Purple Rain Kind of Day

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to get through this thing called life.”

When I found out that Prince had passed away, it was the first time that I remember almost being moved to tears by the death of a celebrity, other than Robin Williams. As I checked in with social media (Twitter and Facebook) I noticed so many tributes to this great artist and how it seemed like people around the world were mourning this man who so few actually knew. I began to think, like the minority it seemed, that maybe I was over thinking the kind of loss I should be feeling.

I never went to a Prince concert, although I really always wanted to attend one. I had never been one of the many, many lucky people to see him just hanging around his hometown of Minneapolis either, despite spending quite a bit of time around the Chanhassen area while my brother and sister both taught at neighboring Mound, MN.

So what was my claim to sorrow? Why did I feel like I lost a friend, or at least an idol?

Music does a funny thing to people. A song can capture an exact feeling or moment that you seem to be experiencing. It can also release you from sorrow or pain and allow you to ease tension and just let loose. Prince, above any other artist out there, wrote music that just made you feel good. His Funk/Pop mix made it impossible to not get hooked into the groove and want to get up and dance.

The not so subliminal messages behind the music made him a constant enemy of Tipper Gore and are one of the main reasons why we now have the “Explicit Lyrics” label adorning many albums that come out, but there was certainly a form of poetry even in the most lude of Prince’s lyrics. Often he would not just come out and say he was talking about sex, he would use metaphor and innuendo to let your mind wander to those places on their own, and in doing so helped to unleash your most unclean desires and yearnings. It sounds crazy right? Well go listen to some of his music right now! The satire publication, The Onion, posted an article right after Prince’s death was announced that basically said that mourners are too sad to go home and have sex, despite the fact that it was the one thing Prince would want us all to be doing in his memory. The man oozed sex, despite looking like the first openly transgender person the US had ever been introduced to.

About that look…

Prince was completely unapologetically himself. Whatever the hell that might have been. He didn’t care what the world thought of how he looked or even what they thought about his music. He would go on stage wearing a scarf around his neck, a trench coat, a speedo, and of course his patented high heel boots. No one knew what the hell they were seeing, but that sound was something that people could get behind, even if it took him a few albums to really break through. On a side note, I read somewhere that high heels were originally designed for men and they wore them for centuries before it became more common for women to wear them. Whatever the case, to our generation the high heeled boot on a man was distinctly a Prince thing.

About that sound…

More and more people are finding out, albeit too late, that Prince was probably in the top 3 best musicians of all time. The man played every single instrument on his first few studio cut albums before finally allowing Dez Dickerson of The Revolution play a little guitar on an album. I’m not positive how long that continued to be the case on his albums but it’s kind of crazy that The Revolution, the big band he threw together to be his backup on stage, was essentially put together to emulate the same type of high energy, party atmosphere that Prince created by himself in studio.

A member of The Revolution talking about how good of a musician Prince was shared that Prince had been on the cover of Guitar magazine…then Drum magazine…then Keyboard magazine…and even Bass magazine! The man could do it all. Howard Stern asked Dave Grohl of the Foo Fighters (and easily one of my all-time favorite musicians) if he thought Prince was a better musician than him. His response, “He’s a better drummer than me!”

For those of you who don’t know, Dave Grohl is one of the greatest drummers of all time. He was the drummer for several bands before really breaking out with a little band named, Nirvana. He also pulled a Prince and did every instrument for his first album post Nirvana for his now band, Foo Fighters. If you’re a Queens of the Stone Age fan, Grohl was also the drummer for this bands first studio album!

The point is that if we look at the top five musicians of all time, Dave Grohl would definitely have to be in the conversation, but Prince would be the reason for the conversation in the first place. When it comes to sheer talent, there may never be another giant in the industry like Prince…which is funny when you consider this “giant” stood all of 5’2” tall.

My Prince obsession

Back to when I found out that this icon had passed away. I was struggling to wrap my head around why I felt so sad about losing just another musician. But then I got like ten text messages from people who knew how much I liked him telling me he had passed away. How many people received that many people breaking the news to them personally? I guess somewhere along the line I divulged my personal feelings about how great I thought this guy was…

In high school I remember my friend Brad and I having a weird obsession with Luke Uncle Luke, 2 Live Crew, and a bunch of other kind of funky rap/rock bands. No idea what drove us in this direction, but when you think of those bands it’s not really a leap to get to Prince…especially when you consider the first song that I really remember loving of Prince’s being Pussy Control. So yeah, surprise surprise, the first song that a high school boy likes of Prince’s is about pussy. What a vulgar…awesome song.

But then I found out more and more about Prince. He was not only an amazing singer/song writer/composer/instrumentalist, he was also from Minnesota and as I was raised in Minnesota I was ingrained with that unhealthy obsession of our state being the greatest state ever, so instantly I was connected to Prince, much like Bob Dylan…but Prince stayed in Minnesota which makes him the greatest Minnesotan artist of all time, sorry Bobby.

From Pussy Control, my strange obsession continued to flourish as I discovered more and more of his music. Like most artists some of his music just wasn’t for me…I’d even say it sucked. But his hits were amazing and the sounds of even my least favorite songs stuck in my head and were tough to listen to without a little head bobbing or swaying at least.

As I got to college, my love for Prince just grew even more. I was introduced to other Minnesota bands such as Motion City Soundtrack who tried to emulate a bit of the Prince sound and were right up my alley as well. But there was always just one Prince. My friends were forced to listen to his music quite often and as I began to corrupt my younger friend Pat, he and I even decided to throw a Prince theme party with our roommates Nick and Josh.

We decorated our entire house in purple, had Purple Rain playing on loop on the basement television and went to the thrift store and purchased puffy pirate shirts and the tightest leather (or pleather) pants we could find, along with some really terrible Prince wigs. The party that ensued was certainly not one of our largest but had to go down as one of the most fun ones that we ever had. I remember we made a video of us doing random Prince entrance moves, just walking like our shit didn’t stink and then just doing a dead stop and facing the camera. Nick, Pat, and I did that for about 45 minutes before we finally decided that we better rejoin the party. That tape, unfortunately, was taped over and we lost our sweet moves to the ages.

