I have been selfish: I like the cooling effect on my skin of their colder weather. I don't mind the huffing and puffing if I can earn some visible and actual altitude. I enjoy steep fast descents at the end of my journeys. Sometimes they shine with a lustrous sheen when they are covered in granite or lava. They can also be multicolored and unstable when they are made of sandstone. In the tropics, they are massive and oftentimes you discover a rich mineral red under all that vast vegetable greenery. Most of all, I like them when they are jagged and covered with snow. I do love my mountains!

It happened at the base of Headwall at Squaw Valley, one on my favorite California ski resorts. I had already cleared what is considered to be the most difficult part of the run and was cruising from a set of moguls to another one over un-groomed terrain. Apparently I was going too fast and landed improperly on a mogul. I was skiing by myself but I was on my annual All Boys Trip (ABT). Most of the guys on the ABT went to UC Irvine and all we seem to have in common is that we were part of a Team, Association or Club as in rowing, sailing, surfing and of course skiing. I was found by one of my friends. I knew I was in trouble when I couldn't move my legs. My friend knew I wasn't playing one of my usual practical jokes when I asked him to remove the snow from my mouth so I could breathe more easily. I later learned that my ABT friends rallied for me while I was in the Intensive Care Unit; Somehow that makes me extremely happy.

I was rescued off the mountain by the great guys and gals of the Squaw Valley Ski Patrol. According to them, I was the worst accident of that year. My wife and I had to fill innumerable insurance forms and had to call them to get some needed paperwork. I was glad to discover that one of the injured guys still works for this outfit handling insurance paperwork. I was airlifted by helicopter from the mountain and ended up in Reno’s Renown Hospital. I had burst my C5 cervical vertebrae. C3, C4 and C5 had to be fused together in order for me to survive my injury. Five days later, as a result of this surgery, I suffered a cerebellum clot which naturally caused a stroke. That cerebellum clot made my brain too inflamed and it was too close to my stem cell. I had to have another surgery to remove all the necrotic tissue. A couple of tubes were implanted on top of my head to relieve most of the pressure. To this day, I am convinced that most of my physical problems have to do with the stroke and not the original accident as I was fooling around with my ABT friends after the skiing misfortune. After recuperating from my stroke for almost a month, Renown couldn't do anything else for me. My wonderful wife chose to transfer me to Colorado's Craig Hospital where I spent almost four months recuperating from my injuries. I became what is known as an incomplete paraplegic. Prior to this ski accident, I have never been to a hospital, not even for stitches. I had a bad childhood bout with asthma but that improved with lots of strange tropical home remedies and disappeared with relentless adolescent aerobic sports.

I do remember the original ski accident and the initial days at Renown but I have to admit that I don't remember my days after the stroke and the early days at Craig. Everyone tells me that's for the best! Family and friends came to visit me during this time. Unfortunately, I do not remember any of this. I knew I had suffered a serious accident when I learned that my mother and sister had visited me in the US. I do remember my aunt and cousin visiting me later while I was in recuperating in Colorado, where three angelical women took care of me at Craig: My speech therapist who gave me the ability to eat and talk again; My physical therapist who showed me how difficult it would be to gain some strength again; And my occupational therapist (OT) who showed my wife and I how to make everyday life a little easier. My OT also knew what was to come: The only place where I still have pain is in my hands and wrists. I have worn all kind of splints on my elbows and forearms but the Dynasplint seem to work the best. Fortunately, I don't have to do serial casting anymore.

Why did this happen to me? If you are a good Christian you have to believe that “God won't give you more than you can handle” If you are into Eastern religions you understand the concepts of reincarnation and karma —Who knows what bad deeds I did in past lives or this one. I just don't remember— I do tend to think like my mother, it is all a matter of statistics; If you ski and you ski fast you are going to get hurt about 16% of the time. I happened to fall in that percentage on that particular date. That date was Friday the 13th, March 2009. I am not a superstitious person and I like to think that I learn from all my experiences. For example, I have learned that there's a maximum of three Friday the 13th’s in one particular year. 2009 happened to be one of those. Most buildings in the US don't have a 13th floor because of that superstition. There is even a name for this phobia which is friggatriskaidekaphobia.

