Mary Lou’s BBQ is Texas-sized Treasure

Posted on May 2, 2013 by theurbanllama
Mary Lou's BBQ, at 226 Walton Avenue, just celebrated its one year anniversary.

Mary Lou’s BBQ, at 226 Walton Avenue, just celebrated its one year anniversary.

It’s hard to find much Texas in this corner of the Bluegrass, but Mary Lou’s BBQ in Lexington delivers an oversized taste worthy of the Lone Star state.

It’s located in a funny little spot on the corner of Walton and Aurora Avenues, just off Winchester Road, down from the Jif peanut butter plant. It borders on a residential area, and is positioned nicely to become a true neighborhood hangout.

Restaurants in general and barbecue in particular can be fickle endeavors in Lexington. It’s the land of the chain eatery. Much of the landscape is filled with pre-fab, faux-atmospheric choices that offer budget fare for the masses.

While Owensboro and Paducah have established barbecue cultures, the same isn’t true of central Kentucky. It’s more a melting pot of all things. The barbecue tends to be extremely hit and miss in terms of authentic quality. Too often thick sugary sauces are utilized to cover up poorly smoked meats.

Thankfully Mary Lou’s, which opened in April 2012, is a welcomed addition to Kentucky’s burgeoning barbecue culture.

The person behind this fine establishment is John Dance, who grew up on a farm near Williamsburg, Ky. He previously owned the Good Ol’ Days Barbecue restaurant in Midway back in the 1990s. Mary Lou’s, which is named after a dear family friend, is a natural combination of his Kentucky roots and love for Texas barbecue.

“I have family in Arlington (Texas), and have been cooking down there for years,” Dance said.

Being this is a Texas joint, I was particularly interested in trying the beef brisket. Kentucky and down through Tennessee is pulled pork country, along with mutton of Western Kentucky fame. It’s in the southwest where brisket and hot sausage are at the top of the menu.

Just like attitudes in the Lone Star state, orders at Mary Lou’s come in two varieties, regular or Texas-sized. I cowboyed up and went large.

Mary Lou 3The brisket sandwich came out with four or five substantial quarter-inch slices of beef piled on an oversized poppy-seed bun. The smoky smell hits you first, like it’s been dry aged in smoke.

Big chunks of charred beef ring the exterior of each piece, giving the slightest crunch to the more well done bits, before giving away to the buttery goodness of the interior. A visible smoke ring mixes with the right amount of fat to give each bite a smoothness.

This strata of flavors just opens up and melts in your mouth.

This is some seriously smoked critter. It takes the flavor right to the edge where there is even a touch of bitterness that works wonderfully. The smoke from the coals and the wood mixes with a vinegary essence that permeates the brisket.

It tastes like Texas barbecue should, and is a hard sandwich to put down, no doubt.

Campfire beans at Mary Lou's.

Campfire beans at Mary Lou’s.

Mary Lou’s includes a side of sauce, for those who prefer wet barbecue. It’s dark red, thick, and nonoffensive. The brisket doesn’t necessarily need it, but a few dabs don’t hurt and it mixes well with the smokiness.

Barbecue sauce should be negotiable. Too often folks spend more time concocting sauces than they do tending to the barbecuing.

“It should be used to embellish the meat,” said Mary Lou’s owner John Dance regarding sauce. “Let the quality of the meat speak for itself.”

Many so-called “barbecue aficionados” believe for some misdirected reason, that smoked meats should be cooked in a sauce. As Dance indicated, “most sauces have a lot of sugar in them, and if you cook it for 14 or 16 hours, it will burn. You don’t want that.”

Whereas the brisket at Mary Lou’s comes out moist, and leaves this intense smoky flavor for diners to savor all by itself.

Brisket, andouille sausage and pulled pork make a tasty 3-meat combo.

Brisket, andouille sausage and pulled pork make a tasty 3-meat combo.

I’ll be heading back to Mary Lou’s for their Texas Star Three Meat Combo, because if the pulled pork or andouille sausage, much less the ribs, are anywhere near as tasty as the brisket, I need to be eating here far more often.

Also, rib tips are on the menu. Those can be damn yummy.

I didn’t even try the sides, but did sample a complementary mash potato roll, which was delicious, as the owner brought out a fresh batch from the oven to share with those of us in the restaurant.

I will mention the sandwich here was a tad expensive. The jumbo brisket at Brooks BBQ No. 2 is $6, City Barbecue’s is $7, and the one at Mary Lou’s was $9. This makes the platters or combos a better investment. Generally though it’s comparatively priced.

Keep in mind Mary Lou’s is not a big place. There are a couple long tables inside, and oddly, three full-sized saddles that pony up to the bar for diners to sit on. Depending what time of day, it’s not a bad idea to call ahead for carryout. But if you are waiting, the television is on to watch games, and the beer is cold.

Come by Mary Lou’s for some Texas-sized hospitality.

MARY LOU’S BBQ

226 Walton Avenue | 859-252-4227 | Hours: Mon.-Wen. 11-6/Th-Sat. 11-8 | Menu

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George Jones Makes His Final Curtain Call

Posted on April 29, 2013 by theurbanllama

George JonesGeorge Jones is a hard man to kill. It took 81 years of heartbreak and hard drinking to put him down, but Friday in Nashville he left this mortal world.

This has to give guys like Keith Richards, Neil Young, Willie Nelson, and all the other high functioning mutants out there pause. The train ride, eventually, will come to an end.

Jones was the epitome of a country singer. He lived his songs first person, putting himself in the crosshairs of tragedy and despair with his drinking, drug use, and divorces. He may have been a mess, but Jones wasn’t boring, and along the way he became the voice of country music for better than 40 years.

His distinctive baritone styling and use of pacing in his storytelling created a sense of suspense in his singing. Fans hung on every syllable listening for the quiver in his voice to get a sense of how bad the circumstances were about to get.

Ballads and duets became his specialty. Yet it didn’t matter whom he was singing with or how many were in the crowd, Jones always kept a sense of private turmoil about himself. It didn’t matter if it was a rollicking Saturday night or his records were selling well – Jones knew his personal demons were waiting for him once the spotlight dimmed.

He was born in the oil field town of Saratoga, Texas in 1931, and started playing guitar by nine. His father tended to be a violent alcoholic. He bought Jones his first guitar for his 11th birthday, and would beat the boy if he didn’t sing for his drinking buddies.

Jones quit school in the seventh grade and began singing gospel songs on the streets of Port Arthur, Texas.

After leaving home at 16, Jones married Dorothy Bonvillion at 17, producing a daughter, but was divorced before her birth.

Jones began his music career in 1954, after being discharged from the Marines. He got married that same year to Shirley Corley, and within two years he was singing at the Grand Ole Opry, but his No. 1 hit “White Lightning,” in 1959, let everyone know Jones was drinking with vigor.

[GEORGE JONES | WHITE LIGHTNING]

There was a Grammy Award nomination in 1962 for one of his signature recordings, “She Thinks I Still Care,” and another lasting hit with “The Race Is On,” in 1964.

For whatever reason country stars always want to open theme parks, and Jones was no exception. In 1966 the George Jones Rhythm Ranch opened in Vidor, Texas, near his home. He played there once then disappeared for a month on a drinking binge.

It got so bad Corley hid the keys to all his cars, trying to make it physically impossible for him to travel to Beaumont, located 8 miles away, and buy liquor. Jones wouldn’t walk that far, but Corley failed to hide the keys to the lawn mower.

