I'm buying a used car and I hope I don't fall apart

In about 2008, I started driving a 2002 Nissan Maxima.  My brother found a really good deal, and my parents bought it.  They had it for a little while and then gave it to me, which I still appreciate.  I've now had this car for 10 years.  It has nearly 300,000 miles and the registration is up at the end of august.  I can't get it to pass emissions and there's a code for a major problem with the transmission. Over the years, I've never had any major problems with it. I've kept up with the maintenance.  Early on in the car's life, my brother would take care of it for me.  He changed the brake pads a number of times.  He would take it and wash it for me.  We took it on a couple of road trips. In fact, the time that sealed for me that there was something wrong with Josh, he was trying to change the brake pads for me and couldn't get the old ones off.  This was never an issue in the past.  I had a pretty serious conversation with him when he told me he was just worn out and couldn't get the pads off.  Joshua loved this car.  After all this time, and after all of these miles, the only thing I love about this car is the memories it holds of my brother.  As the time marches on and he's been gone for nearly two years, the physical things that tie he and I together, are beginning to go away.  I can't keep this car.  It started vibrating so bad today, I didn't drive it on the freeway.  I took the back roads to work.  Much like every other story I've told you about my brother, there's a number of things that make smile, and number of things that make me cry.  If you go back and read the eulogy I delivered for my brother, you'll recall that my brother loved cars, and particularly loved Nissans.  I didn't think about it much until yesterday when Christa, the babies, and I stopped by the Nissan dealership and I test drove a couple of Sentra's.  Joshua's first big boy car was a Sentra.  I have decided that I'm going to buy a Sentra.  I don't know if it seems silly to you, but I miss him.  I miss him every day.  The days are easier to deal with now, but every once in a while, a flood comes. Josh would be happy that I'm getting another Nissan.  He would probably take it out and wash it for me.  He would tell me to get different wheels because this one has hubcaps, I would tell him that it's a good idea, do you want to pay for it?  He would tell me no and secretly look for good deals for Nissan Sentra wheels, and I would probably buy them, but he would put them on for me, because also loved wheels and tires so much.  He would ask me if he could borrow it, and I would tell him no, and he would get mad, but then I would relent.  He would probably end up buying it from me in a couple years because he would've found a great deal on another car for me.  There isn't a doubt in my mind that all of these things would happen.  Unfortunately.  They won't.  If you're reading this, and you know that you're sicker than you're letting anyone know about, go to the doctor.  If you feel like you can't tell anyone because of embarrassment, I will take you to the doctor in the car that I'm buying tomorrow night. 

My Dad

In 2008, before I was a husband, and before I was a father, I was a son on a trip with my Dad.  We went to New York to see the Yankees play the red sox at Yankee Stadium.  It was the last season of old Yankees Stadium.  Not old old Yankees Stadium.  I digress.  My Dad and I met my brother in New York.  He just happened to be visiting his best friend Joanna in New York at the same time.  We knew he would be there, we knew we would be there, so the three of us went to Yankees Stadium.  I don't know how exactly my Dad feels about that trip.  I know how I feel about that trip.  It was great.  Trying to figure out subway routes.  Taking the train out to the Bronx, the day before the game, to make sure we had the lay of the land.  We ate at Carnegie Deli...twice. We met Josh and Joanna at a little italian restaurant in Brooklyn.  They made everything form scratch.  It was the best pasta I've ever had.  I still think about it every now and then.  I haven't been able to to duplicate that meal.  My Dad and I went down to the World Trade Center site.  They were in the process of getting everything back together.  I think we saw the foundation of the new buildings that are there now.  We walked for miles and miles.  We took the ferry out to the statue of liberty.  Since my Dad and I feel the same way about a lot of things, when we got out to the island, we didn't get off of the boat because we both said well we saw her.  Are you good? Yep.  I'm good.  We then went to some little pub by Battery Park and had a couple of beers and went on with our day.  This is a small glimpse of a ton of memories that I've shared with my Dad.  I remember when the Longhorns won the National Championship in 2005, we watched the game in the loft of their house.  We didn't talk for the second half.  When Vince ran that last touchdown in on 4th and 10, we cried.

