No Tequila Since March, No Meat Since August

Around my birthday this past March, my good bud and brother, Matty Matura, was kind enough to select a spirit (Patron) for our friends and I to sip upon to celebrate the occasion. My longstanding relationship (questioning that word choice) with Patron is well documented, from the time I drank a glass of it last summer and the moment of silence that followed...

Matty: "You were fine and all, but I've never heard you be that quiet for that long after you took that shot." 

... to the time I got to work on the agave based libation following a Christmas-time shift at Stop & Shop and wound up overrunning Wong's stairs a bit and after likely a very dramatic-looking couple of balance maintaining flails wiped out flat on my back in front of the entire (modest) party in attendance. That last one, I assure you, sounds worse than it was, as I popped right back up after fending off my own fit of laughter. However, obviously tequila was at the root of the minor mishap. 

Anyway, Wong's actions the night before my birthday ensured that no one was in a mood to christen the gift that night. Since that point, the occasion to open the bottle hasn't really come about. I drink pretty moderately, to say the least, and as you likely know, when you opt for tequila over more... modest... drinks you're kind of making a commitment to the night that you're not always up for backing up, so to speak. As I headed to York College for my first post grad Alumni Weekend experience, I figured it may well have been time to at last pop the cork on that bottle of Patron. Alas, or fortunately depending on your perception, the Patron still remains unopened atop my dresser. However, another notable streak did come to an end this past weekend, and with that somewhat coarse interlude, I recount my York experience.

Just in the general sense, because I don't think I'll necessarily get back to it once I start zooming in. Always a great time to be in York and especially at YCP. The Alumni weekend brought back some familiar faces and I also got to see some friends who've yet to leave. Feels like a home away from home and brings up some of the best memories of my life. Really blessed to have known and, as this weekend proved, still know such good people. I'm gushing, I know, about a pretty dangerous area once you get beyond George, I know, but it's just a special place.

With that brief bit of blathering behind and alliteration ahead, I actually didn't have to wait long, or even ask, to relive some collegiate memories. York's current and my former a cappella group, Rhapsody, found themselves somewhat divided between the obligations of the school's musical, "She Loves Me," and a performance at the annual Relay for Life. When a couple members heard that I was heading to York that same day, they reached out to see if I could help them out and sing with them at the Relay for Life. It's a bit of a stretch to say they "needed" me and by no means am I under that impression, but I know that they were grateful to have the extra tenor/bass with knowledge of the catalog close at hand and, from my perspective, by no means was it an inconvenience to sing with them. I found myself rusty, to say the least, jumping the gun on a "Buttercup" entrance. (The one song each Rhapsody member should be able to treat like riding a bike.) Learned a song on the fly and handled it pretty well, and despite the group being in about three different keys during "Africa", blew the dust off that high harmony pretty impressively if I do say so myself. (I assure you that's the extent of my self-exultation.) The group did throw in some dub-step inspired changes to "Crazy" that pretty much hit me like a ton of bricks mid-show, but I still got to throw in my "HA-HA-HAs" so all was well that ended well.

I will say, I wish I had left to arrive in York a bit earlier in the day. I made great time traffic-wise and with about a half hour to spare before a pretty casual (especially for me) call time. With that said, I did want to make sure I got into York early to square away a couple of errands. My trip was, by my standards, pretty last minute, so I wanted to make sure to confirm with some various hanging and indeed sleeping arrangements. Basically, check in with the few cats banking on my arrival. I also wanted to make sure to drop off some "Horseplay" related material to Professor Mott before the hurricane of a weekend swept me away. Specifics of "Horseplay" are for a different post all together, if at all, as I feel that's the only bit of my writing that I get a little repetitive with, so mum's the word for now.

I'm sure most could relate that after spending enough time in a car, especially driving, you kind of zone out a bit mentally and suffer from something I would call "drive lag" after you get out, where you're physically out of the car, but not so much mentally. I was definitely suffering from this ailment, as nonexistent as it my be medically, but I thought little of it as I bounded towards Wolf Hall, prepped to drop off my script and such and just kind of rest up for a bit. Lo and and behold, though, two of the four people on main campus at the time were my good friends Justin Rivera and Renee. Obviously sounds like it was a negative to see them; nothing could be further from the truth. I just felt bad because I met their enthusiasm and embraces without really being able to string words together cleanly. A pleasure to see them both, I just kind of socially wasn't ready for it. Pretty laughable in hindsight. Got to clear the air a bit later that weekend, but I don't doubt I looked like a deer in the headlights and sounded Ozzy Osbourne with a New York accent for a bit there.

After the Rhapsody "gig" I got the chance to see "She Loves Me". Great all around. Always cool to see friends and other performers in their element. Some real talent on the stage and I'm sometimes in awe that these people are in my life.

