tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-89004027765268181412024-03-21T06:44:00.238-07:00The Write StuffKevin C. Millshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15891329451132920851noreply@blogger.comBlogger26125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8900402776526818141.post-1586232966944076462014-01-28T09:04:00.001-08:002014-01-28T09:13:05.554-08:00I am unfulfilled. I am unsatisfied. I am brilliant. I am a maker of a great future<a href="http://www.christianfilmdatabase.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/01/seeking_index.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.christianfilmdatabase.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/01/seeking_index.jpg" height="319" width="320" /></a>I get comments about things that I write all the time.<br />
As a journalist, that comes with the territory. There will be some complaints from a soccer mom who's baby I didn't mention enough or a hockey dad with a gripe. Most of the feedback I get is positive and greatly appreciated.<br />
It has been the same as an author. I've had a number of people tell me how much they enjoyed the book of mine they recently read. And that is so rewarding to hear.<br />
One of the most recent comments I read about my writing told me how "Brilliant" I was and "What a great future" was ahead of me.<br />
To read such comments a week or so ago were quite stunning.<br />
You see, these comments were from something I wrote in 1984. They were comments from a teacher about the journal I had kept for a writing class in high school. I stumbled across it while cleaning.<br />
Those comments surprised me because they meant something to me now. I recognize what that teacher saw and I respect that "brilliance" and the bright future. Her words were as relevant today as they were then, if not more so. I cherish and relish it, knowing that so much is in store for me because I've got so much unfinished business.<br />
I don't recall being so appreciative of those comments back then. I was probably happy that the teacher liked what I wrote and that was good enough. I don't think I grasped what she was truly saying. As I glanced through that journal, it was so me. The person I am today, I could see signs of him in that journal.<br />
I remember a few years ago sharing love letters that I had written to a girl in high school. I still had hers. She still had mine. I read mine hoping to see some fledgling brilliance in my writing. There was none. The highlight was me saying "My love for you is terminal". I realized I had the wrong word and crossed it out and wrote "eternal" instead. <br />
In this journal, I was writing about music, religion and politics and commenting on the world around me with an idealistic view and strong convictions. It is the same kind of topics that I think and speak about now. I just use bigger words.<br />
That quest and desire to write deeply, powerfully and meaningfully existed even then. I had not developed my desire to write words that are not disposable but the signs were there.<br />
With the death of Pete Seeger, I'm reminded of a quote I read once in book about folk music. When Seeger's son decided to pursue life as a musician, his father pointed out that it would be a life of constant seeking and never being satisfied. His career choice was destined to lead toward an unfulfilled life. It was the price to pay for such a creative mind.<br />
I saw that comment and immediately related to it. I had always wondered why I was the way that I am.<br />
I am always looking for new music to enjoy and inspire, with hundreds of CD's to prove it. I'm always buying books. I just bought five of them last night - that comes after downloading a bunch on my Kindle a few weeks ago. I'd buy all kinds of cookbooks and rarely would make the same dish twice. .<br />
I am always overly critical about the things that I write. The perfect example is a story I did on hockey fighters and the tough role they learned and lived. I was swinging for the fences with that story, hoping for the proverbial home run of sports features. I wrote it and was disappointed. I considered it a swing and a miss. It subsequently was recognized by the Maine Press Association and the New England Press Association and was the most honored story I've written - so far.<br />
<br />
That Seeger quote made me realize that I was and am always seeking. I'm always looking for something new, something better something different.<br />
I knew that someday I would publish a book. I also knew that I'd publish said book and would likely wonder the very next day what I was going to do next because the published book was yesterday's news. Sure enough, I did just that - even though I already had the next book in mind. <br />
I balked at the idea of it being an unfulfilled life. I felt rather satisfied and fulfilled with my life to some degree. But I saw myself as someone that was always striving and never wanting to be comfortable with the status quo.<br />
As I've gotten older and learned more about life and myself. I still see myself in those words. But I embrace them even more. And when I see that teacher's comment about my writing and perspective being "brilliant" and part of a "great future". I agree and recognize that potential.<br />
For too long, even amidst my striving for new and different things, I didn't see that potential. I didn't embrace it. I didn't pursue it.<br />
But I do now. I am unfulfilled. I am unsatisfied. I am brilliant. I am a maker of a great future. That is what life is about. It is about constantly seeking and finding and then searching some more. It can be tempting to rest easy in life and be along for the ride. That's not what I want. I'm driving the car. I'm making progress. I might even get to where I want to go. But I'm always moving forward and seeking new destinations. There are great things ahead of me on this road and I'm going to enjoy the ride. In that comes fulfillment and satisfaction.Kevin C. Millshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15891329451132920851noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8900402776526818141.post-55964250461117990852013-12-28T16:56:00.001-08:002013-12-28T17:14:33.387-08:00Seeing Past Our Own Handicaps<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjotMQRiM89ZGitvr1po1YXMExpqK7g_Tsj_up03VQ_a6n0RK_hvFN7MYXTb4fEI624t839uKX-3PpGT0q8eTJ9zgyaMTcr9lr82nV4PcT6zzLO9rXlfaZ5y7jW1uFjgbpbjv0vlTF0u8NI/s1600/new-handicap-sign_sq-b776123d4caffce16afc752c82caf50c6309eb02-s51.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjotMQRiM89ZGitvr1po1YXMExpqK7g_Tsj_up03VQ_a6n0RK_hvFN7MYXTb4fEI624t839uKX-3PpGT0q8eTJ9zgyaMTcr9lr82nV4PcT6zzLO9rXlfaZ5y7jW1uFjgbpbjv0vlTF0u8NI/s200/new-handicap-sign_sq-b776123d4caffce16afc752c82caf50c6309eb02-s51.jpg" width="200" /></a>My first impression of my friend Mark was a negative one.<br />
<br />
I watched him slowly make his way along a wharf one evening. He was walking slowing with canes in both hands. His family was guiding him along and someone with a wheelchair was right behind him.<br />
<br />
My first thought was "What are these people thinking?"<br />
<br />
I was standing on the three-masted schooner Victory Chimes a few years ago. Mark and his father were about to board. I couldn't imagine how this young man was going to make it up and down the ladder-like companionways on the 100-plus year old vessel. We were preparing for a week-long sail.<br />
<br />
What I didn't know was that Mark and his father had been on the Chimes before. I also didn't know what Mark was capable of doing. All I saw was what he couldn't do. It was a snap judgment based on my own negative impressions and assumptions.<br />
<br />
It turns out that I sailed with Mark twice. It was a wonderful experience getting to know him. He has some form of ALS. He couldn't speak. He struggled to walk. He moved slowly. But it was amazing to relate and communicate and form a great friendship with him, even though he never spoke a word to me.<br />
<br />
I reached that same conclusion last week as I talked to a few coaches. All three are in wheelchairs for various reasons. I was doing an extensive feature on how coaches in wheelchairs cope and still do what they love to do. That story runs Sunday. You can check it out here http://www.sunjournal.com/sports<br />
<br />
As I talked to one of them, it suddenly came together for me. He said that people would look at him and say "Poor me". He told me he didn't want "Poor me".<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDbpu_KjNZURdLxNvFeXPPFyK1BoZOvV1nO7syfwLdubX4EarI2Il0OPyEcDyfrxC_OhDghaxcqUd78qKaPyy93IvUWOFUvd1nzOzk-9yo26CLWcNAv5hAuotPiMWCTO6RKBMILVdPqQEv/s1600/SPThandicappedCoachesTP122913.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDbpu_KjNZURdLxNvFeXPPFyK1BoZOvV1nO7syfwLdubX4EarI2Il0OPyEcDyfrxC_OhDghaxcqUd78qKaPyy93IvUWOFUvd1nzOzk-9yo26CLWcNAv5hAuotPiMWCTO6RKBMILVdPqQEv/s320/SPThandicappedCoachesTP122913.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
I realized in that moment that people, including myself, often look at people with handicaps and see what they can't do. We pay no mind to the potential and abilities they have that we may not even know about.<br />
<br />
One of the people featured in the story is a friend of mine. I've known Matt for many years and don't see him as a guy in a wheelchair. I know the quality person that he is and the kind of coach that he is.<br />
<br />
Still, it is easy to look at others and see their inabilities before seeing their abilities. I did that with the other coach mentioned in the story. He's shown in the wonderful photo above (taken by Sun Journal photographer Daryn Slover).<br />
<br />
I barely knew him or his story but when I heard he was going to be the varsity coach last year, I wondered how he'd be able to managed that. As a result of him coaching at the varsity level, I got to meet him and have gotten to know more about him. He's a great guy with a tremendous sense of humor and love of basketball. I don't see his chair or his handicap any longer.<br />
<br />
I learned a variety of things from writing this feature. A significant part of it was understanding that I don't simply like and admire these coaches because of what they've accomplished from their wheelchairs. They're not handicapped. They're handicapable. I admire them for who they are despite their handicaps. I know them as good people who are dedicated to coaching and teaching kids. They're not role models because of their wheelchairs. I admire them because they work so hard at what they do and are so committed to doing what they love that they'll overcome anything.<br />
<br />
As I was thinking about all this, I also concluded that these conclusions are not just made about handicap people. We make such judgments all the time - about everybody. We're told we're not enough this and too much of that. We define each other, and even ourselves, by our inabilities and even our faults. Those become what we are known for as opposed to what our abilities offer. So-called unconditional love can often come with expectations and conditions. <br />
<br />
This story about handicap coaches inspired me to keep plugging away when things get hard to do. There are people I know that work so much harder to do what they love in comparison. This story also showed me how harmful judgment can be. They wanted to be seen as coaches, not viewed as handicapped coaches. Taking the time to truly know somebody and understand them opens up unimaginable opportunities.<br />
<br />
I'm grateful to know people like these coaches. I'm thankful for meeting somebody and getting to know them like I did Mark.<br />
<br />
Life shouldn't be about limiting what enriches us. It should revolve around seeking things and people that inspire, teach and just provide us love and joy.<br />
<br />
Making judgments is easy and we're too quick to do it. It is a handicap we all must overcome. Understanding takes a little extra time, but it is ultimately worth it.<br />
<br />Kevin C. Millshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15891329451132920851noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8900402776526818141.post-82514219999149696732013-11-11T07:27:00.001-08:002013-11-11T07:32:29.390-08:00In honor of their serviceI inherited a number of books from my Dad.<br />
<br />
I have various book he read, various Bibles he owned and a collection of books and commentaries he used in his pastorate.<br />
<br />
Out of all the books he passed on to me, there is only one that he personally presented to me and wanted me to have. It is a book called "Abundant Living". I've never read it and have barely looked at it. It was given to my Dad by his Army buddy Bob Gough.<br />
<br />
My Dad was a radio operator during World War II. Because of his skills as a radio man, he actually stayed behind longer then the rest of his company, much to his displeasure. By the time he reached Europe, the worst of the fighting was over. So Gough shipped out before my Dad and he never came back.<br />
<br />
That book sits on a shelf with a number of other things of immense value to me. There's a ship model my grandfather never finished. There's various birds that my Uncle Doug made. There's "the box" that my grandfather left behind for Dad after going to the hospital with a heart attack. It had all my grandfather's pertinent papers.There's my Hitler Youth Knife, one of my Dad's war souvenirs. There's pendant that belonged to my great grandmother Douglass.<br />
<br />
The book is an important keepsake not only because it was given to me by my Dad but because I know it was important to him. I know little about Bob Gough but I know he was a valuable friend to my Dad and at very young age. I can't image the feeling of loss he felt when he learned that his friend had been killed in action.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGLr0W6mobuVfW9VBU2MkNF-wFeSiKevL3LMujoF_3wsdnlqnCjejOHC4G0ZEP9P9W8IwwgVXbjiiDFJ2eCPJu2mh799TlbetvaAQzKGccBICXSwfniVaEXKpYhy3Er7TqWjbORuZvdMAL/s1600/joe,al.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGLr0W6mobuVfW9VBU2MkNF-wFeSiKevL3LMujoF_3wsdnlqnCjejOHC4G0ZEP9P9W8IwwgVXbjiiDFJ2eCPJu2mh799TlbetvaAQzKGccBICXSwfniVaEXKpYhy3Er7TqWjbORuZvdMAL/s200/joe,al.jpg" width="151" /></a>One thing I regret about my Dad is that I didn't talk to him a lot about his war experiences. Maybe he wouldn't have wanted talk about them anyway. But I know one viewing of Saving Private Ryan had him talking about WWII for days, especially if he came across a fellow veteran.<br />
<br />
I've always been interested in the Revolutionary War and the Civil War but hadn't developed an interest or appreciation of the history of WWI or WW2.<br />
Since my Dad died, I've learned a little more about that era. I've watched various movies and documentaries, including the Band of Brothers box set, which my Dad would have loved had he ever watched it. I have the Jeff Shaara books on WW2 that I bought for my Dad and now own. I may read those soon.<br />
<br />
Learning what I have has given me a greater appreciation of the sacrifices of so many soldiers, including my Dad and his brothers Doug and Albert Mills. And my grandfather sacrificed so much, being a widower that watched his three boys go off to war. (That's my Dad and his brother Al to the right).<br />
When I see how many good men died or were scarred for life from their experiences there, it amazes me that my Dad and his brothers all were able to make it home relatively unscathed.<br />
<br />
As much as I'm thankful for their safe return, I'm grateful for their sacrifice and their service. My Dad was just a high school kid when he went off to war. I can't imagine going off to a World War when I was that age. His brothers were not much older.<br />
<br />
I'm glad that the cemetery where my Dad is buried does a nice job recognizing veterans and putting a flag by his stone. My Dad was proud of his service. And I'm proud of my Dad's service as well as that of my uncles. I wish I was able to go visit his grave today but will have to wait for the next time I'm at the coast.<br />
I saw a story on the news the other day about the Gettysburg Address. Lincoln's speech talks about not letting the loss of life at Gettysburg to be in vain.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGjHPAA-AQZRUpq2fjk7FjI7fRvS1CVeInv6LAx5YkLBGzw793MWchjEHhhymFJxjzMWhQnGsDjdEvj8X3YMnsQajlyKx8dLDHWKCRNDMShzmRFQg_0CFDB7x9C3yHi3HVitqDR1lJih4D/s1600/joe,doug,louisville,kentucky.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGjHPAA-AQZRUpq2fjk7FjI7fRvS1CVeInv6LAx5YkLBGzw793MWchjEHhhymFJxjzMWhQnGsDjdEvj8X3YMnsQajlyKx8dLDHWKCRNDMShzmRFQg_0CFDB7x9C3yHi3HVitqDR1lJih4D/s200/joe,doug,louisville,kentucky.jpg" width="170" /></a></div>
It made me think about the sacrifice and service of so many veterans, including my Dad and his brothers. (That's my Dad and his brother Doug in Kentucky to the left.)<br />
<br />
How do we truly honor what they have done for our country and our way of life? Do we serve and sacrifice for our country in similar ways?<br />
<br />
Look at our country today. I don't even have to expand on the answer. It is shameful that this country has become what it has. Is this the kind of freedom people fought and died for? The bickering, the bipartisanship, the lack of care for doing what is best for our country and people, we're not uniting for the greater good. We spend too much time and energy trying to blame and hate the other side. Our energy is invested in making political points and gaining power instead of making us a better country and a better people.<br />
<br />
In many instances, but not all, we went to war to right a wrong. Our veterans served and died for something that was right. Are we striving to do what is right? Or are we more focused on what serves us best or feeds our wallets instead of our people.<br />
<br />
People will tell you they "Support the troops" and they'll wave their flags and vow to never forget. But do they truly honor what our veterans did. Token propaganda and Facebook posts don't do it properly.<br />
<br />
I will never serve in the military. I will never be able to sacrifice like my Dad and his brothers did. But I can honor them and their willingness by serving in my own way. I can feed off their bravery, their courage and their willingness to sacrifice for good.<br />
<br />
I never talked with my Dad about it but I can imagine him saying to himself that he wanted to honor the memory of Bob Gough and his friend's sacrifice by living a life that would do that. My Dad ultimately did live a life of service, as a pastor, as a teacher and as a man of great strength and courage. I'm sure Bob Gough played a role in my Dad being the person that he became, and my Dad honored his memory as a result. <br />
<br />
We can all serve. We can all sacrifice. We can all strive to do what is right in this world. We can all hope and work toward bettering our country. Those are my marching orders. I don't know all the ways I will and can make it happen, but I want my life and existence in this country to honor and reflect the bravery of the people that paved the way for me.<br />
<br />
And someday, I hope people can be proud of my service.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Kevin C. Millshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15891329451132920851noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8900402776526818141.post-20733236750588597442013-11-01T09:17:00.001-07:002013-11-01T09:28:52.257-07:00Measuring LifeSomewhere in a notebook, tucked away amidst many other notebooks, is a particular song I wrote.<br />
<br />
I think when the day comes that somebody inherits my so-called estate, their biggest haul will be pens and notebooks.<br />
<br />
