Headin' north with my son

Back in 2013, Jared and I drove to Rochester, New York, to watch an outdoor hockey game where the temperature at opening faceoff was 18 degrees (and falling). The NHL games we're seeing this week will be played in indoor arenas, so there's that.

My son Jared and I will be spending a week in Canada on what I've been describing as "a hockey trip."

Yes, we'll hit some tourist spots, but our main purpose in the Great White North will be to watch NHL hockey. Specifically NHL hockey as played by my favorite team over the last 33 years, the Ottawa Senators.

Many times I have told the story how I, a lifelong Clevelander, became an ardent Sens fan.

It started back in 1992 when I was a sports writer for The News-Herald, our local newspaper. The International Hockey League's Cleveland Lumberjacks had just arrived in town and I offered to cover the team for the paper.

Being at best passingly familiar with the rules and intricacies of hockey, I set out to learn as much as I could about the sport (which included taking ice skating lessons Sunday nights at the rink in Brooklyn, Ohio).

I also decided I needed an NHL team for which to root. Ottawa had just come into the league, and seeing as how I was fascinated by all things Canadian, I decided the Senators would be my team.

This despite knowing not even a single player on their roster.

I figured once they became good, I could say I had been a fan since the very beginning.

Admittedly, "good" has been somewhat elusive for the Sens over time, though they did have a nice run in the 2000s, including an appearance in the Stanley Cup Finals in 2007.

I have seen Ottawa play live about a dozen times over three decades in cities ranging from Chicago and Pittsburgh to Tampa and Columbus.

But never in Ottawa itself.

Until now.

Jared and I will travel first to Montreal to watch the Sens take on Les Canadiens at the Bell Centre, after which we'll make the two-hour drive west to Ottawa. There we'll see my guys face off against the St. Louis Blues and New York Rangers.

Finally, for the first time, I can proudly wear one of my Senators jerseys as a member of the home crowd, without fear that an opposing fan will toss beer at me when I cheer a Sens goal.

Well, I suppose that could still happen, but it doesn't seem as likely to happen there as it does in, say, Pittsburgh.

Jared and I have taken several sports-themed trips together over the years, but this one is the most ambitious of all. As I write this, I don't know what the weather will be like, so I can't be sure the long drive to Eastern Ontario and Quebec will be smooth sailing.

Or even doable.

Still, we already have the tickets and I've already booked the hotel rooms. So worst comes to worst, we'll fly up there if we have to.

That would be expensive. But after all, this is hockey.

It's serious business.

I watch just enough of my wife's TV shows to (kind of) know what's going on

This is what it's like when I start asking my wife questions about whatever she's watching on television. I think she enjoys when I interrupt her.

My wife Terry has always been someone who gets things done.

Most days, you can find her working around our house cleaning this, organizing that, cooking dinner, or otherwise keeping things together.

Whenever she takes a break from her various household duties (and she isn't out thrifting or spending time with our grandson), you can find her in one of two places.

Sometimes she sits in the corner of the living room putting together large jigsaw puzzles of the kind I could never in my life finish.

Other times she reclines on our couch and watches TV.

This usually takes the form of Terry making her way episode by episode through a multi-season show like "Smallville," "Charmed," "Supernatural," or many others.

Most recently, she has been watching "Once Upon a Time," the ABC fantasy drama series that ran from 2011 through 2018.

Usually she does this alone, as I'm either at the office or otherwise occupied with whatever my to-do list prescribes for the day. But a few times a week, often right after I shower at night, I come sit on the couch and watch whatever she's watching.

Which of course means I randomly pop in and out of television series that have complicated, evolving plots.

Which also means I'm not always 100% sure what's going on.

Still, I've usually seen enough of a given show to know: (a) the main characters, (b) the general direction of the story, and (c) how these series are generally written.

So I can follow along.

Sort of.

I try not to plop right down and start asking my wife questions to bring myself up to speed, but from time to time, that's exactly what I do.

Sometimes she'll answer mid-episode without hitting the pause button, while other times she will sigh, stop the show, and fill me in.

I also do various Google searches to discover major plot points, the fate of certain characters, and even the backgrounds of the actors on the show.

This last item is something that either amuses or annoys my wife, I can't be sure. Out of nowhere I'll pipe in with something like, "The actress who plays the evil queen is Lana Parrilla. She used to be on '24.' She has her own online clothing company."

Terry, who has asked for none of this information, will stare at me for a second. Sometimes she'll sarcastically thank me "for that important update" before returning to her show. Other times she'll simply turn her attention back to the TV without saying a word.

Either way, I like to think I've enhanced her viewing experience.

The constant struggle to match your spouse's body temperature

 

It's so cliche I hesitate even to bring it up, but Terry and I almost never experience feeling hot or cold at the same time.