Jones recollects being upset at not being able to find any keys before looking out the window at a light that shone over their property. He then described his thoughts, saying, “There, gleaming in the glow, was that ten-horsepower rotary engine under a seat. A key glistening in the ignition – I imagine the top speed of that old mower was five miles per hour. It might have taken an hour and a half or more for me to get to the liquor store, but get there I did.”

[GEORGE JONES | THE RACE IS ON]

With a part in his hair sharp enough to slice paper, Jones had a distinctive look that never required he wear a cowboy hat. There was an authenticity in his eyes, and that knowing smile of the mischief he committed.

He was nicknamed Possum, for his close-set eyes and pointed nose, and even opened a nightclub in Nashville named Possum Holler – it lasted but a few weeks.

Mr. and Mrs. Country, George Jones and Tammy Wynette.

Mr. and Mrs. Country Music, George Jones and Tammy Wynette.

It was in Nashville he met and fell in love with Tammy Wynette, who also was married at the time, to a man that wrote songs for both her and Jones.

There was another divorce (1968), and he married Wynette in 1969, starting a turbulent, long-lasting personal and professional relationship.

They were “Mr. and Mrs. Country Music” to the world, it was even painted on their tour bus, but the marriage was troubled behind the scenes with all of Jones’s drinking and amphetamine use.

In Wynette’s 1979 autobiography, she recalled waking at 1:00 AM to find her husband gone, “I got into the car and drove to the nearest bar 10 miles away. When I pulled into the parking lot there sat our rider-mower right by the entrance. He’d driven that mover right down a main highway. He looked up and saw me and said, ‘Well fellas, here she is now. My little wife, I told you she’d come after me.'”

After the couple divorced in 1975, Jones’s behavior grew more erratic. He began using cocaine and brandishing a gun.

At one point he ventilated his tour bus by emptying a pistol into its floor.

His other nickname, “No-Show Jones,” began circulating nationwide. In 1979 he missed 54 concert dates because he couldn’t put the bottle down.

Jones didn’t mind. He put vanity plates on his cars, “NOSHOW1” to “NOSHOW7.”

As his troubles increased so did his fame.

By 1979 he had moved to Florence, Ala., partly to get away from arrest warrants for nonpayment of child support. He had a girlfriend there from 1975 to 1981, and when they broke up she sued and won a divorce settlement under Alabama’s common-law marriage statutes.

His biggest hit came in 1980, with “He Stopped Loving Her Today.” It reached No. 1 on the country charts. The Country Music Association named it song of the year, and it won the Grammy for best male country performance.

[GEORGE JONES | HE STOPPED LOVING HER TODAY]

This was a resurgence for Jones. He recorded heavily in the early 1980s and married for a fourth time, to Nancy Sepulvedo in 1983, who he stayed with till his death. During this period he gave up the drugs and alcohol and straightened out his business affairs.

By 1988 “New Country” was taking hold, and Jones was relegated to elder statesman status. He was sought out for duets with the younger, more image-conscious performers.

After being inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame in 1992, two years later Jones had triple-bypass surgery. It didn’t slow him much, as he reunited with Wynette that same year to record the album “One.” They toured for two years, and then Wynette died in 1996 at the age of 55.

At this point Jones was performing more than 150 nights a year, but on March 6, 1999, he was critically injured when his SUV crashed into a bridge abutment while talking on his cell phone and changing a cassette tape. He suffered a collapsed lung and ruptured liver. A half-empty bottle of vodka was found in the car.

He bounced back after treatment and recorded “Choices,” in 1999, that won a Grammy for best male country vocal.

[GEORGE JONES | CHOICES]

Jones continued singing well into the 21st Century. In 2008 he was a Kennedy Center honoree, and in 2012 he received a Grammy Award for lifetime achievement.

George Jones lived a rich life. Sure there was plenty of pain and regret, but he played to the strengths he was given, and tried to balance his passions opposite his demons. He didn’t run from any of it or try to hide. He lived it right out there in the open for all of us to see, and you can’t fault a man for that.

R.I.P. GEORGE JONES SEPTEMBER 12, 1931 – APRIL 26, 2013

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Brooks BBQ in Lexington Brings Alabama to the Bluegrass

Posted on April 28, 2013 by theurbanllama

BrooksI’m always on the lookout for “good” barbecue, but it is surprisingly hard to find.

The ramshackle fronts, thick hickory smoke and menus scribbled on chalkboards are telltale signs of a true barbecue joint.

It seems simple enough.

Often the more nondescript a restaurant looks the better the barbecue. Besides the smoke does most of the talking.

This brought me over to Brooks BBQ No. 2 in Lexington, Ky.

This somewhat hidden treasure is located on New Circle Road (East), just past Eastland Parkway. It can be easy to miss things out this way as they get masked behind all the horrible chain restaurants and stores.

Brooks took care of that problem by painting the exterior of the place a burnt Crimson Tide red, with black awnings, and the name emblazoned in white.

It ain’t fancy looking but it jumps out from the crowd, as does their brand of barbecue.

Brooks 3The original Brooks is down in Sheffield, Ala., adjacent to Muscle Shoals, and was founded in 1963. The Brooks family has been smoking meat for a long time and knows a thing or two about making succulent pork, beef and chicken.

The restaurant owners describe their style as “north Alabama,” which fits being Brooks No. 1 is only about 20 miles from the Tennessee border. This style has a pronounced hickory-smoked flavor and what particularly sets it apart from other styles is the traditional basting sauce is mayonnaise-based.

You don’t taste this in the flavor but it tenderizes the meat, giving it a creamy decadence.

I came to try the beef brisket, which is in short supply around here. There is good pulled pork, decent ribs and chicken, but little to no brisket done properly. That’s something more often found throughout the southwest and over in Kansas City.

What Brooks does blows all the competition away. It’s mouthwateringly delicious.

I highly recommend eating their sandwiches the way they intend, in order to get the full taste explosion.

The two things to determine first are size and heat. The sandwiches come in regular or large, and are topped with “Brooks’ special slaw.”

Now in the interest of full disclosure, I’ve never been a big fan of putting cole slaw on top of my barbecue. I’ve always felt that if your ‘cue is good enough it can stand alone, and putting a mess of cole slaw over it just suppresses the flavor. North Carolina is big on putting slaw on its bbq, but it can have beneficial results since they tend to serve pulled pork in a vinegar-based sauce.

Brooks’ special slaw is rough-cut carrots and cabbage, crunchy and dense, not soupy, with a slightly sweet quality and a uniquely orange hue.

I wanted Brooks’ best shot so I went for a jumbo beef sandwich with hot slaw.

The beef brisket.

The beef brisket.

It came out wrapped in wax paper, with a toothpick holding it shut. The sandwich doesn’t appear imposing, but pick that sucker up and it has some weight. Brooks takes their brisket and chops it up into big meaty chunks so it can be piled onto a large hamburger bun. The slaw on top holds everything together.

There are two sauces to choose from if you want your barbecue wet. One is like a spicy ketchup, the other a more yellow mustard color that has a tart vinegar burn. I went with the latter and poured a small container over the top.

I wanted to devour that sandwich without taking a breath, but showed some restraint, and put it down in between bites to savor the flavors.

There is a wonderful smokiness to the beef, thick and substantial, that commingles with the spicy slaw. The two even each other out and create a whole new flavor as one. The sauce just kicks it up a notch and swirls around in every bite.

Barbecue is a sublime pleasure. It’s low-fi comfort food, but there is an art to making it really well. Some people like to compare barbecue to pizza and sex, in that no matter the quality it’s always somewhat good. I beg to differ. Once you know what good barbecue is there’s no reason to touch bad, and there is a lot of that around Kentucky, with that thick, sweet, Kraft-nasty sauce slathered all over it.

