The Doorbell Rings...

The Doorbell doesn't actually ring because the F*$%ing doorbell is broken like everything else in this 100 year old house.

Inside, there is a 3 year old that will go 10 days without taking a crap and a 3 month old that will scream if he goes 3 seconds without being held. And if the 3 month old goes 3 seconds without being held, ironically, he will take a crap.

But still the doorbell rings...but really it doesn't, because it's broke, so instead an old man stands there repetitively pushing the doorbell and we come to the door...as if, it's working. But it's not.

Nothing really is these days. That's a very different story.

I open the door. It must be frightening for the old man.

There is a shrill from the back room. Lucy, our 3 year old has been given the ultimatum, either she uses the bathroom herself or it's the suppository (we call it medicine)...she says she will go herself, but truth be told, it's the suppository...and it's a massive movement. I actually had to lay out a beach towel, not just a towel. And open a 100 year old window. I still love you sweetheart, but it was bad. But I still love you.

It was a "great job" as she says.

Holy $h!t.

But I regress. I answer the door, and I'm stern because anytime I see an old man at my door I assume he's either selling solar leases or windows, or air-conditioning...or all 3. We live on a busy street in an old house with equity, it's common.

He starts, off, "My name is Thomas, I used to live here with my family."

Thomas is about 70 years old, slight of frame, showing the usual dry skin of old age and has that grandfatherly aura about him. He looks at me and says, "I like what you have done with the place. It used to be brown."

I smile, he's not a salesman, he's an old man. Who used to live here. And I've still got plans to get out of the house with the kids. We're all in such a rush these days.

Despite the chaos, I invite him in. I live in So Cal, but I'm still a Virginian at heart.

"Thomas, come on in, you used to live here, let me give you the tour."

This is common when you own an old house in Olde Escondido, keep in mind, on the East Coast old houses are common place. But here they are treated as relics.

Thomas walks into my house and I introduce him to my wife Sara, my daughter Lucy and my son Jack. He stands a minute, taking it all in and smiles. He waves like old men do to little children, trying to capture just a little bit of that youthful energy. It's the wave/cupping action that is somewhat awkward but works for old men. It works for Thomas because Lucy smiles and Jack thinks he's great.

"Thomas, let me show you around, a lot has changed since you lived here 13 years ago."

I show him Lucy's room, our addition, the landscaped backyard, the pavers and the new outdoor living space...tell him about our plans to finish the garage, and finally we arrive outside.

He's smiling the whole time, muttering "I love what you have done with the place."

Finally, in our backyard, my two mutts are jumping all over this gentleman...Charlie and Suerte, both around 6 and 7 years old and both knowing better than to ever jump. But both relishing the opportunity to ravish a stranger. Thomas holds strong, he's smiling, he's a good, strong guy. A man's man.

In the backyard, he points to the barbecue pit. "Did you finally refinish that?"

"No, we let it be, truth be told we are thinking long term about getting rid of it."

"So did we."

Thomas sights the old swing on the 150 year old California Live Oak Tree...

"It's still there."

"Yep, Lucy swings on it everyday....she loves it."

Finally, he lays eyes on the orange tree. There he holds his gaze a moment.

I look at him. He's gone silent. So I break it...

"You know as well as I do Thomas, those are the best oranges in the region, would you like to get a bag?" He turns to me and says, "I thought you would never ask."

"Careful Thomas, I cleaned the yard yesterday, but we have 2 healthy dogs, not telling what landmines are around." As we walk back toward the tree across the lawn.

"I have a poodle, I know how that goes."

We arrive to the back edge of the property at the orange tree. Thomas looks at it with great admiration.

"Mark, you have done a great job on this tree."

"I arranged the irrigation to hit it everyday, but luckily the root system hit a watershed, so we are flush. Year over Year, I have too many oranges to deal with. But Lucy and I make homemade organic orange juice twice a year by hand."

