Remembering Grandpa Julie

It's hard to believe, but today marks 11 years since my grandfather on my dad's side passed away.

I was a freshman in college, and I'll never forget the phone ringing early one morning. Half asleep in my bed on the eighth floor of Metcalf Hall, I answered the phone, and my mom told me the sad news, "I'm sorry, but Grandpa Julie passed away this morning."

I remember not knowing what to do. I didn't know how to react. Family members had passed before, but none who were particularly close to me. Not like a grandparent. He was the first.

I didn't cry, not for a few days. It wasn't real, though. I had no concept of what "a death in the family" was supposed to feel like. I'd never felt one before. I still had friends all around me. I was still on campus. Nothing really changed for me in the immediate present at the time.

My parents drove up from Charlotte and picked me up in Raleigh, and we hit the road to New Jersey. Strangely, I remember almost nothing about the drive to New Jersey and the immediate aftermath of arriving. I don't remember where we stayed. I don't remember seeing my grandmother for the first time after we arrived. It's all gone, until the morning of the funeral.

I remember the car ride to my grandparents' condo in Woodbridge. I immediately grew attached to the song "In My Life," by the Beatles. I listened to it exclusively on repeat the entire day, and for months afterward, I couldn't listen to it at all because it reminded me of that day.

My emotions finally caught up to me when we got to the funeral home. We hadn't seen him yet, but the act of arriving at that place triggered it. I was inconsolable the entire time we were there before the funeral actually started. Finally, to break the tension I undoubtedly had a hand in creating, either my father or one of my uncles came up to me, and, as only one of them could do, said, "Listen, I know you're upset, but it's not like you can hop in the coffin with him."

Lulz.

It was funny then, and it's funny now, so don't feel bad if you chuckled. I certainly did at the time. I was better after that.

Anyway, this post is not so much about that as about him.

He was super outgoing and super friendly. And he always seemed happy and content wherever he was.

The very last memory I have of him, he called me in my dorm room. I believe he was in the hospital at the time, but someone had just given him a Backstreet Boys CD. Like you do. I know when I think of a 77-year-old man, I think of the Backstreet Boys, too.

But he had never heard of them, so he called me to do some research on them.

"Hey Bri, I just got this CD. I don't know these people. What kind of music is it? Should I like this?"
"Haha. Yes, Grandpa, you should like this. It's fun, peppy music. It's like dance music. It's really fun, and you should listen to it."

So he did. How can you not love that? haha.

The other lasting memory I have is one of my family's favorite stories about him. My uncle used to live in Atlanta, and one year, my parents and grandparents went down there to visit him and his family. We all went to the Coca Cola museum one day. I've been there a few times, and it's a pretty cool trip.

Well, the thing with Grandpa Julie was you always had to keep an eye on him -- not because he couldn't handle himself and he needed to be taken care of, but because he had the tendency to just put his hands in his pockets and wander around, checking things out.

He was very laid back, and he liked to walk around and check out his surroundings. So we're at the Coke museum, and we're walking around. Sure enough, we lost sight of him.

We're asking each other who saw him last, where was he, what direction was he going. We weren't panicking or anything; we knew he'd turn up like he always did.

Finally, after a few minutes of our own wandering around in search of him, the doors to the theater where they show old Coke commercials and films opened. Out strolled Grandpa Julie with his hands in his pockets and a smile on his face.

"Grandpa, what happened?"
"Well, I was walking around, looking at everything, and I found this room with the screen. When I got to the other side to leave, the doors closed and the lights went down, so I just sat down for a few minutes."

Of course he did.

And I'll always remember how my grandparents had their own little game of Marco Polo in every store we ever visited. Because of my grandfather's penchant for wandering, they often got separated in stores. What happened next never failed to crack me up.

From one side of the store (or, in most cases, one aisle to the aisle next to it), you'd hear them shout to each other, exactly like a game of Marco Polo:

"Etta!"
"Julie!"
"Etta!"
"Julie!"

And hit repeat on that chorus until they found each other again. Hilarious.

So yeah. Sorry it got a little sad up at the top; it's just such a vivid memory for me, I felt compelled to write it down. It's still sad, of course, but after 11 years, it's much easier to remember and smile about the happy memories than that day.

And even 11 years later, I can still hear his one-beat laugh that broke the silence and traveled above the din of every room in which he found himself, either accidentally or on purpose. It seemed to come decibels louder than the rest of his laugh, "HEH!" And you know, I can't remember what his laugh sounded like, other than that. But I'll never forget that.

It's so funny -- the things that stick with you over the course of time.

Eleven years today. Incredible how fast time goes. Anyway, he was as much of a character as one person could possibly be. And it's truly hilarious to see my father picking up more and more of his mannerisms as he gets older. And it's truly terrifying when I catch myself picking up the very same mannerisms as I get older.

We're all destined to become our fathers, I suppose. But that's not always a bad thing.

We miss you, and we love you, Grandpa. Always!

