Observations from the Window 6.16

A wet dreary day outside the window today and I really don’t feel like writing anything. Maybe the lull before I head home Friday and the shore Saturday. Looking forward to the house, ocean, and Fred’s but I can’t forget my sis, friends, and hopefully some special downtime. Oh and Stieg too!

Anyways, like I said, I don’t feel like writing much but I wanted to pass along some things I read over the last few days. Each one touched me a little differently whether mad, sad, or just plain pissed off. The end of the first actually brought a tear to my eyes. So when you have a minute, ok maybe thirty, take the time to check them out.

"MARJA, Afghanistan — The Marine had been shot in the skull. He was up ahead, at the edge of a field, where the rest of his patrol was fighting. A Black Hawk medevac helicopter flew above treetops toward him, banked and hovered dangerously before landing nearby ...."
'As Afghan Fighting Expands, U.S. Medics Plunge In' via The New York Times

"KEY LARGO, Fla. — When rigs first started drilling for oil off Louisiana’s coast in the 1940s, Floridians scanned their shoreline, with its resorts and talcum-white beaches, and said, No thanks. Go ahead and drill, they told other Gulf Coast states; we’ll stick with tourism ...."
'Florida Skips Offshore Oil Binge but Still Pays' via The New York Times

"Reports have been coming out of the Gulf for days about British Petroleum blocking access to beaches and animal-cleaning stations, in some instances using private Blackwater-style mercenaries to do so ...."
'Enough of This Crap' via truthout

And finally my tune for the day, and a first at that, country music. But fitting.

tuneage, Brad Paisley - Alcohol

The View From The Roof

flickr

The view from the roof is so different from that of the street, or the window for that matter, that one has to wonder if it is of the same world. Just a few flights above the window seat is a place to utterly lose one’s self. The street and its sounds are lost in the canyons below. On the roof the city itself swirls around you in all its myriad scents.

At dawn the sky is a bright pastel with cool crisp air blowing up from the water. Sunset brings more muted hues and thick calm air as the sun falls into Jersey. The beer tastes good at either time.

When you sit on the roof and ponder life you begin to understand one thing. This really may be the center of the universe.

Jungleland

Observations from the Window 6.14

Ever since my ‘lost summer’, and quite possibly long before that, I have had this deep seated fear of failure. It was reinforced a few years later by a failed relationship, OK poisoned relationship. Psychologically I have been told it’s called atychiphobia, which is defined as ‘defined as a persistent, abnormal, and unwarranted fear of failure. Atychiphobes may subconsciously undermine or sabotage their own efforts to prevent having to continue to try, and therefore preventing any potential failure.’ Hmm sounds familiar.

A fear that people won’t like my paintings, my work, my photos, and for that matter they not like me either. I cover it all up with my cocky, some might say arrogant, personality. Now the arrogance has been a part of my personality as long as I can remember, seriously I was prob a cocky baby, it’s the fear that is a more recent addition. Sometimes to the point that it’s almost a fear of the fear. Jesus I wonder if there is a name for that. I know, I’m just totally insane sometimes.

Saturday afternoon something happened that might finally begin to change that. A watershed moment? Somehow I doubt I would go that far. But for the very first time I sold two of my paintings. Seriously some loon gave me cold hard cash for two of my paintings, two that I had painted a few years ago. Neither was one of what I like to call ‘the big three’, one of which is in the right sideboard, those I don’t think I could ever part with.

But anyway I guess I’m not exactly Vinnie van Gogh yet, hell I might be a little crazy but I ain’t dead, but still it’s a start.

So at the moment life is pretty damn good.

tuneage, Audioslave - I Am The Highway

Observations from the Window 6.12

I sit in the window, after a long night of bartending and breakfast, and watch fog roll in from the harbor. The once clear dawn sky is now gone. I have to wonder what the day brings, well after I get some sleep that is.

A few days ago I suddenly realized I had been here in the Village for six months now. This all got lost in the hectic couple of weeks I had. It seems to have been the quickest six months of my life. At the same time I have now know my one friend for two years. That thought always brings a smile to my face. Maybe they haven’t been the quickest two years of my life but they have been eventful.

But after six months I seem to have more to decide than I ever did. This may be my last weekend of bartending, at least ‘full time’ bartending. I still have to decide whether to stay here or go back to the mountains, to Penn State. But now another, admittedly fun, option clouds that decision. I can't do both so deciding to go with this new opportunity basically decides it all. Plans, ideas, thoughts, none are very clear at the moment. Not that they ever are with me.

