My Annual Mid-Life Crisis

(originally posted September 2009) 

Well, it’s late September, and that means I made it through another year and another birthday.  And since I’m a practicing Virgo, that means I also survived my Annual Mid-Life Crisis ^TM.  This was actually my 10^th Annual Mid-Life Crisis (AMLC) and quite possibly my last. I started this ritual before my 35^th birthday and since then I’ve covered a wide-range of life-expectancies from 70 to 90.

You may wonder,  “Are you depressed, Greg?”  Well, I always get a little introspective near my birthday.  I enjoy comparing my life against a detailed milestone tracking spreadsheet (who doesn’t?).  I think of the journey as a personal “Quo Vadis”, or “where are you going” in Latin, a language which I’ve studied, but remain less than fully fluent (reference D:314 in the spreadsheet).

You may ask “what if you croak before you hit 70?"  Excellent question, and something I addressed exhaustively during my inaugural mid-life crisis. CliffsNotes version: Yes, of course, I should have started earlier. My plan, which I hatched during that very first AMLC was to just make sure I live until 70. I know it’s weak, but it’s the best I’ve got. I’m a goal-setter  and that’s my goal. I think I can do it. Don’t mess with a goal-setting Virgo.

People ask me, “Why do you celebrate your mid-life crisis every year?” Here’s the benefit of celebrating (yes, it’s a celebration) the mid-life crisis annually:  If you limit yourself to one mid-life crisis, there is a lot of shit to think about. A lot. More than you think. Even if you are relatively well adjusted, it’s a lot of shit. Some people get a mid-life crisis just thinking about thinking about it. It is just too much pressure to put on yourself to sort out all your issues in one crisis. I’m lucky. I’m a planner. And I thought, hey, why not spread this crisis into more manageable chunks?  Here’s how mine have come to pass:   

		Annual Mid-Life Crisis Tracking Spreadsheet
Year	Age	Topics
1999	35	Am I going to have kids, or not?  Also, why didn't I start these mid-life crisis sooner?
2000	36	What is death going be like? Will I be hungry?
2001	37	Have I ever made a flour-less chocolate cake?
2002	38	Gulp. I'm going to be a dad.
2003	39	I have made zero progress this year!
2004	40	WTF I'm 40? How did that happen?
2005	41	I am never going to get to the moon.
2006	42	I really like the number 42.
2007	43	I sure miss being 42... hey what is going on  with my toenails?
2008	44	What am I going to do with the rest of my life?
2009	45	Uh-oh:  My eyes are not “sunken”. That is actually  where my real face is, underneath this face fat.  What kind of exercises can I do for my face?

Sure, some years are deeper than others. But overall, I feel pretty good with this 10 year span.  However,  a pesky dreamer friend of mine (actually, I’m lying, it’s just me) brought up a really great point, namely, “Greg, why stop now? what if you live past 90?”  I’ll certainly ponder this during the next year.  I’ve created an option I call the “Annual Mid-Life Crisis in Perpetuity.” It gives me the peace of mind to know that my mid-life crisis occurred at the exact mid-point of my life. It doesn’t get any better than that.  The freaky side benefit of the “Annual Mid-Life Crisis in Perpetuity” is that if it turns out that I am immortal, I’m still covered, no matter how long I live.  And that is an Annual Mid-Life Crisis I can believe in.

Sourdough

For the past few years, I've been baking frequently - almost exclusively following Jim Lahey's no-knead bread methods to make bread and pizza, etc.  My results have been quite good and it's been very satisfying to bake good bread. In June of this year, I decided I was ready for the committment of sourdough. I created a sourdough starter following Nancy Silverton's method as described in her "Breads from the La Brea Bakery" book.

My starter, day 3.

Silverton's method worked great. And now I have a real, living sourdough starter on my kitchen counter. Maintaining a sourdough starter is daily activity. I think about my starter every day. I consider how it is progressing, how it looks, how it smells, it's viscosity, airyness, etc.  It requires daily attention. It is literally a new mouth to feed. And it has opened the doors to a wealth of new baking possibilities. 

