Doing Your Absolute Best
To my fans (all 5 of them 
), I apologize for the lack of posts recently. It’s been a crazy couple of months, as you’ll read about in my future posts. Thanks to everyone sending emails and comments in the downtime. I promise I will not let you down with several posts already on deck. I have one for almost chopping off my finger, another where I admit to my addiction to chick rock and yet another about my decision to get engaged, which was very easy, and my decision on how much to spend on an engagement ring, which was very hard.
But I’ve decided to move this post to the head of the line.
I’ve shed some tears lately and I don’t cry easily or often. The last time I can recall this rare occurrence was on January 27th, 2007. Over the month leading up to that date, as a birthday gift to myself, I broke up with my girlfriend which was a year overdo, I packed a duffle bag, sold everything else and let everyone know I decided to move to LA. On Janaury 26th I threw myself an awesome going-away party at Orchid Lounge in New York City and still drunk the next morning, I boarded the 9:00 am Jetblue flight from JFK to Burbank. I was a free man, on a new adventure, setting out to do what I love and do best, act and write.
On the flight, they showed my favorite movie, Rudy.
What a perfect movie to see on this trip into the next stage of my life. And this is when I cried. I pulled my maroon MIT hat down to hide my face and I watched Sean Astin being carried from the Notre Dame field. He achieved such greatness against all odds. I could relate and I cried full of a thousand emotions.
The next time I truly cried was on Valentine’s Day, February 14th, 2010. Just a couple of days ago. And I cried twice.
The first cry you may think was because I am so in love, which I am, and because I got to spend a beautiful day with Anna, which I did.
But it was for a different reason.
My dad’s sick and my mother is having a very hard time with it. The whole family is, really, but my mom gets it the worst because she is with him every day. It’s hard to see someone you’ve loved for so long slowly turn into a different man. And when I called to wish them a Happy Valentine’s Day, it turned out to be a particularly bad day.
What made me cry, though, was when my dad took the phone and he explained to me how he felt in his own words, as best he could. He took his time, finding the best words he could think of, and he talked. And I could hear how hard he was trying. And through his pained speech, I also heard how hard he ALWAYS tried to do his best and be his best for the family.
Throughout everything, his two-time battle with cancer and now the dimensia, my dad has never lost one thing – his sense of humor. As you can see in this recent picture with Anna where he’s trying to bite her! Although he does not speak up as much as he used to for fear of saying something incorrectly, you can tell that when he does talk he still has his awareness and extremely witty sense of humor. Even at my dad’s worst, he is an example of what I aspire to be.
The second time I cried that day was while watching the Olympic men’s mogul competition. Skiing, Seth, Really? Damn right.
Of course I was already on the emotional edge because of my family, but add to that my being in Canada, watching the Canadian Olympic games, engaged to a Canadian and, the cherry on the cake, hearing the inspirational story of Canadian, Alexandre Bilodeau.
Alexandre’s greatest inspiration is his older brother, who has cerebral palsy. The doctors did not expect his brother to walk past the age of 10 and he is still walking at age 28! With a role model like that, Alexandre refused to ever quit and pushed himself to the limit. The result? Alexandre nailed his mogul run and took home the first gold medal Canada has every received while hosting the Olympic games.
And I cried. I cried for Alex’s story, I cried for my dad, and I cried for myself.
And that cleansed the system, which I really needed. It’s time to start writing again.
I’ve got Olympic curling on in the background, too. Something tells me nothing in this sport is going to inspire me nor make me cry. But these days, you never know.
