Monday Bacon: Lessons From Dean

Posted on January 25, 2016 by tosabarbell
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Dean and Sam

About a week and a half ago, I was up around 4:30am to get ready to head out to Orlando for the first Highland Games of the season. The morning was tense and made tenser (totally a word) by the fact that I decided to clean up the kitchen and floors before I left. Suddenly, my “let’s leave at 5:45 to get to the airport around 6 or so for my 7am flight” plan went straight down the shitter. We left the house around 6am and even for me (I hate hanging around airports for hour(s) before flights), it was getting a little tight.

Thankfully I had my coffee for the ride (another reason why I was running late) and as I was taking my first sip in the car, Matt softly says to me, ‘I know you didn’t see this yet but Dean Bennett died last night.’ We were at the stop sign, me drinking coffee, late for the airport, and BOOM! The floor just dropped out.

Now, I will be the first to admit that Matt and I didn’t know Dean as close as others. I don’t know what his favorite color was; I don’t know where he and his wife, Mary, met. We ran around with some of the same people but often not at the same time. What I DID know about Dean was that he was someone who had a complete handle on those around him. Which, of course, attracted you to him. He was always interested in what’s happening with YOU but at the same time happily discussed what was happening to him.

He never forgot a conversation and would be one of the first to celebrate with you or tell you you’ll get ’em next time when struggling at an event. He had so many interests, I wonder if he just assumed that he had 36 hours in a day compared to the rest of us that are able to squander away 24.

Dean loved the strength world. His T-shirt line, Atomic Barbell, was a way for him to be involved with the STRONG of the world and he relished in it. He would pack up his “Atomic Cadillac” (Cadillac’s were another interest of his. I had taken a picture of a Cadillac carrying a newlywed couple in Iceland and told him it made me think of him. He was so excited you’d have thought I’d just handed him a million dollars. But that was Dean, so happy to be thought of) and road trip all over to sell his shirts and give support and help where needed at events.

We always knew which sports season his now 16 year old son was in by the photographs and scores updates on the Facebook. He was so proud of Colin. We always knew how in love with his “bride”, Mary, he was by his many posts giving thanks for her and singing her praises. There was not one ounce of insincerity in his body and to be around such a good person is a gift. To hear that he no longer walks the earth was something that took some time to fully comprehend. When I got to the airport and had a spare moment, I looked on the FB for some sign that this was a weird joke.

Nope. Dean was gone.

This past Friday was the funeral. Now, in general, funerals are sad. They’re kind of supposed to be. If, when I go, there is a funeral and no one is sad I’m going to be super pissed. There are the stories that make you laugh. The memories that make you wish for one more conversation; one more hug; one more chance to let the person know that it was important to you that they touched your life. People speak, with humor, of the person’s shortcomings (Dean could talk, and talk, and talk. Once, at a surprise party for our friend Sam, Dean started talking about one of his favorite events, (Relentless Powerlifting Meet) and after about 20 minutes I bailed to the bar. I think Matt sat and listened for at least 45 minutes and they both finally got up and started to mingle. But that was Dean, he was a talker and loved to share his passion. While I wouldn’t see this as a shortcoming, it was joked about.

Hearing Dean’s close friends and family share their love and heartbreak with the rest of us makes you love him all the more and wish desperately that he was still here to tell him. Seeing his son look longingly at the open casket as it was being wheeled away, knowing this was the last chance to see his father in physical form yet wanting to remain strong for his mother, well, it was horrible. Shell shocked, that is the only term I can think of when looking at those Dean left behind.

But Dean left many lessons too and as we listened to the stories, we took them in. Be kind. Be interested in others. Be passionate for life. Work on things you may not be good at (Dean had set up a training session with another friend that very Saturday morning to work on his bench press. In general, Dean didn’t train very often but that when he did, he wanted to do it as well as he could.) Get out. This is a big one for Matt and I. We don’t get out often. And it’s not a winter thing, it’s an ‘us’ thing. Get out. Be social. Invite others into your lives. Broaden your interests. Seek out the friends in your life.

