No real rhyme or reason for writing tonight other than I've got some time to kill after another day of workshop and logistics. So I figured I'd jump on here in the instance that any lost souls are looking for an oasis in the dried up fields of the Internet Blogosphere...
And I'll offer a PRE- Apology for not writing in creative and flowing essay form - I'm just not so moved at the moment.
Random observances and experiences of the Naluagmiu with the orange beard...
* At the corner of Lagoon Street and Third Ave there is a a separate sign attached to the post just below the Stop sign. It reads " No Littering" - but not too many people in Kotz pay attention to that.
* A 20 oz. Mountain Dew cost me $3.17 at the AC Store (Alaska Commercial) - I splurged because I'm giving up Pop once I get to The Rock.
* "The Rock" is what I've affectionately nicknamed the Island of Kivalina. Although I've never been there, I anxiously am looking forward to Friday and my Bering Air flight delivering me safely. I wonder if Sean Connery will be there to welcome us.
*It's probably more of a sand and gravel bar but that doesn't soften the solitary confinement of living on island. The ROCK!
* $259 a night will secure you a one night stay in the local motel. It's a fancy joint located right on the Kotzebue Sound with a breathtaking view of water and mountains. I recommend the Reindeer Burger and if you're with corporate SHELL - you might save a few bucks.
* In the last last 10 days, I've eaten more Asian and Mexican food here north of the Arctic Circle than I did in the previous 2 months of Summer.
* In my defense, I've also eaten RAW Seal Blubber, RAW Reindeer Kidney, cooked BlackMeat of a Seal, and a stew of Reindeer Liver, Tongue and Venison.
* I've applied sunscreen after 8:00 pm more than once.
* The new teachers of the C3/C4 have bonded. Bonded enough to have given each other nicknames and to separate off in to cliques for meals and travel.
* When you strike up a conversation with any of the locals, most are inquisitive and respectful about our plight - until they hear we're headed for Kivalina. And then conversation shifts...often silently and into a darker place but that is quickly followed by laughs, sympathy and sometimes hugs.
* T-Mobile has been taking my money in the Lower 48 for more than a decade. We've had a tempestuous relationship to put it nicely - until today. I stood in line for close to an hour at GCI, the Alaskan cellular provider, and was pleasantly surprised to learn that my T-Mobile is the lost Step-Brother of GCI. And to make it better, they play nicely together. No more/no less money out of my pocket - even on The Rock.
* Folks say that it's hard to infer emotion and intent through email and text. However, those folks didn't get the frantic text messages that I got from Michele today as she tried to solicit my help with un-hitching the camper from our new truck in Gooseberry Falls...which I haven't hit up on Google Earth yet but I'm pretty sure it's 5,000 miles from here. I offered advice but was glad to hear the Tom from Hawaii was there to help.
* School districts and colleges in the Lower 48 could take lessons from the NWABSD and the University of Alaska Anchorage. They are footing the bill, training us nicely AND setting me up with 6+ graduate credits. (I'll gladly write in my Feelings Journal for you again tonight if you're going to keep feeding me and forcing lane changes on me.)
* There are people from every clime and place in this far away land. I thought I'd have an interesting story to tell - but mine is a tame tale compared to those in my present company. (but I'll save that for a different day.)
I miss my wife and kids like no tomorrow. Their love and devotion is what gets me out of bed every day. I cannot wait to hold them all in my arms again. Until then - I'll just be the Naluagmiu taking it all in and writing here from time to time.
naluagmiu - Iñupiaq term nor non-Native, literally meaning "bleached sealskin"
Tuesday, August 4, 2015
Saturday, August 1, 2015
ALASKAN BUG DOPE.
“Ahhh, Don’t worry. We’ll get Bug Spray when we get to Anchorage…”
It is high noon on Friday July 17th, year of Our Lord 2015.
My world has been bit up, chewed up and spit out. In a matter of weeks, I have crashed through the walls and into the street with the Mud and the Blood and the Beers. What was once “normal” left on the last train to Clarksville. It’s been a challenging and eventful series of circumstances but by the Grace of God and with the love of my wife, I am still standing. I’m no longer up against the ropes, taking punches off the chin. I have bobbed and weaved, deflected and even swung back. The tide has turned and I am once again in control of calling the shots that affect my life.
After 14 years of teaching 6th Grade in Small Town, Minnesota, I am stepping out of my comfort zone and taking a leap of Faith. I leave next Thursday to begin a year of service to the children and families of Kivalina, ALASKA.
