Let’s Get Physical

A while back, I envisioned being in the best physical shape of my life at age 60.

That will happen in July. Not the best physical shape of my life part, but the turning 60 part.

Let’s not kid ourselves. 60 is not 20. But I can report that I have been more physically active now more than I have ever been. I run two or three times a week. I’m no gazelle, but I finally hit what my son told me I would hit if I kept working at it – a comfortable pace. When I started, I ran for a bit and then walked some to catch my breath – and then ran some more.

Right now, I run about a mile at my current pace – and I’m ready to extend my distance because I am not in the least fatigued. I am grateful that I am able to do this. I have two 5Ks under my belt too, both completed with my friend Stan. Read about these HERE and HERE.

After each run, I do two sets of air squats, and I’m increasing those reps – and I do a stretching routine afterwards – something I never really paid attention to before.

On alternate days, it’s pushups with a very cool device called the Mark Bell Sling Shot. That thing ensures that my elbows are where they should be – followed by dumbbell curls. My aim is four sets of everything. I’m ready to increase my weight on the curls.

Once a month, my son and I head to a great new gym in Myrtle Beach called The Pump House for push/pull day.

Wesley is a certified personal trainer, and he always has my back – making sure my form is correct, encouraging me and teaching me. My son. My coach.

My friends Buck and Jodie, both longtime runners, were instrumental in keeping me motivated also.

I used to give in to resistance and excuses, but I am defeating those demons.

Whenever resistance rears its ugly head, I take action.  

My friend A.J. told me recently that when he played football in high school, his coach drummed it into his head that by missing a day or fudging a bit in the daily training routine he would only be cheating himself. Now is all we have. Not tomorrow, next week, or when we feel like it.

All we have is today.

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KISS This

I signed onto Ticketmaster just before ten last Friday morning. My daughter and daughter-in-law did the same thing.

Endgame: Score tickets to KISS at Madison Square Garden for one of their two final shows ever (I’ll believe that when I see it). Friday at ten, the tickets were to go on sale to the general public.

The idea was to go in connection with my twins’ 30^th birthday. My daughter lives in Brooklyn. My son lives here in Myrtle Beach with my daughter-in-law and their baby boy – my grandson.

My daughter isn’t fond of KISS at all, but she was down with going – to do something she knew her brother enjoyed. It’s also historic, after all.

Maybe we’re behind the times, but my daughter and I were looking to spend no more than $120 on our seats (plus my girlfriend). We thought these would be just a step better than nosebleed – but at least we would have been there.

I once lucked out and scored Elton John tickets at Barclays Center for something like $80 apiece. And those were relatively good seats. That was a fun SHOW.

Check this out…

When I signed on, I was put into the “waiting room” until 10 a.m., at which point I was sent into the queue, with more than 2,000 people in front of me.

It didn’t take long until it was my turn.

I can’t say I was shocked, but with the exception of a couple of premium retail seats priced at something like $2,000, the tickets had already become resale tickets. The cheapest tickets I saw were already north of $500.

I saw a resale ticket priced at $3151.50.

What’s going on? Were there 2,000 bots in front of me? Scalpers?

I love KISS. My son loves KISS. But come on. We saw them in Raleigh, N.C. not too long ago. You can read about that HERE. The seats were very reasonable., and we essentially said goodbye to the band then. But we might have enjoyed potential guest appearances – maybe Peter and Ace? Maybe Doc McGhee coming on and waving to everyone. But no way is this worth at least $500 apiece plus airfare and hotel.

My experience on Friday put a bad taste in my mouth. How did those tickets get to resale so quickly?

Stick those tickets where the sun don’t shine.

And don’t you dare come back. This is the End of the Road, after all.

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The Force Is Strong With This One

My daughter-in-law knocked it out of the park with the above photo.

My grandson is two months old today and recently weighed in at 13.7 pounds.

He’s talking to himself now and in a recent video my son sent me, I swear he could have done the voice-overs for Grogu.

