Yesterday I was watching the news and saw that B-list celebrity and Playboy playmate Yvette Vickers was found dead in her home in LA. Nothing struck me as notable about this story. Another celebrity death, again someone I had never heard of... so I prepared to change the channel to Seinfeld. But just as I was about to push the button I heard the reporter say, "Vickers was believed to have been dead for close to a year when her neighbor discovered her."
A year.
This poor soul was dead for ~365 days until someone finally noticed she no longer existed. My subsequent progression of emotions were: stunned, empathetic, introspective, paranoid, resolved.
I initially thought, "How can someone live a life wherein they have so little human interaction no one would miss their presence FOR A WHOLE YEAR?" A day, understandable. A week? Maybe. Two weeks? You're pushing it. A month? No way. Once my mind had resolved the straight logistics, my heart got involved. This Ms. Vickers led a solitary life, devoid of family, friends, even amicable neighbors- the kind who might leave fudge on your porch around the holidays or yell "Hi!" as they get in their car and see you trimming your begonias. Humans are inherently social beings (even the bat-shit craziest of us), and for this woman to be able to go a year without being missed speaks volumes about the intense reclusiveness she must have experienced. I felt in my heart a pang of grief for not only her, but for the what I'm sure are many solitary souls nudged aside by themselves or society. Sure, we all feel a little like Lucy Ricardo in the "Friends of the Friendless" episode once in a while, but (I hope) none of us can come close to relating to this extreme.
Then the focus turned to me. How long would I have to be dead before anyone noticed I was gone? I hope I have lived my life in such a way that I have enough human connection/interaction that people would not only notice I was gone (and rather promptly, at that), but they would also care. An excerpt from Linda Ellis's "The Dash" reads:
For that dash represents all the time
That she spent alive on earth
And now only those who loved her
Know what that little line is worth.
Of what has my dash been thus far comprised? Sure, I'm still relatively young, but I'm also a realist in knowing I could die at anytime. Maybe we should all be in constant evaluation and re-evaluation of what that dash would represent to those who knew us. Many would measure that dash based on accomplishments and milestones, but it's about more than that. What have you meant to the lives of others? If you know me, you know how much value I place on relationships. It is my personal credo that life is wholly, completely, unequivocally, 100% about the relationships you build and keep- be they with God, your family, your friends, your belongings, or yourself. I can only hope I've meant something (however big or little) to the lives of everyone I've had the pleasure to have known. Of course during this introspection a bit of paranoia crept in, as I tried to piece together the entirety of the relationships of my past, but that didn't last long. One of the many things I'll credit to my soccer career in terms of life lessons is the stark realization that while the past cannot be changed, the future is entirely up to you.
And that's what led me to my final emotion: resolution. Sometimes it takes the pitiable death of an ex-Playmate to serve as a reminder that we control what that dash will represent to those we will leave behind. It's not that I want everyone I've ever known to experience an intense sadness when I die, but it is my great hope that I will leave behind enough of a profound legacy that in my absence, those I knew will be touched. I've lost (to Heaven's gain) people in my life whose deaths certainly had that effect on me, and because of that they will never be forgotten.
I believe that dash is a worthy one when everyone in the room at your funeral would know the last thing you would want is for them to feel grief, yet simultaneously would internalize the sentiments of W.H. Auden:
(S)he was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
If you died tomorrow, what would your dash mean?
Monday, May 16, 2011
Saturday, May 7, 2011
And away they go
Today marks the 137th running of one of America's most storied sporting events: the Kentucky Derby.
Throngs of track enthusiasts and garishly big-hatted ladies will swarm Churchill Downs today, whiskeys neat in hand for the former, mint juleps for the latter, knowing that they are among the select few privy to witnessing what many dub "The Greatest Two Minutes in Sports." Most of us, however, will be sitting at home or at a bar or at our local track, having to rely on the clearest picture our HDTVs can provide to capture the majesty of the beasts' powerful gallop. The exhilarating victory. The crushing defeat.
