Goodbyes Suck

Family isn't about whose blood you have. It's about who you care about.
Trey Parker and Matt Stone, South Park, Ike's Wee Wee, 1998

That quote is featured prominently in bumper sticker fashion on my friends' Bruce and Sarah Michalski's refrigerator. I have been close to these wonderful people for years, along with their fantastic daughter Kate, mainly thanks to community theater. Bruce used to direct youth productions in which I appeared, the first being as a skunk in "Winnie the Pooh." (insert your joke here)

Theater taught me so much in the way of improvisation, poise and self confidence. But Bruce taught me about humanity. His wife taught me about humor. The two became like older siblings to me, especially when we would all perform together. The last show we all did together was December 2005.

It would be the last.

Bruce died last week at age 50.

I cannot explain the hole I have in my heart for someone who technically isn't my blood family. I only know that I have been blessed to have had these people in my life. Because of these tremendous times, I suppose that is why the pain runs so deep.

When I was hired at WNCX, Bruce was so proud. He and his wife shepherded me through the loss of my last job. They promised me that I would land on my feet and that they would be there for me until I did.

Bruce would always email me, jokingly of course, that we needed to play "more Floyd." I haven't been able to listen to Pink Floyd this week without an ache in the pit of my stomach.

I know Bruce is in a better place, out of pain. Still my friend, I "Wish You Were Here."

Tell your family, blood or not, how much they mean to you. You'll never regret it.

Rise Up? WAKE UP!

I have not wanted to write about the Cavs for awhile. You know my feeling about jinxes. I may not believe in them, yet I attribute our failures in sports to them. Contradictory? Yep. Hypocritical? Mmm hmm.

So it should come as no surprise that, while I didn't think we would take a game in San Antonio, I am having a tough time understanding why Mike Brown couldn't come up with the necessary adjustments to at least be in Game 2 on Sunday. Completely contradictory.

We can believe and hope and pray and shop and shout "RISE UP" at each other on the streets and at TV cameras all we want. Until the Cavs decide to WAKE UP, there's little we as fans can do, and I hate that. And as upset and frustrated as I am with this team, I will believe and hope and pray and shop and shout until the last tick comes off the clock. And I will be in front of the TV tonight as the Cavs try to right the ship and shake the tag they have earned as the worst team to ever make the finals.

The worst?

Come on.

And even if it's true, those national noodleheads aren't allowed to say it.

But we are.