You know it's funny that ever since I switched from checking Myspace 5 times a day to using Facebook I haven't written any blogs.  I was reading back through a few of them, though, and I realized how much fun it is to look back on past events.  So...  I'm going to start blogging on here.  I created a new page on my website for it because who knows how long I'll be a Facebook addict and it really isn't much fun to transfer everything over to a new platform.  Speaking of which, I moved most of my Myspace blog over to this site.  Feel free to leave me a comment.  That's what it's here for.  Thanks, and see ya at the show!

Nearly a year ago I wrote a blog talking about how a close call with a television and a dresser really hit home the fact that life can be over in the blink of an eye. Tuesday evening I found out my Aunt Gliceria was brutally murdered in her home in Cuba by a long time family friend. This time there was no close call. Just a tragic ending.

At first I wanted to know why, but why doesn't matter. "Why" won't bring her back. If I knew "why" would I even care? Regardless of the reason there is no justification. "Why" is nothing.

So once again Life leaves me with this lesson. The same lesson that gets repeated over and over and over again. The same lesson I'm about to share with you not because you haven't heard it before but because that's what we do when these things happen.

We don't know how much time we have left. Make sure to make the most of every minute of every day. Everyone dies sometime, but not everyone truly lives. Make sure the people you love know you love them.

If I haven't said it before and if I don't say it again always know that "I love you".

The End

It's funny how people will often say in the debate over same sex marriage that even if they're allowed to marry, or cohabitate, or be 'domestic partners', that they shouldn't have kids either through artificial insemination or adoption. It's funny because they'll go on how other kids will tease them, and how will they explain to their friends that they have two moms, or two dads? Probably the same way I had to explain to certain people in my life who said "I feel sorry for Rick (that was my name back then), because he doesn't really fit in with white people OR black people". Fortunately for me I just wanted to have "good" friends, and it didn't matter what color they were and I was able to "fit in" with just about everybody. Oh sure, I got made fun of. Half-breed. Oreo. Whegro. That last one is kinda funny. But you get the idea. My great-aunt (my mom's aunt, that's my great-aunt, right?) told my grandma that it was horrible her daughter was going to marry a black man and for God's sake they better not have any children because think of how hard it will be on them!

Forty years ago when my parents got married the United States was in the middle of the Civil Rights movement. Back then many people felt what they were doing was absolutely disgusting. Some people still do. But don't use the kids as an excuse to further your own bigotry. I mean really, is the most important criteria for being good parents the fact that one has a ding dong and the other has a vajayjay? I hear stories all the time of hetero parents who physically and sexually abuse their kids, neglect them, lock them in cages, drown them in bath tubs, and get married to Britny Spears (I hope she gets some counselling).

So I guess if you hate gay people, fine, hate gay people. But don't pretend it's in the best interest of the kids because trust me, the kids will be fine. You'll just have to find another excuse.

It's amazing how some people can live to a hundred and others die before they really even have a chance at life. There are constant reminders all around us how we, or the people we love, can be gone in the blink of an eye. These reminders come in many forms. It may be an article in a magazine, a headline in the newspaper, a report on the radio, or even something as seemingly mundane as a talk show. There are also reminders every day of a higher power. We may choose to ignore these signs, but every now and then an event makes us acutely aware of their existence.

It wasn't long ago I was watching Montel (yes, when you have two boys you resort to such things when you've had enough of Dragon Tales and Spongebob) and they were talking about a little girl who climbed up on top of a dresser and knocked it over on top of herself and died. They said if it had a strap holding it to the wall this could have been avoided. I told myself that was a great idea. I should do that because Alex (my 3 year old) likes to climb on top of his bookshelf and dresser. I made a note to myself that I would go to the store and get some safety straps.

Well, time went on and I put it off. He'd climb on the dresser and I'd tell him to get down, and that it wasn't safe, and then I'd remind myself to get those straps and shortly thereafter I'd forget. Then it would happen again and I'd tell myself I need to go to the store and get the straps but I'd forget again.

CHAPTER 2

My new house (well, I've been there two years but I still call it my new house) has a bigger master bedroom than my old house. So much bigger that Jenny and I decided to get all new bedroom furniture when we moved in. Immediately after getting the new furniture we realized that it wasn't so much that our new bedroom wasn't so big, our old bedroom was just really small. We have talked about getting rid of the new furniture for smaller furniture so we can actually walk around our bed. We have a TV in our bedroom. It has a built-in DVD player.