Brisket is a more difficult meat to cook than any variety of pork. It distinguishes a restaurant, and Brooks does their barbecue up right.

Pulled pork sandwich with potato salad.

Pulled pork sandwich with potato salad.

Their pulled pork is also delicious, but the brisket is outstanding. Though I enjoyed the pork enough to want to come back and try a rack of the ribs.

As far as sides go, I’ve never troubled myself with them much. I’m one that would rather get two sandwiches and skip the sides honestly. The potato salad was pleasant enough. It comes skin-on and with a creamy dressing. The beans looked good, and the mac n’ cheese is popular.

Next time I might give Brooks’ dessert a try. I saw a lemon pie that looked enticing, and being that I most recently lived in New Orleans, that bread pudding with bourbon sauce sounded mighty fine.

There is plenty of parking available and seating space inside this affordable, no-frills restaurant. Heather waited on me and the service was great and she’s super friendly. Stop by soon to give this family owned and operated joint a try, Brooks BBQ No. 2 will leave you hankering for a return visit.

BROOKS BBQ NO. 2

771 E. New Circle Road | Lexington, KY | 859-523-7529 | Hours: 11-9 Mon.-Sat. | Menu

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Peace Out to Richie Havens

Posted on April 27, 2013 by theurbanllama
A man and his guitar.

A man and his guitar.

In the aftermath of the Boston bombing, the Texas fertilizer plant explosion and the Senate going belly up on passing gun control legislation, it seemed ironic that noted New York City folk singer Richie Havens, who was so closely associated with the idea of freedom, died Monday at the age of 72.

Havens was one of those atmospheric guys, always around the scene providing ambiance, but on the fringe of stardom. It was his performance ability and talent that got him over, more so than his actual chart success.

The man had a soul, a feeling for what was right in a moment, and an energy that transmitted through his music. Seeing Havens perform live brought him legions of fans.

In fact it was one live performance in particular that made him.

Havens was scheduled as the fifth performer on Aug. 15, 1969, the opening day of the Woodstock Music and Art Fair, but the crowd of over 500,000 had jammed the roads leading to Max Yasgur’s farm in Bethel, NY, causing massive traffic delays that left several artists unable to reach the venue.

Havens was a life example of what can happen if a person is prepared and rises to an occasion when opportunity knocks.

Woodstock’s promoters persuaded Havens to take the stage first and buy them some time until other performers could arrive.

You have to think about how weighty that request must have seemed in the moment. Yes Havens was scheduled to play anyway, but nobody was exactly sure how many people were going to show at Woodstock. The sound system was only designed for 150,000 to 200,000 people. When the number far exceeded expectations, with more on the way, the logistical planning fell apart.

Walking out as the first performer in front of 500,000 flower children had to feel a bit like you were being offered up as a Roman sacrifice.

It was impossible to drive over to the performance stage, so Havens and his two band mates had to squeeze into a helicopter with their two guitars and two conga drums for the brief flight over.

“I had the least instruments and the least guys,” Havens explained in a 2008 interview, “and they said ‘Richie, would you go over now?’ I said, ‘Yeah, it’s about time, I’ve been here since 5 in the morning.'”

The three began their standard set shortly after 5:00 PM. Most of the artist playing Woodstock only got 30-minutes. Havens certainly would have fallen into that same time slot, but filled in for two hours, playing multiple encores to give the stranded artists more time.

“Like the trouper he was, he just kept going and going,” said Michael Lang, a co-creator of the Woodstock festival. “He’d get up to leave the stage and we’d send him back. … Finally, drenched with sweat, he gave us the look that this – his sixth or seventh encore – was it.”

Havens was out of songs at this point. He deliberately took extra time tuning his guitar to stall for time and come up with something.

It was on-the-spot that the word “freedom” came to mind.

He told the crowd, “Freedom is what we’re all talking about getting. It’s what we’ve been looking for. I think this is it.”

When he started strumming his guitar the word came out as FREE-dom, FREE-dom, with the emphasis on the front syllable and passion seething on the back. The word by itself became a song.

“My foot takes over and drives my guitar into a faster, more powerful rhythm,” Havens recalled in Lang’s 2009 book The Road to Woodstock. I don’t know where this is going, but it feels right and somehow I find myself blending it into an old song, Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child, a great spiritual my grandmother used to sing to me as a hymn when I was growing up in Brooklyn.”

This ballsy improvisation set the scene for the rest of Woodstock, and remains as one of its signature moments.

For me, as a kid growing up in the 70s and 80s, Woodstock held mythical status. Most of the acts that played Woodstock were still in heavy radio play, but were either dead, past their best days of performing or had broken up.

Unlike today, there really were no music festivals to attend in the 1980s. It was all arena rock, so the idea of getting to see Santana, the Grateful Dead, CCR, Janis Joplin, Sly and the Family Stone, The Who, Jefferson Airplane, Joe Cocker, Ten Years After, The Band, Johnny Winter, Paul Butterfield, CSN&Y and Jimi Hendrix at one event was insane.

I used to daydream about hitchhiking up to those shows when I would catch Woodstock: 3 Days Of Peace & Music at the midnight movies back in high school.

In retrospect it has become apparent that while the lineup at Woodstock was impressive, there were surprisingly few standout performances. Many sets were marred by rain, technical difficulties or disruptions. But Havens’ performance of Freedom endures.

It quickly comes to mind whenever Woodstock is mentioned, and bookends nicely with Jimi Hendrix’s rendition of the Star Spangled Banner, another signature moment, played during his closing set at Woodstock early on a Sunday morning 43-years ago.

May Richie rest easy. He made his mark and will forever be remembered as an ambassador of peace.

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Twin Bombs Rock Boston Marathon – Suspect Captured

Posted on April 25, 2013 by theurbanllama
Police officers react to a second explosion at the finish line of the Boston Marathon. | John Tlumacki Photo

Police officers react to a second explosion at the finish line of the Boston Marathon. | John Tlumacki Photo

Another memorial service.

Another moment of silence to be observed.

At approximately 2:50 PM, on Monday, April 15, two explosions ripped through the finish line area of the Boston Marathon, turning a joyful Patriots’ Day tradition into a crime scene.

Three were killed: Martin Richard, 8, from Dorchester; 29-year old Krystle Campbell of Medford; and Boston University graduate student Lu Lingzi, 23.

More than 260 people were injured.

Early Friday evening, police arrested 19-year old Dzhokhar A. Tsarnaev in connection with the bombings, after a daylong manhunt had completely shut down the city of Boston and several suburbs, leaving one police officer dead.

Authorities spent Tuesday and Wednesday of last week combing through the debris field for bomb fragments and other evidence, in an effort to piece together what occurred.

The bombs were homemade, constructed using pressure cookers, and filled with metal ball bearings, BBs and nails – a recipe easily found in “The Anarchist Cookbook,” or in Al-Qaeda’s internet manuals for terrorist attacks.

Since the bombs were placed near the ground for detonation, many of the injuries involved traumatic amputations below the waist.

Boston 5Medics on-scene for the race were prepared to handle stress fractures and ankle sprains, instead they were suddenly applying tourniquets to lost limbs and staring wide-eyed at legs with nails sticking out of them.

By late Wednesday police had spliced together all the available video footage, and came up with two suspects – one in a white hat and one in a black hat.

With their faces everywhere, the suspects tried to make a run for it Thursday, but ended up in an overnight shootout with police that left Dzhokhar’s 26-year old brother, Tamerlan Tsarnaev dead.

Several improvised explosive devices (IEDs) were detonated during the shootout, and later additional IEDs were discovered in Watertown and in the brothers’ home in Cambridge.

