My 100th Post

As I'm sitting here alone in my room, in my two bedroom apartment so far away from home there are so many things that happen to be running through my head at this moment.  The thing is this is my 100th post.  When i set out to start blogging I had this grandiose idea of what I was really doing.  I thought that maybe I would be changing the world or something.  Or maybe I would be changing something within myself and finding a higher purpose.

I guess after a hundred of these things I am here to say that the world doesn't work like that.  I have enjoyed every post and at times I feel that maybe the words that I have written here mean something to somebody else besides myself but really and truly this is just a simple blog from a guy that really likes movies, whose friends tune in and read up on this things that he has to say.

I hope I don't sound too much weirder than I normally do in this thing because I feel much weirder today than I have in a long time.  There has been something slowly building inside of me and I feel that maybe this week has finally brought it all to the surface.  And I feel that if I don't write this out and let it out into the world I might just have a nervous breakdown, or even worse completely loose it at just the wrong moment.  

I am suppose to be at a birthday party right now.  I was invited to a party tonight as a friend of the friend that the party was for.  And I got to the place, I parked my car, got all the way to the front door of the apartment complex and I just couldn't do it.  I tried to push the buttons to get into the place, but something stopped me.  I sat outside for about 10 minutes trying to work up the nerve to go in, but I just couldn't.  I didn't want to go in because I didn't know how I was going to act around a group of people.  The crazy thing is that I've never felt like this before. 

Let me just say to all of you folks out there.  Especially my black folks that read this, if you read this.  Just something I wouldn't recommend to any of you out there.  If by some chance you are having a rough week, I would say that it really is not a good idea to go and see the movie 12 Years a Slave.  Now to be perfectly honest with you it is going to be hard enough to watch this movie anyway, which is a great movie by the way, but if you are already having a bad week this movie is not the movie to clear your head with.

Like I said, this movie is amazing.  It is probably the best drama I have seen this year and the performances in this movie are unbelievable and so powerful.  But for me the movie did something else to me.  It has put me in this state of uncertainty.  It has forced me to think about a lot of things that I really haven't ever thought about and I guess things that I really didn't ever want to think about.

I have grown up in a culture, around a group of people that have been nothing but supportive of me and have loved me unconditionally for the weird and quirky person that I am.  And that has been the best thing ever.  But for people of my color that has not always been the case in this country.  If fact the honest truth is that country historically has a great distain for black people, and for a long time we were thought of to be less than human.  

That is a hard thing for me to think about.  A person that loves this country so much.  A person that grew up in the time that I did and have so much love for so many people.  I often times get into debates with my aunts and uncles about subjects of race and race relations in todays era if you will, and I always fight on the other side of it, pushing back against them and the notion of this great racial divide in this country.  Not ever really taking the time to sit back and think about what they went through, really thing about how things were forty and fifty years ago even.  

I have been lucky enough to only have been made to feel less than because the color of my skin just a few times in my life, but what about those who dealt with it constantly growing up?  In watching 12 years a Slave and even the movie Django Unchained from last year there was one phrase that came up in both movies and to be honest with you it has haunted my thoughts for the last couple of days.  In both movies the term is brought up about being or not being "An Exceptional Nigger."  

It's weird but every since Friday I hear that term ringing in my head.  "An Exceptional Nigger",  In the movies this is suppose to be a compliment.  Meaning that this is a black person that might be able to read or write or put together complex ideas or be more useful than just a body out to pick the cotton or work the fields.  It was their way of saying even though you are less than human, you are almost to the point of being human. Am I that "exceptional nigger"?  Is that what is thought of me?

And the thing that I guess that has been hard for me is that I feel as though I hear that term today, without really hearing it.   I feel as though I hear it in the way that people talk about race in this country especially when all of the Trayvon Martin stuff was going on, and I feel that I hear it in the tone or the way that people talk about the President of the United States.  I feel that even though we have come so far as a nation there is still so far we have left to go.  

