we all have it –you must have it. the daily routine of life is like a well-worn path that we follow every day. it keeps us sane, it keeps us out of trouble, it keeps us alive. we do it without thinking –we embrace each part of it. it is not a complete line every day –but small bits and pieces that we go to for comfort and sanity. it might be strongest in the morning –where you just follow along half asleep –or it might peak in the evening –pushing you towards sleep time. events of the day take us off the routine –and that is wanted and embraced as well -we don’t want to get bored to death. we do always get pulled back to parts of a routine –wake-up, shower, kids off, breakfast, coffee, emails –work -work -work -work –then go home, dinner, kids in bed, tv, read, sleep. we need these bits of routine after a long vacation too. you love vacation and getting out of routine –but then you long for that old routine –you don’t want to vacation all the time –you would get thrown off your course, you would fall out of moderation and into excess. you need routine, you need moderation to reach your goals, to get to the end of the road in one piece, to live longer, to help your kids. you need it, don’t deny it, embrace it!
Author: Tyler Toby
being mean
i am beginning to believe that this is all part of human nature. we don’t want to be mean –it just happens. and most of the time it happens in our own mind –so the rest of the world doesn’t even hear us being mean or they rarely know that we are being mean. you see someone or hear someone saying something–and your mind quickly goes into action –and sometimes the thoughts that come into your mind are mean and critical thoughts about that person –it might even be “that was a stupid thing to do –what a dope”. but most of the time you don’t say it aloud. so the reality is we are all mean to other people at some point or another –and this is due to human nature and to your experiences in life. it could be as simple as bad manners. you were brought up with the best manners, for example, and you see someone chewing with their mouth open –and you immediately go to mean thoughts in your mind –but you do not say anything. this is the most common example of being mean –you say these mean thoughts in your mind and the only thing you need to worry about is your self-guilt for saying these things. you tell yourself–“don’t think those mean things about people –be a better person”. the 2nd phase is the hard one –where you think mean thoughts and then you say them aloud –immediately altering the image of yourself in the eyes of others. they start to think –“that is a mean person” –and thus your reputation as a mean person grows and you soon find yourself alone or hanging out with other mean people. this is the hardest thing to master –almost to the point of changing your personality a bit. if you are a hyper person like i am, then your mind races faster than your mouth and sometimes things slip out –because you want to make your comment right away –you often skip the part of making sure the comment is a good one to say aloud. i do this all the time–at least once a week–where i say a stupid comment and think to myself –oh, shit! –did i just say a mean comment aloud. but i have made some progress –i do find myself going through the comments in my mind and then skipping over them and not saying them aloud –knowing that they would hurt someone. but i am not out of the woods yet –it must come with older age –where patience sets in and you begin to understand that it is better to listen most of the time rather than speak all the time. each close call i have makes me think more about this process. i need to slow down a bit and have fewer missteps -i need to practice more.
family first
this is a bitch of a topic! i mean– my first and only approach in this area is to always put family first in everything you do. which you should always do. plus, you should always never judge family and always take the high road when it comes to family. at the end of the day –all you will have left is family –whether that is good or bad–it is the simple fact. you do not want to cause conflict with your family and you need to bite your tongue with your family –after all this is your family. the same family that you grew up with or the same family that you raised. there was a time in the beginning where you looked on to your family members with eyes of adoration. you looked at your baby or you looked at your mother with complete eyes of loyalty and devotion. you looked at your brother or you looked at your sister with love and affection. you used to laugh with your family, you used have fun with your family –back in the times of innocence and fresh starts. you never thought those days would end, you never thought conflict would arise, you never thought people would change. but things do change and phases of life come and go –and conflict can occur in family. this is when this concept will be tested –this concept of “family first”. do you take the high road if you have been wronged by family? do you never judge your family when judgement is called into question? do you forgive every time? we will all be challenged by family member actions. what do you do? you want your sister to call you after a fight because you think it was her fault. this leads to a rift developing –one that might never be healed. but, don’t play this BS game–call her up –take the high road each time and stop the rift. make family first because it is the right thing to do –it will make you a better person in the long run. the long-time love bond of family is always there –but sometimes you forget. put family first unless a crime has been committed. in that case, this concept goes out the window. they then become strangers and are no longer family.