One MIT police officer was killed and another transit police officer was seriously wounded during the violent spree. The younger brother escaped after backing over his dying brother with the vehicle they had carjacked earlier Thursday evening after robbing a convenience store, touching off one of the largest manhunts in U.S. history.

Mass. Gov. Deval Patrick issued a “shelter in place” order, locking down the city of Boston and many surrounding areas from dawn till dusk last Friday.

It was after this order was lifted, around 7:00 PM, when a Watertown resident stepped outside to notice the tarp on his boat was unattached. The homeowner saw blood on the boat, then lifted the tarp to find a bloodied Dzhokhar Tsarnaev inside.

Police apprehended the wounded suspect after a brief shootout, close to where he and his older brother engaged in a gunfight with police nearly 24 hours earlier.

A surveillance photo of the two bombing suspects, l to r, Dzhokhar Tsarnaev and Tamerlan Tsarnaev.

A surveillance photo of the two bombing suspects, l to r, Dzhokhar Tsarnaev and Tamerlan Tsarnaev.

Tsarnaev, originally from Chechnya, was a student at the University of Massachusetts-Dartmouth. His family immigrated to the United States as refugees about 10 years ago.

Tamerlan Tsarnaev studied at a local community college and was a Golden Gloves boxer. He leaves behind a wife and young child. The FBI questioned him two years ago for terrorist ties at the request of a foreign government, but cleared him.

Why these two committed such horrible acts is unknown, but once again America’s innocence and freedom are the casualties.

We apparently have crossed a line in this country. Mass attacks are no longer the exception. They are the norm.

April tends to be a violent month anyway.

Over the past 20-years several extremist incidents have taken place in April: the fiery death of the Branch Davidians in Waco, Texas (Apr. 19, 1993); OK City (Apr. 19, 1995); Columbine (Apr. 20, 1999); and Virginia Tech (Apr. 16, 2007).

Patriots’ Day is a civic holiday in Massachusetts. It falls on the third Monday in April, and commemorates the anniversary of the first battles of the American Revolution that took place on April 19, 1775.

In recent years, Second Amendment activists and anti-government zealots have tried to co-opt April 19 as a symbolic date in their cause.

This stems from the siege in Waco ironically coming to a deadly close on April 19, where 76 Branch Davidians perished. Also, Timothy McVeigh purposely selected 04/19 because it was the Waco anniversary, as the day he detonated a bomb in front of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City, killing 168 people and injuring over 800.

It’s believed Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold intended to carry out the Columbine massacre on April 19 as well but were delayed. Instead it took place on the 20th, which happens to be Adolf Hitler’s birthday.

Boston 4It’s unclear yet why the Boston bombings were committed, but I can’t say that it matters terribly. Whether the Tsarnaev brothers turn out to be Islamist jihadists, right-wing radicals, Chechen freedom fighters, or pissed off Bostonians, no excuse is going to make this occurrence any more comforting.

One thing this incident showed is that if any interested parties want to hit soft targets, there is little to prevent it.

If we start seeing bombs exploding where people congregate, like at movie theaters, the grocery, or high school football games, freedom evaporates.

I lived in Washington, DC during the Beltway sniper attacks. That was a hell of a feeling to have to worry about being shot while crossing a street or filling a car up with gas. The same would be true if Walmarts started indiscriminately blowing up. It would fill the country with uncertainty.

For law enforcement, there is nothing scarier than dealing with a subject who is prepared to die.

Tamerlan Tsarnaev was wearing a suicide bomb vest when he was killed by authorities. We have to assume that he intended to detonate that vest if he had reached the police who were engaging him in a firefight.

This level of mission-ready planning is new for this country. The preparation, munitions, disregard of authority, and willingness to murder police officers is more often seen south of our borders where drug cartels operate.

It’s also a level of behavior seen by our military on a daily basis in Iraq and Afghanistan.

One thing I would like to see come out of this tragedy, is perhaps our nation will better appreciate what our troops have to deal with while fighting in the Middle East.

People getting on a bus or stepping inside a grocery to grab an item or two and… Boom!

Boston Marathon | Photo by Bill Hoenk.

Boston Marathon | Photo by Bill Hoenk.

Women, children, dead babies, and body parts strewn everywhere.

In The New York Times on April 16, it was reported that there were 20 attacks around Iraq on Monday alone that killed close to 50 people and wounded nearly 200.

Homemade bombs blew up two schools that were to serve as polling places.

Hell only half our country goes to the trouble to vote already. Can you imagine if we had to worrying about getting blown up when going to the ballot box?

We often fail to sufficiently appreciate the barbaric violence war-torn countries deal with on a daily basis. Now America is getting a taste.

The question is, was Boston the beginning of a new level of guerrilla terrorism in America?

Boston 3Something else Boston revealed is that privacy is a diminishing commodity in this country. We have not yet reached the oppressive level of governmental surveillance described by George Orwell in “1984,” but we’re getting there.

The funny thing is a sizeable portion of our privacy we have chosen to serve up voluntarily. Through Twitter, texting and Facebook, people leave a surprisingly detailed digital trail about their lives.

A precedent is being set, whereby people have lowered the expectation of privacy, and begun to be more comfortable living their lives in a virtual public arena.

After 9/11, New York’s police department instituted a citywide camera system that is unprecedented.

In Boston we saw a decentralized version of the same thing, whereby authorities were able to track the suspects’ movements by splicing together footage from individual stores.

I would expect after this bombing several cities will allocate state and federal money to install greater citywide surveillance networks in the name of national security.

This sounds like a plausible response on the surface, but it does beg the question of what is done with this footage and where is it archived?

Is it being run through a massive NSA computer database?

I don’t know what applicable use it might have, but there is information to be gleaned about society as a whole from this mundane footage. It might be an unintended consequence of these cameras, but that shouldn’t be the government’s purview.

You combine this enhanced video surveillance with a lower expectation of privacy, and all it takes is the right terrorist incident for the government to suspend habeas corpus once again and allow all sorts of civil rights violations under the guise of the Patriot Act.

By no means am I taking any of the blame away from the terrorists for their cowardly behavior, but with each passing incident there is a corollary response from the government that boils down to the “Land of the Free” getting a little less free.

The great Bill Rodgers, four time winner of Boston and New York, who gave me some tips for running Boston while injured.

The great Bill Rodgers, four time winner of Boston and New York, who gave me some tips for running Boston while injured.

Now before I get out of here, I would be remiss if I didn’t specifically mention the impact the Boston bombing had upon the world’s oldest annual marathon, dating to 1897, and to those who run it.

Distance runners are a quirky bunch. They are regimented, determined and can deal with a high threshold of pain for long periods of time.

That’s what running is, pain control amidst the meditation that comes with covering long distances.

I ran the Boston Marathon once, the 100th running in 1996. It was the apex of my athletic endeavors.

I’m not sure if people realize it or not, but you can’t just sign up and pay a fee to run Boston. You have to qualify in a sanctioned marathon that same year and post a specified finish time based upon age and gender.

This means Boston isn’t full of a bunch of first time runners struggling to cover the distance. It boasts the best public running field in the country.

While there is a definite international flair to this race, it maintains a distinctly local feel.

People come back to this tradition year after year, bringing along friends and family. There is no degree of separation between the runners and those attending. Basically everybody there either has run this race or knows someone running.

The crowd understands the pain each runner is enduring, so they cheer with vigor, like only those who live in a great sports town like Boston can, to help lift the participants so they will forget the anguish until they cross the finish line.

That last 1/2-mile after turning onto Boylston Street is a straight adrenaline rush. It’s a celebration, as tens of thousands are there to let each participant know it’s almost over, good job, now finish strong.