*That last bit is a little syrupy, even for me, and I don't mean to be all that sentimental about it, but the bottom line is that I'm friends with some talented people, and that's, like, really cool. I definitely think the above has over romanticized my thoughts a bit. It's not like a weep openly every time Jay strums a guitar chord, Steve harmonizes to the radio, Joe Mayes lays out a sick bass vocal solo, Allison draws a picture, and Sean Taylor and Grebe talk about something financial that I succeed in following for about five minutes.  Essentially, I just don't want to take for granted the talent and skills of the people around me. It's a proud to be among them kind of thing.

After the show I met up with Steve, Doug, Angela, and many others and really got the alumni festivities started. The blow by blow there would bore you, but I was getting as much of a kick out of catching up with just casual familiar faces as I was old friends. What I mean to say is, it was cool to run into people I wouldn't consider buds of mine and just kind of saying "Hey, you're that person I used to see all over campus, but never said two words to... You noticed me? I noticed you, too!... How's it going?....Cool, have a nice life and/or see you next year!" Really interesting vibe on top of catching up with dear friends. More to the night than that, including catching up with the newly-svelte DeJesus and Dunn, Rita driving over to say hello, and finding out Kyle Minogue is living in our old Jackson house, but tough to put all that in a sensical and concise paragraph. Great times.

As if the weekend weren't already ripe with memories, Saturday morning saw the beginning of a story-ful day as Melissa, Doug, Rita, Steve and I went to grab some breakfast. Now, as you'd expect, a great deal of reminicing was occurring and, not surprisingly, Jamin's wedding came up. I, thinking with my stomach as I often do, casually brought up that the chicken fingers at their wedding were genuinely some of the best I've had in my life. Obviously they paled in comparison to the bride and groom, sanctity of the day, etc. etc., but it would a total lie if I said the chicken wasn't one of the top five memories of that day for me. Moose, if you're reading this, love you guys.

Steve then said something to the effect of "Oh, I wouldn't know, I was eating broccoli the whole time. I asked why and Steve replied, "I haven't eaten meat since August." Here's where it gets interesting.

Up until that point, the conversation had been very jovial, light and, dare I say, bubbly. Steve's meat claim was by no means rude, pointed, or condescending at all, but it was said very seriously and matter-of-factly. It ran in contrast to the rest of the table talk and was therefore very punctuated. That morning, Steve ordered a "Western Omelette"  that the menu clearly stated had ham in it. As I looked down at the omelette  now half eaten, I noticed these pretty large pink chunks of ham in it that couldn't be mistaken for onions if you squinted. At that point became so confused I felt as though I was listening to Sean Taylor and Grebe talk about financial stats. Can't emphasize enough how overwhelmed and lost I was in that moment. Steve was flagrantly eating meat and I found it impossible to believe he wasn't aware of it.
Surely he read it on the menu.
Surely he sees the giant pink chunks in his breakfast.
Surely he at the very least tastes the ham as he's chewing it.

Surely he sees the door coming up. (Last one not relevant)

I really thought Steve was just kind of making a joke that I didn't quite get. A feeling to which I can certainly relate and sympathize. My brain was left with a "fight or flight" moment to gently call him out and get to the bottom of the statement, or ignore the statement entirely and keep eating. I opted for the latter and Steve and I both resumed eating. About three minutes later, Steve realized that he'd accidentally soiled his voluntary vegetarian lifestyle and was no longer meat free since August. He was pretty floored and the table was similarly flumouxed by how he got three-quarters through a ham-filled omelette. I think that cloud of confusion was the only that kept me from busting up at the situation. Not trying to be too hard on Steve. Lord knows he's seen me be pretty boneheaded. I think moments like that just serve to remind us both how important we are to each other. Tomorrow is a new day and the start of a new streak. I will say, ten years from now, when you ask me to describe my first alumni weekend, this will be likely the one story I remember off the top of my head. Truly a golden moment.

After breakfast, I wanted to make sure to set aside a good chunk of my day to basketball. I turned down a couple of plans specifically to make sure I had plenty of time to get a good run in with all the students and what have you. The Grumbacher has never really had the reputation for being too packed on a weekend day, but for some reason I thought alumni weekend would be the exception to that rule. Unfortunately, I found that some things never change as I wound up shooting around... a lot... and eventually playing some "21" equivalent that took forever to finish, and finally some twos with Le Von (no disrespect, not sure if that's how he spells it) and a couple of his friends. That was a lot of fun and certainly better than nothing. They were good dudes. On a personal note, my chest was incredibly tight from a Thursday workout. I think the day in the car on Friday didn't let me properly stretch it out and bottom line my chest was tight as a snare drum on Saturday and my first few shots were about three feet short. I held my own, though, to say the least, and actually wound up winning I think all but one game I played, but I didn't really loosen up until it was about time to go. Couldn't help but think if I was shooting this well feeling awful, how well I could have played if I were feeling up to snuff. Oh well, just pick up games anyway and a little petulant on my part, but in the interest of full candor, it was nagging on my mind.