On Memorial weekend, just two months away from my accident, I was supposed to take my son backcountry skiing to Shasta Mountain in northern California. Like most kids, my son learned how to ski early and then moved on to snowboarding. He decided to get good at skiing so that he could go into the backcountry with me. We had taken avalanche courses together and I had even chosen backcountry gear. We had gone on a few snow backcountry outings but not overnight yet. I had decided to get a guide, not only to be sure to make it to the top but also to aid in case of any emergencies. Shasta has the longest run in the lower 48 States, in the spring when corn snow is available. I wasn’t looking for the warmer temperatures of spring but wanted to ski this beautiful corn snow having tried some dirty patches in the Mammoth Lakes area.

I don't know if I'll ever make it to Shasta Mountain for spring skiing but I miss not being more available to my daughter and not teaching her a couple of adult skills. She never learned how to drive stick shift and off-road like my son learned from me. I have given her what seems to be an egotistical project that may take her ten years to complete: To drive at least a couple of days of the Baja 1000 course. Whether we drive on a sponsored truck or a dune buggy, slapped from an old Mexican VW that I should be able to afford, it's entirely up to her.

Most of the time I feel like a cross between a baby and a circus performer. But once in a while I feel like I am accepting an Oscar or I am a talking head on CNN; Except there will not be any unexpected  music or an annoying clock buzzard if I run out of time. As a matter-of-fact, one of the tags for this post is ramble, which means I can jump from theme to theme and take all the necessary time and space in apparent disorganization; I will thank my wife of almost 30 years because without her love and attention I would not be alive. We have known each other for more than those 30 years and our marriage and love for each other is one constant that I hope never changes in my life. This woman is the Yin to my Yang.

Some great friends threw me a fundraiser. Others decided to cook for me and my family. Still others created an e-group to keep their thoughts and prayers coming my way. Many came to visit me at Reno, Denver or my home in Southern California. As previously described, I may have forgotten some of these visits but I have an impatient lifetime to repay all of this kindness (Repay: What a wonderful English word, sometimes it doesn't involve money).

My boss, who I also consider a friend, has been greatly instrumental in my recuperation. Not only did he visit me in Reno, he has also made sure that I keep current with all the technologies used by our company. Physical recuperation from my injuries is a great challenge but improving mental agility is just as difficult. It goes back to one of our initial meetings when we founded the company. I wanted licensing fees for software I had written and he just didn't have the money. We reached an impasse after an hour of negotiations, the dealmaker (who also turned into a great friend) walked out of the room to take a personal call. When the flabbergasted dealmaker returned, my boss and I had an agreement in place; I had explained to him how Hernán Cortés set about to conquer one of the greatest civilizations of the Americas: the Aztecs. Cortés ordered for his ships to be burned. Him, his sailors and soldiers would perish in their enterprise or be successful in their conquest; There was no going back to Spain! I hope my boss takes me on his next expedition; I know he’ll understand if I really need to go back to Spain.

I am currently going to Project Walk twice a week for a couple of hours each visit for some rigorous exercises with young, enthusiastic, knowledgeable therapists. We address one of my principal goals which is to walk again. I also go to a hand therapist and although he got rid of excruciating pain in my forearms, I still have to deal with my hands and wrists and the progress is slower. I love to get into the ocean and have done so thanks to Wheels2Water and LiifeRollsOn. I have started going again for aquatics therapy, once a week and getting in the pool is one of my favorite activities. I recently started some hippotherapy and that, of course, always puts a smile on my face. What is great about hippotherapy is that not about strength; it's all about balance. Supposedly, a horse and a human gait are very similar although we clearly do not run as fast.

