"Bub"

Hello Friends,

  I haven't posted anything on this blog in quite awhile, but I had something I wanted to write about today.

   Yesterday I had to say goodbye to someone who was a major part of my life for a very long time. Last Saturday night I lost my stepfather, Duane "Bubba" Aregood.

  I never knew my biological father. He just wasn't in the picture. As a little kid I was confused and saddened by the situation, but as I got older I realized, some things are for the best. During the very first years of my life, I was raised by my mom and grandparents. There was also a tremendous amount of love and support from aunts, uncles, and cousins who lived close. Like they say, "It takes a village to raise a Mergs."

  When I was four, my mom met, Duane. Right off the bat, he and I got along swimmingly. As a kid I couldn't tell exactly what it was I liked about him so much, other than simply thinking he was just this big, funny dude. Looking back on the way I remember him over the years, he was funny. Hysterical even. But also caring, generous, kind, and full of life. He married my mom when I was five years old.

  Once they married, I not only gained a stepfather, but a whole new half of a family. New grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. Good, solid, salt of the earth people who never treated me as a a stepson or step-anything really. I was just a part of their family now. Duane never treated me as anything less than his own son either. Even though we had a strong bond from the start, I never quiet came around to calling him Dad and he never pushed the issue. I just always referred to him as, "Bub."

  Duane and my mom were together for nearly fourteen years. They divorced during my freshman year of college. Once the divorce happened, Duane and I talked less and less. We were both onto new chapters in our lives. He met a new lady and I was away at Bloomsburg University discovering the boozy joys of a state school education. During my junior year, Duane and I were having a conversation on the phone that turned into an argument. Truth be told, it was an argument about money. That conversation did not end well. We stopped speaking after that...for nearly eight years.

  During those eight years I moved to New York and built a life for myself. New York is full of distractions so it makes it too easy sometimes to forget what really matters. It was eating at me that him and I were no longer part of each others lives, but I thought, "Screw it, if he doesn't want to talk to me, I don't want to talk to him." I have a feeling he was probably of the same mindset.

Pride and Stupidity go hand in hand sometimes.

 When I was getting ready to come home for Easter last month, my mom called and told me she'd found out that Duane was quiet ill. He was in the hospital and in the late stages of pancreatic cancer. That Sunday after dinner I made a trip to the hospital. He was sitting up in a chair by by his bed. I went right in for a hug and he gave me one right back. Instantly we forgot whatever stupid nonsense was between us and it was all love. I think we probably both had the same question on our minds. Why did we waste so much time? While I was at the hospital we talked, laughed, caught up, and most importantly, said I love you to one another. I thought I'd get to see him a few more times before he left, but that was it. Believe me friends, I am beyond grateful for that opportunity.

   Last Saturday night I received a call from my mother around 10PM and she told me he had passed away.

 Wednesday was the viewing. I sat there with my family and talked with people that I hadn't see in years. They offered condolences and spoke about what a wonderful person he was. Upon walking into the funeral home, there was a collage of family photos. Looking at pictures of us together from years ago, I was reminded immediately of how great his spirit was and still is. To see a photo of him smiling is to feel his presence still full of joy and happiness.

  There are two stories about Duane that I think of often, almost daily to be honest.

  The first was when I was fourteen years old. We were on a camping trip with family and friends. It was late one night and everyone was sleeping except for Bub and I. We were sitting by the fire and he let me have a beer. Looking back it was like a scene right out of some hour long family drama on ABC. A father about to drop some knowledge on his kid.

  He asked me , "What kind of career do you think you'll want to pursue when you're older?" I told him I didn't know. He said, "Well, whatever you do...DO-IT-THE-BEST-YOU-CAN." For someone who told a joke every ten seconds, I could tell at that moment he was quite serious.
"If you become a doctor, great. So long as it makes you happy. If you become a garbage man, fine. As long as you love doing it. Whatever you do though, do it the best you can...and I'll love and support you all the same."

  Then we sat for a moment before he said, "Now, there's something else we should probably talk about." The inspiration inside from the previous moment fell away and I was suddenly filled with dread. I knew what was coming. He was about to give me the classic father and son birds and the bees riff. Before I even completely realized what was happening he looked at me and said, "Ya know bud...It ain't just for peein."

