Homage letter for Charlie Salmon

“It is hot today!” I exclaimed as the young man kept toiling away at the rear tire of the dirt bike. “Better get used to it” he said as he began to pump air into the tire, “this bad boy should be ready soon.” I couldn't wait to have my first ever go around on a motorcycle. As the engine revved up Charlie twisted the throttle and let go of the clutch for a quick run around the yard, just to make sure everything was working right before he let me have a chance. “How's it running?” I asked as he slowed to a stop in front of me. “She's purring pretty good. You can try now. Hop up on the seat and I'll teach you how to give it gas as you let up the clutch.” Patiently he kept at it as the engine sputtered out time and time again. I was losing patience, I just couldn't get the hang of this machine. “You just gotta be smooth and feel the bike forward” he said as I tried for the umpteenth time to get the bike into gear. This time the rear wheel started to turn and the bike lurched forward. I let go of the clutch and I was cruising as fast as 1st gear would take me. “SHIFT UP! SHIFT UP!” shouted Charlie as the engine roared a high-pitched squeal. “Shift?! How do I do that?” “Clutch, then press the peddle.” I grabbed the clutch but couldn't find the next gear as the bike slowly crawled to a stop. “Dangit, I'll get this next time” I said as Charlie ran over to inspect the bike. “Next time is gonna have to wait, seems my handiwork has done too much handiwork and we got a flat.” Eventually I would figure out the start, the shift, even the driving off a mound of dirt all thanks to Charlie's determination to teach me the finer aspects of handling his dirt bike.


That summer was the first time I had ever traveled by myself and the first time I had truly felt like an independent person. That summer was the first time I'd rode a dirt bike, the first time I ever got up on water skis, and the first time I caught air on waterskis and met the water first-hand face first. It was a magical summer that was the first in a chain of events of personal exploration and it was all thanks to a cousin who lived in another universe called the country and the things I learned from him about being self-sufficient and being the best at what I did.


From then on I took a new perspective into all the things I did. After Grandmother passed, I found myself thinking about family a lot. I didn't know how to pay homage to one my favorite things, until after I returned from a month long backpacking trip in Montana. From then on before each of my cross country races I would take the time, on the starting line, to close my eyes empty my mind and say a little prayer. Run Hard for friends, as I pictured the faces of my friends Joleen and Tomas, Run hard for family, as I pictured Grandmother and all my aunts and uncles and my cousins ending with the memory of that summer with Charlie, Run Hard for my team and for myself. It never let me down as I raced with maximum effort every time.


This leads me to a story that I feel I must tell to explain why I am unable to come pay homage at the memorial for Charlie. As a senior captain, completely aware as the responsibility I had to continue the 3 year rein my team had over the State of Wisconsin, I had felt as though my team was lacking in the competitive edge to be the best they could possibly be. The guys were lost in running certain times and in the fact that we hadn't placed well at most of the meets that season. But I knew that my runners were stronger and better than they believed. So I put a challenge to them, I questioned their effort and I pushed them to work hard and run faster as we completed a ten-mile run. We dropped down to within 20 seconds of their race pace for the last two miles, just so they could understand first-hand that they always had more to give for the team. Then at the team meeting I challenged all of them to forget about running for a time and a place, but instead just to run for someone on the team. For the seniors, for the freshmen, for themselves. But to run their hardest for the team. Standing on the starting line, we were a focused group. As I crossed the finish line, I knew I had succeeded in teaching them what they needed to know about their own abilities. The reason I knew was because I could see my teammates ahead and just behind me as I myself crossed the line in a lifetime PR of 16 minutes and 54 seconds for 5k. I knew we as a unit had found the spirit of what being a Shorewood Cross Country team was about. As a varsity unit, we got together and ran over to the JV team as they prepared to begin their race. We were ecstatic and I put it to them to succeed as the Varsity guys had. As they left our huddle and returned to the line a freshmen, Ben Tyler, came up to me and said with an enormous smile “I did it. I ran for you and I ran so well. I ran for the seniors and I feel amazing.” A giant smile came across my face as I gave him a hug and we cheered the JV team on.


