Seva's first subway ride

Yesterday (Sunday, August 24th) was Seva's first ride on a subway.  Seva loved it.  Jeannie and I picked up the Broad Street Line at Walnut-Locust station, then transferred at City Hall to the Market-Frankford Line, which we took to the Spring Garden station.  Especially during the longer ride on the MFL, with Seva sitting on my lap in a window seat, she looked intently out of the window at the lights periodically spaced out between the stations and then she looked curiously at the station whenever we were stopped.  For only being four and a half months old, she certainly seemed to enjoy it.

Once we got off at the Spring Garden station we walked down to Delaware Avenue and then over to Morgan's Pier, for an "event" or better yet evening of Polido Social Club.  The Morgan's Pier website calls it:

The Polido Social Club is a weekly hang out of sunset riverside explorations curated by a revolving cast of tropical taste makers. Polido is a term Portuguese folks use for polite, polished, sleek, and smooth ~ which is exactly the type of evening vibe the social club wants you to feel.

It was a very nice evening.  We sat on high chairs facing the marina on the Delaware River.  The sun was out for most of the time.  And there was a cool breeze coming off the river.  There was a speaker on the floor just below our chairs, so we could hear the music playing.  There was a pretty good crowed, but it wasn't crowded.  I drank a lemonade, Jeannie drank a cranberry juice mixed with lemonade, and we shared french fries with garlic aioli sauce.  Seva did a great job hanging out.  And we had a really good time as a family, along the Delaware River, just north of the Ben Franklin Bridge.

Tonight we had a big dinner.  We hosted my mom, Jeannie's dad, and our friends Katy and Andrew (and their 6 month-old daughter Grace).  I cooked chicken seasoned with Adobo, black beans with Goya Recaito sauce, and white rice in boiled chicken bouillon cubes.  I received good reviews all around.  Jeannie made some homemade lime fizz by squeezing lime juice into sparkling water and a teaspoon of turbinado sugar.  For an unplanned, impromptu get-together, I think we did a great job.

Rainy Day Blues

I don't have much to write about tonight.  I'm eating some Breyer's natural strawberry ice cream straight from the box.  It rained for most of the afternoon.  I guess it's just one of those days.  At least Rocky is curled up on the desk, next to the computer, keeping me company.  He's a reminder that despite the appearance or feeling of a proverbial bad day, the important things are still there with God's blessing, and those blessings should not be taken for granted if we can help it.  Still, with that being said, here's to hoping tomorrow is a better day.  Buenas noches, estimado lector.

Questions

So, what's your story?  What are your fears?  What are your biggest mistakes, or regrets?  If you had to offer me one piece of advice, what would it be?  If you could negotiate the conflict in Gaza, how would you do so?  Have you ever been outside of the country?  If so, when was the last time, and where did you go?  If you could go anywhere tomorrow, where would it be?  If you could talk to one person who has passed away, who would it be?  Do you pray to God?  Do you go to church?  Can you offer any book recommendations to me?  From what you know of me, either directly or by reading these posts, what do you believe has been my biggest mistake?  And what would be your advice for me to learn from it and overcome it?  Do you know anyone who hates another class of human beings?  Or in this day and age, it may be more proper to ask: do you know anyone who has spoken disdainfully on another class of human beings? poor people? white people? undocumented migrants? black people?  How do you deal with that person(s)?  Do you accept it, or have you asked the person(s) why she or he feels that way?  Do you care about me?  Do you love me?  If so, can you please say a prayer for me?  Would you like me to say a prayer for you?  Would you like me to succeed?  What do you believe is my best field for success?  I ask again, if you could advise me in any way, personally or professionally, what would you say?  If you worked in an environment with others who opposed you, either as an individual or for a category you belong to, would you continue to work there?  If you were somewhere -- a workplace, a party, a conference -- where you felt keenly that you didn't belong, would you leave? or would you stay?  Have you ever wondered why so many people, just in this country alone, disagree on so many things, even just the major public issues?  If everyone is right, then does that truly mean that everyone is wrong?  How would you rate the level of respect that exists in American society today?  How do you feel, deep down inside, about someone who has differing beliefs than you do?  If someone has committed an act that you disagree with, do you believe it gives you the right to talk down on them or look at them as less than a human being?  Do you name-call other people?  If so, would you be okay with others name-calling you? to your face, or behind your back?  Where are the real professionals, who speak and act with professionalism at all times, today?  Do you have children?  If not, would you like to have children some day?  Will you or do you raise your children to name-call others?  Will you or do you raise your children to judge others?  If you could offer one piece of advice -- of all the pieces of advice conceivably available -- to your children, what would it be?  Do you love others as you love yourself?  Do you love strangers as you love your family?  Do you love people of the opposite sex as you love those of your gender?  Did you read this far down?  If so, what's your story?