I see a physiatrist (watch the spelling) every four to six months. She is a woman doctor and very knowledgeable with my type of injury. She recommends new therapies for me to try and approves my current and future goals. She is always a joy to visit. I also see an excellent urologist with the same frequency. She also happens to be a woman doctor and specializes in my type of injury. I have suffered several urinary tract infections (UTIs) including two that landed me in the hospital again for several days. I have become very hygienic and deadly afraid of UTIs. As part of their drug protocol, Craig Hospital prescribed an antidepressant. Most people suffer from a depressive episode as a result of my type of injury. That has not happened to me yet. Nevertheless, I must acknowledge that I am totally obsessed with time. I am not talking about just keeping appointments and meeting deadlines. I am talking about the natural progression of time. Time may be a man-made artifact but I believe it is real. I guess it is all relative.

There is a group of people, nurses and caregivers, that make everyday life possible and easier for the rest of us. Most of the time they are used to dealing with an aging population and maybe someone not as demanding. One always thinks that most of them need training to be able to adjust to one’s requirements but it is usually the other way around. They may have their own dreams and aspirations and sometimes they do not involve caregiving. What is certain is that these human beings are full of compassion.

I have to admit that I did not see everyone that I have ever known and passed away, waiting for me with a big smile by some pearly gates; My whole life did not flash by me in seconds during my accident; A bright light did not guide me; A booming voice did not tell me to go back and complete my work; 80,000 servants and 72 virgins did not anticipate my arrival; I did not perceive blissful nothingness. But when it counted, I was painfully aware that family, friends and total strangers cared for my well being and that makes all the difference in this world.

The other tag that I am applying to this post is SCI. I wished it stood for the Science Channel; it stands for Spinal Cord Injury.

Labels: ramble, SCI

Here it is February and I am writing about New Year's Resolutions. I must not be taking this blogging too seriously. Actually, that is one my New Year's Resolutions: Blogging is for fun! For when the muse strikes me and I feel like writing; For posting whatever I want, whenever I want. I don't have to keep my blog "fresh!" Or Trackback every other post on VentureBeat. I don't have to monetize my blog or focus it to a targeted audience! And I certainly don't have to move my blogs to Wordpress or host my blogs on a dynamic IP over my home DSL connection on a C#, ASP.NET & XML backend Open Source project just to show I am techie! I will blog whenever I want, whatever I want. And I'll play with the blogger JavaScript and update to the new templates and tag on all my previous posts only when and if I feel like it. The only commitment I will make is that I will write more technical articles on my other blog and that I will be be just as unfocused and erratic about that blog as I am with this one. I will not just rehash the latest iPhone news. I will not review Windows Vista. And I will not pontificate about the best and latest Linux distro. This is supposed to be for fun! I have an interesting and challenging job! I have a loving family and happy friends to spend time with! I also want to spend time volunteering for groups like the San Gorgonio Search & Rescue Team. I have skis, a mountain bike and a spear-gun in the garage! I have a life! I'm fortunate!

Something is missing though, I need a clear, concise New Year's Resolution for 2007. One that I can achieve with some effort and that will be a visible mark of self-improvement. Something that will show me I can discipline myself and give me a self-deceiving, superiority complex over my fellow human beings when I accomplish it!

It turns out that this New Year's Resolution is going to be easy. I actually already accomplished it over the Holidays. Here we are in February and I'm going strong. The inspiration for my New Year's Resolution came to me last year when I read one of the best rants I have read in a while. The Shaving Cream Racket was a revealing and revolutionary article that exposed the fallacy of that supposedly special shave I could only accomplish with my Edge Shave Gel Sensitive Skin With Aloe. This article also gave me irrefutable proof that I had been not only a wimp but a also dupe ever since I proudly shaved that first peach fuzz off my adolescent face. For years, all I really needed for a perfectly good shave has been simple soap.

