An Olympic Opening, 2012

Tonight, despite thick, under-conditioned air, I finished the 60 minutes at 7.8mph on the treadmill goal I set for myself at the gym.  I distinctly remember wanting to quit at 15, 20, 30, 45, and once I got to 50min, I knew I would finish.  Even at 53min, when my stomach was knotting, I pushed through (I wouldn't really vomit, would I?).  I counted down the last 90 seconds.  I thought of an athlete in the final 10 seconds of their gold medal hope.  When I finally finished, I was so happy I did it.  I immediately resolved to write this so I could read this again.  It's always worth it to finish.

The opening ceremony of the 2012 London Olympics is airing on NBC as I write this.  I've already caught the bug.  I know how I'll be spending the next two weeks.

Tonight on Facebook I posted Jamie McGregor Smith's feature in the New York Times Lens Blog, from her  work "Borrow, Build, Abandon", on the state of the 2004 Athens Olympics stadiums, which only eight years later have fallen into neglected decay.  How quickly splendid becomes forgotten.  I remembered my Latin, sic transit gloria mundi (thus passes the glory of the world).

Also: the opening ceremony featured Caliban's "Be not afeard" speech from The Tempest.  I love the line "...when I waked I cried to dream again".  I remember December dreams of my youth receiving an 8-bit Nintendo for Christmas, what I wished for more than anything, and what my mother would never buy, only to wake up to the creeping horror that I still didn't have a Nintendo.  So, five years ago, today, my youngest brother Scott died.  Regularly since then (and just again the night before last) I dreamt he was able to somehow "come back" and rejoin us the living.  It didn't usually happen, he said, but it did then, and we could hang out again and I'd be able to savor the second chance we were given.  We'd be able to just hang out again, talk, and I'd have my brother again, and I was so relived and thankful.  But soon I woke up.

It was a dream that was sad to wake up from.  I miss you, Scott.

It's True, It's True!

Henry Cejudo, the 21 year-old U.S. wrestler who grabbed gold in Beijing was the hero of his event, but 12 years ago in Atlanta, Kurt Angle won gold and later made the transition to the WWF, lecturing crowd of the philosophy of his 3 i's: Intensity, Integrity and Intelligence. You could see the technical finesse in the simplest of his moves. But moreover, he was undoubtedly the funniest wrestler. He would make fun of the local sports teams, especially when there was a scandal in the news: "unlike Darryl Strawberry, the only thing I'm addicted to is gold" or telling the Boston crowd if only they followed his three I's, they might actually be able to win a World Series. More broadly he would parade around ridiculing the stereotypes of wherever his visited (such as threatening calling INS to the crowd in San Diego):

• And just like so many other cities in this great nation, Greensboro, North Carolina doesn't' have the most intelligent people in the world and nor will they ever.But, just like the old song goes: two out of three ain't bad, so if you stick with the intensity and the Integrity, you'll do just fine.
• Virginia is for lovers, provided those lovers are not from the same family
• (In D.C.) Like George Washington, I cannot tell a lie. The Big Show is a big waste of talent. And Like Abraham Lincoln, I'm honest almost to a fault. If the Big Show had my 3 I's, then maybe he wouldn't be such a big disappointment and like Marion Barry, actually I'm nothing like Marion Barry and shame on you for reelecting that guy.
  I'm the European Champion. But I realize down here in Texas, not a lot of people know where Europe is. But hey, hold on a second, its not your fault. Actually its your educational system here in Austin Texas. It is. But once I win that belt, not only do I promise to entertain, but I promise to educate you as well."
• I used to think the only good things to come out of Canada were maple syrup and Michael J. Fox, but I was wrong.