The guys I played with happened to be black and my good friend and Grumbacher mainstay, Rachel, happened to see some of the game. Later on that night, I met up with Rachel at the bar and as Le Von passed by he was nice enough to mention how cool it was to play with me etc. Rachel and he then proceeded to talk about how this skinny white dude walked into the gym and pretty much showed them up. They were both exaggerating a bit (not that skinny) about how I showed them up. I played well, but didn't dominate or anything. Anyway, my point being, I was called "skinny" and "white" about 15 times in 30 seconds, but it was hard to be offended because they were being so complementary. Good laughs there great to see both Rachel and Le Von again.

Prior to the bar, I went on a bit of a bar crawl with Dunn and Big Phil. Great time and featured some great live music at the White Rose. Could be in my head, but York College seems much more open to planning things with a pretty buzzing surrounding community than they were when I was a student. That bodes well for those businesses and the college crowd and enrollment if that teamwork continues. In a couple years, hopefully there will be more of a weekend crowd to  play ball with indirectly is what I'm saying.

Hard to segue into this, so I'm just going to have to apologize for the short tangent. I think due to the West Coast schedule and my lack of a smart phone, I gave about five people inaccurate Orioles scores and stats. I was seeing highlights from the night before and thinking the game was live. It was really a mess. My bad on that. Idiot move. Steve should have fun with that one.

Great to be back at YCP with such great friends. I look forward to my next visit.

Song of the Day: "I Should Go"- Good Old War

Jazz Song of the Day: "Whither Must I Wander"-Dave Douglas

The Ruggedly Refined

I wanted to take a post to honor the life of Professor James Valiant and extend my sympathies and condolences to his family and friends, as well as my York College peers who share grief in his passing.

Professor Valiant was indeed one of a kind. I'll never forget seeing him for the first time during my freshman year Opera Theatre workshop and considering him pretty imposing. A straight-postured bearded man who entered stealthily from stage right of Wolf Hall, smiled without showing any teeth and nodded slightly upon being introduced, and largely never said a word unless spoken to. When he did speak, I was a bit taken aback by how truly soft spoken he was. Having spent a great deal of my social/academic hours (especially at that point in my life) amongst music and theatre enthusiasts, a social circle which at times, no offense, seemed to center around competitions for attention and as a result, was anything but quiet and conservative, Professor Valiant seemed to clash with that perhaps unwarranted generalization. However, his demeanor was not that of a timid man, but of a confident and self-assured one. His reserved demeanor did nothing but add more weight to the thoughts and opinions he did express.

Professor Valiant was anything but an overly serious man as well. He was, as you would expect, a very clever guy, who every now and again would catch you off guard with a little pun or observation of some sort that would (at least in my case) send you into a fit of laughter. I think his wordplays were more situational than anything else and would be tough to relay via this blog, but I will share one time when I walked in on a conversation he was having with other students regarding his weekend and he said something to the effect of "one of my friends got married and I'm still trying to piece together the weekend. Yesterday I wasn't exactly up for the piano." His polite way of saying that he got totally smashed on Saturday was incredible and made him all the more relatable to his students. Not the drinking aspect, obviously, but his openness and willingness to share of himself. I feel like this is almost cliche to say about the deceased, but Professor Valiant was a man who truly seemed to have a joy for life and the wisdom to know when to work hard and when to sit back and enjoy it a bit.

His talent leaves me at a loss for words as a painist, vocalist, and overall performer. His turn as Elijah in the oratorio by the same name was moving to say the least, and his abilities as a pianist and organist were incredible to see and hear. The thing I believe I'll remember most about Professor Valiant is his willingness to teach and share with anyone who would care to learn.

To be fair, Doctors Woodfield and Muzzo were also beyond generous with their time and efforts with me as a musician and I'm left in awe of the fact that they continue to bring that passion for teaching and improvement to York College with them everyday, but as a non-music major with quite simply a passion for music, I always kind of considered my advancement in music kind of secondary to those within the major. That's not to say that I didn't bust my hump in my musical endeavors and milk all the knowledge I could out of these great professors during class time, but I kind of figured that the out of class time would be reserved for those paying for the music space and trying to make a future living out of it. When professor Valiant complimented my voice freshman year and asked if I wanted to work with him on some things, I quickly said I was a writing major, essentially giving him cause to help out someone else. He aptly replied, "so what?" and we went to work later on that week and a couple more times over the course of my time at York as performances with Rhapsody and otherwise came up. His desire to go above and beyond to help me made me want to go above and beyond and meet his (again Muzzo and Woodfield included) expectations. That kind of attitude is contagious and was everything you could want out an instructor and to a degree, mentor.

