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Today I’ll give you a break from my opinions political and economic, and just allow you some insight into where my head is from a personal and fitness level.

(proper) Futbol is done for the Fall season (http://shockers.wordpress.com/). And, as I navigate a recent betrayal from an erstwhile friend (who was an important part of all that) and reorganize my thinking around my passion for “the beautiful game”, I’ll have some fun writing, the holidays, and focusing on my youngest daughter with some road trips (pretty dresses, carriages, Broadway and FAO Schwartz, here we come!).

Meanwhile, at the tender age of fifty (just stop, if only for a moment, and ponder that entendre), I like it when people tell me I look great, and ask how I stay so fit.

I still have my “wheels”, I can do more push ups and pull ups than most human beings, and I manage quite well on an unusually low number of sleep hours.

There was quite a media furor when the news got out that I had issues with my achilles tendons. But, that’s passed and I’m feeling more like myself, now.

Lacrosse beckons – and, with it a keen desire to get out there and put some recent college graduates and defenders on their collective backsides.

What you don’t know is that I am too old for a sports injury to be a status symbol or anything other than a dent in the armor that is failing. But, the key to my long-term fitness strategy is to maintain a rigorous, albeit smart fitness routine with a balanced nutritional plan. I’ve recently stopped thinking about trying out for the Falcons as a walk-on Quarterback (and, I’ll not likely pursue medical school with an eye towards being a surgeon). But, I will follow through with ending up at a university teaching future entrepreneurs, compete again in a Ironman Triathlon, and look to scale a few hazardous mountain peaks.

It’s my life. And, I’ll live it.

Peace be to my Brothers and Sisters.

Brian Patrick Cork

JBS U14 Shockers Nation are 2010 Kohl’s Cup Champions

Sometimes we simply must set the rough-and-tumble of life aside, and just breathe (some of those times are chest-clenching gasps).

I had an awesome weekend of soccer with my daughter Haley Anne. She had one of the best tournaments of her achingly young life. And, as both a coach, and certainly a Dad, I was so proud of her. Especially in the finals wher she swept any hope of victory out of our opponents hands again, and again, and again leading the defense through four matches with only two goals against us.

We had a slow start Saturday morning losing to the Hinesville Gators (that apparently were undefeated through the regular season and the tournament with no goals against), but surged in the last fifteen minutes to set the pace for the rest of the tournament. We saw some dramatic action, and we proved that we can play and beat anybody with fantastic play from each and every player. In the finals we got that first match back against the Gators for the tournament Cup.

Thank you, and Shockers all.

NOTE: In last year’s Kohl’s Cup U14 Shockers Christy and Mars guest played for (now) sister team JBS Breakers who beat that same Hinesville Gators team in the finals. It was also that very same Gators squad that hurt (then) U14 Breakers Colette with an injured ACL. So, a JBS U14 team has won consecutive Kohl’s Cups and fought through the Gators to earn that distinction, while exacting a form of satisfaction (we should not use words like revenge or vengeance – oops, I just did!) for Colette along the way.

Brian Patrick Cork

I miss my Dad.

I think my readers (and, certainly those of you, otherwise, closer to me) know that he took his own life on October 6th, the day before my Birthday. That was a good number of years ago. But, the rawness of it still explodes at the back of my skull every October. I had this gripping post ready to go. But, I’ve sat on it for weeks, uncertain why, until now.

Yesterday I had a good day with Emma Jo.

A quick aside, if you’ll indulge me… I spend a good amount of time with Haley Anne – especially around proper football (soccer). She is gorgeous. And, yesterday I realized that she is developing a love for writing, in her own right. My Dad had more of a gift for drawing. But, her creativity, in general, would have delighted him.

Meanwhile… We are preparing to move our household deeper North into Alpharetta (Milton) horse country off Freemanville Road. There is a long story attached to this. But, I’m more interested in some of the highlights occurring in and around the “big picture”.