I'm going to start to write about what I'm up to in the world of bread. My successes, but also my failures. Very much about that. 

My very first "country white" sourdough. 

(this was a success!)

Tram 28 and the weird cemetery

For a change of pace today, we did some sightseeing aboard Tram 28, Lisbon's best tram. Our meninos (boys) enjoyed it, and we all needed an easier day.

At some point, everybody had to get off the tram (?), so we looked around and there was a cemetery across the street. We decided to check it out. It can be interesting reading the names and looking at the headstones. This cemetery is known as "Prazeres" a name which apparently stems from the neighborhood, (but oddly translates as "pleasures"). It was unusual because it featured gigantic family-sized mausoleums in crowded rows, which in aggregate, looked like a little town. La di da. A town of dead people. I snapped a few pictures.

After lunch, we visited a Port wine tasting room in the Bairro Alta district. We tried some amazing Port. Good stuff. Super smooth.

Later on, we hopped on the metro to find Versailles Pastelaria, a longstanding favorite known for its attractive setting and delicious Portuguese pastries. It did not disappoint. Yum!

For dinner, we cooked a traditional portuguese-style dinner at our apartment. (there is a small kitchen). Nikki broiled dourado, a popular local fish, with salad and potatoes and we enjoyed some wine (tinto) from our hosts.

Good day!

Portugal day

A few nights ago, while waiting for a table at a crowded seafood place here in Lisbon, we began to chat with two women in line behind us. They spoke English, and like my mom and me, our fellow diners were also of Portuguese descent. And although they looked and sounded perfectly normal, they were Canadian. Shocking, I know. But Canadians are all right. Seriously. Soon we were sharing all sorts of information (did you know there is a big Portuguese community in Toronto? My mom mentioned Fall River Massachusetts. Neither party had heard of the others' huge enclave! Before long we were listing all the Portuguese surnames we knew (Sousa, Paiva, Mello, Raposa...) and any other Portuguese connection. "Did you know 'It's Not Easy Being Green' was written by Joe Raposo?" How about White House photographer Pete Sousa?

It occurred to me that I've poked fun at a friend of mine for engaging in the Jewish version of this dialogue. It made me realize that people just want to belong and feel connected. It was pretty cool connecting with our fellow diners. I even asked them about the Canadian healthcare system, and of course, they thought it was great.

Today was Portugal Day, celebrated in Portuguese communities all over, so that's my story.

Gulbenkian Museum

The Gulbenkian Museum in Lisbon hosts a truly amazing art collection - prized specimens from a wide range of periods, places and styles. All housed in a fairly compact museum that has both the charm and uptightness of the Norton Simon.

Belém, Portugal

We had a great time in Belém today, and not just because we made two visits to the shrine of Portuguese pastry, and the home of "natas", Pasteis de Belém.

After some European-style transport woes, we headed straight for the natas, an egg custard pastry which is ubiquitous here. These were still warm, and made us all happy.

Next, we visited several key landmarks, most notably the Tower of Belém, a really amazing fortress built in early 16th century. We also visited the sensational Maritime Museum, a testament to Portugal's seafaring tradition, especially their amazing advances in navigation. The Portuguese were true explorers!

ps. And they really love pastry too.

Castelo de Sao Jorge

Enjoying perfect weather here in Lisbon. Today we walked in the oldest part of the city, the Alfama district. We keep getting lost in the maze of tiny twisted streets. I think we tend to forget how close places are, and we overshoot our destinations. Sometimes by quite a bit. Still, the exploring is all good.

While relaxing inside this castle we heard some beautiful live music from guitar and guitarra, the latter being a mandolin-like instrument peculiar to Portuguese culture. We also heard a fado singer join in, a melancholy and soulful musical style which is especially celebrated here in Alfama.

Mom is happy

My mom is deliriously happy to be here in Lisbon.

On our way

All good. Waiting for our flight to Philly.

visiting Modern Family

Thanks to my friend Eric Stonestreet, I visited a Modern Family location shoot yesterday.  Here are just a few pictures.   I thought it was very nice of Eric and co-stars to pose for photos with me.  These people are geniunely nice, and yes, I was paid to write that, but it's still true. 