For us, it could be something so little as heading over to Kirk’s at Winners Edge gym on a Strongman Saturday and hang out with the crew. But that’s two hours of connecting that we don’t usually do and it needs to change. Have lunch with friends (after the funeral we went for lunch with Sam McMahon for custard shakes and burgers. It was a great lunch with great stories but I was tummy ached the rest of the day from the food. Next time I order a salad;) Most of all, make sure our friends are okay. Do they need anything? Celebrate with them more,  and sit in front of the tv or in front of a book just a little less.

One of the stories I heard about Dean was that he called a friend out of the blue one weekend and said, “Let’s go play laser tag.” And they did! A man 50+ wanted to go and play laser tag. So he did! I love that! Play. Have fun. Do something that makes you laugh (but not bowling. Kirk just blew a bicep bowling so that’s off the fun list for now.) Connect. Keep an eye on Colin. Make sure we’re at his sporting events. No, it won’t replace the one face in the crowd that he’ll be searching for. But it will let him know that his fan club is there for him. Be consistent. Be lasting.

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Go out of your way. Honor Dean and his lessons.

My Uncle’s dying wish-he wanted me on his lap. He was in the electric chair.

Rodney Dangerfield  

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Auld Lang Syne

Posted on December 31, 2015 by tosabarbell

auld

In general, I’ve never been a huge fan of New Year’s Eve. When I was very little our family would get together with my two Uncle’s families and we would go to The Curtis Hotel with my Grandparents; sometimes even my Grandma’s brother and sister-in-law; my cousins and anyone else who wanted to join us. We’d play games, swim in the awesome pool…

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…and basically watch the adults’ shenanigans for two whole days. It’s some of the happiest memories of my childhood. One year we bunny hopped down the hallways at Midnight, that was pretty silly of my father Pastor John which made it all the more fun. We packed coolers full of snacks and to this day my mom’s shrimp dip with Ritz crackers is one of my most favorite foods on the planet.

The Curtis hotel was torn down eventually and as the kids got older it got harder to get everyone together. But I still have a Curtis Hotel postcard with this pool scene on it, I think that’s pretty cool. Funny enough, when I first moved to ‘tosa, I was walking down the sidewalk with Preacher and there was an old man down the street sitting out enjoying the summer day. We got to talking and I said I had moved here recently but grew up in the Minneapolis area (proof that I really do talk to people if they catch me on a good day.) The old man goes on to say that he used to go to Minneapolis as a boy and show Parakeets with his dad at The Curtis Hotel. It was an awesome conversation.

Anyways.

New Years Eve’s as I grew older became work nights as I babysat for money like a fiend and jacking up the rates to over two dollars an hour for a holiday evening was money in the bank man…money in the bank! When I would be home on a college break I was too broke or babysitting again so I didn’t do much. Oh sure, I’ve been hammered plenty of New Year’s Eves, wahtev. But there’s always been something a little sad for me on the evening (in 2013, when we located my birth mothers family on Maui, I was told that she died in a car wreck weeks after turning 21 on New Years. I dunno, people can argue whether or not that would be known in some ways. I don’t know. But yes, I’d be open to it being a contributor.)

Also, Auld Lang Syne. I have never been a fan of that song. It’s always seemed so sad to me. So when I started writing this, it was going to be an article on why we sing such a sad song at the turn of the year.

But then I Wiki’d it (totally a word) and started reading the history. I’m so square, I had no idea of it’s Scottish roots and since I compete in the Scottish Highland Games, I now feel a kinship with it. It’s not sad, although remembering the past can give a twinge, especially if we’ve lost someone. It’s always kind of made me dread moving into a new year where my loved one didn’t walk among us. Still does.

But we’ve had so much good. Good health; good relationships; good food and drink (you’ve met us right?) We’ve made it through some tough moments and to get a chance to soak it all in is a good thing. We move through time so fast, take a moment to give 2015 a salute; the finger; a face punch…whatever you need, and then move on.

Move on. There are things that happen in life where simply saying it doesn’t make it happen. A devastating death; a physical ailment; financial strain that causes homelessness or helplessness. Reach out, your friends are there. Or maybe even strangers. I don’t know, all I know is when I’ve had to humble myself and ask for help it’s been returned in ways I’d have never dreamed.

Happy New Year. Thank you for reading, even my sporadic posts. There are so many out there that I think of on a daily basis (not in a stalker way…well, a couple of you but I’ve already told you I’m stalking you so it’s all good) with fondness and gratitude that you’re in my life in large or small ways. I have so much admiration for so many and am thankful for it.