I was brushing my teeth yesterday and Alex decided he wanted to watch Thomas [the Tank Engine]. Alex, trying to show his independence, decided he didn't need to ask for Daddy's help. He could do it all by himself. I was brushing my teeth when I heard the crash. I looked out from the bathroom and could see immediately what had happened. See, the TV is on top of my dresser. To get to it Alex had opened the bottom two drawers and used them as a ladder. His weight tipped the dresser over on top of him, TV and all.

A MIRACLE IN THE FORM OF UNDERESTIMATED SQUARE FOOTAGE AND OVERSIZED BEDROOM FURNITURE

Remember how I said we could barely walk around our bed? We have a sleigh style frame and when the dresser tipped it was stopped by the corner of the foot of it. The space was so tight the drawers didn't even come out. The TV flew right over the top of his head and get this - landed on a pillow. Alex was cradled, screaming on the ground between the TV and dresser. Not a scratch on him. Through his tears he just kept saying "I just wanted to see Thomas. I just wanted to see Thomas." The TV is fine. We watched Thomas for an hour. I also stopped at Home Depot and got saftey straps for all of my dressers and bookshelves.

I meant to write this a couple of weeks ago but I kept forgetting. So here goes.

Those of you with children can understand this. Babies spit up milk all the time. It's disgusting. Certain formula smells worse than others, but sometimes you don't have a choice. The Dr. says use Nutramigen, then by golly you're kicking out the $25 a can because it's the only thing that will make your baby stop crying. $25 for piece of mind isn't so bad. But this blog isn't about spit up, it's about puke. Alex puked for the first time 2 weeks ago. Spit up is white. Puke is purple. And orange. And red. And it has carrots in it. And rice... And crackers and popscicles and chicken... No matter how bad your baby's formula smells, a toddler's puke takes it to a whole new level. And when you know your toddler is about to blow chunks and you have him leaning over the toilet, you forget that a 3 year old doesn't understand what is about to happen. So he turns and says "daddy?" in that voice where you know they're scared even though they shouldn't be. But wait, he turns! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! And you grab his head as fast as you can to turn it 180 degrees BACK to the toilet! But it's too late. You only make it half way... And the puke flies and hits the wall, and the towels, and the AC vent, and it gets stuck inside the AC vent, and it soaks the basket of TP you have sitting so elegantly displayed (well as elegantly as ass wiping paper can be displayed), and the smell hits you. Immediately you feel your own stomache start to purge. But you're an adult, and you know that you have to suck it up and endure. Now is not the time to blow chunks of your own. At this point you have the head pointing in the right direction and your childs stomache purges again, and again, and again. Finally coming to a close. Bathroom covered in puke you walk him to the sink to rinse his mouth, brush his teeth, take the little guy to his room where you've placed a TV so he can wash Monsters, Inc for the 73rd time. He laughs and says "spit up like baby?" Yes, Alex. Spit up like baby...not quite...but it makes him feel better to know it's no big deal. For him anyway. Now you have the task of cleaning the walls, and taking apart the AC vent and cleaning the puke from between the slats, and throwing out the TP that was so elegantly displayed. And you lose your own appetite. For two days. Just thinking of it makes me want to hurl. So I better stop before I make myself sick.

Just thought I'd share.

So...on the topic of drunk chicks. I'm not sure she was drunk yet. Probably just not paying attention. A strange thing happens when there's no stage. The monitors (those speakers that are in front of the band so they can hear themselves) get put on the floor. Well, if you are walking backwards and happen to come upon one you will most certainly fall on your arse, dropping your drink all over yourself, and have everyone wondering if you're ok and laughing their heads off all at the same time. Not sure who she was, but she recovered quickly and I'm hoping she enjoyed herself the rest of the evening!

Macaluso's - wow. The pics are up on the website. I had no idea we could fit so many people in such a tight space. I'm not sure they did either. Can't wait to get back!

I used to drink a LOT (for me anyway) at gigs. 4 or 5 beers, a couple of shots. That was normal. Everything was great. At least I thought so anyway. After really considering the consequences of a DUI, or killing someone on the way home, I came to think I should stop at 2 beers. Three if I start early enough, and MAYBE a shot. One thing I have noticed, though, since changing my ways is how annoying drunk people can be. I mean, really, how hard is it to stay on your feet? Especially when falling over means knocking down my whole rack of guitars...and landing on top of them! Now, it's not that my guitars don't have scratches on them, but come on...

The Blue Fox was fun. I was SOOOOO tired I hardly made it to the show. I'm not quite sure, maybe it was the weather. Everyone seemed tired that night. We're back there in November. The day before Thanksgiving. Now THAT should be wild. See you there!

