Brace Face No More!

It all started with an innocuous query to my dentist four years ago. During a routine cleaning I asked him if he could whiten my teeth. Well, much like an alcoholic that asks a friend "Do you think I have a drinking problem?", my dentist saw the opening to give me the ugly truth.

"Jerry, I could whiten your teeth. But given the shape your teeth are in, it wouldn't be worth it. You bite is collapsing, your molars are slanting inwards, you still have a baby tooth, and your upper teeth are slanted inward so far that they are digging into your lower gum & is causing serious periodontal disease. You will need dentures within ten years. So yeah, I could whiten your teeth, but you really should get braces first."

Dr. Vincenzo is nothing if not direct.

He then handed me the card of a local Orthodontist, Dr. Mark Lively. I called & scheduled a consult. And thus started a 37-month sojourn that ended two days ago, when I finally got my braces removed. The initial consult was, if nothing else, illuminating. Dr. Lively is a guy whose name fits him perfectly - an always smiling, upbeat, song-humming, joke-telling wiseaker. "Bite down", he instructed me. "Now open.....hmmmm....bite down again....hmm..." Much like a lumberjack inspecting his next tree, he looked, inspected, hummed whatever song was playing in his office, hummed some more, then stopped, took a deep breath, exhaled & gave me the prognosis. "Okay. You got like four things going on in your mouth..." He then explained them in great detail that pretty much confirmed what I thought. I should have gotten those dang braces when I was 15 years old. I asked him, well, can you fix me? He replied, "I love challenges, and YOU, Jerry, will be a challenge. Yes I can do it."

And he did it. For three years and one month, I learned all about bite plates, utility arches, slanted incisors, scissor bites, impacted cuspids...and pain. Broken wires. Jabbing wires. Double-helix wires reinforced to somehow keep my constant gum-chewing deep bite from severing...but still did. There were many times where I would call up his Angel Of Mercy, Lindi, and cuss up a blue streak & threatened felonies unless Mark would pull these things out of my mouth. Gimme the dentures. I had had enough.

But I talk big. I hung in there. Mark & his staff were eternally patient with me, and on Monday October 12, 2009, they came off. As I was scheduling my follow-up for my retainer fitting, Mark came out & handed me a gift. A bottle of wine. Probably cuz I was a 'bottle of whine' throughout the whole process. I actually cried when he gave me the gift.

Now, who in the heck cries getting a bottle of wine from an orthodontist? For that matter, who in the heck GETS a bottle of wine from an orthodontist? Well I did. And I did. So there. And part of the reason for the tears was the realization that, even though the day I had long been waiting for had finally arrived, there was genuine sadness that it was over. I had grown very fond of my visits to see Mark, Lindi, Michelle, Essie & the rest of gang. And I think that they enjoyed seeing me. Well, except for the felony-threatening part. The realization that I wouldn't be seeing these wonderful people anymore made me sad.

But now for the good news:

NOW I can go get my teeth whitened.

O-Town Plus Three Months

I see that I haven't posted a story here since way back in the halcyon days of April, when I was one month into my new gig working for Lynx in downtown O-Town. Well, since I have bulging following of SEVEN members now (roughly a quarter of the population of Wasilla Alaska if you don't count the children that look like moose inbreeding), there is such a responsibility-laden commitment now. Or something like that. Life is pretty good these days, as the paycheck spigot is now full on, and meals no longer consist of whatever is a Publix Bogo. So I thought it would be interesting to give an update of my thoughts of this place I am now calling home, three months since my initial glow -

• It gets hot in Orlando in the summer. While this is hardly a news flash, bear in mind that I moved from SOUTH Florida to here - I moved 150 miles NORTH. But the key geographic direction here is not north/south but from about 5 miles from the ocean to 55 miles away. I never realized the impact of a sea breeze to Florida climatology. The other day the high in Orlando was 98 degrees. With no breeze. And 85% humidity. The best way to give a graphic of this is, I wear glasses & the nanosecond I go from an air-conditioned building to outside, instant condensation.

• Keeping with boring weather talk, it doesn't rain in Orlando. We have apocalyptic, Scriptures-induced storms. More electricity in the air than rumors of a Beatles reunion tour. Every afternoon.