Ben is now a junior and will be competing at the WIAA State Track and Field meet this weekend. He has made some huge strides since that freshmen season at the edge of the varsity team. He set the school record in the 5k last season, a blazing 15 minutes and 44 seconds at our home invite. He took 5th place at the state meet that year and is now a contender to win the 2-mile race at the state meet. His PR is 9:39, but he will go faster. He has told me how helpful I was as a senior to embody the spirit of running and teach him how to lead. I have had the amazing opportunity to be an assistant coach for the Shorewood track team this spring.


When I found out from my dad about Charlie, I was heart-broken. He had always been such a strong and unique person in my life, but no longer would I be graced by his smile. Just hours earlier I had watched Ben, Peter, Emily and a girls 4 by 400 relay qualify for state. I could not wait to see them represent the uniforms I so dearly loved. But the news of Charlie made me realize my priorities had changed. My dad asked me if I was going to come and I had no answer at first. I couldn't quite grasp what had happened and I wanted to see my team compete at the state meet. So I told him to call me the next day and I will have decided. By the time the phone rang the next day I hadn't made a decision and as he asked me again if I was going to come to the memorial I said that I was really torn between state and Charlie. He said, in a very somber tone, I should do what I feel I need to and that he wasn't going to influence my decision. I sat with the phone to my ear as the memories of Charlie flooded my mind, a mix of the images of the state meet and that great summer with Charlie begin to meld into a new thought. What would Charlie want me to do? Then I remembered the conversation we had at Grandmother's funeral, when we talked about our running and he told me to keep it up and to beat his best time. I finally spoke and said I think Charlie would want me to see out this coaching thing. I think he would want me to succeed at it and that can't happen if I am in Texas. I thought to myself about the next year when I will be coaching our Cross Country team and how happy he would have been for me. My dad with a noticeable change in tone said Ya thats good I think thats a great thing I'll let the family know. I told him that I needed to tell them.


So this Friday afternoon Ben will be toeing the line at the University of La-Crosse's new track stadium, where 15,000 people are expected to watch the meet. He knows what I am sacrificing for him and I know he will run for Charlie Friday as he did for me two years earlier. If there is one aspect of myself that I hope my runners will emanate, it is my un-ending compassion. I know they already glow with it and Ben, Peter and the girls will run that much harder for me, but mostly for Charlie. I love you all with the endless compassion I have and I hope you understand why I have decided to see through my coaching. This is just the first time Charlie will have motivated me as a coach, but he will forever leave an amazing impact on my life, as that summer brought me to where I am currently, his memory will take me everywhere I go from this day forward.


Love,

David

Monday Night. I still can't say what I want.

You've passed me by enough times to drive a tractor crazy, and still I haven't said hello. Flashes of laughter race my thoughts as I imagine what could happen. Glimpses of sadness drown my head, I can only hope and wish that I could swim. I dreamt that maybe, possibly, everything I feel might pass to you through a hug. There you go, strolling by. I can feel in your stride, that you feel me too. The possibility of hi and how are you seem as shallow as a ditch, and as far from sight as lake michigan. Still I haven't said hello and still everything that could be won't. Never will the torment cease to be until I just say howdy.

~~~~

My eyes are closed, my mind is open. All conscience flows out my ears and fills the room. The awareness of movement, the awareness of sound until finally the walls cannot hold my internal perception. I see beyond the body, beyond the soul, and I gaze deeply at the birch outside my window. I gaze curiously at the rabbit racing fear as though the terrifying grill of a vicious dog. In through the nose flows suffering, filling my lungs with the dark ominous life. Out through my nostrils rushes compassion, a million miles an hour and a pause to admire the clouds.

~~~~

I dreamt one day, that I could think nothing personal. The next day I believed I could think about everything outside myself. With the next mornings awakening I felt from every cell of my body, that I is no longer there is only us. By the night I could not shake the feeling that something was wrong and I could do nothing. My back, I feel as though I cannot feel. My spine, I know the twists that come should bring something. My head, is filled with nonsense to the brim and an obsession with the future. I dreamt that night, that anything was possible and in the morning I could feel that nothing is forever. Nothing is everything.

