Back to School.

Well I've been meaning to write this post for a while now but I finally found some time and I think the timing fits in quite well with everyone returning to their fall campuses and beginning another semester.

A few days ago, I turned my truck off and hopped out and I began to walk across the all but empty parking lot. It was nighttime and for once it was actually somewhat cool out, a light breeze blew through the trees and rustled the leaves which were now somewhat more crisp as autumn approaches.

As I walked passed the basic training barracks and across the drill pad I looked up at the night sky which was filled with some stars, but most were drowned out from lights surrounding the pad. I stopped in the middle of the drill pad and looked around and thought that you could almost mistake this place for a college campus. The barracks looked like giant dormitories and there wasn't a soul in sight.

I thought to myself that most college aged kids are returning to their campuses and getting ready for the fall term. Soon enough they'll be in libraries busy reading history books, magazines, and journals. They'll be headed out on Friday nights to parties at fraternities and sororities. Saturdays of course are reserved for their respective school's football games and after the game they'll go out and sit in bars, smoke cigarettes and discuss politics, religion, and what they'll do after they graduate.

Then I thought to myself what about the kids in these huge dormitories here that I stood and looked around at. They're not dormitories of course, they're barracks that house Basic Training soldiers here. I say "kids" because that's what we all are here, just kids. For the most part, just a bunch of 18 to 25 year old kids trying to do what's best for our country. But this post isn't about what I do, it's about what they do.

They come from all different walks of life. Christians, Catholics, Baptists, Sikhs, Muslims, and Jews. Rich, poor, middle class. Families, single, divorced, widowed, happily married, separated. White, Black, Hispanic, Asian, Pacific-Islander, even a former Iraqi translator who came to America for a chance at success, but above all, they're American. I've seen them come and go already. Young boys, some still in high-school all the way to older guys with doctorates from Ivy League schools. They come from all over the country and all over the world, from Puerto Rico and the US Virgin Islands. They come because they want to. No one stood there and made them sign an enlistment contract. This all-volunteer Army is the greatest in the world not because we have a lot of cool shit, it's the greatest because of the people that make it great.

Back to school. While some of their friends are off back going to college they're here, training to become soldiers in the world's greatest army.

Just like their friends at college they'll graduate, but instead of a black cap and gown they'll be wearing a black beret and crisp green Class A's. Their teachers will be their too, but they won't be wearing those funny looking hats and gowns either, they'll be wearing brown campaign hats.

In a few months they'll have magazines alright, plenty of 'em. They'll have book-bags too. They'll have them, but not in context that most college kids have them. Most kids won't leave their house without their I-pod or their day is shot, these kids will take their weapon with them everywhere so they can shoot.

The magazines that they'll have are filled with green tip 5.56mm ball ammunition, not fashion tips and guy advice. And the bookbags they'll carry are filled with extra socks, a poncho, sleep system, flashlight, and a myriad of other gear. The books they'll read will be field manuals. They won't be like their peers reading about history, they'll be the ones writing it.

In a few months, they won't wear Uggs, a North Face, or carry a Nagelene bottle because it's trendy.

In a few months, they'll wear desert-tan combat boots, an IBA (body-armor), and a drink from a Camelback because their lives depend on it.

They do this because they volunteered to. While the rest of their friends are celebrating the big win at one of the university's fraternities, they're fighting and training as a part of America's largest, most decorated and respected fraternity. A fraternity in which your life literally depends on the brother or sister beside you. The fraternity of which I speak has plenty of chapters spread across the country. It has more famous and fabled brothers and sisters in more powerful and respected positions than all of the other fraternities and sororities combined. We're talking about being in the company of US Presidents, heads of Fortune 500 companies, professional athletes, and entertainers, and your common citizen. This fraternity is true to its founder's philosophy, ideals, and beliefs. No brotherhood or sisterhood can ever compare to that of U.S. Army.

After thinking about all of this as I walked across the drill-pad, I could here the echo of Taps, without a doubt it was eleven o'clock. The lone bugle played it's final note and it echoed back off of the hills in the distance. I remembered then where I was, not on some college campus staring at empty dormitories, but on a Military Post looking at the darkened windows of barracks. The windows are dark not because they are not there, the windows are dark for they are already fast asleep, they have training in the morning.

As I stated previously, this post is not about me, this post is about them. Some of my friends have graduated but some are still in school. All I ask is that when you drive your daily commute or as you walk across campus to your next class, you take a minute to stop and think about the soldier who is currently training, deployed, or retired. Think about the soldier that has made the ultimate sacrifice, think about them all because without a doubt they have done their duty and served our nation in the most unselfish of ways.

House.