And in a lot of those notebooks, some of them dating back to high school and college, have tidbits of stories and songs written in them - as well as drawings of hockey players.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwJCT5vfiuB0sbDRCeKtnh07to-0GErn-v7Ss9inCpEscoNMBcobcs8doDAYrbkFIRTUsCXKA4ZoDv5Iqur09uYux8zj_VBnmA9FcQ21RBLuqq7XXTZvz6ZOxhCcFijpqMOY9LVlvRb2gn/s1600/DSC01422.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwJCT5vfiuB0sbDRCeKtnh07to-0GErn-v7Ss9inCpEscoNMBcobcs8doDAYrbkFIRTUsCXKA4ZoDv5Iqur09uYux8zj_VBnmA9FcQ21RBLuqq7XXTZvz6ZOxhCcFijpqMOY9LVlvRb2gn/s320/DSC01422.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
One of those songs I wrote years ago has a line in it that says "Now life is measured by what I haven't got", A pretty happy sentiment.<br />
<br />
When I think about the songs I used to write, I think of something Mike Ness of Social Distortion said during a Live at the Roxy show. He said "You all want to hear a happy song? Sorry, homey, we don't do no happy songs."<br />
<br />
Of course, many of my favorite artists don't write happy songs. They write the dark, painful, introspective types. And that's what I used to do - even when I tried not to.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I've been thinking about that line about life being measured but what I haven't got. I kind of recall thinking that was a pretty brilliant line back in the day. And maybe that was a good reflection of my mindset then.<br />
<br />
But it isn't now. In fact, I try to think and see the opposite. I try not to dwell on what I don't have. I'd much rather embrace and enjoy what I do have.<br />
<br />
I think it is easy for people to immediately worry about what is missing instead of recognizing what they possess. We're a society that bitches and moans first instead of being thankful and appreciative. We blame before we look for solutions. We look down at people instead of lifting up. We are fearful before we are brave. We worry before we are confident. We're angry instead of being joyful. We're programed to see the downside of things instead of looking at the great things in life.<br />
<br />
I know people who see life in such a negative way that they're just consumed by that outlook. All they do is worry, be angry, complain and blame others for their misery.<br />
<br />
I saw a study once on a news magazine show about how people could look through the headlines of the newspapers. Some would see the good things but most would consume the negative and build their outlook and world view from that.<br />
<br />
That's not to say I don't have my disappointments and frustrations. I have them all the time. People that I expect better from let me down. People I don't expect to hurt me, do just that. People I hoped would support me as an author, by buying books or writing reviews that I needed, didn't do that for me. There are things in my life that I don't have and wish that I did.<br />
<br />
It can be easy to look at other people's lives and wish I had this or that. But I try not to do that any longer. I don't measure life by what is missing. I measure it by what I've been blessed with.<br />
<br />
In all facets of life, I don't want a life like everybody else. I never do what everybody else does. I tend to bounce to the beat of my own drum and do so gleefully. I want my own extraordinary life. I've realized that I have just that and it can be what I make it.<br />
<br />
I was sitting on the deck at my cottage in Owls Head this summer. It was one of those glorious summer days that make me cherish the place more than I ever do. I thought of how fortunate I am to own and have such a place. I even contemplated the idea of if I could trade it for something else that I feel is lacking in my life, would I do it? Not a chance. I wouldn't trade the cottage for anything. It is truly a wonderful blessing in my life and I can't imagine what my life would be without it.<br />
<br />
Another example has to do with my job. I'll sometimes hear about someone that I know getting a new job or succeeding in this or that career. I'll feel a twinge of jealousy and wish maybe I'd made that much money or had that kind of life and career. Then I stop myself. I've had the career I always wanted. How many people can say that? It has been a wonderful gift and opportunity to share my skills as a writer and journalist. I've had some great experiences and memories in my career. I've met some wonderful people. I've done outstanding work and established myself as one of the best in the business and I've done it on my terms - with honesty and integrity and earning the respect and appreciation of the people that have read my work or dealt with me. How lucky am I to have all that? <br />
<br />
I heard about a guy yesterday that called in to WEEI to talk about the Red Sox. He was complaining about Manager John Farrell - the day after the Red Sox won the World Series for the third time in 10 years and after being in last place a year ago.<br />
<br />
Sure there are things we can gripe about. I see people complain all the time on Facebook. Their life is one prolonged misery it seems. But it is only that way if you look at it that way. That's what I've learned. Your perspective is what you see in it. If you don't like your perspective, change it.<br />
<br />
I'm enjoying finding the little blessings of life. So many things I take for granted. I was driving back from a game recently and came across a beautiful sunset as I headed home along Route 4. It is part of nature that happens every day but it is always different and often awesome. So much of life is that way.<br />
<br />
Life lets me down sometimes. People let me down often. It still bothers me sometimes. There are things in life I'd still like to have. There are voids I'd like to fill.<br />
<br />
But I know God has given me what I need and has blessed me with so much else. When I measure life by the blessings and gifts I have, I'm not only lucky but also joyful and happy. I've realized that life measures up pretty good.Kevin C. Millshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15891329451132920851noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8900402776526818141.post-69572742183090717652013-10-24T08:19:00.000-07:002013-10-24T08:19:47.332-07:00Reaching for itIn an attempt to find rest and relaxation, I found inspiration and motivation.<br />
That wasn't quite what I was looking for during last week's vacation. I had a week off to enjoy time on the coast and get away from the world. I had some reading and writing to do and a beautiful place to do it - accompanied by a flock of honking geese that would fill most evenings.<br />
I think any time I have a week off, I hope to be revitalized afterward but this renewal came from things I didn't expect. Some of my favorite artists spoke to me through their example as did a legendary hockey coach. It all makes me excited to be me and live the life I'm living.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGw0WBrT02bZ-vk3XR5kYUTTkv2H6X1CjMVG52Hw2tMF3Fsr-5GpoDZdk6KxgsQeWHy_sbgdQMZNc0E-S5_vcb6bTGzAA2jdl8c9iUSjdzuD1fly_dAdpmQNhZZSoWlRs1LmgM32RlEWDO/s1600/DT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGw0WBrT02bZ-vk3XR5kYUTTkv2H6X1CjMVG52Hw2tMF3Fsr-5GpoDZdk6KxgsQeWHy_sbgdQMZNc0E-S5_vcb6bTGzAA2jdl8c9iUSjdzuD1fly_dAdpmQNhZZSoWlRs1LmgM32RlEWDO/s320/DT.jpg" width="320" /></a>It started with a DVD I just got in the mail, a documentary about Canadian singer/songwriter Bruce Cockburn. I've seen Cockburn at least eight times. I've recently realized this commonality between some of my favorite artists like Cockburn, Mark Heard, Buddy Miller or Richard Shindell. They're all poets and prophets. They're music and their words are rooted in the power of their convictions. They can write with a brutal honesty or a subtle feeling from the heart. They're not preaching but offering a perspective for the world to see and learn from.<br />
In Cockburn's song If I Had A Rocket Launcher, he writes "If I had a rocket launcher, some son of a bitch would die," and in Call It Democracy he says "you don't give a flying f$%k about people in misery." Yet, he writes the absolutely gorgeous words in Look How Far. <br />
"So many miles, so many doors. Some need patience, some need force. All fall open in their own due course. To allow us this time.<br />
And you're limned. In light, golden and thin. Looks to me. Like you're lit up from within.
And look how far the light came. Look how far the light came. Look how far the light came. To paint you. This way.<br />
And I picture us in this light. Friendship a fine silver web. Stretched across golden smoky haze. And this is simple. And this is grace.<br />
And this light. Is a guest from far away. Passing through. The last whisper of day."<br />
Cockburn is a Christian but exists outside the mainstream. He unabashedly writes what he thinks and feels as he informs and inspires that follow his work.<br />
Reflecting on him and his music, it make me want to write deeper and with power and conviction. I realize that I tend to already to do that but it gave me a clearer picture as to why. Whether I'm writing a significant feature for the newspaper or writing a new novel or throwing thoughts into this blog, my goal isn't simply to provide entertainment and something to read. I don't want my words to be disposable. I want them to reach you and reverberate and last. I want to make you think. I want to make you feel. I want to touch you and inspire you. Simply put, I want to make a difference. I want to be my own kind of prophet, speaking my truth to all who have ears to hear it.<br />
Later in the week, I tossed in my Peter Gabriel concert DVD. I couldn't stand the song Sledgehammer when I first heard it. His music challenged me a little at first and it took me some time to accept it. I've seen him three times and am yearning to see him again. By opening my mind to his craft, I've learned so much and made tremendous discoveries in music and in myself.<br />
It just so happened that the following night, I watched a documentary on George Harrison, my favorite Beatle. First, I realized that it was Harrison that was my first introduction to world music, which ultimately blossomed when I started listening more and more to Peter Gabriel. Secondly, I'm always inspired when I hear about Harrison's desire to be more than just a Beatle or a famous musician. He wanted to live a deeper and more meaningful life. In the documentary, his wife, Olivia, says that he lived by the idea that to prove worthy of God's love, you must display a love of yourself and the world around you. Those are like marching orders to my soul every time I hear them.<br />
Then at the end of the week, for the fun of it, I tossed in the movie Miracle. The story of the 1980 Olympic hockey team always moves me. I had the great pleasure of interviewing coach Herb Brooks when he was coaching in the American Hockey League. I'm just glad the movie didn't exist then because I'd have been terrified to go on the team bus to talk to him.<br />
I often live his words "you prepare for the unknown" in life, trying to make myself better and ready for the journey on which God is calling me.<br />
In the movie, Brooks tells his players that they are ordinary men but that they can do extra ordinary things. It was their time to do just that. Watching that made me want to beat the Russians myself.<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/tdmyoMe4iHM?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe> I want to be beyond ordinary, at least in the things that I do and the work that I produce. It isn't out of ego or a desire to make tons of money but from a want to make an impact. I can feel all the potential and great things God has in mind for me. Sometimes, I have no idea what that is, but it is there and within my grasp. And I'm reaching for it. <br />
I'm proud to say that I feel like I've been doing all that already. I heard a comment yesterday about how somebody's greatness can be determined by reflecting on what life or things would be like without them. I started doing the George Bailey thing and looking at what life around me would be like without my fingerprints. I was pleased to realize a pretty good impact that I've had on the world around me.<br />
But I'm not done yet. I'm still finding inspiration. I'm still finding motivation. I'm still learning. I'm still growing. And it all speaks to bigger and better things. I was meant to be here. And this is my time.<br />
<br />
<br />Kevin C. Millshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15891329451132920851noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8900402776526818141.post-4972996454623314682013-09-16T08:16:00.000-07:002013-09-16T08:16:08.905-07:00Triumph In TragedyI stood there talking to a four-year old - about running.<br />
She had just finished the kids' Fun Run at the Stephen Ward 911 Memorial 5K. I told her I was an official high fiver at the event and that she could be my first high five of the day. She obliged me.<br />
She told me she was four, holding up her four fingers. I told how impressed I was at her running at such a young age. I joked that I didn't start running until I was 20 - and I quit soon thereafter.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqNrtntl_n9P8RUNki2sbiIAgQgzzClH00DrQyZLZcQgPM1oQu5xdLTTx58ZXnV_-vHNZakOBqyiQAp6SaBrlCpvgY6-8sfjqWIsSOMsBkLh66cVfBhMKoWX3zsGy4dLSggCykqDjTIwyV/s1600/1233422_637225412968326_811779926_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqNrtntl_n9P8RUNki2sbiIAgQgzzClH00DrQyZLZcQgPM1oQu5xdLTTx58ZXnV_-vHNZakOBqyiQAp6SaBrlCpvgY6-8sfjqWIsSOMsBkLh66cVfBhMKoWX3zsGy4dLSggCykqDjTIwyV/s320/1233422_637225412968326_811779926_n.jpg" width="320" /></a>Later in the day when I got home, I thought about that little girl again. She didn't even know my friend Steve, who was in the World Trade Center that day 12 years ago. She wasn't even old enough to be alive on that day. It is hard for me to imagine someone not witnessing or understanding what we all went through that day.<br />
Yet, this little girl was running, so were so many other young kids, whether it be in the Fun Run or in the 5K. Many of them likely were just doing it for fun and had little understanding of the role they played Sunday. But someday, they will.<br />
The race was organized by Steve's sisters and family. The money raised goes to a scholarship. Their intent was to do something positive in the devastating wake of tragedy.<br />
Students of the future will benefit from these efforts and hopefully, they'll have the chance at the full rewarding life of which Steve was robbed.<br />
The event went beyond the scholarship money though. It was a wonderful opportunity for a family, friends and community to not only support Steve but also each other. It wasn't a solemn occasion. It was a celebration - of Steve's life as well as our own. It was a unification of our loss and sadness. It was also a marshaling of forces for good and right.<br />
We've all suffered loss. Grief isn't a solitary endeavor, at least it shouldn't be. Life is full of hardship and tragedy.<br />
As I've said many times, our lives can't be defined by our falls, failures and trials. We should be defined by how we rise above those struggles, no matter how tragic and heartbreaking.<br />
I see so many people that have faced some sort of adversity. They've condemned themselves to living in that horrible moment or be forever controlled by that particular struggle.They never get past what happened. They never move on from it. Their lives become defined and dictated by something negative - primarily because they allow it to.<br />
I've also seen people that have risen above. They moved past their adversity. They've used it to motivate them. They've used it to be stronger. They've vowed to learn from the challenges of life and live in the light instead of stuck in the their darkness. From the ashes, a new fire burns and rebuilding begins.<br />
<br />
Steve's family was devastated by his loss. I can't imagine what that has been like. Grief is hard enough but when it is as public as something like this, I can't even fathom it. They've endured and persevered with great love, grace and strength.<br />
There can be triumph in tragedy. And the running of this race every year, allows us to not only continue to grieve but also move forward in a positive way. We honor Steve's memory and his place in all our lives. We join together to support each other and heal as a community. There's a great power in numbers, especially unified for something good. <br />
The acts of 911 were born from hatred and closed minds. And the world is still full of the same kind of evil and divisiveness. Sunday's race came from love and open hearts. It was a community rallying together. That is what must carry us all forward amidst the darkness.<br />
My four-year friend doesn't understand all that now. She will someday. Eventually, she'll recall running and she'll realize why and what it was truly all about.<br />
Life is a long race. We'll all stumble. We'll all fall. We can all get back up again. We can run this race together. We can finish. And we can high five at the end.<br />
<span class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"type":45,"tn":"*G"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption">"From
the pain come the dream. From the dream come the vision. From the
vision come the people. From the people come the power. From this power
come the change." ... Fourteen Black Paintings, Peter Gabriel</span></span> <br />
<br />Kevin C. Millshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15891329451132920851noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8900402776526818141.post-18445753103081626642013-07-16T07:40:00.002-07:002013-07-16T07:52:22.297-07:00Making Something Out Of Nothing<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLXacwaqYvWy6Ol7XBpUWgEXcyrE6UTSLRhe6IrMOSUQ_j52cjRwKm8aGLi8ecQf0bf5eDSTAGfexX60z-RRfBBddUnZXpfhMhogp3hEvESrer0li5FZjJfW1TJ0HJpJrHQw7rJFKG8JM_/s1600/wonders-and-woes-of-change.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLXacwaqYvWy6Ol7XBpUWgEXcyrE6UTSLRhe6IrMOSUQ_j52cjRwKm8aGLi8ecQf0bf5eDSTAGfexX60z-RRfBBddUnZXpfhMhogp3hEvESrer0li5FZjJfW1TJ0HJpJrHQw7rJFKG8JM_/s320/wonders-and-woes-of-change.jpeg" width="320" /></a>We call them Freaks on the Street.<br />
I suppose that is the official newspaper term. It is when the paper collects photos of some poor unsuspecting people and have them comment on whatever mindless question of the day the reporters are forced to ask.<br />
The only time I had to do such a thing was when I was dispatched with a photographer to the Auburn Mall years ago to get a "Freaks on the Street" spread on the hiring of a new UMaine hockey coach.<br />
I searched out anybody that looked like they knew something about hockey or UMaine and asked the question and hoped to get some sort of an intelligent answer. I don't even recall whether I did or not.<br />
The Freaks on the Street spread I saw recently was about school budgets. The question posed was whether these people had voted. The answers were a bit discouraging.<br />
One guy said he had not voted because "they're all full of bull". I don't know who the "they" were and I don't know what that had to do whether he voted or not.<br />
Another person said they had intended to vote but had not gotten around to it. Well, at least they intended to do their civic duty. That counts right?<br />
Another person, and there were only five or six, said something disparaging as well as to why they had not bothered to vote.<br />
Now I know school budgets and the items that have been up for vote in recent weeks aren't the presidential election and don't have high-profile status of some major election, but don't these votes have an even greater impact on these people's lives at the local level?<br />
I know a lot of people who are effected by these budgets. I know school administrators, teachers, students and coaches. All of them have a stake in the outcome. Parents and taxpayers are effected as well.<br />
Yet people can't be civic minded enough to vote for something that impacts their own community and likely people they know.<br />
It's kind of like the old saying "People complain about the weather, but nobody does anything about it."<br />
