Category Archives: Aging

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The Cinnamon Roll ( and it’s cousin- The Sticky Bun)

In my January 8th 2015 post, I told you about my plight as an acraphobic skier. I opened up and admitted that I am afraid of heights which is kind of strange for a skier. But I suffer through the aerial tram rides and chairlifts to get to the top. Now, I bare my soul again and reveal a hidden vice that due to my upbringing in Catholic guilt ridden hell, I must reveal. I am an addict. I am addicted to cinnamon rolls and sticky buns. o-1

Sadly, this aversion to healthy eating began with my wife’s grandmother Thelma Curren, who made hot, fresh sticky buns in the oven and called me over to my future in-laws house when they were ready. I was not a coffee drinker at the time, and prepared for the feast by bringing my own freshly squeezed orange juice and enjoying my own rack of buns with raisins. These were prepared especially for me much to the chagrin of my future brother in laws and my future wife Janet. How dare Mrs. Curren make Pat McCloskey his own batch. I loved every bite.

Fast forward to riding my road bike at the Jersey Shore. As I make my 50 mile round trip to Cape May and back to Avalon, I justify my stops at Mallon’s, which after much research, I found to have the best sticky buns at the Shore. I bring a rack back to my family who devours them with glee and then they tell me to never bring them back again. Their perpetual diets are sabotaged by this practice so after the first rack, I ride to Mallon’s and eat a rack by myself, sweating and stinking all over their outside bench. The minimum order is 6 buns and if I cannot inhale them all with a coffee, I sneak the rest back to the condo and hide them in the fridge. I make my way back from the beach feigning a bathroom break and sneak the buns out to the microwave an no one finds out. ocean-city

This helpless habit continues to this day on ski trips. I volunteer always to go to the grocery store after skiing and sneak a bun or a roll on the way back. I find the great bakeries. A weekly ritual in the winter, locally, is to stop on the way back from Laurel Mountain and eat a couple of cinnamon rolls from The Pie Shoppe in Laughlintown. Nothing makes the drive home easier than a coffee and a couple of rolls. o I used to bribe my son Jack to come skiing with me by enticing him with a visit to the Pie Shoppe and he always bit. Now beer is a more likely bait for him. But not for me. As much as I like my IPAs, I will take the buns and the rolls first and foremost.

Penn State people like my wife will extol the virtues of the grilled stickies from Ye Old College Diner in State College, Pa. These mass produced beauties are great grilled and can provide a doughy base in your stomach after an all star night on the town. ye-old-college-diner-stickies But something is lost on me with these buns when you can buy them in the local grocery stores as well as at the Diner. The fresh, warm bun or cinnamon roll right out of the oven in a great bakery cannot be beat. I know my health conscious friends are rolling their eyes at me now and even though I try to eat mostly healthy fare, I can’t help myself when tempted with these treats after a great ride or a ski day. But I know other people slip, like my chiropractor who is deeply into holistic health. Even he goes off the wagon here and there by buying a bag of cookies from Whole Foods and devouring them before he gets home. I outed you Ray. Guilty people love company.

The only justification for this aversion to healthy eating is my diligence in trying to pay for the indiscretion. I truly think in my mind that I can run off that bun or cycle off that roll. I will sweat like a dog trying to burn up that treat and in my mind, after a vigorous workout, I have paid the price. Only to be tempted again in a day or two and the whole vicious cycle of sin and penance begins anew. img_1547

As I have grown older, I have finally found the holy grail of cinnamon rolls dangerously close my home. The Bartram House Bakery has, hands down, the most delicious, cinnamon packed, warm doughy treat one could ever consume. It is so decadent that I find myself paying for it with an over extreme workout. Instead of being a connoisseur of the sticky bun and the cinnamon roll, I have become a common sewer with weekly stops. What am I supposed to do? This sweet toothed practice haunts me as I struggle to lead the healthy lifestyle. So there it is. I have outed myself, dropped my drawers and told you of the struggle that plagues me. I have come out of the closet much like a drinker and the first step to redemption is to admit it. But, chances are, you will catch me sometime with a smile on my face and icing all over my chin. Thanks for reading.

