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.

Lesson Plan 2 - MLK Jr

Emiko, every year, my mother, your Noni, sat us down on MLK day, made us a cake for MLK's birthday, and we discussed what MLK meant to us.

My mother sent me the following email today.

Tomorrow is the celebration of Martin Luther King's birthday. Remember - ... they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character..."

Have we gotten any closer to this?

mom

I spent some time thinking her question before I responded.

Every day we are taking a step. Sometimes it is in the right direction, some days it isn't. For the most part, we are moving in the right direction.

Unfortunately, racism lives on, not only in our country but also in our world. And it is not only racism but discrimination too. Discrimination based on gender, skin color, income, sexual orientation, religion or political leaning.

I'd like to think that MLK would not want us to look back at him and his accomplishments. The civil rights movement he helped start was never about just him, he was not that selfish. I think he'd rather have us reflect on what WE have done and what WE need to do as individuals to move the civil rights movement forward.

It is a battle that is not yet over. Some day, the color of a person's skin will be irrelevant. Someones sexual orientation will some day have no bearing on their ability to profess their mutual love to the world. The religious right and the liberal left will eventually see that it isn't so much about beliefs as it is individuals core moral values that are shared by both sides.

We can all keep moving forward together under the inspirational memory of what MLK started. This great experiment of a nation we live in will ultimately be a leader in civil rights. We will remember MLK for his vision, his bravery and his guidance. His dream lives on in all of us.

I love you.

Dad

Mountains

I am completely distracted. Thinking about a recent conversation and then my thoughts turned to Anthony for some reason. The conversation was about challenges and Anthony found a way to offer guidance.

As to the conversation of challenges, I have no answers. I can tell you that we were raised never to quit. I know that. It may be from our parents, it may be from our sports, it may be both.

Our parents instilled in us a certain character that said you don't give up on something just because it is hard. And you don't complain, you don't whine.

Sports gave us mountains to climb. Whether we were faced with the actual granite beneath our boots and under our fingertips or with the theoretical mountain of a season in front of us every year, we were trained not to turn back. If the hill got steep, we buckled down, took a breath and kept on climbing. If we fell behind in score, we didn't give up on that game. We would battle through the third period and claw our way back until that final buzzer.

And with all of this in my mind, I've been thinking of Anthony as well. I read today's XKCD.com comic and didn't get it. It's not the first time. Anthony and I used to puzzle over some of his previous drawings and the tenets of the humor or philosophy would often elude us, even after a Google search. And so I looked back at old favorites.

And

And then I turned to Anthony's website. I was looking for some sort of answer, or inspiration, or image. I read a few of his blog postings. And I found this.

The image said it all to me. Anthony walking the line. Visually and realistically, he's going there, he isn't coming here. That's what we all do, isn't it? We should constantly be going. We need to be looking out at the horizon because the moment we turn off the world, we will ultimately turn off our dreams. We can't give up on our dreams, our vision, because they are often comprise our will to live. We have to hang on to those things to truly live and find our rewards.

Ultimately, I turned to Anthony's "image a day" calendar from a few years back. And I picked the January 15th image. Because it was today...albeit two years ago. And I got a chill because Anthony was suddenly speaking to me about last night's conversation.

http://www.anthonysloan.com/2008/Jan15.html

"One picture, three different focus points."

In hockey, there are multiple perspectives. There are two teams, each holding a unique perspective. There is a third team of officials who are required to see everything even though that is impossible. There are fans who watch who interpret every play into a combination of millions of derivatives. And then there is a league who oversees it all and offers a final say when called upon. Or sometimes they don't. Silence is sometimes the best tool...the best approach.

But that is just a game.

In life, there is so much more. The perspectives are multiplied exponentially. The consequences are far greater...it isn't just a game. The outcome? The outcome is life.

Our training as officials is that there is more than one take to every play just as there is more than one story for each day, each hour, each minute of life. We see it through our eyes but we need to remember that there are different focal points. What is important to me may not be important to you. The only way to figure that out is to talk.

But that brings us back to how we were raised. To not complain. We lower our heads and will keep beating at that brick wall until it crumbles. That is what we are supposed to do.

But it isn't.

We need to remember that in life, we need to open up. Sometimes we need to address these challenges with words and not actions. Sometimes both. And sometimes those discussions will take place not between the two that have created the wall but with others who will help us break down that wall.

As I told my friend during our conversation, I don't want my wife to ever feel like she is a single mother. There are two of us raising this wonderful daughter of ours. We both work hard; at our jobs and at home. I am doing my best to make sure she feels supported in all she does so that we can face this veritable mountain of life together. Hand in hand. And together, we are going to win. We'll carry each other, we'll laugh, we'll cry. But in the end, we are going to get there together. We are going...always going.

Conversations like that aren't taken lightly. They aren't a burden but they always make me think. We learn from each other.

You and I, we are going to win too.

Lesson Plan 1 - Experience and Response

Emiko, I had a chat with a friend last night that and I realized after we left the rink that this would have been the perfect closing comment. Too late at night, too late for me to call and give that quote.

"While we can't control all of our experiences, we can control our responses."