This is the only moment I actually wished the race had lasted a little longer.

My Boston finisher's medal | Boston Proud | Boston Strong

My Boston finisher’s medal | Boston Proud | Boston Strong

I was injured coming into my Boston Marathon, having strained tendons in my qualifying race. But that crowd lifted me up with their voices and well wishes and carried me home.

I gutted out a 4:29:55 finish, which is 80-minutes slower than my qualifier, but the crowd, the history and the competition at Boston elicit that kind of inspiring effort.

My hat is off to all those entrants who put forth this same level of commitment, but were prevented from finishing.

I will close simply by saying I’m sorry to all those who were killed and injured, to their families and to the city of Boston.

Blowing up this race was like blowing up a family picnic.

It’s not something that will ever be forgotten.

But as President Obama indicated at the interfaith memorial service for the victims, “Boston, you will run again.”

Let’s huddle up as a nation and heal, then get back out there to fight so this doesn’t happen again.

America needs to regain its compassion for those living within her shores, and stop all this partisan political bickering, otherwise these separatist acts of violence will only get worse.

We have a wealth and education gap that is rapidly leaving citizens disenfranchised. We need to balance our budget and get back to making America a better place for all of us instead of only for the top 1 percent.

All this squabbling over guns, religion and abortion is ridiculous. People need to mind their own business, stop worrying about what is going on in other households, and stop meddling in the business of other countries.

This necessitates that we find a way to become energy independent.

We still have a chance to fix this, but it is a bit like global warming, we are getting close to the point of no return. America has come through so much. It would be criminal to give up on the future of what this country promises.

Posted in Events, Exercise, News | Tagged , , , , | 1 Comment

A Sad Day in Boston

Posted on April 23, 2013 by theurbanllama

Normally I don’t post other columnists’ material here, but the tragedy in Boston is an extraordinary circumstance. Perhaps we should all take a moment to pause and consider what is happening in this country.

Boston is one of those unique towns that is full of local flavor. There are over a million people in its metro area, but it remains a cliquish city, segmented by neighborhoods. It’s impossible for visitors or well-wishers to fully comprehend what the attack on this community and one of its cherished events really means.

I’ve been there several times, seen games at Fenway, dined at Union Oyster House, even ran the Boston Marathon once, but can only guess at the pain and anger residents must feel as a result of the violence this past week.

That’s why I wanted to post this column from the Boston Globe’s Dan Shaughnessy. He went to college at Holy Cross in Worcester, Mass., and has been a sports writer at the Globe for over 30-years. Dan has a great feel for what it means to be from Boston.

Please check it out.

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THE BOSTON GLOBE | BY: DAN SHAUGHNESSY | APRIL 16, 2013

A police officer carries a wounded child from the scene of the second blast near the finish line of the Boston Marathon. | Photo by Bill Hoenk.

A police officer rescues a wounded child after the explosions at the finish line of the Boston Marathon. | Bill Hoenk photo

You live here, so you got the calls. And the texts. And the e-mails.

Are you safe? Are you OK? Were you there? Is everybody in your family all right?

This was one of those days when you found out how many great friends you have. Worldwide, word spread that Boston — the Boston Marathon — was under attack, and folks from other corners of the country and the world reached out to find out how you and your family were doing.

More end to more innocence. One of our best days is forever tainted. The 117-year-old Boston Marathon will never be the same. The journey from Hopkinton to Boylston Street is now a 26.2-mile stretch of yellow police tape. Do not cross.

Somebody (or some group) bombed the Boston Marathon. Cowards attacked innocent men, women, and children on Patriots Day. At least three people were killed, including an 8-year-old boy.

And there goes another piece of our freedom, another sacred and oh-so-local institution.

We honor some sweet and goofy things here in Greater Boston. Brave hearts swim in the ocean on New Year’s Day. In mid-February, local TV crews gather on Van Ness Street outside Fenway Park to watch the Red Sox equipment truck leave for Florida. Families stake out space on the Esplanade on the Fourth of July, and U-Hauls clog Commonwealth and Huntington avenues on Labor Day weekend.

Patriots Day is a sacred part of that tradition.

It’s an only-in-Boston thing. A reenactment of the Battle of Lexington. No school. No work. A Major League Baseball game that starts at the hideous hour of 11 a.m. Thousands of people lining the backroads and major avenues that lead into Boston from points west.

This is the day of Boston Billy Rodgers and Alberto Salazar and Johnny Kelly and Amby Burfoot and Joan Benoit Samuelson and even Rosie Ruiz. It’s about Clarence DeMar and Uta Pippig and the Hoyts and the Eliot Lounge and Heartbreak Hill. It’s about Wellesley girls, Kathrine Switzer, Jock Semple, and Will Cloney. It’s about Jack Fultz running in 96-degree heat, winning the “Run for the Hoses” in 1976.

President Barack Obama said it’s “a day that draws the world to Boston’s streets in a spirit of friendly competition.’’

Amen. The whole world is watching Boston on Patriots Day. We are truly global, the Hub of the running universe.

So this was a good place to make a statement, and now our quaint little event will never be the same.

We won’t be able to walk into Trinity Church or the Boston Public Library without thinking about the day the bombs went off. We won’t be able to step into the Lenox Hotel — where Red Auerbach lived when he coached the Celtics — without thinking about spectators being maimed. We will forever remember the day nobody could call anybody on a cellphone in Copley Square.

Everybody will have a story.

Sherrie Kaplan lives in Newport Beach, Calif., is 64 years old, and has run 17 marathons. This was her sixth Boston Marathon and she was running for the Dana-Farber Marathon Challenge team. Like most people on the course after 3 p.m., she had no knowledge of the bombs as she ran toward Kenmore Square. She ran 25.5 miles before she was intercepted by her son and my two daughters. She had to stop. And get out. My daughter called me from a pay phone and I was able to drive into Boston University to get them home.

Back at home, we were visited by a young man who grew up across the street. Kevin Fauteux, 33, was on Boylston Street in front of the Mandarin Oriental Hotel when the second bomb exploded. He was struck in his left knee by a flying piece of hatred.

“We were there to watch some friends finish,’’ he said. “The first one sounded like those muskets they shoot at Gillette when the Patriots score. The second one was right near us. It was a yard sale of people and body parts. The force of it blew human beings and baby carriages across the street. People were trying to finish the race.

“It was just chaos. We were lying on our bellies on Boylston Street. The most impressive thing I saw was the doctors and nurses racing to the victims.’’

There was a hole in his jeans, just below his left knee.

“Shrapnel,” he said, lifting his pant leg to expose a small wound. “I have to go to the hospital tomorrow.’’

So Marathon Day 2013 goes down as the day my neighbor’s son sat in my family room wearing jeans with a hole near the left knee from a bomb that went off while he stood near the finish line.

A dark day. A day that took away more fun, more innocence, more freedom.

Dan Shaughnessy is a Globe columnist. He can be reached at

dshaughnessy@globe.com.

THE ONE FUND | BOSTON | 2013

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Isabella’s First Birthday

Posted on April 19, 2013 by theurbanllama
Cake Monster!

A Cake Monster is loose in Louisville.

Before the bombings in Boston Monday, before the ricin letters were mailed in Washington, or the fertilizer plant blew in West, Texas, my family and I shared a simpler moment, when we gathered to celebrate my daughter Isabella’s first birthday last week.

I’m a first time dad, and an older, apprehensive one at that.

Every day brings a new chapter, and lord knows I’ve made too many parenting mistakes this year to count, but it has been amazing to watch this baby girl grow, and see me grow as I try to become a better father.