Seva's first time to the ocean

I wonder who's reading these posts?  I often wonder that, but today I'm putting it in writing.  Whoever you are, I hope that you're enjoying what you're reading.  I can't imagine that my life or my thoughts are that interesting to anyone besides me.  But then again, I think I would be interested to hear or read how others live their lives and the thoughts they have on a daily basis.  Each person's life is a journey and everyone has a story to tell.  So in that regard, I guess I shouldn't downplay what I share here.

With that brief preface, my dear reader, now that I've broken the fourth wall, let me tell you a little bit about my weekend.

Yesterday was Seva's first trip to the ocean.  Jeannie, Seva, and I drove to Brant Beach on Long Beach Island to visit my aunt Judith, uncle Ray, and cousin Marc.  Jess had gotten there a couple hours before we did.  Seva got some sand between her toes and Jeannie even held Seva up when a wave came up to shore to get Seva's feet wet.  Seva, in her usual demeanor, was very calm and observant of the whole scene.  Of my extended family members there, she seemed most intrigued by her great-aunt Judith, with whom she seemed to have a connection.  I guess the fact that aunt Judith was so interested in Seva probably helped too.

We hung out on the beach for a couple hours, from about 3:30pm to 5:30pm.  I got the ocean for a while, a good 20 to 30 minutes I'd say.  The weather was pristine: highs in the 80s, clear blue sky, occasional light breeze, and the icing on the cake was warm ocean water.  Once I dove under that first wave to get myself wet, the water was absolutely relaxing.  In my entire life, I've rarely experienced the Jersey Atlantic at that temperature.  It was a real blessing.

We all went inside for a dinner of burgers, hot dogs, and potato salad, along with a glass of Jersey Devil white wine, diluted a bit with some ice cubes and club soda (the wine was pretty sweet).  After dinner, I had a few pieces of diced cantaloupe as dessert.  And we told stories, some of them about my grandfather and some about my father.

My aunt Judith described my father's relationship with his father as "contentious."  She said that her father didn't really interact with her and aunt Susan, because they were girls, so her father actually had the closest relationship with Pito, although that wasn't necessarily saying much.  She said that her father was "critical" of others.  Cousin Marc gave the example that even I would have been criticized for having hair too long (right now, my hair is completely buzzed on the sides and I have less than an inch of hair on top, not even long enough to style).  I guessed that my grandfather's military background in the U.S. Navy played a part in that mentality.  Aunt Judith said that her father would just disagree to disagree: "if you said white, he'd say black."  One thing I learned was that my grandfather willingly chose to join the U.S. Navy during World War II.  Uncle Ray explained that having a family was an exemption to being enlisted, so my grandfather could have used that as a reason to stay home.  Aunt Judith said that, among her classmates in school, her father was the only one away in the military.  When I asked if my grandfather used the war as a way to "escape" life at home, aunt Judith said that was always her impression.  She said that she was raised by and large by her mother's parents (my great-grandparents), so that when her father returned from the war, he and even her mother were still merely "substitute parents."  I found that really interesting.  She concurred what I had heard that my grandfather acted like a drill sergeant by personally coaching my dad at the track directly across the street from their house in Englewood, pushing my dad to run faster, holding a stopwatch and timing the intervals.

We also heard the funny story, which my sister brought up, about my dad wanting to date a black girl in high school and my grandfather finding out and chasing my dad in circles in the yard outside the house.  I remember my dad telling me about this episode that he tried to reason with his father that he coached black kids on the track team, so it should be okay for his son to date a black girl.  It didn't matter to my grandfather.  Although they lived in a suburb of New York City, the fact remained that this was 1960s America.

Jess also brought up a story that was completely new to everyone at the table.  According to her, Pito baked pot brownies and gave them to his parents.  Uncle Ray laughed at the thought of my grandfather stoned, saying "I would've loved to have seen that."  I'll have to ask Pito if that story is true.

Cousin Marc told a story about how Pito had let him drive his car at the age of 12.  He said that they were all in Forked River (at my grandparents' house at 842 Wave Drive) and my dad asked Marc, then age 12 or so, if he wanted to drive.  Obviously Marc said yes, so without telling any of the other adults there, my dad took him out in his car.  Marc said that he first drove while my dad controlled the pedals, then they switched.  My dad told Marc not to tell anyone, but as soon as Marc walked in the door and someone asked him what he was doing, Marc said "Uncle Francis let me drive!" to which my grandmother dropped something in the sink and aunts Judith and Susan, who were sitting at the kitchen table, looked at him in shock.

