Song for my Niece

Hey big brother, stop watching that TV.  Come outside and play with me.  We could hunt for lizards or hang from a tree.  Oh please stop staring at that silly screen. 

Come on big brother, shoot hoops with me.  We could play around the world, starting from the key, or just good ol’ H.O.R.S.E. 

Oh hurry up big brother, the sun won’t stay! Don't ignore such a beautiful day. Throw those shoes on your feet, get off that ol' seat and come outside to play!

Hello Brown Bear

"Hello Brown Bear, Whatcha think'n?"


Go away Red Squirrel, I'm only sleep'n.  


"Wake up Brown Bear, I wanna play!"  


Go away Red Squirrel, not today.  

"Wake up Brown Bear, I'm tired of wait'n!" 


Go away Red Squirrel, I'm hibernat'n.  


"Wake up Brown Bear, ya need to eat!"


Goodbye Red Squirrel, ya tasty treat.

Weather Report

I heard yesterday that San Francisco is expecting snow this weekend. I enjoyed imagining the predictable chaos: Massive gridlock. Prii smash into Passats (four days ago, Toyota, using the might of its international team of engineers and wordsmiths, finally decided how to pluralize Prius). Skinny vanilla lattes spill across khaki pants and pre-faded jeans. Kids revolt against the city, armed with snowballs and runny noses. Snowmen fornicate in the streets as Vespa’s slip and slide by.

The sun woke me up the next morning. No sign of a North Coast snow flurry. I crawled out of bed, brewed some coffee, brushed my teeth, and dressed for an early run. Walking outside was like stepping into a freezer. It took my breath away. A big black cloud loomed over the marsh. Better start moving. The sky began to drizzle as the trail neared. The drizzle turned to hail. The hail turned to snow. Large, white, dry flakes of snow! I could hardly believe it. I zoned out while watching snow fall into the ocean. Away from the city, running through trails, it felt as though home had come to visit. I thought of my brother, snowed in with the kiddos. I imagined his reaction when our parents brought me home for the first time. What a strange thing, to meet a sibling – your partner in crime, your alibi, your apprentice, your sidekick for life.  I thought of my parents.  My Dad painting in his studio, next to a space-heater, Van Morrison singing out of key.  My mom baking cupcakes and chatting with Heather while Bailey snores on the couch.   

My stomach began to rumble. My thoughts turned to breakfast as the rain returned. I caught site of a burned out hippie peeing behind bushes, bringing me back to Earth, back to Arcata.  Nevada County, thanks for the visit. Come back anytime.

Aleksander Doba

A co-worker recently said to me: "Love is too big to control.  Just float with the motion of the ocean and you'll end up together if it's meant to be."  A few days later I read the story of Alexsander Doba.  


Doba recently completed the longest open-water crossing ever by a kayaker - at age 64.  3,320 miles.  It took him 99 days.  Doba spent the majority of the first two months battling abnormally brutal currents and winds.  Storms kept him awake all night, pounding his little kayak.  He compared it to being stuck in a floating coffin - pitch black, death howling all around him, completely alone and terrified.  When the storms broke and the currents were in his favor, he'd paddle hard to make the most of the momentum.  When they turned against him, Doba would give the horizon a fierce stare. He'd grip his paddle tight and battle the mighty Atlantic with all his will.  Two weeks before finishing, he wrote to his loved ones:  "I'm very tired. I dream to finally finish, wherever it will be. I'm afraid that the south winds push me so I have to paddle for many days. No! I want dry land as soon as possible." 


 Is Doba a little crazy? Sure.  Would he be better off floating with "the motion of the ocean"- ending up wherever he happened to land? Would he be happier? Probably.  But some love stories deserve a Doba-like effort.  Forget the ocean, it ain't that big.  Forget the sail and forget the motor.  Just give me a paddle, a kayak, and a huge hug in 99 days.  

