Playing The Field

It's October, which means is playoff baseball time.  As I've aged, and watched considerably less professional baseball, this is the time of year that I will occasionally tune it to watch a game.  To me, the regular season of baseball tends to get a little drawn out.  The playoffs seem to be a whole different game though.  Recognizing the magnitude of each game, and seemingly each inning and out, managers and players employ a completely different type of strategy.  Hits are celebrated just as much as homers.  A sacrifice fly or bunt can be the turning point in the game.  Unfortunately, the 2017 Minnesota Twins couldn't put together a postseason like the 1987 Twins 30 years previous and bring home another World Series Title.  There's always next year I guess.

Typically, teams that fare well in the postseason are the teams that have a full line-up of players who can step up at any moment.  A regular season batting champ or Cy Young Award winner can only get you so far in the playoffs (if they get into the playoffs at all), as they are only one player on a very big field.  If you use the metaphor of your life as a game, and for sake of this blog's context, a baseball game, then you likely view your teammates as the various people in your life with whom you have personal relationships - typically you're family and your friends.  They are the ones who help you play the game by filling out the various positions on the field.  In life, as in baseball, it can be challenging to play both the role of pitcher and catcher simultaneously.

Just past the All-Star Break of my Puckett Year, I feel like I have been fortunate to spend some quality time with some of the other collaborators on this project.  It certainly hasn't been as much time as we spent together during our college days, but given our various geographic locations, and hectic schedules, I take what I can get.  In the times that I've been able to "hang" with these guys, one of the thoughts that has crossed my mind is despite the fact that we will have all celebrated our Puckett Years within the calendar year of each other, we are all at different stages of our lives.  We came into our Puckett Years with a variety of circumstances; some married, some dating, some single, some fathers, some expecting, some employed, some job hunting, some going back to school, some retired (me!....sort of).  Those various circumstances colored our approach to our Puckett Year, and now that some of us have transitioned out of our Puckett Year, what 34 was really all about.

Having a close group of friends celebrating a milestone like a Puckett Year in close proximity to mine while also being in their own unique stage of life is akin to needing teammates to play all of the different positions on a baseball team.  Just as we have our own unique experiences to bring to our Puckett Year, a baseball player has their own unique skill set to bring to his position.  We play these roles for each other, and we need others to play these roles in our lives.  Some assume the role of starting pitchers, steady and durable, but only on the field every 3-4 games.  There is the power-hitting DH (in the AL at least), who tends to hit only homers when he doesn't strike out swinging on three pitches.  Some are utility infielders, able to play most any position, but typically fall toward the bottom of the batting order.  Every team needs a catcher, the personable one who doesn't mind spending excessive time in uncomfortable positions (since nobody else really wants to).  And you can't forget about the wild-hair closer, who either throws a 110 mph fastball down the pipe or wild pitches 20 feet off the plate.

Just as a baseball team needs all of these different players, with different skill sets and personalities to fill these positions, we need different people in our lives to keep the game in motion.  Given my current state of affairs, I'm not exactly sure what position I'd fill in the line-up, or if I'd even be in the line-up.  I played a lot of right field in youth little league and later in bar league softball, and as this entertaining article suggests, that spot might seem to fit (minus the cannon arm).  Some positions on the field tend to be a little more glamorous than others, and it can be easy to covet a teammate's particular skill or role on the team in comparison to our own.  This, however, certainly can certainly be a switch-hitter of a situation.  A first baseman might wish for more defensive prowess like a shortstop, but the shortstop might wish to be a more powerful hitter like the first basemen.  A right fielder might think playing the hot corner could provide a little more excitement, but the third basemen would possibly prefer to hang out in right field and do nothing instead of continually taking balls in the teeth.