control
i know it is hard, but we need to try and control people less. when you try to control the actions of another person so that they fit the mold in your mind –only trouble can come from it. if it is in your nature to control things –you need to break away from this natural inclination when it comes to people you love. do not try to control them –let them figure things out for themselves because they do know what is the right thing to do –without you trying to tell them all the time or control them all the time. you love them for many things that do not need control –and then you try to control a few things that you want changed, etc. stop doing this. i know it is hard to break these habits that have formed in your mind. you see an ideal in your mind and you want to live by that ideal and you want others to live by your ideal as well. though it might be a good ideal –you might turn it into a negative ideal when you try to control folks. ease back a bit and let things happen naturally. if they love you, then they will try to please you by trying to live up to your ideal –just like you will try to live up to their ideals. this is the way you create balance in a relationship. try to live up to each other’s ideals, but do not push and try to control things to reach these ideals. a balance can be achieved if the understanding that each will try without control. get it? everything is a work in progress –so start slow. that’s what I do.
the gut
is what it is all about. You live by it, you die by it. If your gut says do this or do that – then do it. The gut will not steer you wrong- it will steer you right. You must listen to the gut, it is the truth, it is the only truth in your life. If you don’t listen to your gut then you will make mistakes in life. Sometimes the gut can actually speak out of your mouth. You will feel something from the gut first and then you will speak the thought of the gut. When this happens, you know the gut is right and you must listen to exactly what you are saying because you are really saying this to yourself. And of course you know yourself better than anyone or anything. And if you don’t listen to what you are saying to yourself, then you might as well not listen to anything. The trick is getting in tune with your gut. You have to figure out when your gut is telling you something. It will always be there in the background of every feeling and every action in life and most of the time it doesn’t have to shout- you make the right choice without a wake up call. But then every so often, you need to be shouted at if something is not right – hey wake up and make a change because whatever you are doing is not cool with the gut, and if it is not cool with the gut, then you are in trouble- so listen to your gut and get out of trouble.
keep kids safe
you know –life is dangerous –very dangerous –and it is a miracle that we make it to adulthood. so, how do you keep your kids safe? well –you can’t look at every little thing –but you can look at 3 main areas. It is a simple approach, but you must be vigilant. 3 things to be paranoid about to keep your kids safe — watch out for cars, watch out for strangers and watch out for drowning. if you can be proactive in these 3 areas –chances are your kids will be safe overall. oh–and tell your kids about these 3 things all the time –keep them at the top of their mind. don’t freak them out, but make them very aware. yeah, i know it is simple and obvious –but it ain’t obvious unless you pay attention and let the kids know of these areas. get it?
motivation
Money should not motivate you. You must want to do something because you like doing this something. This is where true motivation comes from –from doing something you like and want to do. This is how you will achieve what you want to achieve –whether it is a small something or big something –the motivation must be real and connected to your willingness to want to do this thing. It cannot come from wanting to reap the benefits of doing this thing. These things are not real –they are wishes of material objects –these are not the true motivators –these are only what comes from achieving something through true motivation. Do not motivate yourself to get these material things –only motivate yourself to achieve a task –and only do this because you like or want to do this –and that you like the feeling of succeeding when doing this task. It is only then that you will achieve everything you desire, including material objects. Get it?
ireland
The people in Ireland are great. I should know, I now have in-laws who live there. I also have 10 nieces and nephews who call me Uncle T. Yes, that’s right – I married an Irish girl. In fact, the day I arrived in Ireland in 1993 I met my future wife. She was the girlfriend of one of the Irish brothers. The Irish brothers were 2 lads I met during the summer of 1989. I left the Florida heat to work at an old resort deep in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. There, I would meet about 30 Irish college students, 2 of which I would become very good friends. At the end of the summer, I told the lads I’d see them when I got out of college. That is exactly what I did. Once graduated, I saved up my money and headed out to explore the world, starting with Ireland, a place where most Americans claim to have an ancestral connection.
