Sweet Al - My Hopeless Romantic

Yes, I’m married to a Hopeless Romantic. My Sweet Al reminded me that it’s April Fool’s Day and our anniversary of fifty-four years. He is still talking about The Bachelor and Juan Pablo. Eight million people watched Juan Pablo kiss and kiss and kiss, then ditch and ditch and ditch. He cried when they left, he wanted them all.

Several of the girls got the hint, and bailed. We thought they were crazy they gave up the muscle-bound with an accent. Now, we’re all praising them for the wisdom they had to retreat. Even Shawn, an ex-bachelor was baffled and his wife said, “Don’t slap the hand that feeds you.” Even his own parents warned the girls, “He’s difficult, are you willing to love him anyway?”

Juan Pablo came to the show as the nicest guy ever and left as the show’s biggest jerk according to the women and the millions who watched the three-hour-on-going Final Rose Ceremony. The confirmed bachelor is not apologizing and says he’s not the bad guy.

As we watched this Reality Show, our conversation went like this, “What did he say? Go back, play it again, did he really say, I’m glad I didn’t pick her?”

 “Poor Clare.”

“She wouldn’t have been right for Camila, anyway, she’s too stuck on herself. She was catty to the other girls.”

We were all against Clare until the Final Date, and then we all wanted her to win. Win Juan Pablo? No. Tell all and walk away. We could only imagine the horrible thing he said to her.

Then there is poor Nikki, the one who got him. We waited for him to pop the question, “Will you marry me?” He wouldn’t. Chris Harrison nailed him to the wall, “Why won’t you tell her you love her? You know this show is about falling in love and getting married.” He wouldn’t budge. Nikki smiled and defended him.

I said, “She’s in love, she got the rose and it’s okay. Whatever Juan Pablo said seemed to be “okay” with her. It’s was his “okay thing” and “that’s nice” and “I’m just being honest,” that got to me.”

“Okay” would grow very thin. Can you imagine spending the next fifty years hearing him say, “It’s okay.” That guy’s a Casanova. When you listen to the girls, you want to believe that he’s a real cad. Then, when you listen to his side of the story, it makes total sense. He can sell you anything and you want to believe him.”

My Sweet Al said, “A person needs to know they’re loved. It isn’t right he won’t tell her he loves her. Juan Pablo is a game player. He doesn’t listen. He doesn’t think he’s doing anything wrong. In fact he’s convinced everyone he’s right.”

“It’s kind of close to home, don’t you think? You’re brother, David, is a game player. Every woman thinks he loves her, and she’s the only one. He leaves them all crying, too. I could tell them he’s not going to marry them, but they wouldn’t listen either.”

Then my Sweet Al reminded me, “I’ve told you every day of our marriage that I love you and I’ve meant it. It just isn’t right he won’t tell Nikkie he loves her.”

“Yes you have, and no it isn’t right. It’s television.”

The producers of the show said there would be a big surprise. We all thought, including Chris Harrison, that Juan Pablo would get down on one knee and pop the question in front of millions. Juan Pablo said the surprise was that him and Nicki were there together.” Now that he said it that was a big surprise.

My son-in-law said the big surprise was she was pregnant, didn’t you see how he kept looking down at her stomach? My daughter said the surprise was that we wasted three hours waiting for no surprise.

I guess that makes sense. He’s actually playing it real on a television reality show. The world doesn’t want him to be real, they want him to play the part, say I love you and pop the question.

Final Brushstroke!

We’ve all got a bet on how long it’s going to last. Juan Pablo said, he wanted their relationship to be private, and after the show they were out of here. I bet after the check is cashed, he bolts. I hope they don’t break up before this goes to press, but then again, I’ll win. But of course, we won’t know, because they’ve gone private in this public love affair.

As for my Sweet Al he has no accent and probably wouldn’t stand under a waterfall on an exotic island with me, but he’s planning an anniversary lunch out Mill Creek Road to our secret get-away and this is all the reality I will ever need.

Black Leather – Life on the fast track!

If I’m lying, I’m dying. Yes, Al’s brother is pushing eighty and is shopping for black leather. I don’t think he’s looking for handcuffs and a whip to go with it, but you never know about him. He’s driving a Harley these days and he says he can’t drive a Harley without wearing black leather. It’s all about presentation with him!

He called the house. He wanted to tell me about Karen, this knock-down, hit-the-wall, gorgeous woman with this out-of-the-world figure. She’s forty-nine pushing fifty. She’s also pushing his standards, he doesn’t date women over fifty.