As we take stock of our lives during our Puckett Year, and we look at those around us also in their Puckett Year, it can be easy to want what others have that we don't.  It's good to recognize though that those same people might want what we have.  As a married, father of three who spends a bulk of my time engaged in child rearing, I can certainly get a little jealous of the freedom conceivably available to those teammates who are single, or the prestige and notoriety of those teammates with high-powered jobs.  Those weeknight happy hours or international work trips would be a refreshing change of pace from time to time.  Those same teammates though, might very well wish for some of the things that are more prevalent in my life; a loving wife and kids, and ample time to enjoy their company, or just the ability to wear jeans and a t-shirt all day, every day.  When we start to take our positions for granted, we can look to our teammates to help balance us out.  Maybe they even allow us try their position for a game or two, before we realize that we're just not cut out for their spot.  No successful team can be all starting pitchers, or designated hitters, or even pinch runners.  Each position plays a part on the team, and each position can be the key to winning or losing.  By finding our spot on the team and playing it to the best of our ability, it keeps us in the game.                               

Life is a Miricle

On a cool September fall morning in South Minneapolis, I sit in a quiet house after witnessing a miracle.  My wife Lori and I recently welcomed a beautiful baby boy into the world, Andrew Fern.

I was surrounded by women in a birthcenter, yet felt at home.  Growing up with four sisters, I was always incredibly outnumbered, but very loved.  It was comforting to have professional guidance throughout the entire process.  Being our second time around, similar to our experience with Joseph, there were many ups and downs during birth.  Things moved fast, but at the same time somehow felt in slow motion.  Feelings of excitement, concern, exhaustion, pain, joy and happiness were all part of the morning.  Lori was brave, strong and impressive throughout.  Finally at 11:57am on August 31, an 8 pound 14 ounce 20.5 inch beautiful baby boy was in Lori's arms.  Blessed with a miracle, for a second time.

Anticipating significant change as I entered 2017, I developed a personal mantra that this would be a growth year.  Starting a new job, finishing my first year in business school, adding a new member to our family would certainly change the landscape of life in many ways.  34 has been a big year.  One might say, a Puckett Year.  Just as Kirby Puckett talked about being blessed to play the game of baseball, I have been blessed with the family surrounding me, lifelong friends from SJU and many colleagues and friends across the US, Bangalore, Gurgaon, Hong Kong and beyond.

My work gives me the opportunity to connect with people from around the world.  One beautiful thread across these cultures is the joy that new life brings.  Sharing the news with friends and colleagues near and far, the excitement and well wishes are the same from nearly every corner of the globe.  A genuine smile, offer to help and positive thoughts and prayers pour in.  It's a commonality that I have loved to come to know and experience.

As I think of the devastating events over the past year across France, the UK, Spain, the US and Minnesota, I can only wish that people would exercise love over hate.  I know there are deeply rooted issues that I cannot completely understand or relate to, but I can hope, wish and more importantly act to make a positive difference in this world.  Even if it means helping out a few people in some way.  I am not exactly sure what it is yet, but I am working towards a commitment I've made to myself to get involved.  I would encourage others to take action and I know many already have.  Help out two or more people in some way, it will make a difference.

Along with my personal growth year, my wife is also in the midst of transitioning careers and working as a wellness coach and yoga instructor. Our son has just moved from daycare to preschooler as well as only child to big brother.  Dosh (our pup) now has two little ones to protect, watch out for and play with. Our family is growing and with that somehow comes this incredible capacity to love even more.  An opportunity I am grateful for and truly blessed with.

This past week was an amazing first for Andrew.  It was also a first for Joseph to be a big brother and start in a new school.  It was a first for Lori and I of becoming parents of two.  Here is to our new beginnings of 2017 and beyond.

Hoping this message finds you doing well, loving lots and spreading good wherever you are and however you can.

Andrew spreading his calm love

Joseph loves being a big brother already

Ready for pre-school, too cool.

Jobs, Jobs, Jobs

Date: Wednesday April 20, 2016

Time: Feels-like-the ass-crack-of-dawn (a clock would likely place it right around 7:00am…I’ll pause for those readers currently possessing children sufficient time to roll their eyes)
Location: The sole bedroom of a downtown Minneapolis, MN apartment