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Keepin’ it Relevant

So, a couple of months ago, I had lunch with my buddy Bill Day and as we munched away on our burritos, he asked me,” Pat- how long do you think you are going to work?” It kind of took me back a bit and as I struggled for a response, Bill told me that he intends to keep working as long as he can. He may slow down a little bit when his boys enter the business in a few years, but for the moment, he likes his business and the challenge it offers. Bill is one of those guys who wears a t-shirt, running shoes and shorts, no matter what the temperature is and looks like the picture of health for a guy in his 60s. I thought about his question and remarked that I had to think about my son in school, health care, etc. but as long as I was contributing, I have no problem working. We are in similar circumstances but I work for a large company and Bill has his own very successful small business. We both agreed that we need to be relevant and making a contribution in order to continue. fullsizerender-51

So what does it mean to be relevant? In my mind, it is raising your hand and volunteering for new projects at work. It is providing guidance to younger employees. It is problem solving using experience gained over many years of employment. It is continuing to provide value even though you are not one of the younger ones anymore, in fact, in my circumstances, I am one of the older ones in our company. But “relevant” is a mindset and both Bill and I agreed. If you can stay healthy, provide value, and want to continue, age really has nothing to do with it. It also has to do with challenging yourself. There is a great blog out there called   jen-agan.squarespace.com  where it is said that,” truth of character and purpose comes to light when we find ourselves soaring outside our comfort zone.” Sometimes, when we think about the road ahead, we must continually challenge ourselves in order to provide value and be……relevant. I have a lot of friends who have retired. They travel, they volunteer, they provide value in their own right but they also enjoy life. I want to do the same thing, but for the time being, it is associated with my work environment.

Aside from the challenges in the work place, what can help you with providing value? I have always been a proponent of strong body assists strong minds. Exercise and activities support good mental health as well as physical well being. I have a group of contemporaries that enjoy skiing and mountain biking. We all challenge each other and love the sport, atmosphere, and history of these pursuits. We look forward to getting together each week and on vacations enjoying the slopes and the trails. We hold each other accountable and the activities support our work ethic because we have the energy to continue to provide value to each other via our activities, but also provide value in the workplace. img_0723img_0203

One of the byproducts of being “relevant” is that you have the chance to test that with younger employees and also younger folks who ski and ride. I ride mountain bikes with a group on Thursday nights during the year who are in good shape and are considerably younger than me. Oftentimes, I am the oldest one by 30 years unless some of my contemporaries show up. But the interesting thing is that I learn from this group. I hear what they like in music, entertainment, politics, and listen to their workplace challenges and when they seek counsel or opinion from the old guy, I feel relevant in that I can respond to them without sounding like a parent or a boss. I am their friend and confidant even though our demographics are somewhat far apart. I can have a beer with them after the ride and we all enjoy the stories of the trail that night. At the same time, I know my place, and would not enter their world on a weekend or week vacation with their peers. I am not one of them. But in the environment of the ride, I am, and we enjoy each other’s company. fullsizerender

So, I guess the bottom line here is age should not dictate whether one is relevant or not but rather mindset and enthusiasm. I like my job and I like my hobbies. I would like to continue to pursue them and stray outside the comfort zone from time to time to test myself. We live in a rapid paced world with social media, continual advertising assaults, main stream media, challenges in the workplace, health and financial challenges, and the list goes on. But with the right attitude and the ability to learn from the younger set, baby boomers like Bill and me can still provide value, learn, and be……for lack of a better word……….relevant. Be kind in 2017 and thanks for reading.

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Coffee- The Great Motivator.

I was not always a coffee drinker. In fact, the first time I ever drank a cup of coffee was when I was on a trip with my wife in San Diego. She said, ” it would be really nice if you would sit and have a cup of coffee with me.” I always thought that coffee was for ” big people” and that it stunted your growth as my mother taught me. So, up until I was in my mid thirties, I had never had the pleasure of experiencing the warm, tasty, caffeinated slide of liquid down the old gullet. It was a revelation. images-1

Fast forward and I found myself in the land of coffee- Seattle, Washington where Starbucks and Seattle’s Best reign supreme. img_0576
I took advantage of all that coffee had to offer there but the fun part was finding the small , boutique coffee stands in places like Enumclaw, Washington on the way to ski at Crystal Mountain. You pull in and order a custom crafted cup of Java from the smiling, female baristas and make your way to the ski area with a warm, travel cup to start your day. mount_rainier_from_west