Michele is the thing I love most about ME. She is my guiding light and ironically, the one to shove me off the cliff. Michele faithfully stood beside me while others cast stones in my direction. Michele watched painfully as others questioned my character, integrity and commitment, meanwhile, hers never waivered. She is as equally intelligent as she is beautiful and I am impressed regularly how elegant and insightful she really is. I would not be the man I am today without the love and attention that she has committed to our family and me. Point is, she’s as much a part of this decision as I am and is excited for US.
There was no perfect time to tell Emma and Logan. I struggled with delicate thoughts of abandonment and was depressed daily as I sorted through the things that I might miss in the coming year. My wife counseled me that those things will all be there when I return and one missed musical or birthday will be but a droplet in my children’s collective childhood. The lessons that they will pull from this are hard to see right now but we are confident that leaving, even if just for a while, will teach them about commitment and love, determination and faith, trust and honor. With no perfect time or place, I was running out of time and so we just told them… at Fat Pie Pizzeria in Fairhaven, Washington - last week. And it was perfect. Like them.
The hoops of licensure through the Alaskan Department of Education have been jumped through. The check is in the mail. I am approved and registered for orientation and a multi-cultural graduate studies class through the University of Alaska Anchorage. The flight is booked.
School starts in Kivalina on August 18th – yet I begin the next leg of my journey in six days.
There is packing left to do. LOTS!
There is shopping and resting and more running left, too. LOTS!
Last night the Small Town, Minnesota School Board approved a one-year Leave of Absence. And this morning I faxed my signed and notarized contract to the Northwest Arctic Borough School District in Kotzebue.
Last night I sat at the kitchen table with my bearded friend who’s partially responsible for this exciting chapter in my life. He and I discussed the ins and outs of teaching in “Bush”, AK. We talked about adventures had and more to come. I was looking over packing lists with a fine-toothed comb when I asked him about Bug Spray…
“We’re from Minnesota, Ben. Do I really need to pack bug spray?”
“Ahhh, Don’t worry. We’ll get Bug Spray when we get to Anchorage…”
And that makes me smile.
Thursday, February 5, 2015
"A Happy person breaks in to song at least 3 times a day."
Darrin Fish was one of two Captains of the Warroad Warrior High School football team back in 1992. Besides football, he and I shared a few other things in common. We enjoyed a good laugh -usually at the expense of sacrificing a ground breaking lesson in English class. Darrin and I both enrolled in and actively participated in Weight Training class. Admittedly, he may have been blessed with some genetics that were more responsive to tossing rocks. Either way, we pumped some iron together back in the day. As a matter of fact, he and I both worked for a time being at the American Legion. It's probably a good thing that careers weren't made there but we no doubt got our money's worth out of every single complimentary meal earned once per shift.
One of the things that I most remember binding us together was our affinity for Classic Rock & Roll - not the Chuck Berry and the Big Bopper rock. I'm talking 60's, 70's, early 80's stuff with a little more punch, harder rock. Clapton, Sabbath, Hendrix, Floyd, KISS - good vinyl that I could easily raid from my Old Man's record cabinet. Bluesy, folk rock to some, HEAVY Metal to others. The thread that held it all together for us two friends though was a higher appreciation for four lads from London that once went by the name of "the New Yardbirds". The world remembers them as LED ZEPPELIN.
I fondly remember discussing the finer points of each album like we were heralded music critics. We regularly tried to impress each other by spouting off random facts that we picked up anywhere from books, to documentaries, to even stories from older generations that may have experienced the madness firsthand.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
This morning I threw on a headset in the school's computer lab. Forced in front of a screen for the better part of two hours, I wondered how I would fill the time while my students navigated their way through purposeless, standardized testing practice. Pandora was my answer - Online music streaming at my finger tips! Having plugged a few genres in to the music service website before, I had a few choices when I first logged on.
Not in the mood for Classic Country. The arctic weather outside and this cold computer lab wouldn't mix at all with a dose of 90's Hip Hop. Stone Sour, Zac Brown, not even Carrie Underwood sounded like the right fit to soothe my soul this morning but my day took a Big Uptick when I clicked on Led Zeppelin Radio.
"Tangerine" (by far my #1 song from Zeppelin III) started a wonderful ride - followed by "Shine On You Crazy Diamond" (all 9 parts of Pink Floyd's classic composition) - Steve Miller Band, Tom Petty, CCR, back to Led Zeppelin - the music kept the headphones flooded with good vibes. The somber mood in the testing lab had no bearing in my blogging world. A World that, this morning, was accompanied by a clutch soundtrack!