I'm proud of my Orange and Avocado Trees. My only apologies was that because of the drought, the size of the fruit was smaller than usual.

"That's normal Mark, it comes and goes in waves."

"You know, Irene loved this tree. She loved this house."

"It's a special place."

"Irene called it her Pony House. She loved the trees, she loved the oranges, this was her dream house."

"It's a special place."

"I never come to Escondido anymore, ever since Irene got sick. But today, we buried her, and I drove by her old house and I had to come and see who was living in it."

You never know what you have, until it's gone, then all you want, is what you had, back again.

A small tear showed in the corner of Thomas's eye, then he smiled.

I don't know if I passed a test or if he got something off his chest. It was that kind of moment. So I kept silent.

We then talked about the neighbors, the neighborhood, the home, the oranges, we talked about everything.

We walked back to my house and I explained to my wife that Thomas had just lost his wife...he stood there in our living room. There wasn't pain, there wasn't shock, there was just denial, and you can argue that denial is the best place.

But as I stood next to him, holding his little bag of oranges, I felt his pain. I gave him a hug. Here, 20 minutes ago he's a salesman at the door, and 20 minutes later he's getting a hug. That's a good salesman.

I take him out to the front porch and talk about our home, our plans, how we have remodeled and what we plan to do. In that moment he stops me.

Here's a man, before me, very wealthy, very healthy, very Thomas, and I can tell by the look in his eyes that he would give everything he had to switch places with me.  He sees the baby in the arms, the young toddler crying, the mess that is having both kids at home and not being able to clean up fast enough.

He smiles. I can feel what he's thinking.

"I don't take this for granted. I know how lucky I am."

"You are blessed."

"I am, thank you."

He picks up his bag of oranges and heads for the door, turns and says...

"Goodbye Lucy. Goodbye Jack. Goodbye Sara."

He gives the old man cupping wave. The kids smile. And then he leaves.

As he leaves, the mail comes. Mail comes everyday, usually bills or promotions.

Today, there is a letter for Thomas. I run out to his car and give it to him. He says thank you.

"You are blessed."

"Don't forget your Oranges. You know they are the best in Southern California?"

"They are."

"Come back anytime. Grab some oranges."

This actually happened, this isn't one of those made for facebook tearjerkers.

As we go through our days, as hectic as they are. Be present, be aware. Facebook can wait, this post can wait, that text can wait, everything can wait. Thomas, can't wait. The oranges, can't wait, they come twice a year and they are exquisite. Family, can't wait.

It will pass and so will the moment, but the memory will always be there....be a part of the memory.

It broke my heart today to have a 70 year old man in my living room looking at my wife and kids, seeing his own, and wishing he had it again. Not to do over, just to have it again, one more time.

In the end, we are all Thomas. And we are all Irene.

And I'm so grateful my doorbell wasn't working.

