I am a Saint!

I am many things.  Among them I am a Saint!

To truly appreciate the New Orleans Saints’ Super Bowl XLIV championship, you have to understand their history.  I was born in New Orleans on December, 4, 1962.  I wasn’t born with a Saints pennant in my hand because the team did not yet exist, but just four years later I adopted the black and gold.  On November 1, 1966, appropriately enough on All Saints Day, Commissioner Pete Rozelle announced New Orleans received an NFL franchise.

The future looked so bright when Saints played their first NFL regular season game on September 17, 1967, against the Los Angeles Rams in Tulane Stadium.  (Yeah, you young ‘uns, the Rams used to be in LA.)  John Gilliam returned the opening kickoff for a touchdown, but the Saints lost 27-13.  From there, it was a downhill ride.  New Orleans finished with a 3-11 record.  The franchise did not have a winning season until two decades later.  A rare highlight came on November 8, 1970 when Tom Dempsey, a player with a club as a right foot, kicked an NFL record 63 yard field goal on the final play of the game to beat Detroit 19-17.

The Saints moved into a new home in 1974 with the opening of the Louisiana Superdome, but playing in the largest fixed structure in the world did not change their losing ways. The team’s on-field misery hit a crescendo in 1980 when the Saints began the season with 14 consecutive losses.  A local sportscaster called on fans to go to games with bags over their heads.  They listened and that signaled the birth of the inglorious “Aints.”

New Orleans played its first ever playoff game in 1987, but lost to Minnesota 44-10.  The Saints lost their next three playoff games as well. It wasn’t until December 30, 2000, that the Saints won a post-season game thanks to a 31-28 victory over the Rams.

In August 2005, Hurricane Katrina roared ashore.  The category 5 storm killed approximately two thousand people, forced the levee system to fail sending hundreds of thousands out of their homes, and caused $81 billion in damage making it the costliest Atlantic hurricane ever.  The Saints’ home field became “home” to about 30,000 Katrina refugees.  It took $185 million to repair and refurbish the dome inside and out.  That forced the distracted New Orleans squad to play its entire 2005 schedule on the road with “home” games at Louisiana State University, San Antonio and another at Giants Stadium in New Jersey.

In a major emotional boost to the struggling city of New Orleans, the vagabond Saints returned home to the Superdome on September 25, 2006 for a nationally telecast Monday Night game against the Atlanta Falcons.  The repaired roof just about came down again only 1:25 into the game when Steve Gleason, a player whose college career at Washington State I covered as sportscaster, broke through the line and made one of the most emotionally-charged plays in franchise history.

The Saints advanced to the NFC Championship that season, but failed to get past Chicago to qualify for their first Super Bowl.  However, all that changed in 2009.  Riding the golden arm of quarterback Drew Brees and his 4,388 yards passing and 34 TDs, and an opportunistic big play defense, New Orleans finished with a 13-3 record.  The Saints then rolled over Arizona, slipped by Minnesota and defeated Indianapolis 31-17 to win Super Bowl XLIV.  Just four short years after the physical and emotional demoralization and devastation of Katrina, the New Orleans Saints became Super Bowl Champions.

The Saints may be just another team to many, but this victory was not just another win for another team in another sport.  This victory brought a restored sense of vitality, hope and enthusiasm to a region still gasping to recover from disaster.  (And with that same fighting spirit, I know it will overcome the effects of the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico too.) I teared up when I watched Katrina unleash its fury on the city of my birth.  I yelled for joy when Tracy Porter returned a Peyton Manning interception for a touchdown and clinched victory for the Saints in Super Bowl XLIV.  I had a huge lump in my throat as I watched tears fill the eyes of Drew Brees while holding his young son on the field as the confetti fell from on high.