    I cracked up.
 
   We sat by the fire and talked about all kinds things that night. Life, love, family, sports. It remains in my heart to be one one of the most important conversations I've had.

  The second memory of Duane that I think of often happened during my senior year of high school. I wrestled during my senior year. Why...I don't know. Terrible idea. I'm quiet sure I was the single worst wrestler in the history of Hanover Area Jr. Sr. High School. It's okay. I made my peace with it long ago. (Let's see Lake Lehman's Heavyweight do a dramatic monologue. I'd own his ass.)
    Anyway, one Friday night I was coming downstairs and he was sitting in the living room watching TV and enjoying a beer. I was about to get picked up by my buddy to head to a party. Duane was an ironworker and often had to be away for work during the week. Friday's right when he got home was when we'd catch up.
  He asked me how wrestling was going and I said, "Okay." I didn't have the heart to tell him how much I hated it. He asked, "What are you learning?" "Um, well-," and before I could finish he stood up and was in the center of the living room. "C'mon show me," he said. Duane wrestled himself at one point, so he wanted to pass on whatever tips he thought would help.
   We talked about this move and that move, but before I knew it, we were in a wrestling match in the center of our living room. I held my own for a minute or so, but I had no desire to draw this out. I was freshly showered and ready to go party with my friends. So, once I found an opportunity, I let my shoulders hit the floor and and I quit. I said, "Alright, I gotta go."
   Duane was never, ever mean to me. To be honest, he was never mean to anyone. He always smiling and full of good energy, but in that moment I could tell he was upset. Upset in a way I'd never seen. As I went to stand he grabbed me by the shoulders, looked me square in the eyes, and through gritted teeth said, "Don't you dare give up! Don't you ever-ever give up! You understand?"
  I was kind of shocked. Rarely had I seen him that aggravated about anything. I got up and left. I didn't say a word. I walked outside and my buddy Josh came driving up. I got in his car and immediately Josh could tell I was upset. I explained what had just happened. At the end of the story I said, "Screw him. He's an asshole." Josh was quiet for a second before he said, "He was trying to teach you something, Mergs." Josh was right. It went beyond wrestling. Even through my horrible season, Duane was nothing but supportive. Not giving up is something that extends far beyond my brief stint in singlet. It's something I have to remind myself of every single day.

   I'm carrying great sadness in my heart for the loss of a good man who filled a much needed role in my life for a long time. I try to remind myself that sadness comes from a good place. It means you experienced something great. Something important. Now, for whatever reason, that good thing had to move on. I think the best we can do with sadness, is grow from it. Learn from it. Be a better person because of it.

   So, If there's someone out there that you want to talk to, reconnect with, and you're holding off for some bullshit reason...call them. Call them now. Shoot em a text, send an email.  Reach out. Maybe they won't reach back, but at least you tried. You worried about your pride? How good you think you feel because of your pride, will be nothing compared to how shitty you'll feel due to regret.

  That being said...

    It's going to be beautiful outside this weekend. So, I'm going to spend it the way I know Bub would have. I'm gonna head outside and feel the sun hit my face. I'm going to take a moment and give thanks for the air in my lungs. Spend some time with my family and eat some good food. Be with my friends and buy them a drink while I do my best to make them laugh. If you're carrying sadness in you're heart for Duane, if you're carrying sadness in your hear for anything, I suggest you do the same. It's all just good for the soul.

  And remember, in the words of great man:

One - Whatever it is you do in life, do it the best you can.
Two - Never, ever give up.
Three - It ain't just for peein.

Thanks and be well friends,

Mergs.

Duane J. Aregood

Ping's Clips: The Karate Kid

It's a long one today. It's one of my favorites though. Everyone of us has our own Cobra Kai. They're our negative thoughts and actions that chase us around trying to tell us who we are. If we let them, they'll take over our lives. If we believe in ourselves though, if we fight no matter how scared we might be, no matter how much it hurts, we can beat them. We can win. We can get some of that hot Elizabeth Shue ass.