A week from today I head to the beach house in Stone Harbor for a week’s stay. Hopefully a bit of shore stress relief is in order. Maybe that will clear my head and I can come to some decisions.

But whatever I decide this strange journey continues.

tuneage, Shinedown - If You Only Knew
(awesome background in this vid)

FYI – This week the ‘Queer/Art/Film’ moves to the IFC Center just blocks away from here. I think I’m going to have to check this out.

Observations on The Morning After

The morning after, a dull aching pain in my head, the feeling of something lost. The Flyers lost game six last night, in overtime no less, ending a long storied run through the playoffs. Highlighted by being down three games to none against Boston and coming back to take the series. None of this was expected when the playoffs began, the orange and black just slipping into the playoffs on the final day of the season, beating the Rangers in a shootout.

After my final preparations I watched the game at a local corner bar where I watched most of the games, sometimes alone and sometimes with friends. Funny thing is I enjoyed spending time with some of these crazy people even though none were Flyers fans when I first walked in. Not that any are now either but they did cheer with me and cry a little too. And when we took out the scorned Boston Bruins there wasn’t a dry eye in the place. Last night, as I left, I even got a hug from a middle aged guy in a Rangers jersey who told me it was a playoff run he would never forget. Sweet but I could have done without the pat on the ass.

As always I traded texts with ‘the kid’ as the game progressed. He filled me in on his preparations for the game “They've never lost a game when i've worn this jersey or been at this particular bar. I've done all i can.” What he felt when the game was tied “Oh thank god”, overtime “I'm dyin”, and the liberal use of alcohol as a calming agent “I've had many drinks. It doesn't help! Ha ha.” And than his final thoughts as he faded away “I was pumped we beat the devils. And got further than the pens.” Poor kid stuck in an apartment with three Penguin fans for roommates.

I’ll always remember so many things from this season. Not the least of which is a new ‘tradition” that seemed, at one point, to help bring shutout after shutout. I’ll keep that one to myself as you never know when you are going to need that one again.

So it is over. Ill have to wait another year to see the Flyers hoist Lord Stanley’s cup. But this Flyers team never gave up, never quit, and they proved anything is possible. No more hockey for this year but it seems a bright future is ahead for this young team.

I guess it always seems that way the morning after.

tuneage, Indica - In Passing

Go Flyers !!!! 6.9

And it again comes down to a must win for my Flyers. Win tonight and force a game seven Friday night. Lose and it's all over. Another loss in the finals, their sixth time since they last won the cup in 1975.

I want to help all that I can so I made a check list ....

Draw a big circle around the TV a
Put out traps for any black cats in the neighborhood a
Dig out the dried four leaf clover a
Run across the street and get that flag off the sidewalk a
Be careful not to step on any cracks in said sidewalk a
Hang horseshoe over door a
Cross my heart over and over a
Water that dyeing ivy plant a
Stick rabbit's foot in pocket, be sure rabbit doesn't mind a
Get all shoes off of tables and hats off my bed a
Turn on Discovery Channel and wish upon a shooting star a
Chant all kinds of weird mantras, that mean god knows what, in a language i don't understand a
Shrug

Stop and take a deep breath ....

Open twenty packs of tarot cards and dig out the Sun cards a
Spread Suns liberally around room a
Hide all umbrellas a
Get out hockey stick and smack all four walls a
Spit on said hockey stick a
Put on grandmothers amber necklace a
Add a clove of garlic to said necklace .... you never know a
Toss any brooms out the window a
We have no crows in the Village but i refuse to count pigeons a
Ooops ! Hide the dead ladybug a
Pick up all pins a
Put Corona on ice and slice the limes a
Lay out Flyers jersey and pick out the perfect black hat a

OK I think I'm ready. Oh one last thing, the original ....



And finally a little geek chat. Depending what browser you are using you might see check marks or the letter a. Well it seems not all browsers read all fonts. Firefox doesn't read webdings which was the only way i could get the check marks (thanks for the help!) so i did this in Google Chrome. I don't pretend to understand.

Observations from the Coffee Shop 6.7

So how did people live before the internet? Tell me please as I am going thru withdrawal here and it has only been about twelve hours. Poof it went late last night and I awoke to a blank screen. I have vented by text and chat and now I guess I vent by blog.

