Flow State

Jul 26 2026 2026-07-26 2026-07-26 No Comment by Ross

Sometimes the Best Things Weren’t on the Itinerary….

One of the things we’ve always tried to do with our place in Utah is strike a balance between the familiar and the new. We’ve had our favorite places for years now. Favorite hikes. Favorite lakes. Favorite restaurants. We always seem to end up back at the same bakery, the same trails, the same scenic overlooks. But every trip we also make a point of trying something we’ve never done before.

Over the years, that’s led us to minor league baseball games, Real Salt Lake matches, Utah Mammoth hockey, junior hockey, new restaurants in Park City and Salt Lake City, and all sorts of little adventures that never would have happened if we’d just stuck to our routine.

Last night was one of those “let’s try something different” moments.

Park City Film was hosting a screening at the library of a documentary called Best Day Ever. I’d seen a short news story about it beforehand and thought it sounded interesting. The film was produced by the Kelly Brush Foundation, which helps people with spinal cord injuries and other disabilities stay active through adaptive sports.

I’m really glad we went.

The documentary follows the construction of Vermont’s first adaptive mountain bike trail and centers on adaptive cyclist Greg Durso. Calling him inspirational almost feels like selling him short. His personality practically bounces off the screen. More importantly, he’s simply an incredible athlete. Watching him ride terrain that I wouldn’t even attempt on two fully functioning legs was equal parts humbling and exhilarating.

The film also follows a young woman, Allie, who was paralyzed in a mountain biking accident as she returns to ride the very trail where her life changed forever. Her courage wasn’t loud or dramatic. It was simply matter-of-fact. This happened. Life changed. Now let’s keep living.

If *Best Day Ever* comes to a theater near you or starts streaming somewhere, I can’t recommend it enough. Stay for the credits if you can.

In our case, there was a panel discussion afterward. I was a little disappointed that Greg Durso and Allie couldn’t make it, but two local adaptive athletes took part instead, including Wally Lee.

His story hit me hard.

Wally was married with children when he was paralyzed. Years later, his wife developed cancer and eventually passed away. He wasn’t selling inspiration. He wasn’t pretending every day was wonderful. In fact, he specifically acknowledged that not every day is the “best day ever.” But when he talked about taking one last bike ride with his wife before she died……I just reached over and held my own wife’s hand.

Moments like that hit my gratitude bone. I’m grateful that I can walk. Grateful that I have my health. Grateful that my wife was sitting beside me.

But there was another lesson that was somehow even more comforting.

We all imagine certain things as the absolute worst that could happen to us. Paralysis. Losing a spouse. Catastrophic life changes. And yet here were person after person showing that even after those things happened, life wasn’t over.

They weren’t asking for pity.

They weren’t asking for sympathy.

They were busy living.

Laughing.

Riding bikes.

Helping others.

Finding purpose.

Finding joy.

It was unbelievably uplifting.

The evening also clarified something I’ve been thinking about as retirement gets closer.

I’ve said for a while that when I’m done teaching, I want to spend my time around people who actually want to be where they are. Maybe that’s a ski resort. Maybe a cooking school. Maybe a pool. After last night, I could absolutely see myself volunteering with Utah’s National Ability Center, helping people learn to ski or ride adaptive bikes—especially wounded veterans.

There is so much meaningful work to be done in the world. It doesn’t all happen inside bureaucracies.

Sometimes it happens on a bike trail.

Sometimes it happens in a volunteer organization.

Sometimes it happens on the third floor of a public library.

And sometimes you stumble into exactly what you needed simply because you decided to try something new.

Jul 23 2026 2026-07-23 2026-07-23 No Comment by Ross

The Break I Needed….

Posted in Life, Travel

Every summer I spend a few weeks in Utah, and every summer I’m reminded why I keep coming back. I like to think of Utah as the opposite of Chicago.

