They made my move here effortless. Though we don't live far apart, I don't see them as often as I should, something for which I take most of the blame.

I'm grateful for the students, staff, athletes, and everyone else at Weeping Water. Honestly, when things fell apart like they did at Dorchester, I wasn't sure I could land on my feet like I did. Not only did I, I feel like I'm thriving there. I've been enveloped with open arms in the community and I know that I will continue to grow and succeed in my endeavors there!

I'm grateful to VCNebraska and Maggie, Bryce, and Mader who've brought me into the fold and have helped me grow as a coach. Nothing has challenged me or given me the opportunities to work with incredible athletes like VCN. It's the reason I've gotten to work with the athletes both there and at Dorchester and Weeping Water. I'm so grateful to have been part of the organization for almost eight years now. I've built lasting relationships through the club as well.

Though I'm no longer there, I'm grateful for CornNation.com. If you'd have told me that I'd get to spend five years of my life combining to of my loves, volleyball and writing, and gaining some notoriety for it, I'd have told you that you were nuts. Like with so many ventures, the people were the best. John, Ted, David, Greg, Nate, Brian, and so many others.

I'm grateful for the resources I have. Even in this time that is scary as anything for a lot people, we are fortunate to be able to not only meet our needs, but give to people who are are in a dire situation.

I'm grateful for the experiences I have been able to have, both successes and disappointments/failures. The places I've been, the ways I've traveled, and the people I've met along the way have helped to shape me. I can't wait to share similar experiences with Everett and Vivian.

I'm grateful for a lot of things I said yes to. Top of my mind are the coaching gig at College of St. Mary and RAGBRAI. If I hadn't said yes to either of those, I'd be living a much less colorful and fulfilling life.

I'm grateful for who I've become. I'm far from perfect. I'm working to be a little bit better everyday, but I know I don't always reach that. I will keep trying for myself, my family, my friends, and for people who are far less fortunate than I. If I can share some of my blessings with others who aren't as fortunate than I, then I can feel as though I've made a real difference. Giving away some of my blessings doesn't lessen mine. In fact, it increases them exponentially.

I could spend hours listing blessings and gratitude. It feels sometimes as though this type of post would be better if shorter, because the longer I make it, the more I think of people who I should name. If you are reading this, know that you are one of the people for whom I am truly and deeply grateful, because of you I keep word-vomiting onto this site.

Heartbroken

Let's start here. Most of you who read this know me. Those who don't, let me introduce who I am.

I am the epitome of privilege. I am a white, cis, straight male. I am 6'7", a trait that has its own inherent privilege. I grew up what I will call upper middle class. I cannot for a minute begin to know the struggle of People of Color (POC) in America.

I grew up in a town that had some diversity. There were people of Latinx descent, different Asian descents, but few black families, indigenous, or other POC families. However, I come from a primarily white community in Colorado. I now live in Lincoln, Nebraska.

I've always bristled at the #AllLivesMatter nonsense. Yes, all lives matter. However, until we acknowledge that some lives are not treated equally, the only thing I get from #AllLivesMatter is that your life matters more than others.

Until we can begin to address the systemic inequities that lead to what we're seeing in the United States, #AllLivesMatter is disingenuous. I'm being very kind in saying that.

In fact, the news story that's been front of mind for nearly three months now, but is now being overshadowed by the aftermath of the George Floyd murder in Minneapolis is a good place to start with this conversation. Covid-19 has disproportionately affected communities of color in the United States. Why?

Access to medical care, proximity to one another, lack of health insurance, unequal banking practices, and countless other examples of systemic inequality mean it's harder for POC to fight against virulent pandemics like Covid-19.

In a time when marginalized communities around this country are seeing their friends, family, and neighbors die in numbers far out of balance with their piece of the population, the video of George Floyd's murder surfaces.

This is another one. We've seen Mike Brown, Eric Garner, Breonna Taylor, Botham Jean, Ahmaud Arbery (I'm sorry if I've misspelled any of the names) and countless other black men and women killed in situations and ways that, as a white man, I can't fathom becoming fatal.

No one should die because they go for a jog. No one should die in their own apartment from a home invasion, especially if that invasion is from a police officer.

Please don't come at me with a #NotAll whatever. I know that. No one is, in good faith, arguing that all police officers, or white people, or protesters, or anything are bad. I've seen countless examples of protesters protecting police officers or trying to talk bad actors in their ranks down. I've seen countless examples of members of various police forces laying down arms, taking off tactical gear, and otherwise joining the ranks of the protesters. I absolutely believe that the majority of police officers are on the side of justice.

If I was found with my knee in the neck of a dead man, I'd be in jail. Period. I understand that there are many circumstances wherein a law enforcement officer has to use lethal force to keep people safe. Nothing in the George Floyd case indicates the officer on his neck was protecting the greater public safety. I've seen it was a bad check, I've also seen that it was a counterfeit bill. Neither of those things should be a death sentence.

I've heard Floyd resisted arrest. I haven't watched the longer video because after watching the Ahmaud Arbery video and the initial George Floyd, I've no interest in watching as another black man is murdered extrajudicially. I don't want to watch video of people dying.

Even if he did resist, which I've mostly seen that the longer video doesn't conclusively show, that's still not cause for the officer, whose name I've no interest in repeating, to kneel on his neck at all. That's not, as far as I know, an approved restraint technique. If I'm wrong about that, I'll happily amend this post. Please let me know, friends who are in law enforcement, if I'm mistaken here.

So, this happens on Monday. The officer who killed George Floyd isn't arrested until Friday. The other officers, who are complicit in NOT STOPPING MURDER, should have been arrested as well. It should've happened Tuesday.

So we have protests. And protests that turn violent. I do not condone the looting or any form of violence. One has to acknowledge, however, that there are reports of outside instigators, and that many of those damaging property are not the BLM protesters. I don't know. I just want to make sure I'm as fair as I can be.

Kaepernick peacefully took a knee on the sidelines. That wasn't okay. Celebrities protest at awards shows peacefully. That's not okay.  Peaceful protests that disrupt traffic aren't okay. The message delivered is that peaceful protest is fine, so long as I don't have to know about it. That doesn't seem to make much sense.

I hate seeing cities that I love fall into chaos in the hours after dark. I hate seeing these peaceful protests get a bad name by the actions of a few bad actors (or maybe outside instigators). I hate seeing the actions of a number of police officers give a bad name to the officers and departments around this country who are trying to work in concert with their communities.

There are so many more things that I can do. I know I am not doing everything I can. I'm trying to learn. I'm trying to do better everyday. I want to be a better advocate for marginalized communities.

I realize that even the language I've used here may be biased. It's my own fault. I am sure that I have biases that I don't know about, so haven't been able to work on. I'm trying to do better.

To those hurting; to those who feel like their voices go unheard, their calls unheeded; to people whose daily existence involves constant fear; to anyone who feels hopeless; I want to hear you. I want to help. I am on your side, even if things I do or say don't always say or do the right thing.

I have to end this by acknowledging that in the past I've used slurs, told racist jokes, and exhibited behaviors that are in exact contrast to what I'm putting out there in this post and in how I try to live my life day-to-day. It was wrong then. I don't care if it was a different time or I was young and didn't know. It was wrong and I'm deeply sorry that I did those things, whether it directly hurt someone or not. It isn't right.

I know I still make mistakes every day. If we expect perfection of ourselves, then we're setting ourselves up to fail. I promise to acknowledge and correct mistakes. I apologize to anyone who I may have hurt from being careless or outright hurtful, because I've done both.

If I can't work on me, I can't walk with the people who I want to help lift up. We all have to acknowledge our shortcomings before we can help this country move forward.

More Covid Content

Seeing as the best thing any of us have for content right now is Covid-19, it's tempting to not put anything up in regards to that. However, I think we do all have unique and valuable thoughts, insights, and experiences during this unique and uncharted time in history, so there's some value.