It is a beautiful day in the Village though, a welcome touch of spring in the midst of early summer. Wait it isn’t summer yet, well you could have fooled me, calendar be damned. Seems like every year there is less and less of spring, to the point it seems like a distant childhood memory. But all that is forgotten as I sit at a table outside my coffee shop just watching the girls pass by.

Which brings me back to the web and the question, why am I here when I should be working? Because I needed a fix, I needed some more internet than my little Droid will give me. So I said I needed some iced coffee and headed off with my orders and laptop. Little did they know what I was up to, or maybe they did, but I guess they will now!

Maybe it is me but even here my connection seems slow. Verizon says it could be the end of the week till whatever is fixed. They don’t tell you what the whatever is however. I see steam, or is it smoke, rising from the grate in the street and have to wonder if that is Verizon hard at work. Or maybe the city is just overheating and frying all the cables. So life goes on I suppose. It’s just a little less exciting and heated than it would have been normally.

I have to laugh thought because this is the front page headline from the Times today, 'Hooked on Gadgets and Paying a Mental Price', rather fitting I think. “We are at an inflection point,” he said. “A significant fraction of people’s experiences are now fragmented.” Whatever that means. I'll have to think about it some other time.

tuneage, Stabbing Westward - What Do I Have To Do?

(even this post was delayed because blogger was down when i originally tried to post it. all this, plus the flyers loss, makes for a pretty pissy mood. I am so cursed right now !!)

Go Flyers !!!!

Chicago, Philadelphia Flyers and Chicago Blackhawks, game 5 of the Stanley Cup finals, the series tied two games apiece with the home team wining every game. The puck drops in little over an hour. If the Flyers, who have not lost a game 4 or later in the playoffs, win tonight i think the win it all Wednesday night and hoist Lord Stanley's Cup in front of the home fans. All superstitions and traditions are in play, all of them. So I give you Kate Smith and Lauren Hart, daughter of the late Flyers' announcer Gene Hart, and "God Bless America". The Flyers' record when "God Bless America" is played or sung in person stands at 87 wins, 22 losses, and 4 ties.

Just doing my part ......



(sorry the sound sucks!)

Observations from the Window 6.5

The oil spill in the gulf, not to mention my last post, is all to depressing so i thought i would share some funnier comments. Hey you have to be able to laugh at what life throws you or you end up crying it away. Can't have that can we?

"In what may be the most positive news to date since the onset of the oil spill crisis, images taken by robotic underwater cameras revealed today that the broken oil pipe is the exact diameter of tween singing sensation Justin Bieber." Andy Borowitz

“The BP president said yesterday that the company would survive. That's like someone running over your dog and saying, 'Don't worry, my car is fine." Jimmy Fallon

"On Monday, British Petroleum promised to pay all necessary cleanup costs for this oil spill. And they said they will do it, no matter how much they have to raise gas prices." Jay Leno

"Have you been following the big oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico? Or as we call it now, the Dead Sea." David Letterman

“BP has put more birds in oil than KFC.” As seen on my brother’s Facebook page

And thanks for all the kool aid, arsenic, and other sundry poison tips I got from my last post. Much appreciated.

tuneage, Sonic Syndicate - Revolution, Baby

Obsevations from the Window 6.4

I sit mesmerized by the news as one of the great environmental disasters in history unfolds in the Gulf of Mexico. With 800,000 gallons of oil spilling a day, the equivalent of an Exxon Valdez spill every ten days, some now predict the slick will start to reach New York and New England as summer rolls along. My beach charcoals could have a whole new look this year.

I don’t know much about this stuff, I leave science to my brother and others, but I do know good quotes when I see them so I’ll pass on a handful. Leading off with Rush Limbaugh, yes the tard in chief ....

Here he implies the spill is just a liberal conspiracy to stop offshore drilling.
"What better way to head off more oil drilling, nuclear plants, than by blowing up a rig? I'm just noting the timing here." And even better, "The ocean will take care of this on its own if it was left alone and left out there. It's natural. It’s as natural as the ocean water is."

Jackass! It literally terrifies me that some people actually believe what Rush says is true. You know what natural, arsenic is, let’s put that in the moron’s next meal and then see what he says about natural things. It’s natural for crude oil to be miles below the surface, not in the ocean. It’s just sad how some people are so damn ignorant.

From some other pretenders to the tard throne ….

"I think the environmental impact of this disaster is likely to have been very, very modest." BP CEO Tony Hayward

"There's a good question today if you are standing on the Gulf, and that is: Where is the oil?" FOX News Brit Hume, scoffing at the BP oil spill disaster on May 16. Maybe he should go back and take another look.

