Dude! I love that photo!

Back in the old place on Linwood. Sweeeeet.Dude! I love that photo!

Back in the old place on Linwood. Sweeeeet.

When I wrote Finders Keepers, one of my goals was to talk about the underbelly of backpacking. No doubt, my trip through Europe was one of the best times I?ve ever had. I went places I had never even considered visiting, I met people I never would have met otherwise, and it taught some things about myself I don?t know I would have learned had I not gone.

But the trip wasn?t always easy. Far from it. Backpacking is hard work?physically, psychologically and emotionally. It takes preparatioWhen I wrote Finders Keepers, one of my goals was to talk about the underbelly of backpacking. No doubt, my trip through Europe was one of the best times I?ve ever had. I went places I had never even considered visiting, I met people I never would have met otherwise, and it taught some things about myself I don?t know I would have learned had I not gone.

But the trip wasn?t always easy. Far from it. Backpacking is hard work?physically, psychologically and emotionally. It takes preparation, stamina and flexibility, among other things.

There?s one day in particular I remember. I was coming up on one of my last days in Budapest, and I wanted to go back to a health I spa I had gone to a few days earlier with some friends I met. But since I didn?t know the city all that well, and I was coming down with what turned out to be the flu, I just couldn?t find the place again. For all I know I was around the corner from it, but my efforts just didn?t pay off.

But I didn?t want the day to go to waste, so I wound up climbing this pretty steep hill (the name of which I can?t remember; although it was sorta famous for Budapest), and at the top it offered the most spectacular view of the city. And at the time I remember thinking?who am I kidding, I was talking to myself out loud?that had I begged off because the climb was difficult, I would have missed out something amazing. That putting in the extra effort really paid off.

After that tough hike I insisted for myself that I would keep that attitude through the rest of my days?a little extra effort goes a long way. I meant it when I said it; I saw the results of my efforts.

But it just didn?t stick. That is to say, it was inconsistent and faded over time. It?s like when I would get bursts of determination every now and again about working out. Maybe I?d see some Abflex commercial or watch Rocky or some martial arts movie and think?okay, this is it. I?m totally getting into shape this time. For real. Totally. And then I?d work out for like one day, maybe two, and then I?d be back to doing nothing.

Back then?about 13 years ago?I wasn?t in a place where a lot of my life lessons were taking hold, especially those that had to do with personal growth. I was making some progress, but not nearly as much as I would have liked. For now I?ll chalk it up to some earlier struggles with maturity and responsibility?elements I also deal with in Finders Keepers.

Let?s fast forward to today, and a phrase that has become integral for me, thanks to one of my heroes, Zig Ziglar. He says that the price of success is far less expensive than the price of failure. When I first heard those words I though, ?Wow. That?s amazing.?

[i]The price of success is far less expensive than the price of failure.[/i]

And this time it stuck.

When my alarm goes off at 5 am it?s almost inevitable that I?ll mumble and grumble to myself about how much I hate doing this and why in the world do I need to get myself up at ungodly this hour. Even when I?m physically out of bed it sometimes takes me a few minutes of griping about how exhausted I am that I finally remind myself that I don?t get up at 5 am because I think it?s fun, thrilling or easy. And I don?t do it just to show that I can. I do it because if I don?t, then I have a much tougher go of it finding the time to write my books or develop my web site or get published.

Putting in the extra effort?in this way?helps me get what I want.

Zig also says again and again that consistent achievement won?t be easy, but if we stick to it, we significantly increase or chances for success.

So those words echo in my mind:

[i]The price of success is far less expensive than the price of failure.[/i]

What I realize now is that Zig?s words allude to a layer that my earlier thoughts?a little extra effort goes a long way?don?t quite reach. For me, Zig?s words suggest that there?s more than what you get if you put in some extra effort. To me, his words?the price of success is far less expensive than the price of failure?also implies that there?s something we might lose or forgo?whether spiritually, financially or otherwise?if we don?t put in the extra effort. It?s more than the potential upside if we put in that extra effort, but the potential downside if we don?t.

By putting in the extra effort, we allow for the increased possibility of growth and achievement in many ways, but by not putting in that extra effort, we can sell ourselves short. We deny ourselves the opportunity to become more than we are at that moment.

This isn?t to say that I always put in that extra effort. I don?t. But I do it more often than I ever did before, because I appreciate how my life improves when I do, and how I feel like I?m sagging when I don?t.

[i]The price of success is far less expensive than the price of failure.[/i]

Those words echo in my mind. I can hear them right now.