Pat, Jason, & Nick's Prince Party - Circa 2007

Going through old photos on Facebook I found several where I could distinctly remember being motivated due to us listening to Prince music, including about three albums entitled, “While I watch Purple Rain.”

For my friend’s bachelor party we even spent some time at the iconic First Ave. which Prince himself made famous through his movie Purple Rain. We were there for about an hour or so, dancing with girls having some drinks and just partying our asses off to some Prince tunes when another friend showed up and informed us that it was an 18+ club…I thought those girls looked awfully young! Oh well, we had a blast and one of my friends even competed in a dance off, which Prince would have been ashamed of…simply terrible TJ.

If you spend enough time with me, chances are you’re going to have to listen to Prince at some point or another. With our friend Jesse we host a sand volleyball league at our campground in the summer. I purchased a couple of faux rock radios (to shut up our assistant to the bus line security manager) that we use for music during the games and unfortunately for the other teams, I occasionally get put in charge of the music…which is always Prince, the greatest hits. Needless to say, we’ve lost a lot of good volleyball players the past couple of years!

I guess when it comes down to it; I just really dug his music. Some may have called it crass and too sexual…but if you read any Shakespeare you’ll find many of the same elements that you find in some of the most sexual Prince songs. It’s written in what we call flowery language but so are some of the best Prince songs! No matter your feeling about the themes of the songs, there is undoubtedly a poetic composition to everything Prince did, from his music right down to his look. He gave the world a message that will last longer than any of us, just look at his song 1999. It was written in 1982 and was a hit. It was played pretty much around the world 17 years later as we turned our calendars to the year 2000 and 16 years later we’re still rocking it out. The meaning has changed from future, to present, to now us trying to party like we did in the past…but the song remains as good as it originally was intended to be.

I always post a life lesson on my bus each morning for the kids to see and after hearing of the passing of Prince I immediately thought of posting the opening line of this post from Prince’s song, “Let’s Go Crazy,” but after a quick search on the old internet (which Prince thought was going to die off by the way) I found this life lesson which summed up how he lived and is a great lesson for the kids on my bus and all of us: “Despite everything, no one can dictated who you are to other people.”

We can try to be whatever we want. We can bend over backwards to make people like us, but in the end they’re going to make up their own minds so why waste your time pleasing others. Be uniquely you. You can’t make people like you or hate you; they get to make up their own decisions so stop wasting your time worrying about what others think of you. Just be.

In the end, Prince’s lyrics themselves serve as his best eulogy:

"I don’t really care so much what people say about me because it usually is a reflection of who they are.”

“Life is just a party and parties weren’t meant to last.”

In the essence of Humphrey Bogart, “We’ll always have Minneapolis and First Ave.”

Here’s looking at you kid.

Good-night sweet Prince; And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest. - William Shakespeare

Grandpa Al

Now those of you who know me on a personal level may be a bit confused by this title for a couple of reasons;

1.  I had an actual blood related Grandpa Al
2. Al Buse was not related to me in the slightest

To touch on the first bullet point; my grandpa Al Braun was one of the greatest men I have ever known. He taught me so many lessons and definitely made me into a much better person because I had him in my life for the first 20 years. He was kind, funny, and absolutely full of shit. He was also the only actual grandparent I have any memory of, so consequently I’ve searched out other such relationships in my life.

Luckily my grandfather had a brother and sister-in-law which helped to serve as another set of makeshift grandparents. Art and Marie were so much like my Grandpa Al that anytime I got to spend with those three taught me so much about honest to god love that it has made me a giant sap who always looks for the best in people and tends to see it even when they don’t show it or even think it’s there. I hope you all get relationships like I had with these individuals. But by the time I was 21, all of these grandparents were gone, and shortly after my 23^rd birthday, I lost my mother as well.

Thankfully I still had my dad. He and I tend to butt heads from time to time, but I have nothing but the utmost respect for this man, and even though somedays I’d much rather spend on my couch watching movies, he always wanted us to be involved in our community and led by example. He got us off our butts and got us active in our community.

Because of this we began to spend more and more time with other individuals who were also active members of our community, a few of which have helped to fill the void of my missing grandparents and are people I am glad that I can say were my friends.

Ann Healy was our town historian, and also the first person my mom lived with when she moved to Red Lake Falls. I always knew Ann, but didn’t really get a chance to spend any time with her until after my mother passed away. My dad decided he wanted to make a memorial park in our city and dedicate it to my mom. He wanted it to be a place people could put living memorials for the people that they had lost so that in a way they could always be remembered. He, Stuart Altendorf, and a young man (I think he was only about 92 when they started) named Al Buse did almost all of the major cleanup work at the park with my brother Ryan and I helping out when we could as well. Every single day we worked on that park, Ann would be down there multiple times to go for her walk and check out the progress.

My brother and I got to spend a lot of time walking with her and hearing the stories of what used to be there and so much more Red Lake Falls history that we were never aware of.  Generally right in the middle of a really fascinating story this little yellow Easy-Go golf cart would pull up and Al would wave us in or jump out and just look at us, then look at the box on the back of his machine…then back at us. Right away we knew it was time to get back to work! Generally he had a stump he couldn’t remove on his own or he had some tool or god knows what in that rear compartment of the Easy-Go that needed to be fixed, and Ryan and I weren’t much but he figured we had to be good for something!

Those were some of my favorite times with my dad and Al and Ann. We lost Ann shortly after we completed our memorial gazebo and I still think about her every time I drive past there. The walking path will one day feature items from Red Lake Falls past with the hope of dedicating the trail that goes through there to Ann.

But Al kept on trekking.

Before the memorial park, we always had a good rapport with Al. He was always a man who believed in Red Lake Falls and in giving back to the community that he loved. He literally turned the city dumping grounds into one of the most beautiful parks in our entire area (which was named after him a few years ago) and could be found weed whacking random areas around town on any given day. If you were ever to stop and chat with him, you would have found that his car, or later is golf cart, always contained some tools, and generally some hedge clippers. You would more than likely be put to work on something as well, but that was the best part. Most people may have seen it as helping Al out with something, but I think he hoped people saw it as them helping out their community. He was never in it for himself.

My blood related Grandpa used to spend every Sunday with us, a lot of those days at the tubing and camping business we run, Voyageur’s View. You could almost guarantee to find him sitting in our store chatting with my mom or some of our employees…but more times than not, with some pretty girl. When asked about it, he would always just smile and tell us; “I’m not dead yet!”