I often find myself drinking the Java on the way to work or to a work out like cycling or skiing. Aside from the purported benefits of reduction of risk of Type II diabetes, Alzheimer disease, Parkinsons, heart disease, and colorectal cancer, I find that coffee gives you a degree of sharpness in the morning. I find that if I drink a cup on the way to a cycling outing, it gives me a little jolt that is needed because as you age, it takes more time to warm up. But the coffee helps you get out of the parking lot a little easier and I notice it when I don’t drink before I ride. Same benefit with skiing. When I finish the coffee in the lodge, and strap on the boards, my first turns are more focused and the rhythm of the ski turns are assisted by that initial caffeine boost in the morning. Even going to work, it give me focus to begin my day. But aside from the caffeine benefits, what is so special about the proverbial cup of coffee that warrants discussion? images

I have found that there is a whole culture out there of coffee aficionados who revel in the relaxing atmosphere of a coffee shop. Starbucks, McDonald’s and smaller boutique shops encourage folks to relax and enjoy the coffee with soft music and the opportunity to use the internet conductivity to conduct business or just browse the internet while enjoying a fresh cup of coffee. My wife and I enjoyed this type of atmosphere at La Prima this Christmas in the strip district of Pittsburgh. A simple cafe that specializes in the coffee experience. We marveled at the artistry of the frothy creamy decoration on the surface of the cup and just enjoyed the experience instead of getting a “to go” cup and slamming the beverage down during our shopping outing. sawada-coffee-10dec2015-003

But I have to tell you that most of the time, I am slamming the coffee on the way to something. I remember coaching my son in his early soccer years and pounding a cup of coffee before the Saturday morning game. My wife always said that me drinking coffee was like pouring gasoline on a raging fire as I became an enthusiastic, motor mouthed, raging lunatic of a coach. My son cringed as I loudly encouraged them to shoot the ball, defend, and die for the team- all in a grade school soccer game. img00002-20091022-1737

So, the caffeine thing is not lost on me and the benefits of coffee to begin my day or as a performance enhancer is recognized as I slam the coffee down my throat. img_1301

Janet is always telling me that I have to relax and I try to get into the cafe, coffee shop experience, but most of the time I am slamming. Even after all these years, I am a rookie when it comes to the true taste of coffee. I like a strong cup but I really like a little coffee in my cream and sugar. My associate Steve Elliott, with whom I work, says that to really enjoy the taste of coffee, you have to drink it black. I am not there yet and although I am trying to wean myself off the cream and sugar, I have a long way to go. But in the meantime, I will enjoy the sweet, creamy, experience of a slammed cup of Java and thank my wife for introducing me to one of the small pleasures of life. As I age, I notice the smaller things and appreciate them. Hopefully the coffee will appreciate me with healthful benefits that supposedly exist. Enjoy a good cup of steaming coffee and thanks for reading.

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The Night Visitor

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This time of year, I kind of switch gears and get away from the mountain bike, and transition to skiing,running trails, or hauling out the snowshoes. I have always been a runner at night in the winter and it is a solitary pursuit whether running around the lake in our local park, or running trails.img_1227 I am not anti-social this time of year, but it is nice to go out at night with the headlamp and spend some time by myself. I enjoy my own company. I talk to myself. Sometimes I get answers. It gives me time to think and to enjoy the winter weather. There is nothing like a run with the softly falling snow accompanied by my Pandora Christmas selections on the I-Phone. In the old days, it was the Sony Walkman with tapes. But I move ahead with technology- kicking and screaming. img_1232

There were many nights that I had the chance to contemplate Christmas and the true meaning of the birth of Christ. I always had fond memories of nativity scenes or the “creche” because of a wonderful story that I watched as a kid- ” Amahl and the Night Visitors.” carnegie_presepio It was re-broadcasted in 1963 from its original 1951 production on the Hallmark Hall of Fame. Although the story is fictional with the shepherd boy and the Magi, the opera by Carlo Menotti was based on biblical truth. I was always fascinated with that production on TV and thought of it often when I would see a creche. Perhaps one of my favorite nativity scene locations was in the grove right near my run starting point at Stone Field in North Park. It was always nice to finish a run and walk up to the grove which was decorated by Allegheny County Parks and Recreation. The star was perched at the apex of the roof of the grove and the floor was coated with hay and the walls lined with hay bales. The Magi, the shepherds, the angels all were present with Mary, Joseph and the baby Jesus. A brilliant display especially on cold, snowy, winter nights around Christmas time.

