A Dozen Roses and a Broke Down Truck

On my way to the movies yesterday afternoon, I happened upon a thirty-something year old man carrying a huge bouquet of assorted roses.  Normal, if we were in the city.  Not so normal since we were on country road outside of Columbus.  

I was headed north, and there he was, headed south at a brisk pace.  Sweating profusely and carrying only the flowers.  He held them up against his chest, as if to protect them from the wind of the passing cars.  He looked determined, to say the least.  

After an initial chuckle, I thought--seriously, where is this guy coming from?  The closest place to purchase flowers was perhaps a mile up the road at a supermarket.  And, in the other direction, there was nothing around for miles.  Hmm.  

I crested a small hill and saw a black pick-up pulled off to the side of the road.  There was no flat tire, no accident damage, no sticker indicating the truck had been inspected by the police or highway patrol.  Nope, the truck belonged to the flower man--it just had to.  My guess?  He ran out of gas and ditched the truck to get the flowers where they needed to be.  Which meant carrying a bouquet of flowers down a road with a posted speed limit of 55 in the 90-degree heat.  What would make a person do such a thing?  He totally cheated, I'm telling you.

And next time, screw the movie, I'm turning around to ask.     

RIP Bob Barciz

What seems like only a short while ago, the most important thing in my life was playing basketball.  And during my eighth grade year at St. Thomas Aquinas on the east side of Toledo, the most important thing about basketball was beating the girls down the road from St. Stephen's.  We were huge rivals in the world of girls CYO basketball and at the time, it was pretty intense.  So naturally, it came as a huge blow to lose to them in what would be our last tournament meeting.  To make things worse, their win sent us to the loser's bracket.

In the fourth quarter of the toilet bowl championship, the girls from St. Stephen's, lead by their grey-haired coach, marched across the court during a time-out and gathered around the end of our bench.  We were miffed.  Were they here to taunt us?  Warm up early for the real championship game?  Run us out of the building.  Nope.  Nothing could have been more shocking than to realize they had come to cheer for us.  After all, we were playing a team from the OTHER side of town.  This served as my first official lesson that east-siders stick together. 

As we took the floor, a chant started behind us:  East. Side. Pride!  East. Side. Pride!  The gym filled with chanting and clapping.  Pretty soon our fans stood up to join them, and the other team was finished.  I actually, honest to God, remember noticing how pleased their coach was by what had happened.  And that's how I came to meet Coach Bob Barciz.

Soon after, Coach Barciz put together a summer league called the East Side All-Stars (were you expecting a different name?) and he asked me to be on the team.  It would mean playing with girls from different schools around the area, but mostly girls from St. Stephen's.  It was meant to serve as the starting point for the girls that would attend Cardinal Stritch High School together and soon be on the same team anyway.  Plus, it was easy to see that old Coach Barciz loved the game of basketball, and he loved his players.  I jumped at the chance, eager to see what I could learn from this new coach.

As it turned out, Coach Barciz was not just passing us along to the high school.  He stuck around for the next four years and, at different times, served as freshman coach, summer league coach, scout and personal life coach.  During summer league ball before my senior year, a girl from the opposing team slammed into me and I completely blew my knee out.  No chance for recovery before the season started.  

Obviously, Division 5 high schools aren't a college scouter's paradise for finding potential talent, but I had a few Division 3 and even Division 2 colleges interested.  I had never dreamed of playing for a big-time school, I had never dreamed of being the best player out there--I just loved to play.  With my injury, however, my chances of playing college basketball were pretty slim and I was deflated.  Few people understood how my world had been turned upside-down.  But Coach Barciz, who wasn't even technically my coach anymore, reached out and offered a helping hand.

He called me everyday immediately after my injury.  (After awhile, he scaled it back to once a week.)  He stayed after games to talk to me when I decided to forgo surgery and play with a brace.  He showed up at my house to visit after I gave in and finally had surgery in December.  And the next summer, exactly one year to the date of my injury, the phone rang and I heard his scratchy voice telling me he was going to pick me up in his big boat of a car to take me out for ice cream.

In his obituary today, they called us his basketball sons and daughters.  I caught him on the tail-end of his coaching days, so I imagine there are hundreds, if not thousands, of young people Coach Barciz helped in a similar fashion.  I think about all he did and how much of himself he gave to others for so many years.  Giving up Saturdays to be at the gym, staying up late at night to draw up a new play, and waiting time after time until the last parent came to pick up their child.  Seeking out the child who needed encouragement, standing up for the child who needed support and uniting two rival teams so the high school experience would be far more productive and enjoyable.  

It's a wonder that I'm just now realizing that Coach Barciz was teaching us life skills as well as basketball.  How to be leaders, to be civic-minded, to invest heavily in your community and the people in it, to look at time as your companion, not your enemy.  To love those people around you, not those things around you.  And that a simple trip for ice cream can change a person forever.

RIP Coach Barciz.  You will be missed.   

    

Safety Officer Goes for a Zip

Most people who know me understand that I most definitely do not have a daredevil personality.  P, however, is always finding new things for us to get into.  Whitewater rafting, cliff jumping, emergency surgery in a foreign country--he's not afraid of much.  Which is fine, except that he tries to get me to participate in these activities with him.  It never ends well (I slipped down a hill trying to rope swing and got thrown from a whitewater rafting boat) but he keeps trying, God love him.  