It’s early, but the Uber-X will be arriving soon for the silent 20-minute haul to the airport.  This is not unusual. In fact, seven bells is quite a bit later than normal for me to head out for a flight.  As I throw together my standard carry-on survival items (noise cancelling headphones, Clif Bars, last week’s Sports Illustrated that I will read cover-to-cover before takeoff, a book I won’t read at all, and a fresh pack of Orbit Wintermint), it is currently the 15^th week of the year and, according to the Delta app on my phone, this morning’s flight from Minneapolis to Phoenix marks the start of my 13^th round trip of 2016.  I turn 33 in a week and, after nine years of going in to an office each day, the new job I started last November has been a welcomed change – working from home when in Minneapolis, but on the road most weeks flying to such exotic destinations as Edison, New Jersey and Broadview Heights, Ohio to sell the financial advisors of Big Ten territory (minus Maryland and Nebraska, so the real Big Ten) on the wonders of individual disability income insurance and motivate them to incorporate it with more prevalence into their client’s financial plans.  It’s been a challenging but fun and rewarding few months getting things started, but it’s time for a break.  A spring break, as it were.  So I can’t wait for this 9:30 flight because once I land in Phoenix, I’ll head to National car rental, pick out the best minivan in the lot, pop in the “Van Tunes” mix CD I made last night (spoiler alert: it’s mostly Van Halen), pick up Ben and Katie when they arrive from San Francisco, drive to the Airbnb rental in Scottsdale, acquire and consume a beer, wait for the rest of the adult spring break crew to arrive, sit on/in/around the pool, and repeat for four days. 

And then my phone lights up with a text from my boss:

“Mandatory call today. 9am. I know you’re on vacation, but you need to dial in.”

Fast forward a couple hours.  That tall guy staring out at the window along the corridor leading up to gate G20 at the MSP airport with earbuds in as the first class and diamond medallion passengers (I’m only silver for those concerned how much of a Clooney scene from Up in The Air this resembles) walk past him to board the flight to Phoenix?  That’s me.  And those earbuds?  They have been broadcasting dead air for the five minutes that have passed since the conference call ended.  They’re calling my zone, so I put the phone away and muscle memory kicks in to execute another flawless boarding process (with the assistance of every flight attendant who has ever greeted my entrance to the aircraft, I have become expert-level at watching my head), but my mind is still staring out that window with white noise spinning on repeat in my ears.  About a half-hour in, just as the flight attendants start their ginger ale slinging, I snap out of it, buy the in-flight Wi-Fi, download the email that was sent after the call ended, and use the complimentary Star Tribune from the Delta lounge (Clooney game strong here) as scratch paper to calculate my severance pay.  In two months, corporate restructuring will render my position terminated and I will be unemployed for the first time since graduating from St. John’s in 2005. 

Would I care for a beverage?  I would.

(admittedly less Clooney)

Date: Monday April 24, 2017
Time: 5:30pm
Location: Same Minneapolis apartment

It’s been a weird year.  Not necessarily good or bad, but definitely weird.  The most common phrase that I’ve used over the past 52 weeks has been “if you’re going to get laid off and you live in Minnesota, get laid off in the summer.”  And while my short game, sun tan, and bicycle all saw at least 10 times more attention last July and August than in any prior, not having a job still sucks.  Even though I had two months of advanced notice and a more-than-fair severance payout, striking the proper balance between “enjoy this and take some time to figure out what you want to do next” (see above photo) and “get a job, sir” proved to be incredibly challenging.  All those hours sitting in a cubicle on beautiful summer days thinking “if I could just get a chance to start over and do something I REALLY love…” were calling my bluff.  Here it is: my big chance to hit reset and use the layoff as leverage to meet with a ton of different people and, in the process, find my dream job. 

Well, that didn’t really happen.  I did a good job of networking (my coffee and happy hour games have never been sharper) and was blown away by how many people – most of whom I hadn’t spoken to in years or had never met at all – took time to talk with me and actually cared enough to make further introductions and provide really good advice.  As I moved through the process, I started realizing that maybe my dream job or some other massive life-altering opportunity may not show up – even if I look really hard for it without the shackles of active employment.  Now that might sound depressing, but it felt just the opposite.  As someone who has always fought the notion that the grass is always greener (I believe the youths call it “FOMO”), being forced to actually go inspect some other lawns started to give me more peace of mind and confidence that even if my dream job isn’t sitting out there waiting for me, I’ll be OK. 

