Derek Jeter: My Twin, Sort Of…

Derek Jeter on big board at Yankee StadiumIt’s the day after in my part of the world. The day after what you may be wondering?Well, baseball’s regular season ended yesterday. The end marks another disappointing season for the locals, AKA the Yankees. Yankee fans (Mrs. MMK among them) are not used to the season ending in September as they have been spoiled by long reigns of success.However, this year’s disappointing season hurts even more as it corresponds with the final season of Derek Jeter. To say Derek Jeter is loved around here is an understatement along the lines of, “Those ISIS folks are not good people.”

Jeter’s impending departure has been resonating for the whole season but has ramped up the past week.  He was talked about and or interviewed in seemingly every newspaper, television channel, and radio station ad nausea.

It seems everyone has a Derek Jeter story. Well, here is mine.

You see Derek Jeter and I share something. But first, let me tell you some of our differences so you don’t confuse us.

Unlike Derek Jeter, I am not chick magnet who has dated Hollywood starlets, pop stars, or beauty pageant winners. But, my wife kind of likes me though.

Unlike Derek Jeter, I have not earned millions and millions of dollars. However, I am able to pay the mortgage, and I eat pretty well.

Unlike Derek Jeter, I don’t have millions of fans who applaud my every move. Yet, I did once have a blog post go on Huffington Post that got six hundred likes on Facebook.

Unlike Derek Jeter, I was not part of a team that won Five World Series Championships. But I did form a team – along with my co-manager, Ms. MMK, – and BR and SJ are signed to long term contracts.

So, what the heck do Derek Jeter and I have in common?

Well, we both came to the New York area in 1995. Derek Jeter of course came up through the Yankees farm system before debuting in May of 1995. He was sent down to the minors later in the season but did finish the season with the Yankees.

I arrived in New York in August of 1995.  I landed in downtown Brooklyn. That fall I was enrolled in the master’s program at the Long Island University, Brooklyn.

While I was excited and elated at the prospect of living in New York, I was intimidated. I didn’t know anyone either in the master’s program or in the city. You would think the odds of meeting one person in a city of 8.5 million would be high.  But it wasn’t easy. In fact, there were times when I felt lonely. Just like Derek Jeter who noted that he was overmatched when he came out of High School and started in the minors. He says he called his parents often and even thought about coming home (and leaving baseball).  In fact, he even cried.

On the first Sunday of my residency in New York, I went to Central Park. Backpack, bagel, and book in hand, I meandered around Vaux and Olmstead’s creation and stared at everything. People who saw me probably wrote me off as a goofy tourist from some hick town. And in some ways, maybe I was.  Anyway, the beauty, diversity, and cool energy of Central Park made me love Central Park from that very first Sunday.

In Derek Jeter’s first full season – 1996 – he won the American League rookie of the year award, and was one of the leaders of the Yankees World Series winning team. He also was already a darling to Yankees fans and respected by his teammates.

By 1996, I had wandered around many parts of New York City, learned the subway system and was no longer intimidated by its vastness. I had made a number of friends, many of whom I am still in touch with today. My grades were excellent, and I felt myself gaining confidence in my writing.

Fast forward to today and Derek Jeter has said goodbye to New York and Yankees fans. He made an indelible mark and will be forever loved in this part of the world. I, however, will continue the journey – from across the river in the New Jersey suburbs.

Thanks for pointing the way Derek.

I’ve got it from here.

 

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Happy Birthday Bruce, The Future of Rock and Roll

Bruce Springsteen

Bruce Springsteen in concert.

I remember the day rock and roll began for me. It was on a Thursday night in August of 1985. Bruce Springsteen and the East Street Band were in the midst of the Born in the USA tour.  I was part of the 50,000 plus fans who sang along to each song and listened raptly as Bruce went into one of his stories.

For those of you who are unfamiliar, Bruce is a story teller, and it doesn’t end with the songs. Periodically, he’ll tell a story with some musical accompaniment playing softly in the background that will lead into the next song.