Prologue to #19

The Old Man sat quietly at the top of Old Trafford, home of the famed Manchester United soccer team. It was a cold, rainy day, the type that English soccer has become well known for. The Old Man had wrapped himself tightly in a wool blanket as he sat in the corner of the box suite to bear the brunt of the cold. The older you get the colder you get he thought. It had been thirty years since he had donned the red jersey, but he could remember the games, the agony of defeat, and the thrill of victory like it was yesterday. The Champions League Final, winning the FA Cup, winning the Super Cup, as well as the premiership a half dozen times, it all felt like it had just happened. He remembered all the great players he had played with and all the goals he had scored. His assists were streaming through his mind as the first half of the game began. He barely noticed the tap on his shoulder as the security guards instructed him to make his way to the field to have his number retired at halftime. This was a great honor, reserved for the greatest to ever play the game. The once masterful player strode with confidence and humility, making his best effort to conceal the limp that accompanied many great athletes in their latter years, especially on cold and rainy days. The Old Man took the elevator down to the field level. The walls shook with the applause of the fans, the result of an intensely played first half. The Old Man had been a part of many of these matches. The score was 0-0 and the Man U fans were cheering their team on, singing as the halftime whistle blew and the players made their way to the dressing room. As they left the field, Old Trafford rumbled as “Come on You Reds” echoed through her walls. As the last player left the field, the Old Man waited at the end of the tunnel, shouldered with security. Players from both teams ran up the tunnel to their dressing room but, one by one, they slowed to a walk to pay their respects and shake the Old Man’s hand. It was so loud in the tunnel, the Old Man could barely hear himself think, but he was able to read the movement of the lips. “Great to meet you” all the lads were saying as the timid gentleman shook the young players’ hands. “Great half. Best of luck in the second half,” was all the man replied. As he made his way down the tunnel, he saw the great pitch of Old Trafford. It had been years since he’d stepped foot on this grass. The smell of the stadium, the roar of the crowd, the lights, the history, it all came rushing back to him. Now he was outside the tunnel and in plain view of the crowd at the halfway line, and in an instant the crowd hushed. The Old Man walked to the center circle where his storied number nineteen jersey was waiting for him. The stadium remained as silent as a church. It was a quick ceremony. They played some clips of the great goals he had scored, the trophies he had won, and his FIFA World Player of the Year awards, and then the owners of Manchester United raised the famed number nineteen to the top of Old Trafford, never to be worn again by another Manchester United player. The Old Man bowed his head to the fans and quietly made his way off the pitch in the same fashion he had entered it. The ceremony was a summation of his career. He had always entered the pitch humbly, driven the crowd wild with his talents, and then walked off the field, head bowed in honor of his opponents and teammates, never forgetting where he came from. As he left the field at Old Trafford for the last time, he caught a glimpse of a young boy sitting in the third row. He was dirty on the face, wet on the beak from the rain, and pure in the eyes. They locked eyes for a twenty-yard stride, the youth in envy of the Old Man, the Old Man sensing something special in the youth—a hunger, a drive, a desire that evaded most young players and only emerged in dreams. Occasionally, the very special ones tap into that desire and drive and make their dreams a reality. The Old Man understood the look. He smiled as thoughts from his own childhood began to resurface.

Mark Hires A Landscaper

Without too Much Backstory, here are the bullet points. 1. I buy a house in Escondido because I can afford it and it has a big lot for my dogs to run. 2. The property doesn't have irrigation. 3. The dogs tear up the grass and leave no less than the Mojave Desert in their wake. 4. Dirt outside equates to dirt inside, which equates to Sara yelling at me. Everything is my fault afterall. 5. I hire an irrigation expert to install a system. 6. $1800 later we have an irrigation system to water dirt. 7. Simultaneously, Gopher moves in, begins his own aeration process. Sara tells me to kill him. But then changes her mind when she sees him sunbathing outside, not I'm just supposed to trap him and move him to a canyon. I tell her that he will be going to a place with plenty of canyons, he will even likely be wearing a white robe. It's going to be great. 8. Mark Plants Grass Seed. Waters Frequently. 9. Weeds Grow. Lots of them. 8 Trash cans full. 10. Mark Calls landscaper back, tells him he has grass, it's time to cut the grass on a regular schedule. 11. Landscaper laughs. Says he was by my house last week, he saw the weeds. 12. Mark says nothing, holds steadfast that beneath the underbrush there is grass. Landscaper still laughs. 13. Landscaper comes to mow the yard. 14. Landscaper must weed whack the entire yard by hand before getting his mower on it. 15. 2 Hours Later, beneath the underbrush, grass appears. 16. Now the dogs can go in the back in the grass area in the morning, then have to track through some dirt en route to house, leaving mud by the back door. And eventually inside the house. 17. Now Mark realizes that he has to invest in some pavers for the patio area to nix out the dirt confine during the grass growing stage that the dogs tore up. 18. Landscaper tells me the cost is going to be in the 5 digit range. 19. Mark Prays for good tax return. 20. Gopher is in great health and seems to be enjoying his new mangrove. To be continued.