This was his third date with her, and it might be her last. She has one flaw. Read on!

He said he was waiting at the detention center to drive Karen home. She had to spend the night in jail for drinking too much wine and having too much fun with him. Her bail was set at $6,000, but he only had to pay $600 to bail her out.

Apparently this is the story. He made plans to take Karen to a wine and brunch at a fancy restaurant. His ex-wife, who calls him all the time, wants to keep track of him and what he’s doing. Personally, I don’t understand this kind of relationship. It’s one of those on the track and off the track.

He told his ex-wife he was dating this woman, and he was taking her to this restaurant. He told her, “Don’t show up. I see you all the time at clubs, I don’t bother you, don’t cause trouble with me and this girl.”

He said he knew his ex-wife would show up. She always did. He called the head chef at the restaurant, “If she shows up sit her in the other room away from him and his date.” This must mean, his ex is off the track at the moment.

So this woman had brunch and too much wine. When they left, he pulled out of the parking lot on his Harley and she followed him in her car. The police waited outside the restaurant and pulled her over. They handcuffed her and took her to jail.

I reminded him of that beautiful blond he dated a couple of years ago. At the time she was also dating a cop. He claims the dirty cop was watching for his Lexus and paid-off another cop to pull him over. Al’s brother ended up in jail, paid a fortune to an attorney and he had to do a hundred hours of community service.

He’s had to breathe into a breathalyzer before he could start his car. It was only removed a few months ago. He said, “That why I couldn’t go back and help her. They’ve red-flagged me.”

I sat and listened to him on the phone and was awed at the trouble this man brings to him self, just to stay young, on the track and in the race.

After the conversation on the phone, I told Al that his brother went to Karen’s house and she was wearing shorts. When he looked at her legs he noticed she had wrinkled legs and saggy knees. He said, “It turned him off. He couldn’t help it.”

I said to Al, “Your brother’s got a big problem.”

Al said, “Well, don’t tell him. He doesn’t need to hear that. Every man needs to have hope. That keeps him going.”

This was all very interesting. Saggy knees could be a deal breaker? This might be her third and last date with Al’s brother.

Then I said, “Doesn’t he know it’s time to get off the track, get out of the way, and let the younger guys take over?”

“He doesn’t know he’s getting old.” Al said quickly reverting to NASCAR. “It’s like all these young guys who are driving today. They are tearing up the track. They’re out running the old guys.”

I said, “The old guys, meaning the thirty and forty year olds?”

“Yes.”

“I know why? It’s all those video games the young ones have been playing. They have quick reflexes. How young are they anyway?”

“Oh, about 20 or 22. Even an eighteen year old is driving 200 miles an hour.”

Then Al continued. “Well, there’s a guy who is the oldest on the track. His name is Morgan Shepherd. He owns his own car, and works on it himself. He pulls it from his hometown to where ever the next race is. He might be in forty-sixth place, and stays at the back. If there is a crash, he inches up to another place.”

“How can he afford to drive in NASCAR? It takes a lot of money. These racing teams have two or three cars, and a lot of people on the team. How does he stay up with the deep pockets and the young drivers?”

“As for money, he probably breaks even. It’s the thrill of racing. In his younger days he tore up the track. The announcers all like him and talk about him all the time.”

This seventy-two year old driver has no sponsors, builds his own car with his own money, pulls it with his own pickup, and drives it himself in the race. This intrigued me. I went to his website.

He’s asking for donations for a set of tires, and seeking sponsors for the 2014 racing year. This driver is putting himself out there every weekend. He’s working really hard to stay on the track.

Then we have Al’s brother. He’s wearing tight black leather pants and a black leather jacket driving a Harley. He sees himself young, also. He bails out the young women, doesn’t mind spending his money on them and waits outside of jail to drive them home. With those wrinkled legs and saggy knees it might slow down his hot pursuit. If she doesn’t work out, he’ll find another race and be back on the track by the weekend.

I guess we are all living in hope and trying to stay on the track. Al’s in his brown leather chair, and watching fast cars. His brother’s wearing black leather looking at fast women, and his brother’s ex is off the track wanting to get back on. Morgan Shepherd loves the thrill of just being on the track and is doing anything to stay on it.

Final Brushstroke! Maybe Al’s right. “Don’t tell him. He doesn’t need to hear that. Every man needs to have hope. That keeps him going.” I guess that’s what we’re all doing. We’re living in hope. The younger generation has caught up with us and passed us by. Some have the good sense to stay off the track, and some of us believe we still have what it takes to stay on it.

