Alec's Graduation Weekend

Friday was one of those great days in life that I know will stay with me forever.

The family gathered in Salt Lake City to celebrate Alec's graduation from the University of Utah. He studied physics and graduated summa cum laude which is latin for "with highest honors." During his 4 years he earned all "A's." Mind boggling. He starts medical school in August and his wife is expecting their first child in September. Busy and exciting times for them.








When Alec's name was announced at graduation, our group of 10 whooped, hollered and woo-hoo'd VERY loudly and Jake sprang from his seat and hollered, "That's my brother!" We even managed to drown out the applause for the Asian contingent which represented at least 50% of the Department of Science grads. I know this since the crew behind us were Chinese and admittedly told us that we had the loudest cheer. I wanted to start the wave but was pretty sure the science nerds wouldn't get it or better yet, couldn't coordinate it. One guy earned his Phd in something like Elliptical Partial Differential Equations. Jake and I turned our heads toward each other and rolled our eyes as if to say, "Puh-leeeeeeze just make sure satellite TV keeps working."



Afterward, while taking photo's, Alec gave me one of the greatest gifts (and compliments) I have ever received. He presented me with a red sash, identical to one he wore with his honors ropes and medals, and on it was a personal message. The gift of the sash is officially called "A Stole of Gratitude." It's given to the person who motivated and/or inspired them during their education process. The stole had a personal message that Alec had hand wrote that made the big fella weep like a baby.




That night we then dined at Cucina Tuscano.



This place is located on the west side of Salt Lake city in an old tire building - the Firestone logo is still painted on the structure and one can see that better than the Cucina Tuscano sign which is covered in ivy. From the outside you would never think of eating there....or if you did, you could have your tires rotated at the same time. Nope. I've dined around the globe in all sorts of cool restaurants; Paris, London, Honolulu, New York, San Francisco, Tijuana, Chicago, Lima, Fort Worth Stockyards (best BBQ of all time), N'Awlins, Barcelona...you name it.... and this little joint tucked away in a quiet little corner of the world was, hands down, the finest dining experience I ever had. The owner is about 70 and has Albert Einstein-like hair only combed a lot better and an excitable and cheerful demeanor. He dresses much better than the deceased physicist too. His natty wardrobe was the perfect mix to greet customers, sprint into the kitched to holler in Italian at the chefs, and roam his restaurant like a panther to ensure that the service staff were all on the ball. All along I was calling this cat Walter while telling him one of my Grandfathers hailed from Trieste in Northern Italy. This simple fact meant that from that minute forth, we were paisan's - which means "friend" in Italian. Walter also loves the ladies. He kisses all of them no matter what they look like. I also found out late in the game that his name is "Valter." So I was misprouncing his name all night but his English wasn't so hot either. When we left, we embraced. Paisan's forever. Call the movers Janae.....we're headed to SLC.







Saturday we trekked north to Ogden to watch high school tennis. The boys helped coach the Highland High tennis team this year and had all of their players competing for state seedings for the state tournament next week. The bottom line is that Highland High opened a HUGE can of whoop ass and beat the snot out of their opponents. Me? I like winners.




Their dominance was so great that I found myself sound asleep on the grass in one of the most beautiful locations I can ever recall - at the foot of Mount Ogden surrounded by green grass, a beautiful golf course and some well behaved dogs. The only other outdoor nap that could compare to this was at the foot of the Eiffel Tower in 2000. Out cold on my back and snoring like Fred Flintstone.

Returning to the hotel we watched in dismay yet another heartbreaking Jazz loss to the hated LA Lakers. The announcers can't contain their love for Kobe. Kobe, Kobe, Kobe.... Me? I like the Shaqobe era much better since Shaq's lovably, goofy personalaity made up for the Black Mamba's surliness and nasty temper. FYI, Kobe was named after a steak house in western Pennsylvania....it's true, look it up.



Sunday was a rare radio/TV double for me.

At the Grand America Sunday Brunch/feast I was interviewed by the local Fox network about Mother's Day whilst stuffing my face with jumbo shrimp cocktail, sage sausage, more bacon than I've ever downed in a single sitting (including Christmas morning) 2 creme brulees, and all sorts of other delicious and tasty morsels. As a precaution against my arteries clogging up and throwing wrench in the trip, I downed a handful of aspirin and 2 chloresterol pills - one before the meal and one after. So far, so good - no chest pains whatsoever.

The drive home.

I hate driving for more than 10 minutes so the six hour drive from SLC to LV was pure torture until Janae located the NFL sirius radio channel that I listened to for most of the drive. Since there was absolutely nothing to do for 6 hours but stare at the road, I called the radio to chat with Jack Arute and Josh Porter about, among other things, the NFL labor contracts; issues with PED's; and about having teams put on garage sales to get rid of their junk and raise money for local charities. I may need to guest host on West Coast Biased.

We stopped in Bunkerville to leave flowers on Janae's mothers grave. When I looked at the date of her death - which seemed like yesterday - I was amazed that it's been nearly a 1 1/2 years since her passing.



The last hour or so of the ride Janae played songs off her iphone and I had to guess the song and the group. My overall score was pathetic - probably around 30%. I knew most of the songs and could sing along, badly, but was clueless about the artist and song title. This confuses me greatly. I can remember all sorts of sports statistics yet am unable sing a single song from memory and get all the words right unless they were Christmas songs. I botch up every song. Even those from my favorite artists. Admittedly, it is the one thing I am bad at.



Of course it's quite possible that my brain is so packed with sports stats, and other useless trivia that there's no room for music. The aforementioned however make me a great trivial pursuit player. Trust me, you want me on your TP team.

We don't stop playing because we grow old; We grow old because we stop playing.

- George Bernard Shaw