• People are friendly here. Bear in mind that I moved from the Sixth Borough also known as South Florida. Not to pick on New Yorkers, but I've found that when there are less of them in an area, said area tends to be a bit more laid back. And while I wouldn't necessarily call Orlando 'laid back', it definitely has a different vibe than SoFla. More natives here.

• So much to do here. This is not a boring town. There is a reason why it is the #1 tourist destination in the world, and it's kinda cool to hear folks talk about things like 'Hey, Universal Islands of Adventure is having a 3-day special this week.' Yeah I know I lamented about this fakeness in my last post, but now I'm talking from the standpoint of what to do during down time, and living in a place where you got the pick of Disney, Sea World, Universal, Wet 'N Wild, Aquatica, International Drive, $20 helicopter rides, and scads of golf courses doesn't suck. And I've come to find out the 'cheapie' methods of entertainment, like Downtown Disney - free parking, free admittance. Two words: Lego Land.
  

• You hungry? We got it. Mongolian barbecue? Check. Sushi restaurants everywhere. Vietnamese cuisine. Good ol' fashioned rib shacks (it's still the south). Sidewalk cafes in College Park. Authentic Puerto Rican cuisine in Kissimmee. Think of you favorite chain restaurant where you live & I'll betcha we got it here - Carrabba's, White Castle, Olive Garden, whatever. I haven't been stumped yet on that challenge.

Now, I know what you're thinking - 'Great Jer, but are you happy?' Uh, yeah, I am. The job is fantastic - and that may be the topic of a future blog - but the point of this post & others I've made is that life is so full of unexpected twists & turns, that you truly do not know where you may be a month or year from now. If you are finding yourself in the middle of a rough patch, just believe. Then get busy. And maybe you will find yourself, say 6 months from now, gushing about a new place that you now call home. I look forward to hearing from you with such a story.

O-Town O-My!

I have lived in Southeast Florida for over 25 years now, having moved here from Ohio in 1982. My domiciles have ranged from Port St. Lucie in the north to Boynton Beach in the south - centering around Palm Beach County mostly. And like any metropolitan area, we exhibit pride in our choice of residence. Part of the expression of pride is to decidedly trash other areas of the state. And the one area that has long be the whippin' boy is Central Florida, specifically the Orlando area.

Land of the Fake, Mickeyville, RatLand...home of overpriced happy meals, tourist traps & horrific traffic. That's the Orlando that we have portrayed. Much of which is, well, true - especially the traffic part. As my friend Lyle puts it, Orlando's the only town where, the fastest way to get from point A to B is to go in the opposite direction. Mind-numbing traffic. (Tip: Avoid International Drive).

Well, due to various sets of circumstances like the desire to not starve, I have been seeking gainful employment in my chosen career path, which led me to a real nice job offer in - you guessed it - Goofyville. And it was with real trepidation that I decided to take the position offered. That was a month ago, and I can tell you that I have discovered an area of Orlando that very much flies under the radar & is not talked much about - the downtown area.

Before I talk about what is in downtown Orlando. let me tell you what's not there. You will not find any souvenir shops, mouse hats, Chuck E Cheese, Japanese tourists, German tourists, hell - Florida tourists, insidious background 'It's a small world after all' music, or 45-minute wait lines for a 2-minute ride. All that is a 30-minute drive to the southwest that locals barely recognize, let alone point to with pride.

What downtown Orlando is, is one of the coolest urban settings I've ever been a part of. My office is smack downtown, and as such, I've been exploring the area - either on foot or through use of an awesome method of urban mobility unique to O-Town: The Lymmo. A cool decorated bus that has its own dedicated guideway & signal preemption. Translation: cars & traffic lights are not a factor - it glides past any traffic. And it delivers you to the center of bars, restaurants, musicians, museums, open markets & a cool/funky environment that, unlike more famous areas of Orlando, is completely organic and natural. Nothing contrived here. In downtown, It's a legit world after all. And there's no subliminal reinforcement needed of that fact.

The other thing unique to downtown is the proximity of great places to live. And by proximity I mean walking distance. Truly. Like 5 blocks away from a thumping night life & great restaurants are neighborhoods like Lake Eola Heights, Thornton Park & Colonial Town. Safe. Clean. A lot of pride exhibited by the residents. Totally freekin' cool as hell.