The original intent of this blog when I started it back in 2011, before a LOOOO-OOOONG hiatus, was to update my lire for those back in Colorado who I might not always get a chance to talk to. Now with the explosion of social media, it's hard to keep your day-to-day life out of people's eyes. However, I don't put a lot of my daily stuff up on social media, so let's revert a little to its original intent.

Pat of the Pat and JT Podcast (which you should definitely listen to) called this somewhat of an online diary. I guess that's true, except I'm not locking it and not hiding it. So it's not real secret. However, part of this will also be thoughts and insights. So now that you're prepared, let's go for a ride.

March 4-8 of this year, I was in Colorado snowmobiling. It was really a pretty normal time. The news was starting to tell of cases in both Colorado and Nebraska, there was no way for us know the impact the virus was about to have. In fact, I'll admit I was at best flippant in my response to it, cracking jokes about it with my friends.

We honestly had no idea how virulent it was going to be. We all said, and I believe felt at the time, that it wasn't going to be a big deal. I mean, heck, basically if you were old or sick, problematic. Otherwise, meh.

There'd been some loose discussion at work about preparing for distance learning at school, but there wasn't any particular urgency to it. We were all 95% confident we'd be returning to the building on Monday. We were wrong.

In fact, the weekend of the 13th-15th, we had people over. I bought Corona as a joke. I still wasn't taking this as seriously as I should have been. I'm not sure any of us were. I am not ashamed of my response at the time, but it does seem foolish for sure.

So, from that weekend on, obviously things got shut down. People were encouraged or required to social distance. I didn't get in to get my hair cut in time. Things changed. I won't go in to a long soliloquy about how it's affected my teaching because I think there's been plenty of that.

What has happened? Well, Everett got a playset for the backyard, so when he's home, we have something else we can do with him. He really freakin' loves it. We sold old and bought new patio furniture. Errands have been run, though less often. I've gotten a much better chance to workout than I have in awhile, so I'm definitely taking advantage of that.

Thoughts, feelings, insights? Yeah, I've a few. Let's start with the fact that of COURSE I want everything to reopen yesterday. No sense in being coy about that. However, we can't start doing that before we know we're getting out ahead of this thing, and it doesn't feel like we're getting there yet. I mean, we don't have treatment or a vaccine, so how can we even start to believe we're winning this battle? Sorry Texas Lieutenant Governor Dan Patrick, there aren't more important things than living.

This has been a particularly tough time for me. I'm an extrovert. In fact, I'm probably on the extreme end of extroversion. Not leaving the house to see people and not having people over is very hard. It takes a psychological toll on me. I'll be fine. I'm actually mostly okay, really, but there have been times I've been down. Getting outside in the suddenly spectacular weather has helped. Video calls have helped.

I am also one that hopes that things change when this is all said and done. I would probably be just fine if I never shook another hand again. High fives? Sure. Knuckles? Absolutely. Hugs? Gimme. I do enjoy the significance of shaking hands, but I don't know that I need to do it again.

There isn't a perfect response to this. Different places, states, and countries have had different responses. There are some that have shown to be really good like South Korea. Some have been far from that, like the overall national response here. However, a lot of state leaders are doing things well. I've heard it bemoaned that Governor Ricketts' "Directed Health Measures" aren't a stay-at-home order. However, in some cases they're more restrictive, and they're guided by advice from the Unversity of Nebraska Medical Center, which is one of the best epidemiology hospitals in the country.

I do hope we learn lessons from this, and that those lessons carry through. It's been compared to the Spanish Flu pandemic in 1918, but obviously the lessons learned from that didn't stick. We need to do better.

Enough with the reopen protesters. You know what else is bad for the economy? Lots of people dying. I know this sucks. Keya and I are blessed to still have our income. Everett's daycare is still open because each room is down to fewer than 10 people in it. They've changed their procedures, but for an only child, the socialization is wonderful.

I want to close with something that's a little bit nitpicky, and might be kind of controversial, but I like language, and I LOVE precision in my language. I've seen a lot of people call the front-line health care workers heroes. They aren't. They're heroic as hell, but they aren't heroes. Heroes are expendable. Heroes are people who put their lives on the line. Most doctors and nurses didn't sign up for that, I don't think. They are doing heroic things, but I don't want to call them heroes. I want them all to survive. Thank you for being so heroic.

Thanks for reading. I appreciate each and every one of you. Share if you think it's worthy. Feedback always encouraged.

Tall Tales and (Not So) Short Stories

I honestly don't have any idea how it's taken me this long to post this. You'd think, given that I'm 6'7", I'd have made, ya know, mentioned this before. I might have in passing, but now felt like a good time to talk about the joys of being tall.

The most common thing that happens is that people will approach me in public and say, "You're really tall," as though I don't know that. It's then, inevitably, one of two things, "Do you play basketball?" or, "What are you, about 6'3"?"

For starters, the 6'3" bit is oddly specific and kinda far off. It's also bizarre how often people guess that. I mean, regularly, folks are guessing 4" shorter than I am. I do realize that for a lot of people, it's hard to tell much difference between about 6'3" and 6'7" (and maybe even more), but the fact that it's regularly 6'3" throws me for a loop.

I do understand the basketball thing. I get that given my generation, any tall person who's reasonably athletic would've likely played basketball. I did not play basketball in high school. The last time I played organized, competitive basketball was 8th grade. Usually when I tell people that I didn't play basketball they respond with, "Really?" When I tell them I played volleyball and tennis, they're kinda surprised, but it seems to help them make some sense of me.

Let's talk about some pure joys of being 6'7". Many older door frames are about 6'7". When I have shoes on, that puts me in a precarious situation (and my faux hawk doesn't help). People in the schools where I've worked through the years giggle at how I duck going through doors. I do it subconsciously, but I have smoked my head on some things I shouldn't have... I have a recollection of a black eye and small cut I got on a light fixture years ago.

Y'all ever go to the mall to find pants? Me too. You know what I leave the mall with? Disappointment. It would honestly help if I weighed another 50 pounds or so. "What about big and tall stores?" you say to yourself as you read this. See, that conjunction is AND. I am not AND, I am just tall. There is no big and/or tall store. I have found a few places that carry them online, but that can be a crapshoot. Big shoutout to The Buckle though, as they usually have the right waist-inseam combination for me. And their jeans are SUPER comfortable.

I guess jeans aren't the only problem. It's really hard to find stylish clothes that fit my body well. I'd either have to put on about 30 pounds of muscle, which is not something I'm sure I'm even capable of, or I have to settle with wearing clothes that are just a little on the baggy side. I'd love to have a pair of joggers cause people look really good in them, but not when the cuff either hits halfway down your calf or the crotch halfway down your thighs.

Cars. I heart them. However, the automobiles that we can buy are limited because of that inseam I mentioned before. Oh... and headroom. And that limitation costs us a LOT more money. For example, we bought a Buick Envision in 2017. We love it. Let's be clear. However, what we WANTED was more like the Buick Encore, but when my tall behind gets in that car and puts the seat where I'm even remotely comfortable, ain't no backseat room. Everett would not fit well. The least expensive cars are generally not an option for us.

It's not all bad. My height means I have a certain set of... skills. Ya know, like reaching high things or being SUPER easy to spot in crowds. It's also gotten me out of a couple of sticky situations.

I have a recollection of high school and RJ putting his hand in the middle of my back and pushing me through the sardine-packed halls of Centaurus. It basically worked. Crowds parted. We were never late to class. Having attended events like Great American Beer Fest in Denver, I was almost always the lighthouse for my group. I'd be easy to find.

I've also joked repeatedly at jobs that the only reason I've been hired or retained at a job is my ability to grab things on high shelves without a ladder. There's also basically nothing in my house out of reach. Yes, sometimes I need a step stool or ladder, but it's never big or ungainly. I'm very handy to have around for that reason.