We've become a world of bitching and moaning. It's easier to lay blame than take responsibility. Why try and change things when standing idly by and griping about it does so well - not.<br />
I see it in our politics. I see it in the workplace. I see it regardless of where I go each day. People can always talk about what is wrong about something and who is to blame. Yet they offer few solutions or suggestions as to who might make such change. And they're certainly not stepping up to volunteer.<br />
We've let the zealots take over society. We have the right wing, Bible thumpers and left leaning tree huggers. That's how they're stereotyped and everything falls into one camp or the other. We've become polarized by these two ends of the spectrum, where the other is to blame and nobody takes responsibility. It has trickled down from the politics of our highest office to our everyday conversations, where if you don't agree with me, you're wrong and also an idiot.<br />
We're dividing ourselves because of our disagreements. We stand upon our soapboxes and tout our respective ideology while demonizing anyone that disagrees. Meanwhile, what is truly important and what is right gets lost in all the white noise and posturing.<br />
Where is our common ground? Where is our commitment to do what is right? Where is our determination to make a stand? Why do we let our laziness dictate instead of allowing our knowledge to empower?<br />
It is easy to wash our hands of the frustrating discourse. It is tempting to toss up our hands in despair and assume there's little we can do about it. I'm a political junkie of sorts and even I'm tired of it all.<br />
Public service isn't serving the public. As a result, our commitment to civic duties suffer. It is easiest to just ignore and do nothing and hope it goes away. Or we assume nothing can be done. We're let to just bitch and moan and blame. We've become too tolerant of our intolerance.<br />
There is always something that can be done. Maybe it starts with something as simple as utilizing your right to vote. Maybe it is change an attitude from powerless to powerful.<br />
We the people have a power. With that power can come the change. But nothing changes when all we do is complain and blame.Surrendering your power only leaves one weak. Inaction doesn't lead to action. People need to realize that to make change around us, we must make change within us. When that is realized, maybe they do something instead of doing nothing.<br />
<br />Kevin C. Millshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15891329451132920851noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8900402776526818141.post-4597809894581823022013-07-02T10:36:00.001-07:002013-07-02T10:36:33.089-07:00Kneedful Things<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj04oHqeSA3zCWpFrerZXu2J_lqmWNpEAMRS3m95_Jkdx0kD5_LBsZNUh0xaadZ2RFQqmppCwmoj6hHUrjHgnj0bbHnvZtEQ7Ihu7f9L0XyYFUQ9ElwZmyM160s2I_RQ87FIPyCsMKjyFUi/s604/2066_51822316089_3922_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj04oHqeSA3zCWpFrerZXu2J_lqmWNpEAMRS3m95_Jkdx0kD5_LBsZNUh0xaadZ2RFQqmppCwmoj6hHUrjHgnj0bbHnvZtEQ7Ihu7f9L0XyYFUQ9ElwZmyM160s2I_RQ87FIPyCsMKjyFUi/s320/2066_51822316089_3922_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
The scar is really the only negative reminder of that day.<br />
Yet, hardly anybody ever notices it. I'm careful about my knee. I'm a little slow going down hills but otherwise, it is just a minor hindrance at times.<br />
It was July 5. That was the day I blew out my right knee and good. The doctor said it was one of the worst he'd seen. Yeah me !!!<br />
I remember sitting in the hospital room that day. I'd come out of surgery. The drugs were wearing off and the reality was setting in. I had a long road to recovery. I was out of work and my summer was pretty shot. It was not my best of times.<br />
Yet, I made it so.<br />
While the scar still lingers and reminds me of the harsh reality of that day. There are many things that remind me of the wonderful things that came from it.<br />
I'm an author of three books. None would have happened the way they did had it not been for the knee injury. I sailed on the Victory Chimes for 10 straight years each summer and had some fantastic experiences and met some wonderful people. I found a resolve inside me I didn't know I had. I learned my strength and determination was far greater than any setback I could have. I'm still living that today, facing new challenges and still living large and in charge as much as I can.<br />
I'll be celebrating the anniversary of my knee injury this Friday in the most appropriate of ways. I'll be in Owls Head, where the injury happened. I'll be walking the Rockland Breakwater and watching the Great Schooner Race. I'll do so with a sense of victory and a feeling of invincibility.<br />
Knock me down. I get back up.<br />
What felt like one of the worst moments of my life that Friday afternoon turned out to be one of the best things that ever happened to me.<br />
I ruptured my patella tendon that morning. I was dragging a rowboat up my beach when I slipped on wet seaweed and fell backward. My knee got caught underneath me and ... snap, crackle and pop.<br />
At first I hoped it was only as bad as the dislocated knee cap I had in college. It would be a hassle to go through that kind of recovery again, but it was one I knew I could do. Come to find out, this injury was far worse. It required surgery and I wouldn't be able to drive for three months (I did it in two). I was out of work and who knew if the knee would ever be the same again. The doctor continually shook his headed, telling me how bad an injury this was.<br />
I sat in that hospital room feeling depressed and sorry for myself. Then I thought about my niece, Caitlynne. She'd been diagnosed with bone cancer earlier that year. Just a month before, she had undergone radical surgery to save her life. She had part of her leg removed and another part reattached so that her ankle now served as her knee joint. I had seen her after her surgery and witnessed an amazing and gutsy kid rising from the depths of life's curveball. <br />
I vowed at that moment I wasn't going to let an eight-year old girl show more guts than me. I was on a mission from then on. She just graduated from high school, by the way, and is headed to Boston University in the fall.<br />
I rehabbed my knee with a vengeance. I got into the best shape I'd been in in years. I was back to work in two months and was climbing the 24 flights of stairs to the Cumberland County Civic Center press box by October.<br />
As much as my renewed attitude and determination proved to be tremendous results from the injury. There was more.<br />
I had lost some vacation time because of the injury. I held it over for the following year. With some extra cash from some award I had won, I decided to do something different with the extra money and vacation time. I chose to sail on the Victory Chimes.<br />
Not only did that lead to a decade of trips aboard the Chimes with some great memories and friends that followed, it was the impetus in my decision to write a trilogy based on family history. My first novel Sons and Daughters of the Ocean was a direct result. Many chapters in that book were written aboard the Chimes. In fact, the other books that have followed, including the yet to be released Sea of Liberty still have some direct ties to the Chimes and my trips aboard her.<br />
I can't image life without those trips. I can't image life without the books I've published. I can't image life without the proof and knowledge of how strong I am and what a determined mind and unrelenting heart can achieve.<br />
It was supposed to be a boat trip to Port Clyde that day. I didn't get there. I ended up in the hospital instead. But sometimes we don't get where we intend to go. We go where we need to go.<br />
Knock me down. I get back up.Kevin C. Millshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15891329451132920851noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8900402776526818141.post-69840908090683711722013-06-06T17:56:00.000-07:002013-06-06T18:59:55.708-07:00Where There Is Will<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjekDfJUFgExUxT2gqHprjY7lw9p5vN8czXuy6jBOFcDPFd-aoGQSB11sh5nNU4SsWJdJrpLUWWUHeM0VTLHNyF3Kd1wOxGc5qeAYzMr-Et37-WXlBE__K1UC4MYC-rKctvBL0bxQnGHmKd/s1600/campbellweb7s-2-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="138" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjekDfJUFgExUxT2gqHprjY7lw9p5vN8czXuy6jBOFcDPFd-aoGQSB11sh5nNU4SsWJdJrpLUWWUHeM0VTLHNyF3Kd1wOxGc5qeAYzMr-Et37-WXlBE__K1UC4MYC-rKctvBL0bxQnGHmKd/s200/campbellweb7s-2-web.jpg" width="200" /></a>I didn't see Greg Campbell get hurt.<br />
I was already caught up in the excitement of the Boston Bruins overtime win over Pittsburgh when the highlights of Campbell's injury were part of the postgame coverage at 1 a.m. Thursday morning.<br />
Campbell had slid forward at the point to block a shot. He took it off the leg and fell in a heap. In the video of the injury, you can hear him scream in agony.<br />
But then Campbell got back up. He couldn't count on a stoppage in play. That wasn't going to happen. In a game in which every mistake or opportunity could lead to the decisive goal, Campbell knew he had no choice but to gut it out. He got back up, tried to play his position, on what was later diagnosed as a broken leg. He even blocked another shot.<br />
As he finished his shift and helped the Bruins kill off the Penguins power play, the Boston fans chanted his name and a wounded Campbell skated off the ice. His season is done.<br />
As amazing as what Campbell did, it doesn't surprise me. Hockey players do that. I know many who would have done the exact same thing.<br />
I recently read a story about my friend Kevin Kaminski. One of the many injuries in his rough and tumble hockey career was taking a slapshot to the side of his face. Two inches higher, it likely would have killed him. Instead, it just demolished that side of his face. When asked about it later, Killer recalled it and said "That one stung a little."<br />
Hockey players can be warriors. They know the price that it takes to succeed in the playoffs. They'll do so willingly. They're playing, competing and sacrificing for something far greater than themselves. It seems very different than any other sports. Current Red Sox players are getting ridiculed because they've missed games because they slept wrong or because their hammy hurts. Campbell broke his leg and kept playing. Now, all of a sudden, Jacoby Ellsbury is well enough to play again, after missing a half dozen games or so to a sore hamstring.<br />
Campbell showed me the true depth of guts and heart and desire. You get hurt. You get back up and fight on.<br />
As I thought about Campbell, I realized the anniversary of Normandy. Talk about having guts and heart.<br />
My Dad wasn't part of the invasion. By a twist of fate, and lack of radio operators at home, he was held back in the states longer than he preferred. By the time he was sent to Europe, the invasion was over and the war was on its last legs. By the grace of God went he.<br />
Most of what I know of Normandy is through movies and historical documentaries. The mention of it puts me on the beach in Saving Private Ryan and figuring the real thing was hundreds of times more horrifying than that.<br />
I'm not a huge flag waver or a "Support the Troops" kind of person. It isn't that I don't support the troops or believe in the freedom our country offers. All those slogans and flag waving gets a little tiresome amidst their use as propaganda and tools for political causes.<br />
But being awed by Campbell's sacrifice and his display of heart and courage only illuminates such selflessness in the context of Normandy.<br />
I know an injured hockey player and the sacrifices made by brave troops in a time of war can't truly be compared. But the fortitude displayed in both instances is amazing and awe inspiring. And that's my point.It doesn't matter the challenge or the adversity, where there is tremendous will, there's a way to show such heart.<br />
I can't imagine what it was like for Campbell Wednesday night and I can't even fathom what it was like on the beaches of Normandy. I'm not sure I can even fully comprehend how terrifying it was to be there.<br />
But I can appreciate such displays of courage, sacrifice, strength and heart. I can only strive to possess some resemblance of those examples.<br />
I never expect to face such trying examples as that. But I know if I get knocked down or put in a challenging situation, I have proof of how amazing and how strong the heart and will of a human can be.<br />
We should recognize and honor such acts of courage and bravery, whether it is the sacrifices of our soldiers or a hockey player competing and playing as selflessly as Campbell did. It took tremendous heart and guts and a will we all should yearn for.<br />
We should remember these examples and hope to live such heart and selflessness as they did. We learn from the past so as to not repeat the mistakes. We can also learn from the past when heroes live, die and hurt because of their fortitude and determination amidst fear and the unknown.<br />
I know I'm talking hockey and hell here. They're truly separate. But I'm simply looking at both events and marvelling at the true heroic nature involved, where weakness and fear were overpowered by an amazing will, a determination, a heart and a strength.<br />
The daily challenges I face are meager in comparison but can be made to feel so large and overwhelming. But I can be a warrior in my own small way. I can strive to live for something greater than my own gain. Others have shown the amazing power of selflessness, sacrifice and strength. And it simply comes from a determined and undeterred heart and a desire to persevere. With that kind of will, there's always a way.Kevin C. Millshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15891329451132920851noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8900402776526818141.post-65066652137640695482013-06-03T08:03:00.000-07:002013-06-03T08:03:08.351-07:00Growing Up<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
<o:RelyOnVML/>
<o:AllowPNG/>
</o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
</xml><![endif]--><br />
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:TrackMoves/>
<w:TrackFormatting/>
<w:PunctuationKerning/>
<w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/>
<w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>
<w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent>
<w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>
<w:DoNotPromoteQF/>
<w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther>
<w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian>
<w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:SnapToGridInCell/>
<w:WrapTextWithPunct/>
<w:UseAsianBreakRules/>
<w:DontGrowAutofit/>
<w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/>
<w:DontVertAlignCellWithSp/>
<w:DontBreakConstrainedForcedTables/>
<w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/>
<w:Word11KerningPairs/>
<w:CachedColBalance/>
</w:Compatibility>
<m:mathPr>
<m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/>
<m:brkBin m:val="before"/>
<m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/>
<m:smallFrac m:val="off"/>
<m:dispDef/>
<m:lMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:rMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/>
<m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/>
<m:intLim m:val="subSup"/>
<m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/>
</m:mathPr></w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
DefSemiHidden="true" DefQFormat="false" DefPriority="99"
LatentStyleCount="267">
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="0" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Normal"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="heading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="35" QFormat="true" Name="caption"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="10" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" Name="Default Paragraph Font"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="11" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtitle"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="59" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
</w:LatentStyles>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-qformat:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin-top:0in;
mso-para-margin-right:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt;
mso-para-margin-left:0in;
line-height:115%;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:11.0pt;
font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif";
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;}
</style>
<![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<o:shapedefaults v:ext="edit" spidmax="1026"/>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<o:shapelayout v:ext="edit">
<o:idmap v:ext="edit" data="1"/>
</o:shapelayout></xml><![endif]-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieOtvzQr9Futt-cvxDSXZELigZvnzA-KycnlYTAjWhXjp0vPTo0YKdI51-NWhW6Nql4AvfX_LZYBhNiP3ZJzIx6V89iX6btyFK4SPWAvGg25QuHCr3T1roV1XaTzvnuW7jDXTfB4qtVC99/s1600/IMAG0391.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieOtvzQr9Futt-cvxDSXZELigZvnzA-KycnlYTAjWhXjp0vPTo0YKdI51-NWhW6Nql4AvfX_LZYBhNiP3ZJzIx6V89iX6btyFK4SPWAvGg25QuHCr3T1roV1XaTzvnuW7jDXTfB4qtVC99/s320/IMAG0391.jpg" width="320" /></a>As my foot left the solid security of one rock, it set foot
on another. The other foot followed, landing me squarely on top of a large
rectangular boulder. Then the rock moved.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The rock always moves. It seems as though every time I walk
around the point in my cove in Owls Head, when I come upon this series of rocks
strewn about the beach, I always seem to find this particular rock. I step on
it. It moves. I suddenly remember that it moves. Then I forget, at least until
next time.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I continued my walk around the point, I noticed similar
occurrences. This rock and that rock were familiar. It didn’t take me long to
realize that many of these granite rocks large and small are the same ones I
step upon whenever I take this walk around the point.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sometimes, it is the easiest way to navigate my way around
the rock bound shoreline. But sometimes I wander <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>aimlessly, with another blog, a chapter of my
book or solving life’s challenges stirring in my mind, yet I always seem to go
the same way and step upon many of the same rocks, most of which don’t move.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This made me think about what a creature of habit I truly
am. I certainly could have admitted to that before my recent jaunt along the
Maine coast. I’m very much a creature of habit. I do things the same way all
the time, either because they’re the right way <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(at least in my mind) or it is the way I’m
comfortable. The former is certainly acceptable but the latter is not. I want
to do things the right way but I don’t want to do things just because I’m
comfortable. People can do the same thing over and over again for years and
never really gain anything.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That’s not how I want to be. Of course, that’s exactly what
I have been at times in my life. It reminds me of a sports psychology class I sat
in once. The prof used a clock to demonstrate how one either progresses or
sticks themselves in a rut.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You set your goal (whatever that thing is that makes you
happy) for straight up 12. Then the clock ticks. You hit an obstacle at 3.