Well it was a place to call home. It feels like I learned a lot from that house. I still remember when I helped everyone move in...err I mean when I arrived everything was already moved in. It seems like only yesterday we moved into that house. We called it the crib, pad, lair, 2022, place, but I always pretty much just called it "the house."

I still remember when we went to look at it, well the truth is...it wasn't even there yet it was still yet to be built. I remember touring the model house nearby right before the girls got there to do their tour. Immediately we knew that we were going to live in a house like that. So we went back to Kardon and called our parents and scraped up enough cash for our first, last, and security deposits. From there on out, it was pretty much a wrap.

Who would get the big room?

We followed the ancient and honored tradition of picking numbers out of a hat...not once, but twice. First to determine the order in which we would draw and then pick the actual numbers which corresponded to the different rooms of the house. I can still remember that Michael was extremely disappointed in getting the bone after doing most of the work. Spuds made out with the largest room, and if memory serves me correct, I don't even think Blair got to pick.

Our First Party.

I don't remember it.

The Quality Craftsmanship.

Sure I could bore you with stories of crown molding and the spiral staircase that never happened. Instead I can tell you about the more interesting stuff. Like when the entire backyard well collapsed during a function. Or perhaps the time when I came home from class and went into the basement only to find our entire house supported by jacks. Or when Spud's entire room was ripped apart because the roof leaked. Yea to be honest the house was pretty solid, it went through quite a bit in the almost two years we lived in it.

The Parties

I can honestly say that I don't think that we ever threw a bad party. Then again I'm also friends with people who can have a good time just about anywhere as long as there's a keg of Key and some speakers.

The Pit.

Enough said.

If there's one thing I remember about that house, it really comes down to the events that transpired within those sheetrock and drywalls. That's what I really remember. So, without further adieu:

Jarrett Buchanan's Top 10 Memories of THE HOUSE.

Hon. Mentions: YEAAA PAIGE, Wolf, DUTY TIME, "You're a dog! You don't even deserve to be talked to!"---errr wait wrong house, the time I washed my entire wardrobe and a pen exploded in the dryer.

10. The Hand.

I can still remember when the girls absolutely freaked out when they "saw" a hand reach in through the back door. By the time I heard about the incident, everything had been stolen from the house and at least one of them had been robbed. Over exaggerated? Maybe.

9. My Weekend

Yea I'm sure most of you know exactly what happened during this particular weekend. In actuality you probably remember more of it than I do. All I know is by the time it was over, I had a pair of jeans in the washer, a mattress and sheets in the street, and a terrible headache.

But for the record: "I don't even...like...nacho...cheese."

8. New Years Day 2009

I woke up in Blair's bed, partially clothed. He walked in early and said, go to your bed...I responded, "You go to your bed!" I later managed to pull myself together and realize I was not in my own room and also that I had not been miraculously healed as I initially perceived. I just never took my contacts out.

7. White-Trash Bashes.

A tradition carried on from the times of Sir Hussey. The annual WTB was definitely one of the yearly highlights at the house. I mean how can you beat/justify a night with all your friends drinking Budweiser, wearing cutoffs, listening to Skynard, and watching the big race. I must say the novelty has worn off a bit as I have just described my average day in Kentucky.

6. The Intervention

Remember the time when we piled snow in front of the girls' house? I sure do. I still have the voicemail from some Temple Police detective telling me that it was in my best interest to cooperate with the authorities and that "my college career depends on it". Obviously not. But even better than that is when we had a full fledged intervention. Accusations flew...tears flowed...and lies were prevalent. In the end what did we accomplish? Nothing. It basically worked itself out after about a week.

5. Are You a Real Cop?

Yes. We had a small gathering on the rear patio. We were simply enjoying each other's company near the fire fueled by old nursing textbooks and college notebooks. Until...until the police showed up at our rear gate and announced themselves. Michael responded with "Are you a real cop...we don't even have the key for this gate!" It was pretty awesome.

4. WIPEOUT!

They shall remain nameless. It's a simple story really. Boy meets girl. Girl asks boy to dance. Boy takes girls hand.....WHAM! Girls face strikes the floor with such force that I wasn't sure she had all her teeth. But she did, and a few stitches later she was fine and we have a story that we can all laugh at...well at least I can.

3. My 21st Birthday.

It may have been the largest party ever held at the house, one or two may have surpassed it. In terms of fun, it was awesome. If you were there you heard my speech, and if you weren't there's video floating around somewhere that will one day remove all credibility that I may somehow eventually gain with others. It truly was an epic birthday.

2. "YOU WANT BEER?..."