I am many things.  Among them I am a Saint.  A very proud Saint!  (Super Bowl XLIV highlights below)

My Mom is My "Friend," the Facebook Phenomenon

We now live in a world our great grandparents would not comprehend.  As a young boy, I still remember how my great grandmother would watch from the porch as I chased her geese around the yard until they would get so angry they’d turn about and start chasing me.  (Never understimate the anger of a gaggle of geese.)  She would also easily (and kindly) destroy me in a game of Chinese Checkers.  But if she were here today and I used the words “tweet,” “blog,” or “google,” she would have no earthly idea what I’m talking about.

The numbers spell out what a wonderous, wireless world we live in.  According to Internet World Stats dot com, 2.1 billion of us use the Internet–that’s roughly a third of the world’s population.  Com Score dot com reports there were 131 billion searches conducted by people over the age of 15 in December of 2009 alone.  That’s four billion searches a day, 175 million searches an hour, and 29 million searches a minute.  And you can bet the numbers are a lot higher now.

Mark Zuckerberg

Okay, let’s look at the social networking site Facebook.  The idea began in the fall of 2003 when Harvard student Mark Zuckerberg was in his dorm room blogging about a girl that dumped him and tried to do something to get her off of his mind.  He hacked into Harvard’s computer network, pulled photos out of the system and asked users who’s the “hotter” person.  The site drew 450 visitors and 22,000 photo views its first four hours online. The following semester, he wrote a code for a new website called thefacebook.com.  After a series of technical and financial moves, Facebook launched to the public in September of 2006. By December of 2008, it had more than 54 million visitors.  By December of 2009, it had 112 million visitors.  As of July 2011, it had more than 750 million users, passing Google as the most popular web site in the world.

Here’s my Facebook story.  The “higher-ups” at work wanted us to expand our branding by expanding into social media.  All four of my kids were already on Facebook, but I never really paid any attention to it.  So with some corporate urging, I eventually decided to create a personal Facebook account in order to create my Facebook “fan” site, Mark@KPAX.   

I fired up the account at work one night just before I went home.  There wasn’t anything on it except maybe a photo and very limited personal information.  When I logged in the next day, I had four or five “friend requests,” and some of them were from buddies of mine I hadn’t heard from in decades.  As the friend requests continually trickled in, I clicked on their “friend lists” and found other past friends of mine.  Instantly, I was hooked.  I re-established friendships I wished I never lost.  And they came from all facets and time periods of my life:  childhood friends from my years in Wichita and Calgary, multiple requests from a large group of kids from my teenage church youth group, former friends when I was a missionary in Italy, old college buddies, former co-workers during my days as a sportscaster in Topeka and Spokane and as a newscaster here in Missoula, current co-workers, hunting buddies, family members who now live in different places all across the country, and the list goes on and on.

At an out of state family gathering, I logged on to a computer.  My mother was there and I showed her my Facebook pages.  She took an interest and noticed that all of her children and most of her grandchildren are also on Facebook.  Ten minutes later, she had her own account and now I can proudly proclaim “My mom is my ‘friend.’”

Now, I am firmly entrenched in the world of social media.  And it offers both social and work-related benefits.  In addition to Facebook, I am also on Twitter.  I also established a YouTube account that recently passed 75,000 page views.  Plus, I have this blog site.  (By the way, the links to all my sites are on the upper right side of your screen.)  I never would have thought I could type my name into a computer, do a search, and it would go to a trio of personal web sites, or that anyone would even care.

Despite all this high tech madness, I do have one Facebook regret.  If only I could receive a “friend request” from my great grandmother.

Freedom of Choice

"I'll say it again in the land of the free.  Freedom of choice...is what you got."  Those words come from the title track of the album "Freedom of Choice" released by the new wave musical group Devo in 1980, about the same time I graduated from high school.  (Yeah, I'm that old.)  But those words ring as true in my ears today as they did in those of the founders of our country who wrote the Constitution.  America is a country based on freedom of speech, freedom of religion and freedom of action, but it seems over-regulation and the personal pursuits of a few seek to take away the freedom of choice by many.

