Every now and then you wind up in a place you are supposed to be. You can feel it. Recognition of this is amazing and you never know how exactly it’s going to finish, you just know it is just. I love my Psych class. It is taught by a great professor that understands that college isn’t just about amount of work, it’s about learning who you are. It’s my Monday night class that runs from 7-950. You know I like something if skipping Monday night football every week is not only acceptable but has become mandatory. Last Monday we did an in class project that has resonated with me and touched me. We were to bring in 4 items from home and briefly talk about them with the entire class. 1 item from your childhood. 1 item that is sentimental. 1 item that motivates. 1 item about your Future. Here is what I said. For 2 of these items I am going to refer to old blog posts, as I’ve told you these stories before.


I brought this old tin soap dish. When I was in middle school my grandfather passed away. I was very hurt and the pain was immense. I had been through loss before but this was one of my early heroes. He was my male role model. The one that I could rely on to teach me something every summer. He taught me how to build something from virtually nothing. He taught me how to survive, if I ever had to. His bizarre little lessons are still in there. I don’t have to work very hard to recall them. I spent a good part of my childhood at my grandparents and when it came time to go see grandpa’s things I thought about all the items that meant something to me. There wasn’t much but a few things that really wanted. By the time I made it there, everything had been vultured by rest of the family. I was so pissed off. This would jump start my pissed off teenage years. I found this soap dish. I hated it. I really fucking hated it. So I took it out of spite. Years and years and years later I would return home to go through my childhood boxes and I found this tin. I took it on my adult adventures. One day, fairly recently I found it again in some box. Inexplicably, I love it. I really love it. You see, I realized that day that all that “stuff” doesn’t matter. I had great adventurous experiences with that man and for that I am forever grateful. I miss both of my grands every day. I love you.


I brought a wine cork from Chandon winery. The story is called “Piper Magic aka Our Pregnancy Story.” Put that in the Search section at the top right of this screen. Enjoy if you’ve never read.


I brought a golf ball that is from the most important round of golf I’ve ever played. The story is Golf Saved My Life.  Put that in the Search section at the top right of this screen. Enjoy if you’ve never read. PS… this ball and game motivate me everyday. It’s big part of who I am.


I brought a frame. Inside that frame is the first onesie I ever bought Piper. It says, “My Daddy Golfs better Than Your Daddy.” I said, “my future is waking up in the morning, changing and feeding this little miracle. my future is being her role model. The frame that the onesie is in; is the one that will hopefully hold my college degree one of these days. I really hope that she gets the “anything is possible” gene from me. I’ve never believed in my future more that I do now.”

I told these 4 emotional stories in front of 40 strangers. I told them without wavering. I did not cry. I spoke with conviction. I made eye contact with everyone. This is a breakthrough. I get on here and tell you my life stories and some of them are super moving and personal but I’m behind a key board, alone. I always thought, “could I talk about these with people, face to face.” I did more than that. When I was done I sat back and really listened to the rest of class. I was moved by some of the stories.  I realized everyone has one and it’s possible that I should get to know some of these inspiring people. I waited after class to quickly talk to the professor. She said before I could say anything, “thank you so much for sharing such personal stories. It’s incredibly brave to do so, to be so vulnerable.” I was taken back. Nobody has ever literally thanked me for sharing. I didn’t know what to say. When I was done with her I exited the class. There was a small group of students waiting for me. They took turns telling me how much they loved my stories. They were moved, a couple to actual tears. I am at a loss but it feels really good. I can’t wait for future Monday nights.