"Presents are fun, and they taste good..."

“Presents are fun, and they taste good…”

Isabella was something of a surprise. I’m still processing everything that led to her being here in my arms.

I used to run around New Orleans with my hair on fire, covering night life and participating in all that the Crescent City had to offer. No doubt I miss that at times. I miss the people who were important to me in that life, but I’m surrounded by some wonderful people now as well, and I can’t imagine life without Isabella in it.

My before-baby life and after both contain positives and negatives, but having this little girl who relies upon me for everything is enriching and rewarding in a way I had not previously experienced.

The birthday girl hanging with grandpa.

The birthday girl hanging with grandpa.

The happiest moment of my day, every day, is when I walk into the bedroom and Isabella is just beginning to stir. She pops her tiny head up off the pillow and gets the biggest smile on her face when she sees me peeking around the corner.

She raises her tiny arm and opens her hand wide as if to say, “I see you daddy, come and get me up.”

It melts my heart every time.

And when you see some of the terrible things happening in the world, it’s kind of nice to be surrounded by baby toys that play nursery rhymes.

I’m OK getting down on the ground with her and putting letter blocks into the Alphabet Train.

There is a level of comfort that comes with that kind of innocence.

At Louisville victory rally Wednesday.

At Louisville’s victory rally Wednesday.

I’m taking the time to appreciate each of these days, as it will not be long before I can’t just hand her the crinkly wrapper from my power bar and that will suffice as a toy.

It all will get more complicated as she grows and the outside world intrudes upon her innocence…

But not on this day. Not just yet.

Cake is good.

In Frankfort and looking good.

Peanut’s actual birthday was last Wednesday, April 10, which happened to fall upon the victory rally for the NCAA Champion Louisville Cardinals.

That was quite a birthday party; lots of red-clad revelers, loud music, cheering, and even fountains to splash through.

[LOUISVILLE VICTORY RALLY]

Though festive, Peanut’s real party came on the weekend in two parts.

Saturday we celebrated at our place with my parents and my buddy Matt. It was nothing crazy, a couple presents, we sang “Happy Birthday,” and Isabella managed to drench herself in ice cream cake.

It seemed like a solid birthday. Matt was kind enough to bring a singing purple dinosaur into our house as a gift. Now I hear those songs in my sleep. Thank you very much!

More cake mom!

More cake mom!

Then Sunday we birthdayed in Louisville with Maia’s side of the family at Isabella’s aunt and uncle’s house.

This was a joint party as it also was Dennis and Gil’s youngest daughter, Carson’s birthday. They had all just returned from Europe, so both guests of honor were stretching their birthday celebrations.

It also meant more cake and ice cream. Actually very tasty cake (Thanks Gil!).

WooHoo, It's present time in Louisville!

WooHoo, It’s present time in Louisville!

So life has finally started to settle back to normal. No more March Madness to follow, spring break is over for the brothers, and the big birthday is past.

My baby, whether I call her Isabella, Peanut or Waffles, is growing up.

She’s tottering around, holding onto the edges of the couch or whatever else to keep her upright. She’ll be popping up and walking anytime now.

And her noises are starting to become organized and make sense, or I’ve been drinking too much again. Hard to say.

Very soon she’ll blurt out a hello or something else epic.

Jacy styling in Isabella's new dress.

Jacy styling in Isabella’s new dress.

It has been a crazy fast year. She was this tiny peanut last April, now she’s up and romping. I can only imagine what this year will bring.

Can’t wait.

Thanks Maia for being such an amazing person and parent. I’m learning. No matter what, we did make an incredible baby.

Love you!

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LEGO KIDS FEST Invades Kentucky Exposition Center

Posted on April 18, 2013 by theurbanllama
Boba Fett in da House!

Boba Fett in da House!

The other cool thing we did to close out the boys’ spring break was hit LEGO Kids Fest in Louisville.

Most all of us, if not everyone, has played with LEGOs at some point. If you haven’t seen them in a while, they’ve come a long way baby.

These interlocking construction blocks have always held magic.

I still recall coming home from seeing the first “Star Wars” movie as a kid, and heading straight to my LEGO collection to attempt building something resembling Luke Skywalker’s landspeeder.

That’s always been the beauty of LEGOs – it doesn’t matter if you have exactly the parts necessary, the ability is there to make something close enough.

LEGOs trigger the imagination.

The wizard Gandalf was present to help lead Louisville to a championship.

The wizard Gandalf was present to help guide Louisville to a championship.

These days less creativity is required, as LEGO designers have taken it upon themselves to fashion the necessary parts needed to build everything from “Pirates of the Caribbean” or “Lord of the Rings.”

Maia deserves all the credit for scouting this event. I figured it would be cool, LEGO doesn’t do lame – but was concerned it would be overrun with screaming children. It really wasn’t bad.

It got us out of the house and was an opportunity to see this bastion of kiddom blown out to epic proportions. Plus, we went on Sunday, April 7, so this was the night after Louisville beat Wichita State in the Final Four to make the championship game.

That weekend had already been full of stressful basketball games. This was a great excuse check out something totally non-sports related and get our collective minds off the possibility of Louisville winning a championship that was still 35-hours away.

Kids Fest began Friday with one showing, there were two on Saturday, and we did the morning showing on Sunday, which began at 9:00 AM, but we didn’t get there until about 11:00. This gave us two and a half hours. They clear the whole place out after that.

The Caped Crusader.

The Caped Crusader.

With LEGOs there will be a mess. So they clean up and reset the workshops and building stations, then there was an afternoon viewing beginning at 3:00 PM.

The tone was set from the moment visitors enter the exhibit hall, as numerous famous movie characters from blockbuster films are constructed in full-size regale, which are beyond the scope of contemplation.

Batman immediately grabbed my attention, as he was perched menacingly atop the corner of a brick building, standing upon a LEGO gargoyle.

All the hobbits were present, along with Gandalf. In fact, there was an entire Bag End lair constructed to hobbit scale.

Harry Potter was well represented, and Captain Jack Sparrow. The shark from “Finding Nemo,” was there with mouth open so you could pose inside his jaws. King Tut’s sarcophagus was built upright, with a cutout where the face goes so people could be photographed.

Darth Maul.

Darth Maul.

Woody and Buzz were hanging around from “Toy Story,” the Lightning McQueen vehicle from “Cars” was built, and LEGO ninjas guarded the dining area.

Still it was “Star Wars” that made the biggest impression. Darth Vader, Boba Fett, a huge Chewbacca, Darth Maul, storm troopers – it was pretty bad ass.

After making it through this barrage of photo opportunities there were presentations going on all around, with LEGO reps on wireless microphones.

A friend had suggested we head immediately upon arrival to LEGO Legends of Chima, as this was very popular and lines could be long.

I guess there is a television series and video game on Chima, where different animal tribes exist, and they battle each other over a powerful natural resource called Chi.

Laval, prince of the Lion Tribe in Chima.

Laval, prince of the Lion Tribe in Chima.

Kids could practice before entering the arena of battle, then they chose their tribe and had a timed exercise in building speedorz to compete against other tribes.

The best part was each participant received a new Chima playset as they left the demonstration.

There were various stations throughout the concourse where kids and adults could duck inside and build away.

Hero Factory was seeking champions or villains; Monster Fighters needed creatures devised; Galaxy Squad was a festival of aliens; and a race track was open to test speed against whatever could be assembled on wheels.

A big attention getter was the LEGO Activity Area, where bridge pillars were already constructed, and kids worked together to build a stable span across the divide.

Isabella finding plenty to chew on in the LEGO pile.

