Looking For Good In One Very Bad Year

I hadn’t planned on writing an end of the year post, certainly not while December was still in its early stages. But, more often than not, life gets in the way of many of our best laid plans. And, sad to say, death does too.

2008 has not been a good year. For me, personally, and for most of the world, it seems that this year is one for the books in terms of bad news.

My wife and I, like millions of others (dare I say, billions?), have seen our net worth reduced by numbers too large and ugly to put into print. Yet we both remain employed, still have the wherewithal to earn decent livings, and are thankful for that. But millions of others are unemployed, and from all the forecasts things will certainly get worse before they get better.

But even though those are big challenges to overcome, it’s only money, right? At least you have your health…right?

2008 has been a trying year health-wise for me. My left shoulder began acting up early in the year, to the point where it needed to be surgically repaired, and still is far from one hundred percent. Yet I am thankful that the rest of me is okay. But that’s just me. And it’s only a sore shoulder. Things could be worse.

What if that sore shoulder turned out to be something bigger? It’s not, but, again, that’s just me--I got lucky. Sadly, my brother and his new bride did not.

One of my best memories of this past year was being asked to participate in my brother‘s wedding. In a year often filled with gloom and doom, this joyous event was a nice respite from the darkness. Yet for all its happiness, that day had a foreboding shrouding the event. My new sister-in-law, a lovely bride and the sparkle in my brother’s eye, was sick. They pushed up their nuptials by several months to accommodate her illness. Life and its paradoxes. 2008, that dreadful, yet wonderful, year.

They remain deeply in love and are hanging in there, both doing all that they can to make the best of their situation, doing what we humans often do when facing adversity: persevere, deal and cope, live life.

Life.

And death.

The reason I am writing this post today is due to having to fly Back East in a few days to attend a funeral. My step-father, one of the kindest, nicest men I have had the pleasure to meet, and a wonderful companion for my mother over the past eleven years, succumbed to illness and age on the anniversary of the Pearl Harbor invasion. This is significant given that he fought in that war, returned with a wound and a determination to live life to its fullest every day. Which he did for eighty-eight years. My entire family are better people for having known him. And my mom? She’s tough, a survivor. But recovering from losing your love, that person with whom you share your daily existence, takes time.

It will take well into next year, and possibly the next, to fully recover from the many loses felt during this trying year. And that is what this post is really about, what livelife365.com is all about.

Living your life
Every day
Every way
Not letting anyone (or anything)
Stand in your way.

In memory of my step-father, in honor of my mother, with love to my brother, his wife, and the rest of my family (especially my wife and my son [Happy Birthday, Kiddo!]), and to all those who lost someone or something dear to them during this troubling year, I offer you my latest song, "livelife365":

Now playing: livelife365

I hope this inspires you, as it does me, to live your life to its fullest every day. And while 2008 has not been one of the better years in recent memory, it has been a year in your life. Good or bad, it’s your life. Your year. And it should be remembered for that.

Until next time…

peace,

Mike

Cut Yourself A Break This Holiday Season

Is there anything worse than being on a diet during the holidays? How about being on a diet period? Even if you’re not on a specific weight reduction/maintenance program, but are just practicing healthy eating habits (like my high-fiber diet), holidays, especially family gatherings around the dinner table, can be a challenge.

I have a simple solution for all your holiday eating angst:

CUT YOURSELF A BREAK!

What does that really mean, huh, Mike?

Simply: enjoy yourself, don’t hold back. Eat.

Really?

Yup.

How much?

As much as you like, within reason.

Wow, cool, fair enough. One more question?

Shoot.

Why? How? Huh?

That was more than one question, but here goes:

The holiday eating season should be treated no differently than cutting yourself some slack on weekends or at a wedding reception or any number of other special occasions that life tosses your way. I am very strict when it comes to healthy eating and proper diet, but I cut myself a break all the time. In fact, I don’t even like using the word “diet” when it is referred to in the “I’m on a diet” sense. A “diet” is what you eat daily. Your daily “diet” should already be a healthy one, and if it’s not then what does it matter what you eat, or how much you eat, during the holidays?

Huh?

Here’s the thing: if you have been successfully eating the right foods and the right amounts, have been maintaining your goal weight or at least have been able to make healthy strides toward those goals, then you already KNOW what it takes to live a healthy life: eat the right foods and the right amounts, exercise, and enjoy each day.

CUT YOURSELF A BREAK!

My point is, if you “cheat” a little during this upcoming holiday season, maybe gain a few unwanted pounds, it’s not the end of the world. You already know how to lose those pounds. And if you are currently practicing healthy dietary choices, like those suggested at livelife365.com, then you already understand what you can and cannot eat.

You will probably practice self-control without even being conscious of it. And if you don’t and decide to grab that second slice of pie or opt for seconds on the turkey and gravy, don’t fret:

CUT YOURSELF A BREAK!


And enjoy these special occasions with family, friends, food, and fun.