Starting on this New Year's Resolution did take some effort; You see I am one of those guys who hates running out of stuff; Buy two of each staple or sundry item and when one runs out, you have plenty of time to replace it. You will never run out of important things at an inconvenient time, like the one announced by the sound of a sputtering can of shaving cream. So I had a couple of cans of the stuff to run through. I had the opportunity to implement my New Year's Resolution when I traveled abroad for the Holidays and I did not want to worry about all the new TSA regulations about liquids and toilet items. I also liked the idea of not having to pack one of those monstrous cans of shaving cream that never seem to fit anywhere and always seem to vomit its content over the hair and tooth brushes. It was also great timing because I was on the last can of my shaving cream stash. From Christmas Day on, I have used nothing more than soap to shave my face: Cheap, plain soap from a modest hostel in Barcelona; Fancy, luxurious soap from an elegant four-star Spanish hotel in Santander; And a sublime organic lavender soap that my wife hid into my travel bag as a Christmas stocking stuffer.

My face seems tougher. I don't cut myself anymore which happened regularly when I used shaving cream. I love the freedom of knowing that all I need to shave is a simple, disposable double-blade razor and a bar of soap. (Does anyone really need three, four or five blades in a razor?) I am certain that I will never buy another can of shaving cream for myself. It is only the beginning of February and I have already accomplished my New Year's Resolution. With that out of the way, I been thinking about how to improve it and about getting one of those fancy horsehair shaving brushes. Except that I have learned that a good shaving brush is not really made our of horsehair but out of badger hair. And they are very expensive! This New Year's Resolution keeps getting better and better!

Labels: ramble

Last January, on a cold and somber Sunday afternoon, on my way out of the Ashes and Snow exhibition, I walked by the Santa Monica Pier and into a field of white crosses There was little left to the imagination but the Arlington West Memorial stirred my heart. The white crosses were for all the fallen military men and women, most of them very young, that the war in Iraq has claimed. I now vividly remember that Sunday afternoon because I recently read that a similar memorial in Santa Barbara was being discontinued; There are too many crosses and it is difficult to properly maintain the Memorial.

Obviously, current political events have brought the war in Iraq into sharp focus but it all pales in comparison to the reality portrayed by all those white crosses. I consider myself non-partisan and as such give little attention to the all the political reasons for the war in Iraq and all the political fallout that has resulted and will continue to result from it. However, all those white crosses require reflection. I do not want to be part of a cynical nation that believes in sinister reasons for the war in Iraq. I rather believe that our President and his administration were misguided. I rather believe that our President's intentions were good: To combat global terrorism far away from our shores and to establish a beacon for democracy that would spread throughout the Middle East. Otherwise, how can one properly acknowledge all those white crosses sown into the sands of Santa Monica? All those dreams never to be reaped from the sands of Iraq?

Of course, I also believe that "... the road to hell is paved with good intentions!"

Labels: ramble

Labels: ramble, soccer

Con gran interés leo que el pueblo colombiano de Aracataca ha decidido cambiar su nombre por el de Macondo. Lo más divertido del caso es que la refundación del pueblo no se debe tanto para honrar a su más ilustre hijo, sino por simple razones de lucro turístico. Aracataca es el pueblo natal de Gabriel García Márquez y Macondo es, por supuesto, el nombre del pueblo ficticio donde se desarrolla su obra monumental, Cien Años de Soledad.

Mientras leo el artículo y como mi cotidiano sándwich durante un ordinario día de trabajo, el sonoro vocablo me transporta a gratos recuerdos cuando era un joven liceísta que alegremente consolidaba su afición por la literatura latinoamericana. Desde niño me gustaron los libros y claramente me acuerdo pidiéndole permiso a mis padres para leer un grueso y apolillado tratado acerca de Rusia que languidecía en un viejo armario; Apenas cursaba el cuarto grado y a mitad del año escolar ya había devorado los textos de Geografía e Historia y requería de nuevo material absorbente. Afortunadamente, mi voraz apetito textual fue apaciguado cuando nos mudamos a Caracas y descubrí que por unos pocos bolívares podía comprar semanalmente, un tomo de una colección de grandes obras de literatura de edición popular. Cada martes visitaba a la librería para asaltar el ejemplar de la semana. Los de color verde siempre me interesaban ya que  eran tratados de ciencias como El Origen de la Especies. Los de color azul eran más difíciles de gustar pues eran guiones de teatro o libros de poesías como El Cantar de Mió Cid. Pero mi gran placer eran los más comunes que eran anaranjados, el color de las grandes obras de literatura donde predominaban las joyas de la literatura clásica española coronada con el Don Quijote de la Mancha. Aun hoy en día, conozco poco de los grandes de la literatura inglesa por el simple hecho de que cuando leo por placer casi siempre leo algo en español, preferiblemente de un autor latinoamericano.