Looking at that scene at the end of a run was comforting to me and I noticed a lot of other runners, walkers, and hikers in the park making the trek up through the field to the grove. Children were amazed and even the dogs seemed to be silent in reverence to the serene scene in our county’s largest park. It has been several years since that nativity scene or creche has been present in that grove. As we all know, there is controversy about separation of church and state and due to nationally recognized litigation, the grove is now an empty, silent, space this time of year. img_1229

Now I am not one to get political or controversial on my blog at all. I also hold any opinions to myself on Facebook posts. But I must say that I miss that creche in the park and the wonderful job that the County did on the presentation each year in that grove. I also believe there are many people who feel the same way as I do. We miss it – that’s all. We are not here to debate the first amendment but rather reminisce on the nice feeling that was present on those winter nights at the end of a solitary, contemplative run. Christmas has many meanings to different people. For me it is a celebration of my faith and the wondrous miracle that took place 2000 years ago. I never see the creche as a graven image, but rather a reminder of the humility of Christ as He came among us.

So, I continue to run, in the solitary darkness. I watched the space shuttle soar overhead last night in the presence of hundreds of stars that can be seen from the darkness of our beautiful county park. For those of you who celebrate Christmas, I wish you a blessed time with your family and friends. Enjoy the season and thanks for reading.

Creche picture courtesy of Carnegie Museum.

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The Ambulance

Posting a little early this week to usher in the Holidays. I wanted to tell you about another automobile and the passengers who made it special. 73-buick-estate-wagon-dv_09_gc_01

My mother was a fabulous cook. She loved to entertain. She got off to a rough start with my paternal grandfather John H McCloskey Sr. when he and my grandmother came early to dinner one day.It was in the first year of my mom and dad’s marriage. Flustered, my mom hurried as best as she could and after the grace, when my grandfather dug in, he remarked,” Carol, I have seen chickens hit on the road that were done better than this.” My mom was devastated but redeemed herself over the years with her entertaining and cooking for my demanding relatives. Enter the “ambulance.”

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My mom had a habit of inviting all of the in-laws and the out-laws to our house for Thanksgiving and Christmas. When they became too old to drive themselves, I became the chauffeur with my sister in tow and we went and picked them all up in the Buick station wagon. Now my relatives were not shy about taking a “nip” or two before dinner and at their advancing age, sometimes it hit the fan. My mothers maiden aunts, Mamie and Lee Reynolds would chug the cocktails and begin the long, slow slide under the table to be set upright, back in their chairs by yours truly. They had a habit of looking for their eyeglasses during this pre-catatonic state which were neatly perched on the top of their heads. My paternal grandfather had a habit of talking in a loud voice which he thought was whispering. ” How is your drink mother?”, he said to my grandmother. When she said it was ok, he remarked, ” Kind of watered down if you ask me.” He liked a strong belt and I became an expert at plowing them with high test Manhattans. img_1205

The dinners over the years were fabulous and the rides home were stuff of legend. Molly and I would pour Mamie and Lee onto the couch back on Rankin Avenue and begin the extra routing to the North Side and Bellevue with whomever was a passenger at the time. My dad’s aunt Ann would insult her sister in law ( my paternal grandmother), and the donneybrook became vocal in the ambulance.

Soon the time came when the ambulance became the delivery vehicle because the old folks were too feeble to come out to the house any more. Molly and I would have a station wagon full of turkey dinners complete with all the trimmings and deliver them all day to the relatives, stopping briefly to converse with them and make them the obligatory Manahattans in their homes. My mother cooked for days in order to provide multiple dinners for Thanksgiving because she didn’t want anyone to be alone especially the in-laws, and the out-laws.