UWM Application Essay.

Competing as a runner is as unique of an experience as climbing a mountain. Both are solitary acts, no matter if there is a team giving support, every step must be taken individually. The only way to accomplish the almighty goal, is to simply do. The measure of success is a personal judgment based off an individuals preconceived goals. The ultimate satisfaction comes in being the best, the fastest, the strongest. But these feelings can only be articulated, never purely shared. The only way to share the success of a personal quest such as running or climbing, is to stand atop the summit waiting to embrace fellow companions on a great job. There is nothing selfish about personal success, but there is everything selfless about succeeding alongside friends. A stranger might walk into the arena at Shorewood High School and see four trophies with large cut-outs of the State of Wisconsin and say, what a bunch of winners. Any of the athletes who raised those trophies over their heads would say, what a bunch of friends. When the days of glory have long passed by and the rigors of working a 40 hour week don't shine so brightly on an aging body. There will always be the memory of what sacrifice, hard-work and pure effort meant to a group of young men. A friend is never too far away, sharing in the same idea that humility is the only way. Sharing in the memory of sacrificing the personal conquest of the racecourse for the success of the team always made for a happier end. The long lost memory of simply competing for the sake of competition, and leaving the ego for Psychologists to debate. One last reminiscence of putting yourself only as high as everyone else, because then everyone can walk away with a smile. And at 20 years old now what an event to reminisce about, having been the most important player in, which is always teammate.

There is something special about being young. The world was so much larger, the time to do anything was always just around the bend, and the idea that anything was possible is no longer the past-tense. An amazing thing happens when you forget everything that is you, and you consider what it would be like to be him over there, or her sitting next to you. Not just thinking about what they could be thinking, but thinking like they are. Learning is the eternal pursuit of personal understanding. The process of learning plays the largest role in being a youth. Such imagery as “eye opening”, “ the enlightened spirit”, “the awakened mind” could be used to describe a religious experience. But I use those ideas to describe what learning truly is.

Throughout high-school I found myself annoyed when my fellow students complained about homework. I couldn't seem to understand what their problem with homework was. I certainly understood that the only reason to do homework was when you didn't learn enough during class time and I always learned what was being taught. I knew that no matter how much home work my fellow students did, they all seemed to be missing the big picture. They all seemed to be ecstatic when they got on A, and heartbroken when the fine curves of a C showed up. I was ecstatic when I got an A, happy when I got a B, and a C always brought out sentiments of probably not reading all the questions completely. At the end of the semester, no matter my grade I was happy. I was happy to know that I learned what this teacher was attempting to teach. I knew that no amount of homework could have taught me better, than simply contemplating as I did. Taking the time to think about those really mystifying and transcendent ideas. Eventually having thought enough to apply what I learned to my personal perspective of the world. Homework was never necessary when contemplation worked just as well.

“Support the troops, bring them home!” I once chanted alongside 4 friends on Capitol Dr in front of Shorewood High School. I help up a long banner that said, “No War in Iraq!” Through my veins coursed the passion of a thousand pacifists. All that went through my mind was the idea of Peace, and oh how passionately that peace came yelling out of my mouth. We were 5 twelve and thirteen year olds, and how much we despised the violence out of our control, happening in our name. America the great. We had walked out of our middle school lunch and right to one of the busiest streets in Wisconsin. Through our personal and unique articulations of what peace meant to us, we came together to learn something mighty and beautiful about the free act of expression. The only way to be heard, is to speak. From that day forward I made a point of being heard. I made a point of bringing passion to learning, a passion that created a unique atmosphere of learning. When a class comes together to understand a tough concept, the class grows in a collective way. The dynamic of expressing a personal revelation in universal terms and knowing that those students whose eyes and ears are open, heard it. That is the passion of learning and that is the beauty that always shines in the dynamic of collective learning.