The only time I can remember getting angry with each other. So here's the back drop...we were having a party, the beer ran out, but we had a reserve case of Natty Light stored in his* fridge. Blair and I went upstairs to acquire some beverages...but alas! the door was locked!

Me:"What are we going to do?"

Blair:"Knock on the door 'till he answers...it will be a war of attrition!"

Me: "Ok."

In retrospect, it was a poor choice to have kept pounding on the door. But we were living in the moment, and boy were we thirsty. We knocked, yelled, tapped, pounded, and chanted but to no avail.

Me: "Blair, I don't think he's going to answer...he's probably dead or something."

As I made my way down the steps, I heard a commotion. Then I heard the door fly open, he let out a god-awful roar...quite demonic, almost as if he was possessed by the devil himself, "YOU WANT BEER...HERE'S YOUR F!#$ing BEER!" I quickly turned back and only could catch a glimpse of a rather large blue cube shaped object traveling extremely fast down at me from the top of the steps nearly 8 feet above me. I managed to bob to the left and deflect the thirty pack of Natty with my hands, but not before it gashed my hand open...okay there was a small cut. But the blood, it was everywhere. The beast let out a thunderous growl, "THERE'S YOUR BEER!"

We were no longer friends. That is until about twenty minutes later when we hugged it out and recounted the tale over a cold Natty from the case which nearly led to my untimely demise.

*His: He/him/etc shall remain nameless for the protection of his identity.

1. Honestly I don't really think that I can come up with a favorite memory from that place that we called home for two years. They are all truly special in their own way. I'm gonna miss that place and hopefully one day I'll be able to drive my kids around and say that's where daddy learned to party. That's where I learned the difference between SoCo and SoCo 100. That's where I learned that you don't have to answer the door when the police knock, and that garbage men will take an entire mattress.

That's where I learned where it doesn't matter where you live, who you live with, or what you do...

A house is just a place with four walls, a roof, a bed and a toilet. Or as my grandfather John A. once so eloquently put it, a place to: "shit, shower, and shave". The house was only that...a house. We could have been anywhere in the world and still made lasting memories with our friends. I'll probably still miss it though...a little anyway.

Well as most of my old roommates have moved out or are almost out of the house, I just wanted to take the time to say thank you.

Michael, Blair, Spuds, Jason, Jeff, Matt, and Dave...thanks for the memories we had a blast and I can't wait to visit you guys in your new places so we can do it all over again.

You can pick your friends....

So I have a few minutes to write a few quick lines before I hit the rack for some much needed sleep down here at Knox. You never really know how important your friends are in your life until they're hundreds if not thousands of miles away. Homesick much?...not really. I'm not one to get sappy and emotionally attached...

but I will be the first one to tell you how much I truly appreciate my friends.

Let's be clear that there is an inherent difference between those that you associate with and those whom you choose to call friends. Sometimes you spend time with people because you have to. You work with them, you live with them or sometimes they're just people you have to deal with in your daily life.

Your friends however are the people that you can always trust. You can trust them to tell you how stupid that outfit looks but they'll still go out with you anyway. Your friends are the people who will stick with you through all the shit and be there and go man, that was crazy. Your friends are the ones in life who keep you grounded.

I've come to realize that your friends are really one of the few things in life that you can actually choose. You certainly don't get to pick your family, what color your hair is or even sometimes where you end up. But you do get to choose who you share your life experiences with and how you make the best of what's around.

I've had friends come and go over my 22 years here on this great earth. It's sad to think about but sometimes friendships have a tendency to slip through the cracks of the broken sidewalks and others come and go in a hastier manner than a summer breeze but still some have been around since the opening act...been there with you learning to read books in kindergarten. Others you may have met in college trying to figure out how to read girls. And others you may have met only a few weeks ago but you know you would trust your life with.

Just a quick shout-out to my friends....here....there...and everywhere in between.

So Long Charlie

Well, Charlie Company has finally graduated. It's been a long 29 days but looking back it was worth it. I was provided with an opportunity to train with, assess, and develop the future Officer Corps of the US Army. Together we did everything...rappelling, land navigation, combat water survival training, basic rifle marksmanship and everything in between. The hours were brutal enough but in retrospect, I had the pleasure of being with a great group of ten young men and women from all over the nation who aspire to be future Second Lieutenants. It really provided a bit of a reality check for myself. The gold bar that I wear on my chest every day when I go into work is everything that they aspire to attain. Honestly, sometimes I forget how much hard-work, time, and training I invested into becoming a Second Lieutenant in the US Army, but trust me it was all worth it.There is no greater feeling at the end of the day than that of knowing you are serving a grateful nation and giving back to a country that gave so much to you.