Enjoy.

Pang Says, "You're the best around. You watch now!!!"

Guidelines and Building Blocks.

      I've been here before...many, many times. It's a dangerous place to be. It's always been a sort of fork in the road for me. I'll be walking along my path for weeks without trouble and suddenly the road splits. One way will take me back the way I came, but I don't want to take that path again. The other will take me forward into the future, into the light.

      Holy shit that's a lot of metaphor for a Tuesday. What am I talking about? It's been roughly eight weeks since I began exercising, watching what I eat, and keeping the blog. I've seen progress and it feels good. I'm 7 runs away from completing the 5K Runner App on my iPhone. So, what's with all of the gloomy shit in the previous paragraph?

    This is usually the time for me when an attempted health change goes south. I get cocky and arrogant, because I get bored. I lose a few pounds and start thinking I can go back to my old ways. In less than half the time it took me to get here, I end up right back where I started. I don't wanna do that this time, gang. I can't. I'm glad that I recognize where I am and how I've treated that place in the past. Now, how keep motivated and keep evolving?

   The blog, and this entire approach to change, has mostly been based on one principal; baby steps. Lots of small changes, that eventually add up to grand results. I didn't try any crazy diets and I don't exercise two hours a day six days a weeks. Here are some things I did do a day at a time.

Cut out soda. Even the diet stuff because Aspartame is the devil.
No fast food. High on calories, no nutrition.
Watch the weed. I like pot and I'll still have a puff, just not every night with a pizza and pint of ice cream.
Run. I'm like a proud parent talking about the 5K Runner App. Truth is though, it's been incredible.
Don't eat late at night. Like a big Italian Mogwai, don't feed me after midnight. Most days, I don't eat after 5pm.
Watch the calories. Say what you want about counting calories, but calories in vs calories out is the very basis of how we lose and gain weight.
Get some color on that plate. More fruit and more veggies.
Watch the sweets. There wasn't a day that went by that I didn't eat dessert. Now, maybe once a week.

It was over the course of a month that I collected this list of, I don't even want to call them rules because I don't think of them that way. Guidelines sounds better to me.  They're mine. They're what works for me based on my life and my schedule.

Now it's time to add one more and shake things up a bit. How bout a new App?

Jonah Hill lost a fuck ton of weight last year. I was watching an interview with him a few months back and he had an interesting answer when someone asked him how he lost so much weight. He said that someone told him once that if you do a hundred push up a day, you'll never be out of shape. If Superbad can do it, I can do it.

There's an App called, "Hundred PushUps" being downloaded onto my phone right now. In the same style as the Runner App, it's a week by week guide to helping you achieve the goal of...well doing a hundred push ups I guess. I've heard numerous folks refer to the push up as, "The Perfect Exercise." I hope they're right. I hope this is another building block that keeps me challenged and motivated. Oh, and of course I'll let you know what I think of it.

It's time for a run gang. I hope you're all having a good Tuesday.

Ping's Clips: Miracle

Today's Ping's Clip come to you from the flick, Miracle.

I hope Thursday is good to you.


Ping Says: "You watch Snake!"

A Table Story Part 2: Help

 

    

 If you haven't read the post, A Table Story Part I, you may want to look at it simply because the following will make more sense. It'd be like watching Jedi without seeing Empire...but with less Ewoks. 

Okay, here we go.

     "I'm not telling you that you should lose weight because of how you look. It's not about that. I'm telling you that you should lose weight, because I don't want to see you suffer. I'm old. I know what it's like when you get on in years. Take a look around here. See all these people. You're as good and as smart as any man in this room, but you're paying for something that's not your fault. Someone has their foot on you. There's another person inside of you that I can see, and that person deserves to come out. Like I said, it's not about how you look. Do you understand?"

     The quote above was said to me out of the clear blue sky by a gentleman named Peter. A regular at a restaurant I worked at this past winter. In many ways, it was the catalyst for where I am now and where I'm hopefully headed. 

     I think that people who are thin have an idea about people who are overweight. I feel like that idea goes something like this; that person is heavy because they enjoy being heavy.