I started working again in October of 2016 and, while not it’s not exactly the life of an MLB relief pitcher (think about that gig for a second...seriously, think about it, I’ll wait…that is the best job on the planet, right?), I took a bit of a chance.  After ten years of working for massive corporations, I accepted a position working as a sales rep for an employee benefits consulting firm employing exactly six people (myself included).  I’ve traded the Delta Sky Club for Casey’s General Stores while driving all over the state to meet with public sector entities (cities, counties, school districts, etc.) in an attempt to show them why working with our firm will improve their insurance costs and employee relations.  Is it the earth-shattering dream job that I always thought could be out there beyond the cubicle walls?  No.  But it’s challenging, fun, and rewarding, so along with the much-welcomed return of providing an income, it certainly checks enough of the important boxes.

Despite what has been by any measure the most thoughtful and perspective-building year I have spent on this planet, I know that I’m always going to be looking over the fence trying to see if I can find something better.  And I’m OK with that.  What’s gone now is the underlying sense that if only I could take a month off to re-group, re-set, re-evaluate, and re-connect, that perfect job and answers to all of my problems and professional anxieties are just sitting there waiting for me around the corner.  It’s highly likely that realization isn’t exactly earth shattering for some reading this, but it was for me and I’m grateful that I was given the chance to figure it out (…and work on my short game).

I’m certainly not the first person to get laid-off (not even the first person to get laid-off who has written a post on this very blog), and I don’t have any wise pearls from the experience that are going to change anybody’s life.  But I think that all of us still question our professional situations pretty frequently, so it’s something everybody deals with from time to time.  Healthy skepticism and motivation to improve your situation are two of the best attributes that I learned from my time at St. John’s and growing up with my fellow contributors to this project.  And as we get older, those evaluations and potential actions thereof take on much more profound consequences, so hopefully sharing the perspective I gained over the past year will help. 

And if not, nobody leaves empty handed, so let me know and I can at least give you some recommendations on out-state Minnesota gas station pizza options and/or which Minneapolis coffee shops are most tank top friendly during daytime hours.

Rounding third...

Guess what? Katie and I are heading for home. And by “home” I mean Minnesota. And by using a “rounding third” and “heading for home” I’ve fulfilled my obligation to include a baseball metaphor in every post on this blog.

Me wishing San Franciscans well

But we’re really doin’ it, Harry! We moved to San Francisco three and a half years ago. It’s crazy to think it’s been that long, but I’ve also stopped trying to grasp time. Maybe that’s something that happens when you hit 34? I’ve definitely caught myself judging experiences by how they “feel,” more often. Vacations, hanging out with certain people, jobs. Things just start to “feel” too short or too long, and then you try to do something about it – either immediately, or the next time around.

It feels like now is the right time to head back, but like our journey out here, the move is equal parts exciting and terrifying.

Exciting:
- People (family & friends)
- Spring/summer/fall
- Owning a home again
- Parking a car in a garage at said home
- Re-acclimating with the Twin Cities

Terrifying:
- People (family & friends are in different life stages compared to when we left)
- Winter
- Missing so much about San Francisco
- Needing to drive and park said car because we can’t walk everywhere
- Feeling like we’ve made a mistake after leaving

Have you ever gone somewhere by yourself and thought, “Man, this is sweet,” but then immediately followed that thought with “I wish _____ was here!”? That’s sort of what living out here has been like. These three and a half years have been so awesome, and I don’t know that we would have changed anything. But living out here has also emphasized how much we appreciate our families, and our closest people. While we’ve made some great friends, it’s just not the same. And the idea of picking up and doing this all over again somewhere new/unfamiliar sounds pretty awful. The prospect of stepping back into an accessible, friend-family network sounds pretty great. Sharing new experiences with these folks sounds even better.

Me upon returning to Mpls (I assume)

I’ve been stealing Costanza’s philosophy by saying we want to leave SF on a high note, but it’s true. There’s so much out here that we’ve yet to do, and yet I don’t know that ten years would be enough time to do it all. So best to leave now before things turn sour.