That’s what they call a precursor in this writing game…

Flash forward a few years, The Buse grandchildren (son and daughters of Todd and Julie) have all worked with us and it is now Abby’s turn to have to spend time with the Brumwell clan. Al had always spent a lot of time coming down to check out how the business was going and to just people watch as well, but while Abby was working for us we hated seeing Al just hang out in his car so we set up a chair in our tube rental building so we would have him right there in the action and we could chat with him and he could make sure Abby wasn’t slacking off. Pretty much every weekend you could count on Al being right in the thick of things and every chance we got, we were there hanging out, yelling at him so he could hear us, and listening to some of the greatest history tails of our little city.

One day Al came pulling up on his golf cart, (this was a few years after Abby moved on to bigger and better things-still one of our all-time favorites) I saw him sitting over there watching the buses go by and anytime I saw him pull up I tried to spend a little time chatting with him, so I went over and we talked for a bit, me shouting because of his hearing impairment caused my millions of rounds of ammo shot, and him talking a little louder than most people do, once again because of the hearing impairment. So we yell back and forth at each other for a while and then this very pretty girl walks by on her way to her campsite. Al gets quiet for a second, and when the girl is about ten feet in front of us he looks over at me and yells, “That one’s got a nice shape on her!” I laugh, the girl laughed and Al and I both went home without her number.

The sly dog had us all convinced that he was there just to support our business and watch his grandkids work…turns out he was just another dirty old man in the same fashion as my other grandpa Al!

There are quite literally thousands upon thousands of stories about this great man, and I know that I’m not the only person in this community, or persons who have known him at any point who truly loved the man. The stories that people have posted on Facebook and other areas are just the tip of the iceberg. He was a man I was truly convinced would outlive me, and not just because of how incredibly out of shape I am. This was a guy who was out snow plowing his driveway and walkways a month ago at 101 years of age. He was an oddity in the fact that not only was he extremely active, he still had a sharp mind and a keen sense of humor.

A few other quick stories of Al:

His daughter Julie (who spent an unbelievable amount of time with Al) told me that she had brought him over to Grand Forks to trade in a gun not too long ago and was a little upset with the price they gave him. She asked him why and he stated that he figured if he could hang onto it for another ten years or so that it would be worth a lot more money, to which Julie asked; “But how old would YOU be Al?!” He replied with a smile, “Oh, pretty old.”

Finally, my dad loved Al. We all did, but I think that Al didn’t only fill a void for me as a grandparent, but also for my dad as a father figure and outright friend. As I stated, I only knew one of my blood grandparents, which was my mom’s dad. My dad’s dad passed away before his time and left a hole in the lives of my parents. Al was a guy who not only resembled my mom’s dad but also my dad’s. He was a hard worker who my mom would tell me stories of with tears in her eyes because of how much he meant to her, and my dad…being a man’s man would talk about all the projects they did together, even driving us around to look at the buildings they had built that were still standing.

In Al, my dad found a person I believe reminded him of his own father. A man he could work with in all the crazy volunteer endeavors that the two of them seemed to always be taking on. Be it the Community Enhancement Club, the memorial park, building a picnic shelter at the swimming pool (which they brought to Red Lake Falls with a group of dedicated individuals), they were always doing something together. They both loved our community and were and are the type of people who if they want something done…they did it. There wasn’t a day that my dad stopped to talk to Al that he didn’t leave with a project. In fact, the day before Al fell, he was busy working on finding a new hasp for one of his gun cases, and loved every second that he got to help the man.

The day I got the news that Al had passed, I called my dad right away. He was down at Sportsman’s Park, Al’s Park. He thought that it was messy and knew Al wouldn’t be happy with the condition, so he was picking it up…he was spending a little more time with Al.

Later I spoke with him again and he said that his one regret was that he had really wanted to get Al on the Today Show’s Smucker’s segment where they honor people who have lived 100+ years. Something that Al, I’m sure, could have cared less about but my dad just wanted to honor his friend. But last summer we got to do something even better, we got him featured in the Washington Post thanks to future Red Lake County resident Christopher Ingraham. As Chris was busy trying to interview Al, he kind of showed exactly how important he felt recognition was…when asked what the secret to living to 100 was, Al just stated that that’s the wrong question, you don’t want to live to be past 80 or so…then he helped himself to Chris’ dinner.

When Chris and his wife Brianna decided to move to Red Lake Falls, one of the biggest reasons was that my dad took them on a tour of our city which included about a half hour stop to chat with Al. I think Brianna saw in that short visit why Chris felt so strongly about moving to our little community. The man was everything you hope to find in a small town, and he tried to be that shining example to our whole community.

Al’s family has asked that in lieu of flowers, donation be made to Meals on Wheels, a program that delivers meals to the elderly and a service that Al used and one that helped to expose scores of kids to this great man. I would go one step further, I would think the thing that would make Grandpa Al the happiest is that if the people that cared so much for him, continued his legacy. This community was important to him, and I can’t think of a better tribute than to keep up with his work. I would go as far as to suggest a community event where we celebrate Al by having a spring cleaning of the community. We gather together and fix the things that need fixing, paint the things that need painting, and weed whack those darn weeds! There are few people who cared for this community as much as Al, but it sure would mean a lot to him if he knew he passed that on to the generations that follow him.

If you no longer live in Red Lake Falls, be a bigger part of your community in his honor. Al was a serviceman, not just to our community, but to our country. Help keep Al’s spirit going by doing as he would do.

That Man is a Success

Who has lived well, laughed often and loved much;

Who has gained the respect of intelligent men and the love of children;

Who has filled his niche and accomplished his task;

Who leaves the world better than he found it, whether by an improved poppy, a perfect poem or a rescued soul;

Who never lacked appreciation of earth’s beauty or failed to express it;

Who looked for the best in others and gave the best he had.

We’re going to miss you Grandpa Al.