Life is short.
Life is, at times, challenging.
But life is also a celebration of living. Part of living is breaking bread with family and friends.

Cut yourself a break this holiday season…and pass the mashed potatoes…and bean casserole…and candied yams…and pumpkin pie…and…

HAPPY THANKSGIVING

Two more videos to enjoy during this holiday season:

On Being a Vegetarian During the Holidays

Mike‘s 30 Second Doritos Ad, and some Funny Outtakes


Until next time…

peace,

Mike

My Mom Makes One Mean Lasagna

During my recent visit Back East to, among other things, attend my brother‘s wedding, I also stumbled upon a serendipitous epiphany of gourmet delectability.

Huh?

Big words (just showing off) that merely mean: My Mom Makes One Mean Lasagna!

One Mean Vegetable Lasagna, that is.

I grew up in a half-Italian household, by that I mean an Italian household. If you know Italians, then you understand that they have a tendency to dominate a room…or a home. Gastronomically speaking, this is a good thing! The funny thing is, my mom is not the Italian in the family, she’s French. But by marrying an Italian man, she was bound by Sicilian and old Francis Ford Coppola Films tradition to learn, from a genuine Nana, how to make a
tomato sauce from scratch. And also how to please the garlic- and olive oil-loving palate of a gentleman with a vowel at the end of this last name. The good news: she more than passed the test; she excelled.

Have I mentioned: My Mom Makes One Mean Lasagna!

So, when I informed my mother that I would be taking that big (not that big, actually) jumbo jet in the sky back to her neck of the woods to be among family and friends to celebrate her youngest child’s nuptials, she naturally asked if she could cook something special for me. And I naturally requested her World Famous Lasagna…but with one catch.

Mike: Can you make me a vegetable lasagna?
Mom: Oh…I’ve never made one of those.
Mike: I know, that’s why I’m asking you. No meatballs.
Mom: Oh…you used to love my meatballs.
Mike: Yes, Ma, I did, but I’m a vegetarian now. Remember?
Mom: Oh…right. You can’t eat meatballs?
Mike: No meat, Ma. None. So, can you make a meatless lasagna?
Mom: Oh…I suppose. What kind of vegetables do you want?
Mike: Anything, surprise me.
Mom: Oh…
Mike: And no pork fat, please, in the sauce.
Mom: Oh…dear…what?
Mike: Mom?
Mom: Oh…but I always use pork fat.
Mike: Yes, I know. Can you use something else?
Mom: Oh…I suppose…
Mike: Mom?
Mom: Oh…
Mike: Mom?
Mom: Oh…

On and on it went until we agreed that olive oil would be a healthy and tasty alternative to the pork fat my mother usually adds to the saucepan in which to sauté the onions and garlic and whatever else she uses to start her World Famous Tomato Sauce.

During the weeks and days leading up to my trip Back East, my mother would call often, grilling me on my vegetable preferences.

Mike: Hello?
Mom: Michael, do you like mushrooms?
Mike: Huh?
Mom: For the lasagna.
Mike: Oh. Yeah, sure, love ‘em.
Mom: How about your brother?
Mike: Huh?
Mom: Do you think he’s allergic to them?
Mike: Huh?
Mom: Or his fiancée?
Mike: Huh?
Mom: How about eggplant?
Mike: Huh?
Mom: Cauliflower?
Mike: …

After numerous calls and some serious consideration of adding my mother’s phone number to my “no-call” list, we settled on what will from this point on be known as “The Masterpiece.”

I landed in my old state on a Monday and sat down to a small gathering of family and friends at mom’s house on a Tuesday. My salivary glands the only part of my body not suffering from jet lag, I watched with utter amazement as my tiny mother removed from the oven a tray of vegetable lasagna, slightly larger than some of the carry-on luggage I saw my fellow air passengers unsuccessfully trying to cram into the overhead bin.

Heaped upon a plate before me was a wedge of lasagna, roughly the size of my head while wearing a large hat. I dug in. It melted in my mouth. The veggies were cooked just right; not too crunchy or too limp. And the tomato sauce was the best ever: savory and vibrant. Without the overpowering (sorry meat-eaters) presence of the meatballs and pork fat, I could taste more of the tomato and garlic, which also brought out the succulent olio of flavor from the broccoli, mushrooms, cauliflower, and eggplant.


It was delicious!

It was “The Masterpiece.”

When I stated that my mom made one mean lasagna, I wasn’t kidding. Now I can emphatically add that:

My Mom Makes One Mean Vegetable Lasagna!

The moral of this story: For a healthier, tastier life, go veggie and hold the meatballs.

Until next time…

peace,

Mike

Do You Believe?

A few weeks ago, I had the honor of participating in my brother’s wedding, as an usher. Why not best man, you ask? Been there and done that—let’s just say we both agreed that another best man selection was in order this time around, given the unfortunate results of my bro’s first wedding.