As I think back about my elderly relatives, I have many smiles because they truly were characters. When you age, your world tends to shrink and survival mode kicks in. It was amusing to see the view of the world from their perspective which was all about them. I was truly blessed to have the experience of driving them,being with them, and enjoying the spectacle that was the Holidays. I loved being with the old folks and was particularly close to my maternal grandmother and grandfather, Mary and John Reynolds. img_1206

The “ambulance” finally gave up the ghost one year and the deliveries dwindled as the old folks passed on to their eternal rewards. But, when I think of those days of huge meals at Pineview Driveimg_1199 and the subsequent deliveries of copious amounts of food in the old station wagon, I smile and want the tradition to continue. My wife Janet loves to cook and we are having some elderly friends of my mother in law’s over for dinner this Thanksgiving. I am looking forward to it because it reminds me of traditions that must continue in this country. Take care of the relatives, help to feed those who are not as fortunate by way of a donation, or volunteering. And pass on the importance of family to the younger generation who look to us for example. Enjoy the Holidays and thanks for reading.

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Unbridled Enthusiasm

Well, I just completed another lap around the sun this week and I am here to tell you that at 62 years old, I have as much enthusiasm for the upcoming winter season as I did when I was a kid. img_1188

When I was a young guy, I couldn’t wait for that first snowflake to fall. I read everything I could read on skiing and impatiently waited for that phone to ring where Bob Rose would tell me to get ready for the weekend ahead. ohara-20130104-00081

As life moves on, people get busy and sometimes the passions of their youth wane with responsibilities, families, work and other life challenges. But in my mind, if you have a passion like I have for winter and the ski season, it is cherished and has been something that has lasted for 55 years of my life. My wife Janet thinks I am a little off the wall when I get all of my equipment out and make sure that the new boots fit the bindings properly, the DIN settings are correct and the skis are all freshly tuned and waxed for the upcoming season. I get the strange looks from the new neighbors when I am out in the yard with shorts and ski boots. img_1132

I now have skis for every possible condition and whether I am skiing locally, out west, or in New England, my quiver is full and I am locked and loaded for fun. img_1129

People ask me all the time how I can get so excited to ski at our local area and I tell them that I have been doing it for 55 years and although I have skied in 108 different areas in my life, I still have that fondness for the Laurel Highlands here in Western Pa. The other thing I tell people is that if you can get your legs locally, you can enjoy your trips all the more. Get up early, ski until noon, and you can get more runs in than most people do all day. Then when you do venture out west, you are ready to go. But there is more to skiing locally. You have the camaraderie of friends with whom you have been skiing for a long, long time. They have the passion too and we all cannot wait for the season to start so we can get together on that first chairlift ride. Rob Alarcon and I were riding our mountain bikes the other night when he looked at me and said, ” I am getting nervous” ” I am getting so excited for skiing that I can’t stand it.” His way of dealing with it is to buy more and more equipment and when we talked clothing, he said,” I have so much clothing that I could insulate my house with it.” A funny line to be sure but graphically illustrating the passion of which I speak.

Skiing is like a lot of activities where friendships are formed that last a lifetime. You don’t have to be a skier to feel this passion and excitement. There are so many activities that foster this friendship, fun, passion, and love for whatever holds your community together. So, if life is marching on, take the time to remember what fueled your passion as a young person. Maybe some of that excitement needs to be rekindled? Memories of that first ride to the mountains and how much it mattered to you, can be restored with your family or friends. Life is too short not to have passions. I love life from the seat of a bicycle or sliding down a mountain on a pair of skis. The speed, the wind, the excitement of that first turn never gets old. Just do it!! Thanks for reading. img_0723

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The Natural Portrait

My friend Helen Durfee always said that the fall season in Western Pa is just as nice as Vermont, just a little less dramatic. She grew up in the Laurel Highlands and lived the first part of her married life in Vermont. I agree that Vermont and New England are famous for “leaf peeping” but I have to say that this particular fall here in Western Pa. has been spectacular. img_1111