Last Saturday we played what I believe was our best show ever at Grampa Al's in Faribault. Some people just don't get it, though. Like the guy who thought it was funny to hit Biscuit in the leg with a beer bottle. He obviously doesn't know Biscuit's temper. When he's through with you, you're through... But that's ok, he decided Saturday was not the day to go to jail because of some idiot, and we all were happy about that. Or the two guys with the 80's guitar hero hairdos who thought it would be great to stand in front and bang their heads for the whole song, meanwhile clearing out the dance floor behind them because no one wanted to get hit in the eye by a flying mullet. What's worse, though, is when girls try to F* with us. See, I wouldn't feel bad kicking a guy who was too close to the stage, but it's tough to knock a girl's teeth out just because she's being stupid. Like this one who thought it would be great to stand right up front and push all the buttons on my pedal board. What was she thinking? "Gee, I should push this button and turn the guitar off in the middle of the song. That will be funny, I bet everyone here will love me for doing that!" Or this was the best, "I'll hit the microphone stand and hit him in the mouth, that will be funny. Oh, I'll do it again. Oh, I'll do it again. Oh, I'll do it again. Hmm, why did he knock the stand over? I should pick it up. no? Oh, ok..."

Don't get me wrong, I love every single person that comes out to see the band. This is how I make my living, and because of them I'm able to live a part of my dream! I just wish certain people would think for 2 seconds before they did something stupid. (Like post a blog scolding the fans)

And what does quixotic mean?

So last night my dad was honored at the Latin American Heritage Foundation Gala. The evening began with a trio playing Latin American music and my dad mingling with and signing autographs for the guests who had arrived. Dinner started with a salad covered with strawberries and strawberry vinagarette dressing followed by pork (which I don't eat but I did anyway) covered in cooked apples. Dessert was strawberry, vanilla, and chocolate mousse. So far, so good. No big deal. Nothing I hadn't seen before.

Side note - A funny moment occurred before dinner when I went to order a Corona at the bar. They didn't have any! I said "what?!? This is the Latin American Heritage Foundation Gala and you don't have Corona? Do you have Tequilla?" So I guess the bartender told the powers that be that "Tony Oliva's grandson wants Corona and since this is a Latin American deal we better get it!" Well, I'm not his grandson - I'm his son, but within 20 minutes I had a cold Corona with a lime at my table. I guess there are perks to this role. Anyway, back to my story.

What happened after dinner was more of the same. Slide shows and videos that I had seen a hundred times before, but what happened next was completely different. See, I've heard my dad be introduced to audiences before, and they talk about what a great baseball player he was and how he's so good for the community and blah blah blah, but the promoter of this event went up to the mic and said "I'm not going to talk about Tony Oliva tonight. I'm going to let YOU talk about Tony Oliva tonight. I'm going to walk around this audience and if you have a story to share please do so. That's when I realized that these people were here because of my dad. Not just because their company they worked for bought them a ticket, or because they wanted a reason to go out, but to show their love and support of him. One man who seemed to be in his early twenties got up and said "you know, I've only met Tony twice in my life, and I've probably talked to him for a half an hour, and he makes me feel like I could talk to him all night if I wanted to. He isn't so untouchable like a lot of the other professional athletes around." And young woman from US Bank stood up and said she was inspired by his story. She was from South America and was going through what he went through when he first came to America. She didn't have any friends or family here, she came for opportunity, and he made her feel like she could succeed too. And the stories kept coming.

The final part of the night was what really surprised me. You know when you go to a concert and you see your favorite band and they somehow look larger than life? I've seen Prince in concert a couple of times, and he really isn't very tall, but his personality is huge. I was at the MOA one time and Black Sabbath was walking through, and they just had this air about them that they were somebody special. Last night was the first time that ever happened for me with my dad. When he walked up to the podium in his best suit and tie, he just seemed to tower over the room. It was the first time I had ever seen him as a celebrity. He was one of those people that you knew was important just by how they carried themself. His message was simple and clear. "People think I'm crazy because I talk to everybody. I talk to girls, I talk to boys, I talk to old ladies, I talk to little kids, I even talk to dogs. One of my best friends in Cuba was a cow! When you go to work you have to choose your attitude. Sometimes it's hard to go to work and be positive but it doesn't cost you anything to say 'hi' to someone and make them happy. My biggest inspiration is my parents. I had 9 brothers and sisters and I watched how hard they would work to make sure we had food, and clothing, and a place to live. And they did it by working together. If we all work together we can succeed. If you have kids, tell them to go to school, and do something! I love Cuba, but this is the greatest country in the world because of the opportunities that are here and they've opened their doors for us. Go out and be somebody."

It was all the same inspirational speaker talk I had heard before, but for the people in the room they were hearing it from a legend, an icon, their hero. My hero. And I know that it touched their hearts and this experience will stay with them forever. I know it will with me.