Adios 2020: Ye Shall Not Be Missed

 For those of you who have followed this blog for some time, you would be expecting my end of the year recap here. I pondered a lot if I should do one or not. And to be honest, I really don't want to reminisce on many things that happened this year. Setting COVID-19 aside, there's a number of other things that occurred, both to me and the world, that would've made this year forgettable. So I'm not going to do one. Simple as that. Instead, I will write about things I look forward to hopefully in 2021 and for sure post COVID. But...I do want to point out two things that did happen to me this year that were amazing.

I was in a rough spot in 2017. I was a year out of college, no job in sight, my Australia trip looking like it wasn't going to happen, and I was down to less than $100 to my name. But God showed me his grace and provided me with a job. It was only supposed to be 18 months, but 7 months in, my company switched my recruiter and made my contract renewable, meaning unless I did something catastrophic, my contract would be renewed every year. Then, after being employed for 3 years and 2 months, I was promoted from a contractor to a salaried employee. During a pandemic. In a time when many people lost their jobs, are struggling, companies are cutting back, I got security. My 5 years of college classes finally paid off. And there's no way that would've happened without the grace of God.

The second thing that happened this year was I finally was able to purchase a car less than 3 years old and less than 20,000 miles. No more 10 year old, 100,000+ mile cars that need constant upkeep. I'm truly grateful and hope to have this one last for years to come.

Now I know the virus isn't going to magically disappear as the calendar changes from 2020 to 2021. But with vaccines finally available and with some knowledge of this virus being known (unlike March when it caught us off-guard), I have hope that 2021 will be better. Below are some things I hope to see happen in 2021.

I miss traveling. And not just to the next state over. I miss buying a plane ticket to a new city. I miss seeing things I've always wanted to see, experiencing local food and culture, and the thrill of the unknown. Some of the best memories in my life have come from my trips. I have a list of destinations, plans, and things I want to do and see here in the new future. I may have to get creative, but I'm going to try and make things happen.

I miss being with people. Like a lot. BBQs, geocaching events, holiday parties, Sunday gatherings, watching sports at restaurants, eating out, I can go on. Hopefully these things are more probable next year.

I miss being at Progressive Field and watching baseball. Even if you don't really follow or care about the sport, being at a ballgame can still be a really good time. I have so many wonderful memories at the corner of Carnegie and Ontario. I hope for the chance to return in 2021.

I also hope for those who struggled vastly, suffered loss in any form, that 2021 would be good to you. That you would be able to find hope, that things would turn around for you, and that you may be able to find joy.

Lastly, I want to make an announcement. For many years I've had the thought of doing this, hoping that maybe one day it will be in published form. While I still have my good memory, starting in January 2021 at minimum once a month, I'm going to post about my life. So an autobiography, but in blog form. The plan is to do so until I've caught up to current day. A lofty goal I know, but I'm going to do my best to keep up with it. Does this mean I'll only blog about that? Nope. When I get the urge to post about something else, I'll do so. And in order to not get confused, any post pertaining to the blog autobiography will have "The Story of My Life" in the title. Does this also mean I'm limiting the posts to one or two a month? Nope again. The minimum is going to be one autobiography post a month. But I know once I come to a number of different places in my life, I'll probably spit out a bunch at once. Also, it's not going to be sugar coated in the sense that I leave some bad things out or make things way better or worse than they actually were. It'll be raw at times, it'll be intense, and it'll be real. 

On that note, I'm ending the last blog post of 2020. Here's to hoping for a much better 2021 and goodwill to you all!

The Last Ride of the Lady in Blue; So Long Malibu

 In 2017, my first love, a 2004 Dodge Intrepid, decided to cough up a transmission at 214,000 miles. So I sadly said adios and welcomed my second love, a 2008 Blue Chevy Malibu.

She was in excellent condition for a car with 127,000 miles. I expected many good things from her. So much so that like the Intrepid before her, two months after I got her, I took her on a long road trip. It was a special one because during the summer, I was in Australia and missed our family trip back to Pennsylvania. So I decided that I was going to make the 6 hour drive to PA and surprise my Grandparents for Christmas. She handled it like a champ. Got me there no problems and gave me a Christmas to remember. I had to give her more of a test on the way back by taking her through the mountains. What a drive around those crazy turns that was. 

Her next big test was five months later when I went on another solo road trip to Cincinnati. The test wasn't really the drive down, but more-so all the hills that Cincy has. I wasn't sure if she was going to make some of them. She also did a lot of stopping and starting as I went from geocache to geocache over the weekend. I had so much confidence in her that I dipped down into Kentucky for a brief visit before heading back to Cleveland. Smooth sailing all the way.

One summer her age started to show with interior pieces starting to wear down and some rust began forming on the edges above the wheels. On vary rare occasions (once a year) the power steering would just conk out. But the next time I started her up, no issue. The interior issues weren't good enough for some high school kids I was driving around and they told me my car was broken and I needed a new one. Sheesh. But I didn't think so. I still thought she had a good chunk of life in her.

After a year and six months, I put her up to a double test. It was June of 2019. I drove her up to Detroit to watch a Tigers game at Comerica Park. I wasn't quite sure where to park so I looked for paid parking lots nearby. The first one I came to was tightly packed and had a dirt floor instead of asphalt. Then after I paid the guy at the booth, I found out that they valet it to an open spot. To say I was nervous would be an understatement. I just drove 2.5 hours to Detroit and wondered if I was ever gonna see it again. Well I went and watched the ballgame and watched the Indians beat the Tigers and Jake Bauers hit the cycle. So as an Indians fan, the game was awesome. I then walked the handful of blocks back to the parking lot. I gave the guys at the booth my parking card and they retrieved my keys and pointed to where she was. I breathed a sigh of relief. I tipped the booth guys, thanked them, and then promptly drove 40 min to Ann Arbor where I was going to spend the rest of the weekend.

The second part of the test came soon and unexpectedly. Two days after I left Ann Arbor, my grandfather passed. So the following less than two weeks later, I drove me and two of my brothers 6 hours back to Pennsylvania. She new the route well, but even though she gave me a tire scare (faulty TMPS sensor) she pulled it off again.

After we returned, I decided to get her oil changed and a check-up. My mechanic suggested new tires would be a good idea and it made sense since I could tell they were getting bad from the previous winter. She'd been good to me this far with no major problems. I had to change brake pads, spark plugs, and rear shocks, but that's normal for a well used car. So I ponied up and got her new rubber. 

As the Fall of 2019 neared, the problems began to come. The rust around the edges got worse, to the point I could stick my hand through a rust hole. Then the actuator in my heating/cooling system went leaving a constant ticking noise wherever I drove. Not a cheap fix. A month later, my right front wouldn't hold air. My mechanic re-adjusted it and it would hold air for a week before I'd have to fill it again. A couple weeks later, my left front started leaking. I thought I had it under control, but driving back from Pittsburgh in January, about 40 minutes from home, I knew the left front was really low. I'm pretty sure I drove it those last 40 minutes on 10 psi. I tried to nurse it the next week, but that was a bad idea as I left walked out of work one day to a completely flat tire. Drove it home on a donut. Found out that both the front rims were bent. Went out and got four aftermarket rims on it. Another punch to my wallet. Then, a week later, all hell broke loose when I couldn't accelerate, my RPMs were shooting above 6000, and I was livid. The timing mechanism in my engine went. For a car with 160,000 miles on it among other internal issues, there was no way the car was worth making that fix. But unfortunately for me, I just sunk a good chunk of money into it, wasn't looking for a new car, and needed a functioning car now. So I bit the bullet hard and got it fixed. My wallet screamed at me.