Marc also told the story about the time that my dad picked him up at school in some kind of red convertible, with his mother (my aunt) in the passenger seat.  He said that all his classmates were in total disbelief, saying something to the effect of "whoa! that's your dad?!" since they knew Marc's mother and they just assumed that it must have been Marc's father in the driver seat.  Marc said that, growing up, he always wanted to grow up to be like Pito.  That's kind of funny for me to hear, being his son.  I can also see that my dad was clearly rebellious against his father.

Aunt Judith said that her father disagreed in some way with Pito's decision to go into the Peace Corps.  And it wasn't until my grandfather (and grandmother) visited Pito in Costa Rica and saw what he was doing there that he had any kind of respect for the decision.  I type this here almost verbatim from what aunt Judith said last night.

To step back from all these stories, I must state that it had been at least 15 years since I'd seen aunt Judith, uncle Ray, and cousin Marc.  As best as I could recall to Jeannie during our car ride there, I'm pretty certain that I last saw my paternal extended family at my cousin Stephen's wedding, when I was a sophomore (as best I can remember) in college.  Now that I had a chance to reconnect with them and especially after hearing stories of my dad, I realize that it's important to continue building my relationship with my dad.  I also think about the handful of people in my life that don't seem to like me (namely a few of my coworkers at PLA) and I realize that I need to stick with all the people who do seem to like me and care about me.  And between so many of my friends, plus the unconditional love of family, I see that I'm a very fortunate guy.  And that I don't need to let the prejudice of a handful of others get me down.

We drove home late last night.  We got home around 11pm.

This morning I did the welcome remarks and the first reading at mass at St. Charles Borromeo, which I had been scheduled to do for a few months back.  I felt embarrassed by the fact that I've missed Sunday mass for about the past month.  But I'm very thankful that I had this commitment this morning to urge me to finally go again.  As I have before, I got compliments from a few people afterwards that I did a good job, from Ms. Richardson, from Sandy, and from our friends Pete and Vanessa, who also attended (and who I didn't see until I returned to my seat next to Jeannie after the first reading).  It felt good to be back.  It really did.

Afterwards, Pete, Vanessa, Jeannie, Seva, and I went to brunch at Cafe Ynez.  I ate an omelette with orange juice.  It was good.  Although I started feeling a bit tired during brunch (especially my voice, which always seems to be one of the first indicators that I'm tired), it was nice to spend some time with friends, talking about marriages, buying a house, and traveling the world.

As if I didn't realize how tired I was, I later took a long nap on the couch in the afternoon.  Nothing like a summer Sunday afternoon nap!

Finally, to rejoin the theme of reconnecting, we drove to Cherry Hill this evening to meet my old friend Shay and his family for dinner at their house.  Shay cooked a whole bunch of stuff on the grill and we ate inside at the dining room table, while talking about all sorts of things.  I haven't seen Shay since probably around 2002 or so.  He looks a bit heavier and just a little bit older, but he really mostly looks the same.  When we first got there, his wife Eki took us on a tour of their backyard, where they have a couple chicken coops, a couple rabbit pens, three ducks walking freely, and fish pond, and various vegetable garden enclosures.  It was amazing to see their ingenuity in using their suburban backyard to provide for their family.  Shay even installed a couple solar panels on the main chicken coop.  It was impressive to see.  I really enjoyed seeing him and catching up with him.  As I told him before we left, I hope we can see each other again soon, certainly much sooner than 10 years from now.

All in all, it was a good weekend.  My only minor frustration is that I feel that I've spent such little quality one-on-one time with Jeannie; for the past week, she's been so tired or in such a business state-of-mind that it's either been not possible or not fun to hang out with her.  I'm only eight months into this journey called matrimony, but I knew these kinds of challenges, mostly brought on from external conditions, would inevitably come.  I will say this though: no matter what I'm very happy to be married.  Especially to Jeannie.  I very much prefer it to the alternatives, which I've lived through before.  So for everything -- from the weekend to life itself -- I thank God.  Now time for bed.....

I'm a Simple Man, used to Changes

I'm a minimalist.  I have one pair of shorts, one sweatshirt, one pair of jeans, one pair of athletic shorts.  Even as a kid, I didn't like shopping.  I remember abhorring back-to-school clothes shopping.  Now, as an adult, if I need something, I go to whatever store has it, go directly to where it is, get it, and get out as soon as I can.

It kinda goes hand-in-hand with me being so frugal.  I'm a saver, not a spender.  As alluded to above, I only spend money when it's necessary and I know specifically what I need.