I'm doing well down here and life is good. As most of you all know I like to keep a low profile when it comes to work. Above you will see one of the few pictures the Public Affairs Office (PAO) managed to capture of me instructing cadets on the fundamentals of basic marksmanship. As you can see I am providing cadets with expert knowledge of how to acquire a proper sight picture, well almost expert anyway.

Now I'm moving onto a new job where I will be with the 1-46 Adjutant General, until I depart for Ft. Sill, OK in the fall. At my new position I will be responsible for the flow of new privates entering the United States Army. I'll make sure they get their hair cut, receive the necessary shots, dental and medical evaluations. By the time they leave the 1-46 AG they'll even be able to tell the difference between a Major and a Sergeant Major. It sounds cheesy but I'll be one of the first faces they see when arriving here at Ft. Knox for Basic Combat Training.

Like I stated before, life is good here and contrary to popular belief I am alive and well in Fort Knox despite the blistering heat and unrelenting humidity.

I miss you all and hope to see you all soon, until then keep on keepn' on friends. Chatter on the net indicates that you are all doing fine and well which I am glad to hear. Congratulations to my friends Jeff and Brandon on becoming gainfully employed as official law enforcement officers. I'm sure Mike has been promoted to branch manager by now, and I know for a fact that Jason is rehabilitating 60+ year old men with tennis elbow sprains. Just kidding, but on a serious note I'm proud of all you guys. I talk about you all the time down here, just today someone at the Piggly-Wiggly saw my hat and asked me if I had played Bethpage Black and I had to explain how my college roommate somehow landed a sweet gig as a USGA intern.

Miss you guys and I hope all is well!!

What are you doing there?

Well across a couple states and over 700 miles here I am. It was an awesome trip and to be honest, I'm having a great time. Most of you have asked me what it is exactly I'm doing here. So, in order to answer your questions my official job title is Squad Tactical Officer or STO at the Bold Leaders Course that U.S. Army Cadet Command runs here at Fort Knox, KY. My primary role is to assess Cadets in the Reserve Officer Training Corps and determine whether or not they are fit to be future Army officers. I am paired with a drill instructor and am responsible for the graduation of 10 Cadets. The typical day is as follows:

0430-0500 Wake-up/Personal Hygiene
0500 Arrive at the Cadet's barracks before they wake up
0530-0630 PT with Cadets
0630-0730 Breakfast/Shower
0730-1200 This time is usually reserved for instruction. Sometimes led by myself, other Lieutenants, and Drill Sergeants.
1200-1300 "Lunch" In quotes, because I rarely get to eat lunch because I am usually filling out assessment cards and paperwork
1300-1700 More instruction time (Rifle Range/Obstacle Course/Land Nav/Rappelling? etc.
1700-1800 "Dinner" Once again, usually dinner is eat it as you can get it.
1800-2100 STO Time (Usually spent prepping the CDTs for the next day's training events and counseling individual CDTs on their daily performance)
2100-2200 Platoon Tactical Officer's Brief (A meeting with my boss and the other LTs in my platoon to recap the day, plan for the next one.

Usually I make it back to the barracks around 2300, shower, get training plans ready for the next day and shoot the breeze with the guys. Repeat process for 30days and there you have it.
I haven't/won't have time off until July 13th which is the day after the CDTs graduate. No weekends, no holidays, on call 24/7. The hours are long but honestly it is truly rewarding. I have gained an invaluable amount of learning experience from working alongside some of the finest commissioned and non-commissioned officers of the United States Army. It is truly humbling when you put everything in perspective. In essence I am charged with assessing future leaders of the Army and one day they may end up serving under me, along side of me, or even above me.

Well it's getting late here and I just thought I'd give you all a heads up. I am alive and well. My apologies if I haven't gotten a chance to call you but I really don't get much free time. I hope all is well and I miss you guys.

Graduation Post/Post Graduation

Well for most of us our time at Temple University is drawing to a close. It feels like only yesterday we were herded into the Liacouras Center for some overrated convocation ceremony. We arrived here at Temple as bright-eyed freshman with only our imaginations to limit our ambitions. We changed majors two, three, even four times. Added minors and other "interests" along the way. We did time in dormitory rooms in what now seem as though they were the size of prison cells. We moved off campus into overpriced lofts with sketchy security. Then we moved even further off campus into the great unknown spreading our reach across campus lines and into the local neighborhood and community.

Now, with freshman admitted born in 1991 and 1992, I feel in one sense as though I have worn out my welcome here, but yet another part of me still finds a desire to stay. However, I choose really not to look at it as our time at Temple really ending. We will always take Temple University with us wherever we choose to go in the near future. Sure, we're all graduating with different degrees in various fields, but it's not the diploma that makes us graduates.