As you know from a previous post, I got into a fender bender in the summer. I messed up her front pretty good. Thankfully only cosmetic damaged occurred, but it still pained me. I was hoping I could make it one more year, but then, on my 30th birthday, the started died in a Discount Drugmart parking lot and forced me to call a tow truck. I got the starter fixed and now was heavily looking into my next car. While I was doing so, I had the Malibu appraised by a dealer and they informed me the front end suspension was rusted out...yikes. This poor car aged so fast on me that I wish she would've acted up sooner before I put the tires on, as much as that pains me to say. So I finally found my third love and I took my Lady in Blue on one last long slow drive to the dealership where I left her for good. 

Before all her problems, she was pretty, she drove like a dream, put up with my hard turns, sharp angles, and even some stupid quick lane shifts, and she got me where I needed to go. Through heavy rains and blinding Cleveland snow, she was my baby. And I know it's just a car, but she was my car. She was the first big purchase I made after almost going broke and being without a job for a whole year. And her name was Emily. 

I'm 30

An Ode to My 20s

Twenties, I thank you.

I thank you for reminding me to dream.

I thank you for making some of those dreams come true.

I thank you for the new chapters you brought.

My first car, my first place to live of my own,

My first trip overseas, my first salaried job,

My first concert and my first kiss.

Kidding on that last one.

Thank you for the strangers I now call friends,

And the ones who became practically family.

Thank you for pushing me to breaking points,

So I could rise stronger.

Thank you for keeping my ER-less streak alive 

(Not one visit!)

Thank you for the weddings, the trips, the joys, 

The memories I'll never forget,

And the nights I'll always remember.

Take a bow 20s, you served me well.

Because I'm 30.

Here's to the next decade of this crazy thing we call life!

Perfect Love

I'll cut to the chase. These days are rough. I don't believe I'm exaggerating when I say that everyone is going through the ringer. And it's in times like these that something important is needed now more than ever. I'm talking about love. I truly believe that if love was more abundant and if differences and hate could be replaced with it, I guarantee this world would be in a much better place. But wait. There's something even better than love. Perfect love. And before I go any further, I want to briefly define what love is.

According to 1 Corinthians 13:4-8 "Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres." With these words, it's all absolutes. No maybes, no partially, no buts, or ifs. Part of this definition that sticks out to me is "it is not self-seeking" and "it keeps no record of wrongs". That's as true of a statement as they come. Now that love has been defined, let me tell you the real reason why I'm writing this.

I happened to be in a downtrodden state and what I find to be an excellent remedy for that is to simply read the bible. And recently I was in the book of 1st John and came across a passage I knew well but hadn't touched in a while. As I was reading, it hit me in the feels...hard. The hurt I was feeling melted like a dropped ice cream cone on pavement in July. The passage comes from 1 John 4:9-11:

"This is how God showed His love among us: He sent His one and only Son into the world that we might live through Him. This is love: not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another. No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us."

The above is a truth I try to live by. God loved me first. Therefore I ought to also love others. But it's not easy. I'm human, which means I'm not perfect. I have flaws. I do or say things that to me may be of no issue, but to someone else may be a thorn. I know for a fact I'd rather have someone love on me than chew my head off or secretly have an issue that festers into an ugly sore. I have friends who have drastically different ideals and beliefs that I do. Society would scream to cut them off. But it's not as if they are racist, toxic, or bad people. It's simply that their views are the complete opposite of mine. But they are people I've known for years and have cared about for this long that simply having beliefs or values that I don't agree with that cutting them off would be the last thing I would ever do. 

When there is a lack of love, people tend to spew falsities without even truly knowing someone. That's why you'll never hear me call a liberal a snowflake. Or a conservative a bigot. What good does that do? If anything, it severely damages any chance you had to try to get people to understand your side because why would they want to take the time to listen to someone who resorts to name-calling? And the real icing on the cake are those who call themselves Christians, yet they harass and condemn people just because they are gay. They use hurtful words and spew hate. Or the ones who harass women outside of abortion clinics. These people have no idea what these women are going through. And in no way, shape or form is any of that going to aid their cause. It makes things worse and it's not anything Jesus would've done.

I want to share with you an example. I enjoying playing video games from time to time. Especially online ones where other live people are involved. The only downside to that is that people are incredibly toxic behind their screens. You have a bad game or make mistakes that cost your team the win, be prepared to be harassed. One time I had a bad game. We lost and after it ended I received an ugly message from a player on my team who had a great game, but it was ruined by our loss. I could've sent him a nasty message back. I could've also ignored it. But instead of letting his hurtful words destroy me, I replied apologizing for my mistakes, telling him I just had a bad game. I congratulated him on how well he did and wished him better luck in his next game. I then received an unexpected response. He said "You are the second person to reply to me like that. I'm sorry for what I've said and you've made me think about how I treat people here. Enjoy the rest of your night." Just like that, someone who had nothing but hate to spew melted. Simply because I responded with kindness. I know it's incredibly hard to do when someone attacks you, but trust me on this, showing kindness and love is the best thing you can do.

I mentioned fear before and how 2020 is filled with it. In that same chapter of 1 John 4, there's a verse for fear and it also resonates with the title of this post. 1 John 4:18 says "There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment."  

There is no fear in love, but perfect love drives out fear. No human love is perfect. But God's is. It's why I cling to this belief. It's why I fear little. This is what's been going through me lately. It's true that because of my human flaws, I will not always resort to kindness and love. But I sure can strive for it. 

These Boots Were Made For Walkin'

You may have noticed this image on my facebook page recently. If you did, you know then that I've had these boots for 22 years! You may be wondering how that's possible. Well I'm going to tell you their story. 

When I was 7 years old, someone gave my parents a pair of boots to give to one of us kids. Since I was probably the only one whom they'd fit, they were given to me. Unfortunately, they didn't quite fit. So when snow came, I put on double layers of socks and stuffed my snow pant's legs in them. They wouldn't fall off after that. For the most part, I only used them on snowy days. Southern Pennsylvania isn't as bad as North-East Ohio when it comes to winter weather, but they still got their use. 

About the time I turned 12, they fit enough that I didn't need anything extra to make them fit, but they were still a bit loose. Then around my mid-to late teenage years, my feet stopped growing and fit the boots perfectly. For 22 years, neither my parents nor myself had to pay for a pair of boots.

If they could talk, they'd have many stories to tell. They stood their ground amidst fierce snowball fights. They were lock in on many snowboard straps and stayed strong as I flew down (and wiped out) hill after hill. They've roundhouse kicked a few snowmen, tromped through heavy mud, muck, creeks, rivers, marched up and down trail after trail, and even kicked more flaming logs than I can count. But it was the last five years that finally did them in. 