-BG

North Carolina

Sorry for the missed post yesterday. I spent pretty much all day driving to Charlotte. And then since I'm driving to Raleigh tomorrow, I probably won't post tomorrow. So this will be all this week. But! I am hoping to acquire enough material this weekend for some really great stories next week. I'm also hoping I'll be able to share that material publicly. We'll see how that goes haha.

I think it'll be worth it.

Anyway. If you're reading this, you probably know I was born in New Jersey. Northeast New Jersey to be exact -- approximately 20 minutes from New York City.

My family lived in New Jersey until I was 11 years old. In 1993, my dad took a job in Charlotte, and we moved away. It was devastating at the time, but that's a story for another day.

I consider myself a northerner. I always have. If you listen to me speak, you'll undoubtedly hear twinges of a northern accent. It's inescapable. Two years ago, my brother and I were driving to New Jersey to visit some family. We stopped at a toll booth, and the toll operator said hello, and I responded, "hey how you doin?" I didn't think anything of it. I didn't say it in an unusual way -- it was just the way I say things.

When we pulled away, my brother looked at me and goes, "Jesus, what's up Vito? What the hell was that?"Apparently, it came out in a very thick northern accent. I didn't mean to! It's just the way I speak.

And, of course, most of my favorite sports teams are New York-area teams. New York is my favorite city in the country. Etc., etc.

The point is, I self-identify as a northerner. I always have, despite having lived in North Carolina for 15 of the past 18 years -- more than half my life and more than the time I spent living in New Jersey.

The past two years, however, I've lived in the DC area -- definitely NOT the south. And now that I'm away from North Carolina, I find myself missing it more and more the longer I'm gone.

I guess I shouldn't find that to be so strange. I did almost all of my actual "growing up" in North Carolina. I went to middle school, high school and college in North Carolina. I worked in North Carolina. Almost every significant life event of mine up until now happened in North Carolina.

It's tough to explain. After spending so much time in downtown DC over the past couple of years, it just feels dramatically different being in North Carolina. I'm certainly not going to make any claims about one being better than the other or anything like that. That's ridiculous and pointless.

But I know I feel good when I'm in North Carolina. It feels like home to me. The air feels and smells different -- especially in the fall. The pace is certainly more in tune with my easy-going, laid-back nature (although I do really enjoy the faster-paced DC lifestyle). Also, they have sweet tea here. Everywhere.

I'll always think of myself as a northern guy transplanted to the south. But being away for the past couple of years feels like it has drawn me closer, and I miss it. Don't get me wrong: I love living where I live, and I don't intend to move away. Despite my intensely laid-back and relaxed nature, I feel like a city guy. So DC is extremely appealing to me.

But you know. North Carolina has its advantages, too. Especially this time of year. The humidity is fading, the air will be turning crisp and the leaves will start to turn soon. Fall in North Carolina is some kind of special experience. And the football. I have no problem admitting this: there is nothing like experiencing college football in the south. It's just different here. Definitely better, and that's factually correct.

So yeah. I'm pretty excited to be spending the next several days back home in North Carolina. I'm super pumped about spending time with friends I haven't seen in way too long. It just feels good here, man. I like it.

Brief Weight-Loss Update

I weighed in at 185 today before running, which is a loss of 42 pounds. I'm only 5 pounds away from my original goal weight. Incredible. I can't believe how far I've come. I can't believe how good I feel. I'm not going to say I look good, but I will say plenty of others say it for me and to me, and goddamn THAT feels good.

I can't imagine I'll stop at 180 when I get there. I haven't checked since last week, but my body fat percentage was still hovering around 22 percent -- down from more than 30 percent back in April. But I'm not satisfied with 22 percent. I want to get to 17 percent, ideally, but definitely less than 20 percent. Keep on truckin', my friends. No choice.

I ran another four miles today, and it was my best four-mile time ever. I did it in 36:38 this morning -- just more than a 9-minute mile pace. I don't have a stopwatch or anything, so to keep track of my pace, I have a playlist of running songs. I note the time of the song that's playing when I reach each mile marker, and then I figure it out when I get home based on how much time elapsed on the playlist.

So today, it went like this:

Mile 1: 8:31
Mile 2: 8:51
Mile 3: 10:46
Mile 4: 8:30

Mile 3's time is dramatically higher because I walked for around two minutes when I reached the two-mile turnaround point. The last quarter-mile or so of mile 2 was straight uphill, so when I got to the two-mile point, I gave myself a breather. After walking briefly, I picked it up again and ran the entire way home.

Some perspective: last year at this time, I needed more than 32 minutes to finish 3.1 miles. This year, I finished four miles in just more than 36 and a half minutes.

It's been a good day. Love seeing progress on the scale, in how my clothes fit, in the mirror, in my fitness level and running ability. I just can't imagine feeling better physically than I do right now. But I know I will as I keep this up.

And then combine that with going out with some of my oldest friends tonight -- some of whom have known me since I was 11 or 12 years old. And then this weekend of debauchery in Raleigh? Oh my god. You know what's coming now.

Man, let's GO.

-BG

Life Update!

So!