It's really the lessons we learned in the classroom, in the city, and at home.
It's about how we learned to make the best of what's around.
The friendships that we forged, tested, and tried yet they remained true.
The time we spent in the libraries and computer labs not studying for tests and writing papers but rather investing in our future.
The countless nights and lazy afternoons we spent together figuring out who we really are.


These are only but a few of many things which qualify us as graduates.


We all chose to go to Temple for different reasons, but I believe we're all walking out the door for the same one. We are out to make the world a better place. Sure, it sounds cliche but I have never met a group of people so dedicated to service as you. It is my pleasure to say that I have had the fortune of meeting such motivated, intelligent, hard-working young men and women. I consider it a privilege to call you not only my college roommates and classmates, but rather I count each and everyone of you as my closest friends.


It is no secret that our generation is tasked with a difficult responsibility. We have to put back together the pieces of a puzzle that has all but fallen apart over the past decade. I surely don't have to be the one to tell you that our great Nation and world is in a tough spot. We all well aware of the global recession, multiple wars, disasters, and numerous other turmoils that everyday people face in the current national and global climate. But now is not the time for tears. It's a time for sweat, hard work, and good old-fashioned American resilience and ingenuity. Our generation is tasked with altering and ultimately righting the course of present affairs.


How we do it is up to us.


Whether you're going to be a nurse, doctor, police officer, communications-broadcaster, accountant, financial analyst, psychologist, service-member, or politician...remember always that we are still students first, never ceasing to learn from our mistakes and capitalize on our successes. Always be a student of life at large. Temple certainly did not teach us all the answers, but I feel the institution has prepared us with the tools and mechanisms required to discover solutions. Sometimes the answers to these questions won't be in the back of the book. There probably won't be a formula to validate our work. More than likely we won't be able check Blackboard to see how we did on the last test. We're going to have to look inside and evaluate ourselves and know at the end of the day that we made the right decisions.


I'm excited for us. I'm excited for the future. We bring to the table a certain tenacity and drive that is not only desired, but required in such challenging times. It is my honest and yet humble opinion that we have what it takes to overcome the obstacles that have fallen in the path of achieving a better world.

And so to you, Class of 2010, I choose not to salute you for the hard work and effort that you have put forth.

Rather I choose to pay tribute to you for all the hard work that you will carry out.


Certainly, we will be tested at times but I do believe we can overcome any obstacle with the utmost resolve and determination. It is in our nature as resilient Americans to rise to any challenge, look it square in the eye, and ultimately achieve greatness.


The legacy we leave here at Temple University is only that of which each of us chooses to leave. Whether we depart here leaving only part of ourselves, most of ourselves, or everything...it's all essentially meaningless. Meaningless in that fact that we will not be judged on the basis what we've accomplished here, but we will be judged according to what we achieve in life. These achievements which I speak of are not earthly or tangible. They are not able to be put into words. They are the basics that we should all aspire to. Living a good and meaningful life. Truly caring about your family, friends, and loved ones...because after everything is over, they'll be the only ones still there. Living life to the fullest of your ability.
The greatest impact that we will leave on Temple University is how we ultimately choose to utilize the knowledge, tools, and understanding that the institution has provided us with.


On a personal note, most of you have expressed at least some concern in regard to my imminent departure. Yes, it's true I'm leaving in a sense, but I'm not departing. As contradictory as it may seem, I really don't believe in good-bye speeches and tearful farewells. Rather, this farewell address is different. Not a goodbye or collection of highlights, but a reassurance that I'm really not leaving anyone. Life in the 21st century is great and no matter what, I'll never be more than a few plane rides away. It's really not as far as you may think.


For me, distance happens to be just a spatial concept, defined only by the boundaries that we emplace upon it.


I'll never forget the hometown where I grew up. I'll never forget the time I spent in Philadelphia. I'll certainly never overlook the importance of my family...to them I owe everything. I'll never forget you...my friends, either. You have all stuck with me through everything. I'd like to think more of this everything as being good than bad.


In the most sincere of ways, I wish each and every one of you the best in all of your future endeavors. I wish you all an abundance of good health and happiness. Go out and do amazing things, because I know you are all more than capable of achieving greatness.


Take care friends, I'll catch you all on the flip-side.

Sincerely,

Jarrett Buchanan

Onto the Next One...

Well friends, I sat down today and looked at a calendar and it seems as though my time here at Temple University is winding down. It seems like yesterday I skipped a day at Notre Dame and came down with my best friend for a college visit. I was a senior then and at the time things seemed so complicated, but looking back they were actually simplistic in nature. Today, life seems to move a lot faster, I really don't know where four years went. Sure I can tell you I studied a lot and made the grades, but the lessons that I value the most came from the people I met here, the situations we to get ourselves into, and how we somehow managed to get out of them. Luckily I never found myself in a jail cell next to my friends saying, "Man...we !#%@ed up."...but I will say there were a few occasions where we came close.