“Extreme Greenies:see now why we push"drill,baby,drill"of known reserves&promising finds in safe onshore places like ANWR? Now do you get it?” Sarah Palin via twitter. I got nothing to say here other than that she gives the term woman a bad name.

I want to finish with a passage from Henry Miller’s 'The Air-Conditioned Nightmare', it seems fitting.

"Whatever happens to this earth to-day is of man’s doing. Man has demonstrated that he is a master of everything–except his own nature. If yesterday he was a child of nature, to-day he is a responsible creature. He has reached a point of consciousness which permits him to lie to himself no longer. Destruction now is deliberate, voluntary, self-induced. We are at the node: we can go forward or relapse. We still have the power of choice. Tomorrow we may not. It is because we refuse to make the choice that we are ridden with guilt, all of us, those who are making war and those who are not. We are filled with murder. We loathe one another. We hate what we look like when we look into one another’s eyes.”

tuneage, Eddie Vedder - Society

Observations from the Roof 5.31

Memorial Day began, or Sunday night ended, with Ash on the roof smoking cigarettes and watching the sun rise above the rooftops and the last of the Corona chilled and lonely in a bucket of melting ice. A solitary pretzel vendor moving up the empty street with his cart decorated with tiny American flags.

It’s the beginning of the end of one of those strange periods of life. Those times you look back at later and just have to smile. A weekend of bartending, little sleep, and crawling into bed well after sunrise only to get up so few hours later. A Sunday dawn found us at Battery Park with the Statue of Liberty in front, the sun rising over the narrows, and the ships of ‘Fleet Week’ up the river to our right. I sat with my friends shivering in a tank top, yet drinking a cold beer, as the breeze came off the harbor. I was told this was a very good romantic vamp movie moment. I still have to smile thinking about that one.

Bartending in the middle of Fleet Week, which ends Tuesday, the club filled with sailors on leave and with money burning holes in the pockets. And how many times *can* a gay girl get hit on by guys? A bet made between Kirby and I to see who got hit on the most. Sadly I lost track and ended up buying breakfast.

Hot humid air give the city a feel of an early summer night. The sailors, dressed top to toe in bright white uniforms, couldn’t be more different from the people they mingle with. Actually rumor has it the pregnancy rate rises dramatically during Fleet Week. I have no idea myself nor was I going to find out. Also I was informed I should be riding a Harley, whether alone or hanging on to some hot biker babe I wasn’t told. Another smile.

More than one time this weekend I found myself alone with one friend or another sharing a special moment. Drinking beer, thinking, or chatting about nothing particular. Some of those moments that makes a life worth living. Three days that went by in such a blur I have to sit back and think about them and enjoy them all over again.

Now if my Flyers could win tonight, well, life is good but it could get even better.

tuneage, Skillet - Monster

Observations from the Window 5.28

Yesterday the US House passed a bill allowing the Department of Defense to repeal the law known as ‘don’t ask don’t tell.’ The final vote was 234 for and 194 against. Earlier in the day the Senate Armed Services Committee, in a vote of 16 – 12, passed a similar measure allowing it to be voted on by the full Senate. However both measures are dependent on a Pentagon report on the effects of allowing gays to openly serve in the military. The repeal would be ‘allowed’ 60 days after the completion of the report which isn’t due until December 1st. One has to wonder if it ever will actually happen.

Around the world twenty two countries ban gays in the military. They are Cuba, China, Egypt, Greece, Iran, Jamaica, Mexico, Nigeria, North Korea, Pakistan, Saudi Arabia, Singapore, Somalia, South Korea, Sudan, Syria, Turkey, United Arab Emirates, Uganda, United States, Venezuela, and Yemen. If you ask me that is some totally awesome company we are keeping. Almost a homophobic NATO, we could one hell of a block party with these guys.

Some quotes ….

“This compromise worked out by the White House, members of Congress, and Gay Inc., doesn’t actually guarantee that lesbian, gay, and bisexual people will ever be able to openly serve in the U.S. Military. Instead, it gives we in the LGBT community a promise of process to repeal of DADT without a guarantee it actually will ever result in LGB servicemembers being able to serve openly."
Autumn in a comment to a post on Pam's House Blend

“In response to the United States Senate and the House of Representatives voting on the repeal of Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, forces are mobilizing for non-violent direct action and civil disobedience. Veterans are ready to spend Memorial Weekend in prison. Fasting will also commence. The simple demands are (1) End DADT firings. (2) Enact non-discrimination. (3) End the insulting, wasteful study.”
Lt. Dan Choi who last May announced he was gay on The Rachel Maddow show and plans a hunger strike this weekend.