I’ll never forget that day when I stepped off the plane with my Florida tan and white shorts. They made fun of me. Apparently, the days of wearing shorts are few and far between. That would be the last day I ever wore shorts in that country. The brothers were there to pick me up at the airport and boy was I going through a culture shock. It was my first time in Europe and I was loving it. An hour later, we were on the course and drinking tall-boys. Man, I will never forget the smell of the Irish countryside, so fresh, so pure –with a touch of manure. Mix that with some beer and hitting a few golf balls and you have something close to paradise.
On our way to the course, we stopped by James’ girlfriend’s house to pick her up and take her to work. She looked good and I remember telling James, “Way to go, man”. Little did I know that I would be exchanging marriage vows with her a little less than six years later. But of course I had to get it all out of my system before then. That is one of the keys to a successful marriage: preparation. You must get all crazy, youthful, single experiences out of the system before marriage. If you don’t, you will be doing both you and your lovely new spouse a disservice.
My plan was to spend a couple of weeks with the boys and then head off to the mainland. 9 months later I got back on a plane bound for FLA without ever stepping foot on any other country besides the Emerald Isle. For the first 2 months, we burned through my cash reserves playing golf everyday and hitting the black stuff at night. I was staying in their family home and giving a little bit of cash each month to the mother. I also began to date the younger sister. This was ultimately a bad move on my part. It would later create a rift between me and the brothers, that lasts to this day. At the time I figured what the hell. This wasn’t Florida, this was Ireland and I could get away with just about anything.
So there I was, taking full advantage of what Ireland had to offer me in every respect. By the third month I was forced to get a job. I also wanted to get my own flat. Patrick and I got a flat together in flat-city and were offered the job of running a bistro on Merrion Row. Bad move on the owner’s part. Sure we made the place some money, but we also ate filet mignon every night, as well as helping ourselves to all the Smithwicks we could drink. Before you knew it, the Christmas season rolled around and we got the ax. We partied through the holidays and when the New Year came around, we were back hitting the pavement looking for a job.
With 20% unemployment encompassing the land, I barely managed to land myself a job at a posh restaurant. (illegally, of course) My goal now was to make enough money to get back home in time for my (real) brother’s wedding in the spring of ’94. To do that, I would have to save enough money for airfare and spare cash once I got home. Also, I only had 3 months to do it. The restaurant was in the middle of Dublin across from the city manager’s house. It was the place to be seen and all of the celebrities stopped by for a bite. The staff was also a microcosm of the United Nations. There were the token Yanks like myself. There were also a few Canadians, Brits, Aussies and South Africans. It was a great crew and we all had fun doing our job and we were actually making decent tips from the patrons. The Irish aren’t used to tipping the usual 15-20%. They usually tip between 5-10% or many times not at all. So to work in a fancy restaurant for good tips was definitely a good situation to be in.
Over the next 3 months, I worked extra shifts to make the cash I needed to get back home. Even though I managed to party a few nights away with the staff, I had to decline more often than not to keep on my saving schedule. To save money, I would often walk home instead of taking a cab or bus. It was a 30-minute walk through a few tough neighborhoods, but I kept my eyes peeled, ready to run at a moment’s notice.
The best thing about working at the restaurant was the celebrity sightings. Almost every night, someone famous would walk though the door. You would see mostly rock stars and actors. It appeared that Dublin had always been a mecca for the stars. One reason they loved Dublin and Ireland was because the local people would leave them alone. Mick Jagger could be walking down the street and the locals would look the other way. They essentially wanted to respect their privacy by not making a fuss over them. In the States, Mick would obviously have been mobbed. One time I was walking down the street and I saw the Edge from U2 coming in my direction. He was taking a casual stroll and doing a little window-shopping. Nobody even looked in his direction. In fact, they went out of their way to not look at him. This astonished me to no end. I, of course, started acting like the typical tourist. I started jumping around and pointing him out to my friend. He told me to take it easy, which I soon did.
After awhile I started acting like the locals and ignoring the stars. But when they came into the restaurant, the place was buzzing. We would all get the word at the beginning of the night about who was coming in. At that time, the lucky waiters would be chosen to serve them. It was always one of the older waiters who got to serve them and never any of the new guys like me. The likes of U2, Gabriel Byrne, Alan Rickman, Leslie Nielsen, The Rolling Stones, and even Jerry Lee Lewis stopped by for dinner. Jerry Lee even went over to the piano in the bar to play a few notes on the piano. It was quite a show.