Sure, Temple puts a price on credit hours, but you really can't attach a monetary value to lessons you learn living in the city. You learn to look-out for your friends...learn to lock your bike with something stronger than a zip-tie...learn that fish that looks bad at the cafeteria probably is bad...learn that the trash-men will pickup and dispose of an entire mattress...learn that the police will be called and show if you decide to barricade your neighbor's door/steps/sidewalk completely with snow...you learn from the police that the four inch folding knife you carry with you everywhere is illegal but if you utilize it, just make sure you're justified...you find out that a dog will pee on a uniform that you just took out of the dryer and then leave a special gift for you in your adidas bag at the bottom of your closet...you learn that if your roommate has the door locked and is not answering, it's probably best to leave him/her alone or you'll get a case of beer thrown down the steps at your face, you may even see something you still can't erase from your memory...you learn that if you park in a lot and have a car alarm that continually goes off it will be professionally disabled by manually disconnecting it and letting the air out of all your tires...you find out that perhaps Chesapeake Bay Memorial Hospital may not exist after all...you may possibly come to conclusion that college may be the best damn time of your life.

I personally believe that I had a great time during college, but it's just the end of one chapter and the beginning of another page-turner.

For some the pages of the next chapter are still blank, others already have titles picked out, and yet others are still trying to go back and edit what they already wrote.

Me?

I'm not trying to go back and change anything or plan to win a Pulitzer Prize with my book, I'm just trying to make it a good read. Good enough so at the end, I can look back and say I did my best to be an honest, loyal, courteous, and respectable character.

I'll leave you with a high-school throwback:

...Because You Can't Take It With You

Now I must say that this is not my own but I came across this interesting article once and I found it to be thought provoking. It first appeared in a 1933 edition of Esquire magazine. Well without any further adieu...

A Pocket History of Milton J. Wurtleburtle

By: Robert D. Abrahams

Contents of His Pockets at Ten

1 watch, lacking a main spring.
1 report card, badly frayed and unpresented at home.
1 much damaged cigarette, unsmoked.
1 penknife.
1 rubber band, for use in sling-shot.
Remains of an exploded toy balloon.
2 marbles.
4 caps of milk bottles, won in competition
1 dirty handkerchief.
1 piece of chewing gum.
2 keys which do not fit locks.
7 pieces of string.

Contents of His Pockets at Twenty

1 cheap watch
1 one dollar bill and twenty-one cents in change.
1 letter on lavender stationery from a girl in Worcester, Massachusetts, signed with numerous “X’s.”
1 letter on mauve stationery from a girl in Cleveland, Ohio, signed with numerous “X’s.”
1 photograph of a beautiful girl who does not live in Worcester, Massachusetts or Cleveland, Ohio.
1 address book, containing nicknames and addresses only.
1 letter from the Dean of …….College, regretting the necessity of again calling attention to his deficiencies.
1 bank book, showing balance of $4.20.
1 pipe, marked with college class numerals.
1 tobacco pouch.
1 key to his own door.
1 fancy handkerchief for coat pocket.
1 pocket comb.

Contents of His Pockets at Thirty

1 gold watch with jeweled movements
1 roll of bills containing $84.00.
1 practical handkerchief and one fancy handkerchief in coat pocket.
The same picture of Mrs. Milton J. Wurtleburtle and both the children.
Membership card in Elks, Moose and nine other fraternal orders and clubs.
1 accountant’s statement of business of Milton J. Wurtleburtle & Co., showing net worth of business now high
1 letter from Jake Hesser from Colorado, saying Wurtleburtle can expect to hear great news from that mining proposition soon; all that is needed is capital.
1 circular, advertising hair restorer.
1 memorandum from wife to stop and buy new goldfish, the old ones having died.
1 bill from summer camp for children’s stay.
2 ten-cent cigars.
Several keys on ring, opening-
(a) his home door
(b) his office door
(d) his automobile tire lock and
(d) his safe deposit box

