Do We?

Do we take enough time to write short stories? And wrap prosciutto around melon?

Do we take enough time to travel to small towns in Iowa and large cities in South America? And learn the names of the locals who serve our food? Like Kathy at Sum Hing and that-one-guy at Cancun.

Do we take enough time to take photographs of the sunsets that amaze us? And the people that push us to ride or run until it's dusk?

Do we slow down enough to watch old, black and white movies? And read long books that have always been on our book list?

Do we really have 45 hours of work to do each week? Or are there times when 60 isn't enough and 35 is just too much?

Do we stop to smell the roses? And pause enough times throughout the day to be thankful for our fortune?

Do we take enough time to realize we have all we need? And to understand that many of those around us don't?

Do we spend enough time reminiscing about that glass of wine in Chianti, Italy? And to swirl the wonderful Sauvignon Blanc that we buy from the local grocery store?

Do we take enough time to write about our thoughts? And to let our thoughts drift away with the cool breeze of a late August evening?

Do we take enough time to understand that we've come to a place that we never planned on arriving at? And that it's a better place than we could have ever imagined a few years ago?

Do we take enough time to call old friends and just ask them how their day was? And to talk to our neighbors and ask them to tell their life stories?

Do we sit on the patio enough with no music and no television? And simply watch the light flicker against the brick wall?

Do we take enough time to daydream like we did in English 101? And to read "Catcher in the Rye" for a second time?

Do we take enough time to listen to entire CD's anymore? And put our favorite song on repeat until the battery in our iPod wears out?

Do we take enough time to walk the streets where we live? And sit on the park benches watching people pass by?

Do we take enough time to....

...enjoy the ride?
Damm

Dammapalooza

As we floated down the Winnebago River, I thought to myself, "Why the hell did I name a weekend after myself? What a ridiculous idea!"

The name was self-indulgent and stupid. The weekend was epic -- maybe Dammapalooza wasn't such a bad idea after all.

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I guess the weekend began on Thursday night as I went to Gejo's in Clear Lake to celebrate a good friend's 27th birthday. We sat outside, drank beer and margaritas, and enjoyed a bunch of awesome Italian pizza. My friends' children ran around in the outdoor patio and we all laughed at the crazy scene we were creating with four kids under the age of 4 and a bunch of older kids in our 20s enjoying a summer night with great friends.

We took a trolley around Clear Lake, listened to a mediocre band on Main Street and laughed as Cooper, Rylee and Aiden danced the night away. Funny, funny kids!

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Friday brought another night in Clear Lake -- this time at the OP. We sat outside and had some really good food and told way too many stories about me. Charlson was adding plenty of spice to all of the stories and we laughed our asses off the whole night. Charlie and I came back to F.C. to sit around and drink the rest of the night. Preparation for the big day ahead.

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On Saturday morning at the way too early hour of 7 am, Charlie and I headed to Rice Lake Golf Course in Lake Mills to play a round of golf.

We drank some Budweisers and a bloody mary....Joe smoked a cigar....and we both played really good golf but managed to not make a birdie (by the way I beat Charlson, thank you very much!).

Noon to 1 pm was a rush. We zipped from #18 to the liquor store to pickup a bunch of beer, to Joe's house to get his swim trunks, to my place to pickup some other friends, to Borderline for a greasy pizza, and to Leland to meet the rest of our friends and start our journey down the Winnebago River.

One canoe. One paddle boat. One oar per boat. Eight friends. Over 100 beers. Not enough sunscreen.

All this would add up to a 7-hour, 7-mile journey down the Winnebago. We cannonballed off of muddy hills, swam, drank, pushed the boats down the river, tried to paddle the boats down the river, and attempted to avoid rocks, logs and other debris as we walked down the river.

As the sky turned dark, we made it to Pammel Park in Forest City and everyone was really glad to be back.

Sometimes we pretend like life is complicated....but it's really not.

There should be more days with friends, the outdoors and a bunch of beers.

I know there is more to life than those 3 things but Dammapalooza didn't need anything else.

At least for a hot weekend in August, those 3 things were enough.

We're doing it again next year if you want to join.

Enjoy the ride,
Damm

Spiraling Clouds of Smoke

What keeps us from breaking free from the routines we have so firmly established?

My guess is the idea of comfort holds us at bay more than anything else. The comfort of family, of familiarity or simply the comfort of stagnation.

"To strive, to seek, to find and not to yield," Tennyson once wrote.

But driving around Forest City tonight I saw none of this going on -- no striving, no seeking...plenty of yielding.

A kid with a backwards hat scooting along on his skateboard going around "the loop."

An endless series of one-story houses with flat-panel TVs shining through the living room shades.

A woman taking out her trash in a blue bag. Her next-door neighbor taking out the recycling in the yellow tub.

The dim light of a street lamp illuminating the path for a couple on their nightly walk.

A teenage girl taking her dog for a walk.

Three men and women sitting on a wooden bench smoking cigarettes outside the townie bar -- the cool breeze of a summer night and the spiraling clouds of smoke easing their minds after a long day of work.

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The more I thought about the scenes I was observing, the more I realized that this was all perfectly good.

Nothing wrong with comfort and familiarity if that's what you desire.

Families need to settle down somewhere. Children need a place to grow up. Seniors need a quiet town in which to retire.

But for me, on this night, there was no longer the same hometown comfort.

There was a deep yearning for something greater. For something further away.

New ideas. People with intellectual curiosity and big dreams. Diversity.

A break from the routine of a Monday night in Forest City, Iowa.

I took a night off from working out and look what happens...my mind decides to do the workout instead!

Tomorrow I better get back on my bike and...

Enjoy the ride,
Damm