The Long Road back to the Middle

From the desk and mind of M.P. Braget

The following is partially true, two-thirds fictitious, a bit sarcastic, but mostly honest and in places brutally so. Our memories are a bit like that, though lacking a bit in honesty I wager. Larry Woiwode wrote a book called What I Think I Did and in it he discusses the reconstruction of memory. Memories, after all, aren't real, they don't exist in the here and now. That book is also about the North Dakota winter of 1996 which some may remember gave us the flood of '97, both of which were quite brutal. You should read it, it's good. But don't take my word for it. "Take a look/in a book.."

I've been walking in circles which is to say I've been busy, busy, busy living. But I've also been literally walking in circles, breathing in the musty cool air that only a concrete structure can flavor, listing to the click-clack echo of my hard sole boots bounce rhythmically through the automobile hotel, marching me along as I hold a book, of some color or another, up to my nose. This is my lunch hour, or 40 minutes of it, walking in circles reading a book for the physical and mental exercise. Walking and reading. I'm no doctor, so I won't tell you what Americans need but more walking and more reading surely couldn't hurt. I'm not here to tell you that though, I'm just setting the scene.

In this parking structure where I spend my lunch hour, book held to my nose, relying on my peripheral vision to guide me around the metal guests, my hearing to warn me of the occasional arriving/departing metal-soul, I occasionally stop reading long enough to notice the particular breed of the automobiles. This is my temporary escape from the office-rat cubes of corporate America. The cubes where all our dreams comes true.

I'm walking, click-clack, click-clack, and noticing on down the line: Toyota Prius, Lexus, BMW, Prius, Mercedes, non-Prius Toyota, Prius, Nissan Wannabe Prius, Lexus, BMW, Mercedes, Mazda, Prius, Prius, Prius. Californians, myself excluded, don't buy American Metal Souls. They either guzzle too much gas, or just do so unreliably. Either way, "made in America" is too far below the average, and certainly the above-average Californian-American. Thirty-five Million people live in California with 30 Million registered vehicles which have better health care and bathe more often than I do, drought be damned. Life is irony. Irony is God's sense of humor alive and well.

Because aliens will first visit North America and North America has just as many cars as people, and cars can be seen more from space than people, the first alien contacts will attempt communication with a Prius, I'm certain of it. I'm also certain they'll get all the information they came for from the Prius, forgoing the whole "take me to your leader" bit. We don't really have any left, and if we did, Gravitas is dead anyway. One of the old gods discarded like so many others.

Click-clack. I walk in laps, book to my face, surrounded by metal-persons, all with their backs turned to me unless their organic master parks knowing the satisfaction of pulling out of a parking space driving forward. An indifferent audience to an indifferent event, in an indifferent place, of indistinguishable time.

But, maybe not so indifferent to the actor.
I've read, click-clack, in circles:
The Mistborn Trilogy - Brandon Sanderson
The Wisdom of Insecurity - Alan Watts
Cat's Cradle - Kurt Vonnegut
Player Piano - Kurt Vonnegut

Vonnegut fans might notice I'm stealing from him here. So it goes.

Click-clack.

Misty cool, walk the circle, read the book, I reflect on America via it's cultural masterpiece: the automobile. The new gods holding concrete court. They've judged me indifferent but what is the point? A question, you, my reader, might be asking. I think I have one but an attempt to make it obvious will kill it. So I can't. I can't because I drank heavily from the Alan Watts kool-aid:

"Only words and conventions can isolate us from the entirely undefinable something which is everything" (The Wisdom of Insecurity, page 49).

You should read this book, experience it. It's teaching me to let go, to be in the now, to stop regretting the past and fearing the future. To Live. Tom Petty said the waiting is the hardest part, I say it's letting go. But I don't have the time, space, or desire to flesh this out more. Watts is part the point.

Click-clack.

Walk the circle, listen the world inside the concrete metal-soul hotel, listen to life outside it, feel the ground, the slight breeze breaking in easily for metal souls require no windows and little for walls.

Click-clack. Here. Now.

What is the meaning?

Some way our's is a short life, or a long road. Shakespeare lamented it's meaningless: all that sound and fury. Again from Watts: "...for they are but men huddling together and shouting to give themselves courage in the dark" (The Wisdom of Insecurity, page 19).

Click-clack.

Life is a long, or short, road back to the middle. Watts' point, or really the jumping off point, is that we fear meaningless so we ascribe meaning to it all which ultimately makes us unhappy by constantly being worried about being happy. Storing up stuff  now to make sure our future is good.

Click-clack.

From Vonnegut's Cat's Cradle, his religious prophet, Bokonon, describes the creation:

"In the beginning, God created the earth, and he looked upon it in His cosmic loneliness. And God said, 'let Us make living creatures out of mud, so the mud can see what We have done.' And God created every living creature that now moveth, and one was man. Mud as mad alone could speak. God leaned close as mud as man sat up, looked around, and spoke. Man blinked, 'what is the purpose of all this?' he asked politely.
'Everything must have a purpose?' asked God.
'Certainly,' said man.
'Then I leave it to you to think of one for all this,' said God. And He went away."

Some of you might not like this much. Maybe there isn't much to like about it. Watts, I imagine, would say that's his point but without actually saying so. Vonnegut, I imagine, would look upon us with a wry smile and a twinkle in his eye. The only man I can imagine who would be laughing in the face of the apocalypse.

But here I am.

Click-clack.

Walking in circles.

Here you are.

Click-clack.

Reading this in circles.

What is the meaning? I can't say. But hey, fuck it, at least we're getting our exercise.

Basketball and Resiliency...

As I continue to grow older I seem to spend less and less time learning my life lessons at the bars and more just in my everyday life.

The thing about getting older is that things we were once able to accomplish without much effort now seem like they take a lot out of us, or at least can’t be accomplished with as much ease as they once did. One of the largest areas where this seems to come into play is with exercise and keeping in shape. Things we did when we were in our teens, or even early twenties, such as eat or drink ridiculous amounts and have no trouble keeping the pounds off, or even getting the motivation to do some exercise afterwards.

#4 Dusty Neibauer...still has it.

While I was attending college at MSU-Moorhead, a group of friends and me would spend at least four hours every night at Nemzek Hall playing basketball. Once we finished we would either go and get some homework done, or a lot of nights we would head over to my place, play some cards and spend most of the rest of the evening drinking and harassing my poor roommates (Two to Deuce), sorry guys! But the next day most of us (not always me) would get up and go to class, then hit the gym, and start the process all over again.