Maybe you’re stuck there because you can’t get past that hurdle. The clock
reverts back and you begin again but never get past that stumbling block at 3. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know many people like that. They’ve faced
that challenge and never overcome it. They’ve been stuck at 3 ever since. Some
get past that hurdle but hit another barrier at 6. Then maybe they get snagged
at 9. I’d say I might be somewhere between 6 and 9 right now. Hopefully, if I
get over the next hurdle, I’m home free.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Life is a constant progression, a moving forward. But it is
often too easy to get stuck in one place. We get accustomed to doing the same
thing and never learning, never growing and never making progress. Some of my
greatest moments in life have come after the hardest of times. I wouldn’t want
to live those moments over again, but I’m better for that challenge and
learning from them.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My knee injury gave me a determination and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>mission that made me stronger as well as
healthier. My father’s death and speaking at his memorial service gave me
confidence and a fearlessness about <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>myself.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But I don’t want life’s hardships to make me better. A
doctor’s bill and physical therapy shouldn’t be what moves me out of my rut. As
I was told recently, pain shouldn’t be the pathway to my heart – but it often
is. I want to learn and grow no matter what. It is what I think we all should aspire toward.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My father was like that. It was my brother’s own speech at
his service that helped me see that. My father always strove to learn more and
educate himself and build his knowledge, whether it was through reading or
studying or watching the history channel. He never stopped feeding his mind and
subsequently fueling his heart and soul.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My grandfather was somewhat similar. I realized recently
that I’m about the same age now as he was when his second wife (my grandmother)
died from tuberculosis. My Dad was just 10 at the time. My grandfather dealt
with that loss and was always an example of devotion to his boys and a faithful
servant to his God, despite the losses of his life.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Another person I admire and have learned from is George Harrison.
He’s my favorite Beatle, because he’s the soul of that band. He was a balance
of Paul’s sappy love songs and John’s edgy rebellion. The person it seemed that
both Paul and John stroved to be was somebody like George. And it didn’t take
him long to realize that life was far more than just the fame, success and
money that came with being a Beatle. George devoted his life to
seek a higher calling and live a deeper meaning.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That’s what I want in my life. I want to keep that search
going and continue learning and growing into the person I am meant to be.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I met a man who was a professor of the Gaelic language last
fall. When I introduced myself, he raved about my name and how Kevin in Gaelic
means something blessed and special. I can’t remember his exact words but the
name itself spoke to a higher calling. When he left, the last thing he said to
me was to "live up" to my name. Those words have stuck with me ever since.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My goals in life haven’t changed much. I want a job that
makes me happy and makes a difference. I want to find a love of my life to
share everything with, unconditional and devoted. I want to make a difference. I want to be
happy. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want to live righteously with
honesty and integrity. I want to think deeper and love stronger and live
larger.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I know how hard all that can be. I’ve failed at it at times
in my life. I’ve given up on some of it at times in my life. But I’ve kept
striving and kept learning and kept trying to understand what it takes to get
where I want to go. Sometimes I’ve needed a push.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I recently read a sermon by Harvard’s Peter Gomes. He talked
about farmers preparing for the unknown and living their faith. They work
diligently on the things that they need to do around their farm, doing so
amidst the faith and trust that their due diligence will be rewarded in their
harvest.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s kind of like basketball games being won in practice
beforehand. It is the hard work and lessons learned in those moments of
preparation that bring out the best in the results.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now I don’t know exactly what life has in store for me.
Frankly, that drives me crazy. I’m a bit of a plotter and planner. I hate not
knowing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It feeds my fear and tries my
patience. But I also know that God isn’t done with me yet. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I do the work, God has a plan and a reward
for me. That’s the agreement we have. I’m just trying to live up to my end.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So I move forward. I cultivate like the farmer. I try to
seek new paths. I hope to learn new lessons. I hope to grow and find the
purpose fitting of my name. And someday, I just might land on a rock that
doesn’t move.</div>
Kevin C. Millshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15891329451132920851noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8900402776526818141.post-31380316047794761482013-05-29T13:07:00.003-07:002013-05-29T13:09:33.808-07:00A Moment To Savor<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK9bo8NNwUTS-fDBVGdZ6S19ceq2xJ0pyHXNL79R_trhcsr0xLUUSzpHCuD_iJHMdpVXlQ0TcQORFgoHCNYjtf7G3sSdj2PSdnJRnz22t0YwANO3lzrDCOTRT8ec9NVL61F6_6IML7LGx7/s1600/398591_345306195489081_15285659_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK9bo8NNwUTS-fDBVGdZ6S19ceq2xJ0pyHXNL79R_trhcsr0xLUUSzpHCuD_iJHMdpVXlQ0TcQORFgoHCNYjtf7G3sSdj2PSdnJRnz22t0YwANO3lzrDCOTRT8ec9NVL61F6_6IML7LGx7/s200/398591_345306195489081_15285659_n.jpg" width="185" /></a>Just one look at that photo, brings it all back.<br />
It might very well be the only picture I've seen of the Portland Pirates locker room after their Calder Cup championship win. The image of Kevin Kaminski tipping the Calder Cup has become an iconic one for that night.<br />
If you stumble across the photo that hasn't been cropped. That's me to the right of Killer, wearing a white shirt and black vest. I bet that vest still smells of champagne and Gatorade.<br />
That celebration was May 30, 1994 - almost 20 years ago.<br />
I still remember much of that night like it was yesterday. There's Byron Dafoe streaking through the hallway. A grinning Olie Kolzig standing on the base of the lockers, dancing and extending his hand to me for a high-five. There was Sergei Gonchar hovering around the keg. There was the river of Gatorade being dumped upon me. There was champagne squirted in my eyes. There was a story to get, actually a couple since I was doing a second day follow-up as well. There was my sip out of the Calder Cup. There was my interview with Brian Curran, of which I could take no notes because my notebook was soaked. And there was my drive home, smelling of champagne and Gatorade and the thought that if a cop stopped me and wondered why I smelled boozy, he'd never believe my story.<br />
Much of the experience that night is chronicled in my book Sidelined.<br />
<i>"I still don't know who did it, but some player saw the opportunity to get coach and media with the Gatorade bucket all in one shot. We were all soaked, and there was much rejoicing."</i><br />
It is one of those events that I'm sure the players still talk about fondly and an experience that truly matches nothing else in my professional career.<br />
One of my goals when I entered sports journalism was to cover pro hockey at some level. Being a somewhat regular beat writer for the Portland Pirates was the kind of thing I had hoped for. Afterall, they replaced the Maine Mariners in Portland.<br />
I grew up following the Mariners as a kid. All those Mariner games I attended helped nurture my love of hockey. I took shots at goalie Pete Peeters at the Mariners annual charity carnival. I got Drew Callander to speak to my junior high school English class. I met Mel Hewitt at the Hannaford in Gorham when I worked there and he lived in town. It was a thrill to meet and interview Dave Brown years later for an award-winning story I did on hockey tough guys. I still remember the Mike Emrick call of the Mariners winning goal the night they won the Calder Cup in their first year. "Dunlop, Gorence, Hill, Barnes and Bathe ... Let's the shot go ... Score !!!" I can walk around the Cumberland County Civic and tell people I was at the Bud Stefanski game, and they know exactly what I'm talking about. I was also there when Steve Tsujiura flipped an opponent judo style - not just once but twice, while wearing those infamous Cooperalls.<br />
One of my first stories I did for the Sun Journal was on the Maine Mariners. The first game of theirs I covered was a thrill, especially since I got to me legendary coach Herb Brooks that day - following him to his team's bus and interviewing him there.<br />
That Pirates Calder Cup championship win came in the team's first season also. I remember thinking that there would likely be more celebrations like it. I had been to a couple of Maine Mariner championship parades as a kid. The Pirates appeared to be a strong organization with a commitment to winning and a roster full or promising talent.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXm7uIrfTqppvDw7sxdVt6omdIWkrOLpSOa28Gqt6GYXqskFPlcWds2j_dlY1zBs-sotpUrkDFcLQMPx-DY0nyJkyArpWfGOsRGr5y_zoGBuB-MlAT_Jxa9Hd9bN6rnqYDTnestbmIOQVd/s1600/Pirates-Pics-10-28-06-022.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXm7uIrfTqppvDw7sxdVt6omdIWkrOLpSOa28Gqt6GYXqskFPlcWds2j_dlY1zBs-sotpUrkDFcLQMPx-DY0nyJkyArpWfGOsRGr5y_zoGBuB-MlAT_Jxa9Hd9bN6rnqYDTnestbmIOQVd/s200/Pirates-Pics-10-28-06-022.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
But for the Pirates, that Calder Cup win would be the only one - at least so far. They had other chances. The following year, they were one of the best teams in the league and lost in the first round. I still remember that locker room too. A stark difference as I had a very sullen conversation with the Nelson brothers (in photo above) after that loss.<br />
A few years later, the Pirates reached the Calder Cup finals again but lost in the final game in Rochester. In fact, all of my other playoff seasons with the Pirates ended in defeat. It had me looking for the Andrew Brunette's, or Kent Hulst's or Mike Peluso's, the guys that are willing to talk and say something good despite the hurt of a loss.<br />
It has been a few years since I was on the American Hockey League beat on a regular basis. I don't miss the extra travel or added workload - much of which had to come on my own time. But during the hockey playoffs, I do tend to miss all that goes with the playoff hockey atmosphere. <br />
So all those eerily silent locker rooms reminds me of that joyous night in Portland in which celebration was in order. The champagne was flowing. The Gatorade was being dumped. There was a keg in the locker room. There was a reporter with a champagne bottle stuffed down his pants (thankfully, not me) And a good time was had by all. It was an amazing and wonderful night to experience and be part of it in my own way. It wasn't my celebration. I didn't win anything. But it was a joy to see a bunch of great guys that I had gotten to know enjoy the rewards of their success. I remember and cherish that experience like the guys that actually won the title do. It was just one of those special times for that team, and I had the pleasure and responsibility to follow it and write about it.<br />
And it reminds me to enjoy every wonderful moment because you never know when or if they'll happen again.Kevin C. Millshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15891329451132920851noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8900402776526818141.post-85169509899490453182013-05-22T08:21:00.002-07:002013-05-22T08:39:18.411-07:00Born To Shimmer<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnGDmeYSDg3H2j0kCCFRR_9dwBbzhB3vrqglf7bTDjUEkd_CV8KmNy4k3iqIlAbNY6_CeEPA7LwA7V3kkMpQqopsCf5CKpPJfqO7KNxVmkWugy1t9sAOvjyPYemLXdNtsYdMAHIbu0ClwS/s1600/valentine-heart-radiates-red-rays-love-12811489.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnGDmeYSDg3H2j0kCCFRR_9dwBbzhB3vrqglf7bTDjUEkd_CV8KmNy4k3iqIlAbNY6_CeEPA7LwA7V3kkMpQqopsCf5CKpPJfqO7KNxVmkWugy1t9sAOvjyPYemLXdNtsYdMAHIbu0ClwS/s200/valentine-heart-radiates-red-rays-love-12811489.jpg" width="200" /></a>We're born to shimmer.<br />
That's what I believe. We were all created with something special about us. A truth, a light, a love and a purpose. We're created as a promise to the future - the coming of something wonderful and amazing.<br />
Yet, sometimes we don't get there.<br />
One of my favorite songs is Shimmer by Shawn Mullins.<br />
<i>"We're born to shimmer<br />We're born to shine<br />We're born to radiate <br />We're born to live <br />We're born to love<br />We're born to never hate..."</i><br />
<br />
But sometimes we are taught to hate. We're even too quick to do so.<br />
Just yesterday, when the news broke about the arrest of a suspect in the murder of a 15-year old girl, I learned that people within an hour of the news were already posting hateful words on the suspects' Facebook page.<br />
I certainly don't condone what he's arrested for. I assume the police got the right guy. I hope they did. I hope this kid gets the justice he deserves. I'm disgusted and saddened by what he might have done. But to go so far as to post hatred on his page, I won't do that. I'm better than that. I'm stunned that so many others are so quickly motivated to do so. Isn't stooping to such hateful actions just answering the kid's evil with more?<br />
I know people were saddened to learn the girl wasn't found alive. I'm sure many were emotional and even furious about the waste of such a life and senselessness of the whole thing. We should be angry about the violence and senseless loss of life we see every day. But is demonstrating our own hate, really the answer?<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/9doqLZdSQfQ?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Wouldn't it have been better to show empathy for the mourning family? Or show appreciation to the efforts of the wardens and police who worked so hard in this case? Or support the searchers that volunteered to help find this girl? Or bond together as a community and rise and grow from such tragedy? There were so many other options, positive steps to take amidst the sadness - rather than resort to more hatred.<br />
One of my favorite books is The Killer Angels by Michael Shaara. In that book, Joshua Chamberlain talks about man and equality. He says he believes that every man has a divine spark and that is what makes us human.<br />
I think we all have that divine spark. That is what makes us shimmer. But too often people dim that light inside. We groom the hatred, anger and bitterness inside. Soon that overwhelms the love that is our true center.<br />
I see it everyday. It's in our politics. It's in our work place. It's in the day-to-day happenings of our lives. People are living their anger and bitterness and expressing their hatred. Who knows what circumstances have bred those feelings. It has become easier to show our displeasure and express our anger than it is to show our care and love.<br />
That's not how we were created. That's not the core of who we are as humans. That's not our purpose.<br />
It is too easy to forget that and live in that darkness and not feel the shimmer in us all.<br />
But as we dispatch this anger and hatred and shake demons that haunt us, our hearts become less hard. The shine begins to radiate again. That's what is in our nature. It's what we were born to do. We can make a difference rather than make a stink about something.<br />
That's what our instinct should be - to shimmer, shine, radiate, love and release the hate. Kevin C. Millshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15891329451132920851noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8900402776526818141.post-13248035567050245352013-05-14T10:58:00.000-07:002013-05-14T10:58:25.954-07:00My Song<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
<o:RelyOnVML/>
<o:AllowPNG/>
</o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
</xml><![endif]--><br />
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:TrackMoves/>
<w:TrackFormatting/>
<w:PunctuationKerning/>
<w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/>
<w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>
<w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent>
<w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>
<w:DoNotPromoteQF/>
<w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther>
<w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian>
<w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:SnapToGridInCell/>
<w:WrapTextWithPunct/>
<w:UseAsianBreakRules/>
<w:DontGrowAutofit/>
<w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/>
<w:DontVertAlignCellWithSp/>
<w:DontBreakConstrainedForcedTables/>
<w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/>
<w:Word11KerningPairs/>
<w:CachedColBalance/>
</w:Compatibility>
<m:mathPr>
<m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/>
<m:brkBin m:val="before"/>
<m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/>
<m:smallFrac m:val="off"/>
<m:dispDef/>
<m:lMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:rMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/>
<m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/>
<m:intLim m:val="subSup"/>
<m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/>
</m:mathPr></w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
DefSemiHidden="true" DefQFormat="false" DefPriority="99"
LatentStyleCount="267">
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="0" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Normal"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="heading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="35" QFormat="true" Name="caption"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="10" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" Name="Default Paragraph Font"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="11" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtitle"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="59" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
</w:LatentStyles>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-qformat:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin-top:0in;
mso-para-margin-right:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt;
mso-para-margin-left:0in;
line-height:115%;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:11.0pt;
font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif";
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;}
</style>
<![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<o:shapedefaults v:ext="edit" spidmax="1026"/>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<o:shapelayout v:ext="edit">
<o:idmap v:ext="edit" data="1"/>
</o:shapelayout></xml><![endif]-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
What song am I?</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2s6brYGduIY5sSsh5OzDEJzNCtRdRxHrNhMODcAkzysbJTbqYfqvlWhAQM0dpxBTELYOrrUYF4lM6Ir_FtPy55UZVjugAhr662cjXke98vnRU1KmCzNYt-AszROO1cuXwwYwSKWzpHXBG/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2s6brYGduIY5sSsh5OzDEJzNCtRdRxHrNhMODcAkzysbJTbqYfqvlWhAQM0dpxBTELYOrrUYF4lM6Ir_FtPy55UZVjugAhr662cjXke98vnRU1KmCzNYt-AszROO1cuXwwYwSKWzpHXBG/s200/images.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What is the song that is so much a part of me or so
associated with me that the second anyone hears it, I’m the one they think of?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I pondered that question recently.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A friend of mine emailed me about how he had been at lunch
and had heard the Gordon Lightfoot song “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.”