I got into geocaching in 2015. This hobby requires a lot of walking and hiking. And because I participate in this hobby frequently and find myself in the metro parks a lot, these boots got worked more than they ever had. Twenty-Two years takes a toll. The heel on the right had finally worn a hole. The heel on the left was completely worn off. They had rips and tears, were permanently muddied, and now painful to walk in. So it was time to say goodbye.

Surprisingly, I got many complements by random people over the years on how cool these boots were. I'm a sentimental guy and 22 years with those boots made them feel like a close friend. But the reality is that they were dirty, beaten, and done. Holding onto something like that just isn't necessary. They served their purpose and served it well and their end had come. The garbage man took them away Friday morning. My new pair of Timberlands sits with my other footwear waiting for their first use. It's the first pair of boots I've ever bought. Here's hoping for another 22 years. 

A Wild Ride in the Youghiogheny

For as long as I've had a bucket list (which was first made in my early teenage years), I've had white water rafting on it. I had an opportunity years ago, but the group that was organizing it didn't get enough interest and decided to cancel. Starting on the 8th, my family went on vacation. This year, we would've been in Wisconsin, but due to this nasty virus, that wasn't feasible this year. So my siblings and I decided to go down to Ohiopyle, PA and white water raft the Youghiogheny River.

Tim, Sarah, and Stephen had all done it before on this river, so we decided to rent a raft and a banana boat and tackle it ourselves. We got to the rental place, got our gear, our rafts, and made our way down to the launch site. The man waiting down there to see us off told us to have a safe, but fun ride and told us to make sure the young lady (Sarah) put her helmet on forwards. We all got a good laugh, but then the guy playfully scolded us by saying, "there are a lot of you and none of you said a word!"

Feeling like we were ready to take on the world, we launched the raft and the banana boat into the river. As we launched, there was a big waterfall at our backs to remind us we were in for a wild ride (but no we wouldn't be going over a waterfall). I knew going into this that this was going to be intense and that falling out was highly likely. So with the safety instructions I was given, the life-vest and helmet I was wearing, I mentally prepared myself to take whatever the river threw at me.

We came upon our first rapids took them head on. The dip in the center was quite low that we got drenched. Nathaniel and Brad came after in the banana boat and because it was narrow, bent head first into the water, dunking poor Brad and soaking him pretty good. After they cleared it he asked "Is that the worst one?" "Nope" was the answer he received. 

The big challenge with running rapids is the rocks. There are the large ones well above the water and there are the smaller ones hidden under the water. Generally, if you steer properly, the current will carry you around them big ones or make you just brush them. It's the underwater ones that are a pain as they can cause the raft to get stuck. To get unstuck, you have to do some fancy people maneuvering in the boat. We found ourselves in the latter situation a handful of times throughout our adventure, but one specific time caught us by surprise and made for a harrowing adventure.

According to the map they gave us, there are six sets of rapids from the launch point, before you hit a long stretch of calmer waters. After that first rapid, we cruised through the next two with no issues. Then came the fourth. By this time, we were feeling incredibly confident and saw this big dip in the middle of the rapids. We decided to challenge it. As we charged into the dip, things were going well...

...then the raft seemed to stall, take a hard turn, and the next thing I knew, I was being dumped into the river. As I was falling I looked up and saw Stephen falling towards me. I sunk into the rough waters, and as I surfaced, Stephen's thrashing arms unintentionally pushed me back down. I resurfaced, thinking someone was still in the boat to rescue us, but to my shock, it was upside down. My eyes darted around looking for everyone else, to be sure they were alright. I saw only Sarah and Stephen. Instinct told me to try and get to the raft, but the water was moving so fast I was pushed away from the raft and now I had to focus on dodging massive rocks and getting to calmer waters. 

We were told before we launched that if we fell out, to not try and stand up because your feet can become trapped in the rocks and the force of the water will thrust you face down and prevent you from getting upright. So that's what I did. Since we flipped in the middle of the rapid, I only experienced the less tumultuous part of it outside the raft. However, the river was so low, that hidden rocks underneath the water punished my rear end. I took a couple solid hits that left a mark or two. Clearing the rest of that rapid, I looked around and saw Stephen and Sarah. Sarah was close enough to me that I could communicate with her, but Stephen was too far off to do so. He drifted around the edge of the river behind a rock and I was hoping he'd make it to shore. I spun my head around to try to see the raft situation. I caught a glimpse of the banana boat near the raft and the raft being flipped upright. But that's all I saw because I was now entering the next set of rapids and had some major rock dodging to do.

As the violent rapids pushed me forward, I once again surveyed what was in front of me. I saw two more sets of rapids and hoped those guys would reach us soon. I still saw Sarah beside me and kept telling her to keep an eye out for calmer waters while getting forcefully slammed by water. Helpless, I entered the next series of rapids. Before me was a giant rock that water was crashing into. I gave my legs a kick and struck a rock below me. Fudge. I stuck my arm out to absorb most of the blow I expected to take. But before it took the hit, an unseen rock below the surface nailed me in the rear. That one hurt, but it's force was enough to project me away from the rock a slow my momentum just a bit. Which was good because I grazed another large rock instead of nailing it. A few more sunken rocks took their shots and rogue waters continued to pound me. With a few more bruises, I finally cleared those rapids. Sarah was still within eyesight and seemed okay but a bit disheveled. 

I had a moment to notice there were very calm waters ahead, but another patch of rough waters awaited...as well as a large bridge with massive stone pillars. By this point I was wondering where the heck those other guys were only to remember a river can toss one person faster than a raft and a boat carrying a few. 

The last set of rapids came swiftly and carried Sarah ahead of me. There was a double dip and then the dreaded pillars. Sarah cried out at each dip as more hidden rocks slammed her from below. Still keeping my feet up, they managed to clip more rocks. Then I hit the double dip and spun like a top. I wondered if I was going to break or fracture something for the first time in my life. 

Head above water, the mighty pillars loomed. Thankfully I surfaced centered enough to not be head on with them and narrowly missed one by mere inches. The waters lightened up just a bit and I warned Sarah to avoid a large tree branch. She kicked towards shore and I drifted by. Then with the strength I had remaining, I fought-swam towards a rock near the shore. I managed to perch myself between the pair. Now it was a waiting game.

A few minutes later, Nathaniel and Brad passed by in the banana boat and told me Tim managed to get everyone else...thank goodness. They then shouted back at him to let him know where I was. As the raft came by, the waters were still strong enough that the raft couldn't get directly to me. So I dove out into the river, and Tim, who was nearly the whole way out of the raft, extended the oar as far as he could reach it. I managed to grab it and they hauled me in. My butt hurt. I could feel some of the bruises, but overall I was fine. And thankfully, so was everyone else. 

We now had a long stretch of calm waters to recuperate and right our bearings. You may think this tale ends here but...