This is all pretty heavy stuff, and I guess this is a hell of a way to ring in my 100th post.  But I feel as though if I don't talk about these sort of things and make known my opinions on it that it will just eat me alive.  I believe that 12 Years a Slave is a very important movie.  And I think that it is very well done.  And I also think that it shows the endurance and the will to survive that every human has within themselves.  I don't know if any of this made since or if it was even really worth reading.  but I guess I do feel better knowing that I have written it, so in that way I am glad.  See you again soon.

Personal

So, by the time most of you read this it will be mid morning, but right now while the juices are flowing in my head and I'm ready to put pen to pad so to speak it is almost 2am.  I have just recently come from my good friend Cooper's apartment and I am just in the mood to write.  It's funny how a lot of the time that seems to coincide with me writing.  I always feel so pumped up when I leave from his place, because most of the time we enter into so sort of creative discussion and tonight was no different.  

Anyway I was down in the subway coming home, and I happen to talk to a beautiful woman.  Well she asked me if there was another train coming and one thing led to another and we were in a conversation about acting and writing and movies.  For me it was just one of those truly great and romantic moments in time.  For here I'm sure it was just the over talkative black guy in the subway trying to be charming.

Either way it goes when I got on the train I opened up my little writing journal that I keep on me just in case of situations like this and I read a passage that I had written just a few weeks ago.  You see I had just watched the movie On The Road, which is based off of one of my favorite books by Jack Kerouac.  While I was watching the movie I just thought about this romantic type of love that just burns you up inside and that most of the time ends very badly but it leaves you with all of this stuff that you never can quite get rid of.  And while I was thinking out that I wrote this.

Remaining thoughts of a Love Affair

by Brandon Ponder

You haunt my dreams, and relish in my nightmares.  I thought I had you out of my system, flushed down the drain like the remnants of last nights binge session.  But like the hangover that sneaks up on you I'm left with the throbbing headache.  I must be sick, sick in love with the notion of you, but unlike the notion the person is not actually true.

How can the person that meant so much to me for so long feel like nothing more than a ghost haunting my memories.  Love sick or am I just sick of love.  Fuck love, but I love to FUCK!  I gotta do something to pop this thing out of neutral because I'm so tired of being stuck.  My love for you has gone from sweet, to bittersweet, to the bitter taste of a bit lip after being punched in the face.  

I know we keep doing this to ourselves, but much like a house filled with laundry the cycle seems to be wash, rinse, and repeat.  It's painful loving you and even more so knowing you.  There use to be a time when the sound of your name rolling off of my tongue was my favorite word and it had this certain ring.  But these days it's become one of these ignominious things.  It's become my second least favorite words right after the word  Nigger but just before Failure.

I want so badly to be able to wish you well, but if I'm being completely honest here well wishes and soft kisses are the furthest that come to mind when I think of you.  A tortured soul I feel I'll always be especially when it comes to thoughts of you and me.  I know that one day I'll wake up and the only memory of you will be from a life long since forget only brought back by the tiniest corners of the nostalgia of my mind.  Once upon a time I was in love with you.  Why was it never enough?

For some reason this song reminds me of the greatest love affair.

This song has become my new obsession.  Thank you Secret Life of Walter Mitty movie Trailer.

Stardust Memories

I am a simple but also complicated man.  I don't have much and what I do have I like to share with those that I love.  I have a feeling that when I die there won't be too many people that throw up a fuss for me, and that is completely alright with me.  And what I leave behind, this blog, and the little things that I have written, maybe somebody will read and get something from them.  Which would be alright with me.

I've been thinking a lot about people lately.  My friends and family back home.  The friends that I've made out here on this journey.  The people that I continue to meet in this crazy industry.  And the people that are gone to me.  

The latter is what I really and truly want to write about tonight, or I guess today by the time you all read this, if any of you do read this.  It has just recently accorded to me that the longer I go on living, the more time passes since the death of some of my loved ones, and the further away from them I seem to be.  

I keep thinking to myself how do I hold on for a little longer, how can I keep them around for just a bit longer.  It makes me very sad sometimes because these people that seem to be slipping away from my I loved very much.  I know it sound corny or whatever but I wanted to write this post for them.  I wanted it to be let out in the world so that there memories won't just live on through me but through the people that read this.  

