New Orleans, La.

I sat down to write about the start of the college football season, or, as its known in Frat-land, as tailgate season. I felt like Owen Wilson from Wedding Crashers when Vince Vaughn reminds him of the upcoming wedding season. Unparalleled joy and excitement as I anticipated the debauchery that is common before noon. However, I was struck by the stories coming out of the Crescent City, so my recollection of the day's happenings will have to wait a day or two.

I have made four trips to this beautiful city on the banks of the Mississippi River and in the shadow of Lake Pontchartrain. Unfortunately, none of them took place before August 2005. I was too late to take in the beauty and culture captured in this southern gem, shaped by a blend of French, Spanish, and African flavors to complete the Cajun that envelops the region. The city is rich in beautiful architecture, the best food in North America and its own musical sound that is rarely reproduced elsewhere.

However, the scars still remain from the most devastating disaster in American history. Entire neighborhoods remain disaster, complete with empty warehouses where stores use to supply bustling neighborhoods, but now serve as a stark reminder of the lengths still needed to go before the city can return to its pre-storm levels.

Unfortunately, Hurricane Gustav threatens the impressive progress that has been made since Katrina, which left 80 percent of the city under water. It is being predicted that Gstav will land about 75 miles southwest of New Orleans as a Category 4 hurricane. Now, it is not fair to compare to Katrina, which landed directly over the city as a Category 3, but at that level, Gustav will supply "hurricane force" winds that could overtop the levies of the Mississippi River, flooding parts of suburban New Orleans south of Downtown.

This could be devastating for a city still struggling to repopulate and rebuild. What repeatedly struck me during my trips to New Orleans was the resiliency of its inhabitants, whom I expected to complain of corrupt and ineffective government in responding to Katrina. Instead, I found people prepared to rebuilt and expectant for life to return to normal. No where was blame placed; just a determination to restart.

Gustav threatens that spirit and hope. Asking people to recover just three years after another storm that wipes out their lives may prove too much, and this beautiful city may be lost forever. Too many think of New Orleans as Bourbon Street and the French Quarter. But what lives there is a proud people, a strong and determined people with a spirit that belies their situation, and it would be a terrible loss to the world if it is undone by a hurricane. Please pray for the city, that they may be spared another horrible disaster. And pray too, for whoever is stricken by its winds and rain, that they may survive and recover.

Walk to Work

I was struck this morning by the number of people the city of Metropolis employs to sweep the streets and keep the city clean as I walked to my office. At one point, I was waiting for the light to change to cross on to the other side, and I took a few moments to watch an aforementioned employee go about his trade.

He was equipped with a broom and a dust pan, and I came upon him as he swept up the brick-lined gutter filled with cigarette butts, candy wrappers and dirt. I watched as he worked the broom with skill honed from years of toiling, expertly extricating even the most stubborn of cigarette butts from the cracks. He failed to recognize me, but I couldn't look away.

I wanted to thank him, to reach out and shake his hand, but I restrained, for I feared making mention of his job and thanking him for it would be taken as degrading and insulting coming from a well-dressed college-aged student on his way to the office. But the encounter touched me, left me thinking of the complex cause and effect nature of our world, and how little we understand it.

This man has probably spent the better part of his adult life with a broom in his hand, cleaning up after people who were unwilling to hold on to trash to place it in a receptacle, or after a receptacle overloaded by refuse, or by smokers who finished their vice before reaching an ashtray. I wondered how he would have spent his life if his profession was unnecessary, if individuals took it upon themselves to ensure the cleanliness we take for granted. I thought about all the times I littered, of how someone was forced to come behind me and pick up my trash. And then I began to think more, about what other common actions of mine force someone to complete a remedial task for their wealth.

That long ago physics lesson seemed so clear to me, the one that taught me that every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Everything I choose to do, everything I choose to say, bears consequences for someone else, and often, someone I have never met. It gave me an awesome feeling of power and importance, but also a pang of guilt that my selfishness caused someone else hardship. Yes, I can make an impact with relative ease, but how often is it a negative one?

The world is full of men like the one I witnessed today, some who are probably grateful and happy for the world's hubris, because it pays their bills. But, it is a sad reality that his resources are used for something so trivial, necessitated by momentary but recurring laziness. I wondered about his story as the light turned green and I passed by. I wondered how he had gotten the job, how he feels when people simply pass him by, how he feels when the shift is over and he heads home. Mostly, I wondered why I was scared to reach out and thank him, and why I failed to overcome that fear.