Professor Valiant's personality was so unique that Dennis and I took to forming a scale of ruggedness with his name at the top. Other notable names on the list he beat out were Kimbo Slice, Grimace, Popeye the Sailor Man, and the inscrutable Chuck Norris. When we told him about this list, he laughed heartily and gave the same humble nod I'd seen on the first day I'd met him.

In short, I know of few others as classy, talented, and professional as Mr. James Valiant and his impact on my life, as brief as our interaction was, will never be forgotten. In truth, I considered Professor Valiant a role model, which I feel are harder to find at 21 after you've found your own opinions and voice in the world, but I think that's just further testimony for the quality of Mr. Valiant's character. His passion for life, sense of humor, open heart, and ability to leave the stage on the stage and be a listener off of it are qualities I try to live by every day. Professor Valiant personified, in my opinion, how a man should conduct himself and I'm honored to have known him and grieve with the rest of my classmates and peers.

Song of the Day: God Bless The Child-Blood Sweat and Tears
Jazz Song of the Day: Spanish Fantasy Part III-Chick Corea

Weren't You Saying Something About A Google Doc?

This past weekend brought me back to one of my favorite institutes of higher learning. A land where students are always smiling, the sun is rarely shining, and there's always a fresh supply of soap in the fountain; York College of Pennsylvania. YCP's a capella group, Rhapsody, where I used to hum my share of jingles, was having its winter concert and it was awesome to see the group perform from the audience for the first time since my first semester at York. I'll definitely get back to the show and whatnot, but I figure I'll start at the beginning of the weekend and work my way up to the concert.

As with any story worth recanting, it all began on the train rumbling towards Penn Station. I sat across from a young mother and her admittedly rather adorable daughter. She kept staring and smiling over at me, accidentally kicking me in the knee, and wanting me to play with her stuffed whale of some sort. Her daughter kind of kept to herself.

Just kidding, it was the daughter who was doing these sort of things and as a result I got to talking with them a little bit, which always helps the time go by a little quicker. Plus, what kind of 22-year-old man isn't secretly dying for an excuse to play with stuffed animals? No one I'd care to meet.

I made the transfer to the Lancaster-bound Amtrak at Penn and found myself sitting behind a group of about six Amish women. I was a little surprised at how loud they were throughout the train ride. I mean, I know it's not like they're nuns or under a vow of silence or anything, so it's not like my jaw was on the floor or anything, but I guess with their conservative dress code and semi-isolated lifestyle I kind of expected their demeanor to be as reserved as their clothing. While they weren't obnoxious by any means, they were anything but reserved and sounded like a bunch of gossiping women trading German/Dutch-accented stories. At one point I heard one of the women call another a "hot dog". The turn of phrase in combination with the thick accent made it quite chuckle worthy and fortunately I was far enough away that I wasn't exposed as an eavesdropper.

Their yakking continued well up until we were leaving the train and even as I met Dennis and Dunn in the train station lobby and the Amish ladies left behind, I commented to them both that they were pretty darn boisterous. Dunn, in his all-too-wise monotone replied, "we noticed." Dunn has this relaxed way of speaking sometimes that is really quite intriguing. He can say something with next to no emotion and still make you feel like he's in tune with something larger than the conversation at hand.

Not to jump ahead in the story too much, but when I returned to Dennis' house on Saturday night, I was about ready to pass out when Theo burst into the room with a hubcap in his hand. Such a suspicious, yet almost expected, sight was the perfect note to hit the sack on and after recounting the uncanny vision to a few through text, I passed out. The next morning, the boys noticed that one of the screens to their doors were knocked out. After spending a minute debating how it could have happened, Dunn spoke up and said, "I know Theo was looking to get...reckless." The whole room kind of got quiet and nodded. No one said anything more about it. That, my friends, is the power of Ryan Dunn.

Anyway, Friday stayed pretty mellow. You could tell it was my second time back because it felt more like truly being back at York. There was no real mad dash to see this person or catch up with another, especially with the Rhapsody concert all but guaranteeing I'd see most everyone at some point. I was able to grab a leisurely bite at a diner with Gloves, Dunn, and Sarah and then casually bounce back to what I'll call "The Beatles House" simply because listing everyone's names would take a while. Brett and I wasted little time jumping into NBA talk, Ben and I about headphones and matters of the heart, and Amber and I snide insults combined with truly supportive words of candor and kindness. A style of rhetoric I feel only a select few can pull off. I talked jazz with this cat I had just met, Will, and got to know this cat Dan Street who seemed like a solid dude. He seemed to really enjoy the style in which I spoke and suggested I get into radio, writing, or some sort of self-help field. Let's face it, statements like that are a good way to make a quick friend out of me.