In my last post about the blog birthday, I jokingly said part of the festivities would be a three-week silence. Well, here we are on April 27 with no posts since then. Excellent prognostication on my part. But I DO have good reasons for it.

1. Easter weekend in NJ: Stacy, Matt, Rachel and I drove up for the weekend, and the family proved themselves to be every bit the asylum escapees they are (in a good way, of course!). It really was a fun time though. It's always good to see everyone since we don't get up that way all that often.

Everyone loved Rachel, of course (as I knew they would), and I don't think anyone really embarrassed themselves, which is really a bonus. We ate at White Castle (bad for the heart, good for the soul) and a diner for breakfast before we left.

2. CHICAGO! The next weekend, Rachel and I flew to Chicago for a nice extended weekend. It's her favorite city ever, and I'd never been. Combine that with her sister living there and Tanner living there for another couple of months at least and why not?

I have to say I was very impressed. I mean, of course I was -- it's Chicago. It's not like I thought I wasn't going to like it. Very cool city though. We stayed at this pretty nice hotel in Lincoln Park, right across the street from the botanical gardens and reasonably close to Lake Michigan.

And, yes, it was windy in Chicago; however, as I learned during my audio tour on the 95th-floor observatory of the John Hancock building, there are 37 cities in the U.S. that are technically windier than Chicago. Also, Chicago is not named The Windy City because of windy weather, but rather windbag politicians trying to get the World's Fair in the late 19th century. Now you know, and knowing is half the battle.


I will have pictures from Chicago, and I will upload them to Facebook next week. The delay is due to:

3. I moved to a new apartment! Yes, it's true. I now have a one-bedroom apartment in Gaithersburg, Md., just outside of DC, in a great little neighborhood called the Kentlands. I'm within walking distance to a TON of little local shops and stores, plus the usual Giant, Whole Foods, Petsmart, Michael's, K-Mart, Chipotle, Five Guys, Panera, etc. Walking distance!
I moved to the suburbs, and I still hardly have to drive anywhere! There's a bus stop maybe 50 yards from my building that'll take me to a Metro station to come downtown for work, too.

So! You may be asking yourself why I moved to the suburbs when I loved living in the city so much. Good question.

Two main reasons above all else -- affordability and large dog approval. Consider the following: for approximately $1,400/month, I could get a 400 sq. ft. studio apartment downtown or a 950 sq. ft. two-bedroom apartment outside the District. Sooo yeah. There's that. Also, not too many apartment buildings downtown were cool with dogs who weighed more than 30 pounds. Allie weighs around 60-65. I can pass her off for 50-55 when need be because she's so lean. But no one will believe a black lab/border collie mix is 30 pounds.

And that's that. I was able to get a really nice and spacious 650 sq. ft. one-bedroom apartment for FAR less than a DC apartment would have been.

Now, why Gaithersburg? I now live 2.5 miles (a five-minute drive) from Rachel's house. No more 45-min drives through the northern DC ghetto! Right up the street! Fooooooor the win.

Barring unforeseen extraordinary circumstances, I will not be moving again until I buy a house or townhouse or condo or something. This marked my third residence-to-residence move in a less than a year and a half. I'm done. I will live here for at least two years, too.

And next time I move, you're damn right I'm hiring movers. I recently bought a bed, a couch, two end tables, two night stands and a new dresser. Everything but the couch (which will hopefully be delivered this weekend) is in the apartment. Combine that with my 55" HDTV and my kick-ass entertainment center, and what you get is too much damn work for me to move myself again.

Matt, Rachel and Rachel's dad helped me out this time, and my God I don't know what I would have done with them. A infinite number of thank yous to them.

BUT! The good news is I get to have Allie back now! I really cannot thank my parents enough for looking after her since November. I was in a tough spot, and, as usual, they really bailed me out. I haven't seen her since Christmas though, and I really miss having that crazy dog around. LOOK AT THIS FACE!!!


Oh Allie. End of May! Rachel and I will be going to Charlotte for Jay and Emily's wedding, and I'm picking her up then!

4. Weezer concert! Yes, I know. This item would be much more exciting if it were 1996, but c'est la vie. Rachel, Matt and I are going to see Weezer Friday night! If it were 1996, they'd pretty much play the Blue album and Pinkerton (two essentially perfect rock albums) back-to-back. That would be SO. GOOD. But, alas, they have quite a few mediocre-at-best albums to choose from now (Make Believe, the Red album, Raditude).

Don't get me wrong, there are some catchy songs off those albums (Pork and Beans, Greatest Man that Ever Lived, etc.), but they're a FAR cry from Across the Sea, Say it Ain't So, El Scorcho and Buddy Holly.

Oh well. I'm still looking forward to it. As I've mentioned here before, previous success will always guarantee I'll check out new Weezer releases even though I inevitably come away disappointed. Still, hopefully they'll play mostly their old, awesome stuff.

Success! I've written a novel and updated my blog!

To come:

Pictures of the Nats game I went to with Matt
Pictures from the trip to Chicago with Rachel
Pictures of my new apartment
Etc.

Life is good.
-B