..that was only the halfway point. The very next rapids we came upon were known as the Dimple Rapids with a Dimple Rock. This was the most dangerous set on this river. There were warning signs and even a trail that allows you to portage around them if you don't feel you can handle them. To put it in perspective how dangerous these waters are, in the past 30 years, 18 deaths on the river have been attributed to boating accidents and 9 of them were in the dimple rapids. Basically there is a large rock to the right. It's so big that the river races up it and turns back into itself while colliding with the water running off the nearby rocks for a chaotic tangled mess of water. Then to top it off, there's a large crevice under the rock that you can get trapped in and there's no way out.

We discussed for a moment portaging it or even stopping to look at them first to see how to do them, but we didn't do either. We came to ride rapids, to take them head on, to laugh fear in the face, and experience the thrill of the raging water. We said "Send it!" and rode straight into hydro cyclone. The paddles thrashed the water, we sailed around Dimple Rock, got briefly hung up on another rock, and then cruised out the other end losing no one and staying in the boat. But holy heck was that one whale of a ride. 

The rest of our journey was quite uneventful with a few more slightly intense rapids to go through. Yet almost 3 hours later, one out-of-boat ride through the rapids, one ride through deadly rapids, and one sore rear-end later, we had finished our course. Reading this, one may ask if it was worth it. My response would be absolutely. Because what's living if you don't take chances in life? If you sit around wondering what something is like and never doing it? Carrying a large bag of "What ifs?" can drive you insane. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger right? I'd say so. On a final note, another bucket list item has been executed. Looking forward to which one I complete next!

For the Love of the Indians

I'm still attempting to get out at least one blog post a month. This month I tried multiple times. But every time I started to write, I scrapped the topic. Now as I write this, I have 40 minutes until August first. Seeing as baseball has just returned )but may be in limbo) I've decided to release this never before seen piece I started writing after the 2016 world series. It's a bit long, but a pandemic is going on so what else are you really doing anyway? Just note that the "he" in the below story is referring to me. 

For the Love of the Indians

November 3^rd 2016. He was bundled up and walking down the cold and blustery streets of downtown Cleveland. His hands were crammed into his pockets and he walked with haste. He kept pushing them against the inner lining, hoping they would go deeper, even though he knew his efforts were useless. He turned 26 yesterday. But there was no feeling of celebration today. Not even the people he passed on the streets seemed in a great mood. Maybe the frigid air added to it, but even without it, there was no joy to be found in Cleveland.

July 3^rd, 2007. He was at his third game of the season. He was only 16 years old. His love for the Indians had not yet blossomed, but little did he know it would on this very night. The Indians had a strong season and were on the edge of clinching a playoff spot. But first they had to face a familiar foe. The Detroit Tigers. Because both teams were in playoff contention and the two cities aren’t that far apart, a number of Tiger fans had infiltrated Jacobs field in hopes that their team would come out victorious. The Tigers led most of the game, but in front of a pumped crowd, the Indians forced extra innings. Then in the 11^th inning, Casey Blake came to the plate. The pitcher slung a ball that any batter would love. Casey took a mighty swing and didn’t miss. Two run moonshot. Game over. In that moment, he became an Indians die hard fan. Win or lose.

October 21, 2007. His beloved Indians had made it to game 7 of the ALCS. One win away from their first World Series appearance in 10 years. They were facing the historic Boston Red Sox. Like the Cubs, they had a curse as well. But they ended theirs three years prior, winning the 2004 World Series. The Indians at one point had a 3-1 series lead, but they allowed Boston to battle back and force a game 7. Boston took that redemption and never looked back. They pounded the Tribe and sent them home. They then went on to sweep the Rockies in the World Series to win their second crown in three years. Their manager was a guy by the name of Terry Francona.

Year 2008 and 2009. For him, the dream of winning a world series was beginning to fade. The Indians couldn’t replicate the success of 2007. They slowly began to crumble. He watched in agony as stupendous players such as CC Sabathia, Cliff Lee, Jake Westbrook, Victor Martinez, Jhonny Peralta, and even the mighty Casey Blake were traded for young prospects. The sting of losing after coming close was real and it wouldn’t go away for a long time.

April 2013. Baseball season has just begun and excitement has returned to the 216. He didn’t know then what a single off-season move the Indians had made would change the course of his beloved team for years to come. The move in question was their hiring a new manager. His name? Terry Francona. The same man who broke Boston’s curse and led them to not one, but two world series championships. Change was coming, but not even he was prepared for what was to come.

Summer 2013. He followed avidly. Listening to Tom Hamilton call nearly every game on the radio. That man has the best home run call in all of baseball. He finds himself at a game versus the Seattle Mariners. The game is exciting and the crowd is intense. The game is tied in the ninth. There are two men on and young and upcoming second baseman Jason Kipnis is up to bat. The pitcher stares him down. Then in a fiery throw launches a rocket towards the plate. A cylindrical piece of wood mashes a tiny spherical orb and sends it into the seats. The crowd explodes. Kipnis hits his first walk-off homer of his career. Good things are happening at the corner of Carnegie and Ontario.

September 19^th 2013. His spirits are high. The Tribe is close to a wild card berth. But 10 games stand between them. Five days later and the Indians are on a six game winning streak. He’s in his room listening intently to the radio as if it holds all the answers. Bottom of the 9^th. The Indians are down by one to the Chicago White Sox. Two outs. One man one base. Trusted skipper Terry Francona makes a move. He sends in a pinch hitter by the name of Jason Giambi. Giambi was a legend in his younger years, but now he’s a shell of his former glory days. Hammy’s voice comes over the radio waves talking about Giambi’s walk off home run verses the White Sox earlier in the season. He also mentions that Giambi is in a bit of a slump and might be due. As those words left Tom’s lips, magic happens. Giambi smokes a walk-off two run shot to win the game. In his room he’s jumping up and down and begins to tear through his house in celebration. Jacob’s field was going nuts. The old man came through when they needed him the most. Tom Hamilton’s call of that home run will live in history.

October 2^nd 2013. The Indians won their last 10 games to clinch the top wild card seed. Their first return to the playoffs in six years. Jacob’s field was packed to the gills, hoping to see the Indians be victorious. Sadly, there was no joy here as they fell 4-0 and were sent packing. Disappointment hit him hard, but he wasn’t crushed because hope had come back to Cleveland.

June 19th 2014. He had a summer internship but was granted the day off to go witness the Indians battle the Angels at the Jake during an afternoon game. The Indians hadn’t been looking too hot, but that wasn’t going to prevent him from attending the game. Rain, on the other hand, may have. It was forecasted to hit around game time, but currently it was sunny with a few gray clouds moseying along. There were a lot of empty seats in the stands which was expected. The game was a pitchers’ duel with each team scoring one run. At the end of the required 9 innings, the game was still at a draw. Then, in the 10^th, the Angels added 2 runs. At this point, doom was certain for the Tribe. No more runs scored and to the bottom of the 10^th they went. The Indians slowly began to put men on base, but at a price. They loaded the bases but notched two outs and hometown favorite Nick Swisher was up to bat. The Indians gave up quite a bit to acquire him. He was getting paid slightly north of 10 million a year and they had to give a high draft pick to those awful Yankees. And in his second year of the contract, he was not playing well at all. Swisher stepped to the plate and was seemingly the last hope. Hope might not mount too much because Swisher was 0-4 and already down to his last strike. Those left at the Jake were on their feet, screaming and cheering for a miracle. The Angel’s pitcher got the sign and let the ball fly. Fastball. Right down the middle. A gift. And Swisher didn’t hesitate. Suddenly, the crowd exploded as the white blur landed in the lower deck over the fence. A walk off grand slam! He was feeling like he had just won a million bucks. He forwent a day’s paycheck for a noon game with the threat of rain and witnessed something magical. He’ll never forget this moment.