Later on, a few of us slid down to the bar where I was THRILLED to unexpectedly run into my old freshman dorm-mate, Brendan. Definitely a highlight of the trip. Glad to hear he's about done and faring well. Ran the pool table with Joe Mayes while Jackie and Zach provided some on-point commentary. Not to make their jobs seem too easy, but pretty much all of the games went as follows: Poli gets off to a hot start, pocketing about four balls in a row and inexplicably goes quite cold leaving Joe to clean up his mess. After the pool run I caught up with some surprise faces, hit the dance floor for a spell and headed for my designated couch at Dennis' digs.

On Saturday I saw some of the same faces as Zappy was kind enough to extend the invite for me to check out his new domicile of Springetsbury (spelling?). Great spot. Nice to meet his family and housemate, John, who let me rub his snake. Take from that what you will.

With that it was concert time. I grabbed a row with the Czar, dear Sharnell, and the Sultan of Seeds himself, Greg Sullivan. The theme this semester was "Stereotypes" a theme I tossed out via text very much in jest many months ago. Imagine my shock when the theme was actually selected after it taking four years to win the majority over on the power of large hats. At first mention, I considered Stereotypes a pretty dangerous theme, but it was really quite tame, mercifully. With a few favorites of mine being Luke's "Villain" and Justin Rivera's "Redneck". The concert really FLEW by. I mean, I don't know if that's because there were less songs being sung, if there wasn't some blowhard president talking between songs, or if it just goes that quickly from an audience member's perspective. I was really floored at the quality of the tunes and everyone except Jaci did wonderful. I really couldn't pick a favorite if I wanted to, there was so much talent on the stage. However, I will give one quick acknowledgement to Doug Feeney for his work on "Bring Me To Life" I know from experience with that solo that's it's really fun the first couple of times you do it and then kind of a pain in the butt to muster such anger-fueled intensity time and time again. He did great work. As did the rest of the group. If I spent the time complimenting every little thing I liked, you'd be reading all day, so I'll spare you.

Just before intermission of the show, I was speaking with Sharnell and Amber about how in my time in Rhapsody, I really only remember one person keeping the money they won from the 50/50 money. I mentioned that I wanted to give the raffle a shot, but if I did win I'd have a REALLY hard time giving up the money so selflessly. I didn't want to be "that guy" especially "former member that guy" if that makes any sense, yet I eventually decided to just go for it and I bought a single a ticket while those ahead of me and behind bought bunches of five and ten tickets. Naturally, I was under the impression that my internal debate over my mini-morality crisis would be all for naught anyway. Nonetheless, me being me, I talked a big game and asked Sharnell if she wanted to see the winning ticket. She played along as only she could and we had a good time with it, wishing Amber weren't sitting in between us. As the ticket was about to be called, the gravity of the situation set in and I mentioned to Amber to brace herself if I won this. Either she or Sharnell then said, "just don't hit anybody." I laughed and almost missed the beginning of the number. Jaci appeared to call the numbers in slow motion as it was one of the few moments where you caught a glimpse of the uniformity of the universe and how you are but a section of a fingernail of the cosmos. Every now and again you get a cognisant glimpse of the universal being and this was one of those times as the final number was called and I realized I had won the drawing.

In hindsight, it's not like a did cartwheels or anything, but I got a little too excited about 34 dollars, but I just think winning a raffle can be cooler than the prize itself. In one of my less philanthropic moments, I took the money and a cookie from Renee. Carly was kind enough to mention my name to the crowd and they, in addition to the group on stage, gave me a nice ovation to return to my seat to. It was moving. Not like a tears well up kind of moving, mind you, but it was a warming moment.

After the show, I walked back to Brett's house with Amber and we started warming up for the Rhapsody communion. I implored Ben Scott to inject our ears with the Talking Heads and he obliged, much to everyone's (I hope) delight. Doug seemed especially excited for the music choice and after talking with him about the group for a bit, I encouraged him to "get involved" with more of their tunes. Apparently my budding buzz was causing me to channel my inner Thomas Wolfe. Doug seemed to dig the phrase and I, obviously, didn't care one way or the other.

On the walk over to the Rhapsody party, Amber warned me that at some point "Ants Marching" would have to be sung. I kind of expected as much and was neither looking forward to nor dreading the experience. I think overall I was excited at the prospect. Singing with Rhapsody in any context is always super fun, but I did expect to at least ease into the part first. I'm literally in the party for no more than 40 seconds when all of the sudden Amber and Carly are grabbing my arms and pulling me over to the group. Apparently it was showtime and a good time at that. Great to meet new members and catch up with my friends. Isolated stories from the night, but nothing worth troubling you about. On my way out, I signed Justin Rivera's face which, surprisingly, given how often the opportunity came up over the year we spent together, was a first. I feel bad about it, but I wanted him to know I cared. In a twisted way, mission accomplished. Back to Dennis', enter reckless Theo, and you're all caught up.