Growing up about 7 minutes away from the Santa Anita Racetrack (see link above... you may recognize it from such films as A Star is Born (1954), The Debtors (1999), and Seabiscuit (2003), to name a few), I've frequented this great American pastime a bit more than most my age, a surprising revelation discovered when I departed the cradle of the San Gabriel Valley. I grew up loving everything about the races; from the spectacle of the red-coated, top-hatted bugle player calling the first race's entrants to the post, to the array of emotion on the faces of bettors, depending on how their picks ran. Then there was the time between races. As I aged, that time evolved from half-hour intervals to make mischief with my cousins to precious 30-minute slots for beer refills and going over the next race's potential bets with friends.
Ah yes, playing the ponies: in my opinion, the most exciting form of gambling. Through the years I've had the opportunity to witness countless "sure-fire" systems different types of track-goers employ to pick winners. The following types of bettors are my favorites:
1. The bet-small-to-win-small-ers: aka the bettors who never lose. Unfortunately, they don't really win anything either. These are the people who will pick the egregious favorite (i.e. 2:9 odds) in every race to show (show= come in first, second or third place). They will bet $1-$2 to win about 20 cents. My Grandma falls into this category. Then again Grandma ALWAYS goes home from the track having made some sort of profit, even if it is 70 cents, which is more than most of the rest of us can say.
2. The I'll-pick-whichever-horse-whose-name-I-like-best-ers: This demographic tends to be dominated by girls, or those who have no idea how to read a racing form. I have many friends who utilize this system (*cough* Alice Binns *cough*) and they lose. Every time. The horses with the cutesy or clever names, for some reason, are usually the 50:1 longshots (perhaps they have a complex from having such ridiculous names as "Fantasy Cream Puff", etc). There are two good things about this bettor-horse relationship: 1. Their money will go straight the winner's pool, increasing your profit and 2. The names make for some hilarious commentary.
3. The ride-on-the-coattails-of-a-first-timer-ers: There is an inexplicable law of the universe holding that people who have never bet on horses before, or even been to a racetrack, who have absolutely no idea what they're doing, always win. It never fails. Some call it beginner's luck. Call it whatever you want, but it almost always happens. Some bettors have gotten wise to this, bringing track fledglings along with them and betting on whichever horses they do. The only problem with this, however, is that it usually only happens for one race, and you never know which race that will be.
4. The whichever-horse-takes-the-biggest-dump-right-before-the-race-ers: Before every post-time, the horses take an exhibition walk around the paddock area, then slowly make their way around the track to the starting gate- an ordeal that usually takes about 15-20 minutes. During this time, everyone present can make any last-minute observations before they run over to the betting window to place their final wagers. These bettors count on the sureness of anatomy: if a horse takes a huge shit right before the race, he will consequently be lighter and more comfortable with newly-vacant intestines, and therefore will run faster. My dad swears by this method.
5. The I-do-my-research-beforehand-ers: These people tend to be inherent nerds. The day before going to the track, and the morning of, they scour blogs, newspaper handicaps, and past results to try and construct a scientific formula to apply to every horse in every race the next day. This method is both time-consuming and often leads to said nerds reevaluating the "importance" of studying, because if it were that easy, every math geek in the country would be a filthy-rich track junkie.
6. The I-know-a-guy-on-the-inside-who-gives-me-foolproof-picks-ers: These bettors tend to be wiseguys who think they know it all. My brother Jimmy falls into this category. More experienced and having a greater interest in horse racing, these are the people you'll find at the track multiple days a week, every week. The regulars. They get in good with those affiliated with the track who can tip them off, give them insider information: the trainers, sometimes the jockeys. These bettors always seem to have "hot picks" or "sure-fire winners." Though you'll often hear of the huge trifecta they hit a month ago or the pick-six that brought them several-$K last year, remember they are losing money on all the days in between on bets they conveniently tend to leave out of conversation.
Me? You'll have to come to the track with me one day to find out. No matter what type of bettor you are, the key to playing the ponies is remembering what it is at its core: gambling. There is no fool-proof system. Any horse can win on any given day. Who will it be today? Your answer, I'm sure, will reflect the type of bettor you are.
If you're interested, post-time for today's race is 6:24pm EST. Enjoy!
Throngs of track enthusiasts and garishly big-hatted ladies will swarm Churchill Downs today, whiskeys neat in hand for the former, mint juleps for the latter, knowing that they are among the select few privy to witnessing what many dub "The Greatest Two Minutes in Sports." Most of us, however, will be sitting at home or at a bar or at our local track, having to rely on the clearest picture our HDTVs can provide to capture the majesty of the beasts' powerful gallop. The exhilarating victory. The crushing defeat.