August 8^th, 2015. After the Indians fell short of the playoffs in 2014, they were battling to get in again. He decided he was going to give his friend a birthday gift of Indians tickets. The day was pleasant and the Tribe was facing the Twins. From the first inning on, the Tribe’s bats were cooking. They were smoking balls over the place. Then, in the 7^th inning, with ducks on the pond, a journeyman by the name of Jerry Sands was up to bat. The Indians had been riddled with injuries and he was one of the many fill-ins. He had hit a couple home runs in his debut earlier in the season and because of this, the fans liked to chant “Jerry! Jerry!” which was based off Jerry Springer’s daytime show. The Indians were already pummeling the Twins and Jerry wasn’t going to go easy. Crack! That ball was gone in the blink of an eye. The journeyman added to the show and rewarded the sell-out crowd with a grand slam. In back-to-back years, this die-hard Indians fan got to witness a grand slam live and he was loving every minute of it.

April 2016. The Indians failed to make the October dance for the second year in a row. But baseball was back in Cleveland and from the beginning, the feel was different. There was something in the air that hinted that great things were going to happen in Cleveland this year. April wasn’t proof of that because the Tribe hung around .500 through the month, but he, being a lover of the game knew there was a lot of baseball left.

July 1st, 2016. Before, the Indians were battling for the division lead, but now they had it and were going for history. They had just won 13 straight and tied the franchise record for consecutive wins. Only the Toronto Blue Jays stood in their way. He had his portable radio on as he worked on a renovation project. Nine innings passed and the score was still knotted up. Ten innings. Twelve. Fifteen. Eighteen. This grueling duel seemed it would never end. Then, in the bottom of the 19^th, Indians first baseman Carlos Santana stepped up to the plate. The pitcher released the ball and Santana smoked it over the fence. Game over. The Indians had made history.

September 26, 2016. His spirits were high. His beloved Indians were one win away from clinching the division. All they had to do was beat their long-time rivals the Detroit Tigers. They didn’t disappoint. Carlos Santana, the 14 game streak hero caught the final out. The Indians had clinched the division. He was ecstatic. It had been ten years since he last saw the Indians do accomplish this feat. October baseball was back in Cleveland.

October 6, 2016. The playoffs had begun. He had secured two tickets for ALDS game one at Jacob’s Field. Indians vs. Red Sox. The playoff atmosphere was crazy. It was unlike anything he’d experienced before. And all it did was get better. Red Sox ace Rick Porcello Vs. Indians Trevor Bauer.

Bottom of the 3^rd, the score was tied 1-1. Back-up catcher Roberto Perez was up to bat. Not much of a hitter, he got a pitch he liked and mashed it. 2-1 Tribe. Santana up next and he grounds out. Fan favorite Jason Kipnis faces Porcello. Crack! That ball is gone! 3-1 Tribe. The stadium is rocking. Porcello is sweating. The Indians young SS and best player Fransisco Lindor is up next. Porcello delivers a meatball and the crowd rises as the ball sails over the fence. Jacobs field was beyond nuts. The biggest party of the year was happening at the corner of Carnagie and Ontario. Party king himself, Mike Napoli, is next. He crushes the first pitch out of the park...but foul. If it was fair, no one would be going to work the next day. It gets tense, but the Tribe holds on for a 5-4 victory.

               October 10, 2016. Game three of the ALDS. Indians lead the series 2-0. They traveled to Fenway Park for game 3. It was close and tense, but the Tribe finished off the Red Socks and sent the mighty David Ortiz into retirement.

               October 19, 2016. It was game five of the ALCS. A few days before, he had been at Cedar Point for Hallow Weekends. He walked through the haunted maze, but was unfazed as Tom Hamilton’s voice was in his ear calling the game. The Indians won that game and now they had 3-1 lead looking to send the Blue Jays home. Due to injuries, the Indians had to use a young pitcher by the name of Ryan Merritt to start the game. Big mouth Bautista (Jose Bautista) of the Jays said Merritt was going to be shaking in his boots. He watched as Merritt pitched a dandy of 4 2/3 innings and not allowing a run. Bautista ate crow and the Tribe was headed to the World Series for the first time since 1997.

              

November 2^nd 2016. Today is his birthday, but that isn’t important to him right now. His eyes were glued to the TV. It is showing Game 7 of the World Series. The Chicago Cubs verses the Cleveland Indians. Two teams that hadn’t won a championship in a combined 176 years. The former was expected to finally end their drought. The latter wasn’t considered to make it out of the first round of the playoffs. But here they were. One game away from what few thought could be done. But hope was fading as the Indians had trailed all game and were down two runs in the 8^th. Rajai Davis, who was known for his speed and not for his bat, was at the plate. He was facing the toughest closer that year in Aroldis Chapman who the cubs paid a steep price to acquire for just three months. Then, as if someone was beginning to write a fairy tale ending, Davis swung and sent that ball over the fence. He leapt of his couch with a mighty roar. Outside his house, cheers could be heard all over. The Indians had tied the game! The adrenaline was flowing and hope returned. Then the rain came. The game was paused until it passed. When play resumed, the Cubs tacked on two more runs. Disappointment set in, but hope was not lost. The Indians came to bat and added one more themselves…but that was all they got. The Cubs flooded the field in celebration. Their curse was broken. Their drought was over. He sat there in silence, the joy left as quickly as it came. There would be no championship for his beloved Indians. All he could do was wait six months and hope for the magic to happen once again.

Tackle Box

My love for fishing began when my age was still in single digits. It didn't happen on a whim. It didn't happen by chance. It was sparked when my grandfather on mother's side came to visit us all the way from Wisconsin. He told me he had something for me. It was a small clear tackle box filled with hooks, jigs, and rubber baits. He explained what they were for and told me next time I came to Wisconsin, he'd show me how to use them. Well that time came soon after. 

Like most kids my age who went fishing, I had a closed reel snoopy pole. It was mustard yellow and that was fine with me. One of the days we were visiting, he took me to a lake with the tackle he gave me and some live earthworms we pulled out of the ground. He then showed me how to bait the hook and cast it. It wasn't long before I was pulling in decent size sunfish that my younger self thought were trophy fish. Between me and the fish, I can't tell you who was hooked more that day. 

