Dear Friends of the Academy of Performing Arts and Fitness,

The students of the Academy are flourishing in their spaces. The melodious saxophone coupled with the percussion provided by the sound of weights dropping (detonating TNT?) in the basement, make me happy. Special thanks to the family that donated the boxing equipment so now all conflicts are settled in the sacred squared-off circle of sweat- you know like the arena that TR talked about. And no, the circle that Wally has reserved for an occasional excuse me pee is not the same. But back to Teddy… Theodore really nailed it with that one. More inspirational than TB12’s version of Man in the Arena- in my humble opinion.

After all, even Wally knows “the credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, and whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood”…look it up kids. Good stuff. Read it. You have to get after it. It’s been on my vision board since I read it as a history lovin’ hungry college student eager to get into any arena. It is certainly not the critic who counts…the credit – oh here I go again. I think if you are mulling your future…where do I go, what should I do, what is my purpose? You can’t go wrong by rolling up your sleeves, getting into the arena of what you love doing…and get after it. And remember to never judge. That is not your role. Ever. Unless someone is handing you a gavel and a bailiff.

Wally and I can live, love, laugh and write knowing the Real Boss will do all the real work and any judging that is necessary around here. Of course she will say, “What else is new?”… but the real question is What else is happening? Here you go.

I was lying on a table with one eye open. I could feel lots of poking and prodding in my eye. I could barely move a muscle. Soft voices swirled around the serene scene in front of me. It was a perfect metaphor for my life. I was completely calm in the middle of someone scarily, but skillfully and forever(ly) altering my physical being. But this time, I just knew the frightening scalpel or scythe or scissors were going to usher in a new sense of…

Vision. Don’t take it for granted. This was a process. Clearly the vessel I was given for my purpose in life needs tender loving care. And now that the vessel has some new attachments- it’s surely going to function better right? Oh yea! Beyond amazing… Do you remember learning how to read and you would read every thing that had letters on it when you were driving? When the Real Boss and I were driving into Boston for my surgery follow-up I was immediately transported to the backseat of my parent’s car cruising down Erie Boulevard, 690, or just Franklin Park Drive and reading off every letter I could see. To continue my habit of making a short story long, I can only tell you that when I arose from the table- I felt like Superman. Or as gifted as my brother-in-law who can spot a spot on a dot on a cot in a pot a mile away.

Was that a tinge of guilt I felt when I realized how much they were letting me see? Yikes – do those people know I am looking at them? Can the nurses over there see me seeing them see this? CAN THEY ALLL SEE WHAT I SEE? IF you can see what I see, then why do you have that look on your face? Oh…it’s a smile. Ok.

So that went well. I see better. I can almost lift my arms to the sky in gratitude. But we will have to work on my balky left wing another time. That’s next. Not now. Now is vacation. Now is relax and savor the Academy’s sense of purpose, a sense of some responsibility and ensure the students find a way to anchor their basketball hoop to the ground so it does not become a menace to the neighborhood.

Apparently, the wind likes to lift unsecured items into the air and move them to an inch of a neighbor’s window. I live by the Grace of God so the window was spared and the neighbor kindly rolled the pole off his bushes and back onto my lot. I remember when Jerome Lane dunked a basketball and smashed the backboard. Send it home Jerome! That was on TV, and appeared cool. I imagine that would have been the sound if that backboard had found it’s wayward way into Mr. Wilson’s Waterford crystal. But alas, I digress, it didn’t happen- and you asked what happened? So forget it. Not a big deal.

Doesn’t March come in like a lion and leave like a lamb? Or is that February? Does it even make sense anymore with global warming to compare farm animals to months of the year? All that is left to say as February flies by down here by the river, as long as we keep the small animals and children’s toys tied down…there should be no rocks thrown…from our glass house anyway. The final lesson: When searching for your goal, don’t leave it unattended and unsecured on the side yard of life only to blow into your neighbor’s tea.

That’s all I got for today. Be good. Thanks for coming!