The Cheap Seats

A year ago this month I kicked off The Cheap Seats with a post about my first fake heart attack . The story centered around a visit to the emergency room late one night in July 2011 after I had experienced all of the classic symptoms of an impending heart attack. Before leaving for the hospital, however, I did something many other Americans do who also have high-deductible health insurance plans; I weighed the potential risks of not going to the ER against the cost (in dollars) of doing the smart thing - see a doctor. In hindsight a dangerous gamble, but at the time I hemmed and hawwed for a couple of hours before making the ten minute drive. But it was two emergency room visits this past week that reaffirmed for me the awful predicament many families across America also find themselves in - the Crisis of Cost vs. Care. Wednesday evening: I picked up my daughter from dance practice and headed home to make dinner. We weren't settled in for more than 15 minutes before she starte

Performance-enhancing drugs (PED's): As dangerous to the fabric of American sports culture in the early 21st century as Marilyn Monroe and Elvis Presley were to our sexually ignorant culture of the mid-20th century. The common denominator was parental fear. Mom and Dad worried that when their precious Jane or Judy saw one thrust of Elvis' hips it would be Game On . Likewise, Biff and Chet realized what their hips were for after gazing at the gooey deliciousness of Norma Jean. Goodbye .   Fast forward to our insane, sports-crazed culture of the new millennium. Like bowling pins, one "hero" after another has been knocked down. These heroes inevitably fall victim to their own narcissism, uber-competitive zeal, insecurity, child-like need for adulation and endless pursuit of an even bigger payday or endorsement deal. And for some unfathomable reason we love them. We love them with a wholly disproportionate passion right up until the moment when they offer an obligator

Someone I once knew used the expression, " I Hear Your Words ." Suffice it to say these fourteen letters did not come together to form a term of endearment. Instead, the message being clearly conveyed was, "I heard what you said; the words registered in my brain; I couldn't disagree more; you are a bastard." The unintended effect of " I Hear Your Words ", however, was to drive me nearly crazy. I am - after all - a guy. And if most guys are basically like me (which I think they are), they enjoy being right. But not only do men enjoy being right, men like others to acknowledge this to us ("yes, I guess you're right.") Whew, makes me want a cigarette . . . Yes, I know - a bastard. This recent stroll (stumble really) down memory lane reaffirmed a basic fact that took me years to understand and accept. Men and women - on many key points - will never truly "get" each other. Oh sure, we can love each other, give serial monogamy

This week's post - #52 - represents a personal milestone. Last January I challenged myself to create a blog page and write once a week for an entire calendar year. At the time I had no clear idea of what my weekly topics would be, I just knew there were things I wanted to say and share because I sensed that many people could relate to my thoughts and subject matter. I have rambled on about technology, coffee (repeatedly), parenthood, 21st century silliness, politics, mortality and even implored humanity to go to Mars (NASA hasn't returned my calls). Eventually, each week's post was laced with a common theme - if we live long enough we should begin to see the "Big Picture", and realize that many of life's best views are often clearest only when we have reached The Cheap Seats. All of my musings in 2012 have now circled back on me and coalesced into one unavoidable question: Have I reached The Cheap Seats? I doubt it, but I also know that I am plodding my