I'm not quite sure where the quote comes from but it can be applied to so many aspects of life. Personal, play or work.

I could go into a long soliloquy about where, when and how this is pertinent but I expect you are going to find me and talk to me about how you can apply this in life and how I have over the years. I'll know even more at that time than I do now (and I'll have forgotten plenty in between...that comes with age too).

And this serves as your first installment of my lessons to you. You can take it for whatever it is worth but I hope some day you will get a chance to read these posts and realize that your father really isn't a stodgy and stuffy old man (well, he may be at that point but he wasn't ALWAYS that way).

I love you.

Dad

Gibson is a father too

We (Hope, Emiko, Cheryl, Molly and Gibson) all piled into the family car for a visit up to Stacy's to see Gibson's 4 week old puppies. It was an early start from the house in Golden for us but we were all excited to see Gibson's pups.

When we arrived, Emiko was rapidly surrounded by about five or six adult Berner's. She was shy at first but her excitement at seeing so many "pup pups" rapidly overcame her desire to be held in our arms. She began to run around in Stacy's kitchen, waiting for the dogs to come find her.

From there, we moved out to the porch to see the puppies. Emiko peered over the gating at the little dogs at first. Hope laid out a clean towel in the puppy nursery, sat down on the floor and sat Emi on her lap. When the first puppy came by, Hope gently picked it up and set it Emi's lap.

Emiko first started out by gently patting the puppy's back. And then she leaned over, rested her face against the puppy's back, and cuddled it long enough for several cameras to capture the moment. After that, it became excessively difficult to say no to picking up a new puppy for her to play with.

What a wonderful Saturday morning!

I feel queasy

Oh Emi, your Dad was not squeamish in the past. Is it you who has brought this side out in him?

I'm not sure if it was the lack of food that left me feeling woozy. Or if it was my attempt to clean out Gibson's recently ruptured cyst while also attempting to keep Emi from poking at it in between cotton balls. It does not help that the cyst has gone from oozing blood and pus to me picking out dried pus balls from it.

Or if it was the nastiest poo to date that I had to clean off of Emi moments later.

But I think I threw up in my mouth a little. I had to sit down and catch a breath of fresh air!

My mother and father had an agreement. Dad took care of the blood and guts. Mom handled everything else. I may have to call my father into town....

And.

I think I'm hungry.

Ray Lamontagne - solo at Ellie Caulkins Opera Hall

This post was started 11/18/09...I only came back to it today.

Hope and I just returned from a lovely night out. We planned this moons ago, asked Molly to cover our house, dog (oh yeah, and baby) for the night while we spent the evening out listening to Ray sing. We even managed to acquire a chaperon just in case we got too wild!

Ray manages to get better and better every time we see him. In fact, I would prefer good live recordings of his concerts over his albums and day of the week. And he was so involved with the audience tonight; he brought us into his world.

This on top of the fact that his concerts always bring me back to a time when I was here in our house alone for a few weeks. Listening to his music. Writing a song of my own that would ultimately redefine my life the moment I finished the lyrics. So much of his music inspired my own. And as we drove home tonight, Hope pointed out how his music has been with us in every stage of our relationship here in Colorado. It is very comforting and very emotional all at the same time.

While I was enjoying his music, I also spent time thinking about my blog. Thinking about hockey. Thinking about my closest friends who mean the world to me.

I'm pondering a change in direction with the posts here on 1/2" Hollow. For quite some time, it has simply been a recorder for my random musings. And then it began to record the first steps I took as a father. Now, with Emi walking circles around me, I am contemplating how these random thoughts could become lessons for her, a chance for her to know who her father was before she was born and to see how I morphed into a parent from the guy who was lucky enough to convince her mother to marry him.

I spent time thinking about hockey. The beauty of the game. How it has come to mean so much to me and how I have been lucky enough to be blessed with many opportunities in this game.

My friends. Oh, my friends. Those with us and those who have passed on. Those who make our days so much easier, especially when we do not have family nearby to help out with our daughter. Near and far, I feel like I don't get to see my friends often enough. Other things in life limit my time and my travels. Something needs to be done about that....

Soda

It's officially been a year since I stopped ordering Cokes. In fact, with the exception of a little Moxie here and there, I haven't purchased a soda since 1/3/09. There have been a few sodas purchased for me over the year and I dutifully returned them to the gifters.

Now, did I notice a difference?

No. Not really.

But I feel good. I feel good because I know I can simply walk away from something that, while it tasted so good when it hits your lips, isn't necessary in my diet.

It's the little things....

My lovely and oh-so-generous wife mentioned this to me in passing. I had a slight understanding of the enormity of what she was about to do but...it's these little things the she does in life that go so far for so many other people.

Follow the two links and you will understand.

http://sites.google.com/site/milkforsophia/home

http://sites.google.com/site/milkforsophia/our-progress

I pulled a Dad

Hung out a little late at work on Thursday talking about cars with a Yeti guest. It was a good talk; he and I are pretty much on the same page with what we like. However, he is running an Audi S4 and a Porsche Boxster whilst I run a Volvo XC and a Series Land Rover.

