Breaking last night: Trump tested positive for COVID.
Welcome another episode of the craziness of 2020.
Right now, I don’t know the implications of this, but other than wishing the President and First Lady well, there isn’t a lot to be said.
Yesterday was interesting to the say the least. I don’t recall the last time - professionally - I’ve been so flummoxed and frustrated. This is par for the course these last few months.
Marcos played his first football game last night. It’s always strange, Marcos always has a rough first couple of games. Ever since middle school. By the third game of the season he’s roaring in there hitting people and making plays. It’s just those first couple. Don’t get it.
So needless to say, he was a little frustrated after the game with his performance. I’m proud of him. He’s worked his ass off to get where he’s at and without much help from me. Marcos has a vision of his head of *who* and *what* he wants to be. I just try to make sure he’s able to do the things he can.
But anyways, here’s the thing, during the turmoil of yesterday I remembered this interview from Martin Scorsese.
Scorsese was talking about this Western, I don’t remember the name. And Scorsese mentioned this line, “you want to walk into your house - justified.”
The interviewer cut to a clip of the movie (again, I don’t know the name, maybe I should watch it).
But here you have this rugged cowboy and he’s talking to somebody and they’re going somewhere they’re not coming back from, and he delivers this line, “at the end of the day, I just want to walk into my house - justified.” And I loved that line. Of course, Scorsese goes on and on about it, the guy is movie freak.
So yesterday, in the midst of this freak storm that I’ve seen coming from a mile away for months, this line hit me. Because it’s true on some level.
Regardless of what other people’s perception might be or the goals that are impressed on you, at the end of the day, you have to be proud of what you do. I mean, that’s life in a nutshell. You could work at McDonalds or be the CEO of company or selling vacuum cleaners in the age of Roombas, and still hit a big o’l zero, at the end of the day, you have to ask: did I leave it all on the table.
The irony is that I had to explain this a couple of weeks ago. And yesterday, in the midst of the storm, wondering how the hell I was going to work through this, I remembered having to articulate this very point.
And it was if, my guardian angel was nudging me with its elbow, “hey, buddy, remember this...”
Damn it.
Because truth be told, I was ready to throw my hands up, and cower away from the fight. It’s weird, because I haven’t had to fight for a long time.
So that’s the new mantra going forward and the new question: at the end of the day, do I feel justified when I get up from my chair.
I’ll be honest, I did a couple of things yesterday, that made the day “worth it.” The first thing was writing this “skating the river” post and two was recording Marcos’ game. Granted, I hadn’t seen the footage yet (it could suck), but hey, at least I was shooting. And that’s one of my favorite things to do.
The other thing I did, is that after the game, which ended way later that expected, is that we grabbed dinner at McDonald’s.
Usually, what will happen is Marcos will go to his room and Lucy and I will plop on the couch and watch a show while we eat.
But Marcos had a rough game. I asked, “hey, let’s eat here in the kitchen.” He balked, said, he didn’t want to talk. “Come on,” I said.
So he did. And Lucy sat down next to him. I ate at the island. Not a lot was said. We just ate our McD’s and ate. It was cool. He said, “thank you for the food.” And Lucy said, she loved him.
“At the end of the day...”
Granted, I’m already *in* the house, but yes, yes, I do.
By the way, speaking of movie lines, Skating the River.
There was this one line from the movie Mystery, Alaska, about this game of hockey that this small town played. One of the things the up and comers would do is “skate the river,” to prepare for playing this storied game.
Russel Crowe is nearing retirement and the town is considering replacing him with some younger kid. And one of the towns people looks at him and tell him, this kid has been “skating the river.”
In fact, the opening shot of the movie is of this one skater, alone, skating over this frozen river.
Skating the River is practice. And this is what this is -- practice. For what, I’m not quite sure yet, but I’m willing to find out.