Opening Day of the 2007 baseball season is tomorrow … okay, I’m trying to control my breathing … slow … slow … slow …

As part of my annual ritual, I’ve been knee deep in research the last few weeks for the fantasy baseball leagues I’m in. Tonight, I’m doing one league with my dad, and tomorrow morning I’ve got another with my dad and his friend. Plus I’m running a less intensive office league too! So, indeed, I’m ready to get my baseball on.

I still have a little review homeOpening Day of the 2007 baseball season is tomorrow … okay, I’m trying to control my breathing … slow … slow … slow …

As part of my annual ritual, I’ve been knee deep in research the last few weeks for the fantasy baseball leagues I’m in. Tonight, I’m doing one league with my dad, and tomorrow morning I’ve got another with my dad and his friend. Plus I’m running a less intensive office league too! So, indeed, I’m ready to get my baseball on.

I still have a little review homework to do this afternoon, but I’m basically on information overload, so it’ll be nice to let some of the steam out of my head once this weekend’s over …

And, oh yeah … the actual games!

I’ve been a sports fan my entire life, but I’m a baseball guy through and through. I could watch games 12 months of the year if they played the seasons that way. But baseball is a summer sport. Outdoors. Sunshine.

Ahhhhh …. nice.

It’s about time.

At this point I think I would be remiss if I didn’t take an extra minute to give an extra hearty thanks to Mike Lunsford, who has been contributing mightily to the Finders Keepers Web site. All you have to do is check out his illustrations, and you’ll see what I mean. I gave you the background already on Mike during the intro of the Character Illustrations page, but I want to take just another minute or two.

During the writing process I had idea in my head–images–that reflected my vision At this point I think I would be remiss if I didn’t take an extra minute to give an extra hearty thanks to Mike Lunsford, who has been contributing mightily to the Finders Keepers Web site. All you have to do is check out his illustrations, and you’ll see what I mean. I gave you the background already on Mike during the intro of the Character Illustrations page, but I want to take just another minute or two.

During the writing process I had idea in my head–images–that reflected my vision of Finders Keepers, like a movie. To me, the characters I wrote about were as real as you and me. I lived in their heads and their hearts. While I was writing those characters, I [i]was[/i] those characters. When they were nervous, I was nervous. When they were excited, so was I. That’s how I write. I can’t just do it from my head. I have to feel what they feel.

There’s a school of thought that says that the best thing about writing–about books–is that the reader gets to envision their own versions of the characters they way they see them. Sure, the writer paints the picture, but each reader interprets the words differently. Fair enough. As a reader, I feel the same way.

As a writer, I try to describe the characters the best I can, and let the readers come away with whatever they do. And if they see the characters differently than I do, well, so be it. It’s not my place to tell anyone how they should interpret what I write. That’s up to them. That’s a part of what makes reading so special, so … personal.

So in this sense, I agree with the classic stance.

But I’m also a comic book guy. I love comic books because they meld the literary aspect of the creative process with the visual arts–and it’s still on paper.

When it came time to creating this Web site, I wanted to bring that visual sense to Finders Keepers, which makes a great deal of sense, given that I intentionally wrote Finders Keepers, in many ways, as it was a comic book. Interlocking story lines. Flashbacks. Cliffhanger chapter endings. I got most of this from reading comic books.

And this is where the illustrations come in, and, getting back to my original point, Mike Lunsford. As I noted on my character illustration intro page, I sorted through more than 100 illustrators before I found someone whose style matched what was in my head. Mike has done a great job of bringing my characters to life in a new way. He interpreted my design instructions through his palette.

There’s now only two more illustrations to go before Mike is through. His contributions are significant. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do.

Last weekend I went to a family reunion. And when I say family reunion, I mean FAMILY reunion. I’ll explain.

About 10 years ago I was walking through Chinatown for reasons I can’t remember, and wound up passing by a temple–quite randomly, I thought at the time–that was founded by the Colchamiro family.

Another strange thing happened to me a few years back. I was in a local pharmacy picking up my prescription, and when the pharmacist asked for my name, I said "Colchamiro,"Last weekend I went to a family reunion. And when I say family reunion, I mean FAMILY reunion. I’ll explain.

About 10 years ago I was walking through Chinatown for reasons I can’t remember, and wound up passing by a temple–quite randomly, I thought at the time–that was founded by the Colchamiro family.

Another strange thing happened to me a few years back. I was in a local pharmacy picking up my prescription, and when the pharmacist asked for my name, I said "Colchamiro," and started to spell it. A woman standing next to me was giving me the crazy eye just then. She asked me if she heard the name right. Colchamiro. I wasn’t sure if she was a stalker or just a nutball, but reluctantly I confirmed what she heard.