A lot of my memories with my Dad involve sports.  A lot of them don't.  I remember being a little guy and my Dad and Grandpa took me fishing for the first time.  My first rod and reel wasn't a snoopy pole.  It was a real rod and reel, but it was the perfect size for a little guy. I was so excited for the first cast, I couldn't wait.  I put everything I had into that first cast.  We were nowhere near the water.  My Dad and Grandpa seemed like they were a thousand feet ahead of me (it was probably only 20).  I let the line go and watched fly in the air, staring at the majesty of a beautiful cast, only to see it hook my Dad in the left shoulder.  I was a little worried about the anger that would ensue.  It didn't.  After my Grandpa got the hook out, he and my Dad were laughing.  My love of fishing comes from those two.

I remember how hard my Dad has worked.  When I was young, he worked in the oilfield during the oil boom.  We would have to go out to wherever he was working some nights just to see him for a little bit.  He would get back in from being on locations for three days, only to get a call when he got home, that they needed him back at work.  I was never bitter that my Dad worked like that.  I appreciated it.  I still do.  There wasn't anyone that ever outworked my Dad.  He taught me to put my nose to the grindstone and get the job done.  I think that one of the greatest gifts a Dad can pass on to a son, is a strong work ethic.  My Dad did that for me.

I wrote an emotional post for my Mom for Mother's Day.  I said that I've never seen my Mom be more of a Mom than I did in the last three years of Josh's life.  I'll say the same thing for my Dad.  I've never seen him be more of a Mom than...oh wait.  Ha.  I've never seen my Dad be more of Dad than he was to my brother than in the last three years of Josh's life.  My brother loved my Dad.  They disagreed on a lot of things.  My brother trusted no one on this planet more than he trusted my Dad.  My Dad was always so patient with Josh.  My Mom and I would get so frustrated sometimes.  My Dad didn't.  Not with Josh.  He was always so gentle and caring with Josh.  As the older brother, I used to think that he was being babied.  I look back now and know that Josh needed my Dad to be the Dad he was being.  I know that the hole in my Dad's heart for my brother will never be filled while we're still here.  He doesn't say anything to anyone.  We haven't even talked about it.  But I know that Josh being gone has hit my Dad harder than anyone.  I don't know the words to make it better.  I'll never know them because they don't exist.  Here's something that I know.  My two boys love their Pops a lot.  They trust him.  They want him to teach them everything they know.  I'm sure at some point in the near future there may be another hook in my Dad from one or both of his grandsons.

I love my Dad.  He is the most important man in my life.  He gave me a great example of how to be a husband and a Dad.  Most importantly.  He taught me how to hang in there during the tough times.  To not give up is the thing that I learned from my Dad.  There have been plenty of opportunities to quit, and he never did.  I love you Dad.  I'm glad you're my Dad.

My Mom

Sometimes in life there are singular moments that you just can't escape.  You'll notice that my last few blog posts have had something or other to do with my brother, Josh.  His passing has been the single toughest thing that my Dad, Mom, and I have had to deal with.  I was going to get my Mom a card for mother's day and write some nice things in it.  There isn't a card big enough this year to contain the things that I need to say.  My brother was sick for a while.  There were a lot of really bad days.  A lot of close calls.  A number of times when she would plan something fun for herself, but would have to cut it short because of some type of medical emergency with my brother.  There were a lot of tears.  A lot of questions that she never thought she'd have to ask.  A number of decisions that no mother of a 35/36/37 year old man should have to make.  There were some good days.  There were some clear days.  There were a number of days when Josh would just want my Mom to be there.  The logistics were impossible on some days.  She would never know if the next call would be the one that she would never want to get.  There was always faith.  It never wavered.  There was always hope.  There was always prayer, and a gentle reminder that God still had a plan through all of this.  I'll leave out the super personal stuff  that went on during this time.  It was never easy.  It never went the way any of us wanted it to go.  My Mom fought for her son.  She was Joshua's advocate.  She was on his side.  There were endless hours on the phone with nurses, doctors, administrators, and so on.  She never gave up. She was on a search for the next thing that could help.  My Mom refused to quit, even though the temptation was there.  There were a number of hospital workers that would tell her that the way she was taking care of Josh was not the norm.  The people that had the things going on that Josh had going on, more often than not, are forgotten about.  It's really sad and could lead me down another road, but I won't go down it right now.  My Mom was there.  Every day.  Putting a lot of wear and tear on her vehicle, and her soul.  