I think I read somewhere that you aren't truly dead and gone until the last person that knows or knew you is dead.  That is an interesting thought that always sticks with me.  I know that I will surely die someday, there is no doubt about that, but it would be nice if maybe just maybe I live on through the kind words of others and others others that knew me.

I want to tell just a few tidbits of certain people that are gone from me.  Some of the finest women that I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.  I don't know why tonight was the night that this all came up, but I'm happy that I'm writing this and that you out there are reading this. 

You see it's easy for me to picture all those around me that I love that are still breathing and functioning in the world.  I can talk about my friend Cody's isms and how being a coach is just perfect, I love listening to him talk about his interactions with his kids so much I wish I could get a job doing that all day.  Or my friend Jamie, who can be the most terrifying person in the world when she is angry.  To the point were whenever it happens I immediately slick off into the darkness.  But that terrifying angry she gets is like the greatest thing ever because if you are one of her people then that scorched earth anger that she unloads on whoever wronged you feels so damn good.

I could go on and on for pages at a time but that's not what this is for, this is for those that are on my mind but I am unable to see anymore.  Like my grandmother.  Christina Ponder was without a doubt the meanest woman I've ever known.  The funny thing is she was the kind of mean I didn't even know, because she just loved me so very much.  Now that I'm an adult I look back and just think wow, you did not want to make my grandmother mad.  But then when I think of her I just see her smiling so big at me and telling me to come over and give her a kiss.  It was just the best.

The next woman I want to talk about it my Aunt Ann Tipton.  I've heard this saying before, "that life is for the living."  Let me tell you all that life was for Ann Tipton, because damn did she know how to live.  I miss arguing with her.  I was from the youngest generation in my family that thought they were so very smart and got away with more than anyone else.  So I would argue with her about things and I know my sister and even my mother where kind of shock by how bold I was talking to my aunt like I was an adult or something.  But the thing is she would let me.  She let me be bold with her, and then she would knock my argument down like it was nothing and make me feel like the kid that I was.  She loved having the family together.  She's the reason I love and value my close family and friends.

Lastly I want to talk about my Aunt Margaret Lee.  My Aunt Margaret loved me, and when I say that I mean she loved me, I was her favorite nephew.  That might sound braggy but it's true.  Even know as I write this I can't help but have a big smile on my face.  There is something about being somebody's favorite, you'll always have a connection to them.  She use to always tell me this story that makes me feel especially connected to her.  When my mom was pregnant with me everybody thought I was a girl, or rather they wanted me to be a girl.  But not my Aunt Margaret, she knew I was going to be a boy.  I will always miss staying the night at her place, and waking up to breakfast, and her always teasing me about how I like "hard" eggs.  She made her scrambled eggs runnier than I liked so she always made a special batch for me.

I know that these people will never be gone entirely because they will always be in my heart, but sometimes I start to feel them a little less and I just really hate that.  I hate to think that there might be a time that I don't feel them at all.  I just hope that by putting this out there in the world they will never be dead, not to this world.

Important Docs

Well I think it has been a while since I posted anything which has kind of made me sad, because I felt like I was on quite a roll of inspiration and due to unforeseen circumstances my inspiration had kind of dried up.  

I always knew there was going to be this hard time out here.  I always knew there was going to be a point of this journey where I feel as though I've kind of hit rock bottom.  And in knowing that and planning for that it still feels as though it has kind of hit me harder than I expected.  And to be honest with all of you I don't think that I have really hit rock bottom.

I don't know what it is.  Maybe it's the fact that I know the season is changing into fall back home, but out here there seems to be absolutely no change, besides what it on television.  Maybe it's the fact that in my early adult life fall really has become my favorite of seasons with tailgating for college football, fantasy football with the fellas, and the way the trees begin to change colors right before your eyes.  

The thing is that being out here all of those things seem to be nothing more than a distant memory.  And those pictures that are hanging up on my walls and on my dresser seem to be getting farther and farther away.  I obviously know that's not true, and to be honest I always go through a slight low point this time of the year but it has just hit me a little harder this year.  

I feel so close to everything that I've ever wanted and yet at the same time it all seems to be thousands of miles away.  Is this the duality of man? The feeling of everything happening all at once right along side with complete isolation.  