She then went on to tell that she, too, is a Colchamiro (since married with a different last name), and that she had drifted away from the family over the years. She was my dad’s first cousin. She remembered him. And as it turned out, she lived right around the corner from me. But I wound up losing her number and couldn’t remember her married name, so we lost touch before we could connect again.

I had always hoped I’d run into her again, just I had meant to check out the temple. I never did. Until now. On both counts.

The Colchamiro family is just one big family in that, there aren’t various family originations that just happen to share a common family name. If you meet a Colchamiro anywhere in the world, that’s a relative of mine. We’re all connected.

That said, over the generations the family split off into many wings, and while the Colchamiros tend to be sort of clan-like in general, the uber family has been extremely disjointed.

Along the way, a few select relatives decided that it was time to reach out to the family at large, and try and bring us all together. It was really something. We all met at that very temple in Chinatown. More than 200 people showed up, from the very senior citizen all the way down to newborn babies. We weren’t all Colchamiros, some had gotten married and changed the family name, but the blood lines were there.

I saw a few relatives I hadn’t seen in years–including my dad’s cousin, who has since moved to Queens not ten minutes from me! Amazing. All in all, it was a really good day. There we were, all packed into this old temple that could barely hold us, but it did. We made room.

Going forward, I don’t know the Colchamiros will come together, but this was sure a great first step.

I finally got back into Y: The Last Man. Just finished the 4th trade paperback, and am all set with to read No. 5. I had forgotten what a fun book it is.I finally got back into Y: The Last Man. Just finished the 4th trade paperback, and am all set with to read No. 5. I had forgotten what a fun book it is.

More and more I?m finding that there is tremendous power in responsibility?and in the word ?responsibility.? I?m not talking about that Spiderman quote, ?with great power, comes great responsibility,??which is true?but the idea of accepting ownership of our roles, whether they be personal or professional.

On a personal note, when I agree to call the accountant or put away the laundry or pick up our prescriptions from the pharmacy, what I?m really telling Liz is that she doesn?t need to put More and more I?m finding that there is tremendous power in responsibility?and in the word ?responsibility.? I?m not talking about that Spiderman quote, ?with great power, comes great responsibility,??which is true?but the idea of accepting ownership of our roles, whether they be personal or professional.

On a personal note, when I agree to call the accountant or put away the laundry or pick up our prescriptions from the pharmacy, what I?m really telling Liz is that she doesn?t need to put any energies into making sure that I do what I say I will do. And in that, it also implies that Liz should feel free to focus her time and energies elsewhere, and that if I run into any kind of problems along the way, that I will either resolve the problems myself or else ask for help. But either way, I agree to take care of it.

Beyond that, I find that when I say the words, ?I accept this responsibility,? the task?picking up the prescriptions, for instance?suddenly becomes more important to me. There?s an issue of pride, of self-respect?and of accountability. If I take the attitude of, ?sorry, honey. Totally spaced. I?ll get to it later,? I?ve prevented Liz from getting what she needs, and what she could have done had we agreed otherwise.

And then there?s a credibility issue. If I want her to take me at my word, I have to honor my word by doing what I say I will do, when I say I will do it, and how. Of course, we can?and often should?forgive each other for our minor trespasses, but if you say out loud to someone that you accept the ?responsibility? of completing a certain task?picking up the prescription?I bet you?ll feel differently than if you simply say that you?ll do it.

I?m not trying to heap more importance onto these daily tasks than they merit, but my point is that the word ?responsibility? contains a great deal of power, and can be wonderfully intoxicating if you accept the actual responsibility that comes with the word ?responsibility.?

On the work front, part of my commitment to the people I supervise is to teach them?to the best of my ability?how to become more autonomous. And a big part of that?of being able to function more effectively with minimal help and/or supervision?is teaching and illustrating to them the value of responsibility, and what that means. Especially with the younger staff, but even with some of the more senior members as well, I?m realizing that I hadn?t been advising them quite as well as I could have.

When I explain to them in detail about what tasks are their responsibility, and which ones aren?t, they often get that deer-in-the-headlights look at first, but seem to embrace the idea not long after.

As an example, I?ve been telling the staff, individually and collectively, that if they agree to do something?say, hand in one of their stories by their assigned deadline, but for whatever reason can?t?it is their responsibility to tell me about it as far in advance as possible, and that they need to figure out how to resolve the problem on their own, or else ask for help. I used to tell them that they ?needed? to tell me if they were going to be late, that they ?needed? to resolve the problem if one arose.