As the years turned, my fishing days were here and there, but the best ones came in Wisconsin. As I got older, I needed better gear. So I saved allowance money and eventually bought myself a reasonable sized blue tackle box with one fold up tray. I put all my lures, bobbers, hooks, and sinkers in it. But it was still a bit empty for its size. My grandfather on my dad's side, had a bunch of fishing equipment he didn't use anymore and without my asking, gave a lot of it to me one day. I added them to my collection and it wasn't long before I started using them. My favorite was a black and gray minnow swim bait. I'll never forget the moment when a wild young northern pike attacked it. The rush of the swift fight and the thrill that a lure my grandfather had given me bagged a fiery northern was a once in a lifetime moment.

As I aged, my knowledge and passion for fishing grew. I had reached the point where I needed a bigger tackle box. One day while I was doing renovation work on a church property, I was asked if I wanted fishing gear that was left behind and long forgotten years ago. One of the items was a big green tackle box. I didn't need to see it to say yes, but the timing couldn't have been more perfect. As soon as I got it home, I placed all the lures both my grandfathers gave me as well as whatever else I acquired through the years inside. I beamed with pride upon putting the last lure in its place. This is my treasure chest.

Many of these lures have tales to tell. But some also didn't make it as they were lost to fish whose will to live outlasted the strength of the line. While many may look at the above photos and just see a bunch of fancy lures for a hobby that requires patience and time, this box and it's contents mean so much more than that.

Around this time one year ago, I was scrolling through Facebook as I do more than I'd care to admit, and I came across a post from a Luke Bryan page. And in the comments, someone mentioned a song by him that I had heard once before years ago, but didn't really pay attention to the lyrics or even recall it existed. The song is called Tackle Box and it came out in 2007. I gave it a listen. By the time it was over, I must've acquired a rogue allergy because my eyes were no longer dry. Here are the lyrics:

"It was two shades of brown and scratched up plastic

It held extra line, lures, hooks, and matches

And his last name engraved in black

Right there by the handle on the top

I'd slide it out of the back of his station wagon

Lug it down the bank with my arm draggin'

And I could hardly wait for him

To lift the lid on that tackle box

'Cause I'd sail with him across the South Pacific

Stand beside him on the bow of that battle ship

See him kiss the ground and thank the good Lord Jesus

And watch him run to grandma, cryin' on the dock

He opened up, every time he opened up

That old tackle box

He'd bait my hook and keep on tellin' stories

'Bout nickel cokes, girls, and sandlot glories

Pickup trucks and peanut fields

Long before this town knew blacktop

I was almost ridin' with him shotgun down those dirt roads

Takin' turns on a jug of homemade shine

As he raced his buddies down through Mason Holler

Fillin' the sky with dust and kicked up rocks

He opened up, every time he opened up

That old tackle box

He's been gone twenty years tomorrow

And I'm still holdin' on to this one wish

That God above would let me borrow grandpa

For one more afternoon and one more fish

And I'd sail with him across the South Pacific

Stand beside him on the bow of that battle ship

See him kiss the ground and thank the good Lord Jesus

And watch him run to grandma, cryin' on the dock

He opened up, every time he opened up

That old tackle box

Yeah, sure I love

Every time he opened up

That old tackle box"

My grandfather on my dad's side had passed two weeks prior to me hearing this song. And it was all so raw and real. This song not only described him but my grandfather on my mom's side who had passed
14 years prior. As mentioned in a previous post, my dad's dad was in the navy during WWII. My mom's dad drove stock cars way back in the day, right around the time NASCAR was being formed. And both men taught and gave me the love for fishing I possess to this very day. In a way, I'm glad my 16 year old self didn't pay attention to this song because it means so much more to me now than it ever would've at any other time. So whenever I find myself chasing the fish that make for great tales one day, you better believe that tackle box is going to be right beside me. Every time I open it up, the memories of two of the greatest men I've ever known live on.

DAY 30: Into the Sunset

When I started this series, I intended to do it 30 straight days in a row. But I knew myself and I knew I wasn't going to be able to go thirty days in a row. The last thing I wanted was to promise 30 days and not finish. And believe it or not, this is a problem with me. I have a folder on my laptop dedicated to writings I started but never finished. This blog has a ton of drafts that I never published because as I wrote them, I hit a block in my thoughts and never finished them. Now they just sit in blog jailed pretty outdated and not really relevant anymore. Even this crazy vlog I decided to create. I have footage I took that I intended to use but never did. To the rest of the world, that's not an issue as they didn't know those things existed...until now. And they are constant reminders of how many things I start but never complete.

With this post, I put the first nail in that coffin. I pondered what photo to place here. The very last one. Day 30. I had some ideas, but to me, they just didn't quite fit the mold I was shaping. Then I remembered that in my vastly large folder of sunset photos (I'm darn proud of every single one too), this photo existed. It was taken at that same cabin on the lake in Vermilion that I loved and miss so much. And during this time, a nasty storm rolled through. If you've never lived by an ocean or an incredibly large body of water, you won't quite understand the rogue storms that brew off them. It was depressing because bad weather at the cabin usually ruined the experience...

...but here in this brief moment, something miraculous happened. The storm broke for a few minutes. The sky opened slightly to reveal that every welcoming sun. And so I captured this moment forever. Every time I look at this photo, it reminds me that no matter what storm rages, no matter what darkness conceals my joy, that the sun is still there, shining behind it all. There have been a lot of storms this year and there still may be more to come. But they too shall pass and the sun will keep on shining. 

I hope y'all had as much fun reading these as I did creating them. Pictures say a lot and keep many amazing memories alive. And being able to allow people into that piece of my world is truly an honor. Stay strong. Stay well. Laugh. Live. And most importantly...Love.

Day 29: The Three Amigos

Yes this is the same Vermilion beach that I portrayed in the fire/sunset picture early on in this series. And yes these are the same dudes who dressed up in viking outfits for a viking-style game at a summer youth conference, which was also portrayed in another picture post way back in 2017. And this picture completes the trifecta of pictures of the three of us in ridiculous poses throughout the years. The reason this one makes the list is because it portrays us so well. And it's hard to imagine what my life in Ohio would be like without them in it.

The guy on the far right with his arm raised in the air is Jeremiah Johnson. He was among the first people I met of my age when I moved to Ohio. We became incredibly fast friends. A little less than a year later, Mark, the one in the middle, moved back to Ohio. He became another close friend and pretty soon we were a trio. 

I could spend days telling you stories of what I've been through with these guys, the crazy, insane, slightly foolish, and fun things we've done. That may only scratch the tip of the iceberg. Just looking at this photos sends those memories flooding back. I mean heck, we practically lived at each other's houses for a few summers. 

Life and adulting have caused us to see less of each other these days and Jer is married and has a munchkin of his own, but that doesn't separate what we are and we still find ways to do things together. 

This photo in a way encapsulates this friendship. Just three dudes on a beach, at sunset, hands full of miniature explosives, carefree and loving life. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Day 28: Friends Make the Memories

PC: Sarah Mann

This picture I had printed out and framed. I don't have a wife, kids, or dog, so it's been the one that sits on my desk at work. Before quarantine, I saw it every day. And it put a smile on my face every time.

Most of us in this photo didn't live in the same city and some not even the same country. We all came together for our annual church conference over the Labor Day weekend. One of my favorite things about those conferences were moments like this. Where after a long day, we all wanted to do something together. In this case we went to get ice cream. And it's truly something wonderful that being able to see and be with all these lovely people that makes my heart melt. 