The Loneliness Monster

The Loneliness Monster lives in my apartment. She wasn’t invited and doesn’t pay rent.  I swear she’s there but no one believes me. “Could it be in your head, maybe?”  She hides in my closet and under my bed. I wish she’d live with someone else, instead.  I've tried to ignore her. I’ve asked her to go. I’ve drank and toiled and sank so low.  The time has come to throw her butt out - it’s time for me to win!  The Loneliness Monster has moved in..

I’ve defeated her before and I’ll do it again.

A River Runs Through It

As Ol' Man Winter continues to weaken and wither away, my mind wanders off into camp sites, lakes, rivers, and mountains.  My body is eager to join it.  I am determined to fish more this year.  Humboldt County is one of the finest fishing destinations in the United States.  It is home to the Klamath, Trinity,  Mattole, Eel, Mad, and Van Duzen rivers - each of which experiences major salmon, steelhead, and trout runs.  Humboldt's rugged coast also provides world class surf fishing.  Furthermore, crab fishing off the piers is legal, free, and often very successful.  In addition to reeling in a twelve pound steelhead, I am eager to thrift store shop for vintage fishing equipment.  My tackle box will be incredible.  I am also on the look out for fishing nets, vests, hats, flannel, wading boots, and brightly colored visors.  


If you find me wading into a river, standing firm against its current, notice how my pole will be waving through the air like Beethoven's baton - intensely in-tuned with the rhythms of the river.  The sun will surely be rising over the trees, a low fog lifting.  The 9th symphany and the sounds of running water begin to flow together in perfect harmony.  My pole suddenly jerks towards the waters surface.  A mighty steelhead flashes out from the rapids, just as the sunlight strikes the water and a deep calming voice enters your head and whispers...


"Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it." 


Awesome movie.

Safeway Select Sandwiches

There is only one Safeway employee in Arcata whom I truly trust with my sandwich order. Nothing makes me happier than walking in for a sandwich and seeing her behind the deli. I walk up and order. She is happy and shy, as always. Nerdy in an unattractive way. While waiting, I sample the soups of the day. It’s tomato bisque and potato & bacon. Perfect. She slides my panini into her oven and offers me a slice of pizza – a promotion for Safeway’s own brand. She helps another customer until she hears her oven’s timer go off. She immediately drops what she’s doing and pulls the sandwich out before the bread over cooks. She remembers to cut it in half. She wraps it and rings me up right there at the deli so I won’t have to stand in line. I pay with my card and the register shoots open. It’s a coupon for a free sandwich. 



 Perfect...

Driving Lesson

Advice for driving through a quarter-life crisis:

Keep control of the wheel at all times. Yield only when necessary (detours should piss you off). Remove any bumper stickers that stereotype yourself. Ditch any nay-saying passengers without apology. Keep the car clean and organized - a quality of success. Drive like you know where you are going - like you know what the hell you are doing.  When it storms, slow down and stay alert but do not overcompensate. Pull over for good food, long runs, sunsets and rest. Spontaneity may be the spice of life but do not stray too far from your destination. You are too old to end up in Tijuana without pesos or plans. Speed limits were made to be broken but you better know your own limits because second chances are never guaranteed on the road of life.

Storks and Snowstorms

Storks and snowstorms, babies and brothers. Exciting, frightening, awe-inspiring - like any great storm. Over in a flash. Lucky enough to have received a firm finger squeeze from the star of the show (and the prettiest girl I ever laid eyes on) - something I will never forget.  

Too tired for witty hospital humor or sentimental soft core poetry. Too tired for complete sentences. At this point, I would like nothing more than to rest with e. Tell her she did well. Mumble some corny comment about the sturdy growth of my family tree before drifting into dream land together.  Awake with the sun on our faces, snow on the ground, the storm behind us all.

Congrats to K & A. Happy birthday baby girl. Sweet dreams Ya'll.

Death of a Shoe

I've killed the 3140's. The autopsy report indicates a complete loss of padding along key impact zones. Continued use results in significant leg pain and lousy runs. I feel like I just bought them. Do I need to start budgeting for shoes? Did I really destroy them in two months? Then it occurs to me...


HELL YES I DID.

Letter to Nephew

Happy Birthday Frogster!