* * * * * * * * *
Darrin Fish, as I remember, was an introvert. Sitting in the crowd at a Football PepFest my Senior year, I could see my friend struggle as our coach called him up front and in to the spotlight. Coach Bengston whipped the crowd up with little effort. Everyone was primed for the next Big game. I sensed that Darrin was uncomfortable when it became apparent that soon the Head Coach was going to hand his Captain the microphone.
Fish froze when it actually happened. He almost went Twilight Zone on us. There he stood with a blank stare on his face while he rocked back and forth - at a loss for words. And that's when I hollered from the masses....
"Lyrics! LYRICS man - hit us with some Lyrics!"
People laughed and Darrin smiled.
Everything was just alright.
One of the things that I most remember binding us together was our affinity for Classic Rock & Roll - not the Chuck Berry and the Big Bopper rock. I'm talking 60's, 70's, early 80's stuff with a little more punch, harder rock. Clapton, Sabbath, Hendrix, Floyd, KISS - good vinyl that I could easily raid from my Old Man's record cabinet. Bluesy, folk rock to some, HEAVY Metal to others. The thread that held it all together for us two friends though was a higher appreciation for four lads from London that once went by the name of "the New Yardbirds". The world remembers them as LED ZEPPELIN.
I fondly remember discussing the finer points of each album like we were heralded music critics. We regularly tried to impress each other by spouting off random facts that we picked up anywhere from books, to documentaries, to even stories from older generations that may have experienced the madness firsthand.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
This morning I threw on a headset in the school's computer lab. Forced in front of a screen for the better part of two hours, I wondered how I would fill the time while my students navigated their way through purposeless, standardized testing practice. Pandora was my answer - Online music streaming at my finger tips! Having plugged a few genres in to the music service website before, I had a few choices when I first logged on.
Not in the mood for Classic Country. The arctic weather outside and this cold computer lab wouldn't mix at all with a dose of 90's Hip Hop. Stone Sour, Zac Brown, not even Carrie Underwood sounded like the right fit to soothe my soul this morning but my day took a Big Uptick when I clicked on Led Zeppelin Radio.
"Tangerine" (by far my #1 song from Zeppelin III) started a wonderful ride - followed by "Shine On You Crazy Diamond" (all 9 parts of Pink Floyd's classic composition) - Steve Miller Band, Tom Petty, CCR, back to Led Zeppelin - the music kept the headphones flooded with good vibes. The somber mood in the testing lab had no bearing in my blogging world. A World that, this morning, was accompanied by a clutch soundtrack!
* * * * * * * * *
Darrin Fish, as I remember, was an introvert. Sitting in the crowd at a Football PepFest my Senior year, I could see my friend struggle as our coach called him up front and in to the spotlight. Coach Bengston whipped the crowd up with little effort. Everyone was primed for the next Big game. I sensed that Darrin was uncomfortable when it became apparent that soon the Head Coach was going to hand his Captain the microphone.
Fish froze when it actually happened. He almost went Twilight Zone on us. There he stood with a blank stare on his face while he rocked back and forth - at a loss for words. And that's when I hollered from the masses....
"Lyrics! LYRICS man - hit us with some Lyrics!"
People laughed and Darrin smiled.
Everything was just alright.
Thursday, January 29, 2015
Echo 4 Kilo - Out
After taking 3 and a half months off from this blog, I wrote here again on Jan. 20th....that's probably a good thing, cuz I gotta get some shit off my chest... Sorry. - Echo 4 Kilo
*********************************************************************************
There's a particular picture frame hanging on the wall in my old man's place that I was reminded of tonight. Not totally unlike the others, this collage only comes to mind because of the photo of a young, carrot-topped, freckle-faced kid. I don't know how old I am exactly in said "happy snappy" but I can't be any bigger than knee high to a grasshopper.
I suppose it's probably hung there for much longer than I've noticed but I never really paid much attention to it until about 7 or 8 years ago. And by now, I've looked at this one little studio portrait well over a hundred times. Ya see, I just can't walk past it anymore without stopping and recognizing the resemblance between me and my son, Logan.
I know that it's no shocker that a boy might look like his dad, but honestly, it's sometimes a real stretch convincing someone that the orange hair and freckles from that 70's pic could really be a ringer for my youngest and luckily, better looking offspring. Others might notice a few similarities but for whatever reason, this is the picture that does it for me.
This is the picture that reminds me that my boy is cast from the same mold that I was. This picture is proof to me that Logan's broad shoulders and barrel chest (polite way of talking about the belly) are not just a minor coincidence but rather evidence of genetics and lineage.
