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Sean D – Page 18 – Instant Sean

Author: Sean D

  • Jumping (Fiction)

    Scotty liked the way he felt when he was in the air.  There was nothing than can defeat him when he was on his bike.  He did most of his thinking while flying in the air.  Most people concentrated or focused on the landing, or the technique.  Scotty just focused on the freedom.

    “Why do I jump? Because there is something that I can touch that no one else can.  I can feel the sky as I jump every time.  I hate the concept of the ground, but I’ve got to touch the sky every now and then.  Jim can fly his jets till he turns blue in the face, but he never touches the sky.”

    I could never jump a bike, my fear of heights would capture my desire to touch the sky.

    But there was that one day…

    I was 11 and had the greatest BMX bike ever (Okay maybe it wasn’t the greatest, but it was mine) , a solid red Schwinn that my Uncle Al gave to me.  And I know I wasn’t Evil Knievel because instead of jumping Snake River, or a Las Vegas monument, I was just jumping the ramp that my brother and I had put across a small stream.

    We put the ramp where we could ride as fast as we could down the two blocks of street , making the small turn down the dirt road and then down the small hill to the ramp.

    It was the last day of summer and I hadn’t landed the jump yet.

    I had tried every day that summer and whether I was short, or didn’t even make the ramp, I just wanted to make this jump before school started.  Everyone in the 5th grade knew I was going to try the jump and I had the pressure of trying to make it or be known as a failure for the entire year.

    So my best friend Scotty was there and told me “no matter what happens, just do your best and don’t forget to touch the sky.”

    So I put on my best Dungarees and my favorite t-shirt on and headed down the three blocks to the staging area.

    As I rode up my stomach fell.

    Cause it wasn’t Jimmy or Scotty there.

    It was the entire 5th grade.

    “You can do it Donnie” said a guy who I thought tried to stuff me into my locker last year.

    “I’ll kiss you if you make it D,” Joanna said to me.

    And all I could think of was Scotty’s words as I started to pedal, and circled the path.

    Touch the sky, touch the sky…

    and I started my run, pedaling faster and faster as I hit the turn and down the dirt hill I pedalled.

    The kids were just blurs as I past each of them, I could see the ramp and hit it going faster than I thought possible.

    And I was flying. It was just like Scotty said.  It was amazing, I could taste it.

    I landed the jump , and as my hands were in the air celebrating my landing I hit a pebble.

    And I flipped in the air again, but this time with a bike on top of me landing with an awkward thud.

    Something was broken in my arm. Yup, definitely broken.

    Joanna gave me that kiss, but I didn’t feel it.

    I didn’t feel my broken arm (in three places).

    I was free.

    Jumping

  • 6,941 days

    People say I am a nice man, a good soul, but there was a time when I was dark and filled with hatred.

    It has been 6,941 days since my life changed forever.

    But I’m getting ahead of myself. All great stories have a beginning and an end.  Let’s start at the beginning.

    My dad worked for the airlines and my mom worked because we had 5 kids and times were tough.  We didn’t have the fancy jeans, nor drove a fancy car. We were simple people just trying to survive.

    It was 1987 and I lived in Fairview Park, Ohio,  just outside of Cleveland and I went to Fairview High School , the home of the Warriors.

    I was a geek and wrote with Dana Miller , Shawn McCormick and a random woman that belonged to the popular crew, the school newspaper.  We went to Bowling Green University for the State Newspaper Championships.  I didn’t expect anything at all. I expected us to have some fun. I tried to hit on Dana unsuccessfully and had the time of my life.  We went to the awards ceremony not expecting anything. When the 3rd places were handed out, I was thinking that if we would win anything it would be there, or maybe an honorable mention.

    We didn’t win HM or 3rd place.

    Nor did we win 2nd place.

    We won 1st place in our division.

    1st Place in the state of Ohio.

    I was on cloud 9. I thought that “this would give me a boost in popularity!”

    I was wrong.

    My Senior year, 1988,  I was still a geek and , I found out later, nobody gave a shit about a 1st place in newspaper as long as I kept talking about how bad our football team was.

    And yet I did walk taller, and gave a shit more. Some people would come up to me to talk about the changed Sean.

    Until the day that would change my life forever.

    I was pulled out of my classes and sent to the councilors office to talk to the councilor.

    “Why do you hate your sister?” I was asked.