While rummaging through the storage spaces in, what will shortly be referred to as the “old house”, we came upon containers crammed with family photos. In one crumbling box was a treasure trove of photo albums and curling black and white snap shots of Haley Anne and Emma Jo’s ancestors. This included my Dad in many an enigmatic situation. There were a bunch of them with him with his arm around me. Or, me hugging him from behind while he worked on some project (this made me recall that I often hugged my Dad. I never shied away from that, even in public, through High School and College). And, these fascinated Emma Jo. She took right to them with an endless and insightful stream of questions. But, the best part was the bonding as she snuggled into me. So, she was my “buddy” all day. We made a few trips back-and-forth to the “new house” having loaded up my big black bad-ass truck. And, we were fortunate to have another classically beautiful Georgia Fall day because the drivers-side window is broke and won’t close. So, we had this incredible moment with a lull in the easy conversation when Emma Jo was caught thinking carefully between questions and observations. She looked so happy. The golden light was pouring through the window and highlighting her hair, still almost white from the lake and sun, that had the wind pushing wildly around her shoulders and face. Her cobalt blue eyes were bright as diamonds. She looked over at me winsomely and shrugged, rather shyly. And, it struck me that Dad had ironically created this moment.

I was so incredibly thankful.

Dad was a better man than me. And, I was fortunate to have him in my life. And, he is always my inspiration for the sort of earthly father I try to be every day. So… October sixth can come and go. But, Dad and Mom live on through Emma Jo and Haley Anne. And, all of it means me living the Authentic Life.

You can roll your collective eyes at me – and, I’ll give it little merit. And, so, I’ll share this video from Glee and their cover of: I Want To Hold Your Hand with you. It’s apropos, to be sure, and I think Chris Colfer is a terrific singer.

Peace be to my Brothers and Sisters.

Brian Patrick Cork

sometimes people listen to me (even my fourteen year old daughter Haley Anne). and, when they, that “collective they” do, sometimes they hear me talk about “remembering the face of my father”.

I do use that “device” for both my earthly and heavenly father. but, today, it’s about Dad.

I’m doing so because I’m remembering him. it’s the best way, I think, to honor someone – by recalling something they did that’s worth comment. and, in the case of the description that follows I think this comes in the form of something I believe happened, and ironically, only a few men would have witnessed, but was likely a defining moment for the man most of us can never be.

over the course of a life, and in this case, it was my young life, we pick up on things about the people around us. I was lucky, just enough perhaps, to have Dad in my life for most of twenty five years. in that sophomoric period of my existence my perspective had to be skewed by perception and lack of some information. but, my sense of circumstances leads me to an image of my Dad in a tough spot.

imagine this… or, this is what I picture the sort of man my father was…

Col. Clifford D. Cork USAF

it’s likely 1969 and Dad is serving one of his tours of duty in Viet Nam. eventually he would become one of the youngest Air Force officers of his era to command a Wing of B-52’s (Stratofortress) /1 under the vaunted Strategic Air Command (SAC), but also do it from the navigators chair. the B-52 was capable of altitudes that exceeded 35,000 feet. it’s monsoon season, so his plane has travelled across the storm-tossed sea dropping down through unimaginable weather, hitting turbulence that lifted and dropped the aircraft 3000 feet at a time, turning the crews stomaches from twisted knots to mush. Dad had to take turns puking into a bucket between his boots that are all but frozen to the deck, and fight his own mind-numbing fear to speak calm commands to his pilot through his air mask/ helmet radio. his primary objective (other than to lead under what he taught me was: “being a steely-eyed-missile-man”), was to use a set of simple tools (i.e. rulers, pencils, and maps) and his brilliant mind to form complex calculations that would guide his crew with pin-point accuracy to drop their payload on the right target – and, not innocent civilians.

B-52 Damaged During Turbulence

Dad once told me, something to the effect: “there were times when we were bouncing up and then down so hard and fast that all I could think of through the screaming groans of the tortured wings was that they would shear right off the fuselage”.

I knew my Dad, sort of. I don’t, and sincerely, believe he was a brave man. in fact, I understand there was much in life he feared (i.e. the loss of my Mom, and poverty). however, his courage is unfathomable. he put himself in that situation countless times, and did it better than most men that shared that chair with him (many of the B-52’s built saw service in excess of fifty years).

peace be to my Brothers and Sisters.

brian patrick cork

_________________

1/ Dad was one of the few SAC officers that also commanded a Missile Wing (silos). this made him unusual both in his spheres of responsibility, but his incalculatable ability to learn and lead.

by the way…

in January of 1964, a B-52D carrying two nuclear bombs suffered a structural failure in flight that caused a fire to break-out on-board. apparently over the course of emergency maneuvers the tail section sheared off. four crewmen ejected successfully before the aircraft crashed near outside of Lincoln, Nebraska. several crewmen perished. the pilot was unable to eject, and died in the aircraft. both weapons were recovered. this was one of several incidents caused by failure of the vertical stabilizer.

my Dad was part of that crew. so, there is some perspective for you, that my Dad had to carry with him going forward. and, that is another story that’s currently percolating in my head. I remember that day… I was watching television and I saw my Dad’s face appear on the screen just as my Mom took a telephone call from “the wives network”. I recall her hollow: “oooh God, …Cliff”. But, Dad came home. He always smelled good.