Here's Eric, looking dapper. 

Modern Family's kitchen includes a seemingly endless supply of Ricola cough drops.

Here's Reid Ewing, who plays Dylan. We were heading in two different directions, but still, he stopped and posed for this picture, which enraged me. 

Here's Eric's other half on the show, Jesse Tyler Ferguson, who is simply hilarious as Mitchell, and often insists on photos that feature antenna.  For the record, Eric is also hilarious as Cam.  Seriously, Stonestreet. 

This is not the chair I sat in, but I did sit in one like this.  This one is reserved for heads of state, such as Vladimir Putin.

Since the shoot was inside a tiny restaurant, I was able to watch a live rehearsal, but then retreated to a shaded video coccoon where I was able to see this multi-camera view and listen remotely to the scene using at headset at any volume I desired.   It was very cool to just be a fly on the wall next to Executive Producer Steve Levitan and writer Jeff Richmond  (until someone swatted me.*)  But even that was done very nicely.  
(*It was the assistant in charge of the Ricola - apparently it is a finite supply).

And of course it was a thrill to meet Nathan Lane, and to watch him work.  These guys make wearing lavender look easy. 

I also met star of the show Ed O'Neill and he was very kind to pose for a photo too, but for some reason the shot didn't come out (but I'm not blaming anyone, okay).  I just look forward to a future opportunity to visit the set of Modern Family.   

Her shoes

It was her shoes that caught my attention.

I was sitting in my car at a red light, and as she worked her way across the street, I noticed her shoes didn't match.  Her left shoe was a pale tennis-sneaker.  The back was folded under her heel.  She walked unevenly. Her other shoe was a black boot, low, but still significantly taller than her tennis shoe.  She was an older woman, and her clothing was a mish-mash of black and cranberry colored garments draped upon her.  Her gray hair was matted beneath a construction hardhat, and her belongings slung over her shoulder in a black trash bag.

That's when I started to weep.

She is a person.  One without a pair of shoes to her name. Wearing a helmet.  Going somewhere.   How can we let this happen?  I don't know if she is someone's mother, but she herself was someone's daughter.

I wondered for a moment if there was something I could do for her, but honestly, I didn't know.  I knew we were close to the Union Station homeless shelter, and that gave me a little hope.  But I also couldn't help thinking about how we are systematically destroying the safety net in our country while simultaneously rewarding the ultra-rich with additional tax breaks.   I have no idea what led to this woman's situation, but it saddens me that anyone could become a wandering homeless person - especially in the midst of the wealth that surrounds us.

You may say that I'm bleeding heart liberal, (and I am), but I also know that this poor helmet-wearing woman is not alone.  Approximately 1200 people are homeless on any given night where I live in  Pasadena California.  Some are children.  She is literally the tip of the iceberg.  And we know for a fact that the gap between the ultra rich and the rest of us is growing.  And somehow we think that rewarding these ultra rich people at the expense of everyone else makes sense.

Well it doesn't make sense.  It doesn't make sense from an economic sense and it doesn't make sense from a human sense.  Real people are getting crushed by these policies, and honestly, it's only going to get worse for the next two years with Republicans controlling the House of Representives.  They want to chip away the meager level of protections that still remain, still bitter about the passage of the New Deal legislation despite the pronounced period of prosperity those policies created.

It makes me nostalgic about one of the great symbols of America, the Statue of Liberty and Emma Lazarus' wonderful poem "The New Colossus", engraved on the statue.  We should not lose sight of this vision nor the huddled masses that are near and need our help.

"THE NEW COLOSSUS"

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame, With conquering limbs astride from land to land; Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame. "Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

Source: Emma Lazarus, The Poems of Emma Lazarus, vol.1 (1889), 2

California Ballot propositions

A few years ago, I got involved with a group of aging dinosaurs in the local area that are very interested in local politics.  (I kid - several of the group members are under 75, and very few require supplemental oxygen!)  The group, known as ACT, has been actively involved in Pasadena area politics for over thirty-five years, and is a non-partisan (but most members are democrats) liberal-leaning group.  We have detractors on the other side of the aisle (and some on this side of the aisle) but I think the group is engaged and informed on the issues.  Additionally, ACT members are very involved in local and regional boards, commissions, foundations and issues.  I have been very fortunate to be a member of this vibrant group, and I have personally learned a great deal about local and statewide politics.  This is what civics class should really be - learning about the issues that effect your community, and actively participating in that community. 