Living with the Law

Thursday night, I went over to a satellite house to watch the Olympics and have a few beers after work. Originally, there were rumors of an attempted party, but as 8 p.m. became 10:30 and it became apparent the party wasn't coming together, I decided to head home.

Beer has become an incredibly expensive commodity in State College Town. The newly minted 21-year old I am, I offered to go on the beer run. I collect the money, stop at the first liquor store, pick up two 30 racks of Natty Light and I talked my accomplice (who was fronting most of the money) into a diverging from his Blue Moon to try a six-pack of my favorite wheat beer. Total cost: $43. Pretty steep.

So, as I was leaving, I grabbed a beer for my walk home and headed out. I cross onto one of the main drags in State College Town, pausing to cross the street until a blue Jeep Cherokee waves me across the cross walk. I cross in front of the Jeep, which then makes a left hand turn, slows, and begins to roll its window down.

"Hey, where'd you get that beer?" the college-aged driver asks.

Assuming it was two guys rolling around looking for a party, but wary they were sizing me up, I kept my distance, and politely explained I was simply coming from my friends house and was on my way home to culminate my evening.

"You know, you aren't supposed to be drinking that outside," the driver says as he rolls down his tinted window, exposing the inside of the vehicle. I then discover this is no college student; it's two cops in an unmarked car. Shit.

"Could you stand over to the side, please?" the officer driving sternly asks.

Driver follows me over to the opposite side of the road and asks for ID. I hand it to him.

"Are you a student here?" I produce my student ID. He retreats back to the truck, leaving me with his even younger looking partner.

Now, I have an exemplary legal record, having never been so much as cited for a speeding ticket. So, with that backing me and my driver's education classes screaming through my brain, I play it cool and polite.

"So, where are you headed?" Passenger asks.

"I'm headed home for the evening, Officer," I reply.

"Where is home?" I tell him.

Where were you coming from?" I explain my after-work location.

"Oh, where do you work?" I tell him, only to be asked the minutiae of my day. I explain all with brilliant eloquence and startling clarity. I had only had a couple beers to this point.

"How old are you?" he finally asks, as his partner stumbles in the dark trying to read the impossibly small figures on my license. I tell him I recently celebrated my 21st birthday.

"Oh, you haven't had your ID changed over yet?" It still warns I am under-21, and my home state has horizontal licenses for over-21, whereas mine is still vertical.

He continues to make chitchat while his partner pores over my state issued ID. Driver finally comes back, pulls Passenger aside, and they talk for a few minutes. Driver then comes back.

"You understand, alcohol can only be consumed inside or, if you have to go outside with it, in a paper bag." Whoa, TIME.

"You are actually allowed to drink outside if the container is in a paper bag?" Nice, asshole. The cop is going to let you go and you get smart with him.

"Well, yes, but I wouldn't recommend it." He launches into a lengthy speech about underage drinking and the partying that is sure to commence along with school within the week.

He finishes, hands me back my IDs, and warns me to keep it inside. I thank him, and stretch out my hand to shake his.

"OH, I don't shake hands. I hope you don't take any offense." Hey, you didn't give me a very costly and annoying ticket, we're old friends. Whatever, pal.

"None at all, officer, have a pleasant night," as I turned and fled.

A new year brings new fortune. If this had happened a month before, I could have had a very costly ticket, both in price and reputation, on my hands. But, instead, I got off with a slap on the wrist. I like to think I had something to do with it, remaining calm, making polite chitchat with Passenger, and having a record boasting of years of model behavior. Cops are in authority, and they want to be treated like it. Next time you get pulled over, treat them politely and with respect, or if you can't do that, have your sultry girlfriend take care of it for you. Until next time.

Food for thought on my 21st Birthday

Your birthday is always an interesting day, a day when casual acquiantences come out of the woodwork to wish you a pleasant day and a fruitful year.

But what I always find fascinating is the general apathy people have towards one another on a regular basis. Let me give you an example.

My state college is huge, and meandering in and out of many a drunken night, especially in the Greek System, you meet a variety of people. However, these niceties tend to end when the beer stops flowing. I have always resented the fact that people are not friendlier with one another, simply taking a few moments to stop and say hello.