Logan's fishing prowess has been written about here before. His love of hockey and the outdoors has been documented on this blog more than once. Besides bloodlines, he and I share a lot of things.
And that's what scares me tonight.
My 8 year old son knows more about weapons safety than your average Joe. He's been brought up with guns in the house and therefor, I have insisted that he understand the 4 safety rules.
1.) Treat every weapon as if it were loaded.
2.) Never point a weapon at anything you do not intend to shoot.
3.) Keep finger straight and off the trigger until you are ready to fire.
4.) Keep weapon on safe until you intend to fire.
From early on I have always told him that when he wants to see the firearms in the house, all he has to do is ask. We've covered situations and scenarios time and time again. He saved for and bought a .410 shotgun when he turned 6. Shortly thereafter he set out a plan to by his first rifle - a .22 Cricket. Let me tell you, this kid can shoot. But he's disciplined and understands that the guns we own are not toys. We tote them in the woods and we fire them at the range because I want him to be comfortable with yet maintain that ultimate level of responsibility and respect that comes with arming yourself.
I'm not talking a stand for the NRA and the Second Amendment here. Nor am I bragging about my pint sized sharpshooter. I only talk about his interest in guns as another example of our similarities. It's there that I begin to waver. I want Logan to become his own man. I want him to experience life on his own path. I made many a mistake on this rocky road and am sure that the kid can and will benefit from writing his own destiny not repeating mine.
Let's cut to the chase...
Tonight I finally got my wife out to see the film "American Sniper". I know war flicks are not Michele's "cup of tea" but I felt a calling to see this movie. Apparently millions of others have felt that same calling because Clint's docu-drama is setting the Box Office on fire. I was familiar with the story of Navy SEAL Chris Kyle and as enough folks talked on social media about their experience with the movie, Michele became aware that there was a possibility of some real emotions tied to this one. As we walked in to the cinema she even asked me, "Am I gonna cry or are you?"
Me.
I cried.
A lot.
Fuck Off.
Each firefight took me through oddly different physiological reactions. I clenched. I fidgeted. My breathing changed. I suppressed the urge to blurt out more than once. At one point, my entire right arm felt locked against my side. My palms got sweaty. I tried to play it cool. Tried to remember that I was in a podunk movie theater, a million miles from "the Suck". At times I reached out just to touch Michele's leg, just enough to pull me back to Earth.
Just a movie - I know, right?
Fuck Off.
Bottom line = good film, a bit of Hollywood as you can expect,plenty of realism. I'm no film critic...Just throwing in my 2 cents. I'll re-watch it again someday. Not anytime soon though. Kyle and everyone else that's ever honorably "laced them up" are the backbone of what makes this country so great. Period. If you don't feel the same way, Fuck Off.
And for that I am very proud to have earned the title, United State Marine....but that brings me back to my story of the littlest Kirby that lives in this house.
We affectionately call him "the Bear."
Make no mistake, I love all 3 of my children. Beautiful, intelligent, talented, caring and loving - words that I proudly use to describe all three. So much alike yet wonderfully different, each in their very own way.
But tonight I got scared a little. The movie, "American Sniper" brought out an emotion that I've not paid much attention to. After the flick took me on an emotional roller coaster, I drove away with tears streaming down my face and all I could think of was whether or not Logan is a SheepDog.
Will he, one day, stand up and say that he's willing to do what others aren't? I've seen firsthand some of the ugliness portrayed in this movie. Years ago, I stood in the belly of the beast. I walked that patrol. I've been prepared to defend my country against all enemies both foreign and domestic. I know the World has some very dark places and tonight I think I realized that I don't want Logan, Emma, Tyler or any more of my loved ones to have to learn that the way I did
But the choice is no longer mine...and that's, I think, what scared me tonight. I'm scared that Logan is a SheepDog and will someday sign that dotted line.
Maybe not - I'll love him just the same.
Echo 4 Kilo - Out
Side note : Metallica Fans???
Remember the old movie clips in "ONE"? They were from the movie "Johnny Got His Gun". Very vividly, I remember the scene where little Joe asks his Dad,
"When it comes my turn, will you want me to go?"
*********************************************************************************
There's a particular picture frame hanging on the wall in my old man's place that I was reminded of tonight. Not totally unlike the others, this collage only comes to mind because of the photo of a young, carrot-topped, freckle-faced kid. I don't know how old I am exactly in said "happy snappy" but I can't be any bigger than knee high to a grasshopper.