Sin duda, mi predilección por la literatura latinoamericana fue moldeada aquel tercer año del Ciclo Básico Común en el Liceo Lino de Clemente. Todo cambio aquel día en que fortuitamente nuestra profesora de castellano escogió a Cien Años de Soledad para nuestro análisis de literatura. Aparentaba ser una tarea fácil al leer el divertido texto pero hasta la misma profesora parecía confusa; El libro de Gabriel García Márquez no se ajustaba al esquema requerido para completar el reporte: ¿Cual de los Buendía era el personaje principal? ¿Como describir el leitmotiv del libro? ¿Como catalogar el lenguaje de Gabriel García Márquez cuando “Realismo Mágico” seria una denominación inventada años después?

Y mientras me iniciaba en mi romance con la literatura latinoamericana, a las puertas de mi Liceo, jóvenes impacientes trocaban piedras por bombas lacrimógenas con la Policía Metropolitana de Caracas en divertidos disturbios estudiantiles. Que fascinante ser llamado “neófito” por un policía no mucho mayor que uno pero revestido de una indumentaria que lo uniformaba como un ser de otro planeta. Que irreal cuando un amigo advertía del inminente peligro cuando la policía era reemplazada por la Guardia Nacional lo cual anunciaba que las cosas iban en serio y era hora de irse a casa.  Que embriagante el ponerse de pie en medio de una clase y  seguir el llamado de un instigador que llamaba al “¡Paro! ¡Paro! ¡Paro!” y salir a la calle con una confusa concepción de supuestas injusticias pero una clara oportunidad de sumarse al “bochinche.” Y que extravagante regresar a una supuesta normalidad y completar la tarea de leer Cien Años de Soledad.

¡Macondo nunca podrá ser un lugar porque cuando uno es latinoamericano, Macondo se ha vivido!

Labels: book, español, ramble

Are you still on track with your New Year's resolutions? Not to worry, just like the inspirational year-end articles that got you into you current mess, there is also help to keep you motivated and hopefully salvage some of those well-intentioned resolutions.

Like everyone else, I made a couple of resolutions that I intend to keep. They are not directly related to family, friends, work or finances. I am blessed to have relative normalcy in those areas and just a little tweaking should do. My resolutions have to do with getting back in shape. I'm not talking about building bigger biceps or getting washboard abs. I'm talking about being able to run a 10k or swim a mile whenever I want to. I have been in that kind of shape not too long ago and I find that it gives me the confidence to confront any challenges in any area of my personal life. This year I want to complete an X-Terra off-road triathlon. I did one several years ago and I have fond memories of what was then, a quaint little race in Big Bear. I want to do an X-Terra because I hate gyms and the only way I get in shape is by doing outdoor activities like trail running or mountain biking. Having a race to show up to, with the intention of successfully completing it, has always been a great motivator for me. The other resolution also involves sports. I have been planning it for the last seventeen years: Completing the Newport to Balboa Pier-to-Pier Ocean Swim with my son and having him beat me. All he has to do is to show up and get in the ocean. The rest is inevitable!

While reading all about motivation, resolutions, financial tune-ups and all the assorted year-end crap, I came across a truly creative approach to make one reflect about the coming year. It is The Edge Annual Question which for 2006 is simply genius: What is Your Dangerous Idea? Pretend you are a Copernicus, a Galileo or a Darwin and think of an idea "...that is dangerous not because it is assumed to be false but because it might be true..."  A panel of experts, people smarter than you and me, tackle their dangerous ideas and "...stray...into the land of morality, religion and philosophy..."