“I think it’s really going to be really harmful to the morale and battle effectiveness of our military."
Senator John McCain the tired tard, and one time running mate of presidential hopeful Sarah Palin.

"Homosexuals in the military are three times more likely to commit sexual assaults than heterosexuals are, relative to their numbers. We believe this problem would only increase if the current law against homosexuality in the military, which was enacted in 1993, were to be repealed."
Peter Sprigg of the Family Research Council and my tard of the day.

So enjoy your Memorial Day weekend but if you are gay and in New York for Fleet Week don't try and remake that famous Times Square photo. Dont kiss the one you love. I leave you with one question and a final quote ....

At what point do gay and lesbian people become full citizens of this country of ours?

"Oppressed people cannot remain oppressed forever."
Martin Luther King Jr. in a letter from a Birmingham jail.

tuneage, Sick Puppies - Odd One

Letter From Afghanistan

I saw this tonight as both the House and the Senate Armed Services Committee prepare to vote on the end of DADT. It is a letter written by a Lt. Colonel serving in Afghanistan in which he talks about keeping secrets while fighting a war and the boyfriend waiting back home. I think it pretty much speaks for itself ....

"You don't know me. I'm in my early 40s, a career army officer, born and raised in the South. For the last 10 years, I've been in a committed relationship. But revealing who I am would mean breaking the law and risking getting fired, despite 18 years of service to our country, three combat deployments, promotions and a presidential commission to lead troops.

As I write this, it's just past 11 p.m. on Tuesday night in Afghanistan, a day that started like most other days. Yet, today was different. Today, I read that the White House struck a compromise with military leaders, gay advocacy groups and Congress in a deal that could—just might—make 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' a memory by Christmas. Throughout the day, family and friends called and emailed to ask me how it felt. I didn't know what to say because I think that, on some level, I just felt numb. And here in Afghanistan, it was something I couldn't share with anyone, and so I just went back to work.

When I joined the army as an ROTC cadet, I knew I was probably gay. I say "probably" because I had girlfriends on and off, and—to be honest—had convinced myself that I could cure that gay thing through enough prayer and enough girlfriends. Problem was, the sex never really worked. Never felt right. Never was right. So, I became good at other tricks. I was always "too drunk" or "had to get up early" or—pathetically—"was injured during rugby."

The deceit, of course, exacted a toll. I was drinking too much, had anger issues, became estranged from the ones I loved. I had decided that celibacy was the way to go when I met a fellow combat arms officer, who was gay. We had similar backgrounds and similar career paths—both at the top of our respective battalions. We were quite alike, except for one small detail: This officer, a West Point graduate, lived an open life. "I'm a damn good infantry officer, a distinguished honor graduate from Ranger school, promoted early to Major," he'd say. "I believe in the Army's core values. And I don't want to lie."

His determination scared me more than a little. I desperately loved my job. It felt like a calling to command my first unit. Here I was, a junior Captain, fast-tracking toward Major. The soldiers respected me, and it was rewarding to do something I was good at. To do what my fellow officer did—to live in the open—was too risky. What if people saw us together, that big gay officer and me? Might as well wear a boa in front of my troops, I thought. And so I cut him off, and fooled myself into believing that I could do without a partner until I retired from the army in another 20 years.

Over time, however, I found the courage to tell my closest army friends—and not one of them expressed any problems. Of course, I was breaking the law by telling them, and they were breaking the law by not informing the chain of command. But coming out, even in this small group, allowed me to live more honestly and, I believe, eventually find the man who would be my partner. At age 33, I developed the courage to love a civilian, with his own career, three degrees under his belt and a family with room for me, despite my half-dozen duffle bags stuffed with emotional baggage.

Since then, I know of at least four men under my command who were gay. Two of them lived quite openly because they believed that living a lie was counter to their ethical charge as soldiers; one was processed out of the Army under the Uniform Code of Military Justice; and the other was transferred. Another soldier was outed by an Evangelical roommate who had baited him into the revelation. He was not chaptered because we were a week from deployment and no one really believed that it was true. After he left the army, however, he told me that, indeed, he was gay. The fourth soldier I found out about after he died, when his longtime partner wrote to me, not knowing my orientation, to tell me how much this staff sergeant had loved the army; how we were the only family he'd ever known.