If I’m lying, I’m dying. Yes, Al’s brother is pushing eighty and is shopping for black leather. I don’t think he’s looking for handcuffs and a whip to go with it, but you never know about him. He’s driving a Harley these days and he says he can’t drive a Harley without wearing black leather. It’s all about presentation with him!

He called the house. He wanted to tell me about Karen, this knock-down, hit-the-wall, gorgeous woman with this out-of-the-world figure. She’s forty-nine pushing fifty. She’s also pushing his standards, he doesn’t date women over fifty.

This was his third date with her, and it might be her last. She has one flaw. Read on!

He said he was waiting at the detention center to drive Karen home. She had to spend the night in jail for drinking too much wine and having too much fun with him. Her bail was set at $6,000, but he only had to pay $600 to bail her out.

Apparently this is the story. He made plans to take Karen to a wine and brunch at a fancy restaurant. His ex-wife, who calls him all the time, wants to keep track of him and what he’s doing. Personally, I don’t understand this kind of relationship. It’s one of those on the track and off the track.

He told his ex-wife he was dating this woman, and he was taking her to this restaurant. He told her, “Don’t show up. I see you all the time at clubs, I don’t bother you, don’t cause trouble with me and this girl.”

He said he knew his ex-wife would show up. She always did. He called the head chef at the restaurant, “If she shows up sit her in the other room away from him and his date.” This must mean, his ex is off the track at the moment.

So this woman had brunch and too much wine. When they left, he pulled out of the parking lot on his Harley and she followed him in her car. The police waited outside the restaurant and pulled her over. They handcuffed her and took her to jail.

I reminded him of that beautiful blond he dated a couple of years ago. At the time she was also dating a cop. He claims the dirty cop was watching for his Lexus and paid-off another cop to pull him over. Al’s brother ended up in jail, paid a fortune to an attorney and he had to do a hundred hours of community service.

He’s had to breathe into a breathalyzer before he could start his car. It was only removed a few months ago. He said, “That why I couldn’t go back and help her. They’ve red-flagged me.”

I sat and listened to him on the phone and was awed at the trouble this man brings to him self, just to stay young, on the track and in the race.

After the conversation on the phone, I told Al that his brother went to Karen’s house and she was wearing shorts. When he looked at her legs he noticed she had wrinkled legs and saggy knees. He said, “It turned him off. He couldn’t help it.”

I said to Al, “Your brother’s got a big problem.”

Al said, “Well, don’t tell him. He doesn’t need to hear that. Every man needs to have hope. That keeps him going.”

This was all very interesting. Saggy knees could be a deal breaker? This might be her third and last date with Al’s brother.

Then I said, “Doesn’t he know it’s time to get off the track, get out of the way, and let the younger guys take over?”

“He doesn’t know he’s getting old.” Al said quickly reverting to NASCAR. “It’s like all these young guys who are driving today. They are tearing up the track. They’re out running the old guys.”

I said, “The old guys, meaning the thirty and forty year olds?”

“Yes.”

“I know why? It’s all those video games the young ones have been playing. They have quick reflexes. How young are they anyway?”

“Oh, about 20 or 22. Even an eighteen year old is driving 200 miles an hour.”

Then Al continued. “Well, there’s a guy who is the oldest on the track. His name is Morgan Shepherd. He owns his own car, and works on it himself. He pulls it from his hometown to where ever the next race is. He might be in forty-sixth place, and stays at the back. If there is a crash, he inches up to another place.”

“How can he afford to drive in NASCAR? It takes a lot of money. These racing teams have two or three cars, and a lot of people on the team. How does he stay up with the deep pockets and the young drivers?”

“As for money, he probably breaks even. It’s the thrill of racing. In his younger days he tore up the track. The announcers all like him and talk about him all the time.”

This seventy-two year old driver has no sponsors, builds his own car with his own money, pulls it with his own pickup, and drives it himself in the race. This intrigued me. I went to his website.

He’s asking for donations for a set of tires, and seeking sponsors for the 2014 racing year. This driver is putting himself out there every weekend. He’s working really hard to stay on the track.

Then we have Al’s brother. He’s wearing tight black leather pants and a black leather jacket driving a Harley. He sees himself young, also. He bails out the young women, doesn’t mind spending his money on them and waits outside of jail to drive them home. With those wrinkled legs and saggy knees it might slow down his hot pursuit. If she doesn’t work out, he’ll find another race and be back on the track by the weekend.

