The Streets of Heaven

Yesterday was undoubtedly a tough day for all of us to get through. Text messages and calls to make sure family and friends were safe. The emotions welling up for those murdered and injured. Anger at the injustice of it all.

We live in a society of volunteers who readily accept that they will be in harm's way. I am proud to say my two brothers-in-law have served in the military. I have friends who serve as police, firefighters, emergency medical personnel. Yesterday, we saw those in uniform running toward the blasts. We also saw race volunteers joining them. Tearing down barriers. Helping those injured. 

Standing in harm's way.

I am struck by the enormity of their heroism and bravery in the face of such tragedy and terrorism. I hope that we, as a society, can stand with the same bravery in the face of all the adversity we handle on a daily basis. Terrorism. Gun violence. The list goes on and on.

And finally, as I watched a raw video of those who ran to help, I am reminded of this scene from a favorite show:

Godspeed to those we lost yesterday.

.....

It's hard to suggest an aside to this. But as I was looking for the clip above, I found the following clip. Certainly a line stolen from the speaker to be used in a script. And this speaker was talking about another topic which has always been close to my heart as well.

Anniversary

Most of the time, I hope Anthony is off riding endless singletrack. Or taking another wonderful picture. Or still sponsored by a bike company AND a beer company.

All of the time, I miss him.

Class Act

I've been going to Avalanche games for years now. About 10 years ago, our friend moved her seats from the lower bowl up to the club level. Our server, Paul, soon became a friend and we look forward to seeing him just as much as we do seeing the game. 

Paul's late wife, a Denver City Councilwoman passed away a year ago yesterday. Paul came over to the seats and sat and talked with me for quite some time before the game got underway. I think yesterday was a tough day for him but it felt good to sit with an old friend and chat. He is planning a bicycling holiday this summer, taking a train west and then riding north along the Pacific coast before cutting back toward home and Colorado.

Paul is unlike most other servers. He is outgoing, loves life, extremely personable and always quick with a smile. He runs tabs for all his customers rather than taking a credit card at the start of the game. He'd rather treat us all like respectable adults rather than being suspicious of everyone.

Last night, a random patron just to the right of us walked out on the tab. When Paul came to settle up with our row, he found the guy was missing. As we settled our tab, one of my friends looked at me and asked if it would be appropriate for us to cover the walkouts tab. I told him to ask Paul and my friend proceeded to cover the drinks for the walkout.

My friend had no idea of the significance of last night to Paul. The anniversary. The grief. Or the fact that my friend made a tough day much brighter.

I want to grow up to be like him.

In memoriam of Michael James Lachat

It's been a rough start of the year. Last night, after finishing up an ECHL game, we got news that one of our good friends lost his brother.

Rocket, our hearts go out to you. I am going to borrow your words as they are far superior to anything I may say.

He was born May 15th 1957 at 3:50pm. The doctors told our Mom & Dad he would not survive & they had an emergency Baptism for him on May 17th. In my Mother's distraught state she told the nurse the wrong name -- He was suppose to be James Michael & he was officially Michael James. He survived 6 months & then the doctors told my folks he wouldn't function well, if at all after age 16. Well as always he thumbed his nose at that prediction & 4 mos shy of his 55th birthday at around 11:30am on Jan 28th, God invited Michael James Lachat to heaven for a family get together with our Mom & Pop, aunts & uncles, grandma & nana, grandfathers & great grandmother. I will miss him everyday but know they're all having the time of their lives breaking bread. I love you Mike.

You are a wonderful man, Joe.

In memoriam of Earl Baldwin

I began receiving several emails from my brother Nick yesterday, by way of my mother.

They wanted that one of my best friend's grandfather had passed away. The more I read about him in the articles from the Bangor Daily News, the more I wished I had met him long ago. 

It's belated but thank you for your wonderful grandson, for the stories I have yet to hear about you and for your service, both public and during World War II.

Godspeed, Mr. Baldwin.

XKCD

from here: http://xkcd.com/931/

Connections

Business and pleasure.

Coworkers and friends.

Life.