     Some folks will tell you that food can be an addiction. I believe process of overeating can certainly be an addictive behavior. To me it was always more of an escape. An escape from the pain of...something.

     If you're overdoing it on anything in life, no matter what it might be, it's usually because you're using that vice as a way to soothe yourself or numb yourself up a bit. A way to take your focus off some deeper issue that's often too much to deal with. Some of those problems may be current and close to the surface, while other may be something from the past. 

    This is why losing weight can be so difficult for so many people. Diet and exercise are hard enough, but if you can't take some time to examine where this awful behavior came from in the first place, they become even harder. Nearly impossible even or at least they feel like that.

     Drugs, booze, Pringles...none of these things are necessarily bad, but our overuse of any of them as a way to avoid dealing with a deeper issue can lead to disaster. That's why it drives me crazy when people are hurtful to others because they simply judge them on an assumption that if they're miserable, they must enjoy being miserable. That's just not the case. I don't know anyone who is extremely unhealthy in one way or another and at the same time are also happy about it. 

     Everyone is different. What's works for me is what works for me and not necessarily someone else. However, this is my blog so all I can do is tell you what works for me. It is still early in my romance with trying to be a better friend to myself. The 20lbs I've lost over the last few weeks are nothing compared to a lifetime. All I can do is take things a day at a time and do my best to stay the course. 

    Before I began the blog, before I began a lot of things lately, I needed to start looking at myself. Why was I letting myself pile misery on top of misery? I was mostly doing it because I wasn't satisfied with my life as it stands. I was focused on the negative. Like Jon Favreau in Swingers, I was focusing on what I don't have instead of what I do. Instead of taking action to make my life better, it was just easier to lie on the couch and stuff my face night after night. Thing is, that never made anything better. It only made it worse. It was a viscous, horrible cycle. 

   If you feel like you're overdoing on food or booze or anything because you're unhappy about work or family or something, you're putting out the fire with gasoline. I feel like a better idea is to take a few steps back, recognize the problem, and ask yourself honestly, "How do I fix this?" And if you don't know how and you need help, ask for it. You will be AMAZED by the amount of people who will be there to help. Once you can look at the problem, really look at it and say to yourself, "I'm better than this." things will fall in line. 

   I'd like to think that the progress I've made these last few weeks is because of me, but it's not. Not entirely anyway. I wrote the first few posts of this blog and all of a sudden I got texts, e-mail, and calls from tons of people saying, “What can I do to help?” I have to tell you reader friends, you're all fucking incredible. I love you and I thank you.

  If you're in the same boat I was in I hope you get out of it. Remember, you deserve to be happy. You deserve to enjoy every second of this life. If it feels like too much and you need some help, all you have to do is ask for it. 

Most of the shadows of this life are caused by standing in one's own sunshine. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

You yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe deserve your love & affection. ~Buddha

Enjoy Wednesday Everyone.

     

     

Still Here/Progress

   Friends, how are ya? I missed you guys. There hasn't been a post in two weeks. Please let me assure you that I haven't been hold up in my apartment, stoned, and surrounded by empty cartons of Ben & Jerry's. I've simply been working on other projects. Now, back to basics.

  I made a promise to anyone who reads this and I just want to assure you I'm keeping it. 

  I've continued using my 5k app and hitting the weights when I can. (I suffered a shoulder injury last week so the weights are on hold for a little.) The running is going well. So well in fact that I'm gonna sign up for a 5K with a friend of mine on my birthday this year. 

  I've been eating whatever I want, but just not as much of it. Definitely going for healthier choices and keeping my caloric intake below 2000 calories a day.

  I haven't forgotten my commitment to volunteering either. I'll be making time at a soup kitchen this week.

  The results so far...I dropped 20lbs since this began. It feels good, but there's a lot of work left to do. Miles to go before I sleep. 

  The second part of A Table Story will be up later on today. I hope you’ll check it out and take a look at the last post before you do if you haven't already. 

   Be good to yourselves and have a great Tuesday.