He often mocked his fellow wrestlers: "Down here, I see a 7 foot tall 340 pound bag of muscle who hides behind a mask and doesn't speak a word and why, because he lacks integrity and he obviously lacks intelligence. Sure he has intensity. There's no doubt about that, but that can only take you so far, Kane."..."Maybe if you spent a little less time crying over spilt milk, and a little more time drinking it like me, you'd finally be a winner"..."I just want to say to everyone that, even though I suplexed an eighty-two-year-old pregnant woman, I am still a role model for children, not to mention elderly people as well." His very best commentary very knowingly poked fun at the ridiculousness of the WWF:

• (On Scotty 2 Hotty's "worm") If your Olympic Hero were to use the Worm in the 1996 Olympic Games, it would be so embarrassing to all the other athletes - and our country, mind you - that the USA would have finished behind Guam.
• ...not to mention our former tag team champions lost their titles after my good friend Christian was hit in the genitals with a hockey stick by a midget! I mean enough is enough."
• (To "Justin Credible") You know... when one speaks your name very fast, it just sounds like just incredible
• (To "The Undertaker") Undertaker, if that is your real name..."

Life needs more Kurt Angles'...

In Scott's bedroom is a Polaroid picture of my brother (he was probably about 11 or 12 at the time), Angel's huge arm is around him. We were both fans and I - a freshman in college at the time - told him about a visit Angle was making to Trumbull mall, so Scott went, excited to meet his hero. Angle came to him when his back was turned, and the picture was taken just after Scott turned around. He looks so happy in the picture. When times were rough for him, and especially the night he died, I always wonder if he looked at the picture. I also think of the picture - the younger, happier version of himself - looking out into the room at him, silent witness to whatever misery might be going on.

But thank you for taking the picture with him, Kurt Angle. It meant - it means - a lot to me.

More Dreams...

Much worse than nightmares are really really good dreams. All dreams end, and reality is much longer-lasting than any dream. Nightmares are a relief to wake up from, while it can be emotional devastating to wake up from a really good dream.

I still recall the Christmas I got a Super Nintendo system, and how much fun I had playing it that morning. Then I woke up and in a panic started tearing my room apart looking for some shred of evidence that it wasn't just a dream, as it slowly dawned on me that it was still about two weeks before Christmas.

I remember sitting on the bus that morning, trying to fall back asleep, hoping I could get find my way back to my happy dream world. Unfortunately, you can never return to the dreams you want you. Sometimes, dreams are so much preferable to our reality. By the way, I didn't get the Nintendo for Christmas that year.

Again, last night I dreamt of my brother. In this dream, I was home in Norwalk, and suddenly appeared around the corner. I was initially freaked out, because I understood then that he was dead, but then calmed down a bit. I guess he was a ghost, and was able to be around the house, interacting with my family and me. It was basically as it was before, except now he had the ability to turn invisible (I think I asked him at one point if he was, like, haunting the house, and he sort of just shrugged his shoulders and said he didn't know). No except me, my mom, and Eric could see him; Becca was over at one point and I was trying to explain things to her, but she didn't believe me. For "proof", I called to Scott to bang once on the wall if was there and twice if he wasn't (not the most logical command). Suddenly, the door of the room flew open, and there was a loud bang on the wall. Becca just sat with her jaw open.

Even if he was dead, I was just so happy that we could at least talk and interact, which was the only real important thing, anyway. I asked him what he was thinking doing what he did, and he said he took nine alcoholic drinks so he wasn't really thinking. It was more like an "oops" moment, because with him still around, there weren't really any consequences. I figured I could just live at the house and hang out. I was so happy...in a sense, it was another "second chance" dream. Truly, it was the happiest dream I had in a long time.

And waking up this morning was the hardest wake-up I can remember. Even last summer, when I did my dream journal, there were countless dreams where I was so happy to get second chances because my dad was alive. That was five years after his death. It hasn't even been three weeks after Scott's. Methinks there are lots to come...

And I wonder if Scott has substituted for my father for the moment. I wonder what it would be like if they're both in my dream at once?