Anderson’s been infatuated with the outsized ceiling fan in his parents’ living room. His mom contents that the contrast of the dark fan against the white ceiling captures his attention.

I need to get better at describing him.

Right now, all I have is that he’s perfect.

I’d like to think he smiled at me a couple of times. But that could be wishful thinking.

I have plans to start reading to him. I would like him to get used to my voice, my vibe.

Pretty soon he’ll realize that he owns me.

Holding Anderson

My grandson arrived on December 29. He’s beautiful and healthy, weighing in at just over seven pounds at birth. His mother is doing just fine, and I thank God on both counts.

He’s a week old today.

I’m supposed to be a writer, but my powers of description fail me just when I need them. Maybe this is because of the sheer joy I experience whenever I lay eyes on him – the flood of emotions, the circle of life, right here and right now.

Watching him sleep. Noticing every flutter in the eyelids, every movement, every pursed lip – every adjusting movement.

Listening to his magnificent voice. It’s not shrill or over-the-top. It’s appropriate.

My daughter-in-law asked me if I wanted to wake him up yesterday before handing him over to my son for a diaper change. I told her I’d love to, as long as he didn’t resent me from that moment on.

Holding him as I talked to him and he began to awaken was surreal. He was not swaddled this time, and I could feel his warmth and his breathing – his presence.

This little person probably still has a direct line to the infinite.

With no language or bias to encumber him, I wonder what goes on in his mind.

Do any of us really know?

Imagine feeling nothing but love from the moment you open your eyes.

Safe. Secure. Cozy.

I am in love.

The Main Event

Photo by Dominika Roseclay on Pexels.com

I am going to be a grandfather very soon.

My daughter-in-law is going to be induced tomorrow.

I am blissfully ignorant of the process, but I understand that the delivery ETA is anybody’s guess. Could be quick. Could be drawn out.

And I can only imagine what Leigh is about to go through.

She’s a tough cookie, my daughter-in-law. She has worked throughout her pregnancy with a dignity and resolve that renders me speechless. I already know that she is going to make a wonderful mother.

It’s funny how time seems to compress now that the big moment approaches.

This reminds me of any significant life event. Things seem so far off at first but as time goes by, the reality sets in.

Weddings are like that. Babies are like that too.

Ready or not, the day arrives – the result of a snowball set in motion months earlier.

It blows my mind that my son is going to be a father. In a blink of an eye, the circle of life continues – and I am sure Wesley will embrace every facet of fatherhood.

Soon, these two beautiful humans will step into their new names: Mommy and Daddy.

My grandson is coming, and things are getting real.

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Preparing for Arrival

Photo: Anna Lauren Meeks

My grandson will be saying hello to the world before the end of the year.

He’s ready.

Leigh and Wes are as ready as they can be as first-time parents, and that is enough. The rest will be the day-to-day, and their support system is already firmly in place when it comes to the respective families of both parents.

For me (to the extent that this can possibly be about me), the fact that I am about to become a grandfather is surreal.

My father didn’t live to see his grandchildren, but he was such a ray of sunshine in our lives that I am sure he would have followed suit with them – singing to them, reading to them, encouraging them, loving them.

My first-time fatherhood event was my only-time experience – and in my case there were two babies. The idea of twins was surreal as well, although I am a twin. But by the grace of God, I relied on intuition and common sense when I needed it – in the myriad day-to-day tasks that make up a father’s life.

To the annoyance of my two, I tend to treat these wonderful adults like kids now, but there is a difference. Wes and Taylor enjoyed sense of agency from the time they were little, meaning that I treated them with the sovereignty they deserved – unencumbered by the cliches handed down in parenting books or by others who might have tried to steer me into some kind of direction or agenda.

Of course, I sought out practical advice when I needed it and got a lot of help. I made a shit-ton of mistakes, too.  

But I sang to them, read to them, encouraged them, loved them.

And through it all, I know that we made memories.

As my grandson prepares for touchdown on this planet, I am ready to sing to him, read to him, encourage him, love him.