I'm currently co-chair of the ACT Research committee.  We have two main roles on the committee: research and make recommendations on ballot propositions, and interview and make recommendations on candidates for local office.  In September, we met to discuss the upcoming California Ballot propositions.  Members of the committee research the propositions.  Then our committee meets and debates and votes on these propositions.  Then the larger ACT Steering committee considers our recommendations.  

If you want to read the details of the research committee report, you can download (free!) at the ACT website, link below.   For your convenience, here is our summary of ACT's Proposition endorsements for the November election: 

• Prop 19:  YES  (11 - 0 - 7)  LEGALIZES MARIJUANA UNDER CALIFORNIA BUT NOT FEDERAL LAW
• Prop 20:  YES  (18 - 0 - 0)  REDISTRICTING OF CONGRESSIONAL DISTRICTS
• Prop 21:  YES  (16 - 2 - 0)  ESTABLISHES $18 ANNUAL VEHICLE LICENSE SURCHARGE TO HELP FUND STATE PARKS
• Prop 22:  NO  (13 - 1 - 3)   PROHIBITS THE STATE FROM BORROWING OR TAKING FUNDS FROM LOCAL GOV'T
• Prop 23:  NO  (17 - 0 - 0)   SUSPENDS IMPLEMENTATION OF AIR POLLUTION CONTROL LAW 
• Prop 24:  YES  (17 - 0 - 0)  REPEALS RECENT LEGISLATION THAT WOULD ALLOW BUSINESSES TO LOWER THEIR TAX LIABILITY
• Prop 25:  YES  (17 - 0 - 0)  CHANGES LEGISLATIVE VOTE REQUIREMENT TO PASS BUDGET TO A SIMPLE MAJORITY
• Prop 26:  NO  (17 - 0 - 0)   REQUIRES THAT CERTAIN STATE AND LOCAL FEES BE APPROVED BY TWO-THIRDS VOTE
• Prop 27:  NO  (16 - 1 - 0)   ELIMINATES STATE COMMISSION ON REDISTRICTING

http://actpasadena.org/

Playing catch

Over the past weekend, we brought our sons to a sporting goods shop and picked out their first baseball gloves. I remember playing little-league baseball as a boy, and playing catch with my dad was something special.  When my sons were born, one of my very first dad feelings was knowing that someday, I would play catch with my boys.  I can only describe it as something in my DNA, like how those little baby turtles know to scurry into the ocean as soon as they hatch.  When I became a dad, that future moment was hard-wired into me.

Seven years later, that moment was here.

Sure, we had played catch before, with whiffle balls, footballs, and frisbees.  But this was the whole package:  my sons and I in the back yard, playing catch with a baseball, wearing our baseball gloves.

Kazuo, being two years older, was a bit better than Eiji, but they both enjoyed it.  I tried my best to give them good throws, and showed them how to squeeze the glove closed.  It was nice.  Kazuo was smiling so much.  It felt nostalgic, as if watching though sepia colored lenses.  It brought back some nice memories too.

One memory was my very first time signing up for Little League.  I was so eager to play!  But my birthday was 10 days past the September 1st cut-off date.  My dad knew that, but it didn't stop him from bringing me to the American Legion Hall on registration day and trying his best to get me on a team.  He wasn't able to convince them to break the rules for me, and I was very sad.  But to this day I remember fondly that he tried.