    I didn’t hate her for much.  I hated that she was younger and was the popular girl, loved by all while I was the one that wasn’t strong, tall or cool.

    It was petty, I know that now. But then the next question threw me for a loop.

    “Why do you think your sister wants to commit suicide?”

    I found out that the fight that my sister had with my parents the night before ,which caused her to stay the night with a friend, had caused her to tell her English teach Dr. Fawcett that she wanted to kill herself.

    The days all after blended together, with thoughts of glory days for my senior year gone.

    I was just Tara’s older brother.

    And I was sick of the sessions with the councilors, sick of the people from the state who came and harassed my parents , and it came to a boiling point that one day in lunch.

    I was sitting with Dana and Shawn, alone but with the two people who in my mind always has, and always will have my backs when Tara came up.

    She spoke words that I don’t remember, because they don’t matter, and because they made me madder than I’ve ever been  before.

    “May you catch a contagious disease! May you die for what you have done to Mom, Dad and to ruining  my senior year.  I hope you die,” I said with such venom  that it took everyone by surprise.

    I found myself back in the office so I can “talk about my outburst”.

    I have blacked out the days of my senior year, just remembering that I screwed with Dr. Fawcett, trying to fail because then I would be in the same class with my sister when I had to return the following year.  I wanted to screw with her final year like she made my final year a nightmare.

    He passed me with a D. I didn’t do the “required” Senior paper, because he was harder on me because he thought I covered up for my parents.

    I didn’t. He was an asshole.

    I walked across the stage at graduation and looked at my proud parents, prouder of me that I achieved through a tough year.

    My parents have always thought that those 3 years in Cleveland were the beginning of problems because of the school district and their stupidity.  My hatred of that city and that school is boundless. I will never, ever return to Fairview Park. Ever.

    I walked past my sister and celebrated with my brother Patrick when it was over. She was dead to me.

    Was that the day I’m referencing, no, keep reading.

    The next year, I moved to New York to go to college at a place that I only went because I couldn’t get in anywhere else. My senior year wasn’t stellar, let me just leave it at that.

    When I would go home for holidays, we would never talk directly at each other, just to other people to direct messages.

    “Pat, could you please get Tara to pass the mac & cheese to me?”

    “Pat, could you tell Sean to go to hell,” she’d reply.

    My parents were as patient as they could be and as soon as she graduated high school in Texas, she was a pharmacy tech at Tom Thumb.

    I returned to Texas in 1990 with my head between my legs after a miserable time at Adelphi University. High School only prepared me to fail there.

    I moved into an apartment complex and started a set of jobs that I only continued to fail at because I looked for the fight.  I looked to try and fix the injustices that I thought were there.

    Tara moved down the street, and though we were less than a  half a block from each other , we only saw each other at our parents house for birthdays and holidays.

    One of my darkest moments were approaching.

    One day, I saw my sister with a goiter on her chin.

    Now to me, the pretty girl that everybody loves, was imperfect once again.

    And I took advantage of it.

    “Hey turkey girl, nice little gobbler. Can you come to dinner and gobble for us?

    My hatred came out with venom and anger.

    And yet she said nothing and walked away to cry.

    I had won.

    And yet I lost so much more.

    I had won a battle that was so meaningless that to this day it is one of the single most embarrassing moments in my life.

    A month later she was diagnosed with Burkitt’s Lymphoma.

    Burkitt’s is a very rare form of cancer with about only 300 new cases a year in the United States. Burkitt’s Lymphoma, rare in most of the world, is the most common childhood cancer in Central Africa, and is one of the most aggressive of all human cancers.

    Burkitt’s lymphoma is one type of a group of malignant diseases know as the Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphomas (NHL). These lymphomas are very similar to the leukemias. The type of malignant cell present is called a B-cell and Burkitt’s is often referred to as a B-cell lymphoma or leukemia.

    As with other cancers, the exact cause is not known. Burkitt’s is the most common in children in Africa and there is some evidence linking its cause there to a virus known as the Epstein-Barr virus. Outside of Africa, chromosomal defects in some of the patient’s cells may be the cause. Children still seem to be the most affected, but there are cases of adults with Burkitt’s.

    This malignancy grows very rapidly and a person who appeared in good health a month or 6 weeks ago may now be critically ill.

    I tried everything.  I offered to help with blood drives, platelet drives. Anything to help her.  Tara tried everything, from traditional to non traditional fighting every day. We didn’t say anything to each other, though we knew we had to resolve our unresolved issues.  We just were too stubborn to say we were sorry.