Much love to the parents-to-be.

I can’t wait to meet him.

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My Two

One is nearby. One is far away.

One thing is certain: I love my twins.

Wesley and Taylor turn 29 tomorrow.

It’s the old saw about not blinking – again.

Most times when I think about them, I experience senses of joy, gratitude and a bit of heartbreak all mixed together. Deep in my solar plexus, I feel these things – and the heartbreak is along the lines that I love them so much that my heart breaks.

It’s hard to explain, but I’m trying.

These two people – two out of eight billion human beings – are my people. We are inexorably linked by blood, by our shared experiences, by the time we have spent together on this planet. By the countless times I hid from them and heard their little voices giggling and whispering, “Where is he…” and then laughing when they found me.

Pushing them around the neighborhood in the City of Orange, California in their tandem stroller – looking at excavators and calling them dinosaurs – watching VHS tapes when we moved to Charlotte – embedding films like Angels in the Outfield, Jurassic Park and countless Disney offerings into our collective consciousness.

So much to process – and I won’t do this justice in a short post. But watching them grow.

My sister told me that when we moved to Charlotte for a time, Wesley and Taylor would quietly wait for me to wake up before heading downstairs to see the family.

Star Wars. KISS. Backstreet Boys. Power Rangers.

Later, I would take Wes to KISS concerts – and I would take Taylor to see the Backstreet Boys.

I had to pee, but there was no way Taylor was going to leave the back of the arena until she saw one of them emerge. That happened to be Howie.

California. North Carolina. California again. Virginia. South Carolina.

My two are resilient, capable and loving.

My two are my adult children.

My two are my twins.

My two.

Happy birthday.

Showing Up

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

For the past couple of weeks, I have been “showing up” for my fitness commitments.

I have been running three times a week at working out twice.

As I have mentioned before, I can only blame myself for late waking, and this can throw a spanner into the works. But I have been marking certain items on my to-do list, the “frogs” that speaker and author Brian Tracy suggested that we eat…

Working out and running should have as much priority and my daily writing and piano work.

Yesterday I almost blew off heading to my workout because I woke up late and had other items on my list that I wanted to take care of, including getting familiar with a new multitrack recorder I recently ordered.

But something inside me impelled me to throw on my workout clothes and jump in the car.

Last week, I did the same thing – and I said out loud, “I’m here!”

I spend a lot of time in my office. It’s my little cocoon. My desk is here, my piano is here, my books are here. My decent office chair is here…

Once here, it’s hard to imagine trekking outside. My interior life is strong in this office.

But as I approach 60, the discipline of a fitness regimen is something I know I need, especially because and in spite of the fact that I never really made an effort to do much of it as a younger man.

I look to my son as a shining example of such discipline. The man totally transformed himself beginning in high school and earlier – and I am lucky to have my son as my coach.

With each effort, with every run and weight-training session, I am developing a foundation for a vibrant and active third act.

The time will pass anyway, as they say – and I mean to strike a balance.

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I Love Him Already

I am going to be a grandfather!

We were sworn to secrecy when my son and daughter-in-law let us know – but the announcement is official now after Saturday’s gender reveal: Baby Boy Yale is coming in January and I am over the moon!

But here’s how surreal it was when we first found out:

Wes called a while back and said he was coming over. I thought, excellent – I can hang out with him for a bit. When we’re together, a switch goes off and we channel our inner 12-year-olds. The bantering is wonderful, and we have fun – a great respite from the cares of the world. He’s 28 and I’m 58 – and we usually cover things like KISS and Star Wars, our fallback perennials (I raised him right). Not that we don’t cover the deeper things as well, but you know…

Wes and I talk daily, and he and Leigh live just down the road across the Intracoastal Waterway in Myrtle Beach proper.

On the day he visited, Leigh was at work – also close by. He told us that she was going to stop by on the way home. This was also good news because I love being around her.