I suppose it's probably hung there for much longer than I've noticed but I never really paid much attention to it until about 7 or 8 years ago. And by now, I've looked at this one little studio portrait well over a hundred times. Ya see, I just can't walk past it anymore without stopping and recognizing the resemblance between me and my son, Logan.
I know that it's no shocker that a boy might look like his dad, but honestly, it's sometimes a real stretch convincing someone that the orange hair and freckles from that 70's pic could really be a ringer for my youngest and luckily, better looking offspring. Others might notice a few similarities but for whatever reason, this is the picture that does it for me.
This is the picture that reminds me that my boy is cast from the same mold that I was. This picture is proof to me that Logan's broad shoulders and barrel chest (polite way of talking about the belly) are not just a minor coincidence but rather evidence of genetics and lineage.
Logan's fishing prowess has been written about here before. His love of hockey and the outdoors has been documented on this blog more than once. Besides bloodlines, he and I share a lot of things.
And that's what scares me tonight.
My 8 year old son knows more about weapons safety than your average Joe. He's been brought up with guns in the house and therefor, I have insisted that he understand the 4 safety rules.
1.) Treat every weapon as if it were loaded.
2.) Never point a weapon at anything you do not intend to shoot.
3.) Keep finger straight and off the trigger until you are ready to fire.
4.) Keep weapon on safe until you intend to fire.
From early on I have always told him that when he wants to see the firearms in the house, all he has to do is ask. We've covered situations and scenarios time and time again. He saved for and bought a .410 shotgun when he turned 6. Shortly thereafter he set out a plan to by his first rifle - a .22 Cricket. Let me tell you, this kid can shoot. But he's disciplined and understands that the guns we own are not toys. We tote them in the woods and we fire them at the range because I want him to be comfortable with yet maintain that ultimate level of responsibility and respect that comes with arming yourself.
I'm not talking a stand for the NRA and the Second Amendment here. Nor am I bragging about my pint sized sharpshooter. I only talk about his interest in guns as another example of our similarities. It's there that I begin to waver. I want Logan to become his own man. I want him to experience life on his own path. I made many a mistake on this rocky road and am sure that the kid can and will benefit from writing his own destiny not repeating mine.
Let's cut to the chase...
Tonight I finally got my wife out to see the film "American Sniper". I know war flicks are not Michele's "cup of tea" but I felt a calling to see this movie. Apparently millions of others have felt that same calling because Clint's docu-drama is setting the Box Office on fire. I was familiar with the story of Navy SEAL Chris Kyle and as enough folks talked on social media about their experience with the movie, Michele became aware that there was a possibility of some real emotions tied to this one. As we walked in to the cinema she even asked me, "Am I gonna cry or are you?"
Me.
I cried.
A lot.
Fuck Off.
Each firefight took me through oddly different physiological reactions. I clenched. I fidgeted. My breathing changed. I suppressed the urge to blurt out more than once. At one point, my entire right arm felt locked against my side. My palms got sweaty. I tried to play it cool. Tried to remember that I was in a podunk movie theater, a million miles from "the Suck". At times I reached out just to touch Michele's leg, just enough to pull me back to Earth.
Just a movie - I know, right?
Fuck Off.
Bottom line = good film, a bit of Hollywood as you can expect,plenty of realism. I'm no film critic...Just throwing in my 2 cents. I'll re-watch it again someday. Not anytime soon though. Kyle and everyone else that's ever honorably "laced them up" are the backbone of what makes this country so great. Period. If you don't feel the same way, Fuck Off.
And for that I am very proud to have earned the title, United State Marine....but that brings me back to my story of the littlest Kirby that lives in this house.
We affectionately call him "the Bear."
Make no mistake, I love all 3 of my children. Beautiful, intelligent, talented, caring and loving - words that I proudly use to describe all three. So much alike yet wonderfully different, each in their very own way.
But tonight I got scared a little. The movie, "American Sniper" brought out an emotion that I've not paid much attention to. After the flick took me on an emotional roller coaster, I drove away with tears streaming down my face and all I could think of was whether or not Logan is a SheepDog.
Will he, one day, stand up and say that he's willing to do what others aren't? I've seen firsthand some of the ugliness portrayed in this movie. Years ago, I stood in the belly of the beast. I walked that patrol. I've been prepared to defend my country against all enemies both foreign and domestic. I know the World has some very dark places and tonight I think I realized that I don't want Logan, Emma, Tyler or any more of my loved ones to have to learn that the way I did
But the choice is no longer mine...and that's, I think, what scared me tonight. I'm scared that Logan is a SheepDog and will someday sign that dotted line.