Mountains instead of flat land. Wide open spaces instead of feeling hemmed in by buildings. Quiet instead of constant noise. Lower stress instead of higher stress. Fewer people. Less traffic. Less crime. It just feels like there’s room to breathe.

My wife drove out with me this year, and even the trip itself was different. I’m usually a “get from Point A to Point B as fast as humanly possible” traveler: gas, bathroom, food (same exit if possible). Keep moving.

This time we slowed down. We took the scenic route through Colorado, spent the night in Vail, wandered around town, and had dinner. It wasn’t some bucket-list destination or grand adventure. It was simply nice to stop somewhere we’d never really explored before. Funny how much more enjoyable travel becomes when you stop treating it like a race.

Since getting to Utah, we’ve packed our days with exactly the right amount of activity.

We’ve gone swimming, hiked several trails, had dinner with friends, done yoga in the park, gone stand-up paddle boarding, and found plenty of time to rest. I’ve read books. We’ve watched movies in the evenings. We’ve sat outside without feeling like we needed to be doing something productive.

Mostly, I’ve just been present. For the first time in quite a while, my brain has been quiet. No job stress. No worrying about what’s next. No kid stress. Just sunshine, mountain air, good company, and a reminder that life doesn’t always have to be lived at full speed.

Tomorrow is Pioneer Day, which means I’ll start the morning with a small-town 5K before heading to the Provo River for some tubing. Then we’ll finish the day at a demolition derby, which feels like the most American sentence I’ve written in a while.

Saturday will probably involve another hike or maybe kayaking before we go to a movie screening at the local library. Sunday we’ll drive into Salt Lake City to try another restaurant that’s been on my list before my wife flies home. After that, I’ll have a day and a half of solitude before a friend arrives for another week of mountain adventures.

As someone who tends to stay busy, I’ve realized something this week. Rest isn’t just the absence of work. It’s the presence of things that restore you.

For me, that’s mountains. Water. Books. Movement. Friends. Quiet mornings. Long conversations. Sunshine. Trying new places. And occasionally floating down a river before watching cars smash into each other at a demolition derby.

Balance.

After the last few months, this trip has been exactly what I needed. I can feel my nervous system settling down. My mind is quieter. My shoulders feel lighter.

Sometimes the best thing you can do isn’t solve another problem (many of which nobody asked you to solve or don’t need solving because they are just in your imagination). It’s simply go somewhere that reminds you who you are when you’re not carrying all of them.

Jul 16 2026 2026-07-16 2026-07-15 No Comment by Ross

Because This Is My First Layoff….

Posted in Life

One of my favorite Korean dramas is Because This Is My First Life. The title always struck me as odd until one of the characters explains it:

“This life… is everyone’s first.”

Such a simple idea. We’ve never been this age before. We’ve never had this exact collection of experiences before. Every new chapter of life is, by definition, the first time we’ve lived it. It’s a great way to think about life as we live it.

That’s what I was thinking about today.

I’ve never been laid off before. I know people who have. I’ve read about it. I’ve certainly imagined what it might feel like. But imagining something and experiencing it are two different things.

It’s strange. Not because I don’t know what’s next. Not because I’m panicked. Just because my brain keeps saying, “Huh… so this is what this feels like.” We expect ourselves to have the proper emotional response to every situation, but why would we? When we’re doing something for the first time, we’re making it up as we go.

The first day of high school.

The first date.

The first child.

The first funeral of someone close to us.

The first time we watch our parents grow old.

The first layoff.

None of us has a script.

Looking back, every chapter of my life that once felt unfamiliar eventually became normal. Somewhere along the way, I stopped being the new lawyer. I stopped being the new teacher. I stopped feeling like I had no idea what I was doing. This chapter will probably be the same.

Maybe that’s what I like so much about that line from the show. It reminds me to give myself a little grace.

After all, this is my first layoff.

Just like everything else in life, I’ve never been here before.

Jul 16 2026 2026-07-16 2026-07-16 No Comment by Ross

A Blip In Time…

Posted in Life

I cleaned out my classroom today.