I have been treated to some amazing days of mountain biking and hiking this fall where I have taken the time to enjoy the color of the leaves. I have taken the time to “savor” the days like a fine steak or fresh seafood. I try to take little bites and enjoy the flavor. Like my commute to work on Squaw Run  Road. I don’t go the fastest route to work but rather the scenic roads to enjoy the changes in the leaves each day. This year the changes have been remarkable. img_1117

Another contributing factor to my enjoyment of Fall 2016 has been the app that was suggested to me by my friend Eric Durfee( Helen’s husband and native Vermonter). It is called ProHDX and can be downloaded on your I-Phone. This particular app allows you to shoot a photo and really get the focus and colors sharply so that the end result is an I-Phone photo that looks particularly good compared to most. I am not a real good photographer and the only camera I have is on my I-Phone. But I have really enjoyed using this app and the convenience of the I-Phone on a ride or a hike can yield some spectacularly sharp images. img_1106

The one nice thing about a hike or taking in the view from a mountain bike is that you can avoid all of the cars packed with “leaf peepers” and enjoy the quiet transformation of the season in the woods of Western Pennsylvania. Many past seasons have been rushed with race pace rides looking at nothing other than the persons backside in front of me. Games, practices, kid’s activities take a lot of time and effort for many of us. But as you age and the seasons of rushing to activities wane, it is a great practice to slow down, take in the seasons, and enjoy the flames of the maple leaves, the golden colors of the oak trees and even the pale shading of the ferns on the forest floor. In my old backpacking days, I did take the time to hike and enjoy the fall in the Laurel Highlands. But in the many years since, those times had been replaced by soccer games, basketball games and general activities with my wife and son. Now I have a college student who does his own thing, and my wife and I are trying to slow down and enjoy what God provides for us by way of a natural display of color. img_1108

So, I guess the message here is to savor your experiences. The yearly season change where the warm days try to hang on into Indian Summer, create some spectacular viewing if you take the time to enjoy the days. You don’t have to go to the mountains to enjoy the scene. Just look out your window, your windshield, or take a walk in the neighborhood. Smell that fall aroma of leaves. See the tannin of the leaves change the creek colors. Notice the difference. Slow down. Thanks for reading.

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We were Outlaws

Lets have a little fun this week? How many old mountain bikers does it take to screw in a light bulb? Four!!! One to screw it in and 3 to remember how great the old bulb was. That is about right when we remember the days when we were outlaws on the trails. Billy Kirk and I were talking at our post riding place, the OTB Cafe when he said,” Hey Pat- how about a post on the old days?” So here we are Billy. Back in the late 80’s when a lot of my crowd started riding, we had equipment that was relatively simple.img_1097 Shocks had not been invented yet so we were all riding chromoly hard tails,cantilever brakes, with 3 ” knobby tires and no suspension. I had a Scott with a “U” brake that kept collecting leaves, mud,cigarette packages, and other various and sundry items because this bike was really meant for fire roads out west instead of nasty, rooty trails of the east. But we all managed. Trouble is- our local trails were really hiking and horse trails and the police didn’t appreciate our new activity on these established trails especially at night. night-ride-october-2-of-1
But we continued to ride and when the police yelled at us through their bull horns to get off the trails, we simply shut off our lights and waited them out. They got smart and started to park at our lot to wait for us as we came back with our lights. But we waited them out until they left, scrambled to our cars and trucks and left in a hurry, spewing invectives about donuts. Other trail users didn’t like us back in the day and we had to somehow carve out a place for our activity on our local and statewide trails. img_1098

Fast forward- mountain biking was becoming real popular in 1989 and the first local race series started with Gary Bywaters forming the Month of Mud. Back in the day, most of us were road riders and mountain biking was new to us as we struggled with the new equipment in a race setting. img_1095 Not to mention the fact that By had us racing in late October and November. Snow began to fall at the Brady’s Run course one year, and at the end of the race, there was 6 inches of fresh powder on the trails. Needless to say, guys like me ended up over the bars multiple times. The Cranberry Course was often flooded and By used to place pink flamingos on the course to lighten the atmosphere. We even had a course at Traxx Farms where we raced through a pumpkin patch. All of this effort for fabulous prizes such as a rock, a pear or an apple. The season ending trophies were By’s old race walking trophies with the name plates removed and typed result labels scotch taped to the trophies. A lot of these stories rest in the lore of the Month of Mud and I love to tell the fast guys today about the “good old days.” Some of them can relate but most of them were toddlers when we raced the original Month of Mud races. Hell, I have socks older than most of those guys. But they are fast!!!