Lucy Mae!!!

For those of you who are still following this blog, let me take this opportunity to remind you to throw out your old yellow pages, and please bring in the new pile...while you are at it, please visit yellowpagesoptout.com. This weird thing happens to you when you have a child. It isn't a crescendo, I didn't cry, I didn't throw up. I simply looked in the back seat and saw another person there and thought, "Well, it's going to be different now." It's not good, it's not bad, it's just different and it's fantastic. I find myself spending hours upon hours of sitting on a blanket playing like a little kid, with a little person. I find myself having this kinesthetic energy with my child that allows me to know when then need something...that is a very scientific way of saying every 5-10 minutes she either needs to poop (gets that from her dad), needs attention (gets that from her dad), or needs to eat (also, gets that from her dad). However, there is this weird space that exists between my wife Sara and I that wasn't there before. I recently quit my job, which was a 6 figure one. We recently bought a house, which is a very old one. That said, the space that exists isn't really space at all, what is left is the fact that the person you fell in love with before the baby is forever and will be forever different. Ironically, I'm in love more now than ever. When I watch my wife with my child and the way she is, it's different. It isn't the 3 jack and coke lustful stare I used to get, it's now the I've got breast milk all over the couch and the baby is about to barf...again, please help look. It's a total trip. I look back on past blog posts and laugh. Too much time, no enough substance. These days, I'm starting my own company, raising my own child, changing diapers at a 30 second per diaper clip (that's clothes off, clean butt, to clothes on) which frames me. A year ago, I used to take the dogs on a walk around Escondido where our little casita is, and people would say "cute dogs." Now I load up the Ergo Baby, cruise the dogs on the same walk, and all of a sudden I hear "SuperDad!" My Mom said something to me the other day. She said "I knew you would step-up!" I stepped back and thought about that statement and thought about my options...where else would I go? Step down? Step Away? No chance. For me, as life presents challenges and opportunities you adapt and either engage or disengage those less than desirable or more desirable opportunities. So basically, I didn't know failing was an option. After my fallout with my own father, one of my measuring sticks was how good of an influence could I be. I left my job (quit), started my own business (smart I hope), doing my passion (sounds good on paper), and hoping (in one hand) that it all works out. I look at it like this. If I decided to leave California and drive to New York in the middle of the night I wouldn't be able to see. But I trust the fact that my headlights will run 200 feet in front of me (inner wisdom). If I drive down the road, my goal is that my headlights will run 200Ft, and then 200Ft. more, and before I know it, the sign for New York will be in front of me. That's my view on parenthood. I don't have all the answers, and once I do, I will be a grandparent. So just get going, trust yourself and your passions as long as they are thought out and there is a plan (roadmap). So I'm getting going, I'm an Academy Soccer Coach for Boys Under 12 and Under 13. I do skills clinics to the general population. I will be doing 2-3 weeklong camps per year and have founded a website called Ratemysoccercoach.com. The website isn't profitable yet, but we (me and strategic partners) have business models that pencil on paper. The point being, 5 years ago my life was in control of me. I was reactive. I couldnt' be happier with my new position in life as a family man and stay at home dad/entrepreneur/youth soccer coach. For the first time in a while, I can see the lines and the patterns, and the idea of stepping down doesn't exist. The idea of stepping up seems small and the normal course of action is to keep rolling. I miss you guys, hope all is well on the homefront. All Good Days, Mark

Getting Hitched

Yep, you read it right, and there is no shotgun involved, this is consentual.

Well, let me digress. A couple of things. I have been on a hiatus. I don't want to call it a quarter life crisis but I'm not sure what else you would call what happened 2 years ago to me. I can remember being in college and uber confident and having this superimposed picture engrained into my mind as to what life and success would feel like at age 28. At 30, and now oh so much more mature (that I even pronounce the word ma-toure)I can't help but laugh at the whirlwind of anxiety and stress I was able to work myself into when said results were not accomplished, or even in the same ball park. It wasn't until I let go, and literally in my mind, I said, I just give in. I had never done it before, there is something un-American about giving up and not fighting, but dude, it felt great. At a certain point, you have to acknowledge that there are some things you can control and some you cannot.