Twice in high school, I didn't get in fights. I'm fairly passive when it comes to confrontation. I try to avoid it if possible. In high school, I had a couple of guys who thought it was funny to be big men by shoving me into various things (lockers, door frames, etc.). In each case, I'd either had a bad day, or just had enough of that dude that day and turned around and returned the favor, in each case asking a simple, "WHAT THE **CK?!" In both cases, neither spoke a word to me again in high school.

Referring back to the privilege entry from... before... I rarely feel unsafe. I acknowledge that my size is intimidating to many and definitely works to my advantage in a lot of cases.

I will say, the most frustrating thing about my height is the attention. I realize it's what I'm known for. However, I implore a couple things.

Number one, being tall is not some prize I've won. I didn't ask for it. Much the same as others with physical abnormalities often didn't ask for it. Please don't point out to tall folk they're tall. WE KNOW! If I looked at an obese person and public and said, "Oh my goodness, you're very fat! You must like cookies." I'd elicit all kinds of negative reactions, and rightly so. We know better than to approach strangers and point out things they have little or no control of.

The other thing that bothers me is when people say they want some of my height. Honestly, most of the time I love being 6'7" (about 200 cm for those who live in countries whose system of measurement makes good sense), but if there was a way to take about an inch above and below each dropping me to about 6'5", that'd still be fine... and make it easier to find pants and cars!

The worst for me, now that I think about it, is when people ask, "Did you get taller since the last time I saw you?" NO! I don't want to get taller.

Some of y'all may well read parts of this and see it as whining or complaining about something that others would love to have. Yeah, it's great much of the time, but there are other frustrations I haven't addressed in here.

I was 6'5" when I graduated high school, 6'6" when I graduated college and was measured about six months ago, I was 6'7 1/2". I was not thrilled and I will stick with 6'7".

The only part of me that stopped growing at reasonable size (Stop!) are my feet. I've been a 13 as long as I can remember, back to about middle school. That part is wonderful. I have fairly small feet for my height (I'm actually about a 12 1/2") which means I can find shoes pretty easily when I need to.

Sorry if this leaves you with a sense of... huh? Like, is that really how he finished this? I get it. This one felt like it needed to be out there, but I did it in two sittings (which actual writers would definitely think is a good idea, right?). I'm also deeply sorry I haven't been near as consistent lately. The ideas hit my while I'm driving, which makes it tough to record the idea. Hopefully this COVID-19 social distancing will make it easier.

Thanks for reading!

The Difficulties of Alliances

I want to tell you that I'm going to post regularly. The fact of the matter is, I can't do that. I can't do that because I want to make sure that what I post has value, to me (let's be honest, a blog is basically a public diary) mostly, but also that it'll be worth your time to read. If I don't feel like my thoughts are collected enough, I won't write one. I will, however, keep sharing links on FB, IG, and Twitter so people can read it if they'd like. I appreciate everyone who takes time to look at these.

The entire idea for this blog comes, basically, from Chick-fil-A. Let's be clear about something, I friggen love their food. I would eat there regularly if I wasn't such a relatively healthy person.

However, due to circumstance and social circles, I have quite a few people who I consider friends in the LGBTQ+ community. So you can see the conflict there. While I don't know that the company's founders have changed their tune on gay rights, they have stopped donating to organizations who openly oppose gay marriage, so that conflict has softened a little bit. On the flip side, as one of my friends pointed out the other day, their sauce packets make a rainbow, so...?

Now I've floated the idea in my head for quite sometime about posting a blog relating to privilege because as a 6'7" fit white male in his 30's, I know it, but I haven't quite yet compiled all my thoughts on the issue. I do not subscribe, however, to the idea that others gaining the same rights and privileges I have in any way lessens my own. That's ludicrous.

So, here's the thing, I fancy myself as an ally. I'm trying, admittedly not as hard as I can, to stand up for marginalized groups. I also think that one of the best things I can do to do right now is raise Everett to do the same, but better than I do. Maybe it's a symptom of the culture, or an effect thereof, not sure how to define the difference, honestly, but I know I mess up doing this constantly.

If I'm truly going to be an ally, I have to admit to past wrongdoings. Chief among those is cracking or laughing at jokes where people of color, LGBTQ+, women, or countless other groups are the punchline. I did it. I'm not proud of it. It was stupid and I'm sorry. I am trying constantly to do better and, even though I know I have setbacks, I am confident I am.

The dilemma that often rises for me (and I'm sure others who fancy themselves allies) is when that desire to help faces off with things that we've long enjoyed, used, or participated in. The Chick-fil-A example is just one. What if a favorite artist or actor gets caught in a controversy? What about when a local business, which may be the only one you can easily get to for some essential, gets nailed for being bigoted? What then?

I haven't stopped eating at Chick-fil-A, so I'm glad they've begun changing, however incrementally. While the opportunity to eat at Jimmy John's doesn't come up all that often, I'm mostly avoiding them because of the founder's obsession with trophy hunting. I prefer Papa Murphy's to Papa John's, but there's a guy who seems to have no interest in redemption.

Above all that, the group that I have the hardest time really being a good ally for is women. The reason is simple, I have to overcome a certain level of systemic... training?

See, so many things that were considered chivalrous really are kinda demeaning. It's not that we shouldn't do things for women, it's that it shouldn't necessarily be limited to women...I think. Again, this is where I don't really know. As mentioned in a previous blog, I do consider myself to be a feminist, but I'm not always sure how to do that well. It upsets me when what I think would be a good-intentioned gesture by myself or someone else, gets reprimanded as misogynistic.

Realistically, I suppose that the answer has more to do with dialogue than anything. We all likely need to be more open-minded to people's intentions and reactions. I should know that. Perhaps the most valuable thing taught in communication courses is that the message is never really up to the sender, but rather the receiver. While I would never intentionally demean a woman's intelligence, ability, or worth, I'm sure I do it unintentionally.

Yes, the idea of open-minded dialogue is a microcosm of something that has to happen in the world as a whole. I am absolutely guilty of closing my mind off when people start talking about certain topics or topics from certain perspectives. I am working on that because I believe it's not enough to talk the talk, I need to walk the walk.

As always, I appreciate you reading this. I have to share an anecdote I thought was really funny that relates to this. Back in early fall, one of my fourth graders told me I throw like a girl. I, of course, knew he was kidding, but I asked, "Why would you think that's an insult?" He wasn't sure what to say, but I didn't expect him to say, "Because I assumed your gender?" WHAT?! I really wasn't sure what to say so when I finished laughing I told him I'd let him tell the softball players and volleyball players that he thought throwing like a girl was an insult. He didn't like that idea.

The Blessing of Volleyball

Whoa. It's been much longer than I thought it would have been since I last posted. I'm sorry my loyal (heh) followers. From the minute I wrote that last one, I knew I wanted to write something talking about the blessings I've received in my life.

Some of you know how hard that last one was for me to write. Why? Well, I generally don't want to burden others with my problems. They feel so insignificant compared to what others face. However, since so many on the internet display the good, I wanted to add the bad and be honest.

I've lived an incredibly charmed life. I know this. I try desperately to look at my life and my experiences through as objective of a lens as I can. We all know that's not terribly reliable, but I do try to look at my life somewhat objectively.

I'm also very hard on myself as many of you know. It's not worth spending a lot of time on, but nevertheless, looking at myself objectively isn't that easy.

So, another part of the reason that I've been SUPER delayed in writing this is because of volleyball season. High school season is absolutely nuts and constant. I love it, but it's a very busy time of year, and when home, I wanted to spend time with Keya and Everett.

My intent was to write an entry about the blessings in my life. The words to talk about the array of blessings in my life didn't quite come to me. I don't know why. Probably because as much as I hate burdening people with my problems, I'm also not crazy about talking about this type of... bragging? I don't really like it.