Have you ever tried to take a large group photo? If so, you know how painful it can be. We took multiple for this one, but this was my favorite. Simply because someone said that we should be funny. Not everyone got the memo which makes it funny in itself. It also cracks me up how Tim, Zane, and Peter decided to do a pointing motion and they all managed to point in different directions. And here's another fun fact. Three different sets of people in this photo were not even engaged to each other when this photo was taken, but now are all happily married.

It's still images like this that remind me why friends, and friends a plenty, can make my world be that much better.

I Made a Mistake

Mistakes. They're unavoidable. I say this in the terms that you can't go through life without making them. Sure individually many can be avoided. You probably don't even realize how many things you do each day that causes you to miss making mistakes. For the ones you can't avoid, you have two options. Option 1: Learn from them. By learning how and why they happened and actually accepting fault, you will grow wiser and greatly lessen the chance of it happening again.

So what did I do? I made it look like a small meteor hit the front of my car. I rear-ended someone. It was at a stop-light and I did it from a stopped position so no one was hurt and the car I hit had barely any visible damage. It was strange how it all happened. My mind was wandering with many thoughts. Mostly about safe driving a near misses I had. I kid you not. That's what I was thinking about before my error. Here's how it went.

I was at a stop light in a right turn only lane. Only one car in front of me. The car in front of me had the clear and began to accelerate and make the right turn on red. The speed and the distance they drove convinced my mind that they were going to clear the intersection. I checked my left to make sure no cars were coming. None were. I turned my head to the middle to make sure no cars were turning left from the other direction and the moment I saw none were, I tapped the gas...and heard a thunk. My heart sank. How in the world did that happen? Two reasons. The first is that the driver in front of me second-guessed themselves and stopped beyond the white line and slightly in my blind spot from the right from where I was looking. The second is that I didn't fully check to make sure they were gone. And that second reason alone makes it totally my fault. 

My mind was going nuts. Are the other people okay? How much damage did I do? How much is this going to cost? What's the emotional status going to be of the people in the other car? Why did a day that was finally going well for me turn bad so fast? 

I stepped out of my car and looked at the damage. It was more than I expected, but thankfully, my headlights went unscathed and I could still open my hood. The other driver got out and didn't say anything. I asked if they were okay. They looked at the damage on their car and then on mine. The driver then made a phone call. After the call, the driver looked at their car again and told me it's okay. I couldn't believe what I just heard so I asked them if they were sure. The driver inspected the damage again which was simply a small dent with a mark. They told me it was fine again and I asked if they wanted my information or anything. They didn't feel like it was worth the trouble and that I had made an honest mistake. The driver said "God Bless", got back in their car and drove off.

While it was still a bitter pill to swallow, it was also a small blessing. The people in the car I hit could've torn my head off. They could've contacted the insurance company and make it sound worse than it was. There were so many things that could've gone wrong. But in the end, I end up not getting hurt and hurting no one, I was left with a bruised car and a bruised ego. And mercy was shown to me. 

I debated writing this post because when I look back through these, I didn't want to remember this incident. But part of learning from one's mistakes is knowing why they happened so one doesn't repeat that process. From now on, you better believe that no matter how far or fast a car in front of me moves, I'm going to take more time to check and make sure they are completely gone. It also shows that no matter how much experience I have at something, I'm still human, which means I am flawed and prone to making mistakes. More will come, but I can better myself now, learn from past errors, and be better prepared to face what's next, or maybe, just maybe, avoid a catastrophic one.

Day 27: Summer Camp Squad

Every summer since 2004, I have been involved with a Christian summer youth event we call Mountain Top. It's 3-4 packed days of activities, music, doing things as a group, and intense meetings called power sessions. This photo was taken from 2018. Ever since I've been old enough to lead a group, I usually get a wild bunch of high school boys. Most of the ones you see in this photo have been in my group the past few years and have just graduated high school. 

This photo makes me smile for many reasons. We are all trying to be serious in ridiculous shirts. Shirts that I didn't even want to get. I don't wear purple well. And that shirt is a size small which is way too small for me. Oh and it cost $17 dollars. So why go through all the trouble?

You see, the conference was held at a college in Ohio called Kenyon College. We've been here before many times in the past. So the boys knew the souvenir shop well. It all began when Jake (middle of couch) wanted to get a shirt that said "Kenyon Dad" just for the fun of it. The store did not have any of those. However, they did have the shirts we were wearing. Kenyon sounds awful close to the African country of Kenya. And I can bet that Kenyon college students get annoyed explaining all the time that they go to school in Ohio and not Africa. Anyways, some of the boys thought it would be funny to get this shirt. I told them I don't care, but I'm not spending that much on a shirt I'm probably never gonna wear again. Then they said "What if we all do it?" I still wasn't keen on the idea, but the thought of it being a good bonding experience and how hilarious it would be was something I couldn't say no to only if everyone in the group did it. So we did. 

For that entire day, people from the conference kept seeing us and wondered why there were this many of us wearing these goofy shirts. We stood out, got complimented, and really looked like a squad. This photo is a reminder of that event in 2018 and all the good times we had. It will also never let me forget that gave in to spending $17 on a shirt too small, representing a college I never went to, and probably won't ever wear again. 

Day 26: All in One Shot

PC: Tim Watkins

When I'm reminiscing on our Wisconsin vacations, this photo sometimes pops into my head. It may not look like much from first glance, but it really tells a lot. 

First, it portrays a typical day on the lake. It's mid afternoon, calm, and hot. I'm dock fishing and Nathaniel is coming back from kayak fishing. But there's more going on here. You see Nathaniel is in long sleeves and has a big goofy sunhat on. Normally he fishes shirtless, but the sun did him in pretty well so he's covered up in the heavy heat. That kayak he's sitting in, it was hauled out here on the roof of his 2012 Ford Focus...stick shift. Google a the car and picture how obnoxious that looks. Him and I are just shootin' the breeze. Literally.

But the real reason I'm including this photo is for something in it that may not easily be noticed. If you take a careful look at the tree to the left of me, you'll see a wild Stephen poking at something in it. You see not long before we left for Wisconsin, Stephen decided to buy himself a new toy. A drone. This day was the first time he flew it all week. And the one tree he really could've crashed it into...he did. And this photo catches him reaching up and trying to poke it free with a stick. Just the thought of this photo cracks me up. That's why it makes this list.

Day 25: A Sunset Down Under

  

Yup, another photo taken in Australia made the list. I have a load of sunset photos. They're one of my favorite things to capture in time forever. So when we were on the ferry back from Watson's Point and I saw how majestic the scene was, I took out my phone and pressed the capture button 10+ times. I actually didn't know how these looked until I viewed them later because the sun was so bright. 

Out of all the ones I took, this one made it because it has the edge of the ferry for perspective, part of the Sydney skyline, the Harbor Bridge, and the sun setting over the Pacific all in one shot. And it's also shots like this that make me love traveling that much more. In due time it'll happen again. 