Not much drama. A few books, some photos, my coffee mug, posters, and some other personal items.

The strange part wasn’t packing up.

It was realizing how routine the whole thing is.

Big organizations just keep moving. People come. People go. The machine rolls on.

I remember a great Onion article about a guy who returned to the restaurant where he used to work, expecting some emotional reunion, only to discover everyone basically shrugged because half the staff had turned over and nobody knew who he was. That’s life.

My school was there before I arrived seven years ago. It’ll be there after I’m gone. During my time there, plenty of teachers left. New ones arrived. Administrators changed. Students graduated. Freshmen showed up. The school kept humming along.

It was the same in the Army Reserve. New commanders. New NCOs. Different soldiers.

Same thing at the State’s Attorney’s Office. New State’s Attorneys. New assistant state’s attorneys. New investigators.

Nobody’s indispensable. The world is surprisingly good at continuing without asking our permission.

It’s a little unsettling, though.

It feels like one of those parallel-universe science fiction movies. Somewhere there’s the universe where I still teach at my school. In this universe, someone else will eventually be in my room, sitting at my desk, wondering why the previous teacher left so many paper clips.

Give it a few years and there will probably be only a handful of people there who even remember I worked there.

Oddly enough, that’s also a pretty good description of life.

The world got along just fine for billions of years before I showed up. I’ll get my little blip. A couple of generations after I’m gone, I’ll mostly be a name on a family tree. Eventually, probably not even that. Meanwhile, the planet will keep spinning, kids will keep going to school, somebody else will teach AP Government, and somebody else will inherit the office chair I left behind.

You can find that depressing if you want.

I actually find it freeing.

It reminds me not to take myself quite so seriously.

Tonight I’m going to my music lesson. Then I’ll come home, spend time with my wife, probably make myself a martini, and be grateful for another ordinary evening.

Because that’s the deal.

We don’t get forever.

We get the blip.

Might as well enjoy the hell out of it.

Jul 15 2026 2026-07-15 2026-07-15 No Comment by Ross

Unplanned job change….

Posted in Work

Life has definitely been a roller coaster the last few years. Today was another dip. I got laid off.

Now, before everyone starts sending sympathy cards, let me add a little context. I knew it was coming. It still landed with a bit of a thud, but as layoffs go, I’m probably one of the last people who should complain.

First, my wife has been the family’s primary breadwinner for the last 18 years. We’re going to be okay financially.

Second, I was only planning on working another couple of years anyway.

Third, thanks to the wonderful world of Chicago Public Schools, I get to spend the next school year in the “reassigned teacher pool.” Translation: They’ll keep paying me my full salary while they send me somewhere else. That somewhere will either be a school that struggles to hire people (draw your own conclusions), or I’ll become a full-time substitute. Neither option was on my vision board, but I can handle either for a year.

Honestly, I know a lot more than I did nine years ago when I first walked into a difficult school. I’ve made plenty of mistakes, learned from them, and I’m far less likely to let the job consume me. If I end up in a challenging building, I’ll survive. I’ve done it before.

Still…it’s weird.

I’m 60 years old, and this is the first time I’ve ever been fired or laid off. Every other job I’ve ever had ended because I chose to leave. There’s something about having someone else make that decision for you that feels a little strange, even when you know it’s coming and even when, logically, you know you’ll be fine.

And I will be fine.

In fact, sitting here, I mostly feel grateful. Our kids are grown. The house will be paid off in about a year. We don’t have student loans hanging over us or little kids depending on every paycheck. We have been diligent about saving and investing for retirement, and were fortunate to inherit some money when my parents passed away.

I don’t know who else lost their jobs today, but I do know they’re almost certainly younger than I am. Many probably have toddlers at home, daycare bills, mortgages, student loans, and careers they thought were just getting started. For them, this could be a genuine crisis.

For me? It’s mostly an inconvenience.

Sure, it joins a fairly impressive collection of life’s little plot twists over the last five years. Apparently, the universe subscribed me to the “character-building” package. But compared to what so many people deal with, this barely registers.