The longest I ever lived in one place, one residence that is, was when I lived at the Double-Deuce & Spruce: from June 2003 through October 2011, a total of 8 years, 5 months.  As I wrote that (then took a few minutes, thinking out loud, to be sure of the dates), I said "wow!"  It's hard to believe that I lived there for that length of time.  The longest that I ever attended one school, one individual educational institution, was my 4 years of college.  And the longest that I've ever worked at one job, for one employer, for a consecutive stretch is my current one: since October 2009, thus for 4 years, 8 months until I went out on paternity leave to be with Seva.  Although I don't like changes (my friend Evan pointed that out to me years ago), I've had a lifetime of stages or periods until the next change came.  I guess that's at least partly why I was so impressed just now at the length of time I lived at the Double-Deuce & Spruce; nothing comes close.  Although I can agree with Evan that I don't particularly like change, I know that -- because I'm so accustomed to a new school or a new town or a new home or a new job every 2 or 3 years -- I have an internal clock which gets louder as that existential mile-marker is passed.  During that time, the scales slowly begin to tip away from complacency and antipathy towards change and they tip in the direction of shaking things up, doing something new, taking on a challenge, making a move.  Busy myself as I often do, once the down time comes, those internal whispers become ever more audible.  We have a magnet on our refrigerator which says, "when your heart speaks, take good notes."  So it's kinda like that, the voice that comes from my heart gets louder, until I have no choice but to take note.  And then the questions become: where to? what next?

I'm a Lawyer

I help my clients.  I meet them in-person.  I listen to them.  I ask questions.  I know how to ask the hard questions.  I advise my clients.  I know how to explain complex legal concepts in an understandable way.  I take notes.  Very detailed, well-written notes.  I know the statutes and most relevant case law.  I know how to do legal research, and do it quickly and well, if I need to confirm the state of relevant case law.  I'm an excellent legal writer.  I don't misspell words.  I know how to use punctuation.  I know how to apply facts to law.  In writing.  And at Court.  I'm confident of my ability to analyze legal issues.  Very confident.  Because I'm thorough.  I work hard.  I am intelligent.  Since I am confident, I'm not intimidated by other lawyers.  Not by women lawyers.  Not by men lawyers.  Not by lawyers from this law school or that law school.  Not by the big names.  I respect the judges.  But I'm not scared of them.  I'm confident.  So I can present my cases with confidence.  I'm good at making evidentiary objections, although I can get better.  I respond to my clients' communications, although I can get better at that too, especially if I have a lower client volume.  I care about my clients.  I develop a sincere relationship with my clients.  I help my clients achieve their legal objectives.  I'm good at what I do.  I present well.  I'm professional.  I treat all people with respect: clients, opposing parties, attorneys, court staff, judges.  Some lawyers calls clients names in their notes or among colleagues in private.  I don't.  Some lawyers call opposing parties names in their notes or among colleagues in private.  I don't.  Some lawyers speak disparagingly about other classes of lawyers or about certain demographics of clientele or even about individual lawyers or parties.  I don't.  I treat all people with respect.  To their face.  In my notes.  And in private.  There are some clients I don't completely like.  There are some opposing parties that I don't trust, or whose actions I do not condone.  There are some lawyers that I don't hold in high esteem, usually for their character as noted above.  But I don't name-call any of them.  Those who do so simply diminish themselves.  I'll continue to do my work.  Continue to be a good lawyer.  Continue to help people.  I win cases.  Did I mention?  I win.  And I win.  And I win.  Yes, I'm competitive.  I've won a lot of things in the past, before becoming a lawyer.  I win.  This is a competitive field of work.  This is a competitive world we live in.  Am I competitive?  Hell yes.  And I win.  Why?  I'm intelligent.  I work hard.  I know my shit.  I'm not scared of anyone.  I'm confident.  I win.  Have I made mistakes?  Certainly, let she who has not sinned throw the first stone.  Do my mistakes take away from the truth of everything above?  No, not one bit.  If there is one who hates me or is jealous of me, it is because they know the truth of everything above but have difficulty accepting it.  That one will try to shine a light on my mistakes, but by pointing the light on me she will have put herself in darkness.  And remember: "To measure you by your smallest deed is to reckon the power of ocean by the frailty of its foam.  To judge you by your failures is to cast blame upon the seasons for their inconstancy."  (Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet, p. 93).  I was a good lawyer before I went to law school.  Before I became a lawyer.  I have been a good lawyer.  I am a good lawyer.  I will continue to be a good lawyer.  I will help people and I will win cases.  You'll see.  Or you don't have to.  It's fine by me either way.  I am an excellent lawyer.

Proud to be a Two-Fifteener

I just saw on the ESPN ticker that college football begins August 28th.  I'm excited.  There's nothing like football.  College football on Saturdays, pro football on Sundays.  It reminds me that fall is on its way, my favorite season of the year.