I have mentioned in previous posts (and videos) that this celebration was thrown together in a short period of time due to medical circumstances that I will not elaborate on in this post. Let me just say that in little more than a month’s time, my brother and his amazing bride created a memorable, spectacular, and emotional event that had the look and feel of years of planning.

But something else occurred that day, an event that borders on the otherworldly, hints at Divine Intervention, and whispers of miracle.

Now do I have your attention?

My father was taken from our family way too early—gone from this earth in his mid-50’s, the victim of heavy cigarette and alcohol addictions that left him gasping for breath through emphysema-ravaged lungs. His death changed my life. It was not long after he died that I took control of my own self-destructive habits and turned my life around. But this post is not about my life, it is about my father…and how he may have attended my brother’s wedding.

After days of worrying about the possibility of rain ruining things, the day turned out to be spectacular—a vital factor for an outdoor wedding. The venue was stunning: one of the oldest hotels on a scenic island in the littlest state in the Union. With the shimmering bay and majestic bridge as a backdrop, the wedding party stood excited and ready before hundreds of well-wishers. Dark clouds rolled in, but not to dampen the spirit of the day, but instead arrived to offer a protective canopy of shade from the harsh sun.

I was relaxed, content, happy to be standing beside my brother, enjoying the ceremony, offering an occasional glance at family and friends in the crowd. Everything was going well, everything was normal…when overhead I heard the drone of an engine, barely noticeable at first, then gradually building in intensity. Being on public display, I didn’t want to disrupt the ceremony with any overt actions or gestures, but as the noise built and it became obvious what was causing it—a jet, seemingly from out of nowhere, buzzing the quietude—I couldn’t help myself.

I surreptitiously canted my head and caught sight of the plane as it burst through a gray cloud and soared into a sea of blue, the sun glinting off one wing, which seemed to tilt just as my eyes made contact with it.

As the jet motored across the partially cloudy sky, and the words of the wedding ceremony sang in my ears, an almost surreal sensation overcame me—Dad! That was my father in that jet plane! A sad and satisfied smile tugged at the corners of my mouth and, as the plane’s engines sounds began to fade into the background, I returned my focus and attention back to the wedding.

My father flew jets in the Navy. He was one of those brave pilots who land on aircraft carriers in the middle of the ocean. When he left the service, he flew small prop planes. (One of my biggest childhood thrills was going up in one of those planes and my dad allowing me to “co-pilot” the aircraft.)

A few hours into the wedding reception, I ran into my uncle, my father’s brother. He asked if I had noticed the jet flying over during the ceremony. In a flash, the image of that plane, and all those strange sensations associated with its sudden appearance at my brother’s wedding, came rushing back to me. I told my uncle I had seen it, why?

“I thought of your father,” he said. “In fact, I thought it was your father.”

An eerie chill sent my flesh vibrating.

“So did I,” I told him.

We looked at each other, both of us realizing the absurdity of our wishful thinking, while sharing a secret smile of hope and dreams and faith that perhaps it was not so far-fetched after all.

“Because,” my uncle added, “this is not a normal flyover route, you know. And there was no air traffic before the wedding and none since that jet. Strange, huh?”

You don’t know the half of it.

Much later on that long and happy day, in the wee hours of the morning, I reiterated to my brother my conversation with our uncle, as well as my own observations about that lone jet. He said he’d not noticed the jet, but was elated to think that it could have been dad. In fact, he said he had no doubt that it must have our father. (Of course, he had been partying a bit.) Then he added this bombshell: his new bride’s father (also no longer of this world) also flew jets! It was not only our dad in that ethereal plane, but her father too.

As my brother rushed off, jubilation and awe painting his over-celebrated face, to share this revelation with this new bride, I sat back and reflected on the day…on that moment.

Was it real?

Did it happen?

Was it only a jet gliding overhead, oblivious to the events below?

Or was it…?

Because, after all, what is faith but the belief in something we are unable to prove exists.

Think about it.

peace,

Mike

Stay Tuned...

For those of you who are sick of staring at the same post for these past several days—good news! I have returned from an emergency trip across the country and I am armed and ready and willing to write some new stuff. I appreciate all of the wonderful comments on my last post about my very successful humorous music video, I Miss My Hair. And really appreciate your patience with my keeping that post up while I was away. I did manage to sneak in a few hours here and there to try to keep up with Entrecard drops and other social networking chores, but, for the most part, I was busy with family matters.

Hopefully, in future posts, I will be able to elaborate more on why I was called away, but I can say that it was a paradoxical trip Back East to my hometown—part celebration and part dealing with some of the challenges life hands us. I will say this: I enjoyed my time spent with my family and was inspired, thankful, and thrilled to be a part of my brother’s wedding.

While I was away I was tagged twice and nominated for two blogging awards. I have not forgotten these wonderful honors. I will respond to all four in my next post…which will be forthcoming very soon.

Until then, it is good to be back. The photo I chose for this post represents my mood; happy, but still in a bit of a fog.

peace,
Mike