However, as I've been racking my brain to try and think about what the hell to write here, I kept coming back to the thread that runs throughout all of the things that are great in my life is one thing....

Volleyball.

See, I've mentioned this before. As I look at the best things in my life, I can almost always trace them back to volleyball, though sometimes it's at best tenuous.

I discovered volleyball as a competitive men's sport in fall of 1996, when I was supposed to be watching a debate meet at Boulder High School. I couldn't find any of the rooms where debate was happening, but I stumbled backwards into a boy's volleyball match. I was hooked.

Thanks to boy's volleyball, I got to compete twice in the state tournament, and coach in it once. Those are experiences I hope to help my high school teams have soon.

I got to meet some of my closest friends through volleyball, both coaching and playing. I'm so grateful for the friends I've made through volleyball.

As I sit now, here in Lincoln, Nebraska, I think about the more fundamental things that I owe to volleyball.

In 2011, volleyball brought me from Colorado to Nebraska. That first summer living here in Nebraska took me to UNK for volleyball camps for the third straight summer. That's where I met Markeya. Now, this post is too short for me to talk about that at length, especially our courtship, but that's a huge gift I owe to volleyball.

Obviously, Everett is yet another blessing I owe to volleyball since he is a result of this relationship. Again, I cannot, in the space I expect to use here, talk appropriately about the blessing that he is.

Volleyball brought me the club coaching job I love so much. Spending time in the gym with so many people who are so committed to and passionate about the sport I love so much is rejuvenating and exciting.

Volleyball brought me a couple of wonderful teaching jobs. I had six full years at Dorchester that, until the very end, were fantastic. After that went south, I found Weeping Water, which is a wonderful place that I never would've imagined I'd end up. We're in the very beginning of this adventure, so I can't speak much to it, but I'm thrilled to be part of the Weeping Water team.

I could go, point-by-point, through quite a few more blessings that I've had thanks to volleyball. I thought it'd make more sense to focus on the big ones. If you'd have told 16-year-old Ty that volleyball would become one of the biggest driving forces in my life, I'd have told you that you were crazy, but here we are and (almost) 39-year-old Ty can't count all the ways he's blessed, but he can count one thing to which he owes many of those ways.

Volleyball.

It's kinda weird, but it's really awesome.

Worst Summer Ever

I'm sorry it's taken so long to get to this post. Frankly, I've been working to find something to post about for awhile. I wanted to post about change, but I couldn't quite pull together a post. Maybe it's coming. However, this one's come to the fore lately.

I don't know that I've put all of this in the same place aside from my head. In fact, it's hard to type. It's hard to put down because I'm the kind of person who rarely puts his personal stuff out there. That's got a lot to do with the fact that I've never felt like my problems warranted others' time.

So moving on to heart of this. For the rest of this entry, understand that "summer" basically means spring and summer.

The Worst Summer Ever (yes, it warrants capitalization) started on the 7th of April when my dad called me while we were in Toronto to tell me that my uncle had completed suicide. As with anyone when they find out that this kind of a thing has happened, there were a series of emotions, none of them positive. While grief was the primary, there were so many others that I was unaccustomed to.

While the way that we came into is awful, the fact that we are now the caretakers of Noble's car, one of the MR2 Spyders from the movie 2 Fast 2 Furious. It's currently in the process of some serious bodywork due to the fact that movie studios should not build cars. It has its own Instagram, @mr2_fast_lnk.

We were in Toronto when we got the news about my uncle. We got back from Canada on the following Wednesday. That Friday I was told that I would no longer be the volleyball coach at Dorchester. I've already dealt with that one, so I'll leave it alone here, see previous posts for that information, but there were more developments there later in the summer.

I found a job in Weeping Water as, wait for it, head volleyball coach and fourth grade teacher. It meant our planned move was to a different place than we'd originally intended, but we found a house we loved and went under contract on May 20. We knew it when we bought it, but it's now August 30 and we still haven't moved. We knew it from the time we signed the contract, but it feels like FOREVER now. I took my parents to see the house when they were in town. I just wanted to stay. I can't wait.

Before finding that house, we learned that Blue Blood was closing. I found out because Keya saw a post from one of the local news stations on Twitter. We were investors. That was frustrating. There were a multitude of reasons that it went down the way it did, but it was a total surprise. Again, there's more going on there, but I won't, and kinda can't, go in to it here.

Shortly after that, I had to head to Naples, Florida to pick up the MR2. That trip was fine except for traffic in Atlanta that made what should've been a 12-ish hour drive from Cape Coral, Florida to Nashville, Tennessee more like 14 hours.

I don't remember where this fell, but I know it was before we put our house on the market because we were told that having Thunder in the house was probably not going to be conducive to selling. We couldn't find anyone who'd take him temporarily, and his quality of life had definitely fallen since Everett came along, so we made the decision to surrender him to the humane society. He's got a lot of life left and we wanted him to feel as loved as he had been before we started watching TV exclusively in the basement. The task fell to me while Keya was at work and Everett was at daycare. Even now I can feel that same catch in my throat thinking about it. I'm glad it was me, but the fact that it had to happen at all was terrible. We love that bunny, and we're just glad he's living a great life someplace else. I definitely felt like a failure as a pet owner.

One of the things we worried the most about what Everett's reaction. He was the only human in the house that Thunder regularly tolerated. If he'd have gotten upset it might've broken all three of us. However, while there seemed to be a recognition that something was different, it didn't really faze him.

We finally put our house on the market in late June and had a buyer in early July. The buyer agreed to close after we were scheduled to close on our house, which was wonderful. However, from there our buyer's been a huge pain. It's a long story, but when the inspection came back, which was pretty good, the buyer wanted EVERYTHING fixed, including things that don't need attention anywhere near immediately. On top of that, it wasn't good enough that I made some repairs. The buyer wanted a contractor to do all of that work, including caulking that was bid at $750 for a door, a window, and the garage doors. Just around the edge. 100 linear feet of caulk. We did not pay that much. It got to the point where the buyer's agent said that the offer would be pulled if we didn't give in. We didn't. The offer didn't get pulled. The buyer's agent also said to our agent at one point, "I don't know what kind of clients you have, but..." Like, what the hell lady? Your client is buying our house. I'm sorry we want to save money in this process.

The last Tuesday-Wednesday-Thursday of July is coaches' clinic in Nebraska. I love going because I get to hear from high-level coaches and get my head wrapped around the new high school season. A lot of people asked my why I was wearing different colors and I told them. I make no secret that I felt like the reasons given to me as to why I was no longer the Dorchester volleyball coach were not true. Well, even though I had put it to bed and moved on, it came back. I talked to a buddy of mine at coaches' clinic about the Dorchester situation. By now I'd heard from a couple of coaches who'd seen Dorchester at summer camps and thought the didn't look near as good as they had the year before. I believe the exact words I used were, "Sounds like they're down this year. Their two best players are gone, one to Waverly and the other to Crete." In the interest of total honesty, I probably should've chose my words better and said two best hitters, but I didn't. I did however say that, as I had many times that day, I was rooting for Dorchester in every match but one, since Weeping Water plays Dorchester in early September. Well, that friend I was talking to had his assistant football coach there who is the nephew of one of the teachers at Dorchester. Well, he had left before I said how I'd be rooting for them the rest of the summer. That night, Keay got a Facebook Messenger message from the wife of my former AD whose nephew had been there. She lit into Keya (not me) for my immaturity and how multiple girls had gone to admin saying that if I was the volleyball coach at Dorchester, they wouldn't play. I had asked SPECIFICALLY if there had been a problem with my coaching or my interactions with the athletes. I had poked trying to find out why I was being "dismissed" as the head volleyball coach. Nope, it was commitment (again, see previous posts for the more on that). This certainly didn't seem like that was the case. In addition, before Keya was done reading the message, she'd been blocked. Let's say we were frustrated. This was after the first day of the coaches' clinic. I was sure I'd see my former co-worker the next day, the AD and husband of the texter, so I sent him a text saying I was sorry, I'd chosen my words poorly and I'd never say a negative thing about my former players, something else that was said in the now-infamous text. I also said I understood if he didn't want to talk to me. I didn't even get a reply. To be clear, I did not then and still do not harbor a grudge against Dorchester. However, it felt in my last couple years like I wasn't really welcome there any longer. I'm still not sure why, but I'm disappointed. I know I was never perfect, but I thought I did the best I could to help the kids I was working with succeed and still haven't heard anything to the contrary.