Not only were we able to put forth a good effort academically, but we also ended up being pretty good basketball players, putting forth a great showing in our pick-up games at Nemzek as well as winning several adult basketball tournaments.

In those days people were always trying to join our team or were worried anytime they saw that they were facing us in a tournament. We didn’t always have the same name, but they could pick us out by looking for the most ridiculous team name on the bracket (such as, That’s a lot of Potatoes), and when they faced us they brought their A-games. Once in all of our glory, we even beat a team comprised of most of the MSU-Moorhead college team. They always put together an intramural basketball team (cheap bastards) and in front of a surprisingly large makeshift crowd, we beat them when Dan Nyberg knocked down a three from about six feet behind the line…a story I will no doubt tell my (or at least someone’s) grandchildren someday, and embellish the hell out of the whole ordeal.

But my life lesson today doesn’t center on how good we were , or how pitiful it is that at 32 I’m already talking about the glory days, no, today’s lesson is centered upon resilience.

#13, Kurt Philion showing off his ball skills.

Back while we were actually a force to be reckoned with people would ask us what we were up to that weekend and we would state that we were going to be playing in a basketball tournament. The standard reply generally went something along the lines of: “Well you boys have fun, and don’t get into too much trouble!”

Fast forward a few years.

We’re now around that 26 – 28 age range, and people ask us, what are you up to this weekend? To which we reply, we’re getting together with our college buddies and playing in a basketball tournament! The puzzled looks on their faces speak more than words can say…but they say them anyway…

     “Friend”: Are you coaching?

     Me: Nope, we’re playing! It’s an adult basketball tournament!

     “Friend”: Aren’t you guys a little old for that stuff, don’t you think it’s time to give up the ghost?

     Me: Are you kidding?! I love basketball, and what better excuse to get together with the guys?!

     “Friend”: OK, well have fun I guess…

It should be noted that at this point we are also starting to lose members of the team, not necessarily because they want to be done playing, just that other things have started to take precedent in their lives, such as work, wives, and kids. We generally only play in about two to three tournaments a year, but the girls who used to join us for these adventures have now become mom’s and have become much more responsible, in many cases either forgetting the amount of fun they used to have, or remembering and worrying what kind of trouble their husband may still get into! Some of my greatest memories of these basketball tournaments are the amount of fun our whole group used to have together, not just the guys, but the girls that would one day become their wives and the mother of their children. I truly knew the brides when they used to rock n’ roll.

TJ Super taking it to the hole, while Jason, Ryan, Kyle, and Pat just watch.

So now we recruit new members or scrap together the guys we can in order to form a team. Some friends get the green light to partake in a weekend of basketball and debauchery, some don’t. We gather up a few younger guys to fill the gaps and still put forth a pretty respectable team. We’re not the feared force we once were, but we’re still having a good time playing the sport we love, getting some exercise and still finishing about the middle of the pack.

Notable changes include; forfeiting games because we can’t get out of bed, losing by 20+ points, having our ankles actually broken, and a noticeable decline in our popularity at the night clubs…

Fast forward to today, or at least this past weekend…

After trying for several years (7 or 8) we were finally able to put back together a good portion of our old team, as well as some guys we’ve been playing basketball with for a few years who are our same age. How do we accomplish this? One of our friends is having a birthday party for his two year old at a Holiday Inn in Fargo, which happens to be happening the same weekend as our basketball tournament! This means that not only will the husbands be allowed to come hang out and play some basketball, but the wives (and kids) will also be in attendance! But in these few years (we’re now 32-34 years old) a few other changes have occurred, starting with that same old conversation…

     Friend: What are you up to this weekend?

     Me: I’m going to play in an adult basketball tournament with my college buddies!

     Friend: Oh really, where’s that at?

     Me: Fargo.

     Friend: Good for you. I’m glad you’re still playing!

The last statement is said with some sadness and is also stated as almost a backward compliment. Just hearing the words come out of their mouth I can hear both that they are kind of sad that they aren’t able to do things like this anymore but they are also impressed that at my age I still can. Society has beat them down to the point where if someone is still doing things such playing in adult basketball tournaments at 32, they should be commended…but when did I get soooo old?

Granted it takes me far longer to heal from an injury now, and even just playing sparingly I usually end up sore the next day, but I find that if I continue to exercise I’m actually a lot better off now than I was a few years ago. I’m generally a lot healthier, drinking less and exercising more than I did in my late twenties. I’m no picture of health but when I do play basketball or go for a run, it really makes me feel pretty darn good. I need to do more of it and eat healthier now than I used to, but I also still play at open gyms where I play with guys in their 50’s who still play against kids who are 18…and they’re still very good.

The saddest part to me is that I’m now at a point where it’s a badge of honor that I’m still playing at all, whereas it seemed like only a few years ago we were at the top of the game.

So we put together this team, and in the build up to the tournament I kept thinking to myself, and telling anyone that would listen, that we should have a really good team for the first time in a long time. That it was actually one of the best teams I’ve put together in years…and then we proceeded to lose every game in our tournament.

Dan Nyberg getting ready to audition for the AND1 Mixed Tape tour.

It turns out that none of us are afforded the opportunity to play four hours of basketball everyday still and we’re playing against people who can. We’re craftier now that we’re older and can still put points up on the board, just not with as much consistency as we once did. We’re getting older, there’s no doubt about that…but I truly hope we all keep playing and getting together to act as if we are still as good as we once were.

Even if we can’t hang on the basketball court, the group was all back together (for the most part, except for the ones without babysitters) at the bars…and once or twice a year, we can still hang with the best of them there!

Basketball and sports in general, aren’t something reserved for the young. Recently our sports teams from my little town all ended their seasons and for some of them their high school careers. These are kids who I remember from being the little tag-alongs who would accompany their parents to our Sunday night open gym and we would let them shoot shots over us to make them feel special. These same kids are now making us all look like old men out there, but it’s safe to say that they have great parents who introduced them to an activity that they can do for a very long time. Sports are something that can bring us together, young and old alike and that’s certainly something we should all fight to try and hold onto.