Since we’ve been telling what’s happening, common questions (and answers) include:

- Why? (A: Life choice, this city is stupid expensive, we miss people, feels right)
- Do you regret selling your old house? (A: No, change is good)
- Are you taking new jobs? (A: No)
- Where are you going to live? (A: We just bought a house in S. Mpls)
- When are you moving? (A: We close on it May 15)
- Is there anything we can do to help? (A: Not right now, but thank you for the offer)

We’re trying to enjoy these final days here in the Bay Area, and not get all wrapped up in the real estate/logistics-shit nightmare that entails moving. At the same time, we’re also not trying to make our move feel like the absurd ceremonies of Kobe and Jeter’s farewell seasons. After telling some friends it’s been so good getting to know them, one deftly replied, “We're not dying.” Fair point.

But it’s hard to not feel like heading back to Minnesota means packing it up and settling in for the long haul. I guess to that end it’s worth keeping that philosophy of “feel” in mind. Again, we’re 34 years old. This is like the end of the 3rd inning* of our lives.







*Ok, two baseball metaphors

The End's Not Near, It's Here

Having recently crossed the starting line of my own Puckett Year, I find myself now contemplating the fact that I am, without doubt, one year closer to death.  As they say, the only inevitable things in life are death and taxes.  In the last post, Adam eloquently commented on the preciousness of life.  None of us knows how much time we are blessed to have on this earth, we only know that with each passing birthday, we are assuredly getting closer to that final inning.  It's not always festive to contemplate your own mortality on or around your birthday, but it is a helpful reminder that your time is finite and you won't always have a chance to say, "we'll see you all tomorrow night."

Encounters with death or seemingly imminent mortality, either our own, or that of a loved one can also provide a poignant opportunity to take stock of our own life.  Within the past few months, two personal instances have brought the reality of death to a fresher state in my mind; a visit to see my 95 year-old Grandma whose health has been deteriorating rather rapidly over the past few years and my Dad informing us that he'll be going in for surgery to remove some cancerous tumors from his prostate.  It can be these moments that help re-orient us to what truly matters.  A quote that I recently came across surmised at "how interesting it is that men seldom find the true value of life until they are faced with death."  Or as country-singer Tim McGraw puts it, "someday I hope you get the chance to live like you were dying."

One of my favorite movies examining life philosophy, and one I watched at least 20 times in college, is the cult classic "Fight Club".  Undoubtedly one of my favorite scenes from the film is the "Human Sacrifice".  Upon being saved from seemingly imminent death, Tyler Durdin remarks that the following day will be "the most beautiful day in Raymond K. Hassel's life".  We then see that Tyler's gun contained no bullets, leaving us to assume he never intended to kill Raymond.  I've often pondered the possibility of creating an LLC that would stage these near death experiences for people's loved ones, or themselves if they were twisted enough.  I've thought of how we could all occasionally benefit from having a gun pointed at the back of our head asking what we'd wish we would have done before we died, and then being given the chance to go do it.  I'm certain there are numerous legal and ethical issues with a business of that nature.

One class that all of us Johnnies had to take during our first year was a class entitled "Skills for Healthy Living".  It was a one credit class, meaning it met once a week and required minimal work.  It was unanimously despised by the freshmen class because it was A. mandatory and B. the only class where there were no female counterparts - which was one of the driving factors for attending any class in the first place.  I recall that our instructor (I won't even go as far as to call him a professor, since I'm pretty certain he was an assistant coach of some sport and just taught the class to supplement his meager assistant coaches salary) discussed Stephen Covey's well-renowned self-help book The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People.  Covey's second habit, and one that I vividly remember our instructor discussing, was the idea to "begin with the end in mind".  The notion that if we contemplate what we want to become, or in theory, how we want to be remembered, we'll be more likely to achieve those goals.  That concept is portrayed in the assignment given to Tom Cruise's character of writing your own obituary in the movie "Cocktail", a film I last watched on a dubbed-from-TV-VHS tape with a few other contributors to the Puckett Project^.