You asked what I bring to the UWM campus, and what I have stated above is one way to describe that. By no means could four paragraphs give a complete picture, and by no means have I done justice to my life as described. My intent is to portray an image of a human being willing to speak his mind confidently. That intent going as far as describing how I find humility in all of my actions, in all my of my being. But most importantly, I am hoping that you see that I strive for meaning in everything I do and the best way to find meaning is to share meaning with another by simply involving them in the whole process. This is effectively the fourth draft I have written, the first three didn't get past an introductory paragraph, and I meant to show you how much learning means to me. How much I know learning means to everyone. In the first three drafts I attempted to sum up in one catchy saying everything that I believe in, but the more complex an idea gets the less pure it becomes. So I will leave you with my eternal and unchanging personal quest. A quest that I developed while happily being in the minority at Xavier of Lousiana in good ol' Nawlins. I strive to have compassion for all living beings. Since I have returned home from the dirty south I have added that I strive to show that compassion through every single one of my actions. This upcoming Fall is going to be the best yet, filled with the most passion, all topped off with the only goal, which is to learn. Thank you for giving me that opportunity.

The 3 Respects of Athletics

On how to be a team. Shorewood-style.

Every action you make as an athlete impacts the team as a whole, be it positive or negative. A self-less athlete learns from the actions that bring negative consequences, and repeats the actions that create a positive impact on the team. A selfish athlete does not learn from their actions, but simply revels in their own glory. The team is always bigger than the individual, without the individual there is no team. Without a team, an athlete competes for no benefit but their own.

A Shorewood athlete exudes excellence in the classroom and on the field of competition. Easy thing to say for the classroom, quality of education is of the utmost importance to this school, but how does a Shorewood athlete begin to find excellence in competition? This search begins with a self-less attitude and ends with respect. The 3 Respects of Athletics must be sought out in order to find excellence. Respect for the Coach, Respect for the Team, and Respect for the Individual.

To respect the coach, the coach must be thoroughly defined. A coach is a human being dealt the role of athletic facilitator, or of being a leader. A leader who's job, is to create a constructive atmosphere in which learning of a sport occurs. A coach has a distinct set of experience and education from which arises the foundation of their coaching philosophy. In order for a coach to be, there must also be an athlete. A coach is a teacher and the athlete their student. Listen, then act. That is the role of the student. To question only and as often as it is necessary to fully understand the sport. A coach respects the athlete as the athlete respects the coach.

To respect the team, the team must be defined. A team is a collection of human beings similar in age, diverse in personality, and selfless in nature. Each individual human being carries a unique set of goals, beliefs, philosophies, and experiences. A team carries but one goal, belief, and philosophy. The individual of a team finds strength in acting rightly to achieve the team goal. To act rightly one must find respect for the team, and then act on it.

To respect the individual, the individual must be defined. The self, I, me, but most importantly you. You have a unique personality. You have a specific set of beliefs and philosophies. You are the only human being to have experienced every second of your existence. You are the key to a successful team. You find patience and control in always giving your maximum effort. You trust that your coach will teach what is necessary to maximize your potential, as you trust your team will give as much effort in every practice and in every competition as you do, and the only way you know this effort will be given by the entire team is to always give your maximum effort.

You will find excellence yourself when you

respect your coach, respect your team, respect yourself and always act selflessly.

The team goal is to:

be the best possible team, at the WIAA Regional Meet.

The team belief is:

to be the best possible team, everyone must give maximum effort at every practice and every competition.

The team philosophy is:

everyone must always strive to have no regrets.

Set 3 achievable goals based around The 3 Respects of Athletics, The team goal belief and philosophy, and being a self-less teammate.

Setting an achievable goals means asking yourself, what are you going to do to guarantee the success of the team. Be creative and get complex, or be insightful and stay simple. Be honest and use the writings above to guide you or ask a teammate or a coach.

Flicker of a Dance

I pay homage to where I have come from,
I pay homage to where I am going.

Spread your arms wide and embrace,
the humility of love,
I pay homage.

Close the door to open the window,
gaze at the wondrous blue,
wandering infinitely, round
the bend to eternity,
I pay homage.

Step light as not to disturb the flicker
of a dance, between wicks afloat
and the dark of night,
I pay homage.