Maybe not - I'll love him just the same.
Echo 4 Kilo - Out
Remember the old movie clips in "ONE"? They were from the movie "Johnny Got His Gun". Very vividly, I remember the scene where little Joe asks his Dad,
"When it comes my turn, will you want me to go?"
Sunday, January 25, 2015
"It's this whole other Country...."
The cliché of oversized SUVs carting around spoiled little hockey protégés and their helicopter parents has been written about many a times. Although I now again feel fully qualified to throw my opinion out there about Old School Hockey vs. the Land of CakeEaters, I will politely refrain.
Saturday and Sunday, Emma and the rest of the Squirt B2s skated "On the Edge" in a tourney up in the hillside, port city of Duluth. This Band of Misfits has had the date marked on their calendars for a long time. This would be the first official Hotel and Hockey trip for most of them. Having lead these "emerging" players through a grueling season so far, us coaches agreed that a waterpark oasis would be just the right thing to motivate the kids to keep playing hard.
Let's be honest for a second. There isn't a delicate way to put it. We've regularly struggled against teams that come from a distinctly different socio-economic demographic. Again I will do my best to hold off from turning this in to a rant about the Haves vs. the Have-Nots, but, to put it bluntly, we have been continually railroaded by teams within our District that are pulling players from a population that is exponentially larger than ours and represents a very different tax bracket. Over-matched and seemingly playing every shift shorthanded, us four coaches have done our best to remain positive all the while, balancing the acquisition of skills and teaching basic hockey systems.
Saturday's first game was held at the beautiful, Duluth Heritage Center but unfortunately it started quickly with what we've become all to accustomed to. The Ponies from Stillwater could literally skate circles around some of our players. Until their coaches called off the pressure, they were pumping in goals at an alarming rate . A final score of "A Lot to Not Enough" was immediately erased from the score board and almost as quickly we did our best to erase it from the players' minds. Lunch, snacks, waterslides and fellowship washed away any bad feelings that may have lingered as I was reminded that our "Misfits" were truly good kids just out to have some fun. With smiles and a bounce in their step, we started to look forward to the evening tilt against the Lumberjacks of Cloquet.
Game #2 on the Consolation side of the bracket found us leaving West Duluth and the land of swank, high-end, hockey digs. Up the hill and away from the lake sat the steel and aluminum thrown together in the early 1970's that the locals call Fryberger Arena. I breathed a sigh of relief when I walked into that arena. Hockey, as we know it in Pine City, is an equal effort by both athlete and fan to not let the thrills and chills of the building itself get the best of you. There is a shared level of comfort and respect in the discomfort of a cozy "working man's" rink. Fryberger Arena could very well be the Up North cousin of good old, Korbel - Home of the Dragons, and our B2s played like it. Many more smiles were had because we matched up a little more favorably against the Lumberjacks. Pizza and waterslides followed.
Losing on day one earns everyone an early wake-up on day two. I was pleasantly surprised to see everyone report to the locker room with renewed optimism. Say what you want, but our team of little miscreants sure are resilient. On more than one occasion, I've heard players banter back and forth in pre-game conversation how the next game is going to be all ours. Today held much of the same. Some parents even showed a little spring in their step and a twinkle in their eye as the buzz in the corridors was the fair and equal match up of the two teams about to take the early morning ice.
There was this one other thing though...
Normally, a few players will wander out of the locker room before a big game. Sometimes they're in search of some last minute advice from a parent. Other times, the kids like to catch the tail end of the game preceding ours or some just get caught in the hypnotic draw of watching the Zamboni work it's pattern of magic. Today,there was none of that. We were the first game on the docket and the Zamboni had resurfaced the ice long before we ever got to the arena...
So why were there so many of our fully dressed players outside of the locker room just before game time? And why had some of the kids we don't normally see out of their routines,changed things up by lingering along the glass? And what was with the silly grins and giggles?
Something was up.
So I asked. "What's going on gang?"
To which someone in the back quickly replied, "Coach, is it true? Is the team we're playing from Canada?"
"Yes?" I responded...
To which my own daughter squealed, "I wanna see the Canadians!"
And everyone laughed...and the game was good.
And the weekend was good.
Practice on Monday @ 5:45 p.m.
Saturday and Sunday, Emma and the rest of the Squirt B2s skated "On the Edge" in a tourney up in the hillside, port city of Duluth. This Band of Misfits has had the date marked on their calendars for a long time. This would be the first official Hotel and Hockey trip for most of them. Having lead these "emerging" players through a grueling season so far, us coaches agreed that a waterpark oasis would be just the right thing to motivate the kids to keep playing hard.