Isabella finding plenty to chew on in the LEGO pile.

This also was a timed exercise, and once expired a LEGO rep would come out to publicly demonstrate the structural integrity of each bridge.

This was done by stacking 5 and 10-pound weights on the center of each bridge until they collapsed, making a rather loud crash each time, which echoed throughout the concourse.

The record was set Sunday at 135 pounds.

Another “can’t miss” was the ridiculous Big Brick Pile.

Imagine a dump truck full of LEGO blocks spilling its payload on the floor. That’s what this was – a sea of loose LEGOs.

Adults were making snow angels and children were being buried up to their necks. It was totally ridiculous. You’d need shovels to clean this disaster up, but it mattered not.

The Lego Nation.

The Lego Nation, (Our skyscraper is furthest back, left of the white tower).

The part that ended up being the biggest fun for us was Creation Nation.

Here they segmented off a portion of the exhibit hall that represented the United States, and over the event’s three days, anyone could come by and construct a building, and staff would place it into whatever state the builder requested.

Slowly a nation was erected.

The four of us set about to make a skyscraper.

There were various building stations with buckets of LEGOs. We put some base plates together for the foundation, then brainstormed on a design that could hold a four-foot tower.

We spent an hour or more running around to different tables looking for random blocks, and took turns assembling pieces and adding stories.

Our monument to LEGO Nation.

Our monument to LEGO Nation.

The session ended as we put the roof on, complete with flags, and we dropped in two terrace-level lounge areas, where our imaginary tenants could relax.

It was a sweet edifice. We opted to place it in Iowa, which sort of blended with Chicago, so our addition went opposite the jet black Sears Tower.

That was a blast to do with the kids and Maia, and the baby pretty much slept through the whole thing.

I don’t think our session was as crowded as some. LEGO spokeswoman Ellen Puelo said the event drew more than 30,000 people, selling out Friday and Saturday.

Afterwards we drove into downtown so I could try and find a “Win It for Ware” t-shirt, but only XXL and XXXL were left. No worries, Maia found me a red one on Monday before the game.

Then we headed over to Germantown for lunch at Check’s.

All that marching around and building new LEGO worlds had given us quite the appetite.

Nothing like an oyster roll and double cheeseburger to tame a savage hunger.

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The Cincinnati Zoo is Purrrfectly Entertaining

Posted on April 16, 2013 by theurbanllama
Malayan Tigers at the Cincinnati Zoo.

Malayan Tigers at the Cincinnati Zoo.

Coming into the third week of a three-week spring break, the boys and I, and the baby, needed some fresh air. The weather hadn’t been the most cooperative, as temps remained chilly and didn’t inspire much outdoor activity.

The first week had been fine, as Gabriel, 10, and Jacy, 8, both blew down from all the school stress and were content to remain in pajamas all day and play Minecraft.

Previously they were relegated to playing the free version that came on Maia’s iPhone, but Gabe had received the full version as a birthday present a couple weeks back, so both boys were enjoying the advanced features they could utilize on Maia’s computer.

Left to their own demise, they would happily sit around all day and night building block cities and fighting creepers.

They also shared a Nook device, so one could watch YouTube videos on Minecraft as the other played. This was helpful as we got into the second week of spring break, because each started picking on the other.

By the third week they had thoroughly mutated their sleeping schedules, staying up till 4:00 AM gaming and sleeping till noon.

It’s good stuff no doubt, but we all had cabin fever, and the boys (or smelly toads as I refer to them), were waking up daily ready to agitate each other.

Waffles and dad at the zoo.

Waffles and dad at the zoo.

Meanwhile Waffles (Isabella), who wasn’t yet 1-year old, and I, were doing our thing – but for me it was near impossible to write or research much with three kids running amok.

I might as well get outside.

So on Tuesday of the third week we loaded up the car, Maia took a personal day, and the five of us headed 90-miles north to the Cincinnati Zoo.

We didn’t get there till around 2:00 PM. This whole transporting babies and kids ordeal is no joke – it takes logistics. Maybe I should get UPS to help us out…

We hoped to arrive earlier, but why rush. We still had three hours, which was fine.

The Cincinnati Zoo and Botanical Garden is one of the oldest zoos in the United States, dating to 1875, with its Reptile House being the oldest zoo building in America.

This was really the first decent day in three weeks; still chilly, but easily jacket weather.

Taking the zoo train.

Taking the zoo train.

Since time was an issue, we headed straight for the train ride. It’s a mini-choo choo kind of deal, and was Isabella’s first voyage on the rails. She lit up as we hopped aboard.

The ride isn’t that far. It takes you around the center of the park and over Swan Lake, but all the crossing gates closing and train whistles make it fun for kids.

After disembarking, Maia and I pulled out the map and made a hasty plan. There was no way we would be able to see everything, so we needed to limit any unnecessary backtracking.

The idea was to hit the three basics of lions, tigers and bears, of all varieties (snow leopards, polar bears, cheetahs and the like); then the water critters, like manatees; and the monkeys. Those were all must-sees.

It was still early in the season so several animals were hanging inside instead of out in their natural habitats.

Jacy about to be consumed by a manatee.

Jacy about to be consumed by a manatee.

The polar bear was totally zonked, lying out in the sun absorbing some rays. I don’t think he was moving even for an earthquake.

The white lions were regal and composed, taking in the scene and bothered by little.

We dodged into Manatee Springs, which is a huge indoor aquarium where these ginormous creatures can be observed below the surface through glass as they eat and swim.

Considering their size, they give off this utterly peaceful vibe, befitting the title of “sea cow.” Something about their forlorn look makes them disarming and huggable. They would literally pose with you, and appeared to be between 10-13 feet long. Very cool.

There was Lemur Lookout and Gorilla World, Wings of Wonder and Night Hunters. We saw snakes and spiders, turtles and crocs. Cat Canyon was a big hit. The cougar was menacing, the snow leopard was gorgeous and the white tigers appeared extremely bored. Pretty, but bored.

Zoo 4I volunteered to throw Jacy in to see if he could make it to the other side before the tigers took notice.

He said he was fast – but I guess that is considered bad parenting…

The biggest hit of the day was the penguins, partly because of movies like “Mr. Popper’s Penguins,” “Madagascar” and “March of the Penguins,” but also because they are such amusing and well-dressed creatures.

The habitat in Cincinnati is partially above water and partially below, which Isabella loved.

She could crawl up to the tank, and look in on the swooping penguins as they made their dives. She makes this growling noise these days when she’s really happy, and was doing a lot of that as she slapped the tank with her paw.

Watch that horn cowboy!

Watch that horn cowboy!

We sprinted past a few more exhibits on our way out, but three hours went by rather fast. We saw our highlights, but totally missed the elephants and giraffes, OH MY!

By the time we reached the car we had three tired critters. Waffles and the two toads peacefully loaded into the vehicle for the journey home.

To top it off, we ventured over to Price Hill Chili for snacks afterwards. I had been trying to give this joint a try for years, and it was worth the wait, excellent chili and cheeseburgers!

A trip to the zoo and top-flight junk food, now that was a field trip I could get behind.

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Louisville Celebrates Championship with Victory Rally at Yum! Center

Posted on April 14, 2013 by theurbanllama
Championship hardware lines the stage at the Yum! Center Wednesday.

Championship hardware lines the stage at the Yum! Center Wednesday.

Wednesday was a day to celebrate in Louisville.

The U of L men’s basketball team returned from Atlanta with a national championship in tow, and the Lady Cardinals were national runners-up.

What better way to celebrate both teams’ accomplishments than to throw a big ‘ole house party at the KFC Yum! Center located in downtown Louisville.