It all becomes intertwined. The line of business associate and friend gets blurred over time. People I talk to on the phone are not strangers or disembodied voices, we talk bikes, we share stories about our families and we discuss life in general.

These connections, no matter how tenuous, become so important and so routine. On Tuesdays, I call Bob every morning. I generally expect to see Fred a couple times a week in our front office.

There are two stories today...

...

My morning to call to my best shop in New Hampshire and possibly our best shop on the east coast resulted in me listening to a broadcast message about a family emergency. When I got through to the owner, I found out he had lost his brother.

I was at a loss for words. So I tried to get him to talk about his brother, what he did, where he grew up. Simple math puts his brother in his mid-40's. The death was unexpected. But we shared a few chuckles and did our best to forget about work for those few moments.

My heart is with you, my friend. And I reflect a bit on the fact that as I continue to grow older, it will ultimately be my friends and family I will have to say goodbye to.

"Don't stop this train..."

...

I was reminded that there was a brief moment in time when I thought about joining the military. I had just read this article about the son of the buyer at our best US dealer. His father did not sleep for days after reading the story.

As graduation from college grew close, I didn't know what I was going to do with my life and I was looking for career opportunities. I was interested in EMT and Paramedic fields but was worried they would get boring over time. As I continued to look for potential jobs, I considered the military and found a group in the Air Force whose motto was, "That others may live." That drew me in and as I began to see the training they went through, I thought if there was one part of the military branch I could go into, that would be it.

Seems like a long time ago....

In Memoriam of Carla Madison

We meet friends in the most random of places, don't we?

We have known Paul for years, he has worked at the Pepsi Center for as long as I have been attending hockey games. Through the seasons, we developed a friendship that meant we first looked for Paul when we arrived at games, rather than looking at the team. We always enjoyed catching up, sharing stories and learning a little more about each other every game. When I found out he would take month long bicycle tours, I offered him a deal on gear from Pearl Izumi.

A few years ago, Paul's wife Carla began to campaign for a position on the city council. Paul acted as her campaign manager and showed me the flyers he was putting together for her. And that's when I learned Carla was a hot air balloonist, had fought forest fires in Yellowstone and Colorado, and was a physical therapist. And she was voted into the city council and was running unopposed this year for her first re-election bid. What a wonderful woman.

I regret now not having had the opportunity to have met Carla. She fought valiantly against her cancer for quite some time. And never once did Paul ever seem down or upset, he just seemed to take it all in stride. She was still serving on the council, he just kept on plugging away.

Upon their return from Europe, they ran into this. And last night I heard the news that Carla had passed away.

Paul, you were blessed to have shared so much of your life with Carla. And we are grateful that she let you out of the house to come see us at the hockey games. Our thoughts are with you now in your time of mourning and in your celebration of Carla's life.

Carla, I'm sorry we didn't meet. I heard so many wonderful stories.

Godspeed.

Sobering Moments

Life has its sobering moments. I was having what I thought was an awful day, I was spiraling, I was trying to keep my spirits up and failing and then I received an email from a friend. After a long battle with cancer, my friend just found out that his wife's liver is failing her. Suddenly, the little things I was struggling with became so meaningless.

They have just recently returned from a cruise in the Mediterranean where they visited Venice and got to experience Carnival. I spent time shirking work and paging through their photos online.

And so I sit here thinking of the two of them, the time he is taking to spend with her and I try to hope for the best outcome.

My thoughts and love are with them right now, I just wish there was more I could do.

In Memoriam of Talisker

I write today with a heavy heart. I wanted to write yesterday but could not find the words. I received a message from one of my best friends that their boy Talisker had passed on.

Talisker was a Greater Swiss Mountain Dog...all 140 pounds of him. And loud and proud.

There is something special about our first dog. They are, for some of us, our training wheels; a test to see if we are ready for the greatest responsibility...bringing children into our world. They also teach the ultimate lesson for our children, a lesson of death.

Talisker was their first. He was wonderful, he was loud and he was family. Hope and I even looked after him when he was just a young pup. He played and romped with Gibson after he finished letting Gibs know who ruled the house.