Oof. That last bit was long. I'm sorry about that. I was trying to keep this paragraphed by event. I swear to all that's holy I really don't have any particular bitterness or grudge toward Dorchester. I got a lot from that town. I'm grateful for what I learned and how I could grow there.

My family has been spectacular through this entire summer. Keya and Everett have been my consistent positive. I'm unbelievably blessed.

I also have to acknowledge that relative to some people's lives, this may rank as a relatively tame summer but for me, emotionally, it sucked. Like I've said, there are other parts of these things that I can't or won't post on here.

I am an incredibly blessed man. I will never lose sight of that. Once this move is over, I know life will relax a bit. I still enjoy my life and know I've been unbelievably fortunate. I'll be fine. I am fine. I just wanted to share this all with you.

Thanks again for reading. I know this has been kinda heavy lately, but this has what's been on my mind and heart. I got a lot of good to talk about, so I'll get back to that.

I'd love follows on other social platforms. I've never mentioned that here, but my twitter is @coach_ty6, and my instagram (ya know, not our car's) is @coachty6.

Take care!

Self-Actualization? No. Probably More Self-Realization

I'm a day late. I'm sorry. I only have one excuse... I forgot.

See, lately, we've been working on a bunch of grown-up shtuff around this house. The biggest one is buying and selling houses. I mentioned in a previous post what has facilitated this move, but basically we're moving from the southwest side of Lincoln to the east/southeast side. We also are (finally) working on will and end-of-life stuff. Once you have a kid, that gets real.

So, nevertheless, I'm a day late from where I want to be. I thought about waiting another week, but the subject matter for this week's blog has been bouncing around in my head for awhile. This is also one of the least formed ideas I've ever had before starting. There've been a ton of ideas that have floated around for this, so it's kind of setting out on the journey and see where it goes. Join me.

We're talking about self-realization, really. I'm sure that people come to their great, grand realizations about themselves much younger than 38. Or maybe they don't. I don't know. I haven't had in-depth conversations with many people about that.

I'm an extrovert. Most of you won't be surprised to find that out. I thrive and feel renewed spending time with people. Keya even knows that I'm kind of extreme to that end. I rarely miss an opportunity to spend time with family or friends, either at home or out. I'll do about anything.

When I lived in Colorado, the group of friends that we built up, the "Pint Night" crew if you will, would often make plans starting about 2 on a Saturday afternoon and a dozen of us would be at someone's house by 8 that evening, usually playing video games and drinking adult beverages, just having a great time. It was great for my extroversion.

Being an extrovert, however, does not mean that I don't love time alone. I do. It's just not recharging the way it is for me to be out with friends. When it comes to my family of origin, Dad and I are both very much extroverted where Jay and Mom are much more introverts. I know that's hard to believe, but when you see my mom and brother's studios, you'd understand.

Huh. Verb agreement is problematic in this piece. Honestly, don't care. Moving on.

Okay, so I've always known I'm an extrovert, but it was in the last couple of years before Everett came along that I realized how extreme it is. I would have company over every night. I like being the host. I'm fortunate to have a wife who feels the same. It also helps that we were the first of our closest friends to have kids and are willing to host... after Everett's asleep.

Okay, so anyway, I could probably mention the catalyst for this train of thought and thus this particular blog post. My 20th high school reunion was a couple weeks ago. The best part, far and away, was catching up with Kelsey and Todd, who I don't see as much as I'd like, and Alex and Angela. I could write a whole post on my friendship with Alex. I am so blessed to have been part of their wedding.

However, I found myself bouncing around like a damn hummingbird all night. While I did feel a little guilty leaving Keya while I flitted off to go talk to people who I, literally, might only see at the reunions. It was ridiculous, I'll admit, but I had a great time.

Why was this the catalyst for the blog? Well, I've often said I wasn't cool or popular in high school. I still stand by that I wasn't cool. I never have been. I never plan to be. I remember a conversation with another Todd in his kitchen where I told the story of when I thought I was cool, but the story ends with me crying. That's all of the story I remember. I don't know what I did that made me feel cool....

Anyway, I have to stop saying I wasn't popular. I know this sounds like a humble brag, I don't mean for it to be, I don't, but it definitely was something of an aha moment. Why have I never thought of myself as popular? Well, simply because pop culture tells us that cool and popular go hand-in-hand. I wasn't the stereotypical popular kid because I wasn't up-to-date on fashion and I was terrible at making the right joke or saying the right thing at the right time. However, in a class of 400 or so people, I made nice with about everybody. I was picked on by a couple kids, but I also avoided those who made my life painful.

So, from that point, a lot of my self-esteem has been based around having a LOT of friends. I've always felt like they were good friends. Yes, there are ancillary people who I hang with when I hang with friends (or see at Spikes at this point), but I feel like I do a better than okay job of having a fairly large circle of good friends. I don't buy the idea that by the time you're 40 you have, like, three friends. Of course, with the parents I grew up with, that was not the role modeling I saw.

The hardest realization in my life, which is not that recent, is that sometimes I'm a terrible friend. I won't go real deep, but two of my closest friends, Dave Harbaugh (DAVID DAY HARBAUGH THE EYE VEE!) and Alana (Gay) Gowin have been on the receiving end of my terrible friendship. Fortunately, they're also possibly the two most gracious people I know and I'm doing better about being a friend, even if it's from another time zone. I hope they both read this so that I can say I'm truly sorry for the times I took you for granted. Yes, I realize how impersonal this might be, but I'm also terrible with having real, meaningful conversations.

Finally (YAY!), this was brought up by this picture:

When I was little, I was a crier. Man was I a crier. The last time I remember crying as a kid was in sixth grade. It was because I thought I lost my lunch box. It had gotten knocked around the corner, not stolen/lost. I don't remember my friends shaming me for that, but I decided I shouldn't cry. Boys don't. Sadly, that mindset has held to this day. I still don't cry in front of people, even my wife.

I want to be better about this with my son. I want him to know that it's okay to cry. Sometimes we have to. I'm trying hard to be better about that.

Thanks for sticking this one out with me. I realize this was maybe even more stream-of-consciousness than usual. I appreciate those of you who are reading.

Take care.

Who do you think you are?

So, this post was inspired by church over the weekend. You can skip the next two paragraphs cause I promise this will go someplace political. Oops. Okay. Yeap. See many of you later. It's been real. Sunday's scripture was Galatians 3:26-28. It says:

• In Christ, you are all children of God through faith, for all of you who are baptized in Christ have clothed yourself with Christ. There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ.

Okay, bear with me. We go to a fairly liberal church. While it wasn't our pastor who preached this week, but a gal who did a great job who is going through seminary, a point she brought up is that is text likely predates Paul's letter to the church at Galatia. It's essentially saying that in choosing to worship Christ, we are all equals.

However, the sermon started simply with the pastor asking each of us to close our eyes and think about how we identify ourselves. What words do we use? I came up with tall, skinny, athletic, husband, father.

As the sermon went on, I realized three things I didn't think of: straight, white, male. This, my friends, is where this becomes a privilege conversation, and an unintentionally themed Pride Month post.

Why didn't I think of any of those three things? Well, because those are the privilege trifecta. Never have I had to worry that my race, gender, or orientation would have a detrimental impact on my station in life. I'm going to work backwards here.