Auld Lang Syne

Should auld acquaintance be forgot
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne?

Chorus:
For auld lang syne, my jo,
For auld lang syne.
We’ll tak’ a cup o’kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

And surely ye’ll be your pint-stoup
And surely I’ll be mine;
And we’ll tak’ a cup of kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

Chorus

We twa hae run about the braes,
And pou’d the gowans fine;
But we’ve wander’d mony a weary fit,
Sin’ auld lang syne.

Chorus

We twa hae paidl’d in the burn
Frae morning sun till dine;
But seas between us braid hae roared’,
Sin’ auld lang syne,

Chorus

And there’s a hand, my trusty frier!
And gie’s a hand o’thine!
And we’ll tak’ a right guide-willie waught,
For auld lang syne.

Chorus

But to see her was to love her, love but her, and love forever.

Robert Burns

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Workout: New York

Posted on December 30, 2015 by tosabarbell

workout

 

One of my biggest guilty pleasures is Bravo TV. I have Matt watching Top Chef with me (actually one of our favorite shows) and occasionally he’ll be in the room if I’m catching up on a Real Housewives episode but that’s pretty rare. It’s hard to watch those self-absorbed cunty jealous bitches attacking each other for an entire hour. Bad energy.

Workout with Jackie Warner used to be one of my favorites until she seemed to get the tv bug and ramped up the crazy to such proportions that it became unbelievable. One of her coaches was killed by a train in recent years, remember that? He was shooting an energy drink commercial and thought he could outrun a train.

A train.

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Outrunning a train is pretty hard core I guess. Not outrunning it is a bummer.

Anyways.

It’s been a few years since Bravo has attempted another ‘Workout’ series and this time, they’ve headed east over to the New York. Ya know, the greatest city in the world. I believe NYC to be the armpit of the world. I’d rather visit Houston in July than NYC any time. (I’d go to Brooklyn at the drop of a hat. I love Brooklyn mostly because our dear friends Paulie and AoD of South Brooklyn Weightlifting Club are there;) NYC? No. I was there once during a garbage strike. A garbage strike in a city overflowing with people.

So that was fun.

I honestly can’t imagine why anyone would live in A) New York city or 2. Los Angeles. Blech. But then to believe that you’re in the greatest city of the world leads me to believe you’ve never been to interesting places like, oh I dunno, Cleveland. I used to work with a coach who grew up in the Chicago area but wanted to make it big in NYC, getting his own Black Iron gym going. Now, first off, it’s not my place to shit on someone else’s dreams. But I will question the mentality of a person who can only afford a studio apartment the size of our bathroom (for an economical fee of $2000 per month) for 15 years and is no closer to owning their own Black Iron gym than I am of having a Lynda Carter body (like, her body now. Not even the Wonder Woman body.) Honestly, I have no idea how much rent costs in New York City. All I know is that it is higher than our home mortgage which allows us to have a helluva lot ‘o fun in addition to living; a black iron gym, and a fine sized back yard for the big white dogs. (Asshole neighbor thrown in for free.)

SO, anyway, Workout New York city follows the cast of characters who you quickly see are filled with so many insecurities and neurosis that only reality TV can appreciate. There are a few bright spots. Holly Rilinger has been around for a long time and has a nice energy about her. I kind of picture her like the Adrian Wilson of her world. Adrian is bright and positive and kicks arse and basically is everything good about an athlete. That’s my impression of Ms. Rilinger. Stays above the fray. I like her.

I’ve only caught parts of episodes here and there if it’s on while I’m doing housework but one little scene yesterday caught my ear. One of the newer trainers, Lee Marti, is training for a physique contest. She met her trainer on the beach for a cardio session and was bemoaning how tired she was and she vented:

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(That’s her in the middle) “I’m down to 1400-1600 calories a day! I’m starving and exhausted!!” I thought originally that she said 1600-1800 a day but I think I was wrong. In other words, worst case sceanario, she’s DOWN to a low point of 1400 calories a day two weeks out from her first PHYSIQUE competition.