It is fun to talk about the old days of mountain bike riding in Western Pa and West Virginia.The characters and the personalities are many. But life moves on and like the old bulb, it really has to go. The Month of Mud today is big time with sponsors, 100+ riders and multiple classes. A much different event than the exploratory atmosphere of the old days. Also, we have as a community, carved out a place on the trails with the good work being done by Trail Pittsburgh, LHORBA( Laurel Highlands Off Road Bicycle Association) and PORC( Pittsburgh Off Road Cyclists). A lot of sweat equity being done to validate our place on the trails. We don’t have to hide from the police anymore, they ride with us. Times change, equipment has surely changed and a lot of us old veterans are keeping current by continuing to ride and investing in the new products. Despite knee replacements, hip replacements, family obligations, time constraints with work, and other distractions, the old guard still rides and passes on the traditions to the new guys and gals. We learn a lot from each other. That is the thing about activities like mountain biking. The participation level spans all age groups. A lot of time has passed for many of us, but the thrill of the trail captivates us on many levels. So Billy, I will continue to tell the stories and when it becomes too repetitive, just put me in the corner and tell me to go to sleep. Thanks for reading.

Photos of  Jeff ” Bionic Knees” Wuerthele,  Karl “the legend” Rosengarth, and yours truly, courtesy of Dirt Rag Magazine.

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It’s the little things that matter.

I don’t know about you, but the older I get, the more I think time is flying by. The days, the months, the years, all seem to advance so quickly. I seem to be on a rocket ship flying through the universe with planets, asteroids, stars, whipping by the body of the rocket at a rapid pace and I don’t even have the chance to observe them in detail. That is why I am making an effort to hit the reverse thrusters and try to enjoy the little things that matter. When you value the little things, it slows life down a bit. Take for instance these mums in front of my house.img_1082 I have taken notice each day of their blooming pattern. I take the scenic route to work and instead of taking the major state route, I take the road less traveled which allows me to enjoy the changing of the leaves which happens before my eyes just like the blooming of the mums. jilllake
I don’t go to the store and get the plastic bag of apples. This time of year, I go to the local farm market and get what is fresh. I look at the apple that I am about to eat from the farm and value the crisp, juicy, taste instead of the dried, tasteless bag of apples that came out of the cooler at a refrigerated distribution center warehouse.
My wife gets a kick out of me running out of the house at night to see the space shuttle fly across the evening sky. I get my notice from NASA each day and make an effort to see the shuttle. It is the fastest thing in the heavens on most evenings and its path intrigues me. Similarly, I get my telescope out to view the planets and get excited to see a little white sphere in my lens with smaller white dots that are the moons surrounding Venus or the ring around Saturn. I text my son to come out and see and he says to me,” Dad, I see it ten times better on the Internet.” They say little things amuse little minds but I think little things are what slow things down a bit. Looking at the stars on a night ride on my mountain bike. Whenever there is a break, I look up. night-ride-october-2-of-1

While I am on the subject of little things, lets talk about little kindnesses which we are afforded or afford each day. Things are hectic now and there is a lot of pressure just to get through life for most people. But when you slow down, and appreciate the little things that people do for you, it enhances your life experience. When my wife gives me a hug, a kind word from a friend, support when you are down. These are the little gems that make life easier. People do nice things for me all the time and I appreciate them. Patrick Dahlkemper did me a huge solid on a root canal. Barry Jeffries always takes care of me at Dirty Harry’s Bike Shop. Richard helps me out with a recent ski boot purchase at Peak Ski and Board. They don’t have to do these things, they do them because they like me. Go figure! I tend to have the Irish National Curse and always want to pay them back immediately. But I need to slow down and appreciate the kindness that they give me just because. On the “pay it forward” path, our lives are enriched when we afford little kindnesses to those we deal with on a daily basis and to the ones we love. I need to hold Janet’s hand more often. I try to always be there to help friends whether they are in need or just support them daily. The Golden Rule is sometimes lost today in this self serving world of ours. We are compelled to be kind to others not because they did something nice for us, but because we are all in this together. At the risk of being cliche’, ” All lives matter.” And as a believer, I know we are compelled to behave this way. So, as the seasons change, try to hit that reverse thruster, and enjoy the small things in life. That red oak leaf on your entrance mat that ushers in the fall season. That first sip of apple cider. The crackling of a fire, paying it forward. Even a little donut. img_1083 Thanks for reading.