Being male means that historically, my gender has had the "power" as it were. Now, I hope I've never been one to abuse this power, but I know I've been a damn moron at times in my life, so I apologize for my actions, not if people were hurt by them, but rather I apologize for actions that I took that offended people. I should've been better.

This particular categorization shows up in athletics. Picture this: high school basketball game, your kid's team is down. They can play with this team, but they've had a bit of a run in the last, say, five minutes, and the other team clearly has the upper hand. Coach calls timeout. When the players get to the sideline, the coach lays out what's happening technically, then says, "And most importantly, smile! Look like you're having fun out there."

Now, did that coach say that to a team of male or female basketball players. You having a hard time picturing a bunch of sweaty dudes being told to "smile" in the heat of battle? Yeah, me too. In fact, I'm guessing a lot of you would probably have words with the coach after the game if he'd said that to your son's team.

However, we'll yell that from the sidelines of a girls' sporting event. We might even expect the coach to say that. Why? Well, smiling does two things. 1) It helps instill confidence and overall positive feelings and 2) Makes a person more attractive (except for me in pictures, but that's a whole other post...). We don't say that to male athletes. I don't say that to female athletes. I tell the girls to get in there, shoulders back, chin up, and believe they can outplay their opponent.

In my chosen career, the payscales are probably more balanced than most, although I can't say that with certainty and I won't research it THANK YOU VERY MUCH! And while studies are all over the map on the gender pay gap, the reality is that it does exist, and it's something that needs to be fixed.

Next up: White. I'm white. You know why I never think of myself that way? Because white Europeans founded this country and ever since that day, many have decided that we're superior to other skin colors because...? Actually, I don't know. I don't know how you can look at any other person of any other skin color and decide that the thing, the thing that makes you better than them is the color of your flesh that you've worked SO HARD to achieve. Wait. No, actually, you haven't. To quote Lady Gaga, "You were born this way." (I love that song)

History books used in American schools have a very western-centric bias. Seems like people like Copernicus really helped push science forward. Except that was the 16th century. You know what we needed to even start to figure that out? Algebra which was invented in the 9th century by Muhammad ibn Musa al-Khwarizmi in what is now Baghdad. Irrigation, a staple of western, especially American, agriculture, was first used by the Egyptians around 3100 BCE. Did western cultures invent and discover a lot of cool stuff? Yes! What is disproportionate to other parts of the world? NO!

Finally, straight. I am straight. I was terrible to some of the kids in my high school who were either brave enough to be out, or dealing with the pain of staying in the closet at a time when acceptance of LGBTQ+ was not near what it is now, which is terrible. I realize those people may not read this, but I'm deeply sorry for the actions that I took that caused pain. There is no excuse.

One of the refrains you here frequently during Pride Month is, "Why isn't there a straight pride month?" The answer to that, I think, is pretty simple. That's dumb. Being straight has been not only societally acceptable, but even expected, for nearly all of human history. We all know how recent steps toward equality for members of the LGBTQ+ community have been. The first steps. There are many more needed.

Why isn't there straight pride? Because we don't need to walk around declaring who we are. We haven't had to fight to have our love legally recognized and all the benefits that come along with that. While I don't, for a minute, think being LGBTQ+ is a choice, I frankly don't understand what difference it makes. Love as thou wilt. And don't come at me with the bathroom debate. That entire discussion is based on falsehood.

My takeaway from the pastor's sermon on Sunday was that the idea of equality, true equality, dates back to pre-biblical times. It also drives home the idea that Christianity is a faith based on love and loving equally. I've never been perfect, I never will be, but I'm trying to be better everyday. Church just got me thinking the other day.

Brutally Honest and Honestly Brutal

Alright y'all. You might remember my "The Audacity of Honesty" post from a couple of months back. Some might've noticed it has gone missing. I did that of my own volition. Both my administrators at my former school (which I will not name here, but y'all know) were getting a lot of people asking about it. They both also said I hadn't done anything wrong, but I didn't want to be one more thing on their plate, so I removed it.

This may be part one of a two-part post. We'll all find out at the end of this. It might just be a really long post. Either way, this post is going to catch you, my wonderful readers, up on the last month of my life, with parts about my family as well. It's been about as tough a two months as I've ever faced.

I also want to add that I'm glad it mostly happened to me, and that my wife and family could just be there when I needed them. That's been an unexpected blessing.

Okay, so back to square one. While we were in Toronto (jump back one post to see the adventures, as mundane as they might be, of traveling with a toddler who was a rockstar), I got the call that my uncle had completed suicide. Not a call you ever want to get. Obviously it rocked my, and our, whole world. He'd fought depression for years, but had insisted he'd never carry it to this point. I'd tried, unsuccessfully, a few times over the last couple of years to talk to him, but had always left a voicemail and never heard back. I felt terrible that I'd not tried harder to get ahold of him, but depression's a beast that doesn't afford logic.

Needless to say, that's been unbelievably difficult to deal with. My mom and aunt, Uncle Noble's sisters, have been handling everything with his estate and have been incredible. I know they've barely let us see how much they've gone through, but I'm so grateful for what they've done while going through what I can only imagine is just about hell. I pray daily for their strength in all situations I face.

Here we'll rehash my "Audacity of Honesty" post. As I mentioned, I was looking to find a new teaching gig. I wanted to be closer to my wife and son. I know it's beyond trite to say, "Having a kid changes your everything," but it does. That hour each day I spend in the car is an hour I don't get with my family. I felt the best move was to be honest with both my superintendent and principal. Now, my principal was one of my references, so he obviously knew. I felt, professionally, that I should let me super know as well.

Just before we left for Toronto, it was abundantly clear (oh hindsight...!) that Dorchester was my place to be. I'd thrown quite a few applications out there, and had only one 15-minute phone interview. I'd told both my administrators, and I'm confident this is a direct quote, "You're getting what you wanted, I'm staying! I'm ready to get after it. Fate's telling me I'll be here and I'm re-committed!"

Heh. HA! The... irony?... is really kind of hilarious now. When we got back from Toronto, I reserved my team a spot at the Colorado Buffs team camp. The next day, a Friday, I learned that the new Kindergarten teacher would be the assistant volleyball coach (I typed my initially but changed THAT!). When I approached the superintendent about it, he confirmed that (I saw it on Facebook) and said we needed to meet about it at 3:30. I had NO INKLING about what was coming.

Now, the next part of this can kind of sound like a bitter man, something that was pointed out by the community to administration when I published the original honesty post. I see how people would draw that conclusion. I do. In fact, I'd likely think the same thing. However, I'm going to say that I'm not bitter. I'm not. I don't have time for grudges and bitterness as a general rule. Also, that's something that has a detrimental effect on my mental health. I'm painfully optimistic most of the time. That's a choice.

When school got out that day, I walked do to my super's office like nothing was wrong. I strolled in expecting to lay out the next few years of the volleyball program. He said they'd decided to go a different direction with the volleyball program. I wasn't committed enough to the town (and maybe the school, I don't remember. I just remember thinking that telling me I wasn't committed to the town was ridiculous), as was evidenced by my job search.

First, WHAT?! I mean, he was right, I wasn't committed to the town. That school had kids whose address was in many different towns, and many not from a town at all. I was committed to the kids and everyone in that school. THAT was important to me.

Secondly, what about my teaching job? That's my livelihood and I was panicking about that. No, he said, teaching was safe. The principal was in charge of teacher's jobs, and every eval and walkthrough I'd ever had was positive.

I should add, this decision was made solely by the superintendent. The Activities Director, Principal, and School Board had no role in the decision. While the AD and Principal had been asked for some feedback, the decision was made without them, ultimately.