One such story he told that warm August night has remained with me, and it’s particularly pertinent today. You see our rock n roll hero was telling us how old he was and that he was losing it.  We were not having it and let Bruce know we disagreed with his assessment. However, he longed for his ‘Glory Days,’ and that’s just what he gave us.

You know how old Bruce was? He was 35, soon to be 36. And now he is 65.

Bruce Springsteen, my rock n roll hero is 65 freaken years old. This is the man who Jon Landau, then an influential music critic, saw in May of 1974 in Boston.  In his review, Landau said, “I saw rock and roll’s future and its name is Bruce Springsteen.”

That guy – rock and roll’s future – is 65 freaken years old.  Isn’t rock and roll youth and rebellion? Now Bruce may have been born to run but now is closer to moving to Florida, eating dinner at 4 p.m., and needing a comb over.

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The Return of Father’s Day

Childern for Father's Day

BR& SJ – my reason to celebrate Father’s Day.

Father’s Day is coming, and I am looking forward to it. That was not always the case. In fact, I ignored Father’s Day for over six years.

My father died in 1997. He had been going back and forth to doctors for a few months. They couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him, so he continued to work. That’s what he knew, and that was his way.

He was readying to go work on a Saturday. He had some things he wanted to take care of at the office. He probably would have ended up doing more puttering than anything else. Anyway, he received a call instructing him to go to the hospital. So, he did.

Our family still was not informed of the seriousness of his condition. On Tuesday afternoon, the day after his 65th birthday, I received a phone call. Things had become bleak. I rushed in to Philadelphia from New York. I didn’t get to see my father till it was too late. That still upsets me to this day. I think it always will.

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Minecraft has Saved My Children

Boys playing Minecraft on Kindle

BR & SJ side by side on their Kindle playing Minecraft.

The Captain and Tenille sang, “Love will keep us Together.” Now, love may have kept the Captain and Tenille together (actually, they recently announced they are divorcing), but something else was needed in my household.

The answer here in the MMK household is Minecraft. Yep, Minecraft is what is keeping my boys together. No joke, snide remark, or clever retort. I am thankful to those Swedish invertors for their best invention ever. Yeah, they can keep the Saab.

This past weekend SJ was screaming at the top of his lungs, “I hate my brother.” BR was laughing at SJ’s outburst. He could not care less.

My wife and I cringed.

I wish I could say it was the first time this ugliness has sprouted. It’s not. And it never gets easier to hear.

My wife and I have talked to the boys many times about how they need to be there for each other. They should be happy to spend time other. They should have each other’s back. Yes, my wife and I are like every other set of parents – we want our children to be friends.

Yet when the boys act like this, my wife and I are happy to have them apart. We try to remember that sibling rivalry is not unique at this age. We hope that they will grow out of it.

By the next morning, détente had occurred. Life had returned to our village, and all was good. And the reason for this peace was Minecraft. Plain and simple. The boys were side by side playing Minecraft on their Kindles. And they were talking. Here are some samples of the conversation that passed between my boys.

The zombie is chasing you. I have to kill it.
I don’t want your gold. I gave it to you as a gift.
Thanks for the dirt.
Fine, you can take the raw chicken.
I’ll build us a house. I need more clay.

Now, that might sound weird to you (well, that is unless your child is one of the millions that is also addicted to Minecraft). However, to me these are words of love. In fact, I hear those words we love each other, we will always be friends, we will take care of our parents when they get old.

Whoops! How did that last line get in there?

I know, I know some might say that this is a false peace. It’s dependent on a video game being played on a Kindle. I beg to differ. Sure they are not talking about feelings and offering up support. They are not encouraging and dreaming together.

However, my boys are playing together. They are enjoying spending time together. They choose to play Minecraft Survival mode (I had to ask multiple times till I remembered that) which involves both of them.  They are happy in each other’s company.

For that, I am ecstatic.

Minecraft has brought my boys together.

Boys focused on kindle Minecraft

Boys focused on their Kindles and on Minecraft