His registered AKC name was Rock the Casbah. Every time I hear that Clash song, I have always thought of Talisker. The last time I heard the song was my most recent trip to Rapid City while I was sitting in the ref room for a Rush game. For that brief moment, I was thinking of Talisker.

Here's to you T, we all love you, we all already miss you. Make sure you let everyone know who is in charge of the wonderful puppy play land you now reside in.

Isaac and Ishmael

I sat and watched one of my favorite episodes of West Wing this evening: "Two Cathedrals." That is the conclusion of the second season and closes out with one of my favorite Dire Straits songs, "Brothers in Arms." It never fails to bring tears.

I went to pop in the first disc of season 3 and was solemnly reminded that the premier of the third season was delayed. I had forgotten that "Isaac and Ishmael" even existed. An ode to tolerance, racial, religious and otherwise; a request for support for those who responded in our time of need. And it had come at a time when it was desperately needed, airing on October 3, 2001.

This is an episode that should be played in every classroom across America. It should be rerun on TV to serve as a reminder. It should be used to educate. It should be used to stimulate conversations and encourage thoughts.

Let us never forget. Let us learn. Let us teach.

A long way from our friend

There are times when a voice over the phone line does not comfort well enough. The promise of a hug does not carry with it the consolation of the actual. And the thought that you would drop anything to be with your friend in a time of need, while it works perfectly in theory, is not easily accomplished.

All I can do is say that we love you dearly. We miss you. And we wish we were right there to help in whatever way help is needed.

In Memory of Peter

There are never words for times such as these. Peter has been with Molly for as long as I have known her, her stalwart companion. Molly lost her friend yesterday and we share the loss with her.

For S and J

There are some days when I must seek solace in words from the past.

Yesterday, I found out my friends lost their unborn child to suffocation by the umbilical cord. I cannot begin to express the grief I felt when I read their message and today still struggle to find a way to come to terms with such tragic news.

As a parent, we must bear the burden of fears for the children we bring to this world. We must also bear the burden for the hopes and dreams our children bring to light. And in the end, we must find a way to come to terms with the concerns that are saddled on our shoulders when we make the choice to become Moms and Dads.

Yesterday, I searched for the right words for a card for S, J and Mali. Yesterday, I turned to the words of a friend who has passed but still reaches out to offer guidance, comfort and wisdom. Yesterday, I shed a tear for loved ones lost.


"Here it is starting to be spring a little, green shoots are coming up in the lawn, struggling up through their dead ancestors. This could be taken as a metaphor, we too should struggle up through the death of the previous year, but we should not leave it entirely behind. To leave it behind would be a disservice to them and us. They need for us to preserve the memories, and we need, desperately need, the things that those memories give us.

Sadness, Joy, Hope, Contemplation.

Life is not a Garden of Eden, life is kind of like the desert, there are many things that hurt, bite and sting. (In that story, you wonder how it would have ended if he had told them not to eat the snake) But one has to find beauty in all of them. I'm sure this sounds hackneyed, but it applies.

When are we going to the desert?"

-Anthony Sloan Feb 19, 1997

In Memory of Brendan Burke

Tragedy comes, as always, as a surprise. Whenever someone's children predecease their parents, it creates the sense that something is completely askew in our world. It is out of the natural order, it is a fear that finds root in a parent's stomach, it is a reminder to hold dear every moment we have in this plane of existence.

Brendan was not unlike any other 21 year old. He was a senior at University of Miami in Ohio. He was involved not only in the culture at the school but he was also a student manager for the NCAA Div. 1 hockey team. Brendan was also the son of Brian Burke, the GM for the Toronto Maple Leafs and also the US Olympic hockey team.

But these are not the reason Brendan was on my radar. As tragic as his death is, I know him for his bravery.

In November, he announced to the world that he was gay. The amount of support that was generated within the hockey community on all levels was outstanding. Brendan had quit hockey in high school because he was uncomfortable in a homophobic locker room. But while at University of Miami, he found a home. Not only within the community of the school, but in the welcoming arms of the hockey team there. His coming out was supported not only by his family but by the Div. 1 team he helped manage.