Earlier today, I met Jeannie outside La Colombe across from City Hall, while she ate her lunch from Five Guys and I drank a coffee.  Despite the very light drizzle, I rode my bike to see her.  It was nice to spend some time with her while her dad watched Seva at home.

After dropping off Jeannie at her job, I walked over to 15th & Market Streets, where I sat down and waited for my friend Mike to come by.  I waited for about half an hour, but I didn't mind because I enjoyed people-watching and that, for once, I wasn't in any rush to go anywhere or do anything.  It felt really nice actually.

Finally, when I saw Mike walking towards me, I noticed that he was with [F.B.], another attorney who I've argued cases against and who I know Mike has become friendly with over the past year or so.  When [F.B.] came up to me he gave me a hug.  Despite our encounters in Court, we've always been friendly with each other.  It was probably also cool for him to see that Mike's friend was me.  [F.B.] suggested that we grab a drink, so we walked a couple blocks to Tir Na Nog.  We mainly talked about the practice of law and our families.  It was a good time.  Eventually [F.B.] had to leave to go back to his office, so it was really nice to have a chance to catch up, just a little bit, with Mike one-on-one.

Having had a couple beers, though, by the time I got back home I was just enough out of sorts that I didn't get much done.  I still hadn't eaten lunch, so I did that first: ham & American cheese on seeded rye with wasabi mayonnaise and a slice of pickle, along with popcorn, a banana, and an apple on the side.

Fast-forwarding to tonight, Jeannie made salads as usual and I cooked macaroni and cheese with tuna and peas, while we watched the movie American Reunion on FXX.  While sitting on the couch, Seva began yelling as she has the past few days, not in any kind of angry or demanding way, but instead as a flexing of her voice and lungs.  It's hilarious.  I have to admit that, once Seva gets started, Jeannie and I encourage it by yelling too.  We laugh the whole time.  It's really funny.

Finally, to conclude this post tonight, I'll offer a totally random thought: I would not for any amount of money or at any level of income live in New York City.  Just the thought of living there tires me.  It's just too much of some things (people, money, attitude) and not enough of others (living space, trees, open spaces, a sense of community).  I happily prefer being a Two-Fifteener: just enough city, just enough sense of community, with quick enough accessibility to open spaces within the city and then the suburbs beyond.

Reconnecting with Family

I just got off a half-hour Skype call with my cousins Carlos and Enrique; they could see me, but because their camera wasn't working I couldn't see them.  But it was great to hear both their voices and catch up with them.  Especially after what I wrote about Carlos just a few days ago.  It goes to show you (and me) that you can never assume anything and that communication is very important to dispel any incorrect assumptions.  I'm feeling pretty happy right now.

At the end of the call, I told them that I was going to get my daughter, but when I came back on screen I was holding up Rocky.  I asked them rhetorically if he looked like me; I got a good laugh from them on that one.  Then, a minute later, I actually brought Seva into the picture.  She had been crying in her crib upstairs (probably because she could hear my voice speaking loudly downstairs).  Although she calmed down for a minute, she started crying again (probably because she was tired at this late hour), so I had to end the call.  I told Carlos, though, that I hope to talk with him again soon.

We had a few good laughs during our conversation; it was really good.  Now that I'm writing about it, it makes me think for the first time that I'd like to go back to Costa Rica at some point.  I hadn't felt that way until now.

Sticking with the theme of reconnecting with family, Jess is going to visit our Aunt Judith and Uncle Ray in Long Beach Island this weekend.  A couple of our cousins may be there too.  Jess passed along Judith's invitation for Jeannie, Seva, and me to go.  And I think we just may take them up on the offer, which would be the first time I've seen the paternal side of my family in many years.

Finally, I just want to add a comment relating to a thought that I'd had earlier today, a thought that came back to me and was reconfirmed after my Skype call with my cousins: I have been much, much happier being away from [...].  It's now been about two months that I've been away.  I reflected and realized today that I'm turning a corner now where my mental and emotional health is finally healing.  I finally feel like my old self!  It's a great feeling.  And it's a sign that I'm heading in the right direction, towards good and away from a bad vibe.  I feel great and I'm thankful.

Weekend Recap

We had a great weekend, even though it didn't go according to plan.

Friday night we drove out to Media to visit our friends Katy, Andrew, Deb, and Antoine.  We had fun brainstorming over cheese, wine, and other snacks.  It was a productive night and I look forward to the next steps that will come from that meeting.  The only downside was Jeannie's prediction came true: we'd get home so late that we'd be tired and sleep in on Saturday, causing us to cancel or postpone our plans to take a road trip South.