So there's my little advertisement for downtown Orlando. Coming from a jaded Floridian with long-held preconceived notions of what Orlando is, downtown has been an awesome eye-opener. And my advice to any would-be traveler to O-Town is this - Take the scads of money you would spend on a hotel with a mouse-shaped tub & overpriced admission tickets for the privilege of standing in mind-numbing lines, and stay downtown. Take in a Magic game, stroll around Lake Eola, try the Vietnamese cuisine on East Colonial...and basically enjoy the REAL Orlando.

Neurotic Browns Fan interviews Browns Head Coach Eric Mangini

Browns head coach Eric Mangini sits down to talk with Neurotic Browns Fan -


NBF: Thanks for taking time out of your busy schedule of remodeling the practice facility to speak with us.

Mangini: Uh, you’re welcome. Are you referring to the relocation of the Browns mural?

NBF: YES YOU INTERLOPER! HOW DARE YOU BESMIRCH THE PROUD HISTORY OF THIS TEAM! BELICHICK MUST DIE!

Mangini: Your passion is commendable. Also a little creepy. But don’t worry – I have only relocated it to an area where the public can see it. Have you ever seen the mural?

NBF: Are you being condescending? We pay your salary, bub.

Mangini: Actually, Mr. Lerner does tha…

NBF: LERNER!?! You mean that tea-sippin’ soccer-loving rich boy that cannot fathom the pain we have lived with all these years?

Mangini: Uh, yeah, Randy Lerner, the owner.

NBF: I know who he is! Now you’re insulting my intelligence. You’re not endearing yourself to us, Mangelichick.

Mangini: Well, since you mentioned him, you know that I got my start with the Browns when Belichick was head coach here. I was a go-fer, I broke down film, basically did anything that was asked…

NBF: So you supported the decision to cut (cue the choir) Bernie Kosar?

Mangini: Uh, actually, I didn’t have anything to do with that decision. During that time I was ordering pizza for the press corps that was gathering to attend the press conference…

NBF: I deliver pizzas for Hungry Howie’s.

Mangini: Uh…good…good for you.

NBF: That doesn’t mean I don’t know my football though, Mangoofus. Don’t try me. I once delivered a triple anchovy pie to (cue the choir) Dave Puzzouli. He sacked Elway during The Drive.

Mangini: You must have been proud.

NBF: YOU DON’T KNOW ME!

Mangini: Uh, okay. Anyway, I am real excited about being the head coach of this great team, with its proud history and tradition. It is my goal to bring a championship to this great city and to you fans. You all deserve it.

NBF: What about the Steelers?

Mangini: Uh, what about them?

NBF: My God, are you as blockheadedly obtuse as your former boss, Beliprick? Are you going to beat the Steelers?

Mangini: Well of course. It is my goal to beat whichever team the Browns play on a given week…

NBF: Ya gonna instruct your players to disembowel Roethlisberger? Maybe face-plant him like (cue the choir) Turkey Jones did to Bradshaw? Maybe yank Polamalu’s hair until it rips the flesh off the top of his head exposing his brain matter to the frigid Cleveland air causing him to die a slow agonizing death? Cuz that would be cool.

Mangini: Uh…yeah. Look, my team is going to play tough, nard-nosed blue-collar football, but we will also play within the rules.

NBF: You’re a wuss.

Mangini. Noted. Anyway, the ultimate goal is a Super Bowl win, right?

NBF: No. Beat the Steelers.

Mangini: Pardon?

NBF: BEAT THE FREEKIN’ STEELERS!!! What’s this “Super Bowl” thing you talk about?

Mangini: Uh, it’s the championship game of the NFL, played every year.

NBF: Oh. Do you get there by beating the Steelers?

Mangini: Actually, you get there by making the playoffs & winning all your playoff games. Technically, the Browns could lose twice to the Steelers and still make it.

NBF: I don’t like that then.

Mangini: Sorry to hear that. Anyway, look – I gotta run. I’ve got a ton of evaluation to do on the current players & get ready for free agency & then the draft. There’s just not enough hours in the day, you know?

NBF: Yeah right. You need to go buy some more white paint. I get it. Not enough time for the FANS WHO PAY YOUR SALARY AND WHO YOU SHOULD WORSHIP, YOU FRAUD!

Mangini: Yeah. Anyway, have a nice day.

NBF: DON’T LEAVE BEREA!