Well, one night I got my chance to wait on a star. The top waiters were off that night, so I got the call. The luck celebrity was none other than Albert Finney. He was one cool cat. He was in town filming a new flick and was out for a quick bite with Rufus Sewall. These guys were having fun, drinking a few cocktails and even buying drinks for a few of the female patrons. He even told me to call him “Al”. That was definitely the highlight of the night. He left a good tip too.
Before I knew it the 3 months had flown by and it was time for me to leave the lovely Emerald Isle. This land had been good to me over the last 9 months. I had left the States in search of new adventures abroad and Ireland had come through. Even though my initial goal was to travel all over Europe, I felt satisfied with my experiences in Ireland. I now had a better sense of the European lifestyle and felt more at ease in my own skin. I knew that I would be back one day and my future travels would go beyond Dublin. Yet, I would never forget my first European landing with my shorts, sandals and Florida tan leading the way.
beantown
Good old Beantown. I have never met anyone who has had a bad word to say about Boston. I mean, how could you. It’s the closest thing to a European city in the US and many of us need to visit Boston at least once to get a feel of what it was like back in the old days, when the redcoats were hanging around and most people walked to where they were going. Boston has always been a truly pedestrian town. Throw in some history, the Old North Church, some great old buildings and a fabulous river down the middle, and you’ve got your self a very cool atmosphere.
I mean this is where it all started, it was the cradle of democracy in those early years, with everyone from Washington to Adams to Hancock to Revere, all spending some time in Boston during the Revolutionary Era. It’s not too big and it’s not too small. Boston is just right, with just the right mix of people. You have the intellectuals across the river in Cambridge and you have the Irish in Southie and the Italians in the North End. In between, you have the most colleges in one city, thriving Chinese and Brazilian populations, all the blue-collar workers you could imagine and a strong gay population to boot. To the north, you have the beautiful White Mountains, Green Mountains, Maine Coastline and Canada. To the South, you have the Cape, the Islands, Casinos, and NYC. You are only a 5-hour flight to Dublin and a 2-hour flight to Bermuda. Drive 3 hours west and you are making a bet at Saratoga. Many people call Boston the “Hub of the Universe” and to me that is exactly what it is. At least that is what I thought when I moved up here in ’94.
After attending my brother’s wedding and selling all of my possessions, including my bed, in a garage sale, I loaded up the Supra and moved to Boston. My final destination was Allston St in Allston, MA. My roommates for the Summer of ’94 happened to be 6 lovely Irish women with me being the man of the house. Talk about landing on your feet. Through a few of my Irish friends I ended up living with my 18 year old Irish girlfriend and 5 other Irish beauties, one being my future wife.
The summer was a blast. I soon had plenty of guy friends sniffing around the apartment for dates with the girls. We would have a party every night with headstand keg drinking, nakedness running around and late night runs to the local pizza joint. It truly was a summer to remember. Nobody had a care in the world and whatever happened tomorrow, happened.
sneaking in
It was a very hot day. But I didn’t give a damn. I was delighted to finally be in the city of Caesar. Here I was, at last standing where the gods of ancient Rome once stood. As the train rolled into the station, I could only imagine what the Roman streets had in store for me. My first stop was Mickey D’s to pick up a map. As a now seasoned traveler, I knew that the best (and free) maps were to found at good old McDonald’s. Yes indeed, American capitalism had tapped into another excellent marketing resource –the far from home American backpacker. After a Big Mac and getting my hands on the map, I made my way to the nearest hostel, which happened to be outside of the center of town, by the Olympic stadium. When one gets off the sweaty train, one always heads to the hostel to get washed up and to get some general bearings (unless you are in Amsterdam, there you go straight to the Cafe).