As such, most of Saturday was a day of rest.  I can't even say that I remember what we did, except that we stayed in the house for most of the day.  If I recall correctly, I folded some laundry that had been in the dryer for a day or two, and I did some reading.  But then some time in the late afternoon, around 5pm I wanna say, I suggested to Jeannie that we take a walk.  She agreed, so we packed-up Seva and we headed out.  The weather was exceptionally cool for this time of year; I just heard that the high temperature yesterday was only 77 degrees.

Our first destination was the Wine & Spirits store on Market Street.  After taking our last bottle of red wine to Katy and Andrew's place, I thought we needed to restock.  We got three bottles: two bottles of malbec and one bottle of tempranillo from the Rioja region of Spain.  Right before we got there, though, I saw a couple of men standing in the middle of the sidewalk and looking at a map.  Once we were near them, I spoke up and asked them if they needed directions.  They asked in which direction was the river, to which I replied: "which one?  The Schuylkill is that way (pointing west down Market Street), and the Delaware is that way (pointing back east on Market)."  After chatting with them for a couple minutes while walking west, we found out that they were a couple guys from Australia, probably in their 50s, looking to head back to their hotel after they'd gotten a drink or two at a bar.  They said that they were in town for a combination of business and pleasure, and that they needed to get ready for dinner.  I was happy to have pointed them in the right direction.  Hopefully they enjoyed the rest of their time in the 215.

After getting our wine, we walked around somewhat aimlessly for a while, looking for a place to get a sweet snack.  I won't even go through the progression of places that we considered and/or actually went to.  I'll skip to the point that we finally decided to go to Miel, on 17th Street, where we each got a chocolate cube dessert, which we ate at a table on the sidewalk.  We noticed a lot of people wearing lanyards, indicating that they were very likely in town for some sort of convention.  I commented to Jeannie how so many people walk in public without making any eye contact at all with anyone else, as if everyone is scared to interact with a stranger.  While sitting there, I on the other hand looked at everyone who walked by; perhaps this was easier and less potentially intimidating to others since I had Seva standing with my assistance on my lap for most of the time.  Anyway, we had a nice time sitting there for a while, enjoying the cool, comfortable weather that I already mentioned.

Due in great part to that great weather, as well as a feeling (for myself at least) of being out of the house and enjoying it, I suggested to Jeannie that we continue our walk by getting burgers at 500 Degrees.  Jeannie agreed, so we walked over to the 1500 block of Sansom.  We each got a burger, and Jeannie got a side of truffle fries, which we split.  Again we sat at a table on the sidewalk.  After eating I went in to wash my greasy hands and when I came out, there was a guy sitting at another table next to ours.  He was asking Jeannie, then me, for advice on whether he could take a 19 year-old girl into Rumor.  I gave some advice to him as best as I could.  And we chatted for a few minutes.  He said he was from the Congo.  I asked him: "Kinshasa?" to which he said "no," so I immediately smiled and said, "Brazzaville?" to which he was very impressed.  He said that he was in Philadelphia for the first time, visiting for a short period to practice his English (which was pretty good, other than an accent).  He said that he was living in Paris, which was common practice for Africans who want to create a better resume for themselves and thus open up better job opportunities for when they return to the Congo.  At the end of our short talk, I gave him my personal business card.  I enjoyed our short, impromptu meeting.

On our walk home, we stopped through Rittenhouse Square, where we saw a gathering at the main entrance to the park, at the corner of 18th & Walnut Streets.  There we saw a recognizable Philly street singer singing to a small crowd.  We walked up to join everyone and listen in for a few songs.  At the end of one song, the singer announced to the crowd that, in addition to being a singer, he was also a psychic.  He approached a woman in the crowd and asked if her name was Patricia; she nodded yes.  She was standing next to her boyfriend.  Then, the singer began singing a happy song (which I didn't recognize, but Jeannie did).  I forget how they got there, but the girl and her boyfriend ended up listening to the song from a more prominent position in front of the singer.  Then, about halfway through the song, the boyfriend stepped away from the girl, reached his hand into his pocket, pulled out a ring, dropped to one knee and proposed to her.  The singer stopped singing, while the music kept going, but pretty low.  The girl indicated that she said yes and the crowd cheered!  In honor of the couple, the singer immediately began singing Etta James' famous song, "At Last."  It was a very touching and authentic moment.  I saw some women wiping tears away from their eyes.  It was great to be there to see and experience all that.

Shortly after getting home, Jeannie changed Seva's diaper.  I was downstairs.  Seva must have been revved up and excited, because as Jeannie was changing her, Jeannie was asking questions about our walk, to which Seva answered by just yelling pretty loudly for her little body.  It was hilarious.  After a couple minutes of this, I came upstairs to capture it on video, but I only caught the very tail-end of it.  It was funny, though, hearing Seva really test her lungs and assert herself.  Jeannie and I were both laughing.