Now, there is many a day when I am in no mood to stop and say hello to everyone that walks by; I'm busy too and have places to be. It reminds me of the Seinfeld episode when Kramer puts everyone's picture in the building in the lobby so they can chit chat with one another, but Jerry is trying to get away from kissing hello. However, it irks me to notice someone from 20 yards away that I've been introduced to, and have to decide as we bridge this gap if they remember me, should I say hello, do I look away, make eye contact and smile? It's all very confusing, and for an extremely vain part of our population, somewhat astounding that we do not go to this small length to increase the number of Facebook friends we have.

I have often considered trying for a whole day to say "Hello" to everyone I encounter, and it is admittedly terribly difficult. It is worth the effort just for the responses; some are confounded, others smile gently, and even more are truly touched by the small courtesy that is so rarely offered to them. Society has a terrible fear of the unknown, and no where is it more obvious than in people's behavior towards strangers.

So, I challenge you; step out of your comfort zone. Offer help to someone who is clearly confused or directionally challenged. Instead of honking the horn, pull up along side them, roll down your window, and offer your assistance. It can dramatically improve your day, and you never know how much that stranger next to you may need a kind word.

Tonight I will be out drinking legally for the first time in my life. A little excited, a little nervous. Plan on a Thursday update. Until then

Into the Favre Fray

I will attempt to stay away from the sports landscape in this space because there are enough people spewing their opinions on the topic elsewhere. But, this Favre act never ceases to amaze and annoy me.

I will admit, I have never liked Brett Favre. Fantastic quarterback? Absolutely. Gritty competitor? Of course. Overall nice guy? To the media, it would seem so. But, I have never been one to fall in love with athletes or celebrities shoved down my throat.

I've always been fascinated by how athletes are adored. The Monday night game when Favre threw for 4 TDs against a sub-par Raiders team after his father passed away? No question it was difficult, but people deal with their parent's death every day, why in God's name is Brett Favre so wonderful that he received around the clock coverage during his father's illness? Where did this adulation come from?

Well, John Madden is largely to blame. Frank Caliendo has a great skit on Letterman
about the famous broadcaster's sickening adulation for Favre. But as Sal Paolantonio writes, is it even deserved?

Now, much has been written about how the Packers will be a better team with Favre, a potential Super Bowl team with him, and could possibly struggle with Aaron Rodgers at quarterback, but I disagree. First, read Paolantonio's piece about Favre's postseason struggles since a Super Bowl win 11 years ago. You read that right, 11 years ago. Second, how can you blame the Packers? Favre has done this waffling crap the past few seasons, stringing along the Packers and forcing them to wait until after their mini-camps and voluntary team activities to know if they'd have him back or if they would be forced to move on. They had unexpected success in a down year in the NFL (don't agree? How in God's name did a team go undefeated then? And how did Eli Manning win a Super Bowl?) with a young team that Favre said as early as last year wasn't good enough to compete!

The Packers finally have had enough. They are not interested in allowing a player who hasn't delivered a championship in more than a decade, had been in serious decline prior to last season and blasted his young teammates before last season to hold their franchise hostage again. And, unless you have Brady or the elder Manning, the Super Bowl winners since John Elway last won one have been a crapshoot any way.

1998- DEN with John Elway
1999- Ditto
2000-STL with Kurt Warner (where did he come from? and where did he disappear to?)
2001- BAL with Trent Dilfer (This team failed to score a touchdown for a whole month)
2002- NE with Brady (First year starter, soon to be known as one of the all-time greats)
2003- TB with Brad Johnson (Best known for his noodle arm act that Chad Pennington attempts to duplicate)
2004- NE with Brady
2005- NE with Brady
2006- PIT with Ben Roethlisburger (First year starter)
2007- IND with P. Manning (Finally broke through)
2008- NYG with E. Manning (Horribly inconsistent and at times God-awful before catching fire at end of year; made me question validity of NFL, will go down as one of worst QBs to ever get a ring)

The last three winners have been first-timers. Favre had his best chance last season and fell short. It would be unrealistic to believe Favre will improve on last season with an improved Vikings team in the division, and following an aberration of a season based on his past few. The team needed to move on, they did, and it was absurd for Brett to believe he could waltz back in and be welcomed with open arms by people who have been working since March while he was lounging in Mississippi. Go away Brett, we have had enough.

To the Shore!

One of the great joys of summer. The air is sweet, the sun is bright, the girls are lightly clad and the days are wonderfully lazy. The beach is a great place to get your frat on, but I enjoyed a quiet, relaxing partial week with Audrey, my parents, Lil' Sis and her boyfriend.