We'll be crawling into bed at night, and I'll be thinking to myself, "I don't even want to get under the covers, it's so hot." Then I look over and she is buried beneath a pile of blankets with only the top of her head sticking out.

She will ask how I'm not freezing to death. I will ask how she's not soaking the sheets in sweat.

And on and on.

I don't travel for business nearly as much as I used to, but when I do, the first order of business upon entering my hotel room is turning down the thermostat.

I mean really turning it down. Usually as low as it will go. Mid-60-degree territory.

Then I enjoy a blissful, uninterrupted 7 to 8 hours of sleep. I do this knowing the fun will end the second I return home.

Not that Terry likes it boiling hot or anything, but she definitely prefers the house to be a few degrees warmer than I. And I'm fine with that. You get used to it, and there are plenty of things over which she compromises her own likes and dislikes in deference to me.

Which is what you do in a marriage. You give and take. You cede a little ground here in the hopes your partner will do likewise over there. You put their needs above your own.

In the end, it all evens out.

Not that it doesn't carry some degree of risk. I, for instance, will inevitably suffer heat stroke one of these days in my own sweltering bedroom.

But at least, as I lose consciousness, I'll be able to look to my right and see the pile of comforters that stole my heart nearly 40 years ago, sleeping peacefully.

For a brief time before COVID hit, my family and I were Cleveland hockey celebrities...sort of

"Celebrities" is way too strong a word, but we did appear on the Rocket Mortgage Fieldhouse (now Rocket Arena) video board many times throughout the abbreviated 2019-20 and 2020-21 Cleveland Monsters hockey seasons.

We have been season ticket holders for the American Hockey League Monsters since the franchise was born in 2007. Which means we have seen lots and lots of hockey games together. In nearly 19 years as Monsters Hockey Club members, we have watched the team win one Calder Cup championship and several playoff games, and we've also seen them lose a heck of lot.

Through it all, as we point out in the video above, the real key for us has simply been the chance to be together. More specifically, the chance to be together two at a time, as we have just two seats in our account (club level, second row on the aisle, right at the red line...the absolute best seats in the house).

In the team's early years, I remember Jared and I attending postgame season ticket holder skating sessions in which the only people on the ice were team mascots Sully and the Mullet Brothers, in-game host Olivier Sedra, a few other fans, and us. And that was it.

Nowadays, the Monsters lead the AHL in attendance every year, drawing north of 10,000 fans for most games. They're a hot ticket here in Cleveland, largely because they're so affordable compared with the major league sports in town.

We were selected to make this promotional video because we were one of the "founding families" among season ticket holders, I guess. Whatever the reason, we had a blast doing it.

Chloe and Melanie weren't available for the video shoot in our living room. And as you can clearly see, poor Jack didn't much want to be part of it.

Every time it would appear on the arena "Humungotron," we would receive a stream of texts from friends and acquaintances at the games. "We just saw you on the video screen!!" "That was so cool!" "It was so much fun seeing you guys up there!"

The video was shot and edited in January/February 2020. Once March rolled around, of course, the pandemic changed everything. The 2019-20 season was cancelled, and the number of games the followed year was greatly limited as in-person events slowly returned.

Things got back to normal in 2021-22, and our video was played several more times, but by then the always creatively marketed Monsters had new content to show their fans, both in the arena and online.

Our video eventually ended up in their virtual scrap bin, which is fine. It had served its purpose.

Our relatively short stint as stars on the big screen was over. We have maintained our season tickets and our memories since then.

Now the one thing we would like is another Calder Cup championship, if it's not too much to ask.

A 37-year-old video clip brings back a flood of memories

The video at the top of today's post is a 1-minute snippet of a longer segment recorded on Wednesday, November 2, 1988, my 19th birthday.

The clip was captured by my dad using our trusty old – and decidedly heavy – Curtis Mathis video camera. The quality is exactly what you would expect nearly four decades on, though I'm not sure the lighting and the videographer were exactly top notch to begin with.

(I say that with all due respect to my dad, who made up for whatever he lacked in moviemaking skills with love and enthusiasm.)

No matter, though. What's important is that it captures a moment in time that, while receding further and further into the past, still vividly recalls the optimism of young adulthood.

I was a freshman at John Carroll University, while my then-fiancée Terry (seen in the last few seconds of the video) was working at Lincoln Electric and banking the money we would use to buy our first house 3 1/2 years later.

There's much to savor here, including:

• A striking resemblance between 1988 me and the 2025 version of my son Jack. People have said we look alike, and I see it here.
  
  
• A starring role for my niece Jessica, who was 3 years old at the time and the star of nearly every video my dad shot.
  
  
• Cameos from loved ones long gone (Mom, my sister Judi) and those thankfully still with us (my brother Mark, my sister-in-law Becky, my brother-in-law Jess).
  