Don’t expect this to be the last blog centered on basketball, it’s taught me many lessons in my life and I look forward to continuing to play and learn. For all of those high school seniors who are now moving on from their organized sports, as long as you love the sport and are passionate about playing, keep it up. Someday it’ll be your kids who learn to love the sport by watching their parents out there, and they’ll learn a ton of life lessons along the way. It’s a great way to teach them how to be passionate about something and how life can always be fun.

Gun Control, Racism...and other things that made up 2015

Happy New Year’s Eve everyone!

After a blockbuster 2014 where we wrote around 50 blog posts, we drastically dropped off this year with this being only our 9^th post of the entire year. It was a very dismal year for our little project here, but hopefully the New Year will see a reinvigorated effort on our part, only time will tell.

But as today is New Year’s Eve, I’d like to look back at the year that was while enjoying a nice Apple Crown that I decided to have before my old man stole it all!

As a country I would have to say that we did not have an overall good year. We saw more senseless shootings of individuals, by individuals, terrorist groups, and even some of our different factions of law enforcement. These shootings have become so common place in our society that we once again are seeing the idea of gun control enter into the national conversation. The best part about that is that the second someone mentions the term “gun control” the NRA and every other extreme individual or group goes right to the idea that the President is going to try and take back all of our guns…which is a disappointing thought process considering we are supposed to be an educated populace.

I recently spoke with a friend who is serving in the armed forces. He’s just getting going and he was telling me that most of the accidents that occur have to do with firearms and I told him that it was understandable because despite the fact that these kids are all at least 18 years old, they’re still pretty much kids and are given a lot of responsibility with arms that I will probably never shoot…then I got thinking about when I got my firearm certificate. I was 12 years old and this little piece of paper I received after a few hours of class time and one session shooting down at our local range, allowed me to pretty much wield any firearm…at 12! Now (in Minnesota at least) we allow kids to go hunting with their parents starting at 10 years old. My friend is 19 and in the armed forces and the most accidents they have (serious ones) are with firearms. They literally spend a huge portion of their day learning how to use these and know the weapons essentially as well as themselves and it’s still the biggest source of accidents.

The press conference I watched with President Obama talking about gun control made it sound like that he didn’t want individuals who were on the “No Fly” list to be able to purchase firearms, and he also proposed making the purchase of firearms more difficult with ideas such as having to be a registered member of a local gun club or shooting range…none of that seemed so drastic to me.

Reading the above you may already be saying to yourself that this guy must not be a hunter, he just doesn’t get it. Well, you’d be wrong. I enjoy hunting immensely. I love being able to go out during deer season and sit and watch the wild life and hopefully find myself a big buck to add to my trophy’s (it’s more like one nice deer in 20 years!), I also purchased my dog because she was supposed to be a great bird dog (hip dysplasia ended her career early, but still a great companion). I’ve been hunting in places like Wyoming, and Kansas as well as Minnesota, North Dakota, and South Dakota and I’d truly love to go Elk hunting someday as well. I love hunting, I grew up doing it and I’d be very saddened if someday I was no longer able to do it. But I have a hard time believing that individuals such as me are the ones that the government and other agencies are worried about when they talk about gun control.

But we’ve become a country of one thing or the other…no in-betweens. A black person is shot by a police officer, and we deem every police officer to be bad. And when an individual retaliates and murders a police officer then we determine that all members of that particular skin tone are to blame.

We, in the majority, see ourselves as either Republican or Democrat and when it comes time to vote we generally stick with our party line. Not sure who’s running for this particular office? Oh well, this guy says democrat after his name so I’ll just vote for them.

Is it any wonder why groups like ISIS can gain traction by attacking a country such as ours? We’re already divided and prone to racism, sexism, ageism, or whatever else we can use to divide ourselves, so when a group is attempting for countries to alienate the Muslim factions of a population, we’re an easy target. The best part is; we absolutely know that ISIS is attempting to drive Muslims to their cause by showing them that the rest of the world hates them…and we put buffoons like Donald Trump up in front of world news stations as a possible head of our country! We know that they love having someone as narcissistic and naïve as Trump who also happens to have this following in the US where people just like that he says what he’s thinking, even if it’s racist, bigoted bullshit.

So we have a jack ass who very likely may end up being our next president and a population who takes the second amendment as a law that states that each individual should be allowed to have enough guns to start their very own militia, and forget that the law that their using as backing, is by definition something that has been written into something else which changes the original…do you see the irony? It’s already changed something else…it certainly could be changed again. On top of that, when the last mass shooting took place in San Bernardino, news stations around the world reported it as, “Just another day in the United States.”

Let’s go back to the whole “gun control” phrase. There’s a scene from the Adam Sandler movie, Big Daddy which talks about when he allows his son to become the “stinky kid” in class. He decides it’s time for a change and I think if you can remember back when you were going through high school you may remember the first time you decided to start using deodorant, because quite frankly…you were becoming that stinky kid. So when we realize that we’re becoming something we don’t want, in this case stinky…we use something some may call, odor control…see where I’m going?

As a country, with our mass shootings and overall violence we have now become one of the world’s stinky kids. An educated population should begin to realize that there are other options of gun control other than just taking all guns away from everyone. Say what you will about President Obama, but I wouldn’t mind having to be a registered member of my local Sportsman’s Club (I already am, as are most citizens who hunt around me) in order to purchase a fire arm. Is this going to stop mass shootings? More than likely not on its own, but by getting more people to pay dues to their local gun clubs, they may be afforded greater education and that’s certainly not going to hurt anything.

Christ, I just took up most of your time blabbing on about gun control and racism…but this is a year in review and I’d say we as a country spent a good portion of the year dealing with these issues and as 2016 is the big election year…grab a seat because we’ll continue to deal with it throughout next year, and until we get a grasp on it, we’ll be dealing with it for quite a bit longer than that.

2015 made me a little sad to be a member of a country that can turn on itself so easily, especially when I think back to how we were founded and how we didn’t want oppression because of our choice of religion and the founding fathers didn’t even think we should have political parties because they knew they would be a source of division. Quite frankly, they’d be pretty disappointed in America today as well.

The good news is that despite all of these bad things that occurred in 2015, for the most part they still make up a minority of the individuals that make up our country. There are still a million people out there that are making the world a better place every year. It’s important for us to look for the good in these bad times. Luckily it’s not that hard to find. Be it with your good friends, loving family, or just a random person that for some reason, made your day.