I know I'm must sound like a person who has completely lost the plot so to speak.  I wish I could say that it was the first time I sound or felt like this.  There was a funny thing that happened to me an hour ago.  I was looking through some paperwork to get for my boss that just got me a gig a few days ago and I stumble upon an envelope that said important docs.  

I had forgotten what was in the envelope because, well because I forget things a lot.(can't wait for that early onset dementia diagnoses)  And when I emptied out the envelope there was my passport that I had just spent all of he last thirty minutes looking for. (On a side note, if you want to talk about a terrible picture that makes me look like a person that kidnaps little kids, that would be my passport photo) But what I found along side of my passport is why I'm writing this.

Among my important docs were my passport, my social security card, photo booth pictures of me and my closets friends from my best friends wedding, and a NBA finals home game 1 ticket to the 2012 NBA Playoffs.  It is quite funny and on other levels quite pathetic that these are the things that I hold of most importance to me right now as a almost 29 year old male.  I feel as though that I am a really stunted individual at this point in my life.

But then there is this other side of me that finds it incredibly interesting to think about what will be in my important docs envelope 5 years from now, and also what would have been in my important docs envelope 5 years ago.  I guess just a little food for thought.  Anyway, I don't know if any of that made since to anyone but me, I guess I'm glad I'm back in the saddle again writing the weirdest thoughts in the world out for all 5 of you out there to read.  


If you haven't had a chance to go see this movie you should.  It speaks volumes to my generation.

The Me I Am, and The Me I Wanted to Be

Let me preface this whole thought, or statement that you are about to read by saying this plan and simple.  I know that I have lived and am living a charmed life.  My parents have always bent over backwards two times to make sure I had everything that I ever needed.  And even though I am the world biggest nerd and klutz and just awkward person in general most of the time I was blessed with this ability to find my groove and I have always been able to find and keep amazing friends.

So know that I have thrown that all out there I feel that it is safe to say that being me has not come without consequences, and sometimes all I can say is that it just downright sucks.  And really yesterday seemed to be the culmination of a life spent being ME.  

I don't want this to be a long story so really I'm going to try to only hit the highlights, but lets face it once I get going I can be a tad long winded.  So yesterday I woke up on the right side of the bed.  The air smelt sweeter, I felt totally refreshed, and I started the morning off with a great movie by the name of LOOPER. (If you haven't seen this movie, shame on you, and go see as soon as possible) Then I get a phone call from a friend of mine Cooper Hagedorn and the rest as they say is history.  And by HIStory I mean MYstory that you are about to here right now.

So Cooper has a friend that is shooting a rap video and he needs some PA help for the day, and I thought it would be a great opportunity to meet some people and to just stay busy and keep myself motivated.  So I get to set out in Santa Monica and everything is great.  All the people on set are awesome and I just love it.  This is the world that I love.  I love being on a set, I love helping to create something that is special.  Even if it's not special to me, I know that it's special to somebody and I get to be a part of it.

So the hours a rolling by and everything is going great. We are getting the set ready to shoot, and we even set up for the shots we were going to do later that night.  We Blacked out all the windows in the house so that we could start with some early shots, and everything was going to plan except for one thing.  A piece of the paper that we had used o place out the kitchen window was falling down and basically I was the only one tall enough to put it back up.

And this is when I basically "Brundoned" the situation as Cory Williamson would say. (Brundon is the alternate version of myself that is basically super lame, and pretty dorky, according to Cory) Sorry for all the filler.  So I go outside and attempt to put the paper back up.  Now there is a wooden stool out there for me to stand on, but to be honest I'm not to comfortable with it because it seems to be a little unsteady.  So I go around the house looking for something better to stand on, but low and behold I cannot find a thing. 

So of course against my better judgement I begin to test out the stool.  And after extensive and scientific tests for about a minute and a half I made an assessment that it was safe to climb the stool and put the paper back up.  There are mistakes that you make in life and then there are mistakes.  I would say that this was the former and the latter.