So…

I’ll freely admit that I thoroughly enjoy the Disney Channels: Zeke and Luther.

Learn more about that, here: Do it!

I don’t watch much television – even the Discovery Channel, which is what most sanctimonious pricks claim to watch when they piously claim not to watch television, when in fact the probably watch House and Greys Anatomy and often with the help of their Tivo. But, if I can, I’ll watch witty shows like Zeke anf Luther, and also Phineas and Ferb – which is totally awesome.

My little Emma Jo probably is not sure what to make of me standing in a room howling at the television when these shows are in progress. I suspect Joanne would rather I was elsewhere.

Peace be to my Brothers and Sisters.

Brian Patrick Cork

If you’ve followed this Blog, or are my friend (and, sometimes it’s hard to do both), you know that my earthly father took his own life back in 1986 – most likely because he was heart-broken over the loss of my mother. If you’re so inclined, you can indulge yourself and learn a bit more about that by reading: My Dad: Story 22 – Married For Life.

That tragic reality is relevant to this current post for two reasons relative to myself, although it may well be relevant to you for more, other, or no cause or effect. One reason for me is that I can, or could, relate to my Dad’s mourning of Mom. I could never abide a life without Joanne in it. And, apples come from trees, as it were.

I don’t discuss it, broadly, but Dad might have been manic depressive, as well. I doubt I’m afflicted with such a curse. I’m generally much too optimistic for such things. In fact, my recent post: optimism is apparently quite popular with you, collectively. It’s hard and cruel to label people. And, probably unwise to attempt uncertain diagnosis. But, Dad was clearly head-and-shoulders above the crowd when it came to intelligence, drive, ambition, and a capacity to love while also being mean (but, like a lot of high-ranking Air Force Officers of his era, he drank a lot as well). And, that appears to be part of the profile. To be sure, the branches of my family tree (we seem to lead by many examples, with more good than bad) certainly have their own demons.

Me? I’m open-minded, pun intended.

So, that might be my lot. Maybe not. And, I don’t mean to over-analyze. I wonder if one can be a hypocondriac when it comes to mental illness? Or, is that paranoia? I’m trying to be light-hearted. But, God help me with both the journey and discovery.

One of the ironies, here, in this line-of-thinking, might include: if you have a form of mental illness, how could you, or would you know? Also, would you care? Or, if you did, would you be inclined or inhibited to take positive action? If conscience is involved, how would that be separated from “voices”?

But, I also have scienter. You see that term referenced on this Blog, fairly often. I think it’s part of living an authentic life (yes, another recurring theme), and being accountable and responsible. But, that torch brings with it a burden, of sorts. Just because there might be the potential for mental illness, or any problem (it took me ten minutes to ponder the word problem because I detest it, and strive to avoid using it. however, it’s apropos), for that matter, this doesn’t mean we can use it as an excuse – and therefore can’t be absolved of accountability. Thusly, It’s my position that if we know there might be a problem, we have to be willing to account for it and seek ways to overcome that challenge. Furthermore, if we’re to think such a burden exists, then I’m confident I have to realize extremes, if required, to compensate for it, for the betterment of others.

So, and ironically, this test might qualify as a form of super powers that must be used for good. Or, I’m just being delusional. But, I mean well.

Peace be to my Brothers and Sisters.

Brian Patrick Cork

two words:

love and hate.

or, love and hatred.

they represent genuine extremes, I think.

as an aside… we’ve witnessed; and unfortunately, some of you have lived – “love hate” relationships.

but, some people love to hate. we assign that to terrorists, for example. other folks might submit they hate to love.