Had I been more mindful of the idea of beginning with the end in mind, it may have deterred me from a few (or numerous) suspect things I did during those four years at college (and likely beyond).  But fortunately, or unfortunately pending your viewpoint, we don't necessarily get to choose how we will be remembered.  Our project namesake is a perfect example of this.  Many remember Kirby Puckett for his on field accolades and the way he played the game.  Some remember him for his sudden retirement and unpleasant post-retirement antics.  Most certainly the way he had to end his career, and the suddenness of his death were not how Kirby would have wanted to go out.  If Hall of Fame baseball players don't get a say in the matter, I can't imagine fate will be any kinder to the rest of us.    We can only hope that when our obituaries are written, the writers will have some mercy on us, highlighting "nothing but the hits" and omitting the experimental stuff that likely flopped.  

If I had to write an obituary for any of the other contributors to this project, I'd have some pretty incredible things to say.  Thankfully that task has not presented itself yet, nor do I hope it does anytime in the near future, as I'm certain each of them will have great "obit material" in the many years to come.  As Matt poignantly articulated in his post, "the content of our character and the connections that we make will leave an impression on others," and the contributors to this project have all left lasting impressions on me.  When we consider what others might write about us in our own obituary, it can provide some needed inspiration to do those amazing things we've long dreamed of.  Reaching our mid-thirties, and in theory having a good chunk of life left on the statistical average, the end shouldn't be near.   But there is no escaping the fact that "on a long enough timeline, the survival rate for everyone drops to zero."  The end may not seem near, but it is here if we want to use it to motivate us to live a fuller life.  As Adam succinctly put it in his post, you have to "live your live", no one else is going to do it for you.  It's also your only life, and it's ending one minute at a time.        

^There is a slight chance we actually watched "Risky Business", but it was most certainly a Tom Cruise film and it was definitely taped from a TV broadcast.

Live your life

Life is precious.  We live in the world.  Live your life.

These are words I heard on a late night NPR program on my way home from a band practice with a group of Johnnies who gather occasionally to play gems written and recorded in the 90s.  

The words shared on this public broadcast were simple, yet, powerful and thought provoking.  Author Jonathan Safran Foer shared his first point, that life is precious.  From the miracle of birth to cherished childhood memories to your first love to the many wonderful experiences one may have through travel, with family or around good friends.  I think of my time at St Johns and realize how lucky I was to attend this school, filled with outstanding young men and woman who had a huge impact on the formation of my adult life.  The experiences on campus and while studying abroad in Greece and Rome all gave me reason to believe and understand how precious life is.  Locally in the small town of Collegeville and globally in every country I have traveled to.  I also reflect on the birth of my son, while living in Hong Kong, my wife and I were blessed to bring a new baby into the world. From day one we witnessed how precious life is, and every day we learn something new.

As I anticipate my upcoming Puckett year, scheduled to start in March of 2017, I think of my childhood baseball hero, Kirby Puckett.  He clearly experienced the life is precious concept in game 6 of the 1991 World Series.  Making a game time catch by essentially flying in the air to rob a home run, followed by a game winning hit, he literally brought the State of Minnesota to a new level and extended a magical World Series to a 7^th game.  Anyone watching that night can still remember hearing the words "and we'll see you tomorrow night!"

Now as in life, balance provides many positive aspects, including perspective and a grounded reality.   Foer's next idea is that "We live in the world" where normal every day events happen and challenging things occur.  People experience times of dull and mundane as well as pain and suffering.  There are many examples of this concept throughout life and something that seems to be even more frequent and real in once 30s when compared to earlier years.  As of late, I’ve realized that life is in constant transition.  I clearly remember a few of my most difficult life transitions including; leaving home for college, adjusting from college to a full time job, becoming a parent, being let go from a company after 10 years, starting a new role within a new industry.  Those were uncomfortable times of change.  We live in the world and that comes with life's challenges.  Kirby Puckett, a baseball legend, a household hero, fell into challenges of health and personal issues in the later part of his life.  This was challenging to witness, as Kirby was a hero to so many of us.  However, we are all human.  Things happen.  We all suffer.  We in fact live in the world.