Let's be honest for a second. There isn't a delicate way to put it. We've regularly struggled against teams that come from a distinctly different socio-economic demographic. Again I will do my best to hold off from turning this in to a rant about the Haves vs. the Have-Nots, but, to put it bluntly, we have been continually railroaded by teams within our District that are pulling players from a population that is exponentially larger than ours and represents a very different tax bracket. Over-matched and seemingly playing every shift shorthanded, us four coaches have done our best to remain positive all the while, balancing the acquisition of skills and teaching basic hockey systems.
Saturday's first game was held at the beautiful, Duluth Heritage Center but unfortunately it started quickly with what we've become all to accustomed to. The Ponies from Stillwater could literally skate circles around some of our players. Until their coaches called off the pressure, they were pumping in goals at an alarming rate . A final score of "A Lot to Not Enough" was immediately erased from the score board and almost as quickly we did our best to erase it from the players' minds. Lunch, snacks, waterslides and fellowship washed away any bad feelings that may have lingered as I was reminded that our "Misfits" were truly good kids just out to have some fun. With smiles and a bounce in their step, we started to look forward to the evening tilt against the Lumberjacks of Cloquet.
Game #2 on the Consolation side of the bracket found us leaving West Duluth and the land of swank, high-end, hockey digs. Up the hill and away from the lake sat the steel and aluminum thrown together in the early 1970's that the locals call Fryberger Arena. I breathed a sigh of relief when I walked into that arena. Hockey, as we know it in Pine City, is an equal effort by both athlete and fan to not let the thrills and chills of the building itself get the best of you. There is a shared level of comfort and respect in the discomfort of a cozy "working man's" rink. Fryberger Arena could very well be the Up North cousin of good old, Korbel - Home of the Dragons, and our B2s played like it. Many more smiles were had because we matched up a little more favorably against the Lumberjacks. Pizza and waterslides followed.
Losing on day one earns everyone an early wake-up on day two. I was pleasantly surprised to see everyone report to the locker room with renewed optimism. Say what you want, but our team of little miscreants sure are resilient. On more than one occasion, I've heard players banter back and forth in pre-game conversation how the next game is going to be all ours. Today held much of the same. Some parents even showed a little spring in their step and a twinkle in their eye as the buzz in the corridors was the fair and equal match up of the two teams about to take the early morning ice.
There was this one other thing though...
Normally, a few players will wander out of the locker room before a big game. Sometimes they're in search of some last minute advice from a parent. Other times, the kids like to catch the tail end of the game preceding ours or some just get caught in the hypnotic draw of watching the Zamboni work it's pattern of magic. Today,there was none of that. We were the first game on the docket and the Zamboni had resurfaced the ice long before we ever got to the arena...
So why were there so many of our fully dressed players outside of the locker room just before game time? And why had some of the kids we don't normally see out of their routines,changed things up by lingering along the glass? And what was with the silly grins and giggles?
Something was up.
So I asked. "What's going on gang?"
To which someone in the back quickly replied, "Coach, is it true? Is the team we're playing from Canada?"
"Yes?" I responded...
To which my own daughter squealed, "I wanna see the Canadians!"
And everyone laughed...and the game was good.
And the weekend was good.
Practice on Monday @ 5:45 p.m.
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
We've got a LapTop?
I miss this BLOG.
I haven't written here in so long, I'm surprised it hasn't broken up with me.
I wonder if anyone still checks and what they must think of me when and if the do. - "Yep, (Sad Face) still the "coaching" story from last October..... Boooooooo."
I've thought about it often - had stories on my fingertips but never the time nor the final, self disciplined, push to put my fingertips to the keyboard.
A lot has happened since last October - things that could have made for great stories.
*Cursing of Cake eating Hockey Parents at the New Hope Ice Arena - Home of the Mighty Ducks - potentially titled, "You're Not Allowed to Leave Your Desert Buddy"
* Race Riots & Courtroom verdicts could have provided a platform for essays on the Balance of Social Injustice and Servitude.
* Boys in Braces and Girls in Hockey - always lots to write about when my kids make me proud almost daily - almost, I mean there's been some hiccups along the road. But generally good daily fodder from them that is nice to commit to digital history on a Blog instead of FaceBook.
* Anniversaries & Holidays - because I wrote less this season does not mean I loved any less. I promise.
The list could and should go on....
I will try to write more.
My wife reminded me that I mindlessly troll the world of Facebook and have not gotten much personal joy from it...and I reminded myself the joy that the written word had brought me at one point. I am going to try to get back to that happy place.