Here's one simple example.  The watchdog group Corporate Accountability International wants to retire Ronald McDonald.  It claims the long-time face of McDonald's draws children to obesity the way Joe Camel lured kids to smoking, so it took out a number of advertisements in major newspapers to call for his dismissal.  I get the point.  I used to beg my mother to buy (Sugar) Frosted Flakes when I was a kid, in part, because I loved Tony the Tiger.  But more than that, I loved the cereal and still do to this day.  Does it have sugar in it?  Yes.  Is that bad for me?  Some will argue that it is, but that's not the point.  The issue is I have the freedom to do what I choose and then let the consequences follow.  In a recent issue of the Wall Street Journal, Al Lewis wrote, "To blame Ronald for lifetime addictions to high-fat, highly processed foods is to deny personal responsibility.  And if they get Ronald, who is next?  Chuck E. Cheese, the plastic-faced Burger King and that pigtailed brat, Wendy." 

If I chose to sit on the curb in front of my house and jam a screwdriver into my ear, shouldn't I be able to do that?  Sure, it would hurt like heck and I'd have to go to the hospital and may lose my hearing or suffer other consequences, but isn't that my freedom of choice? 

Okay, that's kind of an extreme example, but here's another one in my opinion.  San Francisco, the city that already infamously outlawed the McDonald's Happy Meal, is on the verge of another freedom-limiting  fiasco.  A man named Lloyd Schofield gathered 12,000 signatures to achieve his goal of putting a ban on circumcision on the November municipal ballot.  He says it is a form of mutilation.

Lloyd Schofield

"The foreskin is there for a reason," said Schofield. "It's not a birth defect. It serves an important function in a man's life, and nobody has a right to perform unnecessary surgery on another human being." 

The ban would make it a crime for the procedure to take place on anyone under the age of 18.  If found guilty, the person who performs the circumcision would face a misdemeanor charge and pay up to $1,000 or serve a maximum of a year in jail.   Some doctors say circumcision reduces the risk of infection.  Others do not.  It is a prevalent procedure in the United States and important ritual in many religions, especially for Jews and Muslims. 

Hey Lloyd, if you don't believe in something, that's fine.  Don't do it.  But why take away others' freedom of choice?  Even Devo believes in that.  (And yeah, their video below is bizarre at best.)

One Wheelin' Muni-ac

I have a confession.  I am a middle aged muni-ac.  "Muni" is short for mountain unicycle.  A mountain unicycle is to a regular unicycle what a mountain bike is to a street bike.  A muni has a big, knobby tire; a heavy duty frame; durable cranks; and metal studded pedals.  In other words, a muni is tough enough to tackle mountain trails, go down stairs and do tricks.

We recently added three munis to our collection that now totals seven unicycles hanging on the garage wall.  The others include two 6-foot giraffes, a 20-inch unicycle and my old 24-inch Schwinn, which suffered a bent hub after an untimely "incident" involving my teenage son.  I ride a yellow and black 24-inch Onza which Jace found on Craigslist in Madison, Wisconsin, after the "incident."  Jace then purchased a new, orange and black 24-inch Nimbus online.  Then last Christmas, I found a red and black Torker muni on Craiglist in Spokane for my daughter Hallie.    

The Holyoak Collection

What makes unicycling so appealing to me, other than its unique head-turning nature, is that it can be a family affair.  And that's certainly the case for me.  I first started riding when I was about 12 or 13 years old.  My brother had a Schwinn with a 20-inch wheel.  He outgrew it so he started riding a 24-inch Schwinn and passed the little one down to me.  When I outgrew it, I got a 24-incher and passed the little one down to my sister. 

With the kids on Kootenai Creek Trail

Cooling off on the trail

One generation later, I find myself trying to keep up with my son and daughter.  I can ride as well as ever, but they are more advanced in trick riding--riding without a seat, riding one-footed, wheel walking (putting both feet on the tire and moving the unicycle forward without touching the pedals), bouncing and jumping over obstacles, etc.  But what we really enjoy is trail riding.  There's nothing like heading into the mountains and facing the challenges of rugged trails, steep drop-offs, and seeing occasional wildlife along the way.  We were a ways up a rugged trail in the Bitterroot Mountains a year ago when we came across some hikers.  They looked at us like "What in the heck are you guys doing up here?"  It's such a workout, such great bonding time, and such a blast.          

