bierkergaard

I am not sure when I developed a taste for coffee. Sometimes in my 30's. I wasn't that discriminating in my taste and also was primarily drinking it to fuel my work-outs. It took awhile to figure out that I shouldn't drink it late afternoon as well as to appreciate coffee for more than just an adrenaline booster shot.  Now I am firmly in the clique of coffee snobs. Almost as insufferable as wine snobs.  My Dad likes to remind me at times of my judging him and others for drinking coffee and getting jacked on Joe as a moral failing. I was high-horsey with beer and coffee for a pretty long period of early adulthood.  Then, I turned to the dark side. I fell hard. Especially espresso.  So..... Friday morning was another Comp Day off of school. It was rainy and cool. Not a good day to skateboard or other outside activities. Thus, I decided to adventure over to Rustic Cup, a new coffee shop in downtown East Prospect. Not that there is really a downtown ...

S o the young person went into life. Yet the path that stretches before him is long and the world will probably be difficult for him at times. If he does not enlist the help of patience now, then all his strife and struggle will be of little value to him. Soren Kierkegaard I read Soren every Saturday morning. I call it "Saturday Morning with Soren K." The most recent essay is on patience, an exposition on Luke 21:19 (In your patience you shall possess your souls). It take patience to read Kierkegaard. When I first bought the book Eighteen Upbuilding Discourses 15 or so years ago, I had tried to read it. I put it down. Now, I can read it, even several pages at a time. I suppose the Ph.D. made my mind more able to plow through the thickets.  A lack of patience indeed is the root of some of what is wrong with the world. Get rich quick schemes, fornication (premarital sex), obesity, all have the feature "I want it now", consequences be damned. Esau is hungry...

I had a Comp Day off of school Friday. I decided to head off to the local skateboarding park and ride. It was one of those stellar Pennsylvania days. Cool in the low 60's and sunny, my made-to-order day. I figured that the kids would be in school, or at least should be. And wouldn't be skating publically out in the open, playing hooky. I wanted to work on my skills without a crowd around. I skated for almost two hours. Exhausted at the end, and full of joy. It was fun. It is one of the ironies of life that we all wanted to grow up so quick and be an adult. Then, we become adults and  wish we could go back. Life is like one of those parking lots where you pull in but can only go forward. So, skateboarding is the resumption of youth in spirit and not chronology. I examined the regs of the sign at the skatepark. No mention of plus 50 men being forbidden to ride. I was good.   One cool  thing about getting older is that I care less about what people think about me....

The above are the paper remnants of my three day jaunt to L.A. The paper will pass into decay, the words, meaning, and purpose? Eternal. One of the most vexing realities for writers is thinking he has come up with something new and it has been written before. "To live and write in L.A." came to me while I was in the middle of consuming my second cup of poured Ethiopian Coffee (caffeine is my co-author), as a play on the song by Wang-Chung, "To Live and Die in L.A." I also discovered that Tupac had a rap song also titled that. I think Wang-Chung was first. Both songs are really depressing, one in an angst-ridden white-boy way, the other in a ghetto raggedness beatdown. I googled the phrase and it is the name of a website. There is genius being first. Not a case of premeditated plagiarism on my part because I had no knowledge of the site beforehand. No new raps under the sun I suppose. Got back from L.A. late last night, after a five hour delay in Dulles....

I have been in the process of rediscovering my joy in sports for sports sake--and all of the sports are individualistic. No crowds, clapping, cheerleaders, coaches, and criticism. Yesterday, I hit the bike and did a rail-trail for about ten miles total. Today, I lifted weights, went to Church, then went to another rail-trail and ran 5 miles. I compete against myself and no one else really cares. And that is the way I want it. I find joy in the activity itself, be it riding the bike, lifting weights, going for a run, paddling the kayak, or my Back-to-the-Future Retro return to skateboarding. All of the related equipment has been obtained in the last couple of years. Most of it is stacking up in my kitchen which is beginning to look like a Dick's Sporting Goods Store (though my stuff is typically quite a bit higher in quality). A friend asked me if I was going through a mid-life crisis. I don't think so. I am statistically closer to have a 2/3 of a life crisis if my longev...

This Easter morning I went out for my Resurrection Run, where the road is hard but it ends in joy. Nothing quite beats the sensation of stopping. I always just try to focus on the next step yet it helps occasionally envisioning the end and the rest to come. This obviously has spiritual parallels. I wanted to get the run done early because my Dad is due at 11:00 AM and feasting will soon commence after He arrives. He is making a Leg of Lamb! That was an Easter Dish his Mom used to make, so it is a meaningful tradition and one I remember fondly. I was fortunate to know at least my Dad's parents pretty well being that they lived in New York City and we lived in the Philly 'burbs which is a relatively short drive. It takes three hours to cook the Lamb in the oven. The Beer Fridge is stocked like a pond with fish to help us occupy the time until Dinner.     I did a Good Friday run also. These two jogs were the first two in quite some time. With the weather getting warmer a...

Matthew 20:22 But Jesus answered by saying to them, "You don't know what you are asking! Are you able to drink from the bitter cup of suffering I am about to drink?" "Oh yes," they replied, "we are able!" There is always that freak kid who likes vegetables. Like the kid who digs homework.  I recall being stuck with all the other children after school during a snowstorm where the elementary school's cafeteria staff broke out the mushroom soup for an afternoon emergency meal that they must have not been able to be unloaded previously and only one child liked it. The bowls were lined up as he sloppily and happily slurped away. As a kid, broccoli was my nemesis. I got the gag reflex just looking at it. One day I thought that if I buried the sulfuric and stalky greenery in Gulden's Mustard, I wouldn't taste the broccoli. The strategy worked, childhood was saved. The Gulden's also worked with brussel sprouts, cabbage, and an...