Honest.
I'm pretty sure I haven't touched this keyboard in 3, maybe 4 months... I wonder if it's like "Riding a Bike" - sheesh - there goes another story idea right there. I could write another Bike Story....
If I get off my Fat Butt, this might be fun...until then, Welcome Back Old Friend.
K
I haven't written here in so long, I'm surprised it hasn't broken up with me.
I wonder if anyone still checks and what they must think of me when and if the do. - "Yep, (Sad Face) still the "coaching" story from last October..... Boooooooo."
I've thought about it often - had stories on my fingertips but never the time nor the final, self disciplined, push to put my fingertips to the keyboard.
A lot has happened since last October - things that could have made for great stories.
*Cursing of Cake eating Hockey Parents at the New Hope Ice Arena - Home of the Mighty Ducks - potentially titled, "You're Not Allowed to Leave Your Desert Buddy"
* Race Riots & Courtroom verdicts could have provided a platform for essays on the Balance of Social Injustice and Servitude.
* Boys in Braces and Girls in Hockey - always lots to write about when my kids make me proud almost daily - almost, I mean there's been some hiccups along the road. But generally good daily fodder from them that is nice to commit to digital history on a Blog instead of FaceBook.
* Anniversaries & Holidays - because I wrote less this season does not mean I loved any less. I promise.
The list could and should go on....
I will try to write more.
My wife reminded me that I mindlessly troll the world of Facebook and have not gotten much personal joy from it...and I reminded myself the joy that the written word had brought me at one point. I am going to try to get back to that happy place.
Honest.
I'm pretty sure I haven't touched this keyboard in 3, maybe 4 months... I wonder if it's like "Riding a Bike" - sheesh - there goes another story idea right there. I could write another Bike Story....
If I get off my Fat Butt, this might be fun...until then, Welcome Back Old Friend.
K
Friday, October 3, 2014
D-Train is bored at work...
...meanwhile, I toil another day in the Mine.
This season has shown me why some many good coaches go grey early in life. This season has taught me that no matter how much good you've done for however long... in the hands of fickle fans, your reputation is delicate and and can go from good to ugly before you even have time to check your email.
My bride has listened for far too long to the negativity that surrounds high school athletics. So much that she rarely goes to home football games . It's uncomfortable for her to be around folks that have very little formal training or experience yet profess extensive knowledge. To be honest, it's not fair that my children and wife risk hearing awful and often untrue things about me because I took out Kid Z or called Play Y.
What gets me through?
I'm stubborn and strong willed. I don't like hearing that people doubt me or assume that I can't or won't make it through tough times ....in life, time and time again, I'd like to think that I've proven myself worthy. I'm big on trust, integrity and faithfulness. I owe it to those kids that have busted their rumps for me over the years to not quit on anybody currently giving all they've got just because some general admission fan has diarrhea of the mouth.
Why? Why then...
Why do I coach?
Albright emailed video of the JV squad doing the HAKA after their 32-0 win over Hinckley... more proud that they did the HAKA together and what that means to us than I am in the final score.
Want another reason?
"I got you Coach."
Need any more....
This season has shown me why some many good coaches go grey early in life. This season has taught me that no matter how much good you've done for however long... in the hands of fickle fans, your reputation is delicate and and can go from good to ugly before you even have time to check your email.
My bride has listened for far too long to the negativity that surrounds high school athletics. So much that she rarely goes to home football games . It's uncomfortable for her to be around folks that have very little formal training or experience yet profess extensive knowledge. To be honest, it's not fair that my children and wife risk hearing awful and often untrue things about me because I took out Kid Z or called Play Y.
What gets me through?
I'm stubborn and strong willed. I don't like hearing that people doubt me or assume that I can't or won't make it through tough times ....in life, time and time again, I'd like to think that I've proven myself worthy. I'm big on trust, integrity and faithfulness. I owe it to those kids that have busted their rumps for me over the years to not quit on anybody currently giving all they've got just because some general admission fan has diarrhea of the mouth.
Why? Why then...
Why do I coach?
Albright emailed video of the JV squad doing the HAKA after their 32-0 win over Hinckley... more proud that they did the HAKA together and what that means to us than I am in the final score.
Want another reason?
"I got you Coach."
Need any more....
How about some more Video????
But I swear on my last breath.... give me a BOAT and I'll scale way back.
I'll let some other schmuck take the constant scrutiny.
“There are two things every man in America thinks he can do: work a grill and coach football.”
- Rutgers head coach Greg Schiano
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