The mere mention of that song reminds us all of a friend and his big goofy
grin. It immediately prompts a quick toast to our to-soon-to-be deceased and
sorely missed brother, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rob.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I can imagine Rob getting a huge thrill and laugh over the
fact that we think of him every time we hear that song. And now it seems we
here it often. It must be Rob’s way of reminding us he’s there.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It really was just a joke to begin with. We were in a bar
and a friend of ours was singing there. He broke into that Gordon Lightfoot
song. We might have even requested it. As he began playing the opening chords,
Rob looked at us and declared himself the lone survivor of the Edmund
Fitzgerald. He beamed that big goofy grin, and we all laughed riotously. We can
all recall that moment and see that grin as if it was yesterday.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He died a few years later but as the song says, his “legend
lives on.” When we were recently in Florida, we conned a karaoke regular to
sing the song for us. It isn’t an easy song to sing but he gave it a try and we
all toasted our friend.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now Rob is forever linked to “The Wreck of the Edmund
Fitzgerald.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So that made me wonder what song would I be forever linked
to?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve got a whole catalog of songs that remind me of others. I
once joked that I should write a book about what songs remind me of which
girls. I figured I’d make a lot of enemies that way. I just heard a song the
other day that reminded me of a girl in college, but I realized that song and
the story behind it might not make the book. That’s a story that likely will
just stay with me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But I’m not sure what song defines me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There are songs I like of a rebellious nature that I like to
feel as my own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s Motley Crue’s
"Wild Side" but I’m really not THAT wild. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love the Levellers “One Way” or even better “A
Life Less Ordinary.” I think that might define me better than most. U2 has some
great anthems that I identify with but I’m not sure they’re my songs. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I think of some of my other favorite
artists,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the Beatles, George Harrison, the Smithereens, the
BoDeans, REM, Peter Gabriel, and Richard Shindell , they all have songs I truly
love dearly but I can’t really make any of them mine. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I do remember a friend saying once that when he heard a
Smithereens song, he thought of me – only because I was the only die-hard
Smithereens fan he knew. In fact, there are more Smithereens songs and BoDeans
songs that remind me of other people than they do myself.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Maybe I should Facebook message Pat from the Smithereens or
Kurt from the BoDeans and get them to write me an anthem. I’ve recently had the
urge to write songs again myself. Maybe I’ll write my own.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But really a song that kind of serves as a lasting legacy to
me isn’t one I create. It is a song that fits me or reminds people of me. In a
way, Rob defined his song in an unintended manner. I might inspire it or help
prompt someone linking a song to me but I don’t see me creating that link
intentionally.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My song would have to be chosen by others, maybe with a little bit of inpiration from me. They would be the music
and the words that make them think of me, hopefully in a good way.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, it makes me curious. What song am I?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Kevin C. Millshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15891329451132920851noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8900402776526818141.post-88638809562363030922013-04-23T16:51:00.000-07:002013-04-23T16:52:00.783-07:00When the F-Bombs Fall<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU_yhr8o0-8GQN4jf9i0Ef3sgiuTqv7y25mVhG_Qi0POcVpE3KHEO_sjopKGWBLiXnXXRHENxLf5hsKZlcbCbRJNRtuies6bH9aVPf_STRJHDi28y5Eh0hgDfByyOLVNVTxFc4O7ObdG_D/s1600/David-Ortiz-Red-Sox-Boston-speech-shirt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU_yhr8o0-8GQN4jf9i0Ef3sgiuTqv7y25mVhG_Qi0POcVpE3KHEO_sjopKGWBLiXnXXRHENxLf5hsKZlcbCbRJNRtuies6bH9aVPf_STRJHDi28y5Eh0hgDfByyOLVNVTxFc4O7ObdG_D/s200/David-Ortiz-Red-Sox-Boston-speech-shirt.jpg" width="167" /></a>When the news is all about an F-Bomb instead of real bombs, that's probably a good thing.<br />
Red Sox slugger made news this weekend with his speech prior to Saturday's baseball game at Fenway Park. Let's just say he accentuated his speech with some flowery language that drew cheers from some while others were covering their children's ears. Meanwhile, networks and the FCC might have been using strong language of their own as they realized that Ortiz had just dropped the F-Bomb on live television.<br />
Soon came praise for Ortiz and his speech and criticism too. And t-shirts. They had to turn it into a t-shirt. <br />
Now I'm not one to curse very often. If I'm talking like that, it is a sure sign of a wealth of discontent - and a warning to keep your distance.<br />
<br />
Otherwise, I try to avoid such language. I hear it too often from too many people. I believe we should elevate our language instead of lower it into the gutter of society. I've seen quality and intelligent people suddenly appear and sound like lesser versions of themselves because of their language. It pains me to see and hear people represent themselves in such a way. If you sound and talk like a low-class buffoon, people just might see you as such as well.<br />
But in the case of Ortiz, I cut him some slack. Thankfully, the FCC did also. They recognized the situation and gave him the benefit of the doubt. It was an emotional moment and his language reflected the power and defiance that it represented.<br />
I remember a professor of mine in college talking about obscene language. His point was that profanity was properly used when describing things that are profane. He cited the phrase "War is hell" as an example - even though that is hardly obscene in today's speak.<br />
Since then, I've seen a place for obscenity. I still don't like to hear it and I won't use it in any of my books. I figure the world has enough of it without me adding to the profanity-lace noise we hear.<br />
I don't like to hear it for the sake of cursing or as a means to be
funny. That's just idiotic and a ploy to make up for a lack of
substance. <br />
But quite often I hear strong language in songs and see the power and descriptive nature that it brings. In one song, Bruce Cockburn sings with conviction, "If I had a rocket launcher, some son of a bitch would die." There's power in those words. Same with in his song, "Call It Democracy." He sings "You don't really give a flying fuck about people in misery." The obscene describing the obscene.<br />
There's all kinds of debate now as to whether Big Papi should have his mouth washed out with soap or if it was the proper thing to say. Certainly, it wasn't something kids probably needed to hear, but it also provided children a lesson in where profanity might actually serve a purpose.Sometimes the situation is just that obscene.<br />
Ortiz was speaking from the heart and speaking with emotion. He was talking about a week in Boston that was pretty hellish - and that's putting it mildly.<br />
Sometimes when there are no words to describe something, an F-Bomb just might do. Kevin C. Millshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15891329451132920851noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8900402776526818141.post-28644194350991847262013-04-18T10:09:00.001-07:002013-04-18T10:16:15.499-07:00I See The Light<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEKrjwg_hgQRcpAKzxrcTk5W6VS8-uMaHWxAFXGvO4U8dcWxZdb8z-bvS8eTFAymSXIhkKADselHr7spn3QobxlIkX3t5SIE_Sr2Lt5Sv3fA4zjHau0PHJeNOmYYx6x0s7jpI44Oz1-9T6/s1600/candles1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEKrjwg_hgQRcpAKzxrcTk5W6VS8-uMaHWxAFXGvO4U8dcWxZdb8z-bvS8eTFAymSXIhkKADselHr7spn3QobxlIkX3t5SIE_Sr2Lt5Sv3fA4zjHau0PHJeNOmYYx6x0s7jpI44Oz1-9T6/s320/candles1.jpg" width="234" /></a></div>
I see the light.<br />
I see it in our thoughts and our actions. I feel it in our souls and our hearts. I sense it in our hope and our dreams.<br />
There is light there. It may be obscured by darkness at times. But there is light.<br />
The last week has been full of darkness. I've felt the effects of it all. I still feel a sense of anger, betrayal and hurt. There's been a shattering of trust and a shaking of my faith. I want vengeance. I want justice. I want my anger to defend my hurt. My open hand is a clenched fist feeling rage from within.<br />
But anger, vengeance and more negative feelings doesn't fix the pain I feel. Evil only breeds more evil. It doesn't stop it. That clenched fist can punch something, but that usually only leads to a hurt fist - trust me, I know.<br />
So, instead, I have light.<br />
I have the shining examples of the heroes of the last week. I have the inspiration of people's word and actions. I have comfort in a community that feels some of the same pain as I.<br />
I am encouraged that our light is far brighter and more empowering and greater than any evil. That encourages me and lifts me up despite feeling so down.<br />
Just last week, I almost left Facebook. I was tired off all the griping, political propaganda, mindless blather that just filled my timeline with negativity. I was in a bad place and was tired of hearing the world's complaining. It was a "Goodbye, cruel world, I'm leaving you today" kind of moment. I was one click away. And I probably would have done it had it it not been for my need to keep an author page.<br />
So my Facebook page remains. After Monday's bombing, it became my community. I felt their hurt and I took comfort in sharing it with them. It became my platform. I posted words that inspired me and enabled me to seize my day and not let others define it. Maybe it helped others. At the least, it shined a light instead in a place that lacked it.<br />
<br />
I was in New York City last month. I spent back-to-back nights at Madison Square Garden. The people there were amazing. From the parking lot attendant to the ushers and other employees of MSG, they were welcoming, friendly and frankly, a joy to talk with and interact with. It felt so wonderful to feel such kindness and desire to help and share their positive attitudes. It was a gift of grace and made me feel amazing because they gave such kindness to someone they barely new.<br />
It reminded me of the power of love and living to help and heal instead of for blame and negativity. It was proof of what a feeling of community can do to lift up instead of tear down.<br />
Since then I've seen the other examples. Just this week, a day after the bombings in Boston, I read someone griping how President Obama hadn't lowered the flag fast enough. Really? In this moment of mourning, this is what is important?<br />
I read about someone who was disturbed by a stranger tossing a banana peel on his lawn. He proceed to approach them, curse them and disparaged their race - all in a matter of seconds - over a banana peel.<br />
This week, we had the vote on gun control. When it didn't pass, I saw numerous posts of people gloating and mocking the president. It just disgusts me. Is this what we've become?<br />
It is bad enough that our politics and leaders are so polarized that they can't get anything done for the sake of their people, but do we as citizens have to mirror that? As a nation and as humans, we're better than that.<br />
We have so many wonderful things in common - our love, our hope and our humanity. Yet, it is our anger and our disagreements that set us apart. We let that darkness define us. We let our desire for blame and excuses overwhelm our hearts and dictate our actions and attitudes. <br />
We prove otherwise in these moments. Unfortunately, it takes tragedy like this and our lowest moments to bring out the strength and power of humanity. But it is still there.<br />
A group of my high school friends have already begun plotting out a trip to
the Boston Marathon next year in honor of our friends who died on 911
at the World Trade Center. Our answer to our anger and our pain is
unity, solidarity and a fighting spirit to honor our friend and brother. <br />
I'm not real good at forgive and forget. My heart doesn't forgive easily and my head forgets very little. As much as I've tried to shine my light and be illuminated by that of others, I still feel that anger, betrayal and hurt inside. This is a personal pain I feel. I still struggle with it. And I expect that I'll fail at times to live this truth.<br />
But I know deep inside, my light is stronger than any dark feelings that exist. And I know that is the case with all of us. The world around us is what we make it. And we can make it right.<br />
I can't make the world safer from bombers. I can't legislate gun control. I can't even prevent people, even those closest to me, from hurting me. But I can be strong. I can be a voice of love, peace and hope amidst a chorus of blame, bitterness and excuses. I can shine a light where it is dark. I can make some joyful noise where it is silent.<br />
I see the light. I see it in me. I see it in all of us. It empowers us to illuminate rather than desecrate.<br />
There will be darkness. There will be evil. But there is also light.Kevin C. Millshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15891329451132920851noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8900402776526818141.post-7584111679485642602013-04-16T07:45:00.002-07:002013-04-16T17:16:01.185-07:00Too Close To Home<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7MgpXqbMkToPkGYeI8n1RnFz5g-0jpf3bT5IOm9bQTrBHLikbQcZQNB5ol9AShbJxCzYNFMTL33ClwJuAdoKabWpyJ9HV_N-gyD_-wiotV8RutIJHtHKmHORqUw4UuriymfyC9RDfr-GY/s1600/555819_10201167224327865_1652447347_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7MgpXqbMkToPkGYeI8n1RnFz5g-0jpf3bT5IOm9bQTrBHLikbQcZQNB5ol9AShbJxCzYNFMTL33ClwJuAdoKabWpyJ9HV_N-gyD_-wiotV8RutIJHtHKmHORqUw4UuriymfyC9RDfr-GY/s320/555819_10201167224327865_1652447347_n.jpg" width="320" /></a>It is easy to feel desensitized with all that we see in the news these days.<br />
Some horrific event happens somewhere far away. It grabs our attention and tugs at our hearts. Yet it still feels like a television show, being acted out on all the cable news channels we're riveted to.<br />
I even feel that in the newsroom. Some breaking story involving a murder or something tragic, it just feels like a story. There's no human face to me and no connection.<br />
I have a connection to Boston. I lived there. I worked there. I've been to concerts at almost every venue around the city. I've been to sporting events there, including the Boston Marathon. When I first learned of the bombing Monday, I knew all kinds of people who very well could have been in the area.<br />
During 911, as I sat horrified and stunned at what I saw, it still seemed like some bad action/disaster movie. I knew one or two people that lived in New York but I felt no true connection to the city or its people. Little did I know at that time that one of my childhood friends had been killed in the World Trade Center that day. A life I was still mourning just a week ago today on his birthday.<br />
Boston isn't some far off city. It is the city I went to as a kid on family vacations. It was the big time for a kid from a somewhat small town in Maine. I learned the nation's history by walking the Freedom Trail and taking in all the sights of our nation's rebellion. I still remember walking from the place of the Boston Massacre with my Dad to Causeway Street for the Celtics game that night. It felt like we had walked all over Boston. It's probably only a few streets away. The name Crispus Attucks still sticks in my head. He was the slave merchant killed in the Boston Massacre. <br />
As a kid I visited Boston quite a few times, attending Red Sox games on a occasion. We'd go to the aquarium, hoping to see Andre the Seal in his winter home - or his girlfriend Smoke. My very first Red Sox game was on Patriot's Day. We went and watched some of the Marathon afterwards. I was an excited kid with a brand new Sox hat and innocent to the world in the big city.<br />
Our high school senior trip was to Boston. Then when I went to college it was on the North Shore. Our freshman trip was going into the city. I'd go into Boston for sporting events and concerts. Then I lived there, living off outer Beacon Street while I commuted through the city every day to work at the Boston Globe. The majority of my record collection comes from Boston. When I wasn't working at the Globe, I sought out record shops all over the city. I have a Luxman stereo unit because of a store I saw one in near Boylston Street. I learned that the Luxman had far greater wattage than it was listed. My neighbors are still thrilled about that.<br />
As an adult, Boston has still been a frequent destination and a home away from home. There were more concerts. There were games at the new Garden, including the Frozen Four and the Hockey East Championships. I was elbowed, pushed and shoved at Filene's as crazed potential brides tried to outrace my sister for a wedding dress. I tried to read War and Peace on Boston's subways on my way to work - and failed.<br />
