The simple formula
Breathe.
Give thanks.
Repeat as necessary.
Both are necessary.
Happy Thanksgiving!
The boys are back in town
Take a gander at this group of old guys (and one younger lady):
You might think there’s nothing remarkable about them. But you’d be wrong. I met all the guys in the picture when they were young dudes, back in 1982. It was our freshman year of college at Xavier University. (I know that’s hard to believe, as we all look so young… there’s no way we’re in our 60s!)
And here we are, 43 years later. A band of brothers with a bond of friendship that’ll never be broken. That’s truly remarkable.
It stinks that it’s usually sad occasions that bring us together. The first photo above was after yesterday’s funeral for our friend LJ – that’s his wife Patty in the middle. She went to XU too – she and LJ started dating in college, so she’s been part of the gang for nearly as long as we’ve been a gang.
Our friend Ned isn’t in the top photo either – he passed away two years ago, sadly. And a few fellas couldn’t make it in for the services. But they were there in spirit.
In S.E. Hinton’s novel That Was Then, This Is Now, narrator Bryon Douglas said:
If you have two friends in your lifetime, you’re lucky. If you have one good friend, you’re more than lucky.
If that’s the case, then we all won the friendship Powerball lottery. When I showed up at XU back in August of 1982, I had no idea that I was about to hit the jackpot. Such rewarding relationships, with friends that are good as gold.
My buddy Rick (yep, he’s in the photo from yesterday) sent me a text today and summed it up beautifully:
I’ve been thinking this morning that of all the non-XU friends I have, there is not a single one who can claim a cohesive group of 30-40 people who are always there for each other no matter the distance, the financial status, or the time between interactions, the way our crew is. It is honestly a really great feeling, even in times of sadness that will inevitably draw us together again and again, but knowing that even in the sad times, there will always be great stories, great memories, and uncontrollable laughter as the by-product. I thank God for you and our whole group of misfits that somehow all fit together!
Amen, Brother Rick, amen!
Spoken and Unspoken
An incomplete list of the things I wish I’d said to one of my best friends, as he lay dying from brain cancer.
- You have been a tried and true friend for more than 43 years, since we met in the dorms our freshman year. I’m truly grateful for our time together.
- We had so much fun over those 43 years – and most of it was probably legal. I will cherish the memories.
- My life is infinitely richer for having met you and having been befriended by you. I won the friendship lottery.
- You truly are one of the nicest people in the world. Your sincerity, your empathy, your complete lack of guile – such great gifts to bestow upon us.
- Your devotion to family is an example for all of us – a steadfast son, a devoted husband, a loving father, a doting “Pops” to your grandkids.
- You are so brave. Your courage in the face of soul-crushing, heart-breaking news, just a couple of months past your 60th birthday, is admirable.
- You are so strong. Even while the cancer ravaged your brain and body, you stayed positive, stayed resilient. You lived out The Serenity Prayer:
- In your courageous — and serene — approach to your final chapter on earth, you taught all of us more about what really matters.
- I love you, brother.
What I actually said to one of my best friends, as he lay dying from brain cancer:
“I love you, brother.”
The latter will have to suffice. I’m not good at goodbyes.
Rest in peace and supreme happiness, my friend. You’ve earned your wings.
John Hadden. March 6, 1964 — November 15, 2025.
Miles of memories
This past weekend, my wife and my son Peter flew to Hilton Head, SC to run a half-marathon.
Meanwhile, I drove 278 miles to Nashville on Saturday to see The Beths in concert.
Oh, and then I drove another 88 miles to Lexington, KY on Sunday to see Kathleen Edwards in concert.
The thought of running around the block, much less 13.1 miles, doesn’t appeal to me at all. Yet I’m fine standing for two hours at a show. I don’t know about a “runner’s high” but I do know that hearing a great song live sends my spirits soaring.
Tina and Peter got a finisher’s medal after the race.
I got a setlist after Kathleen Edwards’ show.
My wife’s trying to run a race in every state. I think South Carolina was #26 or #27.
I don’t have a goal to see a concert in every state. But maybe I should.
They’re different kinds of miles, but they’re totally worth it if they bring you joy, and you’re making memories in the process.
Live music is my marathon. I’ll never stop running.
Permission granted
A bit of Monday morning inspiration courtesy of Austin Kleon:
Maybe it isn’t so much “inspiration” as “motivation to create a little perspiration.”
Drawing art, starting a business, writing a book – they all take effort. Even putting an album on the turntable (or creating a playlist) requires a bit of exertion.
You don’t need permission from anyone else. But you do have to do the work.
Austin Kleon is the New York Times bestselling author of a trilogy of illustrated books about creativity in the digital age: Steal Like An Artist, Show Your Work!, and Keep Going. He’s also the author of Newspaper Blackout, a collection of poems made by redacting the newspaper with a permanent marker.
He sends out a weekly “10 things” email newsletter that’s always engaging. You can sign up for it in the sidebar of his website’s home page.
“Monetize” is not the prize
I’m way overdue for a Seth Godin reference. Lemme rectify that right now.
That’s Seth’s blog post from 10/2. In its entirety. (I should be learning his “economy of words” lessons too!)
When I read this post, I immediately thought of three things that don’t “pay me back”:
- This blog.
- The podcast I do with my buddy Dave.
- My music blog/whatchamacallit (where I also post podcast episodes).
They’re all loss leaders… I’ve earned the princely sum of zero dollars and zero cents, combined, from all three. (Quite the trifecta!)
I have to pay for the domain names, the podcast hosting, the WordPress hosting, anti-spam software… it probably comes out to just shy of $300 a year.
Don’t tell WordPress and Podbean and Akismet and Namecheap, but I’d gladly pay a lot more.
I’m not looking to “monetize” my efforts.
The blog has helped me be a better writer (still a work in progress), stay better connected with my friends, and even connect with one of my mom’s relatives in Italy. Pure gold. And my Cincinnati Magazine writing assignments most assuredly wouldn’t have happened without this blog.
The podcast about 97X seems like a fool’s errand. Very few people listened to the station when it existed, and it’s been off the air for two decades (or a mere 15 years if you include the dot-com era). But the people who listened to the station absolutely loved it. And somehow, some way, despite the lack of promotion (and the weird name of “97X Rumblings from the Big Bush”), they found the podcast. As I tell Dave all the time “every time we publish a new episode, we make 150 people very happy.” Through the pod, we’ve been able to reconnect with old friends, meet new ones, talk to musicians we admire (the latest episode features two members of Too Much Joy), and create a place for folks to relive some of their fondest memories. And hanging out with Dave — one of the most naturally funny people I’ve ever met — is always a treat.
My music blog? It’s mostly a “concert calendar” – every few weeks, I’ll post about the bands coming to town, and throw in a bunch of wacky music-related material. In other words, it’s a chance for me to connect my love of music with my love of being goofy. Sold!
Combined, my trifecta of trash takes up a decent amount of my time. And time is our most precious commodity. But I spend it willingly and gladly. I’m not getting “paid back in equal measure.” And that’s exactly the point!
You done said…