Seeing Wes and then Leigh that evening was random – but I didn’t think too much about it. Neither did my longtime girlfriend, Brenda.

When Leigh showed up, Wes told me that I left some workout clothes at his house and went to retrieve them from one of their vehicles.

I was chitchatting with Brenda and Leigh when he came back in. He handed me a pair of gym shorts that looked like they could have been mine, but I didn’t recognize the brand. Then he handed me a red shirt that I most certainly didn’t recognize.

When I held the shirt up, my eyes immediately went to the piano in the middle of it – then I saw the words: JUST A GRANDPA WHO LOVES PIANO.

Straightforward enough, right?

Well – for a couple of beats, my brain wasn’t quite getting it. I thought, very funny, an old guy who loves piano – totally glazing over what the word grandpa actually meant.

Brenda got it right away – but she kept a poker face while Leigh and Wes were looking at me.

I forgot who prompted me to look at it again.

But then it hit me.

Holy cow – I’m going to be a grandpa!

You Wanted the Best

It finally happened!

KISS finally did their show in Raleigh (May 17) and we were able to, as my son says, give a nod to the band that has been a constant in our lives – mine since I was a teenager and Wesley’s since he was barely six.

I raised him right.

His best friend since middle school, Xavier, was just as blown away by KISS shortly after meeting Wesley – and I am happy to say he came with us as well.

The show was a long time coming. The original date was supposed to be in September of 2020, a couple of weeks before Wesley’s wedding – and meant as a bachelor getaway for the three of us. It was postponed due to the pandemic and rescheduled for August 2021 – but Paul got the virus ahead of their Pittsburgh show and I think Raleigh was the next stop. Canceled again. I wrote about that HERE.

But the day finally came, and we headed for the Coastal Credit Union Music Park at Walnut Creek – full of excitement and anticipation.

We listened to a couple of my set lists on Spotify, making sure to avoid rock and especially KISS, enjoying vintage hip-hop and funk instead. I also played a few ballads – heart-string pullers from the likes of Brian McKnight, Toni Braxton and Phil Collins.

We were creating a vacuum for the rock spectacle ahead of us.

Since I was a kid, I wasn’t a big fan of sitting through an opening act – especially when it came to the shows from artists I really loved. Some people give me a hard time about this – but that’s just me.

Thankfully, KISS chose a very talented painter named David Garibaldi to open – and he did some fantastic work, throwing together three images in record time: Steven Tyler, the Statue of Liberty and KISS. The last two were done upside-down and came to life at incredible speed.

Finally: “You wanted the best and you got the best. The hottest band in the world – KISS!”

Our seats were at stage left – where Tommy Thayer would spend most of the evening. Sometimes Gene Simmons would trade places with him – with Paul Stanley all over the place, consummate showman that he has always been.

Paul “flew” out to a platform in the middle of the venue for “Love Gun” and “I Was Made for Lovin’ You – telling the folks surrounding him that they now had front row seats.

Drummer Eric Singer deftly held the operation together – and delivered a solid and surprising drum solo between “Psycho Circus” and a partial taste of “100,000 Years.” He did a great job singing “Beth” while playing a baby grand.

Yes – Gene breathed fire and spewed blood. Yes – the drum riser rose not once, but twice – and the second time it did, it looked just like the first time I went to see KISS on the “Love Gun” tour – with two big cats appearing as the riser rose, just like when Peter Criss played.

Tommy and Gene had scissor lift-style risers on either side of the stage – and they deployed frequently. We were in hog heaven.

Tommy Thayer was on task the whole night. I mentioned to Wesley that I feel like Thayer is a guitar god. The guy has been with them for two decades – and he actually showed Ace Frehley how to play his own solos again ahead of 1996’s Reunion Tour.

Paul and Gene. What can I say? I’m almost 59, and I was constantly telling Wes and Xavier that – “they’re right there” – yards away from us. Fanboys never die.

I was 14 again – and I am sure the two young men with me felt the same way.

So long, KISS.

But if you go out again, I’ll be singing a different tune.