As proud as I was for being selected to work a big game last Saturday night, I wish I could have attended the Av's game. They held a moment of silence for Brendan prior to the game and I would have been honored to have had a chance to stand and take part.

Brendan will be remembered for his courage. He started down a path that I am sure many more will follow. Hopefully, sometime in the near future, other players like Brendan will be remembered not for their sexual preference but for the save they just made, the goal they just scored or the penalty they just helped kill off.

Brendan's legacy will live on. His name, his coming out and, unfortunately, his death have inspired conversations with some of my friends in the hockey world. All good conversations, all in support of Brendan at all levels and all admiring his bravery.

Godspeed Brendan Burke. Godspeed.

Ted Kennedy

Go in peace.

We thank you for your service, your tireless dedication to your state and your nation and for all your family has given for us.

You will be missed, revered and remembered.

Pax Vobiscum

Death

It seems to wait for us all, doesn't it? Yet, most of us go about our lives with nary a thought to the magnitude of what it means. Sure, we set up accounts for our loved ones, we make plans for the inevitable and we sometimes are forced to think about the enormity of it all. But for only fleeting moments. We return to our daily lives and forget about those concerns.

We have to. If we spent every day waiting for impending doom, we'd not accomplish a thing. Work would be ignored. Chores would go about the wayside. Our family life would be in shambles. Clearly, this is the human way to live a life.

Every now and then, I visit Anthony's Facebook page. I look at a face both familiar and unfamiliar. It's hard to believe that he has somehow left us, it seems as if it were only yesterday that we shared a laugh or engaged in some sort of mischief. It still brings tears to my eyes when I have to remember that there is no tomorrow to visit with him. Only yesterdays.

But that brings about other concerns, largely for my family.

Who would be there for Emi should something happen. Or for Hope? I have certain expectations about where they would go should the worst happen. Yet, at the same time, it is utterly inconceivable. Utterly.

Such are ramblings on a Monday night. A full work day, very little time with my girls and two hockey games later, I'm left to my own devices in my living room, surrounded by an explosion of Emi's toys, camping gear and our clothing. Such things happen when you spend your weekends playing and shirking the duty of chores. And late night memories of a friend now gone.

I miss you, Anthony Sloan. It's been too long since we last chatted.

"O Death
O Death
Won't you spare me over 'til another year"
-Ralph Stanley

A song, a voice and a chuckle

The healing process continues as the days pass by. Things cotinue their inevitable roll forward as each day progresses.

On Friday last week, we gathered in Evergreen to celebrate Anthony's life. I had a collection of his bikes on my roof as I drove up and I heard them singing to me. The sunroof was open and their were whistles and hums coming from various bikes as I cruised up the hill. For a moment, it felt like my friend was there to reassure me that all was ok.

Today, I took what remained of Anthony's shirts to Goodwill. As I handed the collection to the employee, I heard Anthony chuckle and ask if I "was taking him out with the trash." Just a moment of his wry humor but it was enough to elicit a smile on my behalf. He would want nothing more than to give of himself during these final moments. While it was difficult to say goodbye to his familiar things, it felt good knowing they were going to help others.

Just as Anthony would....

Godspeed Anthony Sloan

There are far too many stories to tell about this incredible human being. Anthony Sloan's incredible wanderlust, joie de vivre, quest for epic rides, ability to take the perfect shot through the camera lens and the ability to touch the hearts of every one he came in contact with will be missed. Anthony was truly the man who, whilst he wandered, was never at all lost.

Anthony's photos and journals touched the hearts of many whom had never met him. Many friends and family members of mine had followed his travels from afar and were awestruck with his passion, the spell of beauty he could cast and his whole hearted love for all around him.

Anthony was both the subject of many a prank and also assisted as the merry prankster as well. When we were building his Road Project many years ago, we took several photos of his bike coming together as he appreciated the art of assembly and welding. One set of pictures showed up with his new frame having wooden twigs for seatstays instead of the alloy we traditionally use. He was also an accomplice of mine in a prank I pulled on wife during her pregnancy. Hope and I had been discussing a new car and while she was off in Maine visiting family, I took several pictures of myself and of Gibson riding in Anthony's Miata. Hope was convinced her bungling husband had gone and made a huge mistake and Anthony helped me perpetuate that myth (well, part myth) by agreeing to let me take the little car to the airport to pick her up. I finally had to fess up before her return as I feared she may stay in Maine for the rest of her pregnancy and have a little Maine baby instead of a Colorado native.