Day 24: An All-Star Experience

I love baseball. That's a fact. And I miss it. That's also a fact. Years ago I told myself that if I have opportunities to do incredible things, don't hesitate, just do it. So when I first heard the MLB All-Star game was coming to Cleveland, I knew I was going. And I didn't just buy tickets for that game. I bought them for the whole 3 day package. The tickets were pricey, but it was well worth it. It's an experience I'd gladly pay for again.

Just being able to look at this picture warms my heart. A summer night. A packed Progressive Field. The best in baseball were gathered in the 216. The roar of the crowd. One of the best home run derbys I've ever seen. And a once in a lifetime moment. And I seized it.

Day 23: Smooth Sledding

    PC: Amy Wolfinbarger

For a number of year, our church youth group would go tobogganing at the Chalet in Strongsville, OH. We'd rent the place out and make a morning of it. Even if there wasn't snow on the ground, the chutes had their own ice so you could still soar down.

It was more than just sledding. There were competitions to see who could get to the bottom first, who could make the most rides in the time we had, and who could go the farthest. The latter used to be the most fun as we'd pack the four biggest people we could find and see how far past the end of the chute we could make it. Because you see, the chutes had brake pads as the bottom meant to keep you from going off the chute if possible. Well if you paid attention in Physics class, you'll recall that Force=mass*acceleration or F=ma. And you'll also recall that you had to calculate a bunch of different forces depending on what you were solving for. One of them was friction. And those rubber pads caused a lot of friction. So in order to overcome that friction, a bigger mass meant a bigger force, meant a better chance of overcoming that pesky friction. Our theory worked many times over and we managed to go well off the chutes. In the later years, we seemed to not be able to that anymore. Probably because the Chalet saw it as a liability issue and installed brake pads with a way better friction factor...darn.

I like this photo a lot for a number of reasons. 1) It is a high quality action shot. 2) It portrays in a single frame what that day usually meant to those who went. 3) It's hilarious. 4) Asher (the guy in front of me) and I decided it would be funny to scream like little children in mortal danger, hence our gaping mouths.

Due to timing and a number of other reasons, we haven't done this in awhile. But this photo will always serve as a reminder of those chilly, but fun days.

Day 22: Bros and the NYC Skyline

    PC: Jenny Yu

Yet another photo taken at Sam and Mindy's NYC Wedding in 2016 makes this list. As mentioned before, seeing the NYC skyline for the first time was an exciting moment in my life. So when we saw the wedding venue had a sweet view of it, we knew we had to take this picture. A bunch of finely dressed gents, celebrating our good friend's wedding, with the legendary NYC skyline in the background. There were a slew of pictures taken at this spot, many uncoordinated, some silly, but this one's my favorite.

Day 21: The Reunion

    PC: Maureen Anderson

I was home schooled until the 7th grade. When I moved to Cleveland in 2003, I was put into a public school for the first time. It was a transition I wasn't ready for. But thanks to some very awesome teachers, an outstanding principal, and a cool bunch of kids I became friends with, my last two years in jr. high were pretty fun.

Now I wrote a blog post about this before and I'm pretty sure I used this picture, but that was forever ago. And in case you don't remember, this was our 10 year reunion from graduating to high school. Now I know what you're thinking...who does that? We do! And it was all thanks to the guy in the green shirt in the lower right corner. Matt Simonson. He organized, planned, and set up the whole thing.

This photo embodies the fond memories I have of that night. Our former teachers and principal showed up. People came from out of state to be here. People I never thought I'd see again appeared and we picked up right where we left off. An evening where I knew not what to expect turned into a memorable one. I'll let the photo do the rest of the talking.

Day 20: Symbol of Freedom

I'm proud of this photo. Because it has many meanings to me. The American Bald Eagle has been my favorite animal long before I pledged my allegiance to the football team in Philadelphia. So when I had an opportunity to photograph one in the wild, it was anything but easy.

As mentioned previously, my family goes to Wisconsin every other year. Out in the farm country, you tend to see a lot of wildlife you don't see in the city. Well one sunny afternoon, me and my brother Nathaniel were fishing from a paddle boat in the middle of the lake right next to my Aunt's house. As we were trying to hook some largemouth bass, we looked up and saw three of these beautiful creatures soaring overhead. I watched as they perched in the trees that lined the shore. I told Nathaniel that we had to stop chasing the bass for a moment so I could get a photo.

We paddled the boat ever so slowly, to the point where we lodged it in a sea of lily pads. The great bird held a pose and didn't budge. I zoomed in my shot and pressed the button. I was so thrilled I managed to pull that off because seconds later, the eagle moved to a different part of the tree before taking flight again.

But the story doesn't end there. A day or so later, while fishing from the paddle boat again, I lost my balance standing up and went head first into the lake...with my camera in my pocket. Being a complete noob I tried to turn it on. Yeah that didn't work. I thought it was shot. I let it dry out (didn't know about the rice trick then) and it did eventually turn on, but the memory card showed no data. I was crushed.

About a week after we got home, being the tinkerer that I am, I played with the camera again, hoping for a miracle. As I turned it on, I did not see the blue screen of "No data." Suddenly, all those photos I thought were gone forever came flooding back, including this one. I started hollering so loud, you'd think I won the lottery. This picture was proof of triumph for me and I still see it as one of my best "in the moment" shots. National Geographic ain't got nutin' on me!

Day 19: Notorious D.I.G.

    PC: Grace Wang

As much as I love watching sports, I love, love, love to play them. Beach volleyball is a secret passion of mine. There's something about being out in the summer sun, getting a little sandy, and going airborne for a monster spike that feels so satisfying.

Grace Wang (dead center) was living in Cleveland at the time (this was 2015) and got the urge to play organized beach volleyball. She knew I'd be down so once she reached out, she didn't have to ask twice. Now a few of us on the team had actually played on competitive squads before and the rest of us who hadn't, had some sort of raw talent. So even though we didn't know the competition, we felt pretty good.

We were pretty dominant in our run and maybe only lost two sets if I recall correctly. But we did it with a different team nearly every week. We had players who were listed on our squad but were limited as to when they played. Sometimes we were even short a person and called upon someone's most available friend.

We made the upper end of the playoffs, but our first playoff set was incredibly rocky. We only had five people and no matter how hard we tried, we couldn't get a sixth. So we played those games a man down. Our first game wasn't a blowout, but we still suffered a crushing defeat and were staring elimination in the face. We weren't going to let the season end like this, so we rallied hard and dominated the second game. I think the other team had underestimated us and now knew that even one short, we were trouble.

The third and final game was very close and both teams fought tooth and nail. But like David verses Goliath, we pulled out the W and were on to the next round. Going into it, we knew we were going to be facing teams who could be considered borderline professional. And the team we faced were pretty darn near close.

We had a full squad going against them, but simply put, we got smoked. We did fight as if our lives depended on it, but we were no match for an ace server, a very unselfish setter, and a team full of high flying spikers.

Was I disappointed? Duh. But that weekly league, with these wonderful people, was one of the big highlights of my summer. And if I ever forgot everything else from the summer of 2015, this photo will serve as a reminder of what a blast it was.