Did this have something to do with my coaching? The way I interacted with the athletes? I mean, I love coaching, I love volleyball, I want to make sure I wasn't doing something very wrong that no one had bothered to tell me about. Nope, he said, nothing to do with any of that. Just my commitment.

I was livid. I went to the weight room and probably lifted heavier than ever. It didn't make sense. I had no reason to disbelieve him, but it didn't feel right. Nevertheless, it appeared that I'd be working there for quite awhile longer, though in a slightly reduced capacity, so I had to find a way to get over it. It also felt like there was a bit of a "pushing me out" vibe, something reinforced by a couple conversations I had, via text, with other staffers over the subsequent weekend.

Well, back at school on Monday, it seemed like everything was fine. I settled and and thought, okay, this might suck, but started to look on the bright side: More time in the summer, more time in the fall. This can't be all bad.

Then I found out who they'd hired to replace me. As I understand it (and I'm not going to go back and clear up anything I might misunderstand), the new Kindergarten teacher, who is from town in Central Nebraska and is 22, will the be acting head coach, but her title will be assistant. No way to know about her commitment to the "town". The other assistant has a daughter who PLAYS VOLLEYBALL FOR THE RIVAL HIGH SCHOOL! That throws up a big commitment red flag for me, too. Finally, the woman with the title of head coach has a son who runs cross-country at another high school, so she'll almost definitely miss multiple events during the season. Again... I had proven my commitment for six years. Admittedly, the woman hired as the head coach is a graduate of the high school, but I know as a parent, I'D want to go to my kids' stuff.

So anyway, other little things happened that made it abundantly clear, to me at least, that it was time to seek opportunities elsewhere again. I cast a slightly wider net this time (and we again changed what we were looking for in a new home. Our agent, Melanie, was SOO patient with us!) and found a job quickly. The school where I'll be teaching fourth grade and coaching in the fall is a school that PLAYS AGAINST THE SCHOOL I JUST LEFT in our second competition of the year. The team I coached had won the match the last five years. I expect that to change this year.

So now, I've had to change jobs, I didn't mean to slip that bit about house-hunting in there without preface, but it's in there now, so I let's talk about that. We started looking back in the fall, but we'd spend time and find some okay stuff, but then (usually) I would pump the brakes a bit. Let's wait until this thing (whatever that may be) happens.

Well, on the first day that we scheduled multiple showings, we found the house right off the bat. First one we walked into. It's gorgeous. It's on the east side of Lincoln (making my drive from there to work about the same as it's been the last six years; much shorter than it will be from where we live now). It had only been on the market about four days, so we put in an offer, and they countered with a number that we could live with. They actually gave us a better deal because we signed the contract in May, but aren't closing until September.

At this point, a good part of my days have been spent cleaning, straightening, and packing. That leads to the hardest thing I've probably ever had to do. When Keya and I got married, we both wanted a pet, but a dog was out of the question based on schedules, and I'm not really a cat person, so we settled on a rabbit. He was a ten pound Rex named Thunder. Well, like mentioned earlier, when you have kids, your priorities change.

Thunder had not gotten NEARLY the attention in the last year and a half that he had before Everett. No one's fault, just life. He's neutered, so he probably has at least five years of good life left. On top of that, the giant bunny pen in the living room would NOT help sell the house. We made the incredibly difficult decision to surrender him to the humane society here in Lincoln. Y'all, seriously the hardest thing I've ever made the choice to do. We are both soothed by the fact that we know it was the right move for Thunder.

The overarching theme in this is change. Change can be brutal. I feel like some of these changes are forced on us, but overall, I know it will be good. It will SUCK to move out of this neighborhood, we've got neighbors that we just love and we know we'll see less of them.

There has been some good, though. We inherited my uncle's 2000 Toyota MR2 Spyder. Yes, it's a cool car, but it's made cooler by the fact that it was IN 2 FAST 2 FURIOUS! In the scene in the movie where all the cars are leaving the warehouse to confuse the police. It's not in perfect shape right now, as you can see, but I've done a fair bit of work to get it more up to speed, and the body and paint will be in the process the end of June. More pics later.

The picture that you see was taken in my uncle's driveway in Naples, Florida. That car needed to get back to Lincoln. I had three options: Drive down with my truck and trailer (changes there, too) and load it up, fly down and drive it back, or have it shipped. Well, shipping was going to be $1200, so that was out. Financially it didn't make sense to drive a truck and trailer down to load the car up and then drive back getting awful gas mileage over the course of 3200+ miles. We had credit card points. I flew and then drove.

Now, that car DOES NOT HAVE CRUISE CONTROL. So I drove, in two days, from Cape Coral, Florida, where I got to spend some wonderful time with Brian, Heather, and Ryelynn Huffman. God I miss those guys, back to Lincoln. Y'all, there's a muscle on the front of your shin. The best way to work it is driving 26 hours in two days without cruise.

Traffic in Atlanta is the worst. Cape Coral to Nashville should take 12 hours. It took me better than 14. Twenty miles SOUTH of Atlanta, before you're really in the metro, there was a lane of I-75 northbound closed. I think it was closed for about five miles. In that five miles, there were three accidents. At 2:30 in the afternoon, traffic in the Atlanta area added an hour to my trip. 

This car also meant that we had five vehicles. Our garage only has room for four. We traded in the pickup, which we loved, and the hybrid, which we REALLY loved, for a Nissan Armada. So far, we RE-HEALLY love that. 

I wanted to end this on a positive. Yes, the end is here. No, I didn't include everything that's made these last couple months brutal for me. It hasn't changed my outlook. I'm still obnoxiously upbeat, but that's due to a fantastic family, and spectacular friends who've taken time out to make sure I'm okay. I'm letting myself be the recipient of love and concern, something I rarely do. 

I just wanted to let you all in on this. I'd say that this is the reason that I've been more infrequent lately, but that's not the case. I plan to get back to this more regularly and am trying to figure out how to put some podcasting into my future. I'll focus on this first, though.

Thanks, as always, for reading.

Ty, Toddler, Toronto, Travel

Oof. I didn't mean to take this long. Frankly, a lot has happened. In short, when I last posted, I was teaching at Dorchester, though no longer coaching, we were looking at places out west of Lincoln a little bit, and life was... settling in.

Now, I'll be teaching 4th grade at Weeping Water Public Schools next year, and coaching volleyball. We are, tonight, working on putting together an offer for a house on the east side of Lincoln. Life's changing. I've another honesty post in my head, but I'm not there yet.

Anyway, awhile back, I mentioned that I wanted to talk about our adventures with traveling with Everett. At the time of the travel, Everett was 16 months old. We decided, possibly erroneously, to take him on his first flight. Out of the country. Yeah. He'll now think that flying always involves customs.

A little bit about Everett. He's really the chillest baby I've ever been around. I know every parent thinks their kid is the best, so hopefully by acknowledging that you'll take this with the grain of salt with which it can be (should be?) taken, but even daycare talks about how chill he is.

Nevertheless, we've probably all got a horror story from a kid on a flight. I am so hyper-aware of how others perceive me that I don't want to be the parent of that kid.

Add to that the fact that Everett was coming off an ear infection. Let's do the math. Pressure changes are already a pain for kids. Add in the possibility of still-infected ears... I was nervous.

We flew from Omaha. We scheduled it in such a way that we hoped he'd nap for the better part of at least one of the flights, either Omaha to Chicago, or Chicago to Toronto.

He was awake the entire flight from Omaha to Chicago. It was actually wonderful because a couple of people in the row ahead of us got moved up, so Everett and I jumped up there for part of the flight. It allowed me to get this picture, which is one of my all-time favorite pictures of him.

I put him in the seat next to me and strapped him in. He loved it. Quick pause. Yes, he's absolutely adorable. He takes after his mother. ANYWAY, he loved the first flight. He didn't fall asleep until we were on the ground in Chicago. Thankfully, O'Hare can be a long damn taxi. It was, so he got a decent nap.