Anthony's sense of humor brought him to XKCD and I was lucky that he shared the comic strip with me.

Anthony was lucky enough to have a job that helped preserve his wandering spirit. His demo schedule allowed him to range throughout the western half of the US. His photos from the road of the vistas, of the rides and of Grendel allowed us to participate in his travels even if only from the front of computer screen here in Colorado. His "A Picture a Day, 2008" was an exercise in photojournalism that inspired me to visit his site every morning during 2008 hoping for a new picture. And when he fell behind in posting photos, he would get a daily call from me prodding for new photos until his site was updated.

Anthony and I often enjoyed a breakfast burrito from the Bonfire trailer in Golden, though not often enough. We would frequently exchange phone calls or text messages to see who was going to pick up our morning meal though, with few exceptions, invariably it would be Anthony who was running early and had the time to swing by the little yellow trailer.

And that's the thing. Anthony was always on time, he had never missed an appointment and he maintained a meticulous schedule. Thursday was the first time I had ever known him to be late for a demo or for anything at all. It was so unlike him that all of us here in the office feared that he had gone off on a morning ride, hurt himself and was slowly working his way out of the wilderness.

My adopted older brother, my mentor and one of my closest friends is full-blooded Sioux and very spiritual. Butch gave me these words of comfort: There is a reason I was the one chosen to find Anthony on Thursday. That reason may not reveal itself immediately, it may take some time. I am allowed to get angry, to be upset with this decision but I will ultimately be shown why it was me.

I went down to Anthony's house in Golden to check and see if he was around. The demo rig and trailer were parked on his street and I could hear Grendel inside. Anthony never went anywhere without Grendel and I was surprised that the dog would be home by himself. I called Anthony's roommate, followed his directions to the spare key and stepped inside. The following space of time felt like an eternity but every step in my memory is vivid and calm.

The most important thing is that Anthony had friends with him from there on out. Dave, his roommate arrived, Joe was there and Hoog and Chris showed up too. In the end, we may have been there more for support of each other but I think Anthony would have been comforted knowing that it was his friends and not strangers that were there looking after him in those final moments.

Despite my beliefs, I took comfort in knowing Anthony was off riding endless single track somewhere. And to Butch's words as I reflect on everything over the past few days, I may have started down the path to understanding. My mother's reaction to Butch's comments was that I would find the right words to say to his family during their time of grief. And that has always been my struggle. I have never addressed or dealt with death well. As friends have passed away, I have often written letters to their family which were never sent. I never felt that my words were right.

But after the most difficult conversation I have ever had, a call to Anthony's mother to share in her grief, I have realized that it isn't the words that matter. It is simply the presence of being there.

To my friend's whose letters were never sent, I apologize for not being there for you and I want you to know that despite my lack of words or my presence, I WAS mourning from a distance. I simply lacked the fortitude to make my presence known.

To Anthony's family, I am still unsure as to why I was chosen but I promise to learn from this. I'm here to share in your grief and here to help in any way that I can. And you need to know that we are not the only ones. Anthony touched the hearts of many and you can see some of the breadth of his influence here, a website where he was a regular poster and visitor.

And, finally, to my dear friend Anthony. When JRR Tolkien wrote "Not all those who wander are lost," he was writing about you.

May you find the perfect single track that ends only where the sun sets. May you find the perfect light for your perfect photos. May you journey to all ends of our planet and this universe. And may you find a pen and a blank sheet of paper to record your travels and share them with us when we join you. Godspeed and Noli Umquam Oblivisci. We all miss you so much.

Sad News

We recently learned that the wife of a friend of ours has discovered that her colon cancer has returned. It is both shocking and sad and while we have been struggling to come to terms with the news, we can't even begin to imagine the turmoil he must be going through.

Our thoughts and our hearts go out to both of them.