Contents of His Pockets at Fifty

1 watch, inscribed “To the Chief from Affectionate Employees of Milton J. Wurtleburtle & Company, on the Occasion of His 50th Birthday.”
1 roll of bills, held together with rubber band.
2 silk handkerchiefs and one for display.
1 picture of son in cap and gown.
1 picture of daughter in riding habit.
1 letter from son, asking for a little more money this month.
1 letter from daughter, saying she will be home after attending only four more out-of-town horse shows.
1 statement of accountant showing Milton J. Wurtleburtle & Co. has very large net worth this year.
1 spectacle case containing a pair of reading glasses.
Life membership cards of twenty-two different fraternal orders and clubs.
Letters from receivers of Colorado-Hesser Mines, Inc., stating it is doubtful whether stockholders will receive anything from wind-up of concern.
2 quarter cigars.
Numerous keys on ring, including-
(a) key to home door
(b) key to office door
(c) key to safe deposit box
(d) key to country club locker

Contents of His Pockets at 60

1 watch, inscribed as before, containing, in case, picture of three grandchildren.
1 roll of bills as before.
1 practical handkerchief.
7 additional pictures of three grandchildren.
1 letter confirming reservations for “Around the World Cruise” for Mr. and Mrs. Milton J. Wurtleburtle.
1 copy of tentative president’s report for submission to stockholders of Milton J. Wurtleburtle & Co., Inc., showing large dividends earned during the year.
1 bottle of liver pills.
1 spectacle case containing bifocal glasses.
1 recipe for cocktail, written by a friend.
Several keys on a ring, opening:
(a) his home door.
(b) his office door.
(c) his safe deposit box.

Contents of His Pockets at Seventy

1 watch, inscribed as before, containing, in case, picture of Mrs. Milton J. Wurtleburtle.
Roll of bills as before.
1 dirty handkerchief.
1 spectacle case with glasses and one spectacle case with magnifying glasses.
Letters from three grandchildren from three different colleges, thanking him for Christmas presents.
Letter from Edenwood Cemetery, acknowledging receipt of check for perpetual care of Mrs. Milton J. Wurtleburtle’s lot.
Letter of praise from Board of Directors of Milton J. Wurtleburtle & Co., Inc., on occasion of his retirement from active business.
Notice to report for jury service.
1 newspaper clipping, concerning grandsons playing as substitute end for Princeton.
Two keys on ring, opening-
(a) his home door.
(b) his safe deposit box.

Contents of His Pockets at 80

1 handkerchief in coat pocket carefully folded and placed there by the undertaker.

Goodmorning, Philadelphia.

Well as most of you know, I grew up in the suburbs outside of the great city of Philadelphia. It's almost hard to believe for four years I've called this place home. Well, not actually home, because that will always be Jones Blvd, but it's where I've spent the majority of my past four years. Some say you have to leave the city because it makes you hard. I'll be the first one to tell you that's not true. The city does start to grind on you a bit, the traffic, noise, trash and people all start to take their toll, but not necessarily in a bad way. It makes me appreciate home all that much more. Now I'm not blowing unicorns, leprechauns, and rainbows up the arse of the Lehigh Valley, but it was a nice place to grow up. However, living in the city you learn a lot about the city. I've compiled a list of things I've learned while living in Philly:

10. It's not a lawn chair, it's my spot.
You see, when the snow comes out so do random lawn chairs/road-cones/sawhorses. It's part of the unwritten code. A code that is to be followed and respected. Goddammit, I dug out this spot and you will not get it, even if it's over my dead body.

9. The sidewalk is your trashcan.
I am personally appalled at this practice but I still see it all the time. People that live in the city, especially in the more urban areas, totally disregard and/or are oblivious to the fact that there are trash cans on every corner. Instead, they usually opt to finish their can of Steel-Reserve and toss it in the gutter.

8. It doesn't matter what time you leave, the Schuylkill Expressway will be jammed.
Traffic in Philadelphia is the worst. It seems whenever you need to get somewhere in a hurry, there is an overturned tractor trailer at the Conshohocken Curve or the infamous phantom "disabled vehicle" that is blocking all westbound lanes. You never see it, but it's always holding you up. It sounds morbid, but if I'm sitting in traffic going nowhere I wanna see broken glass, flashing lights, and maybe hear an explosion or two.

7. Random Gun Violence.
This one never makes sense to me. If your going to shoot someone, it better be for a damn good reason. It has also come to my attention that most thugs that carry are poor shots. More often than not, it's poor little 6 year-old Lisa who's standing on the corner at 11'oclock at night that gets hit by some thug's stray jacketed hollow point. What little Lisa is doing on the corner at 11'oclock at night is a whole 'nother issue, but nonetheless, I digress.

6. Plan Alternate Routes.
This is especially true in the warmer, summer months. The time is soon approaching us when all the neighborhoods and wards in Philadelphia will be having their annual block parties. You'll be driving down the road trying to get to where your going and then BAM, the all too familiar PPD blue saw-horses are blocking your path. You think about going around them, but you realize that driving around the block is probably easier than running over the moonbounce the block rented for the occaision.