The next day, Amber was kind enough to have me in tow for her work commute to Harrisburg, dropping me at the station. Even though we left before the sun had risen, I can honestly say that commutes with the Czar are always memorable as even when the sun is down she finds a way to light up a room, or in this case, a vehicle. Okay that's a lie, Amber tends to be more of a cloud than a sunbeam, but nonetheless it was a great time hitting the road with her vibing about this and that. Now, maybe this was the sleep deprivation setting in, but in her cup holder, Amber had this charmingly small orange juice container and I couldn't get enough of it. It was the kind of carton that you give to like a five-year-old for lunch time complete was attached straw (not on that one, but typically.) For some reason, I was smitten with it. Now I realize that most of you (including Amber should she read this) are thinking to yourself, "Good Lord, Poli, it's just a damn juice box. Do you have to be so weird about everything you observe?" To an extent you're right and I apologize, but like I said, I was running on very little sleep and something about the image of Amber sitting in the faculty lounge sipping on her little straw really tickled a chord with me.

After I basically saved our lived by pointing out a "one way" street sign, we got to the train station without much incident and I headed inside after saying goodbye and thanks. I was Philly-bound to visit the Kernel Denny Basens and boarded out of the 'burg. Regrettably no sign of any hot dog Amish, but there was one thing of note that took place on the train.

I boarded the train with my jacket on. This other cat, who was wearing an Easter-yellow (if that's a color) polo with blue jeans and sneakers. He decided to sit next to me. Now, on the surface of things, there's nothing about that which seems peculiar in any way. Except, dear friends, I was wearing the exact same outfit underneath my jacket and that train was heating up quick.

Even now some of you are wondering what the big deal is and five years ago I would be amongst you wondering what the big deal was. However, that all changed one brisk autumn evening of my freshman year of college when Steve Murillo and I went to pick up a pizza. Steve and I both had the same York sweatshirt and happened to be wearing them at the same time when we were going to pick up the pie. He said that one of us should probably change. I was semi in a rush and didn't see what the big deal was and despite his appeals to reason, I stubbornly said not to worry about it and he relented and we left. Together. Matching. Walking down Jackson.

Not since my junior year of high school when I said the Chicago White Sox would win 2 of the next 5 World Series have I eaten my words so thoroughly. We were greeted with many an "aww" from girls and some jibes of varying friendliness from dudes. The whole time Steve was justifiably saying that he told me this would happen and we had to walk back to the dorm separately to avoid the same treatment on the return trip. I can't remember misreading a social situation worse than that in my entire life and to this day I apologize to Steve for a moment of embarrassment that was 110 percent all my fault.

Well anyway, back on the train I know the moment of truth is coming as this train car is really getting warm. Finally, I cave and take off my coat and there we sit, next to each other. Matching to the T. Fortunately the world doesn't implode, but lo and behold, after about five minutes this guy takes out a grey sweatshirt and puts it on. I know in my heart that wasn't coincidence and I wanted to say something like "I'm sorry it got too hot" but I never quite had the guts. In our hearts, we knew.

Spending time with Denny and his family was a good time. We spent most of the time playing basketball and catching up with our very particular brand of humor. The Basenses were very kind and his mother shared my passion for brushing our teeth frequently throughout the day. It was nice to meet a kindred spirit of dental hygiene. I also got to know Denny's new nephew, Devon, spending most of his day nibbling away on his own fingers. I gave him what advice I could about life and basketball and his big ol' eyes seemed to be very appreciative. Great time with Denny and in York. Thanks to all who made it special.

Song of the Day: Flower In The Sun-Janis Joplin

Jazz Song of the Day: I've Got My Love To Keep Me Warm-Billie Holiday

With All The Songs To Sing When We At Last Return Again

With this blog, and I guess any personal online periodical, there's always an imaginary line drawn between the personal life you share and the personal life you don't. Three days ago, my grandfather died and that accounts for my lack of posts on any "Poli" (trademark pending) platform in a good while. Please don't be offended or taken aback if I never told you. I didn't really tell anyone unless they asked why I couldn't hang out. I didn't really want to bring other people down and I doubt very much that in the mysterious hereafter my grandfather suddenly had the desire to be technology savvy enough to consult my facebook to confirm I was missing the heck out of him, so I played the whole situation pretty close to my chest for better or worse. With that said, those of you that did hear about his passing, I thank you for your well wishes and support through the time.