“there’s nothing in this world so sweet as love. and next to love the sweetest thing is hate.” – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I’m intently considering my keyboard, and thinking love is an elixir, whereas hatred is fuel. however, both can be the foundation for a cause. and, a result of a cause, I  suppose.

apparently there exists, some where, but I don’t, in truth, care precisely where, a study using a brain scanner to investigate the neural circuits that become active when people look at a photograph of someone they say they hate has found that the “hate circuit” shares something in common with the “love circuit”.

I’m thinking the opposite of love is not hate. however, it could be indifference. but, we’re trying not to introduce other words, here. on the other hand, indifference is not the same result if you say: the opposite of hate is not love. the meaning, if not the entire context changes, and radically.

what the hell, I’ll add an aside, here. me? I’ll fear indifference long before hate, and certainly love. indifference might suggest the loss of hope. And, maybe that’s the key to strapping on a vest stuffed with dynamite, or losing the will to love. love might take more courage and effort than hate, after all.

these words, and their application, might represent an important battlefield. the on-going war that rages (now, that’s an interesting word relative to this line-of-thinking) between these emotions is relentless. we seem to have just enough religion to make us hate, but not enough to make us love one another, unflinchingly. it’s more likely that love will turn, and viciously, into seething hatred, and not so likely that hate will transform itself into love. if someone were to say: ‘I hate loving”, it’s sad, but that is more easy to relate to than: “I love hating”, which almost sounds like a chest-thumping cause for action, or call-to-action.

hate is often considered to be an evil passion that should, in a better world, be tamed, controlled and eradicated. yet, I think were you a biologist, hate is a passion that is of equal interest to love.

like love, hate is often seemingly irrational, and can lead individuals to both heroic and evil deeds. this fascinates me. how can two opposite sentiments lead to the same behavior?

perhaps that line-of-thinking led Ella Wilcox to say: “love lights more fire than hate extinguishes.”

I can’t say I agree with that. for example, love is often viewed as given, whereas is hatred is acquired. but, we can demonstrate how hatred is ladled-out carefully and becomes so much more powerful over time. if someone handed a terrorist (we really do leverage that term liberally, don’t we) a flower, they would likely shove up the givers butt, or grind it into dust and mix it with weed-killer and craftily introduce it into their coca-cola. having said that, perhaps the makers of coca-cola are actually terrorists of a sort because soft drinks are, indeed poison, and slowly killing a large portion of the worlds population. too many people say: “I love coca-cola”, and not enough say: “I hate coca-cola”. but, I digress (although shareholders of coca-cola enterprises love to make money, and certainly don’t hate it).

me? as I continue to explore the complexities of living the authentic life, I’m more likely to try and love, in general. or, at least care. this is where indifference creeps back into the thinking. I’m not sure you can win once love is part of the equation because many lines become blurred and the self can be lost. but, nobody actually wins where hate evolves. that’s a kobayashi maru. I’ll submit once indifference corrupts the soul, there exists hatreds foothold. and, I’ll often try to encourage my fourteen year old daughter to try, and hard, not to even use the word hate in a sentence – especially relative to people, and also inanimate objects (like new cellular telephones) – but more so, then, from a common-sensical standpoint. I also want her to be careful about dispensing and leveraging the word love. there is that tipping-point, after-all.

it all requires a lot of thinking and consideration. a cause, if you will, for that winnie-the-Pooh figgerin’ spot.

peace be to my Brothers and Sisters.

Brian Patrick Cork

what’s all this about?

I can’t explain what that damn tree means - or, if it might stand for something.

However, here I do discuss events, people and things in our world - and, my (hardly simplistic, albeit inarticulate) views around them.

So, while I harangue the public in my not so gentle way, you will discover that I am fascinated by all things arcane, curious about those whom appear religious, love music, dabble in politics, loathe the media, value education, still think I am an athlete, and might offer a recipe.

All the while, striving mightily, and daily, to remain a prudent and optimistic gentleman.

brian cork by John Campbell

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"Perhaps victory can be realized best when the heart changes."

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about this particular Theme:

I'll warn you now that Tarski is theme of this blog created by Benedict Eastaugh and Chris Sternal-Johnson. It is named for the logician Alfred Tarski. I'll recommend his papers ‘The Concept of Truth in Formalized Languages’ and ‘On the Concept of Logical Consequence’, both of which can be found in the collection Logic, Semantics, Metamathematics.