I was cruising on my own and knew that I could probably hook up with some cool shits down at the hostel. The hostel is always the meeting place for single travelers like myself. I made my way through the front door bureaucracy and was able to find an open bed in the communal room of sleep. Just at that moment, people were congregating around the center row of bunk beds and were talking about what to do that evening. I overheard the word “Coliseum” and knew that a journey was in the making. I soon found my way into the group and got myself signed up to venture out with this band of Canadians, Americans and Australians. It was easy to tag along and I did. After chow, we were all going to meet up outside the hostel and then begin our journey to the sacred bowl. This was a chance of a lifetime. This was a moment of opportunity, one that would only come once and one that would only come by chance. The timing of my arrival had been perfect. Here was a group of trekkers on their way to sneak into one of the most revered and sacred places on earth and I was there to tag along. We cruised into the city center, the town was buzzing on this hot July night. We finally made our way through the center of town and soon could see the night-lights encircling the beautiful oval shape. This structure had been standing since 80 AD. It had been through countless wars and battles. It had weathered the test of time. Now I would walk in the footsteps of Caesar.
The leader of our group was a tall Canadian guy with a goatee. He had gone on this journey before. Only he knew how to guide us to the inner sanctum of the Coliseum. We would not merely slip through the gates where the public walked in the daytime. We would go over several tall iron gates that would lead us deep into the heart of this beast. We would go where the lions and Christians were kept before their fateful meetings. We would go into the pits where men would contemplate their fate. The average tourist would only be able to look over the edge and see down into the pits. We would go into the pits and look up at the sky and see things that only archaeologists and Romans would see. Everyone was excited when we reached the first gate. The gates were very high and took a great deal of effort to overcome. Yet, slowly and surely, each of us made our way over each gate. After finally making it over one gate, there would be another one waiting for us to take it on. We helped each other as much we could, but ultimately each of us was involved in his or her own struggle. This was a small price to pay to set foot on sacred ground. This was indeed an opportunity of a lifetime and each of us knew the significance of the moment.
Finally, we made it to the pits, to the very heart of this wonderful place. Once there, we looked around at each other and smiled with glee. We had done it. We had crept into the bowels of “The” Coliseum. This was a story for the ages and for the party scene back home. This would be my lead into countless drunken conversations, knowing that no one listening could say, “me too”. Yet, to bring us down to earth and to let us know that we hadn’t just step foot on the top of Everest, we were met by several locals sitting just above us. This was their local hangout. It was cool to think that this significant landmark was their Saturday night hangout place. We looked at this place as sacred, whereas they merely saw it as a local place to have a few beers. That thought suddenly put everything in perspective for me. I now saw myself hanging out in my local historical site back home, drinking a few beers with my buddies. This scene before me in the Coliseum was no different. When the locals saw us emerge on the floor of the great structure, they made whistling sounds to say in their own way, “Bravo, you made it!” This made us feel welcome and somewhat at ease in these awe-struck surroundings.
We proceeded to go off in our own little groups to explore the history of this place. Every corner seemed to tell another story. In one area you could envision the lions and tigers chained up, ready to be released on the helpless Christians. In another area, you could see benches in rooms that must have been where the victims said their final prayers before the slaughter. The experience was truly amazing. We were walking in the footsteps of men and women from almost 2000 years ago. No ordinary tourist would ever see what we were seeing. The moment I walked into that hostel, my destiny was written. I was destined to sneak into the Coliseum and walk in the path of history. When I looked up into the starlight sky, I could see myself at that moment as one very lucky traveler who had landed a spot on the most exclusive tour in all of Rome. And it didn’t even cost me a dime; only a few scraps and bruises.
After an hour or so, we went back the way we came, leaving everything the way we found it. To disrupt even the slightest pebble would have been sacrilegious. We knew that preserving the moment in our minds was good enough. To celebrate our victorious journey, we opened a few beers back at the hostel. As we toasted the rest of the night away, we listened to each other’s experience from the trip. It was clear that this had been a special night for all. The next morning I bid my farewell to the group and set out to explore the rest of the city on my own. One stop I made was the Coliseum. I wanted to see how lucky we were and how unlucky the rest of the tourists were. In an organized visit to this awesome place, one must stay within certain boundaries. Going down into the pits, as we had done, was out of the question. Even to go up a few levels, you had to pay a few extra bob. When I managed to get to the edge and look down to where we had ventured, I pointed down and said to the guy standing next to me; “I was down there last night.” With a face of disbelief, he looked at me and laughed. I knew he would never believe me. I didn’t expect him to. I had my moment and that is all I needed. I walked away thinking about what my next adventure was going to be. Topping this one would be a thrill and a challenge. But I was prepared.