Now my favorite part of this trilogy is that we have the opportunity to live our life.  The third point brought up by Foer is that one should "live your life".  This is an idea that you can fall into the trap of a fast paced life or a slow paced life or feel pressured by many societal expectations.  But you also have the opportunity to choose how you spend your time, to live your life.  Now this doesn't mean that everything has to be perfect, in fact it’s the balance of the perfect and imperfect.  It’s a mantra to do things that you enjoy, even though life has it's challenges.  Spend time with people that energize you.  Lift others up. Choose positivity and live your life.  A leadership mentor of mine in India reminds me often "You have one life!".  Live it. Enjoy it.  The gentlemen I have the honor of sharing this collection of posts with are excellent examples of this idea.  From leading an inter city school, to working with Spanish speaking patients dealing with mental health, to raising a family of beautiful inspiring children, to creating a successful local business; these are just some examples of the many accomplishments from this fine group of men.

This leads me to my last point that ties into all of these.  What I've learned during major transitions in life is that they are often uncomfortable.  New experiences rarely have familiarity and if they do the transition itself can be uncomfortable.  They may lead to unexpected encounters or feelings.  This may be fun and exciting (life is precious) but it also can be daunting and scary (we live in the world), however I've learned that these experiences of being uncomfortable often lead to new levels growth and development and confidence (live your life).  

I can only imagine what it was like for young 24-year-old Kirby Puckett when he joined the majors, perhaps exciting and scary and uncomfortable.  After his first two years in the big leagues, he logged 10 consecutive years, a decade, as an All-Star.  A true legend, a hometown hero.  If you find yourself in a time of un-comfort, realize it also may be a time of growth.  If you find yourself comfortable, consider trying something that is not.  You never know what it may lead to. 

I have been blessed with a wonderful life, a loving family, outstanding friends near and far and once in a lifetime experiences.  

Thank you for being a childhood inspiration, Kirby.

Thank you for your friendship and making a life long impact, Johnnies.

Thank you to my family for all of the love, support and encouragement.

Life is precious.  We live in the world. Live your life!

Legendary friends, legendary times.

We live in the (cold) world!

Even our Christmas Card honored the MN Twins.

Time Fades Away

It will surprise no one that this post will use a Neil Young song as its vehicle.  Time Fades Away is a 1973 album recorded during the tour immediately succeeding the successful release of Harvest.  Time Fades Away serves as the title track of the first album in the famed Ditch Trilogy, a series of three albums with a grim shadow cast upon them due to the loss of a band member (more on that here).  The Trilogy contains some of my favorite Neil tunes.  The lyrics of the title song aren't as grim as others in this period of Neil.  You can hear a bit of desperation in his voice, but unlike the normal Ditch Trilogy feeling, this song really makes you want to stomp and dance a bit.  

The chorus of this song kept with me:

 

Son, don't be home too late.
Try to get back by eight
Son, don't wait
till the break of day
'Cause you know
how time fades away.
Time fades away
You know how time fades away.

I think the song is recognizing how easy it is to lose track of time when you’re having fun.  Turning 34 has only proved this out for me in real life.  As a 34 year-old celebrating every day of his Puckett Year, I can’t believe I’ve gotten this old, this fast.  And as I look back, all the fun of the last 16 years or so certainly has been a factor in time moving at record speed.

I do not match the picture “22-year-old Matt” might have dreamed up for himself.   Not much has changed.  Preferences, maybe.  But at my core is the same guy: deeply caring, sometimes a bit bombastic, restless.  I think the people we engage with remain the same at their core, too.  As time fades, it’s nice to know that we, ourselves, do not fade (or at least we diminish at a much slower pace).  As a direct result, our relationships stay true for a long time as well.  I think that’s why we’re all here writing. 

I did not know Kirby Puckett.  I don’t know whether he stayed the same person over the years his star rose, and subsequently fell.  Unlike most of us, though, Kirby has a handful of amazing moments that captured us as young people.  And most likely, one of the first memories we have comes from Game 6 of the 1991 World Series.  I don’t know that any of us will have a moment so huge that millions of people remember us for it, whether we ever meet them or not.  So we have to travel a different path.  The content of our character and the connections we make that will leave an impression on others, day by day.  People will remember us based on hundreds of interactions, instead of one fantastic night.  Let's keep that in mind during our Puckett Year, and make every moment count.