I recalled another memory as I tucked my sons into bed that night.  I know that I was a fairly average baseball player - I played a lot of second-base and right-field, if you catch my drift.  But I enjoyed the game, and played until I was in the 8th grade.  That year, my team was actually quite decent, and we made it to the championship game.   I told my sons about that game.  Going into our last at-bat, we were trailing 4-1.  We didn't give up - and in fact, we managed to load the bases.   And in one of those moments that seemed to ooze destiny, it was my turn to bat, with two outs in the last inning, the bases loaded, trailing by 3 runs.  I did the math.  A homerun would win the game.  I remember I was holding a red aluminum bat.  It was the smallest and lightest bat available.   I remember having butterflies in my stomach, and sort of wishing one of the better players was up at bat instead of me.  I remember our coach, Mr. Goudreau, having all the confidence in the world as he sent me to the plate.  "Just try your best", he said.

And I remember hitting the ball farther than I had ever hit the ball in my life.

It soared to the right centerfield fence.

The right fielder ran back, all the way to the fence.  He reached up with his glove.  And he caught the ball.

I explained to my sons that daddy's team lost the game.  But the important thing, I tried to make clear, so many years later, is how I played the game.

A few weeks after that game, at the Little League awards night, Mr. Goudreau gave a nice speech about that game, and my hit, and how time stood still as we all watched that ball fly toward the fence.  And then he gave me that red aluminum bat.  And everybody clapped.  Sometimes I still wonder what would have happened if that ball did go over that fence.  It seems weird, but looking back as a dad, I'm sort of glad it didn't.

Paul Winslow Sawyer 1934-2010

Over this past weekend I attended a moving memorial tribute to my friend and neighbor, Reverend Paul Sawyer.  I had only known him for a half-dozen years, but his life was literally larger-than-life.  At his memorial service, someone referred to him as "our brother from another planet", an attempt to describe his super-powers of compassion and tireless devotion to the causes he championed. I have never met anyone with such a singular focus on helping other people - especially people without a voice, people without hope. 

I wasn't a member of his congregation, but I was lucky enough to have many conversations with him. He'd rap on my door, sometimes at surprising hours, to let me know about an event or a protest of some sort.  Our conversations touched upon community organizing, community-based police with a real citizens oversight board, ending war, the media, freedom, justice, ending the death penalty, education and history.  It seemed as if whenever and wherever I attended a meeting, or a rally, or a fundraiser relating to peace and social justice, Reverend Sawyer was there.  Sometimes he'd come up to me and say "Great to see you - any chance you can give me a ride home?"   It was as if earthly matters, like getting from place to place, was not a worry of his.  He was absorbed in life. 

I remember the first time I tried to enlist him in a cause of mine. His wife Susan escorted me to their back yard, where Paul was engaged in Tai-Chi. I noticed he was wearing an arrest bracelet.  Getting arrested for standing up for justice was a badge of honor for Paul.  I heard that he was arrested over 60 times during his lifetime.  And if there are "Pearly Gates" in Heaven, I wouldn't be surprised if he has chained himself to them. 

His memorial was held at his church, affectionately called "The Onion". The Los Angeles Times, in their story about Reverend Sawyer wrote: 

In his 1968 book, "The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test," Tom Wolfe described Sawyer's church as a "marvelous modern building shaped like a huge Bermuda onion" and forming a towering dome with "fantastic acoustics."  

http://articles.latimes.com/2010/jul/12/local/la-me-paul-sawyer-20100711

After I parked my car on this hot day, I took a deep breath before I walked inside.  My father passed away in May, just a few weeks before Reverend Sawyer's passing in June, and now every memorial gives me time to also reflect on my dad, who I miss dearly, and remember him in so many ways. 

Inside the Onion for the first time, I was delighted and surprised to see the jazz musician Billy Mitchell and his trio in the program - and I later learned that Billy Mitchell was friends with Reverend Sawyer.  My dad also loved jazz and the Billy Mitchell Trio was among his favorites. And then I broke down in tears when they played Horace Silver's "Song for My Father" to begin the service.  It was good for me to be here, remembering my friend, who was also a father. 

Ministers from many faiths were present and spoke so eloquently, for Paul Sawyer inspired so deeply.  Paul's children added poetry and song and an unbelievably touching video montage, which gave me insight into the earlier years of this wonderful life. And the Billy Mitchell Trio brought us all to our feet as we joined in singing "Compared To What", a protest song written by Eugene McDaniels and made famous by Les McCann and Eddie Harris, and another favorite song of mine. 