I guess we are all living in hope and trying to stay on the track. Al’s in his brown leather chair, and watching fast cars. His brother’s wearing black leather looking at fast women, and his brother’s ex is off the track wanting to get back on. Morgan Shepherd loves the thrill of just being on the track and is doing anything to stay on it.

Final Brushstroke! Maybe Al’s right. “Don’t tell him. He doesn’t need to hear that. Every man needs to have hope. That keeps him going.” I guess that’s what we’re all doing. We’re living in hope. The younger generation has caught up with us and passed us by. Some have the good sense to stay off the track, and some of us believe we still have what it takes to stay on it.

How about those Pirate Ladies!

It was not quite a year ago, I stood beside a young tall girl who was hanging onto her mother in a rambunctious crowd. The two were watching the cameras flashing as the Pagosa boys were holding up their State First Place trophy. The boys passed the coveted golden object around to the other champion players.

The girls basketball team had been forgotten in the school parking lot for a moment, no mention was made of the girl’s accomplishment.  The young girl was doing everything she could do holding back the tears. Her heart was breaking.

I wanted to console her. I said to her, “It’s hard, isn’t it?”

She said, “Yes it is.”

The Pagosa Boys Basketball team had just returned with First Place at State. Key people were called from Wolf Creek Pass to get everyone ready to give the boys an entrance of their lifetime. “They’re coming. They have just gone over the Pass.”

Facebook, texting, phone calls and e-mail spread throughout the town. On Sunday afternoon, the good fans of Pagosa were there to welcome the boys home from State. Bright yellow signs, decorated cars and trucks with balloons, and flags were waiting for the Big Yellow Bus. The Press was there with a notebook and camera. Even Ron was there in his clown suit. It was the greatest moment for the Pagosa Boys Basketball Players since 1960.

The school bus windows went down, the boys leaned out the windows, and they knew they were heroes. It was like a scene from an old movie.  After the bus passed, the cars followed the players to the Pagosa High School parking lot. They were just boys, but they came home as men.

At the parking lot I asked, “Where’s the girls?”

“Oh they planned it for them to come in early so they wouldn’t feel badly.”

“They shouldn’t feel badly at all, they lost only one game at State. They went all the way, too. They ran up and down the courts as many times as the boys. They just didn’t get the trophy.”

As I reflect back to last year, I can only imagine the tears and the joy that went on in the Lucero family. Their son won First Place, their daughter didn’t. They both practiced and played their hearts out. That was the boys’ year, most of them were seniors, and they only had that year to prove they could do it and get a scholarship for college. A lot was riding on it for the boys.

The girls had another year to be more seasoned. They are on a roll, rolling down the highway in that big yellow school bus, going from here to there. To date, they have won all their games.

I believe today, if I had a chance to talk to the same young girl standing in the crowd with her mother, I would probably say to her, “Last year made you hungry, didn’t it? Your whole team became one from that experience, no one knows how it felt but the team.”

Final Brushstroke! I always love watching Hoosier. I remember the coach saying, “We have to break them down, in order to build them into a team to play as one.” I believe last year was the girl’s breaking-down season. They will never forget how it felt to come in second. It was harsh, but look at the girls this year! I’m putting my money on them.

What Makes a Champion?

You’re going to have to slap this silly grin off my face. I can’t help myself. Behind this smile is a reason. Behind every win, there’s a story.

We came home from Colorado State Wrestling Tournament with the State Championship win. It’s always the story behind the win that intrigues me. What does it take to get to that coveted place? It doesn’t just happen without a lot of adversity, disappointment and character building.

It takes a lot of hard work, sweat, tears, opportunities, shut doors, close calls, and praying mothers and grandmothers. It also takes the right people on your path to encourage, teach, and help you believe in yourself.

After my grandson's win, our daughter said, “Look around us, we are surrounded by all the men who helped Creede get to this championship. They are here at the Pepsi Center. There were his coaches, Dan Janowsky, Michael Martinez, and Keith Candelaria. Coach McCabe, who was Creede's coach last year, and his little boy, Jackson, flew in from Florida to Denver to watch the team wrestle. There were his football coaches, Kelly and Spode who came that night. A few of his sparring partners; Fonzie Hernandez, Bubba Martinez, and Myron Stratton made the trip to Denver. His brother, dad, and granddad were there and the whole wrestling team were cheering him on. The win was a team effort. Creede had put in the work and extra effort, but it was all those who gave their expertise and encouragement who need to know, what we all know, and that is, he couldn’t have gotten there without them.

There were friends and family who spent four days together cheering on the six wrestlers from Pagosa. One of the mothers was wearing a tee-shirt that read, “When you watch your son wrestle, everything else in life is easy.”