...And There Was Much Yawning

So, the Cleveland Browns have announced their new Head Coach - Eric Mangini, the recently deposed head coach of the New York Jets.

And we collectively shrugged.

And I don’t get it. The apathy, that is. I understand that most fans were holding out for a ‘big splash’ hire like Marty Schottenheimer, or the whale of a catch in Bill Cowher. Neither materialized, and in retrospect, they were not going to happen – those were the wet dreams of the fans, but not the wishes of the guy who pays the bills, owner Randy Lerner.

But ponder for a moment what the hiring of Mangini brings to Cleveland, and that is this: A head coach with experience at being a head coach. Yeah I know, you’re yawning again. But for the Browns, this is an accomplishment. The last EIGHT head coaches of the Browns came to the job with zero experience at being a head coach. We have to go all the way back to Nick Skorich to identify the last Browns coach that had such experience when he took the job, and further, the list of such coaches ends there. Eric Mangini and Nick Skorich – the only coaches in Browns HISTORY to bring experience to the head coaching position.

Insanity is defined as repeating behavior expecting different results. And I would have placed the hiring of yet another assistant coach to head the Browns squarely in the insanity category. That is not to say that assistants cannot flourish in their first gig – Sam Rutigliano and Marty Schottenheimer are two examples. But for every Riverboat Sam we had a Forrest Gregg and Butch Davis. For every Marty we had Chris Palmer and Romeo Crennel.

So why is Browns Nation unimpressed with the Mangini hire? Some point to his dour persona and lack of sideline or press conference animation. Seems I remember people describing Paul Brown the same way. Some point to Mangini being part of the ‘Belichick Tree’ of coaches, and here in Cleveland, that is not considered a positive thing since our personal experience with Mumbles was not necessarily a positive one. But love or hate him, he has produced three Super Bowl victories, and the byproduct of that is a tree is planted & his assistants go on to head coaching gigs. We could certainly do worse.

Some think we should have hired a General Manager first, and then let that GM do the hiring of a Head Coach. Sort of like Phil Savage selecting Romeo Crennel. ‘nuff said there. Hiring one before the other guarantees nothing, so get over that.

What I really think is happening is that Browns optimism is at a low ebb. I think it is a defense mechanism us Browns fans have cultivated through the years of Butch Davis mismanagement and Romeo Crennel cluelessness. We don’t want to get excited until we are given a reason to. And hiring another head coach is not sufficient reason. Yet.

But like the Buzzards returning to Hinckley every Spring, you watch what happens when training camp opens in July. We will be back. But for now, we are treating the Mangini hire like we would opening our Christmas present and finding that instead of getting a Big Wheel we got a calculator. Disappointed.

But ultimately, it was the right gift.

The World According To Dee

Mother’s Day is over five months away, so the following story is not meant to serve as any kind of flowery tribute befitting that day we set aside to keep FTD and chocolate companies in business. Instead, it is simply a long overdue introduction for whoever reads my blog to the most amazing person I have ever known. My mother.

Dolores Mae Peroli Bryan, born February 21, 1927. Child of the depression. Married Charles Herald Bryan on February 12, 1949, and remained his devoted wife until his death in 1997. Mother of four more-or-less normal children. Everyone knows her as Dee.

I, of course, know her simply as Mom.

Dee is now 81 years old. At that age she is not the person, either physically or mentally, that she once was – who is – but even at this age she does things that astound. I will get to that shortly. I am her youngest child, and as such share what I believe to be a unique bond; much of which was forged when I was a child, but transcends just that closeness. We are kindred souls with very similar views on politics, sports and how to interact with the world in general. Virtually all that I am as a person can be directly traced to her, and that is not an exaggeration.

In 1974 Dee was diagnosed with breast cancer and had to have a radical mastectomy. In those days that meant not only removal of her breast, but most of the muscles in her upper right arm. The night before the surgery, people came over to visit with her, and I still remember how everyone arrived concerned for her welfare, but left feeling energized by her spirit. To her, it was just one of those things that sometimes happens, and you just face it head on, deal with it, and move on. What I am trying to say is that the word ‘pity’ is not part of her vocabulary.

Her politics are liberal, she thinks LeBron James is a ‘nice young man,’ thinks Romeo Crennel is cluelessly over his head as coach of the Browns, believes that family is the most important asset that a person can have, and you always balance your checkbook to the penny. Not surprisingly, I share all those views.

