Long-time readers know that every December, I compile a list of the 25 (or so) most memorable moments in my life over the past year. At times, I've found that this blog accomplished nothing more than to remind me about some of the "memorable" moments I may have forgotten.

When I look back at 2006, it seems like everything worth mentioning happened either in April/May, when during the wedding/honeymoon phase or in September/October, during the move to Maine phase. Sadly, Jill and I have shared custody of the computer over the past few months, and the wireless internet we're "borrowing" from a neighbor comes and goes, so the majority of the moments from the latter phase have gone unbloggedabout. I'll try to touch on those moments here so that I can expand on them in my Moments feature.

-On September 9, I moved into my new apartment in Portland, leaving behind my favorite person (temporarily) and my least favorite town (permanently).
-On the 10th, Jill and I added two fish, Tony and Maria, to the family.
-On the 11th, I started work at the United Way, where the people are wonderful, the contacts are limitless, and the work, while often frustrating, matters.
-I was sick for most of my first week in Maine. Immediately after my recovery, Jill and I learned that we could walk to the Old Port and had a fantastic first weekend in Portland.
-In mid-September, I learned that there will be a new human addition to my (non-immediate) family, though I'm not sure how public this information is at this point.
-In late September, I learned that Jill and Joe had finally, officially, painstakingly sold their house. On the same day, I bought two more fish and named them Lorr*ine and A*i, after the buyer.
-On October 1st, thanks to much help from Jeff, Colleen, Scott, Beth, Byron, and Matt, Jill and I moved the majority of the contents of the house in Framingham to my new apartment in Portland. I threw my back out on the Framingham end, but was able to drive up and unload pillows and clothes on the Portland end. Most of us celebrated with a sleepy night on the town.
-The following weekend, Jill came up for a U Dub happy hour, where she met several of my associates, and particularly hit it off with Liz and Mike. We went to the Portland Pirates' opening night hockey game, where I joined several U Dub employees on the ice to accept a check from the Pirates, and capped the fantastic evening with drinks at Brian Boru.
-The very next day, the Tigers made it six in a row. I'm sure you've already read about that in this space. Jill and I celebrated with a fancy dinner on a boat. We visited several lighthouses in Cape Elizabeth on Sunday before I sent her back home.
-On October 8th and 9th, I was in the Portland Press Herald, first for the Standard U Dub new employee introduction, then to advertise the success and early returns of our campaign.
-The next weekend, I returned to Jill's mostly-empty home to decorate her basement for the following week's haunted house. In between these weekends, Tony and Ali died, leaving four fish in the aquarium.
-On October 23, Jill had her 8th annual Halloween party at Linda's place in Framingham. The party, as always was a smash hit, which would explain the feeling for most of this week that I'd been repeatedly smashed and hit.
-Yesterday, Jill picked an official last day at the 'Source, November 15, which puts her in Portland about 9 weeks after I arrived. In celebration, I added two new fish to the collection: Cosmo, a gold tuxedo swordtail, and an ugly bottom-feeder tentatively named Edgar.
-Today, I blogged about it all. I'm sure I forgot several items I might deem noteworthy. I hope you can forgive me.


Setting the record straight

A friend of mine asked yesterday how I felt about Corey Lidle's death, as if I might be happy, since he was employed by the Yankees at the time of his death. I hate the Yankees, and take much pleasure in their every failure on the field. I honestly believe that baseball would be a better game if George Steinbrenner didn't exist, and that the six teams that have knocked them out of the playoffs the last six years have done a great service to the majority of Americans.

I do not, however, value their demise over human life.

Jill and I watched the end of Game 4 last Saturday at Foreplay in Portland, cheering with a handful of other patrons as Jeremy Bonderman destroyed the $200 million lineup I expected to see scoring twleve runs a game through the end of October. I spent the next hour calling anti-Yankee loved ones, revelling in another win for the good guys, and I'll spend the next twleve months relishing someone else's defense of their world championship. However, if I could go back to that moment, knowing that if the Tigers won, Corey Lidle would die, and if the Yankees won, he would live, the choice would have been easy. I would have walked away from the TV and crossed my fingers that a six-year-old boy would not grow up without a father.

Then I would have bought an A's hat and crossed them again.

While we're on the topic of baseball deaths, Buck O'Neil died last weekend. I don't find it particularly sad when a man in his nineties passes peacefully, but I cried. I don't think I cried for Buck O'Neil. Common wisdom says that, despite being forbidden from playing and coaching in the major leagues, not to mention choosing his own seat on a bus, O'Neil held no grudges against the ignorant majority that treated him like a lesser man. Once he was allowed into the major leagues as a coach, he was motivated not by revenge, but by opportunity. He seemed to enjoy every aspect of life, even the least pleasant ones.

I cried for Buck O'Neil not as a victim, but as a symbol of the small-minded hatred that kept millions of people from enjoying the basic human rights I've taken advantage of since birth. And I cried because my generation, despite our access to the many lessons of history, isn't doing much better. We still live in a world in which a referendum to keep gays from enjoying the basic rights (and responsibilities) of marriage is used as an incentive to bring the small-minded to the voting booth and re-elect an ethically-stunted warmonger.

Maybe the gay community needs a Jackie Robinson, a Rosa Parks, a Martin Luther King, Jr.- someone who can preach common sense to those who don't want to listen. Because I don't want to cry when Elton John dies.


They're grrrrrreat!

Diamondbacks, Angels, Marlins, Red Sox, Angels, Tigers.

Thanks to Jeremy Bonderman, Justin Verlander, Todd Jones, Joel Zumaya, Magglio Ordonez, Carlos Guillen, Craig Monroe, and even "Ball Four" Rogers. You've made the rest of October much more watchable. Six in a row for the good guys!