by

A Real American Hero

I always respect anyone who is serving in the military. I have always respected and admired veterans who served in the armed forces and the sacrifices that they made to ensure our way of life here in the United States. As a history buff, I also value the place in our past that is reserved for veterans who made the ultimate sacrifice or those whose actions merited historical significance. There are many of these stories in our history and I wanted my son Jack to be aware that there was one of these stories right within his own family.
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One day, a few years back, there was an event at the Allegheny County Airport here in Pittsburgh where one could actually view and tour a B-24 bomber from World War II. My son and I stopped to pick up my Uncle Jack and when my son introduced himself and said, ” Hello, I am Jack McCloskey,” my Uncle responded ” No you are not, I’m Jack McCloskey.” My son giggled as we asked Uncle Jack or “Handsome Jack” as he liked to call himself how he was doing? He replied in his usual comical way,” First class, first class, at least that’s what the girls all say.” My son Jack giggled and off we went to the airport. slocum-b24-diamond-lil-up-close-2013-copy

When we arrived, my Uncle, who was in his 80’s, jumped up into the cockpit of the aircraft like he owned the plane. I asked Jack to keep an eye on him and don’t let him fall, but young Jack had a hard time keeping up the the old fella as he made his way through the plane explaining to everyone who would want to listen about the features of a B-24 bomber used in the Great War. You see, my uncle was the pilot of one of those planes and this is his story.

After flight school in the Army Air Corps, Handsome Jack became a pilot of a B-24 that provided support to the ground invasion of Italy during the Anzio Beach campaign. I can remember my uncle relating the tale of his 52 missions over the area returning to base every night with extensive flak damage to the fuselage caused by anti-aircraft gunners of the German Army. Imagine a young guy, I believe around 21 years old, being shot at every day and limping back to base awaiting repair of the aircraft only to fly out again the next day on another bombing mission. When I was 21, I was looking for my next cheeseburger. Times were different then and boys became men in a real hurry. Shortly after his 52nd mission, Handsome Jack was sent to his first mission in Rangoon, Burma and took Japanese anti aircraft fire and the plane was in peril. He assembled the crew and told them to prepare for bailout and as they all parachuted out of the burning craft, the B-24 hit the trees and exploded. My Uncle and his crew landed in the tall trees of the Burmese forest and made their way down to the base of the trees with my uncle breaking his back and his ankle. The Japanese were there waiting for them and immediately took them prisoner.

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The long and the short of it was that my uncle spent a year as a prisoner of war, keeping the crew’s spirit in tact by singing Irish songs and Christmas songs with his beautiful Irish tenor voice only to personally and eventually bury all of his crew. The British eventually bombed the camp and as my uncle fled for his life, waiving at the RAF frantically, they realized he was one of the prisoners and rescued him after a year in excruciating conditions of captivity. He made his way back to Bellevue, Pa., his home, much to the delight of my grandparents, my dad, and my aunts, who had given him up for dead. What a homecoming he had consuming a dozen eggs as his first meal back home with his family. Handsome Jack received the Distinguished Flying Cross and the Purple Heart for his heroism under the most grueling conditions. His positive attitude kept him alive not only during his Anzio campaign, but in the bowels of a Japanese POW camp in a remote part of the jungle.
As young Jack led Handsome Jack around the restored aircraft that day, I couldn’t help to think to myself that my son was witnessing history in the making. My uncle was in my mind, a real American hero. I was so glad that my son had the opportunity to meet my hero as his kind are leaving us rapidly these days with each passing year. My Uncle is no longer with us, but his memory is kept alive with every Irish song I hear and every tale I read about the bravery of our veterans in World War II. If you see anyone who has served in the military, take the time to thank them for their service.They will appreciate it. Thanks for reading.