SoulPancake is a web site I turn to a lot when I’m feeling down. They have some very uplifting videos, poetry, and a hundred other things that are designed to show you the good in the world when it appears you’re surrounded by the bad.

I also hope to reinvigorate BD&LL in the New Year. I recently began watching the show, Mozart in the Jungle, on Amazon and have found it a bit inspiring as it deals with musician, artists, and dancers who have said (as my dad would say) “damn the torpedoes, full steam ahead” to chasing their dreams. It’s refreshing to see, and inspiring to boot. So 2016 should hopefully bring with it more posts from this author and I will actually get to hang out with Mike on Saturday so I’ll see if I can’t persuade him to be more active in 2016 as well! Some of the other writers are in-between kids right now as well, so hopefully we can come back together as a group and start putting forth our positive footprint back on the interweb!

There was a lot of bitching in this post, I’m well aware of it, but I recently saw something that said that the things we think about most are the ones we talk about least…I’ve spent a good portion of 2015 overthinking and not getting my thoughts out in the open…I don’t plan on spending 2016 the same way. I don’t generally make New Year’s Resolutions…but writing more this year would definitely fall into that category!

I hope you all have a fantastic New Year’s Eve and 2016! Enjoy the celebration and all the wonderful opportunities that are brought forth by each New Year…and day!

The Haves and The Have Nots

I’ve had an issue that’s been seriously bothering me for quite some time but I haven’t really had time to sit down and write about it which may not cure my ills, but at least lets me unload a bit. It’s kind of like a journal, but because I totally overestimate my importance, I put it out on the internet for the world to see! It’s just my way.

Now after that, it’s probably going to be hard to turn this back towards the serious side, but here it goes…and you’re all going to be like, “that turned dark way too fast,” but once again…it’s our blog and I’ll write what I want because I’m oh so very important…

Two weeks ago, a co-worker of mine, a 34 year old guy, died. We found out on a Sunday night and from all accounts and hearing people speak at his funeral/wake, it was more than likely from a drug overdose, more than likely Meth. He had a history of drug use, but not one that we thought he was continuing. He had been a reliable and very capable worker, which means a lot to me because he worked with me but more importantly for my best friend.

Workers aren’t always easy to find in the landscaping business, at least reliable ones. It’s tough work, and often requires long hours. But when this guy first showed up he was having a few difficulties getting his life in order, he had worked about a week before he had to call my boss/friend to see if he would possibly bail him out of jail for driving without a license. And because of things like that, when I first started working with him, both my friend and I had the intentions of working him so hard that he would eventually just quit.

But that little son of a gun didn’t quit. He worked his ass off, taking several breaks at first but as soon as he got going in the trade, he was easily one of the hardest workers that my friend has ever had working for him (which I took offense to, of course). He not only busted his butt daily but he also showed initiative. So often we work with guys who are handy with a shovel when prodded, but very rarely does someone actually attempt to learn how to lay block, or set up a patio…but he did.

My dad met him exactly twice. The first time was when he first started working. We were all at the café in the little town we work at eating, and this guy was sitting in a truck at the shop sleeping. The second time he met him was about a week before he passed away (my co-worker) at which point we were going to fix some landscaping at my dad’s house. Our co-worker jumped out of the truck as soon as we stopped and was over trying to see what the problem was and was attempting to fix it. Needless to say, my dad was pretty impressed with the transition.

Working with him taught me a lot about not judging a book by its cover and also about addiction.

By the time he passed away, I would have said we weren’t just co-workers anymore but that we were teetering on the verge of being friends…but when I found out about the possibility that he had died of a drug overdose…I began to realize just how little I knew about his situation and also, how lucky I was to grow up how I did.

After he passed away we spent quite a bit of time reliving how crazy he was and how we had all been introduced to him for the first time, and I also learned a lot about his back story, how he grew up…how his mom had been a drug addict, and how she had also more than likely died of an overdose. How, essentially, he was doomed from the get go.

Now a lot of people will read that statement and say that, “we all make our own choices.” Which is true, but 9 times out of 10, that statement comes from individuals a lot like me.

I grew up with two loving parents who had their differences and we had our problems. Not enough money to feed all the kids or keep the lights/heat on. We ate a lot of spam as a kid, and I kind of thought it was a delicacy! Times were tough in the Brumwell household for a while…but we always had love and we always had each other. I literally don’t know shit about tough.

My co-worker’s mom was dead by the time she was around 35. He held the record in our area for minors which stood (and stands) at 20 (a fact he told me the week he passed away). He once got two minors in the same night because his parents didn’t really care since all it was, was a fine. He was just told that he had to get a job or find a way to pay the fines, and you know a great way to get quick money…selling drugs apparently!

While he was working with us he was busy taking care of an uncle who apparently is such a bad alcoholic that our co-worker would often get calls to come pick him up from various bars because he had passed out there.

This was his life.

The one bright point that I saw was that he was one hell of a worker. He had once been a welder for several companies and exceeded at that position and as previously mentioned, he had potential to be one of the best workers that my friend had ever had working for him. One thing I keep thinking about is that we were about to build a block bar for an individual and he was so excited to get to attempt to design it…but he never got to, and he never will.

Why do people turn to drugs? Is it for recreation, because their friends are doing it, because it makes them feel good, or perhaps it’s just to escape their normal everyday lives?

I’ve smoked pot exactly one time. I also sold it that one time, because I was drunk in the Minneapolis/St. Paul area and I thought that what this group of individuals was doing was just another business venture. They had a product that they were trying to sell and they weren’t trying to force it down anyone’s throats…they were just letting them know that it was available. Me, being me, had a very in-depth conversation with this group and then proceeded to join their ranks for about five minutes and share a joint with a random businessman who said his wife didn’t let him touch the stuff anymore…the crew was alright with it, and after I had blown the sale I went on with my night. I didn’t get high, I was probably already too drunk for that, but it was a story to tell the grandkids one day…but probably not really.

That was my experience with drugs. I mean I’ve been around several, mostly pot, but haven’t attempted any at any other time. But alcohol is something I enjoy and partake in from time to time…probably too many times when I really think about it (I don’t really have to think about it). But a lot of people partake in alcohol and don’t think much about it, and most people can probably handle it alright…but some can’t and for those people it can be as big of a problem as drugs.