He loved the airport in Chicago. He loved the people and spent a good part of the time just staring out the window at the airplanes (taking after his dad!). He made friends, and ate, and just generally did great. He really was a rockstar.

The flight to Toronto was completely full. He had to sit on our laps. He rocked it again. This time, he fell asleep on final approach into the airport, slept through taxi (Pearson Airport in Toronto is huge, too) and even through Keya trying to track down his car seat (which was at baggage claim, something we'd been told wouldn't happen). All told, he got a good nap.

Our stay in Toronto was our stay in Toronto. It was great. Everett did awesome in his temporary home. His naps ended up slightly limiting what we could do, but Toronto. was. awesome! I mean, seriously, go visit Toronto. Scared to travel internationally? Go visit Toronto. The people were awesome. The city was clean. We never felt unsafe.

We visited the CN Tower. Everett loved it. We saw the aquarium. Everett explored a playground for the first time. He rocked the time in Toronto. 

The trip back could've been eventful. April 10, 2019 was a bomb cyclone redux in Denver, the city we were scheduled to fly through on the way back to Omaha. Someday, I'll commit a blog to singing the praises of United Airlines for the overall way they handled our situation. Yes. United did a phenomenal job. I already reached out to UAL to let them know. Folks, if a business goes above and beyond, PLEASE tell them. When I was a retail manager, it was so uncommon when people told me about my staff going above and beyond, but when it did, it made everyone's day.

So anyway, after we did some finagling, we were on a flight that left Toronto at 2:20 in the afternoon. This is better than two hours after Everett normally takes his nap. We discovered that when he doesn't get his nap on time, he gets straight manic. And I don't use that phrase lightly. I really mean he's out of control happy.

There was a man working on his laptop. He was incredibly gracious with our son from time-to-time sprinting up to him and then screaming in joy! Over and over. I'm sure when our flight's gate was changed, he breathed a sigh of relief.

Everett's other jam while we were at the first gate was sprinting away from us and then running through the wheelchairs that were stored nearby.

After the gate change, Everett's favorite game was to screech and run away about 10 feet then turn around and screech again. He wasn't obnoxious. He didn't really disrupt anyone, but we couldn't get him to settle down. Needless to say, we were TERRIFIED he wouldn't sleep.

The flight from Toronto to Omaha (yes, it was direct. more on that later) is just a little over two hours. Everett slept for about an hour and a half of it. We landed about four Omaha time.

Some of y'all are waiting for the other shoe to drop. We were, too. It never did. I get being frustrated, pissed even, that it never happened. We were, for obvious reasons, thrilled. 

I don't know if I've said this before, but I've been incredibly blessed in this life. Our son is an example of how kids get younger siblings. He will, at some point, no we're not pregnant right meow, have a sibling. 

He'd always traveled beautifully when driving places. We never imagined that he'd travel so well by air. Sorry if you're disappointed that it wasn't the greatest stressor in our lives this year. I'm sure there are a lot people who can identify, though. Sorry, too, if I'm not the type of husband or dad who falsely commiserates. I'm not going to pretend that my life is tough. I love my wife, my son, and my life. 

Maybe, just maybe, my next post will be more controversial. Maybe I'll get folk riled up. Maybe not. I don't have a theme for this blog.

Soon, you'll learn more about how to Ty One On.

Be well.

April 20, 1999

I saw on Instagram today someone commenting to the effect of "Have fun with all the posts of your friend smoking weed today!" It was clearly from someone who doesn't smoke weed. That's fine. And I get that, ESPECIALLY with today falling on a Saturday, it will likely be a well-celebrated "holiday." Cool. You do you. 4/20 has never been about that for me, and my senior year of high school changed this date forever.

I am from Lafayette, Colorado and a proud graduate of Centaurus High School. I am the class of 1999. Lafayette is north of Denver in Boulder County. Columbine High School is south of Denver.

Now please, I cannot and will not compare my experience on that day to those who were at Columbine. According to Google Maps, it's a nearly 40 mile drive from Columbine to Centaurus. For many, Columbine is a foot-note in history. For those of us who were in high school in the Denver area that day, it's a memory seared into our brains.

The Columbine attacks are more vivid in my memory of the 9/11 attacks. I suspect there are a lot of reasons for that.

I remember when I first heard what was happening. I was in my car. Centaurus was an open campus, which meant when kids didn't have class, we could leave. It was a Tuesday. I had classes first, second, third, fifth, and seventh periods. At some point during the day, likely during sixth period which was my girlfriend's lunch period, I left the school. The radio station we usually listened to was carrying live news coverage.

We were horrified. This was not the first school shooting in the country, but it was close to home and it was the biggest to that point. Some of us knew kids there. I'm fairly confident I didn't go to seventh period. I was glued to the radio in my car, or in my friends' cars.

We left school that day thinking that though a horrible event had happened, no one had been killed, but that was because at that point, the first responders hadn't gotten in to the school, so despite the fact that the kids who'd gotten out were reporting bodies, the news was running with the official story from the responders, which was responsible.

My closest friend on this earth, who really is my brother, but not blood, was at the doctor's office that day. The initial reports he saw said "CHS" without giving the name of the school. For the briefest moments, he thought his school had been attacked.

You might know this, but high school kids are notoriously selfish and narcissistic. For many of us, that was the first day we really felt deep empathy. Yes, we'd all had the capacity for sympathy and of course had given that to friends who'd broken up, lost pets, or lost loved ones. We weren't heartless. However, this really felt like this could've been us. We ached for those kids who went through this. Our pain, obviously, wasn't even close to theirs, but we grieved alongside them.

That day marked a turning point. Safety at school wasn't a given any longer. We'd always done fire and tornado drills. Now, as an educator, I regularly talk my students through drills that are related to Columbine and other similar attacks, of which we've seen too many. The reality is that as a teacher, I have to assure my kids that I will do everything in my power to keep them safe, even if that means sacrificing myself (Though I do joke with them that I will stand at the door to my classroom with a chair drawn back like a baseball bat. It always relaxes them as we talk about heavy things.).

I'm a liberal. I'll admit that. I don't think I've anything to apologize for in saying that. However, I don't think either side of the gun debate that erupts every time (again, far too many times) this kind of thing happens has it right. Or even really close.

More guns is definitely not the answer. We really should put the idea of arming teachers to bed. I know there are a few who would be fine with having them. Every teacher I know is responsible and would use it only when absolutely necessary. However, having that in the classroom isn't safe.

I'm not going to advocate for removing guns entirely. I know it'll get interpreted as such anyway. The reality is that the conversation NEEDS to involve tighter regulations on guns and destigmatizing mental illness so those who need help feel comfortable reaching out whenever necessary (no one would ever tell someone with a compound fracture to just shove the bone back in their skin and get over it).

The mental health aspect of this epidemic was brought into stark relieve this week with an 18-year-old woman flying from the Miami area to Denver who was "infatuated" with Columbine. Every district in the Denver-area, and many beyond, were closed out of fear for the lives of students and staff. She was, sadly, found after completing suicide. I cannot imagine the terror and difficulty faced by staff, students, and families in Denver over those 48 or so hours.

April 20, 1999 is a day that will haunt me forever. So many people talk about where they were when they heard and watched coverage of September 11, 2001, or Kennedy's assassination, or Pearl Harbor. The names of those 13 lives stolen that day key a visceral reaction in me and I think back to sitting with my friends in the library at Centaurus, making ribbons out of navy and silver ribbon as our way of standing with the Rebels of Columbine. I remember so many things that day.

I will never forget 4/20/99. I ache for those lost, and I ache each time something like this happens again. I wish we'd learned and applied all those lessons that day, but we didn't. I pray it never happens again, but prepare myself to pray, again, for those killed in acts like this that are carried out in places of worship, businesses, movie theaters, and other gathering places across the country I love.

I want us to do better.