A very quiet week overall. The beach trip has become somewhat of a meditation period for me, a retreat from the normal in an overwhelmingly beautiful local. Laying on the beach in the dead of night, gazing at the night sky as the waves crash a mere ten feet away is a paralyzing experience on just how powerful and vast the world is. The ocean looks huge during the day as you stand on it's bank and stare out to the horizon, but it is completely dwarfed by the night sky with its millions of stars uninhibited by the light pollution of urban life. I couldn't help but hypothesize at what else is out there as I gazed at stars that have galaxies zooming around them millions of miles away.

I love to lie on the beach at night and consider my place in the vast expanse, wondering my value, wondering any detriment I might be to existence, wondering where to improve and where to go in my life. But I also like to joke that the night sky is God's IMAX, allowing you to reminisce and play out your memories on the biggest screen known to man.

I shared this experience with Audrey, and we lay under the stars talking for hours about our relationship, our future, our senior years, our friends, our jobs. Everything and anything, we meandered for hours.

But I realized something later, and I'd like to share my thought. At soon to be 21-years old, I know little of what to expect from the world and my life. And to this point, I have largely lived my life in the constructs of my parents' rules, or society's rules, and, to a large extent, the rules of my Catholic faith. But as I sat under the stars with Audrey in my arms, I began to think about my daily actions, and how much they are concerned with the future. I was particularly struck by something Audrey said.

"I always expect to be happy with things in my life, but am disappointed when I'm not," she said. "But I've realized that my happiness is up to me, and you have to make yourself happy."

I wasn't entirely clear on what she meant, but I didn't ask her to clarify, because it struck me personally, and I selfishly wished to hold on to my interpretation. Many times I feel like I'm pushing through my current situation, hoping for something on the horizon, expecting the culmination of one thing and the beginning of another to make me happy, but it's rarely the case. Too often we work too hard for the future at the expense of our present, or waste our present with the promise that it will be better in our future. Carpe Diem, I have heard so many times, but, while clichéd, is somewhat true.

College is an eye-opening experience, and not always in a good way. Your life was run by your parents, school schedule, coaches and by your friends in high school. You chose activities and friends based on the values passed on to you from above, and while the thrill of stepping outside of these lines gave pleasure, you mostly lived a happy existence within the constraints. But college affords you freedom; no longer are your parents in the other room with an eye over your shoulder. Gone are the rigid schedules of high school, the teachers who are quick to correct and the friends you grew up with. College brings with it a four-year window to set your course in life, to choose a career and work towards your degree. Some fail to escape their parents' shadow, and study the discipline hand-picked by their care-givers. Others choose not to be concerned with it, and blissfully spend their time in various frivolous pursuits. But, the one who can treat college as a unique experience, one that can provide perspectives unfounded at other junctures in life is the one who excels.

I spent my freshman year confused and depressed. I longed for a continuation of my high school experience, where I was respected and admired by peers and faculty alike. But in college, I was an unknown entity, and I would have to again prove myself.

My sophomore year was the one of a wise fool. I pledged in the fall, and absorbed all the fun fraternity life had to offer. I planted the seeds of my social life, ones that I reap still to this day. But, I neglected my school work, performed miserably, and suffered under increased supervision from my disgruntled parents and their diminishing trust in my judgment and abilities.

Junior year, anxious to recover from a poor sophomore year, I fretted about the future, about my savings account, or lack thereof, and my accomplishments from college. What had I achieved? What had I learned? I had so many goals as I clutched my diploma in June 2005, and few of them had been realized.

But as I lay on that beach gazing at the Earth's roof with Audrey's words reverberating through my brain, it dawned on me. "Life goes by pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it." My college lesson is this; I've lived it. Degree in hand will help for sure, but that is merely where a college education begins. College is about taking control of your own life, and being happy with it. Your friends, your apartment, your XBox or your 3.5 GPA aren't worth a damn if you aren't happy.

But, don't ask yourself what you want; ask yourself what you have, and go from there. So often all people need is right in front of them, but they are distracted by chasing something placed in their conscience by an outside source. Happiness cannot be defined by the media, or your friends or your parents, it has to be defined by yourself. You aren't too young to fall madly in love, and you aren't too old to build a sandcastle at the beach. We spend so much time worrying and fretting about how many people we know at the bar, and so little time on ourselves. Take a moment today, and ask yourself the last time you felt pure, unadulterated joy, or marveled at something rare and beautiful. And, if you find yourself saying you are too busy now to make it happen, remember, tomorrow can wait for today, because without today, there is no tomorrow.