I went to the Boston Marathon one year. My brother-in-law was one of those runners for charity, like those that were approaching the finish line Monday when the bomb went off. He was running for Dana Farber and his daughter, a courageous cancer survivor. We were a mile from the finish and his kids met him at the finish line and crossed with him.<br />
My experiences are probably just like everyone else I know. When the news broke Monday, there were a wealth of people I knew that could have been there. My sister and her family still live in the area. I have friends that are runners. They could have been in the race or spectators. There were media members that I knew. They were locked down in the hotel. The same hotel where we celebrated my brother-in-law's accomplishment a few years ago.<br />
Fortunately, through Facebook, all the people that I knew that were there got back safely, friends and colleagues. They're safe but traumatized. The innocence and spirit of Patriots Day in Boston may never be the same.<br />
These events are the kinds of things we see on TV. They happen elsewhere. They don't happen where we live. Boston isn't my residence. It isn't my backyard. But it feels pretty damn close.And knowing how many friends and family I have that could have easily been there, it was too damn close.<br />
Whether it be these kinds of events or the rash of shootings, they seem to be getting closer. I drove by Newtown, Connecticut a few weeks ago on my way to New York City. Suddenly, there it was, an even more real place to me than what I saw on TV.<br />
It all makes me wonder what is happening to this world. These things didn't happen when I was a kid. We didn't worry about school shootings. I didn't wonder about going to Boston and wondering if terrorism might strike.<br />
Bill Richard and his family were in Boston seeking the kind of joy and memories I shared with my family. His son was killed. His wife and daughter severely wounded. Two brothers lost legs. Many others were injured, wounded and scarred for life. Many of them are children. All of them were enjoying a beautiful day, celebrating life and enjoying Boston. Something we've all done. <br />
We can all debate the how and why the escalation of violence, evil and hate has risen to the level it has. I don't know all the reasons. I don't know all the answers.<br />
I just know it feels closer than ever today. That's scary and heartbreaking. And amidst <br />
all that hate, I simply search for peace and hope and love. Kevin C. Millshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15891329451132920851noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8900402776526818141.post-27279298246481563922012-10-16T08:38:00.003-07:002012-10-16T08:38:28.113-07:00The ListThe list is out. Yes, that list.<br />
Around Maine, just about everybody knows what list I mean.<br />
There's been a prostitution case in the news of late. The woman charged is a Zumba instructor and her list of clients has been on the verge of release for days now. It supposedly features politicians, attorneys and a TV personality.<br />
The list has been chatted about for days on social media sites. With the release of the first batch of names Monday, those sites are abuzz with comments, jokes and gawkers. I turned on a sports talk show this morning and this is what they were discussing.<br />
Smart alecks and jokesters are getting all the mileage they can out of the situation. I've made a few cracks myself. I'm even expecting an email from a college friend who typically contacts me when something in Maine hits the national news. <br />
The media is checking their morals to decide what to do. WCSH created a special banner and link on its web page so voyeurs could find the list immediately. They included a disclaimer that stated that since the names didn't include addresses or other means of identifying these men charged, that confusion and mistaken assumptions could be made if people have the same name. Sorry about that, folks. But they got the names up on their site really, really fast and can puff up their chests about breaking news. I assume it might be a safe bet that the TV personality isn't one of theirs. Boy, would their face be red. <br />
Another TV news site, WMTW posted the story on their site but referred people to the Kennebunk Police Department page, where the names are listed.<br />
Newspapers are trying to make the same decisions. To list or not to list. I'm curious to see what my own paper does, but at the same time, I could care less.<br />
First, people clamored for the names to be released. Now they don't like how they were released. Others have just waited to see the list and fill their insatiable need for whatever reading the names might do for them. It has been a constant dialogue for over a week, getting more mind-numbing with each passing day. <br />
Is this really all we have to focus on? Aren't we better than this? Is our time really best spent waiting on and salivating over the potential salacious and juicy details to come?<br />
So you read the names on the list. If there's nobody you know, then what? Or what if there is somebody you know on the list? Does that make you feel better? Are you anxious to judge or joke over the potential humiliation involved? Do you feel sorry or feel scorn for them?<br />
Maybe its like driving by a bad car accident where people like to slow down and gawk. Maybe it's a means for people to feel better about themselves. They can look at all those immoral names on the list and be glad that they're not those poor perverted saps.<br />
Unfortunately, I see this all as a prime example of all that's wrong with this society. We're a reality show world in which the sexier, slimier and divisive the narrative, the better. Rather than wallow in it, we should be rising above it. <br />
The men get charged. Their names become public knowledge. Good. They probably deserve it. But it shouldn't be our obsession. Are we any better than them if we're addicted to all the details and relish in them all? <br />
It reminds me why negative ads work in politics and why our elected officials talk to us like we're idiots. Because we allow them to. We don't elevate ourselves and our thinking. It allows for a blanket of dialogue that reaches the lowest common denominator among us. People believe the spin they're spoon fed. People focus on the style and not the substance. The political spin and extremist talk overwhelms us, but many accept it with apathy.<br />
The world is full of discontent and disillusionment. You can't help but see it in the course of a day. It can be a sad environment to exist in sometimes. Frankly, it is discouraging. But we can't dwell on what's wrong in this world. It is easy to be overwhelmed with that negative energy. We become only as good as the sludge we immerse ourselves in.<br />
That's why we must rise above the smut and mindless trappings of things like this. We must find ways to make the world better instead of reveling in the examples of its discontent. <br />
In this prostitution case, there are families involved. Wives, kids, brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers will all face scorn, scrutiny and shame over somebody's selfish act. Yet, we want to see those names so we know who they are. Does this make the world around us better? What is gained from this feeding frenzy over a Zumba intructor's fantastic failure?<br />
Lists about sex-crazed scumbags can serve their justice to the law breakers. They serve the rest of us nothing. <br />
We're better than this. We should prove it. We should rise above this kind of in-the-gutter focus. We should elevate our thoughts and our actions. Who knows, if we do this, maybe such lists become obsolete.Kevin C. Millshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15891329451132920851noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8900402776526818141.post-31690759869728144002012-09-14T12:08:00.000-07:002012-09-14T12:08:54.057-07:00Feeling GraveWEST BROOKSVILLE - I stood back and perused all the gravestones in front of me.<br />
Standing at Mount Rest Cemetery in West Brooksville, I could scan all the names and see various ancestors buried in all corners of this small Maine coastal town resting place.<br />
There were not only members of the Mills family but also families named Wasson, Douglass, Farnham (or Varnum) and Jones.<br />
As I realized how many ancestors were scattered around this small resting place, I realized that so many of the characters in my first novel, <i>Sons and Daughters of the Ocean</i>, were based on many of the people there.<br />
In fact, I started to do a quick mental checklist in my head and concluded that almost all of the characters in <i>Sons and Daughters</i> that were based on actual people were buried there. There was one that I knew that wasn't - because he was lost at sea. But then I discovered his stone (pictured below). Though he wasn't buried here, he was at least memorialized here with all the others.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2CB2SAOqz_EJadCi-DIfWbRaY8XNSmYdrdTCftbxCon1wDE39hPBlYPk46cCACh7NhvlD0xgyRVdS4BNAHBDSHKGTTCTevGsTfKuYbztnGTFsofwb4EQctyqjyV-FqF7GYxylOvVIzQ9K/s1600/305289_10151003055426090_1481559993_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2CB2SAOqz_EJadCi-DIfWbRaY8XNSmYdrdTCftbxCon1wDE39hPBlYPk46cCACh7NhvlD0xgyRVdS4BNAHBDSHKGTTCTevGsTfKuYbztnGTFsofwb4EQctyqjyV-FqF7GYxylOvVIzQ9K/s320/305289_10151003055426090_1481559993_n.jpg" width="191" /></a><i>Sons and Daughters of the Ocea</i>n is a historical novel based loosely on my ancestors that lived in various parts of Brooksville. It is a coming-of-age tale of sorts about three teens growing up in a small coastal village called Brooks Harbor. The shipbuilding and sea faring is the lifeblood of the town. And there in Mount Rest Cemetery, almost all the characters are buried. It was like my novel coming to life right there before me.<br />
I stopped by the stone of Mary Mills Tapley and her baby, whose tragic story opens my novel. She was my great grandfather's sister and Mary Miller Fuller in the book.<br />
The real life George Miller, Albert Miller and Sarah Dyer are buried there. The Watson's and the Dyer's that play prominent roles in the story are there. So are the Fuller's, though not related, their lives were interspersed with those of my ancestors. There was the real life Lizzie, one of my favorite characters. She actually died as a teen in real life, but I liked her character enough that I didn't want her to die young like in real life. So much so that she is still alive and well in my follow-up novel<i> Breakwater</i>.<br />
It dawned on me that in both of my novels, I shared the lives of so many people and told their stories. It was very powerful and a bit overwhelming to realize this.<br />
It truly made me feel guilty, as if I had intruded on their lives and exploited them.<br />
I felt the same feeling a week or so later. I was on the Victory Chimes anchored in Pulpit Harbor in North Haven. Not far from there is the cemetery on the island where my grandfather's first wife is buried. Her story is the basis for a character in <i>Breakwater</i>, as is the life of my grandfather and many other ancestors of that generation.<br />
Again, I felt as though I had taken advantage of them. I had used them. I felt a significant amount of responsibility in telling their stories and using their lives the way I did. I wondered if I did them justice. I wondered if I was true to who they were and what their lives were about.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMU6dl-Vvp8nUf_avj2QOmTxfw69dYaxmlEOsqSxqJQvGNLdJudhU969FcC-P23NnU5w7BmRMr_Hcm139F2doXVcMuAcB1qkcS_a-mYNEP5HfeS8Yu-rG9MTOxEjGKBP-m9WaCqF_dKeIR/s1600/300401_10151003050731090_434180824_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMU6dl-Vvp8nUf_avj2QOmTxfw69dYaxmlEOsqSxqJQvGNLdJudhU969FcC-P23NnU5w7BmRMr_Hcm139F2doXVcMuAcB1qkcS_a-mYNEP5HfeS8Yu-rG9MTOxEjGKBP-m9WaCqF_dKeIR/s320/300401_10151003050731090_434180824_n.jpg" width="191" /></a>None of this had come to mind when I wrote the two novels. I knew I was basing characters on the lives of these people. But - other than my grandfather - there was no feeling of any kind of responsibility toward them or their lives.<br />
Now I began to wonder if I had treated them carelessly and irresponsibly. I actually wondered if they'd be displeased with the work I had done.<br />
I mulled this all over a little longer. Then came the reflections of the 911 tragedy. I knew a couple of people that were killed on that day, including a childhood friend and neighbor.<br />
What struck me was the honor and reverence I tried to make, as did others, to the lives of the people that perished. I didn't want to mourn their tragedy. I wanted to celebrate their lives and acknowledge the impact they had on this world.<br />
Then I realized I had done the exact same thing with these characters in my novels. I had not exploited them. I had not used them. I had taken their stories, whether tragic, historic or heroic, and shared them. I had lifted them up and kept them alive and showed how their lives impacted the world around them.<br />
It still feels powerful and overwhelming. But I don't feel guilty. I still hope I did them justice and served them well. But I'm also excited about the fact that these people and their lives live on through my work, to some small extent.<br />
It is still a great responsibility to feel but a rewarding one as well.<br />
Kevin C. Millshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15891329451132920851noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8900402776526818141.post-89736637438779616382012-06-28T18:19:00.000-07:002012-06-28T18:56:26.958-07:00Lucky To Be AdoptedDid I ever tell you that I was adopted?<br />
<br />
Yep. I was taken in by an Afghani family back in the 1980's. They had boys my age that liked to play soccer. They had cute girls and they had a mother that cooked food like I'd never had before. It was a significant step into a new culture for me.<br />
<br />
Actually, my church had chosen to sponsor a refugee family from Afghanistan. I knew a little about the plight of the Afghani people after the Russians invaded but I didn't really know what to expect when this family came to Maine. The only experience I had with refugees was in a Tom Petty song.<br />
<br />
Our church was going to help them get settled and acclimate them to a new life in the United States. My parents were involved in the process, and I was just along for the ride.<br />
<br />
As I got to know the family, I couldn't help but spend more and more time with them. All that really mattered to me was that they had boys my age, pretty girls that would smile at me and a mother that could cook. It was no wonder that I found myself over to their house many an evening. And it always seemed that I'd arrive just a little prior to dinner. Funny how that'd happen.<br />
<br />
I knew I'd offend them if I didn't stay to eat with them, and I can still recall their mother saying "I like to see you eat". I certainly didn't want to disappoint her.<br />
<br />
Well, today, I sat down to an Indian food buffet with one of my Afghani brothers, Fawad Atebar. I hadn't seen him in about 30 years. He's a few years younger than I and almost as good looking. He and his wife and children were in Maine and he chased me down. It was wonderful to see him again and catch up on his, I mean our, family.<br />
<br />
It reminded me of those wonderful days with the Atebar family. His father was a major general in the Afghani army. He was forced to flee and wound up in the U.S. It was a difficult adjustment for a family that had everything back in Afghanistan but had to start over here.<br />
<br />
I remember playing soccer with the boys and even sister Reta would join us on occassion. I remember going to the movies and going swimming and just spending time with the Atebar family in their home. I met other members of the Afghani community. They were all wonderful people. I had one of the best and most competitive games of volleyball when myself and one other American joined a bunch of Afghani men for some fun and intense games.<br />
<br />
For a kid in high school, it was a tremendous learning experience. I learned all about their culture and the injustice of the Soviet invasion. I even wrote an essay in high school based on a story General Atebar told me. It was about Afghani children finding shiny objects that looked like toys, only to discover they were Russian mines that would blow up in the hands and faces of the innocent. A lot of my views on war and justice were certainly formed during that time.<br />
<br />
Growing up in Maine, I hadn't met a lot of people that were different from me. The red-headed red-necked kid from Texas that moved up the street from me was about as foreign as it got. The Atebar's had a different religion. They're culture was completely different to me. They looked different. I was the pale shaggy-haired white son.<br />
<br />
And did I mention the food? My family, you know the one I was born with, were never really adventurous when it came to meals. My Dad never could learn the difference between a taco and burrito. So Afghani food was completely new to me. I still don't know what the dishes were called. I just called them good. And I just know I still miss it after 30 years.<br />
<br />
They were good-hearted people. They had been through great hardship and faced adversity I couldn't imagine. Yet, they were kind, gracious and wonderful. They were my family.<br />
<br />
After living in Maine for two years or so, they moved out to California, where another son had settled. That was the last time I saw them or heard from them until reconnecting with two of my Afghani brothers via Facebook.<br />
<br />
When I talked to Fawad on the phone the other night, he told me how he had gone to visit my mother and how grateful his family is for what people like us did for them way back then. General Atebar now has 32 grandchildren. Fawad and his lovely wife have three of them. They are wonderful kids, one of which gave me a huge hug when she first met me and couldn't get enough hugs from her Uncle just before she left. It made a wonderful day that much greater.<br />