Besides, on Friday, I leave for my annual summer trip to Utah. I’ll hike, bike, swim, kayak, and SUP. I’ll eat good food. I’ll spend time with great people. I’ll stare at mountains that have absolutely no interest in my employment status. I’ll breathe clean air, unplug a little, and remember that the world is still a pretty amazing place.

Life is funny like that. One day, you’re cleaning out your classroom. Three days later, you’re sitting on a mountain wondering why you ever worried in the first place.

It’s still a great day to be alive.

Jul 06 2026 2026-07-06 2026-07-06 No Comment by Ross

Two Wrongs Don’t Make a Right…

Posted in Sports

I’m with the crowd that thinks there was no cause for the red card against Folarin Balogun in the last USMNT game. At best, it should have been a yellow. There was no intent or malice and, as many people have pointed out, Lionel Messi didn’t receive a red card for a more egregious incident.

So yes, I’m happy Balogun will play tonight because the suspension was lifted.

But I don’t think it was the right call.

The United States didn’t have the right to appeal the suspension. By FIFA’s rules, Balogun should have been out. Instead, calls from President Trump—or at least from people in his administration – to the head of FIFA apparently persuaded the organization to invoke some rule and lift the suspension.

Great. I understand that there is technically a mechanism that allowed FIFA to do it. But it feels unseemly.

The original decision was wrong, but using political pressure to overturn it doesn’t suddenly make it right. Two wrongs don’t make a right.

And now we’ve created a precedent. Last night England received a red card. What happens if Prime Minister Keir Starmer picks up the phone? Does England get the same treatment? If Argentina calls on Messi’s behalf? If Brazil calls for one of its stars?

Rules lose their meaning when they only apply until someone influential enough complains.

And yes, I know FIFA lifted a suspension against Cristiano Ronaldo back in November so he could play. If that’s true, I think that was wrong too.

What I’d rather see is FIFA amend its rules and allow appeals of red cards in cases of obvious error. Other sports have recognized that officials can make mistakes and have created procedures to correct them. That seems like a fair and transparent solution. Better (in my humble opinion) is to make red cards more like hockey penalties. The player leaves the pitch for 10 minutes, and the team plays a man down. I don’t really get the “and miss the next game.” Seems pretty harsh.

Nevertheless, as long as there is no right to appeal, the call should stand unless FIFA decides entirely on its own to review the situation – not because a president or prime minister makes a phone call.

Bad calls happen in sports. So does injustice.

The answer can’t be, “Well, our side benefited this time.”

Jul 04 2026 2026-07-04 2026-07-04 No Comment by Ross

Random Fact of the Day….

Posted in Chicago

From AI:

Chicago’s Leavitt Street is named after David Leavitt, a New York banker and financier who played an important role in saving the construction of the Illinois and Michigan Canal.

In the 1840s, the canal project was running out of money and in danger of collapsing. Leavitt, who represented bondholders and helped arrange financing to complete the canal, was instrumental in keeping the project alive. The canal’s completion in 1848 transformed Chicago into a major transportation and commercial hub by linking the Great Lakes to the Mississippi River system. In gratitude for his efforts, Chicago named Leavitt Street after him.

It’s one of many Chicago streets named after people who helped build the city, even though David Leavitt himself was a New Yorker and not a Chicago resident.

I’ll do this from time to time, but AI makes it so much easier now. I think most people (including myself) drive down roads all day long without any thought to who they are named for.

Jul 04 2026 2026-07-04 2026-07-04 No Comment by Ross

Ready to Leave This State…

Posted in Old Man Yelling at the Sky

We are literally the only house on our block flying a US flag today. Sigh.

Jul 02 2026 2026-07-02 2026-07-02 No Comment by Ross

From the Something Good Files: A Perfectly Ordinary Day…

Posted in Something Good

Today has been wonderful in a very basic kind of way.