Close, right?

Anywho...a good conversation. And then I climbed into my car and casually drove home without thinking of much else. As I pulled into the garage, I noticed Hope's car was not in her spot and that she wasn't home yet.

And then I realized something else.

I was supposed to pick up Emiko at 5:45 at school. But it was 6:00 and I was at home.

I pulled a Dad.

New wheels

I finally broke down and picked up a new pair of skates. My last pair were blown out after about a season and a half. I was over due.

As I prepped the new skates to get broken in, I looked at the naked white housing that holds the skate blade to the boot. You see, when Anthony passed, I added a black strip of hockey tape that encircled the heel of the housing to my old skates. As a hockey player through and through, it seemed like the right thing to do. The same pieces of black tape encircle the seat tubes of my bikes.

Every time I put my skates on, I pause for a moment and reflect on memories of my friend. I often touch the piece of tape as my homage to my lost friend. And it isn't sad thoughts, it's just a chance to remember.

Remember him.

Remember friendship.

Remember that life goes on.

But with the new skates I began to wonder how long the mourning process really is. Anthony is still in my thoughts. We all miss him and are getting to the point where we can laugh, joke and smile when we conjure up his memory.

Quite simply, I'm not ready to stop mourning. A close, close friend...my spiritual guide...pointed out that mourning has to last for four seasons. Until you make it that year and see the circle of life, see the fact that life goes on, you can't let go of mourning for that spirit. And this makes sense to me. It is more than religion, it is simply a way to keep myself on track over the course of the next year. It keeps my eyes open to birth, growth, decline and death.

Most of all, it let's me miss my friend.

I saw him in Vegas at Interbike. Probably not more than a few minutes after a fleeting thought passed through my head that this was the first trade show he had missed and that I hadn't brought a part of him to Vegas with me.

Instead, one of our partners brought him. There was a video playing at the Fox Suspension booth. As I paused to watch it, I realized it was showing clips from a press camp that Anthony had attended earlier this year. I was seeing shots of a race truck he got to ride in and take pictures of. As soon as the realization passed, I saw a shot with the Yeti demo truck in the background as confirmation. And then, a shot of Anthony setting up a bike.

I sat stunned with my eyes welling up (they well up now as I write this). At the same time, I was so happy to have had a chance to see him again. I'm sure the folks who put together the video have no idea of the significance of those shots.

To me, they were a suitable memorial to our friend.

Late night thoughts....

A close friend and I recently had a conversation that culminated in these final thoughts that are well worth sharing.

When the days of your life are shorter in front of you than they are behind, do you really want to have wasted so much of your time arguing with your wife, spending time away from your children and avoiding those people who mean the most to you?

Shoes - Part Deux

Emi is developing an Imelda Marcos style fetish for shoes. She searches for her shoes as the first thing she wants to put on in the morning. She wears mismatched shoes because she can't decide if one pair is better than the other. The finds socks (ours) that she wants us to pull on over her shoes. And then she stumbles around because the socks catch her feet on the floor.

Last night, she picked up one of my shoes (after we pulled on one of my over sized socks onto her miniature foot) and held her foot in the air until I succumbed and placed my shoe on her foot. She then tried to stand up and walk.

Didn't work.

She then found one of Hope's cycling shoes in the living room. Picked it up and handed it to me. And then sat on the floor with one foot in the air until I put Mom's shoe on her foot.

She still couldn't walk.

Simply put, Emi is so damn cute!

Baby Squirrel

Two nights ago, Emi, Gibson and I headed into the backyard to play. As Emi and I sat on the edge of our concrete patio watching Gibs romp with his ball, I saw him nearly step on a small gray object on the ground under the tree. I pulled him away and saw a baby squirrel on the ground, so young that its eyes were still sealed shut.

Hope came out and we sat there wondering what to do. She commented that she heard a bunch of squirrel noise earlier in the evening but just assumed Gibson was chasing the squirrels again.

We moved Gibson inside, and let him out into the front yard later on to do his business. I did a little research on the computer about baby squirrel care and finally settled on simply warming the baby and waiting for Mama squirrel to come down out of the tree to pick up her lost young one.

We started off with a Nalgene bottle filled with hot water and a few old diapers for the baby to curl up in. I then tracked down our heating pad and ran an extension cord into our back yard. As the baby squirrel warmed, it began to move around and Hope said it cried out a few times. We left it for the evening, wrapped in its swaddling with the heater on medium.

The next morning, its movements had slowed considerably. But we left the heater beneath it and I uncovered it so Mama squirrel would be able to spot her young one from the tree.

As soon as I was home yesterday evening, Emi and I went to check on the baby squirrel and it was gone. My assumption is that Mama came down and picked up her lost youngster. Could a predator have come and taken away the baby squirrel? Sure. But that isn't the happy ending I need to hold in my mind.

Nature can be so seemingly cruel. But the simple reality is that this is life in the wild. We humans aren't really that far removed from it all, though we do try to mitigate the cold and heat with our structures. We try to stave off hunger through industrial agriculture. We slake our thirst with a wide assortment of beverages. But it simply is about life and death. Our human touch on nature.

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