 

A Table Story - Part One: Customer Comments

 I’m an actor and a writer. I’m also a waiter. Over the last nine years or so of running down my dream from college to New York, the service industry has provided my living when my craft and my passion could not. I spend most of my days dreaming about a phone call. It's call from my manager. She tells me that my pilot sold or that I was offered this role or that role and that I should head into work and give them my two weeks notice, because I don't have to be a server anymore. Instead, just a writer and an actor.

The truth is that the service industry has been very good to me. It’s taught me life lessons that I’ll carry with me forever, as well as allowing me to form relationships with some truly incredible people. Industry people in general are hardworking, passionate, crazy, students of human nature. They’re chefs and servers and artists and poets. They’re in at 3pm done at 1am, drink-drink-drink, rinse wash repeat people. Good people. My people. The best part of the restaurant business for me has always been my co-workers. We’re in the foxhole together every day battling our enemies and trying back home again.

I began waiting tables while I was in college. I knew that it would be a while before I was able to make any real money as an actor and that I’d need something to get by on. I can’t sit in an office all day. Nothing against it, I’m just not that guy. So, since I love clichés, I thought I’d give serving a shot. I started at an Applebee’s in Bloomsburg, Pennsylvania. Nine years later, here I am working at one of the best restaurants in New York City. Although I hope and pray for my television career to take off soon, I'm am beyond grateful for the job that I currently have.

I can’t even begin count the number of times over the years that some idiot customer has made a comment to me regarding my weight. Every time it happens I’m amazed by it. Why do people think that it’s okay to make a comment like that to someone they don’t know? Most of them are all the same. They typically go something like this:

Me: Did you have any questions about the menu?

Customer: What do you recommend? You obviously like to eat.

When the fuck did that become okay? Why do people think it's just fine to say something like that? I never recommend something to a table based solely in a few physical details. It'd be like me saying, "Sir, you look like you could use another martini. It's obvious that your Upper East Side stretched/shiny face, cunt wife has been sucking the life out of you these last few years, the same way she's been sucking the fat out of her own ass." 

Okay, I mean, I get it. Actually, a very stupid woman put this into perspective for my about a year ago. This was the conversation:

Stupid Woman: You seem like you really love food.

Me: Who doesn't love food?

Stupid Woman: So are you a chef?

(I don't know what restaurants this bitch has been to in the past where a chef was cooking the food, as well as taking her order, and bringing her a diet coke.)

Me: Um, no. I'm a server.

Stupid Woman: So, you just like to eat. That's why you do this job?

She wasn't trying to be cruel. She was a moron, but not cruel. She taught me something actually. I guess I'm fairly professional at work. I know my shit. I want to give my customers a good experience. I'm in charge of their time and they can never get that back so I do my best to make that time count. I guess that most people assume the following; He's a good waiter. He must really love this business. He must really love food. I get that. That's why I never let a comment like that woman’s bother me too much. They don't know me. They don't know anything about my life or what I'm doing with it. I let that stuff roll off my back. Thankfully, I haven't gotten one of those in a while. 

Also, since we're talking about shit people say to servers I should point something out. Many of the people I work with, work in the service industry because the absolutely love it. They're passionate about food, wine, and hospitality the same way that I am about writing and acting. They're hard working, extremely intelligent individuals. So, don't assume that every server is only doing it while they're searching for their passion. Restaurants are their passion. Remember that the next time you're about to ask your waiter, "So, what do you really want to do?"

Okay, back to my own personal customer interactions. There was one comment a customer made to me a few months back that I'll never forget. It's the reason for this post. In some ways, it's the reason for this blog and all the changes I've been trying to make lately.

I spent this past winter working at a place on the Upper East Side owned by a friend of mine. An upscale Mediterranean spot called, Amali. Amali attracted a certain type of clientele; New Yorkers with Clout. Masters of the island universe known as Manhattan. Doctors, Lawyers, Bankers, Politicians, and famous folks, all regulars at Amali. 

This story is about one regular in particular. A gentleman named, Peter. Peter was in his sixties. He was big in stature, well over six feet, with a beard. He always wore a turtleneck under a blue blazer and walked with a cane. He looked as if he was a retired professor of sorts. He was crazy smart, extremely well spoken, well read, and well mannered. Most of the time he would come in for dinner with his wife and friends of theirs. 