So, I feel like talking about the ins and outs of the situation and various ceremonies would be emotionally taxing on both of us, but I did want to take a blog post to recount a couple memories and pay tribute to him in my own way. However, I also want to keep these posts in a somewhat chronological order. The bottom line is, with respect to my grandfather, I'm going to write this post as if nothing has happened. I wanted to preface the piece in this way just so it didn't look like I was ignoring the situation completely. Look for a post in the near future regarding his passing and until then, enjoy this one.


This past weekend I had the awesome opportunity to revisit my collegiate stomping grounds (I say that like I'm 50, but it's only been 5 months.) of York College. Armed with an Arizona green tea, judged by "Where Did You Get That Corn?" to be the greatest American deal since the Louisiana Purchase, I made the great sojourn with the Sachers (sanz Zach) who were off to visit Rosalie, who's just getting acquainted with the space I've come to love and call home for the past four years.

I respect the hell out of the way the Sachers run a road trip. They equip themselves with a variety of snacks and various libations and settle in for the long haul. Everyone was able to reign in their fluids until we were just outside of Harrisburg (a camel-like skill I inherit from my father) and we actually stopped at the same rest stop at which I lost my headphones sophomore year of school. They weren't there anymore.

Anyway, we made great time and talking with the Sachers is always a great experience. They needed some help bringing some random freshman essentials i.e. soup, ramen, and soda, up to Rosalie's room so I had the chance to take a look at York's new dorms. They might as well be a hotel. Don't get me wrong, I had the time of my life freshman year, but living in Laurel Hall was equivalent to setting up camp in a concrete box with plumbing. It had a couple of windows through which one could easily whisper "suck a cock" in the anonymity of the night. (It was one time.) The domicile was pretty basic. These new dorms are anything but.

Carpeted hallways, elevators, no distinct odor of bodily waste, common areas with cushy chairs and microwaves for community use, hand sanitizer, caviar serving butlers with quaint non-oppressive British accents... okay, that's a stretch, but the digs were unreal. The rooms themselves are pretty basic, and the bathrooms won't stay spotless for long, I have to admit, but still...

I wasn't, by any stretch of the imagination, expecting my return to be emotional or anything. Like I said, it has only been 5 months, but I was shocked at how normal it felt to be there at first. It didn't feel like a visit, is what I'm saying, it just kind of felt like my summer was a little longer than everybody else's. I took the 10:30am walk over to Dennis' house, the confines of the 7-2-7 being kind enough to house me, and was reminded that on a Saturday in York College "morning" does not begin until noon. I found not a creature was stirring at the place until I roused Dunn from his slumber and he opened the door. Dennis was cajoled out of his nest a short time later and joined us. Having seen Dennis a couple of weeks ago, we didn't have all too much to catch up on, so I hopped over to Ben and Jake's to find Ben Scott hard at work cleaning up after what at the time could be presumed to be a homicide. Fearing for my well being, I agreed with everything Ben Scott said occurred. As much as I could make out, the story went like this:

Jake felt as though Ben's freshly made sandwich looked a little dry for his liking and, being the great friend he is, took it upon himself to moisten the midnight snack with a dousing of your finest light beer. Ben was so appreciative of the gesture that he sought a glass from the once closed cabinet and requested Jake wet his whistle with him. In his eagerness to share the brew, Ben put a little too much mustard on his toss and the glass struck and shattered on Jake's head. Jake insisted the incident wasn't a big deal and to prove it, offered him multiple beers in quick succession.

Short story: Jake soaked Ben's sandwich, he got pissed, threw a glass at his head cutting him open, after a thorough examination from everyone but a doctor, it was deemed okay that Jake go to bed. Fortunately, he woke up okay the next morning. It was good to see that not much had changed in my time away.

After becoming an accessory to the crime and helping dispose of the evidence, I went over to the indoor fall fest at the GC to catch up with Rhapsody. It was great to catch up with them and due to their lack of basses for their scheduled performance, I was able to sing some tunes with them. I think it was an experience that I enjoyed a lot more than I would have you believe. The only drawback was Mike Adams taking multiple photos of the performance. As much fun as it was, I'm not sure how I'd feel about showing up on the school website post-graduation. Again, I don't mean to present this as a negative experience, but it was a little on the weirder side. Words kind of fail me to describe this, but overall it was a great time I wouldn't trade for much.

I do have to say, the one and only, Justin Rivera, made the experience that day. He sees me and feels the need to tell me that he's going to be late for the performance. I kind of laugh because I'm no longer the guy to tell those kinds of things, and when I was the guy to tell those kinds of things, he never told me those kinds of things. I figure whatever though, old habits, or lack thereof, die hard. We both laugh it off. Then however, about ten minutes later he asks me where Rhapsody is meeting and what songs they were singing. At that moment the situation went from a mistake any Rhapsodian could make to something that could only be carried out by Justin Rivera. I, again, told him that being not a member of the group, I had no idea where anyone was meeting and when. He again laughed in the spirit of admittedly charming apathy and we sought the group together. Truly one of a kind, but I figure as long as I don't get any Sunday night texts on Long Island that he's going to be late for rehearsal, all's well that ends well.