Extend me a branch and I will extend you my
hand, open palm to your beating heart,
open spirit to your beautiful mind,

I pay homage, to life and love,
homage,
to foe and friend,
homage,
homage to you,
homage to me,

I pay homage, my friend.

1 o'clock in the freaking morning

And I've only thought up a million ways to happiness. At least that is the easiest way to sum up the epic brainstorm I need to complete.
1. Wake up tomorrow exuberant to be alive.
2. Set an accomplishable goal for the day.
3. Accomplish the goal.
4. Be constantly mindful of the meaning in living.
5. Be constantly aware of the purpose in actions.
6. Be constantly happy to share in companionship.
7. Make no decision without consulting compassion.
8. Remember the benefits of a strong mind and a stronger body.
9. Find humility in accepting an integral part of the natural cycle.
10. Be happy to be free.
11. Act happy to be free.
12. Remind someone new, they are beautiful too.
13. Be beautiful.
14. Let happiness be the only option.
15. Have compassion for all beings.
16. Act Compassion.

What is a Compassionate Business?

Compassion is the one word to sum up in entirety to love and to care. To be a compassionate business means to have a sense of purpose and of awareness. Purpose in offering a local fairly-traded product. Awareness to strive to think as your customer might and consider your impact on the quality of their life.

Be in control of the product you rise every morning for. Be apart of the process from the bottom to the top. If you can not be, then suggest Sustainable Reform. The Easiest way to prove, is to Show them how, and Do your homework.

Definition of terms:
Sustainable Reform - A call to the reform of all industry and all government using a Sustainable business model and Green technology. Waste not a single penny.

Fairly-traded - A level of accountability held in order to take care of the people and the Earth at every level of the business process.

Local - Designing the business Model around your community. The fact is every business is located somewhere and that somewhere has most likely lost some jobs recently. So why not try to rethink business and focus it on the faces you see everyday, first. Because once you have taken care of home then smiles a plenty are all but guaranteed.

Manifesto of an Honest Boy

Today is the day I take control of me. Fun is as fun does and now is no better a time to start.

Today is when I act only when I will to be active. To have control to say what I mean and nothing more.

Today is the day the safety and security of me offers enough to do everything I want and nothing less.

Today I am stronger than yesterday, tomorrow I am stronger still. Never before have I smiled so, as never again can I smile less so.

Today humanity is the last barrier to real humanity. With your passion and compassion, tomorrow will be vast blue skies, deep blue waters, and comfort in sharing this new found freedom.

Judgements never dwelled upon as forgiveness is a guarantee.

The manifesto of an honest boy seeking more than when we last spoke, taking a second chance before a third is given.

What, Oh What a State Indeed

I do declare a state of Contemplation. A state in which excuses stand pat as national security threats; the only tax breaks are earned by those living in action; a compassionate purpose strived for until the wheel ceases to roll.

There is a new beginning in catching patience and a new belonging in catching up with friends. Open the senses to the essence, close the mind to the impurity of the sufferer.

Enjoying the seconds pass by, comfortable knowing the presence of mind and the pretense of time extend from the person, interfering only on command.

I do declare this state a successful succession. This state where a million excuses are no more than a million missed opportunities; livelihoods fulfilled by acting within the love of living more than in the in loving of life; accepting that the wheel always ceases to round the final bend.

An early exit, stagecoach left, offers the serenity of emptiness. The only presence, the pulse of the bubbling brook and the only movement, the flutter of leaves amidst the slow aging arms of wooden giants.

And in this state of bliss rises the eternity of existence. With the first break of light over the deep green horizon, a spirit rises. Weary feet find balance underneath the unwielding freedom of simply being Human.

Un-Edited Utterances #1

Inspired by…

A word so common of my youth is the foundation of this United States and the foundation of its free people. A word that has been used so casually and freely, but how often is its meaning and purpose truly broken down and understood? What I speak of is the word different, often described as differences. This word is simple enough, meaning an object that is dissimilar to other objects. In the context of the American life that definition fails to express the depth of its meaning. What makes us different are the way’s we look and the music we listen to, right? These obvious differences of wearing an outfit from GAP, or from Express, of being a historian of vintage fashions, or the designer of a unique set of fashion designed by and for one person are all mere expressions of personality. The fashionista would say fashion is a critical aspect in every person’s life, to “look good” is a key to happy life, or at least to making your poorly dressed friends respect your looks. The critical lens shown when mismatched socks are worn or conflicting colors show up in an outfit is again a mere expression of one’s unique personality. Does that mean appearances are a deciding factor in what a person’s passions and curiosities are? Differences, from the perspective of my culturally white upbringing, do start in appearance and end at the ability to call oneself “normal”.