Now I'm up on the stool trying to keep my balance and trying to put the paper up at the same time.  And as I reach to put it up, and as I just about had it I hear a subtle cracking.  Yes it was the stool breaking right underneath me.  So I of course do what any person in my situation would do, I instantly panic and decided to jump from he stool.  But as I am what I would call jumping backwards my foot gets caught sending me tumbling down somewhat and as I try to catch myself I hear my shorts tearing right at the crouch.  

In my head I all I can think is of course this would happen to me, and that thought was instantly erased by the feeling of me hitting the ground.  And as I lay there dirty, defeated, and shorts split right up the crotch all I could think was that I...am...not...Cary Grant.  Now that is not really what I was thinking but I think you get the point, and really I'll speak more on that in a second.

I pick myself up, dust myself off, and look down and my shorts to check the damage.  And they are really bad.  Like really, really bad.  And just then a girl that is working on production comes outside to see me hunched over holding my crotch and she asks me what is wrong.  I do my best to play it off but I eventually give in and tell her I have split my pants up the crotch.  And she's great about it telling me we can us gaffer tape and fix it right up.  And I think to myself well maybe this will work out after all.

Now upon her suggestion I go into the bathroom and take off my shorts and give them to here to try and patch up.  And as I stand in a perfect strangers bathroom that I had just met in my underwear I looked into the mirror and thought to myself... I...am...not...Sidney Poitier.  She does the best with what she has and I'm back to work with shorts that have been taped up and I'm doing my best to make a joke out of the whole situation with people that I had just met.  And to be honest I'm doing a great job at it because lets face it this is not the first time something like this has happened to me.

Everything is fine now and I'm trying my best to just push through it and be about the work and not about the fact that my pants just split open and the tape job that was just performed is not holding up.  And it is at this point that I find myself holding my crouch, but I'm doing the work and I am determined to push through it.  It is at this very moment, that the director of the video and the girl that helped with the tape just come outside with a worried look on their faces and tell me I should probably go home and get a change of shorts.

And this is the moment when the self deprecating doubt sets in.  And I think these poor people that I met must be freaked out by the guy that his been flashing them for about an hour.  At this point I don't want to drive home to get shorts because home is about an hour away, so I decided to find a target in an area that I don't know at about 4:45.  What a mistake.  So after about 25 minutes of being flustered in traffic trying to find a place to by shorts I just say fuck it, I'll go home and grab a pair.

Now I'm on the 405 freeway at about 5:15 trying to make it home in standstill traffic.  So let the meltdown begin.  And that is exactly what I did, I had a complete meltdown on the 405 and I'm sure that some people driving home after a hard days work got quite a show from me.  So an hour and a half later I make it back to my place and I just decide I am done with this day.

My buddy Cooper talks me into going out for a drink and I do and it was such a good time, but while I was out with him I talked to him about this very concept that I shall now talk to all of you about.  I know exactly the me that I am.  I've always been that me for my entire life and I have learn to make it a strength rather than a weakness.  But why can't sometimes or really just for once I be the me that I always wanted to be.  Why can't I be the Cary Grant, Sidney Poitier, Humphrey Bogart, or the Han Solo.   Why can't I just be the cool and classic and debonair person for once.  

Don't get me wrong, I don't mind being me.  It builds character being the person the falls out of chairs at a cookout or being the guy that falls off the stool and splits his pants up the crouch, but you know sometimes I'd just like to be that other guy.  Is that really too much to ask for.  So yesterday was a bad day, but that's okay because the bad ones make you more thankful for the good ones.  I hope you all enjoyed it, just another day in the life of Brandon Ponder.

Enjoy this clip, if you haven't already.

An Evening with John Williams.......And Cooper Too.

Have you ever had a day in your life that after it was over you thought to yourself how could anything have mattered before this day.  I remember having a feeling when I played baseball that I was the luckiest person in the world to get to go out and play a game that I loved everyday.  I know the feeling when I sit down in the movie theater is something like a spiritual cleansing that makes everything in the world make sense.  But just last Saturday I had a feeling that was something that I hadn't quite felt before.