  
• Mark with my stuffed Bill the Cat on his head.

Mine is not the first generation to have its life chronicled through home movies, though I think the VCR era did make it easier to record and watch moments like these.

And I'm so grateful for that. A few years ago I went through our VHS tapes and digitized as many as I could. They're full of clips like these I never want to lose.

Time marches on. Technology makes it possible to remember the people and places we encounter along the way in more than just our hearts.

A boy named Cal

 

One very cheap way to attract "likes," comments and all the other forms of social media validation on which bloggers thrive is to post photos like this one of my grandson Cal.

I am not above doing this.

Cal is 2 months old and I can't get enough of him. We make the drive down to his house in Akron whenever we have the chance, and we love when he's able to spend time here at Grammy and Grandpa's house.

Before Cal was born, I had lots of veteran grandparents tell me things like, "Just you wait. You're going to love that little guy in a way you can't even imagine. He's going to change your world."

And I would say to myself, "OK, yes, of course I'm going to love him."

But I didn't really understand how and how much I would love him. It's a dazzling new experience.

I've not been doing this grandparent thing very long, but from what I can tell so far, the love you have for a grandchild is very much like the love you have for your kids, but...somehow different. Not better or worse, just different. It's deep and profound in ways I couldn't have expected.

Some of that probably has to do with emotional family connections you make with your own mom and dad, and by extension your mother-in-law and father-in-law. I wish so much that Cal could have met any of his great-grandparents on our side, but it wasn't in the cards.

So I guess Terry and I have to love him even more to make up for their absence. Challenge accepted.

The running joke when it comes to grandparenthood is that you get all the benefits of being a parent and can simply hand them back at the end of the day.

Which I guess is true, but the reality is we never want to hand him back. We don't mind changing diapers, feeding him, or walking with him if he's fussy.

None of that feels like an imposition or a burden. It feels more like a privilege.

I know what Chloe and Michael, Cal's mom and dad, are going through right now. Having a baby takes a lot of time and energy, especially when you're juggling it with full-time work (in Michael's case) or navigating the application and interview process for medical school (in Chloe's case).

People will tell you that, despite the chaos, you're going to miss these days. And much like my semi-dismissal of friends and relatives who tried to describe to me the experience of being a grandparent, it's difficult to really grasp and appreciate what they're talking about in the moment.

But over time you learn. Just as I'm learning what an incredible blessing it is to be this little boy's grandpa. I can't even tell you how lucky we are.

This might seem strange, but I like people and I love hearing their stories

It is fashionable these days to think poorly of people in general.

And there is some justification for that. A sizeable chunk of humankind very often seems neither "human" nor "kind."

Still, I've met very, very few folks in my life who didn't interest me in some way, or with whom I wouldn't want to hold a conversation.

You know that thing about judging someone based on whether you would have a beer with them? Doesn't work for me. I would have a beer with virtually anyone, including – and especially – you.

I so enjoy hearing about people's lives and how they got to where they are. I like to listen to them talk about their beliefs, their hopes, their dreams, and yes, their disappointments.

As I've often said, everyone has a story. And that story is inevitably fascinating, no matter who you are.

Of course, few of us see our own lives that way. We're too close to the situation to understand how genuinely interesting we are.

Yes, a true narcissist simply assumes you want to know more about them, and they can't wait to give you the details. But most of us, if asked about ourselves, simply shrug and say, "Me? Eh, I'm not that interesting."

Actually, you are.

Now, let me also say this: I understand how easy it is for someone like me, an extrovert, to engage with others and listen to their stories, especially strangers. My wife says I could talk to a tree.

I get that, for introverts, this can be a nearly impossible task. If you're introverted, I imagine you might be anything but excited to hear about other people's lives.

So I do realize I'm speaking only for myself and maybe a handful of others when I say how much fun it is to hear others talk about themselves.

For one thing, you can learn something valuable from almost any person you meet. I really do believe that. Even if you don't fundamentally agree with their worldview, chances are they're somewhat well-intentioned and trying their best in life.

In their struggles, often tinged with self-doubt, are the stories that make practically every person on earth someone worth talking to. Someone from whom we can glean something to help navigate our own challenges.

Someone you're better off having met.

Oftentimes we reflexively categorize an annoying social media poster with political labels that strip them of their individuality and keep us from seeing their inherent worth.

Putting others in a box blinds us to their stories and prevents us from understanding what drives them.

And you know what? Their motivations are almost never what you think they are. You don't have to agree with them, but you should at least try to understand them.

I guess what I'm saying is, don't deny yourself the joy of discovering other human beings. Say hello. Be curious. Ask questions, even if you think you already know the answers.

You may be pleasantly surprised by what you find.