My dangerous ideas are that of a simpleton: I'm glad that most of my synapses fire properly; And that my skeletal-muscular system responds instinctively to commands from my brain. I'm glad that the atoms that form my being are arranged in their current configuration and not in that of an asteroid or an anemone. More than anything, I am glad that the Godhead has endowed me with a glimmer of consciousness so that I can faintly perceive It, even if all my thoughts and ideas are the byproducts of the cauldron of biochemicals bubbling inside my head.

Do you have a dangerous idea? I think it is worth a thousand resolutions!

Labels: ramble

I hope you received our Christmas Cards. All I had to do with the process was to order the stamps on-line: Fast, easy, cheap and fun! I wanted to go the minimalist way and suggested to Sally to just send some basic, white cards. The uniqueness of our Christmas Cards would have been in just the stamps if you happened to notice them. But she could not resist and took some pictures of the kids and made them into our Christmas Cards. I guess everyone likes receiving Christmas Cards with pictures of kids. I know I do!

I am not sure everyone enjoys getting the ubiquitous Christmas Letters.  I started thinking about it because I listened to one of our local radio shock-jocks rant about the subject on my way to work. He thinks that Christmas Letters and the people that write them are “evil.” That may be a little too strong but he was certainly very funny describing why he loathed the Christmas Letters. Obviously, the content of a Christmas Letter has to do a lot with the writer who always seems to be the lady of the household. I think it has become one of those “must-do” things that women take upon themselves so that they can add a little more “seasonal stress” to the Holidays. The way I see it, someone took the time to write a letter and send it to me, even if it is mass produced. It has my name on the envelope so I am going to read it. I always end up enjoying the Christmas Letters even though I already know most of their contents. I like to stay “plugged-in” to family and friends.

I started wondering how I would go about writing a Christmas Letter. It would be a tough job to give a summary of the year not just for me but for Sally, Xavier and Sasha, all in one page. Things would be more difficult because I would feel compelled to write about “…the good, the bad and the ugly...“  How do the pros do it? Here is a good resource!   The Steps are easy, the Tips are good but the Warnings are golden: “…Steer clear of writing from the point of view of your pets…It's annoying and overdone...”

Cacique and Freebie (Our cockatiels):

• Saturday 01/01/05: Xavier forgot to take our cage out to the patio again. Not to worry, the nice lady or the brute will do it later.
• Sunday 01/02/05: Xavier forgot to do the weekly cage clean-up again. He went Surfing and forgot all about us! The nice lady will have remind him several times but nothing will happen until the brute gets involved.
• Monday 01/03/05: Are you laying an egg this week or is it my turn?
• Tuesday 01/04/05:  Xavier forgot to take our cage out to the patio again. Not to worry, the nice lady or the brute will do it later.
• Wednesday 01/05/05: Xavier forgot to take our cage out to the patio again. Not to worry, the nice lady or the brute will do it later.
• Thursday 01/06/05: Xavier forgot to take our cage out to the patio again. Not to worry, the nice lady or the brute will do it later.
• Friday 01/07/05: Xavier forgot to take our cage out to the patio again. Not to worry, the nice lady or the brute will do it later.
• …Idem for the next 51 weeks...

Rusty (Our dog):

• Saturday 01/01/05: Sasha forgot to take me out for a walk again. Not to worry, the nice lady always takes me out in the afternoon.
• Sunday 01/02/05: Sasha forgot to take me out for a walk again. She smells different. She’s been walking other dogs for free at the Rescue Center. Not to worry, the nice lady always takes me out in the afternoon.
• Monday 01/03/05: Oh no! The brute is on a fitness kick and is going to take me running with him. He runs slowly but he goes way too long. When I want to go fast he cannot keep up. I need to hide!
• Tuesday 01/04/05: I wonder which cushions are the softest in the house.
• Wednesday 01/05/05: Sasha forgot to take me out for a walk again. Not to worry, the nice lady always takes me out in the afternoon.
• Thursday 01/06/05: Sasha forgot to take me out for a walk again. Not to worry, the nice lady always takes me out in the afternoon.
Friday 01/07/05: Sasha forgot to take me out for a walk again. Not to worry, the nice lady always takes me out in the afternoon.
• …Idem for the next 51 weeks...