In my own life, my partner has none of the privileges of a spouse. We have weathered three long deployments like any other couple might. But should I die in the line of duty, my partner would get no support from any official channels. He would be notified after my brother, who is listed as my legal next of kin. My partner and I have happily accepted my various assignments because we're truly committed to the army, its soldiers and their families. But after our 10 years together, my partner has earned the right to be told first about my death. He has earned the right to make my health emergency decisions. And, he has earned the right to be recognized for his sacrifices just as any other spouse.

Today he sits alone, at our overseas home, waiting for my return from yet another war zone. He is in a foreign country, earning less than one fifth of his previous salary, alone in the home that we created together. What's worse—he is now in the closet for the first time in his life, even to his closest work friends. It's a small, predominately military expat community and chances are that someone he knows is someone who knows me.

I deeply believe that America is fighting the right fight in Afghanistan. I believe in this battle against our enemies. And, I believe that the U.S. Army is the single greatest force for good the world has ever known. But I want to tell the guys I eat lunch with every day about my partner. After all, these are the guys I risk my life with—the guys who think they know me. I can tell you every detail of how each of them met their wives; how one of them still feels guilty about an affair he never had, but thought about; how one of them cried so hard the day his son was born.

Yet they don't know much about my life, except the most superficial details. Over the years, I have become good at evading and changing subjects artfully. To slip up—using the wrong pronoun when describing whom I was with during R&R, or mentioning whom I talked to on Skype last night—is no longer something I worry about. I have become so good at this lying game it eats at my soul.

A week ago, two of my friends were killed in a bombing. The days since then have bled into each other. Between the fighting and the routine, it is hard to find the time for contemplation, and it is usually not until the evening that I allow myself to think about these things.

Now, on Tuesday night, sitting on the base, reflecting on what may have happened today, I consider my numbness and I realize it's a different kind of armor, developed over years of false starts and broken promises by politicians who talk a mean game but then don't deliver.

The military is a covenant between a soldier and his commander. And I need our Commander-in-Chief to keep his promise to my partner and me. I will risk my life, and in return, I ask to be treated simply like anyone else in the service—nothing more and nothing less.

Anonymous"

United States Senate Armed Services Committee :
Main Phone Number: 202-224-3871
Fax Number: 202-228-0036

Go Flyers !!!!!

Saturday night at 8 my Philadelphia Flyers return to the Stanley Cup finals for the first time since 1997. For you none hockey fans the Stanley Cup is the ‘holy grail’ of the NHL. The finals can become a grueling seven game death match. And yes I take my hockey seriously.

I started playing field hockey before any other sport and played till I graduated from high school. Sadly, as with many things, I was never as good as my sister so my career ended there. Hey how many arrogant dark brooding lesbian field hockey players does the world need? I have also played ice hockey off and on for years. I remember when I went to skate with my brother and his PSU friends for the first time. I may be 5’ 10” tall but still they laughed. A girl wanted to play hockey with the macho guys? How rude! Now the typical ice hockey skate adds four or five inches to your height. The laughing stopped. After that I had a lot of good times with those guys. I often woke the next morning bruised and sore but they always treated me as an equal.

Thinking of my brother I have to laugh. He informed me that he has grown a ‘playoff beard’, you know one of those ‘I’m not shaving till the last game’ superstitious things. Now, sorry, but the kid can’t grow a mustache so I just can’t picture it.

Hockey is a very superstitious sport, not that I believe any of it mind you. Wayne Gretzky would never get his hair cut on the road and Patrick Roy would talk to his goal before the game. Everybody seems to grow the playoff beards. The team captain of conference champions almost never touches the trophy for fear the hockey gods will think they are satisfied and not let them hoist Lord Stanley’s Cup. That was the case with the Chicago Blackhawks captain Jonathan Towes. But not Flyers captain Mike Richards (vid) who picked it right up saying “Well, we have not done anything conventional all year or in the playoffs, so why start now?” I had to smile.

This year I have my own good luck ritual which seems to be working just fine. I’ll continue to do may part and hopefully celebrate a Stanley Cup championship in a couple weeks. What is it? I’m sorry but it’s a very personal thing so I’ll have to keep it to myself and a few select others. But thinking of it I have to smile yet again.

Go Flyers !!!!!!

tuneage, God Bless America (yes another superstition)