Now I say that it is their ?responsibility.?

That single tweak in language, that single word change … it makes all the difference.

There is real power in the word ?responsibility.? Try it out. See how it fits, and then let me know what you think.

Responsibility. It?s quite a word.

Yesterday morning turned out to be quite the little adventure.

After a month or so of taking care of the paperwork and registration and whatnot, Liz and I finally came into a used car, courtesy of my in-laws. The last step was to get the car inspected. We had an appointment for 8:30 a.m. Saturday morning.

But let’s back up a day. A friend of mine is in from out of town, and it being Friday night, well … the usual mayhem ensued. In total we hit three or four bars (I can’t remember)Yesterday morning turned out to be quite the little adventure.

After a month or so of taking care of the paperwork and registration and whatnot, Liz and I finally came into a used car, courtesy of my in-laws. The last step was to get the car inspected. We had an appointment for 8:30 a.m. Saturday morning.

But let’s back up a day. A friend of mine is in from out of town, and it being Friday night, well … the usual mayhem ensued. In total we hit three or four bars (I can’t remember), and by night’s end I was pretty sloshed. Also remember that Friday night we had that horrible weather, so getting back to Queens from Manhattan was a bit of an adventure. I got into bed around 12:30 a.m.

When my alarm went off at 6:30 Saturday morning, I think it’s fair to say that I wasn’t even close to being in the mood to deal with the inspection. I was hung over. Bad. I dragged myself out of bed anyway, showered, changed, had a quick breakfast and then bundled up. Because outside the parking lot–and our car–was covered in ice.

It took me a good 15 minutes to chisel the car out as it warmed up, but I finally got the windows clear. Naturally, the tires were dug in so deep that they couldn’t get any traction, so I had to dig them out as well. Finally, we got going.

Liz and I are still learning Queens, so we didn’t know the best way to get to the mechanic, so we relied on MapQuest. And if you’re wondering, yes … that was our first mistake. The directions were kinda right, as long as you don’t count that they had us going the wrong way on a one-way street, in the ice and snow. We know the area a little bit, so we finagled our way through until finally we found our way.

Even after all that, we were only five minutes late, so things were starting to look up.

Except that when we pulled up, the guy out front was shoveling now. I said that we were here for the inspection. He said no inspections today. The machines are frozen. Needless to say I was less than thrilled. He said sorry. Yeah. Like that was going to help me.

And yet here’s where those little bits of kismet come together. I scolded the guy a bit for not calling us to let us know there would be no appointment. He suggested that we try the Sonoco next door, which we did. It was a pretty creepy place.

There’s that really bizarre scene in Pulp Fiction when Bruce Willis finds himself in the hands of Zed and his very icky buddy. And we all know what happened after that. This gas station was a lot like that. One country song after another playing on the radio, all about Jesus. The place was dirty and creepy. The guy running the place was dirty and creepy too. He was big and fat with a thick scraggly beard that looked like it hadn’t been washed in months. He was wearing a ratty, oily mechanics jump suit with rips in the side. He barely spoke.

But they did the inspection right away and we were done in less than 30 minutes. Thing is, if the other mechanic from the first place had actually done the right thing and called us to cancel the appointment, Liz and I probably would have stayed home, leaving us to deal with the inspection another day. So how about that?

On the way home we actually found a quick way back–only took a few minutes–so bite me Map Quest!

It was a goofy morning indeed, and despite the snow and ice, we were back–with an inspected car–by 9:30. All in all, not too bad. Not too bad at all.

Last night Liz and I saw Talk Radio on Broadway. Liev Schreiber was in the lead, and he was absolutely great. Just great. Talk Radio originally kicked off around 1987. It was written by Eric Bogosian, who played the original lead. He also reprised the role in the movie version, which was directed by Oliver Stone. I haven’t seen the movie in many years, but that was quite good too.

Talk Radio is about fictional radio shock jock Barry Champlain (Schreiber) who had a night time talk show inLast night Liz and I saw Talk Radio on Broadway. Liev Schreiber was in the lead, and he was absolutely great. Just great. Talk Radio originally kicked off around 1987. It was written by Eric Bogosian, who played the original lead. He also reprised the role in the movie version, which was directed by Oliver Stone. I haven’t seen the movie in many years, but that was quite good too.

Talk Radio is about fictional radio shock jock Barry Champlain (Schreiber) who had a night time talk show in Cleveland during the late 1980s. Think of an angrier Howard Stern who’s heavy into politics. His views are extreme–and hilarious–and the play unfolds over one night on the air. So it’s mostly a one-man-show, and again, Schreiber is fantastic.