Peter was also a wine geek. He always brought in two or three of his own bottles. We never charged him corkage and he always shared with the staff. The bottles he brought in were ridiculous on several levels. For example, one night he brought in a 1978 Sutter Home Zinfandel (Yup, I know.) that he asked us to open before moving on to the 1983 Margaux he’d also brought. The Sutter Home, ROCKING good believe it or not. 

Peter was in at least once a week during my last month at Amali. He was almost always the last table in the place, but he was also always very kind and insistent on sharing his awesome booze with us so we didn't mind. 

It was my last day at Amali, a Sunday. On Sundays we were generally pretty slow and I was usually the only server on the floor. This Sunday however, we were busy. The room was full with nearly every VIP I'd ever waited on while I was working there. Matt Lauer from the Today show was at his corner table. We had a senator from Arizona in for dinner with his family. Jerry Della Femina, an original Mad Man and the inspiration for Don Draper, was in with his wife and daughter. I could go on. There was just a tremendous amount of power in the dining room. It's like all these people who I'd gotten to know in my short time at that restaurant came in to say goodbye. They didn't. Most had no idea I was leaving. Still thought, it was kinda cool. All these movers and shakers...and Peter. 

Peter came by for an early supper with an old friend of his whose name I forget. He brought in two bottles, as usual, and while I was serving the first one I let him know that it was my last day. He asked me where I was headed and I told him. He told me he appreciated the great service over the last few weeks and I told him I appreciated all the free hooch. 

It was time for dessert. I was telling him and his friend about a rhubarb tart we were offering as a special. His friend asked me, "What's rhubarb?" I explained that rhubarb is a plant with a stalk similar to celery, only it's pink, and it has a kind sweet and sour flavor to it. He said, "Huh, never heard of it." I replied, "Well, I grew up with it. My grandmother always had in her garden. Rhubarb cake was a dessert staple in my house growing up." He nodded and said, "Alright, I'll try it." I looked over at Peter to take his dessert order and he was giving me a strange look. He then very suddenly grabbed me by the forearm and pulled me down so that I was kneeling next to the table, and we were on the same level. Then he spoke to me very quietly and in a serious tone. The following is what he said.

"I'm not telling you that you should lose weight because of how you look. It's not about that. I'm telling you that you should lose weight, because I don't want to see you suffer. I'm old, I know what it's like when you get on in years. Take a look around here. See all these people. You're as good and as smart as any man in this room, but you're paying for something that's not your fault. Someone has their foot on you. There's another person inside of you that I can see, and that person deserves to come out. Like I said, it's not about how you look. Do you understand?"

What do you say to that? I wasn't mad. I wasn't mad at all. I could tell that his words were heartfelt. I also knew that he was right. All I could bring myself to say was, "Alright. Thank you." He replied, "No, don't thank me. Either do it or don't do it. Do you understand?" I shook my head yes and stood up. Peter then proceeded to order an espresso as if the previous conversation never took place.

I walked away from the table in a mild state of shock. My bartender Marvin came up to me and said, "Hey, it's slowing down, man. You should get out of here." I heard him say the words, but I was kind of frozen, processing what was just said to me. Then he spoke up, "Mike, you okay?" I nodded yes. "Alright, then get out of here. I'll finish this up." 

I went down stairs and changed out of my uniform. When I came back up I said goodbye to my co-workers and started heading toward the front door. Peter was still at his table. He stopped me, shook my hand and smiled as he said, "Good luck at the new place. The wife and I will be down to visit sometime." 

I walked off the floor and out into the street. I was still in a fog thinking about what was just said to me. I came back to my apartment and sat by myself for a bit reflecting on the night. I thought carefully about Peter's words. They were so specific to my own life that I found them almost eerie.

I have more to say to you about them, what they meant to me, and what they could mean for anyone overdoing it on anything in their life. But, let's wait until the next post for that. I’m due for some time in the gym today. I plan on making that workout the only labor I do on this Labor Day weekend.

I hope everyone is having a great holiday.