Did you have fun at the zoo? Your grandparents helped me send you birthday wishes 21st century style, it made my day. You said you saw monkeys, lions, and pandas? Sounds like you had quite the afternoon. You’ve been the king of the castle during these last few years. The lion, the monkey, the Frog. You have learned and seen so much! You have smashed ice, flown horses, made music, popped corn, and wrestled with mangy beasts. The world has been your stage. But there’s a stork flying your way, kiddo. It’s carrying a precious package that is going to rock your world. Hang in there. This family has plenty of love for the both of you.

P.S. Stay focused! If anyone can reach that darn moon, it’s you J.

Love,

Uncle T

Letter to Niece

Dear Ella,

You are almost ready to meet the world! Darling, do not fear. Northern California is a peaceful place. You have a big brother to keep you entertained. You have wonderful parents to keep him from punching you in the nose. You have lots of silly doggies to pet and happy naps to take. Everything you need has been purchased and prepped. I know your cave is warm and cozy. But let’s not knock fleece, cotton, satin and silk until we’ve tried it k? Come join us love and I’ll meet you soon.

Love,

Uncle T

Runner's Wisdom

Running is a miracle drug. It treats obesity, sleepy libidos, depression, addiction, boredom, anxiety, and writers block. I’d like to see a patient walk into Footlocker with a prescription for trail runners. Use five times a week for fast, effective relief.


There is a certain brand of wisdom that only a runner attains. Can you see it on their faces while you wait for a light to turn green? Their expression: a happy marriage between Bliss and Determination. Running is Meditation’s aggressive sexy cousin. Walkers dismiss this wisdom as a “runner’s high” – simply resulting from a rush of endorphins.


But that’s okay.  Just remember to yield for us.

Dexter

I recently dreamt that I killed someone. I couldn’t remember where I ditched the body. The police were hot on my trail but I woke before they could catch me. Nothing like getting away with murder to start a Friday morning.

I’m taking a break from Dexter. He has too much to lose to keep killing so recklessly. I can’t respect a family man that secretly butchers people in order to scratch an itch. Set your bullshit aside for the sake of your loved ones, Dex. I don’t care if it makes for boring TV. If I can quit smoking cigarettes, you can quit stalking serial killers.

Women with Scarves, Tight Pants, and Trendy Raincoats

Confession:

I love them.  I don’t care if they’re trying too hard.  I like that they watch independent movies and documentaries.  They are hip to current music - they even seek out live music (I’ve always wanted to do that).  They ride old road bikes and dabble with paint. They drink kombucha out of mason jars.  They are the happiest women in the world.  They eat healthy.  They stay in shape.  They shave.  They hike and camp.  They read books.  They mock bottled water.  I am a fan. 

*Just had a thought - yoga classes must be the greatest way to meet these women.  Take Bikram yoga for example:  a small, dimly lit room that has been heated like a sauna.   Lots of water, sweat, spandex, long poses, and wet sports bras. 

Sixteen women and three smart men.  

Hello Folks.

Hello Folks.  My name is Travis but you can call me Sir.  I am 26 years old.  I have survived birth, puberty, high school, and college.  I’ve hiked mountains, crossed deserts, and swam the Pacific.  My body is strong.  Marathons do not intimidate me.  I am funny too.  (no joke). 

I have loved with all my heart and paid the price.  The road to page 26 has been arduous, to say the least - riddled with pot holes & speed bumps, hitch hikers, highway patrol and road kill.  I drove it.  I walked it.  I swam, flew, climbed, and crawled my way to today. 

Where did I arrive you ask? Humboldt County, CA.  The land of redwoods and marijuana.  Hipsters and hillbillies.  Pristine rivers and rugged shores. 

I’d guess a third of my life has passed.  Nevertheless, I’m still captain.  My compass is still trustworthy and true.  I do not doubt it.  I have followed it through San Diego, San Luis Obispo, Colorado, Central America, the Pacific Crest Trail and Arcata.  I am 26 years old.  My dreams have changed.  I now dream of being a father.  Waking up in a home I own and cooking breakfast for the wife I adore.  My compass has changed direction.  It is trying to send me home.