5. Septa.
Notoriously tardy and equally dirty. The filth is no fault of their own. It's kind of tough to keep the subway clean when a bum...err I mean vagrant, utilizes the rear of the car as their own personal latrine. Dear vagrants, please confine your bathroom practices to your usual stairwell areas, that way I don't have to ride for 20 minutes smelling your pee for the entire duration.

4. Sirens.
It has become somewhat of my urban lullaby. Going to sleep at night to the lonely wail of a police siren is now somewhat comforting. Growing up next to an EMS station, I was already somewhat used to it, but now more so than ever. That being said, it is equally comforting going to bed to rest after a long weekend and hearing your local bum root through your trash for aluminum cans. I mean hey, if you [bum] would like to root through my trash that's fine, but please there is no need to tear open the bags and leave banana peels and other rubbish strewn about the sidewalk. Allowing you to root through my trash is my privilege I give to you. Do not abuse it, or next time the trash is going out on Monday morning on my way to class.

3. Sticky Fingered Bartenders.
Yes, I surrender to your $4 bottles of miller lite. However Miss, this does not give you the right or the authority to just keep the five dollar bill I gave you. The beer was $4, therefore a simple subtraction calculation will give you the difference of 1. This number 1, represents the amount of dollars you owe me in change. I promise I will tip you, maybe even $2, if only you would give me my change first.

2. The Genuine Disregard for Personal Property.
Just because you drive an 1983 Oldmobile Cutloose piece of shit does not give you the right to clip someone's mirror and just keep driving. Granted, you probably do not have insurance let alone a valid license...common courtesy provides one with the inclination of the feeling that maybe that was wrong. In addition, the "Philly Bump" is equally disturbing. For those unaware, this is the practice of ever so gently "feeling" your way into a parallel parking spot. More often than not, the "feel" becomes somewhat more of a full frontal assault on your bumper. Please, when you think your close enough to my bumper, you probably are. There is no need to make actual, physical contact with my vehicle, thanks.

1. A Lack of Quality Parenting.
On a serious note, this is one of the most disturbing qualities I find in urban youth. Yea okay, your dad might not be around or your mom may have abandoned you but shit, that doesn't mean you can wander the streets taking your aggressions out by causing trouble. It starts with your parents. If you're missing one, okay...drive on. It's a sad story, I get it, I really do. I do feel for these kids but at some point you know, regardless of what your parents may have taught you, what's wrong and what's right.

It was in no particular order, but there it is. It's not a gripe list either. I like living in the city, I really do. I often tell my classmates I would not want to go to school anywhere else. It's what makes the city, well...the city. Maybe soon I'll write my list of things I love about this city, but until then I leave you with an annex of nuances and annoyances.

Take care Philadelphia, and I'll see you in about 10mins, when I leave the friendly confines of my bedroom.

Long Overdue and Going Nowhere in Particular

No, the title of this blog has nothing to do with my life-plan (I refuse to believe that life is something that can be analyzed and planned accordingly, it's just not possible.)

I sat down today and realized that I haven't blogged in a while. I decided to just start writing and see where the words would take me.

So here I am in 2010, I can honestly say that, life is good.

Anyone who knows me understands that I use this phrase often, maybe too often, but it really helps me to put things in perspective. I really am lucky to have the things I have in life, good-health, family, and friends are the things that I am thankful for and value the most. Despite all of this, I really can't believe how fast life gets.

The minutes seem like seconds and the hours move like minutes.

If you're my friends reading this, which most of you are, I really do value the time we spend together because to be quite honest and up-front, we really don't have much of it left together. I'm not saying we won't be able to spend time in the future, because I'm positive that we will, but life is only going to get even crazier and hectic. All of us have a bright future ahead. Grad-school, teaching and law-enforcement jobs, med-school...these are only a few of the opportunities that await us. And still others have already made their start. The dinners, the lazy afternoons, trips to the city, the parties, the gaming sessions...it's all time that I wouldn't spend any other way.

My friends are: getting older, getting married, promoted, and are graduating. Some are starting families of their own.

My friends are: moving away...going home to get back on their feet...awaiting orders...living the dream...going back to school...studying abroad


My friends are: going to be nurses, police officers, business gurus & financial czars, doctors, lieutenants, speech therapists, psychologists, lawyers, permanent students, writers, teachers, only to name a few.

My friends are: getting older.

My friends are: literally, out to save the world.

I can honestly say that I'm proud of each and everyone of you guys (gender-neutral of course).

Well, I'll keep this one short and leave you with a quote from one of my favorite movies:

"Life moves pretty fast. You don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it. "