I've always appreciated my Mom (with the exception of some teenage years) I knew that if things really got down to it, my Mom would fight someone for me if she had to.  And I know she would've fought dirty.  There's no higher compliment I could pay.  Seeing her these last couple years, and the toll all of this was taking on her, I now have an appreciation for her that has gone beyond any descriptive words that I can come up with. The conversations that we couldn't get through because the tears were too much.  I tried to provide as many distractions as I could, but I was unsuccessful.  The times when she would spend with my boys probably helped.  Having a few cookouts and dinners here and there probably helped.  I dare say that I don't know a whole lot of people that could deal with the pain that we all went through and been able to come out the other side with some semblance of sanity.  My Mom did.  I want to thank her for everything she did.  Everything she sacrificed to do whatever she could to take care of my brother.  She was never more of a mother than she has been the last three years.  If it was me, it would've been the same.  I know it.  The conversations still end in some tears sometimes.  The knowledge that we have, that Joshua made his peace with God, and is in Heaven is our solace.

If there's a stronger woman than my Mom, I don't know her.  This Mother's Day is different.  This Mother's Day cements for me that my Mom is truly an incredible woman.  I know that there is a bright future.  I know that God still has her in mind.  The greatest gift that I have ever been able to give her, is two grandsons.  She shows love to them in incredible ways.  They love Mimi.  They think about her when she's not around.  They ask to Facetime if it's been a while since they've seen her.  Their love for their Mimi reminds me of how great of a my Mom my Mom is.  I just want to tell you Mom, that I love you.  Thank you for taking care of my brother all the way to the end.  I know he appreciated it.  There aren't enough words to explain how I fell about everything that's transpired.  But know this.  It didn't go unnoticed.  I love you.

What does a five year old kid know?

Caleb had a great baseball game last Saturday.  He hit three doubles. His coach said that he hit that one of those doubles was a home run.  He was pumped.  I love hearing him tell me about it.  I was getting things ready for a party we were throwing so Christa took him to his game.  He caught the baseball bug.  He hadn't shown great interest in it up until last Saturday.  One good game has caused him to want to be better than he was last week.  We've been practicing all week.  His idea.  He wants me to throw him grounders.  He wants to practice batting.  He tells me, "wait let me get into formation" when he's getting into his batting stance.  He then shuffles and gets his elbow up, puts a little bend in his knees.  He's listened to his coaches and taken their advice and put in to practice at home.  He's grabbed it.  He's hungry to play baseball.  All it took was one good game.  This little guy has taught me a lesson that I forgot.  The other day he said, "Dad if you want to get better at something, you have to practice".  I think we forget.  You can't always be the best at everything all the time.  You can be better though.  Do you want to know what a five year old knows?  Practice makes you better.  Work at it.  You'll get better. 

My phone number.