Growing up about 7 minutes away from the Santa Anita Racetrack (see link above... you may recognize it from such films as A Star is Born (1954), The Debtors (1999), and Seabiscuit (2003), to name a few), I've frequented this great American pastime a bit more than most my age, a surprising revelation discovered when I departed the cradle of the San Gabriel Valley. I grew up loving everything about the races; from the spectacle of the red-coated, top-hatted bugle player calling the first race's entrants to the post, to the array of emotion on the faces of bettors, depending on how their picks ran. Then there was the time between races. As I aged, that time evolved from half-hour intervals to make mischief with my cousins to precious 30-minute slots for beer refills and going over the next race's potential bets with friends.
Ah yes, playing the ponies: in my opinion, the most exciting form of gambling. Through the years I've had the opportunity to witness countless "sure-fire" systems different types of track-goers employ to pick winners. The following types of bettors are my favorites:
1. The bet-small-to-win-small-ers: aka the bettors who never lose. Unfortunately, they don't really win anything either. These are the people who will pick the egregious favorite (i.e. 2:9 odds) in every race to show (show= come in first, second or third place). They will bet $1-$2 to win about 20 cents. My Grandma falls into this category. Then again Grandma ALWAYS goes home from the track having made some sort of profit, even if it is 70 cents, which is more than most of the rest of us can say.
2. The I'll-pick-whichever-horse-whose-name-I-like-best-ers: This demographic tends to be dominated by girls, or those who have no idea how to read a racing form. I have many friends who utilize this system (*cough* Alice Binns *cough*) and they lose. Every time. The horses with the cutesy or clever names, for some reason, are usually the 50:1 longshots (perhaps they have a complex from having such ridiculous names as "Fantasy Cream Puff", etc). There are two good things about this bettor-horse relationship: 1. Their money will go straight the winner's pool, increasing your profit and 2. The names make for some hilarious commentary.
3. The ride-on-the-coattails-of-a-first-timer-ers: There is an inexplicable law of the universe holding that people who have never bet on horses before, or even been to a racetrack, who have absolutely no idea what they're doing, always win. It never fails. Some call it beginner's luck. Call it whatever you want, but it almost always happens. Some bettors have gotten wise to this, bringing track fledglings along with them and betting on whichever horses they do. The only problem with this, however, is that it usually only happens for one race, and you never know which race that will be.
4. The whichever-horse-takes-the-biggest-dump-right-before-the-race-ers: Before every post-time, the horses take an exhibition walk around the paddock area, then slowly make their way around the track to the starting gate- an ordeal that usually takes about 15-20 minutes. During this time, everyone present can make any last-minute observations before they run over to the betting window to place their final wagers. These bettors count on the sureness of anatomy: if a horse takes a huge shit right before the race, he will consequently be lighter and more comfortable with newly-vacant intestines, and therefore will run faster. My dad swears by this method.
5. The I-do-my-research-beforehand-ers: These people tend to be inherent nerds. The day before going to the track, and the morning of, they scour blogs, newspaper handicaps, and past results to try and construct a scientific formula to apply to every horse in every race the next day. This method is both time-consuming and often leads to said nerds reevaluating the "importance" of studying, because if it were that easy, every math geek in the country would be a filthy-rich track junkie.
6. The I-know-a-guy-on-the-inside-who-gives-me-foolproof-picks-ers: These bettors tend to be wiseguys who think they know it all. My brother Jimmy falls into this category. More experienced and having a greater interest in horse racing, these are the people you'll find at the track multiple days a week, every week. The regulars. They get in good with those affiliated with the track who can tip them off, give them insider information: the trainers, sometimes the jockeys. These bettors always seem to have "hot picks" or "sure-fire winners." Though you'll often hear of the huge trifecta they hit a month ago or the pick-six that brought them several-$K last year, remember they are losing money on all the days in between on bets they conveniently tend to leave out of conversation.
Me? You'll have to come to the track with me one day to find out. No matter what type of bettor you are, the key to playing the ponies is remembering what it is at its core: gambling. There is no fool-proof system. Any horse can win on any given day. Who will it be today? Your answer, I'm sure, will reflect the type of bettor you are.
If you're interested, post-time for today's race is 6:24pm EST. Enjoy!
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