Dee is perpetual motion. It infuriates us to this day how she simply refuses to sit still, that we fear she will take a fall or simply wear herself out. And even when she is sitting in her chair watching her Cleveland Cavaliers or Indians, she crochets. Ravenously. Like, afghans-for-the-world levels. And while this may not seem unusual, it is worth noting that due to a rough patch of circulatory problems, she has two fingers & half a thumb missing on her right hand and one finger on her left hand.

How much does she crochet? Well, each of us kids have at least five of her afghans, all her relatives, most every neighbor on the street, half the city, and over 300 sick kids in local hospitals. She has donated over 300 afghans to Project Linus, which is a program to basically give sick kids a blanket. Even with about a third of her hand missing, she cranks out about an afghan a week. There are hundreds of children in the greater Akron area with a Dee Bryan-original afghan.

These days, Dee is forgetful and often repeats herself. She often asks which day it is. She will tell you a story at least a dozen times, and in the spirit of quid pro quo, it is best to repeat stories to her so that she will remember them. The onset of dementia perhaps? Nah. She’s just old. And what do I do when she repeats herself? I give her the same patience she always gave me when I was ripping through parts of my life; times where I knew I was causing her to lose sleep fretting over my welfare. I smile and nod, laugh at the appropriate time, and show her the respect she has earned. Not that she has demanded, but earned. Hers has been a life well lived, and one that anyone through emulation would dramatically improve their own life. She is the embodiment of attraction rather than promotion – never boastful, just an example of grace, courage and dignity.

One day in the future – one I hope is still well off – there will be a funeral. It will be an event. Hundreds will be there, because I am not sure she totally realizes it, but the scope of her positive impact to others is vast. And on that day the world will become a far crueler, selfish place with her no longer occupying it. There is no doubt she will be in heaven, as she has lived her life as an angel within our midst.

Ode To The Semicolon

I have always rooted for the underdog, which would help to explain my devotion to a team that has never made it to a Super Bowl in their existence. But now I am going to take this cheering to a level of subliminty heretofore not expressed. I am going to talk punctuation.

More specifically, the misuse of punctuation. It truly shocks me the pervasion of sloppiness in writing. With the proliferation of e-mailing, texting and other 'shorthand' versions of writing, a subculture of punctuation paucity has flourished. And don't even get me started on texting acronyms like lol, roflmao & gtg (Question: Does anyone truly 'roll on the floor laughing their ass off'?). But aside from this bastardization of the language for brevity's sake (or to save money on texting charges), proper punctuation seems to have become a lost art.

I see you rolling your eyes. Stop it.

Punctuation, when used properly, delivers the message or the story in the proper timing; in the way the writer intended it. If not used properly, the message gets garbled, or worse, misunderstood. Hey, wars have happened over misunderstandings, so let's not trivialize punctuation, mmmkay?

Which brings me to the bastard stepchild of punctuation. The semicolon. It's sort of a colon, sort of a comma. And totally misused, or worse, ignored. Semicolons are very important in writing. They are used within a sentence to express a shift in thought yet still having connection to the initial thought, like the following: "I like to eat cows; however, they don't like to be eaten by me." Alas, such sublety is lost on many.

But let's talk about the poor semicolon for a moment. First off, it's a terrible name. Semicolon. It doesn't even rise to the level of a full colon; it's existence is to be only partially like a symbol that has the same name as the body part that carries human waste. How sad. "All I want to be is sort of like the punctuation mark named after the duct for carrying feces from the body."

Such humility.

We could all take a lesson from the humble semicolon and try to emulate its acceptance as a forgotten punctuation mark. The semicolon has been dealt an unfair hand, but it still sits there, ready to be used in its proper place. In fact, look at your keyboard right now - note that the semicolon shares a key with the colon (right side of the keyboard, next to the L). But a closer look will reveal that you do not have to hit the shift key to attain the semicolon, but you DO have to in order to get to the colon. What are the QWERTY creators telling us? That the semicolon is more important than the colon perhaps? That's how I choose to understand it.

So next time you are searching for that right punctuation mark, give the humble, underused and totally misunderstood semicolon a try.

But if you misuse it I will rof and lmao.