I don't know what it is.  I think it's because my birthday was a few days ago.  I think I'm just now in the grieving process for my brother being gone.  I think I went numb for a few months.  I shed a lot of tears in the days after he was gone, but recently, it's hit me like a ton of bricks.  I shared a memory on facebook of a post he sent me on my birthday in 2014.  I wish back then I would have known how much weight it held today.  He told me I was a good brother, and that he loved and appreciated me.  In those moments when Josh expressed something like that, I wish I could've stopped myself and told me to appreciate this.  I mean really appreciate it.  Thank God for facebook.  I'm not kidding.  I would have never had that one tiny post that Josh had written to remind me of what he felt in that particular moment on that particular day.  My missing him, and being really sad that he is gone from Earth, really came home to roost when I saw that.  It made me very happy, and very sad, all at the same time.  I miss him.  I miss having him around.  I miss the stupid two minute phone calls, that had no point, but I knew were for him just to say hey I'm around.  He would say hey what are you doing? I would probably say nothing.  We would chit chat about some random thing, and he would say, or I would say, welp, I've got to go.  I have to admit, I sometimes wasn't very polite to Josh when he called for no reason, but I would give a lot of things, for just one more.

His death has forced me to ask a lot of questions.  Not to God.  To myself.  My faith in who God is hasn't ever wavered in the months since Josh has been gone.  My faith in myself has though.  These thoughts are not fully developed, just so you know. I need to get them out, so I can come up with a plan of action. I feel like I need to make my life matter.  I'm not writing this to get sympathy messages from anyone.  I don't want to hear, "you matter to me".  I'm not even looking for examples of how i've done something for you.  I want it to count.  I want to change something in the world.  I feel like Josh left some stuff on the table.  There are a million cliches that I can write after this sentence.  Don't worry.  I won't write them. I feel like I need to accomplish something for him.  Something that I know he would've appreciated while he was still here.  I really think that if he could come back and have one last conversation with all of us. I really think he would tell us that he didn't finish.   Finish what?  No idea.  But he would say that he could've done more while he was here.  I saw the look in his eyes when I would come see him towards the end.  I know what I saw.  I know what he was telling me without telling me.  He was telling me to finish strong for him.  So....I'm going to.  I'm going to find something to do that matters to people. I'm going to change a small part of the world, and while I'm doing it, I'm going to be thinking about my brother.  I really don't know a good way to end this.  I think it's important for you to know that if you need someone to talk to. I'll talk to you.  I think I'm a good listener, and sometimes all we need is someone to talk to.  The way I'm going to change the world, is going to be by offering a relationship.  People crave a one on one meaningful conversation, and in our cruel, busy world, no one can talk to someone.  Josh would come and talk to me.  When we would go on road trips, we would just talk.  Its how all of this changes.  It's how we matter.  It's how we make our lives count.  If you have my phone number, call me.  If you don't, I'll give it to you.

The smell is the memory

It's no secret to you that I love barbecue.  While it is my favorite style of food to eat, there is a lot more to it.  I love the ritual of it.  A few days before, I start preparing.  I go pick out the cut of meat.  I brine it.  I season it.  I wrap it up and let the seasoning do it's work.  There have been a number of times, I've woke up before the sun came up to get the smoker going.  There is a lot of preparation that goes into it.  I rarely ever smoke something for just the four of us.  Christa isn't actually that big of a fan of bbq.  I try not to force it on her.  When I smoke meat, it normally means that at some point later in the day, people will be coming to my house.  I enjoy feeding them.  I enjoy the idea that for that one meal, whoever is there, doesn't have to worry about feeding themselves or their kids.  I enjoy that they're at my house and chatting and hanging out.  I think the real reason why I love bbq, has very little to do with the meat itself.  I have actually eaten less of it, now that I make it all the time.  I want my boys to remember that I put the time in for them, to cook them something that takes a long time to cook.  I want my friends to remember that I enjoyed spending time with them.  I want to my wife to know the effort that I put i to go against my nature and opening up our house to any number of people and not sit in the corner alone.  I want my sons to be reminded of me when they smell meat being smoked.  The memories we are creating will be accessed through the sense of smell.  I remember what my Granny's house smelled like when she was making fried pies.  I remember what my Grandma's house smelled like when she was making the dressing.  I remember what the air smelled  like when my Dad and Grandpa and I were at the river fishing.  I remember what our front yard smelled like when I was chasing my brother down to give him a wet willy.  I remember what our house smelled like when it was taco Tuesday.  I remember what our house smelled like when my Dad would grill steaks.  I remember what it smelled like when my parents would throw a friend's reunion out at the Otis gym.  I remember what it smelled like when Doyle fell through the innertube at Avalon and we though he had drowned.  (He didn't).  I remember all of it.  We get caught up in the daily grind.  All the greatest memories I have in my life, happened with other people.  I remember what it smelled like in Show Low at Torreon on October 16 2010 when Christa made me her husband.  I remember what the hospital rooms smelled like when our babies were born.  I want my boys to know that they're important.  So one way I know that I can do that, is to create an environment where there are a lot of people around that love their parents, and that love them.  That's why I barbecue.