<br />
When I think about how well the family is doing now and the start they had here, I'm glad and proud to have been part of it. It is nice knowing that helping somebody in such a way can have such a wonderful impact. I really wasn't trying to do good, but I feel blessed to have had the opportunity to do so.<br />
<br />
But what amazes me most isn't what we were able to do for them back then. It is what they did for us. I've been thinking about all the benefits of being part of their family, all the fun we had, all the things I learned from them, the impact they had on the person that I've become.<br />
<br />
It was a great experience and a great gift to my life. I'm so lucky to have been adopted.<br />
<br />Kevin C. Millshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15891329451132920851noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8900402776526818141.post-61737739456222208872012-05-10T10:21:00.001-07:002012-05-10T10:21:46.582-07:00A new relationshipAfter a decade-plus relationship, we've decided to part ways.<br />
It wasn't because things weren't working. I just decided the time was right for something different. So I told my 1999 Toyota Corolla, 'It's not you, it's me.'<br />
This was after the dear soul hung on for dear life to get me to the Toyota dealership. It was a white-knuckle final ride up the Maine Turnpike to Augusta. With my muffler and entire exhaust system being held up by a coat hanger, my gas tank running dangerously empty and tempting fate with any old part on that aging bucket of bolts just waiting to give way, I held my breath and patted the dashboard lovingly as I inched my way closer and closer to my Corolla's final destination.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi3wgqPmBG4fEOcbXEfcHxaUX0TWy2nQSLfhzDSSsIC6ZwyKqOGB0EhtrJHIYFe7ANtJHVz27yF5_Eq25Inwvy9Gebm6CC_ZJlQRAoQ3zMq3iW-dzySxNLiwgV-kaoFtU56LG6hkTWbuyP/s1600/corolla.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi3wgqPmBG4fEOcbXEfcHxaUX0TWy2nQSLfhzDSSsIC6ZwyKqOGB0EhtrJHIYFe7ANtJHVz27yF5_Eq25Inwvy9Gebm6CC_ZJlQRAoQ3zMq3iW-dzySxNLiwgV-kaoFtU56LG6hkTWbuyP/s320/corolla.jpg" width="320" /></a>Since then, I have a new love. A black beauty that is quite RAVishing. I traded in the Corolla for a more powerful Toyota cousin, the RAV4.<br />
While I'm thrilled with the purchase and trying not to think about the debt I've just placed on my meager finances, I can't help but think fondly on those many years me and my Corolla spent together.<br />
Right from the first day, that car taught me a lesson.<br />
I went to Prime in Saco on a Saturday morning in the fall of 1998. I didn't really have the intention of buying a car that day. They happened to call my bluff and gave me a price I couldn't resist. I had perused the choice of cars and picked out a nice blue color on that cloudy day. Two days later, it was a bright sunny Monday and I discovered that the car I had bought wasn't blue but teal green. I made a mental note to never buy a car on a cloudy day.<br />
I proved I learned my lesson this week. I test drove my RAV4 on a nice sunny day and bought the black SUV in the rain the following day.<br />
I had over a decade of great memories with that Corolla. I kind of wish I could keep it around like an old abandoned row boat and make a planter of out, but as much as I loved that car, I didn't mind sending it on its way. I want to remember it in its prime.<br />
It was a spunky a little number. It could be fun to drive. It had some zip. It was a fun little fling while it lasted, based on simple reliability, economy and fitting into the parameters of my life at that time.<br />
The RAV4 feels more like a grown up car. It has just about everything except bells and whistles. I waited years to have a car with a CD player in it, but now I don't need one because I have a car with an IPod jack in it. It has 10 air bags (11 if you include me). I sit it in and hear the Pursuit of Happiness song "I'm an adult now" racing through my head. It has space for all the things my life needs to make space for - from people to all the stuff George Carlin often talked about. It has a seriousness about it - like serious power and acceleration with a V6 engine.<br />
Still, it is difficult to move on from one you've loved and lost.<br />
One of my favorite adventures with the Corolla was the day the town of Wiscasset made pieces of Maine history available to the public. The old schooners, the Hesper and Luther Little, had rested and rotted in the river for decades. They were icons for those that drove Route 1 on a regular basis. Time had taken its toll on them though. What hadn't broken apart and washed away was dredged up and dumped at the transfer station. Word was sent out that anyone interested in souvenirs of these two beloved vessels, could rummage through the debris on a particular fall morning.<br />
There I was bright and early ready to load up that Corolla with ship debris. You wouldn't believe how many schooner pieces you can stuff into a Corolla. I have one bean that was a good foot thick and about one Corolla in length. I barely fit across my backseat. I swear the Corolla sucked in its gut and held its breath as I slammed the backseat doors. I piled smaller pieces on top of it and loaded up the trunk. I dreamed of what I could have done had I had a truck, but the Corolla gave me every inch of space it could.<br />
My plan was to put these pieces on display at our cottage in Owls Head. But I couldn't deliver them directly that day. I had to cover a playoff soccer game in Auburn that afternoon. After that game went to penalty kicks, I raced down to Portland to cover a Pirates hockey game. It wasn't until about 11 p.m. that I headed for Owls Head.<br />
By the time I arrived, I didn't feel like emptying my car of the Hesper and Luther Little. So those pieces of maritime antiques sat in my car overnight. The next day, they were proudly put on display while the Corolla wreaked of an old ship for a couple weeks.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmJSx9Ks_q_W9ekYmAp3HUefp4fx58pBT_hsxQjjVj9z1E_RaK7h8T9aAerWoacqfDIgDZLwS51sFjOb2cbwU4zRwvSMUTuS4yZCQt84pE85hkKeDoR_PeZzcaC_ZYotjXYLGqhQa87EL6/s1600/rav.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmJSx9Ks_q_W9ekYmAp3HUefp4fx58pBT_hsxQjjVj9z1E_RaK7h8T9aAerWoacqfDIgDZLwS51sFjOb2cbwU4zRwvSMUTuS4yZCQt84pE85hkKeDoR_PeZzcaC_ZYotjXYLGqhQa87EL6/s320/rav.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
When I emptied my trunk before saying goodbye to the Corolla this week, there was a tiny sliver of wood way in the back. I assumed it was a piece left over from that day. I hoped it would increase the value of my Corolla but it didn't. Neither did the antique cassette tape that has been stuck in the cassette player for five or six years now.<br />
<br />
That day is one of the great memories I have of my Corolla. There were many more miles and many more adventures I had with that car. It served me well for a good many years.<br />
I'll feel bad that I've left that Corolla for another love. But time moves on. Life changes. Some things don't last forever, especially if its rusts in Maine weather.<br />
There's a new excitement to this new relationship. It offers me so much more than the Corolla ever could. I hope this new relationship endures as well as the previous one did and the adventures we share are equally memorable.<br />
While the Corolla is likely headed for a scrap heap somewhere, I still have its key, a lot of great memories and a great appreciation for the reliability and dedication it showed me for so many years.<br />
And if that isn't enough to keep me smiling, my RAV4 goes really, really fast !!!Kevin C. Millshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15891329451132920851noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8900402776526818141.post-68543598050239662472012-04-27T05:56:00.000-07:002012-04-27T05:56:03.909-07:00Happy Birthday To MeI almost asked for today off.<br />
It wasn't because I didn't want to work on my birthday. We have a sizable slate of games, and<span id="goog_1467179782"></span><span id="goog_1467179783"></span> I really didn't want to miss out.<br />
But my history of working on my birthday hasn't been good. Considering one of my worst experiences came last year on my birthday and since I just did a game Wednesday that lasted nearly three hours and totaled 40 runs, I fear the disaster that might be looming. In recent years it just seems like the job is sticking it to me on my birthday. And I wonder what the birthday gods have in store.<br />
It makes me wonder if I should go back to attending concerts on my birthday. After all, what could be better than seeing the Smithereens at the Paradise in Boston to celebrate? That's a fond birthday memory but one that came quite a while ago - before a job, life, and responsibility got in the way. <br />
So each year, I wonder if this year's present will be worse than last year's surprise.<br />
Last year, I was simply working in the office. I was paginating the scoreboard page - the sports page that has all the box scores that make sports fans go squinty-eyed before their time.<br />
It was supposed to be a relatively easy evening. I won't go into the whole story about our wire service and our change in computer operating systems. But let's just say that was the night the old system we were using to get wire agate chose to cease working, on my birthday, at around 9:30. I noticed at 10 p.m. that the wire had stopped updating. When we realized what was happening and what my options were, it was 10:30 p.m. I had an 11 p.m. deadline and three columns to fill, mostly baseball boxes. And I was going to have to do all the boxes manually, which I didn't know how to do at that moment. Usually, we'd call a box score onto a page ready formatted.<br />
So I frantically tried to get as many incoming baseball boxes done and on the page as fast as I could. It was an agonizingly slow process, especially with a dozen boxes coming in and plenty of space to fill on the page. I knew I was going to miss deadline because it was extremely tedious formatting everything each box at a time. I ended up sending my page about 15 minutes late. I don't even remember if I did any kind of makeover. But I do remember busting my hump to get that page out only to leave that night without a single word of recognition for my efforts.<br />
After that, I might have vowed to never work on my birthday again.<br />
My other birthday work woes pale in comparison. There was a softball game that lasted three-plus hours. It went into extra innings and was even delayed by a thunderstorm.<br />
There was the year the Portland Pirates were up 2-0 in their best-of-five playoff series. Both wins had come on the road. All the Pirates had to do was win one at home. After losing the first game, they hosted Springfield on a Saturday night - and lost. That meant the next day, a Sunday, I was on the road and headed back to Springfield to cover Game Five, instead of having the day off. Guess what day that Sunday was? My birthday. The Pirates even lost that night and an expected lengthy playoff run ended suddenly.<br />
One year I spent my birthday writing about a local coach that had died that morning. Nothing kills the birthday excitement than writing about somebody's death.<br />
Another year, I was supposed to be headed for Owls Head. Instead, I was in the office working on some local story. I don't even remember what it was about. All I remember is that the woman in the newsroom who would put balloons on people's chairs for their birthday approached my desk while I was on the phone - with balloons in hand. I gave her a "Don't you dare" look. She tied them to a newspaper rack right next to my desk. That actually worked as a nice compromise. As people walked by, they'd ask "I wonder whose birthday it is?" I sat there looking all innocent and say, "I don't know."<br />
So I know I won't be driving to Springfield today.I'm not doing agate. As far as I know, nobody has died that would prompt a story from me.<br />
I do get to combine jobs by visiting a bookstore this morning and then a softball game this afternoon. I'm even doing a game with my favorite Softball Mom in attendance. She was the one last year who didn't like my softball notebook and suggested I "Get with it and do some real reporting."<br />
I'm not even going to let her bother me. It's my birthday. I have the following two days off. I'm ready for whatever this day brings. If work goes smoothly today, I'll be thrilled and will relish and enjoy the day. If something goes wrong, well, I'll have another story to tell next year.Kevin C. Millshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15891329451132920851noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8900402776526818141.post-68323844676338135282012-04-12T11:00:00.001-07:002012-04-12T13:12:25.147-07:00A Cottage With Heart<br />
It wasn't the changes that got most of my attention, it was what had stayed the same.<br />
There was a new shower installed, a new window and a brand new floor. Our new cottage bathroom was making great progress in the renovations. But I was intrigued not by what had just been installed but what has been there for 40 or 50 years.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1xy-ZJCD3yigVZ3H4Dh9JeQTFyPiISs0GID5wuFVyxs0osZkym0mTDvAW4Uhwhe82tEOTKtJtMOq1qVVXgDU7VVx9ktJYhoOmSxHM4TA2Tz3DspFnBmfVEmyFRa42NqMnwBeolGzGysBI/s1600/cottage1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="155" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1xy-ZJCD3yigVZ3H4Dh9JeQTFyPiISs0GID5wuFVyxs0osZkym0mTDvAW4Uhwhe82tEOTKtJtMOq1qVVXgDU7VVx9ktJYhoOmSxHM4TA2Tz3DspFnBmfVEmyFRa42NqMnwBeolGzGysBI/s200/cottage1.jpg" width="200" /></a>In the walls was electrical wire with duct tape wrapped around it - a sure sign that my Dad had been there. There was his signature. In the ceiling was old scrap pieces of wood that were red. My brother and I concluded that these were original boards on the outside of the cottage when it was first built and painted red. This was back in the 1950's. Our assumption was that when he turned what was once my bedroom into what is now the bathroom, he used those boards in the ceiling.<br />
There was his handwriting scribbled on beams and junction boxes, so he'd recall which wire went to what.<br />
Upon further review, we realized that the bathroom door was crooked. We examined it and couldn't quite figure out why it was crooked but enjoyed the quirkiness of the realization nonetheless. We also enjoyed the fact that we'd never noticed it before.<br />
My Dad built our Owls Head cottage in the 1950's. He borrowed $1,000 dollars and used $500 to buy the land and the other $500 to build the place - with a little help from his brothers and contributions from various lawn sales and scrap heaps.<br />
Over the years the cottage has had a few makeovers. An upstairs was built 10 years ago or so. Last year new awesome bay windows were installed as well as a new sliding door. A new well has been put in. Further changes are in the planning stages - meaning we're planning on finding money somehow to pay for them.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio2qgtobc_JpenZLRBOa5wRPxi3SqJzeabdr6QCaesumnxmY3bCd1suuclivBTZuDGWUmwYGoAEHnBI0KY8nqVyaawQnreLeG2ZL6hyJsGVNuxET9rciyXxqpT9wPe_XKa-wkK7-dG7Njb/s1600/cottage+004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="135" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio2qgtobc_JpenZLRBOa5wRPxi3SqJzeabdr6QCaesumnxmY3bCd1suuclivBTZuDGWUmwYGoAEHnBI0KY8nqVyaawQnreLeG2ZL6hyJsGVNuxET9rciyXxqpT9wPe_XKa-wkK7-dG7Njb/s200/cottage+004.jpg" width="200" /></a>With each upgrade, a little bit of the cottage that my Dad built disappears. It isn't the original. It is becoming the replica. On the wall in the kitchen hangs a saw that he used to build the place with. I love the changes and improvement but hate the thought of my Dad's cottage slowly being replaced. I just realized what a nightmare it will be for me to replace his/my chair someday.<br />
Now there are still plenty of things around the cottage that are part of his original design and handiwork. It was a place he loved. The work he did around the cottage wasn't just because they needed doing. They were acts of love. He enjoyed doing them and did them with a passion for a place that meant so much.<br />
I remember talking to him about this very subject a few weeks before he died. My brother and I would plan to watch the New England Patriots games with him on Sunday afternoons that fall, knowing he didn't have many Sunday's left. I arrived early one Sunday morning and we had a nice chat. I discussed projects I had planned for the cottage, a new walkway that would lead to the shed, and he talked about the labor of love the place was for him.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlYgs-xD-C7lUmg6sncGXyozoqADYFfu6SP-N5vVQ1KoBIDrWpnlSL45RWO2J3lsPqHcETv0bL8TdLMQhqg3yQQt61ESf9GLKlNM-yhSwxvbDBcWBdQS6bgnIYoFujubv-IZJMdxE8cfgD/s1600/247401_10150201964931090_558151089_7660494_8031898_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlYgs-xD-C7lUmg6sncGXyozoqADYFfu6SP-N5vVQ1KoBIDrWpnlSL45RWO2J3lsPqHcETv0bL8TdLMQhqg3yQQt61ESf9GLKlNM-yhSwxvbDBcWBdQS6bgnIYoFujubv-IZJMdxE8cfgD/s320/247401_10150201964931090_558151089_7660494_8031898_n.jpg" width="320" /></a>So when I looked around the torn open walls of a bathroom in transition, there was his stamp everywhere. I couldn't help but laugh, smile and enjoy every little piece of him that he had left in those walls and ceilings.<br />
All that evidence is now covered over by sheet rock or ceiling tiles. Those walls are being painted. And a new bathroom will be born. It will look great and I'll be thrilled with it. <br />
But I'll also know that my Dad is still there. The heart of the cottage still bears his work. He's in the walls. He's in the ceiling. He's in that crooked door. I feel the hard work he devoted to the place. I feel the love he had for it. I feel the love for the cottage in my heart, just like he did.<br />