This entire year I have listened to people talk and read on Facebook about all kinds of concerts and just how great they were or how great they are going to be.  The Beyonce concert, Bruno Mars, Jason Boland, and how no one can wait until Mumford and Sons comes into town.  And let me just say that I believe that all those concerts were great, and the performances were probably fantastic.  But last Saturday I went to a concert and it was more than anything I could ever imagine.  It was transcendent.  I got the pleasure of going to see the great John Williams and the L.A. Philharmonic play with none other than Mr. Cooper Hagedorn.

Some of you may not know who that is so let me enlighten you.  He is probably the greatest living film composer, and for that matter just the greatest film composer period.  With such films as Jaws,Star Wars, Indiana Jones, E.T., Superman, Hook, War Horse, Lincoln, and so many more.  To say the man is a musical genius is just an understatement.  And I got to sit in a stadium with thousands of people and watch and listen to him preform.  When I die and I'm up in heaven kicking it with Jesus talking about the many mysteries of life, like how he did it with boobs and just how great they are, I know that I will be listening the the many wonderful scores of John Williams.  

Now that I'm thinking back on it all the day feels kind of like a blur from the cook out, to the pool party, and then the concert. It was such an amazing day all around and I was just the perfect amount of drunk by the time we got to the concert and it will be a memory that I hold in my heart for as long as I am alive. 

In the first half of the show he played the score from The Pink Panther.  I know that you all know that tune and when it started up tears streamed down my face, because I was instantly transformed back to my childhood sitting in the living room on a boring Sunday playing with my Ninja Turtles on the floor while my dad cracks up laughing watching The Pink Panther on A&E.  And that is exactly what the night became.  Me being transported back in time to all these beautiful moments that I had just assumed were gone forever.  And I realize now that those moments will never be lost.  I know that I will eventually get older, or at least I hope that's the case.  And as bad as my memory is now I'm sure I'll have some sort of dementia or worse, but I know I'll never lose those memories.  Not as long as I can turn on some John Williams.

In the second half of the concert he played selections from Indiana Jones and of course Star Wars, and what do you know I was in tears again.  Transported back in time once more to when I was a kid and the hero inside of me was alive and well.  And I'd run around the house and the yard pretending I was a Jedi.  Knowing in my young heart of hearts that I was going to save the world someday, because of course the world needed saving and I would be just the man for that job when I got older.

It's a funny thing remembering that young boy who wanted to save the world and then waking up everyday and looking in the mirror at the man who is just trying his best to exist in it.  Well not anymore.  I don't think I'll ever be the same after listening to that concert Saturday night and thank god for that.  I think it's time for me to be the man that wants to save the world instead of just existing in it.  I think I owe that boy that much.  I also owe one Cooper Hagedorn, and not for inviting me to the concert, but for being the person sitting next to me in the stands yelling out, "DO IT JOHN, PLAY E.T.!"  And what would you know he did just that.  

I'll never forget the night I sat and listened to John Williams and the L.A. Philharmonic.  It was a perfect moment in time for me. I don't know how many more of those moments I'll get in life, but I do know that I will take them as they come and be damn thankful for every single one of them.

The Importance of Last Words

So I've basically had this one locked and loaded for quite a while now but I just couldn't get myself to write it and for some reason I woke up today and thought to myself this is something that I need to say.  So let me tell you from the start that this is probably about to get heavy, so this is your official warning right now to stop reading if you can't handle the personal thoughts of a somewhat mad man. (But seriously I need more people reading this so you should totally read the whole thing.)

So the following is something that I really haven't told very many people, if any really.  These could quite be some of the most personal thoughts that you read on this blog.  It all started a couple of months ago.  I was watching one of my favorite shows, and one of my favorite story arcs on said show.  The show is How I Met Your Mother  and the story arc is when Marshall's dad dies.  There is an episode when they all go to the funeral and they are talking about last words.  As in the last words you'll ever hear or talk to someone you love.

This episode always strikes a nerve with me, but mostly that is because I am a bit of a sap.  And by sap I mean to say that, I cry a lot.  But something really started to stir up in me.  Maybe it is because I'm so many miles away from home or maybe it is because I am finally doing something in my life that I feel matters but something that I have sort of hid down deep came up in me and I began to cry uncontrollably.  I'm talking little boy in his room that was just told he couldn't go to the arcade crying uncontrollably.  