Finally, Jeannie and I slept in this morning.  It was another cool day and another day of rest.  We watched the movie "Coach Carter" on tv.  Then later in the afternoon, while still sitting on the couch, while Jeannie was holding Seva, I started to play with Seva, mainly by rubbing my head into Seva's hands and her belly and chest.  Seva started laughing!  It was such a funny and beautiful moment.  We really had fun.  It was one of those moments where we were all together as a family and just enjoying being together.

So I guess you could say that, although the weekend didn't go exactly according to plan, it was a great weekend, and for that I thank God.

Leadership

Tonight I watched the second half of a rebroadcast of last year's Georgia at Auburn football game, ranked by ESPN as the #3 best college football game of 2013.  It got me thinking about college football, football in general, and also leadership.

I remembered my college football coach, Barry Streeter, who SUCKED as a football coach.  I have stated to others and I write unequivocally here that my high school football coach was superior to, better than, Coach Barry Streeter.  When I played for Coach Streeter, he ran the wing-T offense, consisting of three running backs and only one wide receiver.  He remained stubborn in this offensive set during a time when college football at the Division I level was opening up to a more pro-style offense, that is, more passing.  I remember that his inflexibility actually gave the opposing teams an advantage, because his playbook as head coach was the same year after year.  So opposing head coaches and defensive coordinators could just study film from previous years and coach their defense on how to defend a particular play based on the offensive formation and the action in the backfield.  This is common sense of course, something that Coach Streeter apparently lacks.

I just looked up Coach Streeter's overall record as head coach (see here).  In the past 16 seasons, he's had a winning record just 4 times.  Despite anyone who may want to call him a "legend" based on his long tenure, this record is anything but legendary; it's sub-par.

Now, let's contrast...

I just saw an article on philly.com, the headline of which was "Expect Kelly's Eagles to have new wrinkles in their offense."  The first sentence of the article reads: "Chip Kelly has said since Day 1 that offense is personnel-driven."  Then, just a couple lines later, Kelly is quoted as saying: "The biggest thing that you have to do is identify the skill-sets you have..."  I made this same point numerous times as a college football player to my positions coach under Coach Streeter.  Even as a student, I recognized that you don't plug players into a cookie-cutter system, which minimizes players' unique talents and makes your offense completely predictable.  And this is a principle of leadership that should apply to any team, organization, or company: you take the time to assess and understand your talent, then you put your team members in the best possible positions to exploit those individual talents with the objective to meet your team's goals.  It's not rocket science.

As author Warren Bennis wrote in his book "On Becoming a Leader": "The success or failure of all organizations . . . rests on the quality of their decision makers."  Again, refer back to Coach Streeter's overall record over the past 16 years; does that significant sample size reflect success or failure?  (As an important sidenote, Warren Bennis died two days ago (article here)).  There are certain traits of a leader, which include being active (as opposed to reactive), experimental (as opposed to rote), and flexible (as opposed to rigid); these are all cited by Bennis in On Becoming a Leader.  Whereas Coach Kelly exemplifies those positive leadership traits, Coach Streeter exemplifies the stagnant traits of a manager wearing a leader's mask.

I imagine that, at this point, at this late date, there is likely no way to get Coach Streeter to retire (or have him 'relieved of his duties').  If you're a high school player being recruited by, or considering playing for, Coach Streeter, my clear advice is: don't.

And for the vast majority of you who aren't being recruited by Coach Streeter, keep this leadership principle in mind when looking at your own career: spend as little time as possible in a workplace where management and supervisors are mediocre managers, rather than true leaders.  You'll get sucked in; your self-esteem may take a hit when you don't fit into the cookie-cutter mold; and you may start to question your skills or abilities.  If that happens, get the hell out of there!  Go somewhere to work for real leaders, people who will support you, encourage you, and positively challenge you, based upon an assessment and understanding of your individual skills.  Understand that good leaders make you better; bad leaders mostly waste your time, except to learn how not to be.

Free Gaza!

(Image Source)

All Philadelphia, pray for the liberation of Gaza!

I get the impression that Israel wants to wipe out Gaza.  Seeing Israel's reckless bombing of shelters, hospitals, schools, and mosques in Gaza, I get the impression that -- if the world stands by silently -- Israel will commit genocide, will commit holocaust!, in Gaza.

All Two-Fifteeners, pray for the liberation of Gaza!