That’s the truth. It’s the longest six minutes you can imagine. You’re pushing, shoving, leaning, covering your eyes, twisting, turning, and yelling from the stands while your wrestler is straining and fighting to win. Then there’s the heartbreak when their son doesn’t win. Some boys run off the mat holding back tears. You want to cry for them too, but you catch your breath and go through the same acrobatic cheering routine for the next young man on the team. It is exhausting!

At an earlier tournament, I smiled when I heard Michael Martinez’s comment to one of the wrestlers who was crying. He said, “Stop crying. You don’t have anything to cry about.” Those were tough words, but the truth. If you remember Michael’s story, reported in the SUN last year, he was kicked in the jaw by a horse, he went to practice anyway. In high school, his house burned down. He wrestled his match in a smoke scented singlet. When his home exploded, he suffered burns over his body, but with a champion spirit, he recovered.

Wrestling seems to use tee-shirts to pump up and speak their message, such as “It took a decade in the making.” I guess one of the schools had been working at making a team for ten years and was proud to tell it.

Another tee-shirt read, “Every champion was once a contender that refused to give up.” I thought back over our seventeen year old grandson’s sports career. He’s had a rough haul before that Saturday night he stood on the podium and received the State Championship Award for Colorado.

His freshman year he was on his way to state when he got into a fight with a friend. The two boys were in the activities director’s office, both hugging and crying saying they were sorry. The director said he didn’t know whether to suspend the two boys or send Creede to state. He almost missed his first time going to state.

Sophomore year, during a football game, he was deliberately kicked by a young football player from another school. The other school was apologetic and the boy wrote a letter of apology. The coach recruited this young man to play football. He felt football was an answer for this rebellious youngster who had been in trouble with the law. It was an embarrassing moment for our grandson. However, he learned to forgive.

In his sophomore and junior season, he played all his sports, football and wrestling, with a broken foot. He didn’t want to take off from sports to have the operation where they put in a titanium plate and six week recovery. He waited until the day after wrestling ended for the surgery and was the only one-legged discus thrower I have ever seen.

In the 2011 wrestling season, he couldn’t go to state because of a broken hand. In a fit of anger, he had put his hand through a wall. He learned a very valuable lesson. It cost him state.

Last year, in 2013, he separated his shoulder at regionals and didn’t place well at state, but we were still full of pride watching him beat his first opponent with one arm taped down. His opponent went for his injured arm and I wanted to cry. It hurt me to watch, but he fought with one arm for his place in state.

Then there was the end of the football season of 2013 when he couldn’t finish the last two games of the season. A referee’s call cost him playing the rest of the game and the final game. He was one of the team’s captains and was banned from the field. He had grown up on the football field. It was his senior year and the last time he would play for the Pagosa Pirates. That was a heartbreak for him and his family. It was building character and learning that everything in life isn’t fair, but you’ve got to keep going.

One of his coaches told me at state, “Creede is an athlete. He is a strong athlete.” I knew what he was saying. There are those who wrestle, play the game and move on to other things. Then there is an athlete. They have a burning win inside of them, and after the win they go back to the gym and start working out again. They start practicing for the next challenge.

Then there was a special moment, which happened just a few days before our dear friend Mary Jo Janowsky passed on. Our daughter and Creede were having lunch with Mary Jo. She was talking about getting her ticket for state. She said, “I don’t want to miss state. I have to get my tickets.”  She didn’t get to go to the state meet, but Creede remembered the conversation. On the back of the tee-shirts, along with the six wrestlers' names, the initials “MJ" with a halo was printed at the bottom.

The team said, “She was our team’s light weight." Everyone knew her spirit was there watching over them. Our grandson practiced a tribute to her if he won. If you could have seen him at the end of his win, after his funny strut, the prancing around, a little dance and the hulk stance, Creede crossed his arms over his heart, made a swirl around his head, pointed his finger to heaven and pulled on his earlobe. "That one was for you, Mrs. Janowsky."

Final Brushstroke! The tee-shirt doesn’t lie, “When you watch your son wrestle, everything else in life is easy.” When you’ve watched your grandson do the victory dance and receive the championship award, you forget the hurt and the pain of what it took to get him there.

State is fertile ground for young men to catch fire for next year’s championship. We watched a Junior looking out over the coliseum as they rolled up the mats, and tore them all down, He turned and smiled, “I have a taste for next year, I’ll be back.”

Mr. Dan Janosky and Creede Wylie at Colorado State Wrestling Tournament