Adam's (and Scott's) Song

I never thought I'd die alone
I laughed the loudest who'd have known
I traced the cord back to the wall
No wonder it was never plugged in at all
I took my time, I hurried up
The choice was mine, I didn't think enough
I'm too depressed, to go on
You'll be sorry when I'm gone

I never conquered, rarely came
Sixteen just held such better days
Days when I still felt alive
We couldn't wait to get outside
The world was wide, too late to try
The tour was over we'd survived
I couldn't wait till I got home
To pass the time in my room alone

I never thought I'd die alone
Another six months I'll be unknown
Give all my things to all my friends
You'll never set foot in my room again
You'll close it off, board it up
Remember the time that I spilled the cup
Of apple juice in the hall
Please tell mom this is not her fault

I never conquered, rarely came
Sixteen just held such better days
Days when I still felt alive
We couldn't wait to get outside
The world was wide, too late to try
The tour was over we'd survived
I couldn't wait till I got home
To pass the time in my room alone

I never conquered, rarely came
Tomorrow holds such better days
Days when I can still feel alive
When I can't wait to get outside
The world is wide, the time goes by
The tour is over, I'd survived
I can't wait till I get home
To pass the time in my room alone

- blink-182

First Dream...

And the dreams have started....This morning, I had the first with my deceased brother in it. It wasn't quite as freaky as that of my first dream of my father after he died...when he came in with blood-red eyes, sat us down in the living room and short of shrugged his shoulders at us asking how he was. There have been many since. At less than two weeks since my brother died, it's starting much sooner (and incidentally, the ones of my father have never stopped...).

In high school, doing a Columbine-style shooting, but I'm one of the accomplices...the other two are the killers from Gus Van Zant's Elephant (a movie I wanted to show to Scott)...I didn't really kill any students, but because I had seen the movie and already knew what was "supposed" to happen, I was pointing out to the other two what they were "supposed" to do (I was directing them in a way). Eventually, the police and SWAT team showed up and I knew I was dead (i.e., they'd gun me down)...I shot at them from the windows with my assault rifle to stall them. Suddenly, the blond killer shows up like at the end (and I knew the other was "supposed" to surprisingly kill him then) but, I shot him first (multiple times as he was thrown against the wall) although after about three shots the dark-haired killer joined in. I then told the the dark-haired killer to go tothe couple hiding in the kitchen (eenie, meenie, minie, moe). I later heard two gun shots, confirming how I suspected that movie would have played out. Suddenly the SWAT team was about to break through...I lost my weapon and convinced the (gullible) SWAT leader I was an innocent student, but knew they'd figure out sooner or later the truth of my involvement. They left me to attack the dark-haired killer, and I then stepped into a side gym and plotted my escape....perhaps knowing it was a dream, I got the idea I had the ability to will myself wherever I wanted to be...I thought about home, and my brother...the room got dark, I saw myself falling into a black hole, and found myself at the corner of Ambler and George in Norwalk. Instantly, Scott in his Jeep turned the corner.

Scott drove me to the house, we went upstairs into his room. He looked maybe five years younger than when I saw him last. I somehow became convinced all this was the product of time travel, that I really had gotten a second chance to save him (sort of like a reverse The Terminator or in Back to the Future where Marty wants to warn Doc about getting killed) because it was really several years in the past (prior to today). But, I was so overwhelmed with emotion, I just began to cry, balling my eyes out, and grabbing his legs (he was sitting) not wanting to let him go. I think he was a bit freaked out by my reaction. At some point, I became aware that he had been time traveling, too, and was aware of many parts of his life, including the future (it was all very Slaughterhouse Five). So, with choked voice I asked him if he knew what would happen to him in July, 2007, but he said he didn't know, and I was unable to tell him...I was just too choked up. I just tried to beg him to take care of himself, but he slowly and increasingly became distracted in playing Super Mario Brothers 3 on his Gameboy (I also was momentarily distracted when I saw how fun the game was). I became worried (and then convinced) that is death would be inevitable, as I just couldn't get through to him. I then woke up to a sense of increasing dread as I realized it was all a dream, and he was gone forever - and I really didn't have my one chance to save him.