But it's not just all Holyoak family, all the time either.  Earlier this month, we put out the word in an effort to draw more unicyclists to the Bike for Shelter--a popular bicycling fundraiser for the Watson Children's Shelter in Missoula.  It worked.  We ended up taking along two friends and met three new friends who also ride.  Now we look forward to getting together for some group trail rides this summer.

The Big Sky Muni-acs

I guess what I really enjoy is the adrenaline.  Jace and I experienced the ultimate in adrenaline last summer when we took our munis up to the chairlift at Snowbowl Ski Resort above Missoula and rode them five miles to the bottom (see video below).   We later paid the price because we were e-x-t-r-e-m-e-l-y sore for four days to follow, but what a great memory.  We plan on making a return trip this summer, but this time with Hallie and perhaps with some of our new one-wheelin' friends too.  As for other endeavors this summer--more trail riding and possibly a backpacking trip on one wheel into the back-country.  After all, that's what being a muni-ac is all about, right?

          

Getting "Old"

There's no way around it.  I am getting old.  When I was a kid, I thought people my current age would soon drop off and die at any moment.  I don't have a problem with getting old.  In fact, enjoy it.  Well, I enjoy most of it.

I just finished up a month-long odyssey of getting contacts/glasses for the "first" time in my life.  (I actually had reading glasses during my college years because I spent so much time studying in the library.  No really, I did.)  I didn't realize how lucky I was.  All three of my siblings got glasses when they were just kids and my parents wore them for years too.  I wanted to find contacts I could wear on the news set and when I play sports, but I also knew I'd need glasses.  

I was somewhat naive thinking the contacts/glasses would be just the same as my previous 20-20 vision with naked eyes.  Distance contacts allowed me to see distant mountain peaks with clarity, but my hands in front of me were fuzzy.  I tried three different kinds of multi-focal contact lenses in one eye with distance contacts in the other, but couldn't seem to focus on anything.  My best combination ended up being a distance contact in my right eye while putting nothing in my left.  That allows me to see the prompter and the scripts on the news desk.  My glasses are blended bifocals which are kind of funky, but I'm still getting used to them.  The funny thing is when I work at my desk on the computer, I still don't wear contacts or glasses.  Making adjustments is just part of getting old I guess.      

I did get some interesting comments from friends when I showed up on air wearing glasses for the first time.  "You look smarter."  "You look more dignified."  "You look more distinguished."  My personal favorite was "you look more believable."  Hey thanks...uh...wait a minute!  All nice compliments, but then again, if I now look more dignified, distinguished and believable, what does that mean for how I looked before.  Hmmm...

Another sign of getting "old" happens every time I get my haircut.  The funny thing is the hair that falls on the floor looks dark, but the hair remaining on my heads looks lighter and lighter.  How is that possible?

There are definitely some benefits of getting old.  I enjoy aging with my wife, who doesn't seem to show it.  I enjoy watching my children grow and learn.  I also enjoy "playing" with them.  I know I'm not getting too old because they continually say things to me like "Dad, why don't you act your age?" or "Gosh, why don't you grow up?"  I'll take those as compliments. 

Luckily, I have had a very healthy life and remain quite active.  A year in my life is not divided up by "four seasons," but by multiple seasons.  There's hunting season, hockey season, basketball season, hiking season, unicycling season, softball season, canoeing season, fly fishing season, floating the river season, etc.  Maybe staying active helps keep me "young."  A couple of years back, four of my hockey teammates (members of the local Missoula Maulers junior hockey team who I could rarely keep up with) were about a third of my age.  I had a rec league hockey teammate recently tell me he thought I was ten years younger than I am.  I'll definitely take that as a compliment.     

So yeah, I don't have a problem getting old but perhaps Mark Twain said it best:  "Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter."  I couldn't agree more.