I went for a run this morning before it got too hot. Then I spent some time reading before meeting a friend for lunch. We had delicious Italian beef, dipped with hot peppers. A true Chicago classic.

After lunch, I headed down to the Chicago River for an hour of kayaking. I only saw one other person on the water, probably because it was over 90 degrees. Fine by me. I had the river mostly to myself as I paddled along, looking at the birds, trees, turtles, and ducks.

It’s one of the only times I exercise without listening to music. I genuinely enjoy hearing the wind, the water against the kayak, the birds, and the background hum of the city. It’s peaceful in a way that’s hard to describe.

When I got home, I took a nice cool shower, drank an ice-cold Vitamin Water, and now I’m stretched out on the couch in the air conditioning getting ready to read some more.

Nothing crazy. Nothing life-changing. Just a really good day.

And that’s the point.

All of these little things deserve to be appreciated. I’m able to exercise and move my body. I can read interesting books. I got to have lunch and a good conversation with a friend. Tasty food. A kayak. Open spaces. Nature. A cold shower. Clean drinking water. Air conditioning during a heat wave.

When you start listing them out, it turns out an ordinary day is actually full of gifts. Today reminded me that life is mostly made up of small pleasures stacked one on top of another.

A run before the sun gets too high.
An Italian beef with hot peppers.
An hour alone on the river.
A cold drink.
A good book.
A comfortable couch.

That’s a pretty wonderful way to spend a day.

It’s great to be alive.

Jun 26 2026 2026-06-26 2026-06-26 by Ross

Something Good: A Kayak, a Martini, and a Pretty Great Life

Posted in Something Good

From the “Something Good” files…

Today I spent an hour kayaking on the Chicago River, and it was exactly what I needed it to be.

Recently, I bought a fold-up kayak. I already own an inflatable kayak, and I can say with complete confidence that I do not like it at all. It takes forever to inflate because it has approximately 437 different air chambers that all need attention. Then, once you’re on the water, it feels less like a kayak and more like you’re paddling a giant inner tube.

Oddly enough, I also own an inflatable stand-up paddleboard that is fantastic. It feels as solid as a regular board. The kayak? Not so much.

Some friends own Oru folding kayaks and love them, so I took their recommendation… sort of. I bought a different brand entirely.

I assembled it yesterday in my kitchen to make sure I could figure it out before getting to the river. This led to a wonderful scene when my wife and daughter came home from work and found me sitting in a kayak in the middle of the kitchen.

Fortunately for me, they just rolled their eyes like “of course, Dad is just sitting in a kayak in the kitchen”

Today I carried it down to the dock behind the boathouse near my house and set it up for real. Less than ten minutes. That’s a win right there.

I launched and headed north, against the current. The kayak is on the smaller side and doesn’t exactly track like an America’s Cup yacht. It wanders a bit. Honestly, so do I.

I saw herons, turtles sunning themselves, ducks with ducklings paddling behind them, and all sorts of birds I couldn’t identify but appreciated anyway.

The amazing thing about the Chicago River is that once you’re down in it, surrounded by trees and away from the streets, you’d swear you weren’t in a major city at all. It feels like you’ve escaped to the woods somewhere.

I didn’t paddle far enough north to reach the fancy houses and private docks. Maybe next time. Today wasn’t about exploring. It was about floating. About being outside. About being quiet.

Eventually, I turned around and let the current do some of the work as I drifted back south. I spent about an hour on the water, then packed everything up in less than five minutes.

Sweet.

This is definitely going to become a regular part of my summer.

I grew up behind some lagoons where I can take the kayak. In two weeks, we’re headed to Michigan, where the kayak will make an appearance. Then later this summer it will go to Utah.

Not bad for a little folding boat that fits in the trunk of my car.

And now? An ice-cold martini, a good book, family games with my wife and daughter, pizza, and the NHL Draft on TV.

Days like this make me realize something.

For all the things I worry about, all the things I overthink, and all the times I forget to notice it…