Here is an example of things you can control: the way you eat, how much you work out, when you go to bed, how you treat others, how you treat yourself, how you dress and present yourself, how much you drink, your work ethic, your accountability, and so on. These are conscious decisions that you can make, but the greatest of all of these is attitude, which I am getting toward.

Here is an example of things you cannot control: your family, your friends, your success growth (you can take steps to increase your statistical chances), when you find your partner, if you find a partner, if you dog poops on your roomate's floor, if your dog chooses to eat your roomate's bra and you find out he has a taste for high-end victorias secret lace and you understand where he is coming from, when you get promoted, if you get promoted, and so on down the line.

I'm pretty confident a lot of this misconception in life derives from the fact that our generation fell for the whole line that if you go to college, get in with a company, you will be successful down the line. In the current market, that simply isn't the case, but I understand that my parents were overlooked for many promotions because they didn't have the proper pedigree and that they wanted the best for me, so on and so forth. I get it.

Anyways, I won't forget it, the day it all changed. One day, I was in a coffee shop. Hair down to my shoulders, hot black coffee in front of me (I like it cowboy style if you ever have me over for coffee), and no prospects. Unemployed, no woman, finances sinking-quickly, dog-mexican, truck-pick-up...it literally sounded like a country music song and I just laughed, and was like, I'm trying man, and I'm just not sure where to turn. I was tired of fighting and dating and bouncing sales jobs, it was slippery for sure.

The one thing I had going for me was soccer. I was coaching two soccer teams at the time and this kept my sanity. Once again, soccer to keep me out of trouble. One day, 2 years ago, after a game a parent comes up to me and says they have someone for me to meet. I thought, no thanks, I'm not doing the blind date thing...but she persisted, and told me about a Southern girl who had lived here in SD for 4 years, and just kept going. I thought to myself, ok, what is the worst that could happen. Well, I took her to a concert one Saturday Night to see The Hold Steady, easily the biggest drinking band in America. She put back 3 jack n' cokes and I stayed sober because I was driving and making a first impression. Well, that was 2 years ago and we haven't really left each others side since. Sometimes when you let go, you are really just opening up and making room for something great and unexpected that you cannot control. And sometimes you are just quitting and being lazy, but that is also ok because if it didn't hold your interest then its best to not waste time.

So that's what has been up. Since then I have found a great job in renewable energy and life keeps ticking upwards. As we get older and wiser, we tend to try to surround ourselves with positive people who make life easier and really add value. The world is full of people who want to suck time and life from you, but occasionally you cross path with that person you connect with and its important to hold onto those people. Not that you do not care about the rest, but there are a certain number of extraordinary experiences that can happen in your life, and if you surround yourself with people you connect with, once again you are increasing your probability. If you need an example, when I was single, I would always hit the town with another single guy or gal (wingman) approach, less threatening, shows you have friends, common interest, increased probability.

Everytime I run into people they ask me what is up, where is my blog? It's almost like society feels you have died if you are not on facebook. What happened to Johnson, I never see him on facebook anymore...must have been the polio he caught playing farmville, that sucks. Well, that wasn't the case, I just needed some space, a little breathing room, and frankly unplugging feels good and I really recommend it. But here is what I am offering, I am switching gears on the blog a little bit because I feel I have something to add to the human race besides solar panels and soccer, so when you read a blog, and you think of someone who might like it, go ahead and forward it over to them. If social media has taught us anything is that we are all so interconnected that what is happening with one of us can really help out another, like minds, and so on.

I have a number of great stories and helpful tid bits of information that I am looking forward to sharing. Please follow the blog and if you happen to see an ad that sounds interesting, I invite you to take a look.