The weekend worked out nicely in that it happened to be Joe Mayes' birthday. A lot of people came out to celebrate the occasion. It was great to catch up with so many people at Murph's. Prior to heading over, I met up with Sharnell and Jess (two of my favorite people) at Jaci's (not so much) and we caught up and whatnot and after a few backhanded insults to Jaci, it really felt like I was home again and we went over to Murph's.

A lot of us spent the evening lighting up the dance floor, which was a lot of fun, and Nate was wearing purple, which is a gift that keeps on giving. At one point a song which Carly apparently liked quite a bit came on and in her efforts to make it to the dance floor as quickly as possible, she nearly hurdles poor Joe, who was nursing soreness from the day's Frisbee tourney and struggling to get out of her way in time. Joe's few moments of clear discomfort with a grinning and uncaring Carly behind him was easily one of the funniest visuals I've seen in a long time and a highlight of the trip.

After a good while of dancing with everyone, Jess and I eventually wound up pairing off. I think it was a pairing we were both grateful for because I was running out of both gas and creativity for dance moves and we both had a distinct understanding of the 5 to 10 second transition period of dancing from one song to another. I had a great time with her and the rest of the crew and I left them with the sight of Jaci walking away backwards into the night. While anytime Jaci is moving away from me is worth celebrating, this was additionally special.

I then hopped over to Brett's to see some more friends, including the briefest of Czar sightings. The party was soon broken up by the cops, unfortunately. However, this was the first time in my life I saw a student cop interaction go by the book, so to speak. In my limited, but no less established experience with cops busting up parties, either the cop has seemingly been kind of a jerk, or some loud mouth punk tries to be tough and ruins the name of most all other college students. In this case, the cop simply said to get out and leave your beer or you're going in cuffs. Perfectly reasonable, he's got to do his job, and the kids really did leave in a quiet and orderly fashion. I mean, I saw some kids stuffing beers in their coats as they ventured into the night, but for the most part, the transition was a smooth one. It was warming to see a cop interaction handled so calmly by both the police and the students. It gave me faith in humanity in a subtle way.

I then when back to Matt's and had a first experience with Drunk Driver, (it's a card game, relax) I told a story that centered around a desert journey to a river of Jello while beards got tangled and people buried themselves in the sand while one poor soul continually offered to remove his shirt. Needless to say, after that it was time for bed.

Sunday was chill, went out to dinner with Brian and Sharnell. Always great to see and chat with them. Then the piece de resistance... Rhapsody practice. It was tremendous to be back and I was welcomed with a classic Nate sandwich, which is the highlight of any man's day. The group sounded great and to sing with them was a real privilege. The group was kind enough to blow the dust off Ants for the new cats (who all seem cool and nice) and we sang some old staples for returning alums. The highlight of the rehearsal however, was easily the spontaneous "Lion Sleeps Tonight" jam session. To have everyone get so immersed in something we just made up off the tops of our heads took me right back to my favorite times with that group. It was incredible. Words fail me for the second time. The new group was very welcoming and I thank them truly and deeply.

The next day, I caught a ride to Philly with the Czar; always a better time than I'd like to admit. We even made a quick stop in Port Deposit (not very cryptically named) and with the exception of a rather underwhelming well (pun wasn't intended the first time I said it, but by now... yeah, it is) sighting, I had a great time talking with Mr. Heaps about past great Baltimore Bullets, Wes Unseld, and Black Jesus, "The Pearl". I love talking about the old game man, a lot of fun. Amber and I spent the trip discussing, among other things, rainbows, the impossibility of excreting an actual brick from your backside, and the finer points of stripping as hobby and/or profession.

A trip to York I won't soon forget. Hoping to go back in late November, but if not, definitely this spring. Thanks again to everyone for catching up with me.

That Tuesday I had a featured poetry reading at a local coffee shop. It went really well and Jay was kind enough to lend a hand and we performed some spoken word and Marley songs. People really seemed to dig it, and with the exception of an aptly placed "chosen one" from Jay that very nearly through me off my game for good, everything went according to plan. The night was capped off with an ode to the one and only Sean Taylor, which is the best cherry to place atop any night. Look for a hard copy of that piece and a few others to make their way to the Internet as soon as tonight.



Song of the Day: Lenny-Stevie Ray Vaughan
Jazz Song of the Day: Only the Lonely-Keith Jarrett Trio