In life we all have an opportunity to leave a little bit of ourselves behind. My Dad did that in ways I see and feel every day. I can even find him in simple pieces of duct tape and a crooked door.<br />
<br />Kevin C. Millshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15891329451132920851noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8900402776526818141.post-25588086995535584422012-04-05T11:16:00.000-07:002012-04-05T11:17:13.905-07:00A Great Maine Writer You've Never Heard Of<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTMlP_6NEEzQMye3xrZ5mBbs0C3xVy1dQ2xzCvwEgxenFmi0UHHqF8YdbasUe3TNddPx7Ea48x-14gtStmytJy1skuIChJ8giftGmlAGY1KIllS2SYRdiXp2B0KGcfN0gNgpNsYAx8jGei/s1600/Wasson_George.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTMlP_6NEEzQMye3xrZ5mBbs0C3xVy1dQ2xzCvwEgxenFmi0UHHqF8YdbasUe3TNddPx7Ea48x-14gtStmytJy1skuIChJ8giftGmlAGY1KIllS2SYRdiXp2B0KGcfN0gNgpNsYAx8jGei/s200/Wasson_George.jpg" width="170" /></a></div>
At just about every one of my speaking engagements, I mention the name of one of Maine's greatest authors.<br />
And everybody acts like they've never heard of him.<br />
That's because most of the audiences I have spoken to have never heard of George S. Wasson.<br />
I could say that I was related to Stephen King or E.B. White and get all kinds of oh's and ah's, but I have no connection to either of them. When I mention my link by ancestry to Wasson and his influence on my novel <i>Sons and Daughters of the Ocean</i> all I get are blank stares.<br />
Wasson is part of Maine's great literary history, as was his father, yet most people have never heard of either of them. I had no idea who they were either before I began looking into my own family history.<br />
I discovered my connection to the Wasson family in West Brooksville. My great grandmother, Sarah, was a Douglass. Her mother, also named Sarah, was a Wasson. The older Sarah was not only a sister to Nancy Wasson, who married into the Mills family as my great, great grandfather's second wife, but she was also the sister of David Atwood Wasson. He was a well-established Transcendentalist essayist, author and minister, whose peers were Ralph Waldo Emerson and David Thoreau. <br />
His son George S. Wasson became an established writer as well. He wrote a handful of maritime stories. His use of dialect and his wonderful drawings that accompanied his work, made his books something unique.<br />
One Maine magazine listed the most endearing Maine authors in its literary history. Wasson was included on the list as was poetess Celia Thaxter, another ancestor of mine.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-93GnlafYpziWH8B65S8tUTrvnLgDvK7bHsF_vdFBTFk4MH4AVRCqrYJsrJiOkNz8QicGiCDbOM0W_1Re0R0Fa2PIt29J9g8deQtpu71hCPiI7Oro_kuq1GeewIVgvVcWj7LiicGRs2QK/s1600/books.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-93GnlafYpziWH8B65S8tUTrvnLgDvK7bHsF_vdFBTFk4MH4AVRCqrYJsrJiOkNz8QicGiCDbOM0W_1Re0R0Fa2PIt29J9g8deQtpu71hCPiI7Oro_kuq1GeewIVgvVcWj7LiicGRs2QK/s320/books.jpeg" width="212" /></a>When I began writing my first novel and chose to base it on family history and Maine's shipbuilding and merchant sailing heritage, Wasson was an obvious part of the research. He co-authored the book<i> Sailing Days on the Penobscot</i>. It is probably the most complete account of the schooner industry in Penobscot Bay. I have my great grandfather's copy of that book. My first novel is loosely based on him and a character like him that ultimately goes off to sea at a teen.<br />
Between the stories, the list of ships built along the coast, the dialect he wrote with and the historical information provided, that Wasson book was a significant foundation of my research for my novel. Reading some of his other books, like <i>Home From The Sea</i> and <i>The Green Shay</i>, gave me even more insight into that world. I subsequently used a lot of words and phrases he used in his books to bring my characters to life. Phrases like "Godfrey Mighty", "chowly and hubbily" and "a real apple-shaker" helped make my characters feel that much more true and real.<br />
Included in <i>Sailing Days on the Penobsco</i>t is mention of his grandfather, David Wasson and the three-masted ship that he built. A significant part of the plot in my first novel is based on that three-master and it being the first of its kind on the Maine coast. I think he also mentions the story of George Tapley and his dying wife (my great grandfather's sister). The plot of my novel depicts a similar story based on that account.<br />
I read a number of books that provided me great information on that age of sail, but Wasson's work was so authentic because he was there and was part of it. There was a great authenticity to his work and I feel it helped bring something similar to my writing.<br />
There isn't a ton of information to be found about George S. Wasson or his father David Atwood Wasson. I did an online search for photos and found one of myself before I came across any for either Wasson.<br />
A small sail boat once owned by George S. Wasson is on display at the Penobscot Marine Museum in Searsport,Maine You can still find George S. Wasson's books for sale at various online sites. There's also a book or two about David Atwood Wasson. Because of their age, they won't come cheap. A copy of <i>Sailing Days on the Penobscot</i> will run hundreds of dollars.<br />
It is too bad the work of the Wasson's have been passed over through time. It makes me all the more pleased that their work was able to influence my own. I mentioned in a previous blog the impact the work of Michael and Jeff Shaara had on my novels. Like their work, my novels wouldn't be quite the same had it not been for the work of the Wasson's. And being able to carry on their work and write about their ancestry, as well as my own, makes it feel as though I'm keeping their legacy alive.<br />
<br />
<br />Kevin C. Millshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15891329451132920851noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8900402776526818141.post-5212305515175749932012-04-01T08:23:00.000-07:002012-04-01T08:23:37.085-07:00Painting Names<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.highsmith.com/images/full/Mini-Bulletin-Board-Accents-HSL_i_EP2650.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://www.highsmith.com/images/full/Mini-Bulletin-Board-Accents-HSL_i_EP2650.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
Choosing a paint color shouldn't be too difficult.<br />
Blue.<br />
That's what I wanted. All I needed to do was go to the local paint store and pick out a blue to adorn my walls.<br />
But it's a little more complicated than that. The color blue turned into Billow, Sonic Sky and Sky Blue No. 1, 2 and 3 as well as a bunch of less masculine sounding names of which I wouldn't even consider.<br />
So not only was I overwhelmed with the variety and various shades of blue, my mind became distracted when I began wondering, who comes up with the names of all these colors?<br />
That immediately led me to thinking, "I could do that".<br />
And of course, instead of picking out a color as I'm supposed to be doing, I'm mulling over my ability to name various paints and writing a Tweet, Facebook post or blog about it. That's what this writer's mind does - whether I want to or not.<br />
Now I recognize that naming paint colors can't be as easy as it sounds. There are more shades for paints than I know what to do with. It starts with blue and then becomes less blue, lesser blue, even lesser than that blue and the lessest blue of all blue. And there's more blue, a little more blue, a lot more blue, really really blue, as blue as you can get blue and soooo blue that it's almost black blue. How do you name all those?<br />
I've always thought it funny how they name cars. They give them this somewhat exciting name like the Elantra. No car dealer is going to call their car the Ford Lemon or the Saturn Hunk a Junk. They've got to name the car in a way that is inviting and cool sounding - for those who only buy things because the name sounds hip. It first makes me wonder if they really think buyers are that stupid and then it makes me wonder if buyers really are that stupid?<br />
The same would go for paints. You have to be descriptive but also stylish in the name. I'd still have some fun with it but it would probably get me fired the first day.<br />
I'd start with naming paints after bands - Metallica Black, Beatles White, Sammy Hagar Red, Deep Purple Purple, Moody Blue, Coldplay Yellow. I'd name some after sports figures - Bud Black, Randy White, Vida Blue, Mean Joe Greene. Then I'd use my sense of humor. I'd invent Hi Ho Silver, Kermit Green, Guinness Black and Tan, Tighty Whitey and Tuscadero Pink. There would be the token softer less manly colors like Girly Pink and Sissy Blue. Then there would be the rough and tough man colors like Burly Black and Bad Ass Blue. And, of course, I'm a sucker for wordplay. So there'd be something like Don't Red On Me and Hullablue.<br />
After awhile, the fun with the paint names would be gone. I'd have to settle for coming up with names like they have now. I'd be putting aside fun and funny for something boring, safe and lame sounding. And that's not me.<br />
So maybe naming paints ultimately isn't my thing. I should just stick to picking out the color blue and paint my walls with it. Afterall, it is just paint. <br />
The final choice? It's called Skywriter. How appropriate.Kevin C. Millshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15891329451132920851noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8900402776526818141.post-15322658118351090892012-03-29T10:28:00.002-07:002012-03-29T10:28:24.252-07:00Civil Inspiration<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoaWlj6cjiyoBCU-FnBUvJDH52INEhJb0IHdh7NC2VhyphenhyphenlK7iQuK2T1hwKkvgAENBnBEeH2I3W2SBM_POs5pRFG4OHeymB24UYV9G38bhzpAIkv4R8svnzOoo2ygk2K2q7b6iJ1oe1TygHc/s1600/29925.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
</a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7-Omqr_9XlX-_tnkte_qyZDkUTJmcXVwvAB07mvJEwtFpJgbAlh3ErEXAM1q0Ku0NaYbv72g_MAOC5QvbN-rP90ale3AqM0e0tUSkOfrNFmMEelAZSO79PWWa7fwv7VqIQ7FJdspXm_5z/s1600/682804.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7-Omqr_9XlX-_tnkte_qyZDkUTJmcXVwvAB07mvJEwtFpJgbAlh3ErEXAM1q0Ku0NaYbv72g_MAOC5QvbN-rP90ale3AqM0e0tUSkOfrNFmMEelAZSO79PWWa7fwv7VqIQ7FJdspXm_5z/s320/682804.jpg" width="195" /></a>I had always wanted to write a novel.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I was telling stories long before I
could even write. I'd stand up in front of class in first grade and
tell stories, stuff I made up or scenes I had played out with
whatever action figures I used the night before.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But the writing the novel goal just
never seemed to materialize. There were various attempts. There are
numerous notebooks tucked away in the KCM archives with partial
stories I had created and gave up on.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
It wasn't until I read <i>The Killer
Angels</i> by Michael Shaara and the other two books in the Civil War
trilogy – Gods and Generals and <i>The Last Full Measure</i>, both by Jeff
Shaara – that I saw potential for a novel. And it wasn't just one, it
was three.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
That's how my career as an author
began.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I thought I might take a look back at
some of the authors that have inspired my work. Not to give away too
much of the speech I deliver to various historical societies and
libraries, but my novel <i>Sons and Daughters of the Ocean</i> and its
followup, <i>Breakwater</i>, would never have happened had it not been for
the works of the Shaara's.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
It really was the movie Gettysburg that
inspired it all. I first saw that film at the State Theater in
Portland, with the full sound system that made every cannon boom shake the walls and ring your ears. I loved that movie, and it quickly became one of my
favorites. Afterall, its historical, its has a great music
soundtrack, it's about Maine and it has some family connections (my
great grandfather's brother was in the 20<sup>th</sup> Maine) – all
things I like.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The movie made me want to read <i>The
Killer Angels</i>, the book that the film was based on. After reading
that, and loving it, I followed with <i>Gods and Generals</i> and <i>The Last
Full Measure. </i>Ted Turner later made a movie version of <i>Gods and Generals </i>as well.<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoaWlj6cjiyoBCU-FnBUvJDH52INEhJb0IHdh7NC2VhyphenhyphenlK7iQuK2T1hwKkvgAENBnBEeH2I3W2SBM_POs5pRFG4OHeymB24UYV9G38bhzpAIkv4R8svnzOoo2ygk2K2q7b6iJ1oe1TygHc/s1600/29925.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoaWlj6cjiyoBCU-FnBUvJDH52INEhJb0IHdh7NC2VhyphenhyphenlK7iQuK2T1hwKkvgAENBnBEeH2I3W2SBM_POs5pRFG4OHeymB24UYV9G38bhzpAIkv4R8svnzOoo2ygk2K2q7b6iJ1oe1TygHc/s1600/29925.jpg" /></a>What I liked about those books was how
the author took certain major characters during that period and
brought them to life. It was a non fictional tale written like a
novel, not a text book. I came to learn a wealth of things about such
vital historical figures like Joshua Chamberlain, Robert E. Lee and
Stonewall Jackson. I can almost guarantee if you see me eat a lemon,
I'll make some sort of Stonewall Jackson reference – because I
learned that Jackson loved lemons by reading this series.<br />
<br />
For anyone interested in the Civil War, this trilogy is a must. It inspired me to create a historical series on my ancestors that made for a must read, whether it be about the privateering age or life of a small shipbuilding community. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I subsequently read Jeff Shaara's work
on the Revolution – <i>A Glorious Cause</i> and <i>Rise To Rebellion.</i> Both
were written in the same style of the Civil War trilogy. They're
historical novels in the truest sense. I may read them again, just to bolster my knowledge as I write my next historical novel.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
During that period of time, I had spent
many years researching family history. I had produced two books as a
result. One was on the Mills family and another was on the life of my
grandfather. I printed a batch of copies for various family members
and then went looking for another project. I had unleashed the creative beast within and not had to feed it again.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUDaLqQCKbTfbFk2jsgX7F3mWZg9sYpI21AXI2o83Zd7EH76cC8AuzWnmoOh4dWM7kxZ_-epkt2jJKR3jfq07nIw7U36C7OsLKQ1SRdPG65QzPDR08AsA1yfuVnUXvgkoO5xlbGqnAGYeE/s1600/29923.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUDaLqQCKbTfbFk2jsgX7F3mWZg9sYpI21AXI2o83Zd7EH76cC8AuzWnmoOh4dWM7kxZ_-epkt2jJKR3jfq07nIw7U36C7OsLKQ1SRdPG65QzPDR08AsA1yfuVnUXvgkoO5xlbGqnAGYeE/s1600/29923.jpg" /></a>I concluded that my next move was to
write a novel. With all that family history swirling around in my
head and the work of the Shaara's fresh on my mind, the idea of my
own trilogy was born.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>Sons and Daughter's of the Ocean</i> would
be first. It would be a historical novel based on my ancestors that
were shipbuilders and merchant mariners in Brooksville, Maine. I'd follow
that with another historical novel set during the Revolution and one
of my ancestors that was a privateer. The third book would be based
on the life of my grandfather or father.<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I knew I had the makings of my own
trilogy and went to work. As it turned out, <i>Sons and Daughters of the Ocean</i> was
published and subsequently <i>Breakwater</i> followed in December. I
switched up the order, which has a long story in and of itself. <i>Sea
of Liberty</i>, a tale about the privateering age is currently in the
works.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
For both <i>Sons and Daughters of the Ocean</i> and
<i>Breakwate</i>r, there were numerous authors that inspired, informed and
help shape the books that were eventually published. Just like more
authors are helping as I write <i>Sea of Libert</i>y.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But the Shaara's came first. As a journalist, I've learned to "write what you know". I knew my family history, and the Shaara's showed me how to tell its story. Following
their lead and being inspired by their work, I achieved the goal I had had for decades.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Now if Ted Turner would just call to offer to make the movie
versions, I'll be good to go.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO_Djuz-WmBhcX1mZLgw5aeCm4aJQn7VpuNlGhqaORdNJcpyNmc8IahhNeLLOKPIOWDf9o4njYEO6_US2kdY-5dlfe8J8hKhPij5PND_cFHBcYXQlhFD9LuHEe1bPzyiV6TDK-FIeDdMwd/s1600/51YQ1lWqT3L._BO2,204,203,200_PIsitb-sticker-arrow-click,TopRight,35,-76_AA300_SH20_OU01_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO_Djuz-WmBhcX1mZLgw5aeCm4aJQn7VpuNlGhqaORdNJcpyNmc8IahhNeLLOKPIOWDf9o4njYEO6_US2kdY-5dlfe8J8hKhPij5PND_cFHBcYXQlhFD9LuHEe1bPzyiV6TDK-FIeDdMwd/s1600/51YQ1lWqT3L._BO2,204,203,200_PIsitb-sticker-arrow-click,TopRight,35,-76_AA300_SH20_OU01_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO_Djuz-WmBhcX1mZLgw5aeCm4aJQn7VpuNlGhqaORdNJcpyNmc8IahhNeLLOKPIOWDf9o4njYEO6_US2kdY-5dlfe8J8hKhPij5PND_cFHBcYXQlhFD9LuHEe1bPzyiV6TDK-FIeDdMwd/s1600/51YQ1lWqT3L._BO2,204,203,200_PIsitb-sticker-arrow-click,TopRight,35,-76_AA300_SH20_OU01_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO_Djuz-WmBhcX1mZLgw5aeCm4aJQn7VpuNlGhqaORdNJcpyNmc8IahhNeLLOKPIOWDf9o4njYEO6_US2kdY-5dlfe8J8hKhPij5PND_cFHBcYXQlhFD9LuHEe1bPzyiV6TDK-FIeDdMwd/s1600/51YQ1lWqT3L._BO2,204,203,200_PIsitb-sticker-arrow-click,TopRight,35,-76_AA300_SH20_OU01_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<br />Kevin C. Millshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15891329451132920851noreply@blogger.com0