Luckily I grew up with parents who questioned me when they thought I was getting out of hand, and because I knew they were doing it out of love, I knew that I had to seriously stop and think about what I was doing…If they hadn’t cared, if they had used as heavily as I was, who knows where I’d be?

The title of this post is, “The Haves and The Have Nots,” it’s based off of a book I read in college which talked about the drastic difference between growing up with money and without it. It was an interesting read for sure, but when I went to the prayer service for my co-worker it was the first thing that came to mind. Not because I grew up with money and my co-worker hadn’t…because I grew up with a certain kind of love that was not only missing in my co-workers life, but in many of the people who were in that room with us.

The stories they told about growing up with my co-worker were heartwarming in the fact that they were stories of some of their most fond memories of a guy I had gotten to know and grew to really like…but they were some of the saddest stories I had ever heard as well. They were about stealing cars and getting away with it because no one really cared that they had done it. About getting caught drinking or doing drugs, and one of the saddest was the individual who got up two different times to remind people that if they know someone who needs help, to reach out to them…without a doubt, he was asking for help with this statement…and I’m sure he wasn’t the only one there that could have used it.

The saddest part of the whole experience was that I got to know one of this “crew,” and I didn’t know him from drugs, I didn’t know him because we got in trouble together…I got to just know him, the person he could be, the potential he had…if he had grown up with my parents, or maybe yours? Where would he be today?

Sure. We all get to make our own decisions in this life. But when it comes down to it, most of those decisions are based off of past experiences and the thought of how those decisions effect the ones we love…some of us have that certain kind of love in our lives that helps us choose the “right” path…and others have not.

Regardless…I’ll miss my co-worker, I’ll miss my friend.

“Even though we don’t know where we’re going, we always end up somewhere.”

This is a quote I heard recently, not from some great philosopher or self-help guru, but from one of my best friends I had growing up. It wasn’t said about any particular life problem or situation, just about his trip back home from where he grew up to where he currently calls home. Given the context it really just seems like something someone may say when they’re headed out on a road trip with no particular destination, (which is exactly what he meant) but given our history and my uncanny ability to read way too much into things, the quote stuck and for reasons far greater than a simple road trip.

My friend’s journey is definitely one worth writing about, but as I have not asked for his permission to write about it, for now his journey will be his own, but just know that the somewhere he ended up is a long ways from where he began, or any of his closest friends would have imagined for him. A rough start in life does not guarantee a rough life, and his somewhere is something to be genuinely proud of today.

None of us truly know where we’re going in this life, we have ideas and plans and that’s generally where it all comes crashing down. As they say, “Life’s what happens while you’re busy making other plans.” So we plan to do this or that, and life has its own plan. It throws you this way or that, gives you opportunities where you never thought you’d have them and tears away the futures you had so neatly crafted for yourself, and that’s not always a bad thing.

When we’re young we believe we can do anything, we’re told we have the ability we just need the drive. But then reality sets in and we find that although we’ve always wanted to do something spectacular (such as write a world class blog), we find that our talents lie in other fields and even though we still partake in some of these other things, we see that our true talent lie elsewhere. For me, writing has always been a passion of mine. I’m not exactly world class at it by any means but it’s something I always enjoyed doing and if I could choose one thing to do for the rest of my life and actually make a living at it, it would most likely be telling stories and attempting to leave the world a little better off because of the life I lived and the stories I passed on. Big aspirations, but in reality my biggest accomplishment may end up being that I once got a report from The Washington Post to come visit my home town… It’s a huge deal for our community, but in my grand scheme of things…very far off from my life goals.

After attempting to find my passion in several different majors throughout my college experience, I finally found something I loved (Mass Communications) at the same point I lost the thing I loved the most (my mom to ovarian cancer in 2006). After she passed away I attempted to go back to school the following semester to continue my education but every time I sat in class and tried to concentrate on learning, I was filled with sadness about my loss and the whole concentration thing just didn’t seem to work.

I spent the following few month living, working, and dating in the town I hoped to eventually get back on track in and finish off my degree but after a bad break up I traveled down to spend some time with my brother and sister who convinced me that taking a road trip with my brother while we were still young enough to just go, was more important than what I had waiting for me back where I had come from…so we jumped in my mom’s old car, fueled by funds she had left to give us one last great Christmas (her favorite holiday) and traveled a huge portion of the U.S. We saw a ton of friends and family along our path, as well as some of the most beautiful country I have ever seen.

I’m not a religious person by any means, but I am a person of great faith…if that makes any sense to you. On this trip, I would get up every morning before sunrise and just walk around, sometimes with a good book, often with my camera, but more time than not, simply with my own thoughts. It was on one of these mornings while walking around the desert of Arizona that I got this overwhelming feeling that somewhere my mom was alright. I can’t quite explain the feeling, and this is the first time I’ve told anyone really about it, but for a brief moment there I was overjoyed with the fact that she, and everything else, was going to be alright. I had never had the feeling before then, and I haven’t had that feeling again, that’s how I knew it was something special.

Despite this moment of “awakening” I still remain unfazed by the fact that faith and going to church aren’t synonymous. I didn’t and don’t need a building to show me that there’s something bigger than myself, I just need good friends, a loving family, and the ability to see the good in all the individuals I meet along the way (a smile from a beautiful girl every now and again never hurts either!).

Faith, after all, can easily be summed up with the statement that began this post.

But the point of this post is that statement. We often find ourselves in anguish because this or that didn’t work out. I wanted to be a journalist one day, but instead I’m a business owner/landscaper/bus driver. None of these were really on my career aspirations list, but for the most part today they make me happy. I still get an opportunity to indulge my writer dream through a little blog post here and there, and even though not many people read it, it’s an outlet for me to keep those creative juices flowing. I may not be where I intended to be, but I’m certainly somewhere…and this somewhere currently works for me.

The remainder of my journey is as unknown as the beginning, but as usual I look forward to the ups and am better prepared than ever for the downs…life has a way of helping us with that. When I’ve reached my final somewhere, I hope that even though I never quite knew where I was going…I made the places I’ve been a little better with my presence, and that they’ve done the same for me.