Last spring when I very briefly paid a bodybuilder to help me with my food, she had me at 1300-1400 calories a day and under 70 grams of carbs on my training/throwing days. Guess who felt like shit; gained weight; and whose throws went down the shitter? Ya. Me. A thrower/lifter weighing in I’m guessing around 100 pounds heavier than little Miss Thang above, training explosive lifts and throws instead of constant cardio. Giving me a diet with less calories and carbs than a 5’2, 120# physique competitor was stupid. You’re fired.

What I loved about Ms. Marti’s comment though, was the highlight that she was in a state of starvation. That her body wasn’t running on all cylinders. That this LOW CALORIE diet of 1400-1600 was brutal for her. Not good. No Bueno.

SO, on January 2nd when a large portion of America (large portion, get it???) starts their new diets, many with the help of “certified trainers” and the first thing they do is put an overweight female on a starvation diet of 12 weeks of 1200-1400 calories; let’s remember little Miss Marti.

120# (I’m guessing but she’s tiny) and muscular is-

STARVING AT 1400 CALORIES!!! SHE KNOW’S IT’S BAD, SHE HAS ONE GOAL AND WILL INCREASE HER CALORIES IMMEDIATELY AFTER.

1400 CALORIES BAD. TOO LOW. DON’T DO IT UNLESS YOU HAVE A SPECIFIC GOAL OF ENTERING A PHYSIQUE/FITNESS/BODYBUILDER COMPETITION IN THE NEXT TWO WEEKS. 

If the only tool in their toolbox is to restrict your calories to a dangerous level, fire the trainer. If you’ve been fat for a long time, it’s going to take a long time to change your food habits. Longer than 12 weeks.

Be patient. Be consistent. Look for good help. It’s out there.

The real man smiles in trouble, gathers strength from distress, and grows brave by reflection.

Thomas Paine

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Ghosts of Christmas Past

Posted on December 25, 2015 by tosabarbell

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Yesterday we were running the last of our errands and the song ‘Creep’ by Radiohead came on the radio. Whenever I hear Radiohead, I think of my beautiful, French friend, Veronique. It was one of her favorite bands and I can’t make it through the song without shedding a few tears. She’s been gone for almost two years now and the world shines a little less brighter without her in it.

It got me thinking about so many people who are no longer with us but for the memories we have of them. Good times; touch times; funny times; sad times, so many things shared with our friends and family and wouldn’t it be nice if we could have just one more night with each of them? A quick visit where we get one more laugh, one more hug, maybe even an unsaid apology. Just one night, one visit from those we miss.

And then I started to think that as much as I may miss dear friends who no longer walk among us, THEIR children most likely miss them so much more. Veronique’s two sons; my “3rd Mom” Paula’s adult children Molly and Joe, as much as I miss her I can’t imagine their thoughts on another Christmas Day without her in the kitchen cooking for not only them, but the grandchildren she never got to meet.

I wish THEY could hear their mom’s voices just one more time (I actually have an old answering machine with a message from Paula when she was sick but before she got too bad, 11 weeks from diagnosis to death wasn’t nearly enough time to process it all.) I wish I could hear my Grandpa say “Merry Christmas Mommy” to my Grandma and see her sweet smile.

 I’m sure all of us can list those we miss. There are so many people weighing on my heart today, Michele in Hutchinson who has to celebrate her first Christmas without her son, Reno and know that the anniversary of his death is just days away; our Highland Games brother Bill in Illinois who has to attend his son’s funeral on Sunday; Veronique’s boys; my lovely friend Jenn whom I know misses HER mom so much, so many more.

So as we sit and chill and maybe even do it in separate rooms (currently the Z’s are in the backroom watching some raunchy comedian; Oz is upstairs in his room playing his new video games, and Matt is outside smoking a cigar while keep a close eye on our beautiful nearly eight pound Prime Rib roast that currently is residing in the Big Green Egg for the next few hours) I’m so incredibly thankful for the fact that all my children are in the house on Christmas for the first time in years. Of course Zandra was the last one downstairs before we could dig into our stockings and when she groggily came and sat on my lap (at 11:00 am) her twin, Zac, came and put his arm around her and her simple greeting of, “Brother” brought more tears to my eyes. I’m so thankful.

But just one more visit from some ghosts of Christmas pasts would be so nice, for so many of us.

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