Highly recommended.

Before I officially launched this Web site two weeks ago, I compiled the email list of people I wanted to contact. I decided that I was going to tell everybody on earth that I knew about my Web site, and would let them decide if they were interested or not. I included friends and family, some co-workers, some people I used to work with. And I also scoured my old email databases and found some names that surprised me, including a few people I?d lost touch with over the years, for whatever reason.Before I officially launched this Web site two weeks ago, I compiled the email list of people I wanted to contact. I decided that I was going to tell everybody on earth that I knew about my Web site, and would let them decide if they were interested or not. I included friends and family, some co-workers, some people I used to work with. And I also scoured my old email databases and found some names that surprised me, including a few people I?d lost touch with over the years, for whatever reason.

One of those people?someone I used to work with?is a guy I?ll call Jeff. We first met about 10 years ago when I was a staff reporter and he was in the accounting department. We hit it off pretty much right away. Jeff and I both liked books, we were Yankee fans and shared a similar sense of humor. We?d chat throughout the day and go out for drinks now and then. And he was a big fan of my writing, even back then. He thought I had real promise, and was very encouraging. He was in my corner; I was in his.

And then ? I started to realize that while Jeff had a lot of good qualities?he was loyal and honest, smart and funny, and just a decent person overall?he was also a bit toxic. I discovered in him an inner bitterness I hadn?t picked up on right away. Jeff was an optimist ? sometimes. But he could be quite negative at times (can?t we all?), which didn?t bother me so much at first, except that I started to feel weird sort of tug. As the next year or two went on I got the very real sense that while he wanted me to succeed at work and with my writing, he also kinda didn?t want me to succeed [i]too[/i] much. I was trying to get better as a journalist, at writing fiction, but I got the sense that he liked our friendship just as it was, and wanted to hold it in place. Boxed in.

It was bizarre. He would read some of my stories and tell me he liked them, but then in the same breath trash parts of them as if my writing missteps?as he saw them?were obvious, and I obviously should have seen them myself, and that I should be scolded for not noticing sooner.

I know it?s difficult sometimes to describe the nuances in a relationship so that someone else can get it, so I?ll just say that I didn?t like the way I started to feel when I was around Jeff. I felt a little ? guilty. Punished. Ashamed.

This got me upset. At times I felt betrayed by Jeff because he wasn?t being the person I thought I knew. Sometimes I would get angry when I thought about him. Sometimes I?d get frustrated. And other times I?d be disappointed or even sad. And then I went through times of feeling guilty about how I felt, like[i] I [/i]was betraying [i]Jeff [/i]for not thinking of him in the same light I once did. I was blaming myself for abandoning Jeff! This wasn?t good.

So as the years went on I talked to him less and less, and finally, about five years ago, I decided to move on. It had been about six months since we?d been in contact, and when I thought about reaching out to him ? I didn?t. And quite honestly, I didn?t miss him at all.

Somewhere along the line, though, something occurred to me that helped put my Jeff situation in perspective. Deep down I blamed Jeff for not being the friend I wanted, for not being the person I wanted. But that?s on [i]me[/i]. My expectations simply were not in line with reality. I wanted to Jeff to be the person that I wanted him to be, rather than accepting him for the person he really was. I didn?t like admitting this, but a big part of my unpleasant feelings about Jeff had nothing to do with Jeff. They had everything to do with me. Once I accepted my own responsibility?took ownership of my part of the relationship?my guilt and frustration went away immediately.

I simply accepted that Jeff is Jeff. Good, bad, right, wrong or indifferent. He is who he is. And either there was a place in my life for Jeff or there wasn?t. For a long time I decided there wasn?t.

Fast forward to two weeks ago and I found Jeff?s email in my address book. It had been about five years since we last had contact and so I thought, oh, what the heck? Sometimes two people just need a break from each other, so I?ll include Jeff on my email list, and maybe it will be better now. That?s even if Jeff responds.

He did. Which I thought was very cool.

But within reading the first two sentences of Jeff?s email, there he was again, being harsh and critical without my even asking. The same feelings kicked up in me again, like I was tainted, being dragged back down in the mud. It was the same old Jeff. And that old Jeff isn?t a bad person overall, he?s just not a good person for me to have in my life.

So I won?t be contacting Jeff again.

This time around I accept Jeff for Jeff. I wish him well. But his journey will have to unfold without me in it, just as mine will unfold without him.

Sometimes old friends just can?t be new friends. And sometimes, maybe it?s better that way.