The Surreality Vs. The Reality

So at a certain point this weekend, I will have the chance to run into Mack Brown in the hotel I'm staying at. You may be asking the question, Who's Mack Brown? It's good that we have a thing called google.  For me, he's someone that I admire greatly.  I will always be appreciative for the helmet he signed as a wedding gift from one of our dear friends.  I'm sitting in a media workroom at the media hotel in Tampa, working on my blog and making people think I'm actually doing something important besides bloviating on a blog that no one reads.  The same dear friend that gave us the helmet, is also one of the key members of the College Football Playoff National Championship Game staff.  She lets me come and help do some fun things for her game.  My wife actually works and runs a number of different operations, and I get to come in and do all the fun stuff.  We get free food, I'll get to go to one of the team practices for a few minutes.  I also get to escort coaches/players around to where they need to go.  I've met some great and wonderful people that I never would have known at all.  What I'm trying to say is,  I appreciate it. 

Sometimes I catch myself getting hammered by life.  I think negatively more often than I should.  I get frustrated that things aren't working quite the way that I think they should go.  I've been thinking a lot about life recently.  I've been thinking about my brother and all the people that I know that have passed away, and I wonder what the best way to honor them is?  I think that it has to start with me at least being appreciative for still being here.  After that, I need to be appreciative for the opportunities I have to experience life.  I have always loved college football. The fact that I get to spend 6 days in the heart of it, still blows every part of my mind away.  I'm a little more comfortable around everything than I was when I first started, but I still find myself thinking how surreal it is that I have the chance to do this every year.  

I prayed for the right woman to come along and be my wife for a long time.  I know I prayed earnestly about it as I entered my late 20's.  As my mid 30's crept up, I began to resign myself to the fact that she wasn't going to come along.  And then, BOOM! Out of nowhere this match came up on EHarmony that had a picture of a really cute girl with an opening line that said, "I love college football, I volunteer for the Fiesta Bowl." I was smitten.  I immediately did whatever it was that you did to begin communication with her. She answered back.  I'm not going to tell you the story of taking 3 months to ask her out. When I did, and we went out for the first time, I knew I loved her.  I loved her more than I'd loved anyone in my life.  I still do.  Not only do I love her that much still, I appreciate her even more.  I had no idea what the line "I volunteer for the Fiesta Bowl" meant.  I had no idea that because of her, all of my college football dreams could come true.  You should see her here in the media areas.  She's doing what she was born to do.  She loves organizing and administrating, and helping.  She wants these games to be great.  She wants the volunteers to have a great time.  She wants to be a help to her friends that make this their full time job.  She's great at it.  I love seeing her in action.  I appreciate her.  

I appreciate that people that stay at home and take care of my boys.  My Mom sacrifices some sanity to keep a 5 and 3 year old alive.  I want her to know that I appreciate it.  My Dad sacrifices by being with my Mom and helping out with the boys.  Christa's parents are keeping them overnights a couple of nights while we're gone.  There are any number of other people that help us out as well.  I appreciate all of you.  

This new year, I really want to start out by being more appreciative.  That's where I'm starting.