A friend might kindly state that your clothes don’t match and your hair is dirty but a mere acquaintance may not have as kind of an approach. The missing part of this equation, fashion equaling personality, is the deniability of understanding the reason behind both sides of this idea. How do you begin to generally describe personality in the American context? This thought begins and ends with differences.

To begin to describe the American personality you have to first take a step back from your own personal experiences to realize that not one single human lives the exact same life. As humans we are genetically different and inherent in that most basic of difference is that naturally we all treat similar experiences differently. Outcomes may be similar but the method and thought process used are stamped with a unique personal style. One of the most prevalent themes in every human’s life is the idea of love and its antithesis hate. It is a stretch to say that every single human has experienced these emotions and thoughts, but the ideas emanate from every culture and every corner of the world. In our own lives the ideas of what love means personally and how one should go about finding that love varies from the poetic articulations of music to the physicality of sex. Hate finds its base from a lack of love or from a misconception of differences. This argument would imply that hate stems from love and that one cannot exist without the other. In an ideal world every child is born and placed into the awaiting arms of an all too loving mother or father. The first breath of air from this earth might be followed by screams and cries but the first interaction and momentous experience involves the simple caresses of a caring parent. That is love, way before its antithesis has a chance to germinate. But of course like everything about being human, experiences are unique as well as the responses to them. Maybe there is no caring parent waiting to revel in the beauty of their creation. A mother pre-occupied with the burden of another mouth to feed, or the burden of unbalancing a cultural belief of to whom and when a child should be born from. The exceptions grow rapidly and seem to have no end. If a child is given the opportunity to grow from a baby, to a toddler, to reach the stages of adolescence, to a teen, and eventually to adulthood it is almost guaranteed they will have to reason and deal with these basic experiences of love and hate. Each child granted that opportunity will also come to different conclusions using different methods of processing and understanding. Of course the idea articulated above is just the utterances of one human with one set of personal experiences to guide this critique. Nevertheless the correlation between the beauty of human existence and the differences inherent is no less true.

So take the American ideal of difference, so utterly idealized, articulated as a mental-physical state and you have a fundamental belief that has guided the creation of the automobile and the artificial pacemaker, great conservationists and great capitalists as well as the genius behind the millions massacred under the credo of FREEDOM and DEMOCRACY. It is the fact that humans are different and American’s are even more different. But the issue with the American personality, as bloated and rambunctious as George Bush’s budget deficit, is the inability to understand what really makes people different. The superficial has ruled as the social hierarchy has demanded it. The culture of White America has always been the status of differences. Be it poor or rich, origins of Europe and Africa, Asia and the Latin world. The point of it all was to take note of and ostracize differences. In my life the point is to be different, but the reality is we already are. Striving to be something that is fundamental is nonsensical and damaging. Striving to be different is a simple rejection of the human existence and its replacement is merely a figment of reality. The American personality is therefore living a double life, one life consisting of the real experiences that make up each American’s personality, the other the projection of strived for differences on the façade of each person. Neither of which seem to enjoy acknowledging the other, showing up in the internal conflicts of self-image and being self-conscious.

The long and short of differences, the long being stated above, is that human existence is dynamic. No one idea can be all encompassing and no one realization is eternally true. The beauty of being alive is not figuring out every possible way to articulate how different people are, but to understand and believe we are all different and to take the time to revel in it. The human condition is rarely ideal and oft controlled by external sources, but compassion and genuine interactions are easily internal decisions. The idea that humanity is diverse, and always has been, and is different without conscious effort is the foundation for the freedom American's experience on a daily basis. As well as the fundamentals of what makes the United States the land of the free.