The entire memorial was moving, and warm and reflected Reverend Sawyer's booming personality, now beautifully carried on by his children, who each played a part in the remembrance of their father.  Paul's wife Susan and I agreed it was a wonderful tribute.   I feel very fortunate to have known Paul Sawyer.  I have never known someone to be so passionate about helping other people, and with so much energy.  I think his daughter summed it up best, when she said what I think is one of the great memorial quotes of all time:  "My dad really wished he could have been here today."

The Dream is Alive!

As a stay-at-home parent, few things match the unbridled joy of the beginning of the new school year.  I am now in a particularly sweet spot because my little one just started kindergarten, and so I have two children at the same school.  There is nothing like dumping the kids off at school and letting yourself simmer in the juices of freedom.  Let me tell you, suffering stay-at-home mommies and daddies, this promiseland is real.  Right now, I have the luxury of sitting down and enjoying a full mug of coffee – no questions to answer, no fights to interrupt, no snotty noses to wipe!  School is awesome!

But it’s not only about me and my freedom.  While I stitch together the scraps of my skills-based resume, my kids are (presumably) learning and their futures are being fed. They can still be whatever they want to be when they grow up.  The Dream is Alive!  (for them!)

As for me? I’m not so sure.  Lately I’ve been dwelling upon my own dreams  And as a practicing Virgo, I recognize this soul-searching as my old friend, my Annual Mid-Life Crisis ^TM, now in its eleventh consecutive year. This is not depression but simply planned annual self-improvement.  I am a very positive person.  (My blood type is my motto: B Positive.)  

But seriously folks, who shut down my dream machine?

I was a pretty darn good runner in high school. Westfield State even considered me for a Track scholarship.  I dreamed of competing in the Olympics, and I even ran imaginary races against the best runners in the world.  I never did get to the Olympics.  Not even close.  At this point, my only real hope is Olympic Curling.  And that is just sad.

I didn’t think I could feel bad about failing to reach goals that I didn’t even have.  But I learned that you can.  A good friend of mine recently won an Emmy. He deserves every bit of his success.  I jumped up and down and cried with happiness when he won.  The next day, my mother mentioned that she too would cry if I won an Emmy (like my friend’s mom actually did).  I took it personally. I had to tell her that it is highly unlikely that I will win an Emmy.  She understood, but now I have dashed my mom’s dream of being a parent of an Emmy winner. 

My dream of being a doctor went splat in the 10^th grade.  We were testing our blood types in Miss Brown’s biology class.  I fainted at the sight of my own blood and woke up in the nurses office.  (The takeaway? Miss Brown later told me “B positive.”)

For a brief time as a child, I wanted to be an architect, mostly because I like using rulers and protractors, and wearing plaid.  I even had a plaid lunch box.  That was as close as I got to being an architect.

I also wanted to be President of the United States.  The Presidency has always fascinated me.  As a kid, I would spend hours reading their biographies and memorizing facts.  I do want to make this world a better place, and I’m a huge fan of both fireside chats and cardigan sweaters.  But who am I kidding? This is an absolutely unreachable goal.  And I know I couldn’t survive the criticism.  My wife made an off-hand remark about my watermelon cutting technique and it put me in a funk for the rest of the evening. 

I haven’t been entirely a failure (I think I’ve been a good dad), and thank goodness for the wonderful and rewarding years I had at NASA’s Jet Propulsion Lab.  Strangely, as much as I like space, and math and science,  I never actually dreamed of working in space exploration, it just happened as I followed my interests.  Similarly, I never thought about being an astronaut, because I know too well the dangers of rocket propulsion and the inherent risks of space flight.  Sure, there was always the fantasy of zero-gravity sex, but the lure was not enough to overcome my fear of being strapped to a launch vehicle.  Maybe I’m old-fashioned, but I still prefer to control when and how I explode.

I guess that’s the beauty of childhood: it is a time for dreaming.  Growing up sucks. Letting go of dreams, as crazy as they may be, sucks.  The good news is, now with the  kids back in school, I have time to dream again.  And I even have room for some crazy dreams.  After all, I think I should be positive – it’s in my blood.