I get the feeling that Israel wants to completely control everything within Gaza, the opposite of political freedom!  I get the feeling that Israel wants to step on Gaza's head, to forcefully keep Gaza at a subsistence standard of living, the opposite of economic freedom!  I thought that the United States was in favor of a world system of free market capitalism, right?  The United States has gone to war over such ideals.  Yet the United States sits by idly as Israel commits economic strangulation on the people of Gaza.

All Americans, pray for the liberation of Gaza!

Conflicts

It's amazing that there continues to be conflict all over the world.  It was like that when I was a little kid.  It's like that now.  Why should we believe that it's ever going to be any different?  Why is there conflict at all?  One answer is that we have free will.  Another is that, for all our similarities, we want to feel unique, so we play up our differences: nationalities, political parties, religions, skin color, et cetera.  By following our own human nature and playing up our differences, rivalries and tensions develop.  An 'us-versus-them' mentality develops.  So that's another answer to why there is perpetual conflict throughout the world.  Another answer is man's tendency toward sin and temptation: especially in the form of power (pride); this stems from man's natural insecurity, both materially as an animal that strives to survive at all costs, and emotionally as beings that compensate for internal insecurity by manifesting external power.

Another issue is that no relationship, nor anything at all for that matter, is static.  The universe is dynamic.  Your body and every person's body is dynamic.  People change and thus that makes the relationship between and among people dynamic.  I can think of easy examples in my own life right off the top of my head.  In fact, it's a theme that's been on my mind a lot lately.  I perceive that my relationship with my cousin Carlos isn't what it used to be or what it could be.  When I write a short note or message to him, his responses are either stock and pithy (the latest one was simply "gracias primo") or he simply uses an emoticon (usually a 'thumbs-up' icon) to acknowledge my note without having to engage in any substantive dialogue.  Assuming my perception is really accurate, I have no idea what's going on.  Is he jealous because I got married? and/or because I've become a father?  Did I slight him in some way the last time I was in Costa Rica?  I have no clue.  I suppose I can ask him what's going on.  That would be the mature, logical thing to do.  I think I may be afraid of the answer.  But then again, the cold hard truth should always be preferable to living under a hazy assumption, shouldn't it?

Next I think of my relationship with my friend Paul.  I still consider him to be my friend, though we're not as close as we used to be.  If you look back at previous posts here, around the 2008 time frame, Paul is a major player.  We spent a lot of time together.  We traveled together, to Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, to his parents' home in Tampa, Florida, and even to Costa Rica back in the day.  I had a close relationship in those days, the late 1990s through the entire decade of the 2000s.  I kept my mouth shut on certain things that concerned me, because I enjoyed my time with him.  We had fun together.  In a very real way, at a time when we were young adults, flexing our wings (if that's even a proper saying) and coming into our own, we were each other's family -- at a time when we needed to prove our individuality separate and apart from our own respective families.  But as time passed, and perhaps when I became more comfortable in my adulthood, or perhaps wasn't having as much fun spending time and traveling with him, or perhaps when I had met other friends and thus didn't feel like I needed or depended upon my friendship with him -- whatever the case was -- I felt that I needed to communicate with him my concerns about his beliefs as expressed in words: using the word "nigger" to pejoratively describe a dark-skinned American of African descent, then a couple years later using the word "dyke" to describe a female mayor of some northern New Jersey city, either Hoboken or Jersey City.  After each separate incident, I wrote a letter by hand and sent it to him, expressing my disapproval.  Was this the right approach?  I thought so.  I still think so.  But maybe not.  Should I have talked with him face-to-face?  My main takeaway, as I write this now, is that I shouldn't invest too much time in a friend with such negative, prejudiced, and outdated beliefs.  In short: surround yourself with good people.  But then I ask myself, who am I to judge him?  Be soft on the sinner, but not on the sin!  Did I practically give up a friendship for the foolish objective of proving a principle?

This tug of war between philosophical poles happens quite frequently in my head.  I think part of it is the guilt -- justified or not -- at having effectively ended a friendship.  I think the other part is a realization that life is not guaranteed to remain static, things will change, and this logically leads to a realization, whether explicit or implicit, that life will eventually end: after all these changes and changes, death shall come.

I've written previously that a break-up from a girlfriend is very analogous to these existential realizations.  The relationship died.  It's as if the ex-girlfriend is dead, although we know damn well that she's alive somewhere, probably with some other guy already.  A break-up is a foreboding of death.  It's a terrible feeling...to be reminded of one's own mortality.  And yet we're reminded of it all the time, whether looking outwardly at all the conflict in the world, the people, the children!, being killed in war, or whether looking inwardly to our own failed relationships.  What's the answer?  I can't say I know, other than to keep on living, find something to believe in, put one's gifts and talents to the best use possible to be productive and self-fulfilling, and be with (or be open to be with) someone you love and who loves you.