The crazy thing is I really didn't know why.  I mean I had seen this episode a number of times and while it always makes me cry a bit, it is nothing like this. I had to really examine my feelings and when I stopped and really started to think about everything. And the truth is that every time, every single time I watch this episode or this story arc it makes me think of my grandfather.

Now the thing about my grandfather you have to realize is, that he is the single greatest person I've ever met in my life.  I know that sounds a little bias but I assure you that this is not the case.  Ask anybody who knew him or ever met him and I'll guarantee you they will say the same.  A couple of years ago my mom told me a story about me and him.  How my grandfather who was always suppose to be on some special kind of diet would always get in trouble with my grandmother because he always had a secret stash of Oreos or Peanut M&Ms for me and him, and when he would get caught he would always explain that he bought them because of how much I liked them.  I don't remember any of this of course because I was just a little kid and I just don't have the best of memories when it comes to anything really, but the funny thing about it all is that Oreos and Peanut M&Ms are pretty much my two favorite sweet treats to this day.

But that is not why I'm writing this.  Not to tell you a hokey story about me and my grandfather (which is pretty much the cutest thing ever if you ask me).  No the real reason I'm writing this is because there is a story that I don't think to many people know and I wanted to tell it to emphasize the over all importance of last words.  

So at a very weird and emotionally charged time in my life.  The end of what I thought would be this great baseball career, my struggle with college, and the overall feeling of uncertainty in my life.  Right at this very point my grandfather died.  Now my grandfather was a spectacular man and he lived the best and fullest life that any man can live.  He served in the military, he raised a family, and he was married to the love of his life for over 60 years if I'm not mistaken.  He was a man that truly left this earth a better place than it was before he got here, which in my opinion is the single greatest thing any person can do on this earth.  And when he was gone I remember being very sad, and I cried a lot when I found out.

Now the crazy thing about it all is at least for me it was to be expected.  I mean my grandfather had already had multiple heart surgeries and almost exactly a month before he passed away my grandmother had passed.  I was sad because I couldn't remember the last conversation that me and him had.  I've thought about it so much since he's passed driving myself crazy over the fact, and to tell you the truth I've hated myself for quite sometime because of it.  Now I know that it wasn't a fight or anything because that was never what my grandfather and my relationship was about.  Our relationship was about him talking to me telling me this fantastic stories or teaching me things about life without really trying to teach me.  So I'm sure at the end of our last conversation I hugged him and told him I loved him and he told me he loved me like he always did, but I just couldn't remember it.

And the funny thing is that right before he died I had plan to go into the city and talk to him.  My faith had been challenge for sometime at that moment in my life, but I had this need to get back what I had lost and I knew that he was the person to do it. I knew that he would have or know the things to say to get me to where I needed to go.  And for whatever god awful and stupid ass reason I didn't make time to go see him.  I was too busy doing whatever dumb fucking thing I'm sure I always did to drive into the city and talk to my grandfather about my faith.  And then it was too late and I never will get that chance.  There are a million things in life to regret, things left unsaid, chances you didn't take, opportunities that you missed out on.  But let me just tell you out of all the things that have happened to me in life, that is the thing that I regret the most.  And it has taken me some time to get past the regret of it all.

I know that my grandfather was proud of me and that he loved me. And I know that he is looking down on me right now with all the patience in the world that only he has or had.  So that really not the point.  The point is that last words matter, they just do.  And it matters that to me at least that I can't remember the last words I said to my grandfather or that he said to me.  And it really kind of sucks because I have so many wonderful memories of the two of us, even the memories that I can't really remember.  So if any of you are out there still reading this and have listened to me go on and on let me just say again that last words are important.  And really and truly you don't know when it'll be the last time you talk to someone.  Because things in life change in an instant.  So my advice to you is to always tell the ones that are close to you that you love them, even when you are mad at them, even when you can't stand them.  Because we just never truly know when the words we say will be our last.

For my grandfather: Miss you ever day, and I hope I'm just like you when I eventually grow up.