This past Saturday I showed him an article I read about a new zip line in Hocking Hills.  I was suggesting it as an activity for him and his buddies, but five minutes later he had us booked for a Sunday tour.  Smart kid, that P.  Didn't give me long enough to back out.  So Sunday afternoon we packed up and headed down to the Hocking Hills Canopy Tours.  Much to my surprise, I had an awesome time.  Me, the Safety Officer, had a great time zipping between treestands 60 feet in the air, for 3 hours with no emergency exit.  In fact, I can't wait to do it again.  Here are some pictures of our tour.  Let me know what you think:

 

Here we are before walking across the bridge to the first zipline.  I have that look on my face that says "He's really going to make me do this.  Crap."  Really, it's behind the smile.  And under the hardhat. 

This is one of the swinging bridges we had to cross.  Surprisingly, it's one of the things that scared me the most.  I thought I would have trouble with the actual ziplining, but it was the heights that got to me.  After crossing this bridge, I hugged the tree while taking long deep breaths--I was actually nauseous.

This is me coming in for a landing and actually having fun!

  

Youins. Is it in Your Dictionary?

I heard a new word tonight.  Notice I used the word "heard" not "learned."  I don't plan on ever using the word, but I thought I'd share it with you:  youins.  As in "Are youins gonna be there at 6:00?"  or "I'm counting on youins."

Now, the first time I heard the word, I thought I heard wrong or it was a slip of the tongue.  But then it was used a second, third and fourth time.  There's no mistaking it.  Someone out there uses the word "youins" on purpose.  You've been warned.

Summertime Brings Out the Crazies

Driving to work this morning, I passed a hitchhiker. And not just a normal hitchhiker, if there is such a thing. No, this guy was on a bike with his sleep mat rolled up and strapped behind his seat, with a sign attached that read "Need Ride, Just Honk."

Wait, wait, wait.

Hitchhikers are now giving directions and offering suggestions? And as the driver, I'm expected to not only give rides, but load bikes? And what kind of greedy hitchhiker solicites car rides while riding a bike? A hitchhiker with a bike is better off than like 99% of all hitchhikers out there. (*Not an official statistic, just a guess. But I think it's a really good guess.)

Then, at lunchtime, I was driving back to work and almost hit a guy swerving his bike back and forth in the middle of several lanes of traffic. Sound like a middle schooler enjoying his summer break? Nope, just a 50-something year old man wearing a red polyester track suit trying to operate what looked like a just-stolen middle schooler's bike.

Thank goodness I didn't see anything crazy on my way home from work. Unless you count the wild-haired guy who held the door for me at Speedway. I said thanks and he answered me with a grunt. An actual, guttural grunt. (And to think I was just getting ready to compliment the do-it-yourself tattoo on his left bicep.) But he kind of saved the day for me at checkout. As the lady rang up his 6-pack of Busch Light (bottles), she asked,

"That it?"

And he grunted in one of the lowest voices I've ever heard, "Nah. I got gas."

Well, my friend, if you don't already, you will tomorrow after those Busch Lights.

VHS Update: Because I Know You Care

I ran across a few more movies to add to my list: The Princess Bride, When Harry Met Sally, Stand By Me, Labyrinth and if you're P, the Ernest movies.  I think his favorite is Ernest Goes to Camp.  It's hard to argue with that pick.

In related movie news, our local Blockbuster was having a huge sale on previously viewed DVDs.  I picked up four movies for $20:  Waitress, Superbad, the aforementioned When Harry Met Sally and Evening.  I also got Thank You for Smoking for $3.99.  I've never seen the last two, but I bought them so I didn't have to buy Porky's or some random Stone Cold Steve Austin movie.  

Also, we saw two good movies this week that I would recommend to anyone who likes thrillers.  Shooter with Mark "The funkiest of the bunch" Walhberg and Untraceable starring Diane Lane.  Both good flicks if you're looking for a quality rental.   

Be Kind, Please Rewind

Maybe it's because we're old-fashioned. Maybe it's because we're just not that into technology. Or maybe it's because we're "if it ain't broke, don't fix it" type of people. Whatever the reason, we still own and use a VCR.

It's actually a little 19-inch TV/VCR combo that I bought for my college dorm room. I got it at Value City for around $80 and my mom DID NOT want me to waste my money on it. Because #1, it was from Value City (if you don't know me, take with you this one thing: I heart the VC) and #2, it was a combo unit which, according to something she read, break easily.

Well, here I am 10 years later and five years into marriage, and that thing still sits on my dresser. Sometimes I long for a cute flat screen with a sleek DVD player. The picture would be better and we'd have twice as much space for more of my junk piles on the dresser. The one thing that holds us back? Laying in bed at night and watching some of our favorite movies that just happen to be on VHS tapes.

I know, I know. We could easily replace all of them with DVDs. But I am currently not that organized and I'm guessing that I won't be anytime soon. So we end up watching a lot of our favorites that we'd probably forget about otherwise. I'm talking about movies like Back to the Future, The Goonies, Maverick, Top Gun (I didn't put those next to each other on purpose, I swear), The Last of the Mohicans and friggin' Memphis Belle.

We've spent the last few nights watching Back to the Future and I'm amazed by how much that movie rocks. It's so original and creative, I just can't get over it. The flux capacitor, 1.21 gigawatts, and "Get your damn hands off her." Not to mention the fabulous performances from Michael J. Fox, Crispin Glover and Christopher Lloyd. And to think, with a DVD player in our bedroom, Back to the Future might have been lost to us except for the occasional showing on TBS.

So I think we're all set on the technology front for now. Or until the TV/VCR combo breaks, just like my mom said it would.

P.S. Value City, I knew you wouldn't let me down.