Word leaked Tuesday night, before the Lady Cards’ game against UConn in New Orleans, that season ticket holders would get first dibs for this 5:00 PM event. Any remaining tickets were going to get cut loose to the public on Wednesday at 2:00 PM.

The event was free of charge, but required a reserved seat ticket, four tickets per person, which could only be obtained from the box office at the Yum! Center.

This meant waiting in line.

Maia and I talked about it, and thought it would be a cool event to take the boys to – it’s cultural in a strange sort of way, and a chance for us to be in the same room with all these athletes we’ve been watching so closely on television for the last month.

The question was how painful would it be to get tickets.

I wouldn’t have even tried this if it had been for the University of Kentucky, but Louisville fans aren’t so militant. I figured since this was hastily prepared, and in the middle of a workday, there was a chance we could score some seats.

Maia works down the street from Yum!, so I called her around 11:00 to see if she could check the line situation.

Actually, there were only around 50 people there, so she grabbed a spot and started telecommuting with her iPhone.

Meanwhile, as luck would have it, Wednesday, April 10th happened to be our baby Isabella’s birthday, so we thought how fun would it be to blow out your 1st birthday with the Louisville Cardinals at the Yum Center?!?

I pulled her brothers out of school at 1:00 and we hit the road for the hour drive west from Frankfort.

By this time, the box office line had grown considerably, stretching around city blocks. At 2:00 p.m., the tickets were cut loose and Maia scored seats in the 200 section.

We picked her up from work and headed down to W. Broadway. We had found some great game t-shirts out this way, designed locally and printed for a fraction of the cost to those in retail outlets.

On this day everybody had a smile, and all the t-shirt vendors were doing a brisk business. One had a spot under the eaves of Liquor Zone, another was run out of a back of a van, and multiple tables were strung together outside a check cashing joint.

Folks wearing red could be seen running back and forth across Broadway, clutching newly bought red championship shirts in both hands.

Heading back towards downtown I noticed some guys had cranked up several large black smokers at the One Stop Auto Repair & AUTO SALES joint. Cars were being serviced in the front and barbecue was being smoked out back.

I drove past once, but when I smelled that sweet hickory aroma, I stopped the car and turned around. This was definitely the spot for lunch today.

The ribs weren’t going to be done for another hour or so, but the hot sausages were up. That would do for $3. It was nearly as plump as my forearm, and came served on a hotdog roll with BBQ sauce. It was juicy, spicy and full of smoky goodness.

YumAbout the time I reached the last bite we were pulling into the arena garage.

This was my first time visiting the Yum! Center since it opened in 2010. It’s a gorgeous facility, getting plenty of natural light through its glass panelling,  and smoothly disperses lobby crowds by using multi-level escalators.

The interior designers did a fantastic job of showcasing the history of Louisville athletics, and other significant city figures, using red-accented banners that billow through the concourses to occupy the eyes of those heading to their seats.

Inside the arena it was a sea of red. The pep band was playing and the lights were flashing.

Feeling juiced as we headed for our seats.

Feeling juiced as we headed to our seats.

It took on a club-like atmosphere, as Louisville’s public address announcer introduced the Lady Cardinals. Shoni Schimmel, who came out last, garnered the loudest admiration.

Then cheers of “LUUUUKE” and “SIVA” began to rise, as the men’s team stepped up.

Still the largest response came when head coach Rick Pitino was announced.

For the Louisville faithful this was a chance to say thanks, and to revel in having a championship of their own, as many were not alive 27-years ago when the Cardinals last won a title.

Standing on stage before the two teams and all their newly won trophies, university president James Ramsey rhetorically asked the assembled crowd, “Is it a pretty good time to be a University of Louisville Cardinal?”

Isabella digging her birthday party.

Isabella digging her birthday party.

It certainly is, particularly when you consider the Louisville football team also upset Florida to win the Sugar Bowl in January.

The architect of this success was athletic director Tom Jurich, who thanked all the fans for their support, especially during the men’s first round games in Lexington at Rupp Arena, home of the Kentucky Wildcats, when they turned the place “completely red.”

The crowd of over 20,000 was treated to inspiring words from Schimmel, Final Four MVP Luke Hancock, senior guard Peyton Siva, and national inspiration Kevin Ware, who had his leg broken in the regional finals against Duke.

The emcee was trying to move forward with the program, but the crowd started chanting, “We Want Russ, We Want Russ.”

Smith thanked the fans who didn’t give up on the team after they lost in last year’s Final Four, and for sticking by them during the three-game losing streak this season and the five-overtime loss at Notre Dame.

Now if he would just stay for one more year – but not likely.

Then the crowd summoned junior center Gorgui Dieng, with cheers of Gor-Gui, Gor-Gui!

Dieng also most likely will be heading to the NBA, and said  in parting, “I love the school, the city and especially the fans.”

Coach Pitino thanking the fans.

Louisville Head Coach Rick Pitino thanking the fans.

The crowd was in a frenzy by the time Coach Pitino took the microphone. Whether he had slept any since Monday or not, Pitino looked amazing. He had on a crisp white shirt, open collar, a dark tailored suit and white handkerchief – it was classic Pitino.

Of course after the announcement Monday of his future enshrinement, he could now be introduced as “Hall of Fame” coach Rick Pitino, which brought the house down.

Pitino’s voice was gone, but he took a deferential and humble tone regardless.

He thanked the women’s team for their accomplishments, and highlighted the significance of their upset of top ranked Baylor, citing it as above Houston snapping UCLA’s 47-game winning streak in 1968.

His tone was that of a man who has come a long way since being signed as a brash coach at the University of Kentucky in 1989.

He won a title for the Wildcats, but lost one too, and made that horrible coaching blunder in the 1992 regional final, allowing Christian Laettner to hit that infamous last second winning shot.

He opted to return to the NBA and had a disastrous run with the Boston Celtics; lost one brother-in-law to 9/11, and another was struck and killed by a New York taxi cab; there was the embarrassment of a sex scandal with Karen Cunagin Sypher, and her attempted extortion, forcing a FBI investigation and subsequent trial.

It has been a long road since 1989. Pitino has survived all that turmoil while living a public life, but you could hear the wear and tear in his voice.

What really cranked the heat up under Pitino was Kentucky hiring John Calipari. Whether you like Calipari’s one-and-done philosophy or not, he went Final 8, Final Four, national title in his first three years.

Fun in the fountains outside Yum.

Fun in the fountains outside Yum.

Pitino and Louisville needed this title, and the win was all the sweeter as it came during a season in which Kentucky failed to even qualify for the tournament.

The 90 minute presentation closed with an encore showing of “One Shining Moment.” Only this time there were 20,000 Louisville fans there to cheer along.

I’m not sure what the boys made of this whole event. They’re still figuring out sports and the nature of the bizarre college basketball rivalry within Kentucky.

Peyton Siva's dad, who is a local celebrity of sorts posed for a photo with Gabriel, Jacy and Maia.

Peyton Siva’s dad, who is a local celebrity of sorts posed for a photo with Gabriel, Jacy and Maia.

They had fun, but are of the video age, and even though the players were in the gym, they watched most of the event on the jumbo screen – it was like virtually live for them.

Although you could tell they were really loving the aspect that they could scream their heads off and no one told them to quiet down.

Isabella was most taken with all the festivities being provided for her birthday, and thanked everybody for coming.

What I found amusing was that out of all the cool stuff we did Wednesday, the biggest fun was had after the official festivities concluded, when all the kids poured outside of the Yum! Center and jumped into the fountains.

As usual it’s the simple things in life that are most satisfying – like winning a national championship.

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