Labels: ramble

I ain't no Madonna but that's how it feels! I've had this blogging "item" in my @action list for the last 6 months. If you are going to work with computers you better keep up with what the kids are doing! Might get some ideas for that stale "WebApp" you implemented last year! I smell a forty-something-closer-to-fifty birthday coming! What pushed me over the edge? I can post pictures directly from Picassa and have them always available? Screw Yahoo Photos! We'll see how this really all works together. One thing is for sure, I have crossed the line from friendly e-mail spammer to blogger! I wonder if my homies can handle it? Oh yeah! Gotta check how this blogger thing started ...three slackers got together and... ...and then they got bought out by google... Yeah! Missed another whole damn computer revolution! Again!

Labels: ramble

Very Proud Valarino Pop? That's more like it!

Most of you may not know I am nuts about my kids. I could go on forever about the things that I admire about my children. (When I am in a good mood I quickly dismiss their faults!) I could tell you all about my Amazon 12-year old daughter who is now as tall as her mother or I could tell you all about my tough little 16-year old son. Let me tell you about the tough little guy:

It just so happens that Xavier has become a lifeguard. I'm not talking about a Junior Lifeguard or a Pool Lifeguard. I'm talking about a bona fide Southern California Beach Lifeguard who will be working in some of the most popular Southland beaches this summer. What makes it really amazing is that he was ranked first in his Cadet class of 26 whittled down from some 60 try-outs who got cut-out on the physical competitions or simply quit the rigorous 5 week program. The Cadets got ranked based on points for physical competitions, attendance and knowledge of life-saving techniques. Cadets get job offers for the summer and preferential schedules based on their ranking. Xavier will have his pick of the schedule which is a good thing since he will be also attending his High School Water-Polo Team Summer Camp which will take a good part of his summer mornings.

I was lucky enough to watch the final physical competition last Saturday which involved a run-swim-stairclimb-swim, repeat-three-times circuit that I know I cannot complete. He was easy to pick because he was the smallest of the Cadets and he was in the front of the pack. He came in fourth on that competition. He really nailed the competition during the final life-saving test which consisted of an unknown, simulated, high-stress scenario on the beach involving a "victim" with a nasty bloody gash, that he had to provide first aid to, while an over-excited "relative" tried to distract him. Meanwhile, behind him, another "victim" was drowning; He kept his cool and performed like a pro, nailing all the procedures and radio code calls. He was one of the few Cadets that kept alert, responded properly to the priorities and rescued the drowning "victim."

Speaking of pro's, some of his fellow Cadets are professional surfers looking for a regular job like this poser* who Xavier bested in all competitions. Most of the Cadets are High School kids including two of his best friends he has known since elementary school. We call them The Three Musketeers. This summer they will be working the beach together as lifeguards! How cool is that?

I was really lucky last year when I challenged Xavier to the Newport Pier-to-Pier 2-mile ocean swim, knowing that it was probably the last time I could get out of the water in front of him. We trained together during the spring and he was easily making 50 yards on me for every 1000 we completed. I was lucky because the water was unusually chilly the day of the event and he was recovering from a cold so he did not complete it, giving me the first and only chance to win this father-son competition. I will never again beat him in any kind of waterman competition but I know he can rescue me if I ever get into trouble. How cool is that?

So if you get into trouble while visiting one of these Southland beaches and a small, skinny kid dressed like a lifeguard, comes to your rescue, have no fear! You are dealing with one the strongest, most knowledgeable , most dedicated, cool-under-pressure lifeguards on the beach!

*Just kidding Chuck! When are you going to teach us kite-surfing?

Labels: ramble