    I remember my 21st birthday like it was yesterday.

    The week before it, Tara had been in the hospital taking yet another chemo treatment.  Each treatment was worse than the last and the petite woman that roamed the halls of Fairview was bloated to extreme.  If I didn’t know who she was, I wouldn’t have figured that the two were the same woman.

    She had just finished puking into a pan as she asked me what I wanted for my birthday.

    I can still hear my words in my ears today.

    “I need nothing, but you home and healthy!”

    As she threw up I looked over at my mom and she shook her head no. I knew it would be a long shot, but I had to hold out hope.

    She kept fighting and each day I’d look over to my mom who’d shake her head no.  She wasn’t going to be home for my birthday.  I was so crushed.

    I went over to my apartment after work and changed out of the Radio Shack managers monkey suit to get prepared for my parents birthday party for me. I almost went up to see Tara in the hospital, but Mom called me to tell me to put a move on.

    Now when I got to the house, I put my key into the door.

    But it didn’t work.

    I was so frustrated, so angry that I rang the bell over and over again.

    Why would they change the locks?

    And then the door opened.

    And holding a birthday cake was my sister Tara Lee.

    I cried.

    We hugged each other and celebrated like I’ve never celebrated since.

    But Tara Lee and I didn’t have time to talk.

    The next day she was back in the hospital.

    April 4th , 1991 I went up to the room to talk to her. I wanted to make peace with her.  But as I opened the door, everybody was in the room. My parents, grandparents, Tara’s Fiance Trent, and a priest.

    The priest was giving her last rites, and yet she still hit the call button.

    “Where are my meds? I’m not done fighting yet!”

    I made a deal with my mom and dad. I would come by at 7 a.m. and relieve the parents / grandparents so they could take showers and I would have my moment to make peace with Tara. I would finally get to apologize to her.

    I gave her a kiss on her head and told her “We have unfinished business. You me and a long talk in the morning.”

    “I can’t wait,” she said to me.

    I went home to my apartment thinking about my apology, how I was going to word it and finally went to bed around midnight.

    In the middle of the night I woke up with the most incredible pain in my chest.  I looked at the clock and saw that it was 4:55 a.m.

    The pain was stronger than I’ve ever felt before, and then it was gone.

    I tried calling the hospital but the direct line was off “for patient comfort” and I just went back to sleep thinking how strange it was to have that feeling and woke up at 6 a.m. to a phone call.

    From my mother…

    crying.

    “She’s gone Sean.”

    “What time?”

    “It doesn’t matter”

    “It does to me, what time?”

    “4:55.”

    I fell to my knees and cursed God. I cursed him for taking her before I was able to find peace with her.

    The days thereafter were a blur to me.

    6,941 days ago God took Tara Lee Donahue from this earth. She only lived 7,208 days and yet she still is in my heart.

    I always put yellow roses on her grave, and this year someone left a pinwheel, I think it was Trent. I’m still here if you need to talk brother.

    I can’t say that I have found peace.

    I can’t say that she has forgiven me.

    But I haven’t forgiven myself.

    I was a fool, a child, that made childish mistakes.

    And I walk this earth doing stuff for others paying penance for the sins that I have created and those sins that I have yet to commit.

    But that, my friends, is only the start of my penance.

    I walk this earth from place to place, trying to do things, say things, improve things.

    Fortunately for the world, I still have things to do on this earth.

    The Big Guy has a plan for me, that I wish I could comprehend or understand but I don’t.

    It’s not a matter of forgiveness that I want. I used to want that all the time. But it isn’t what I live for.

    I live for my family who help me in my walk.

    I live for Shelby Lee and Ryan Matthew, the most wonderful kids in my life.

    I live for my wife Joanna, who though she had things that she needed me to do, told me to continue writing and clear my conscience and sooth my soul.

    I live for the people that I have touched and those I’ve yet to touch.

    I know the words of forgiveness have touched my heart and soul and that she has forgiven me.

    I’m here with a mission waiting for the day that I can come face to face to her and say.

    I’m sorry Tara.

  • Dollar Bill

    (Simply a fiction story of my overactive imagination…)

    Fredrick was a small town that was originated by two gay frontiersmen named Fred and Rick back in the 1800’s.  Nothing really happened in the town.  It had developed into the #6 retirement community in the the entire south due to the proliferation of antique stores and the town shut down at 8 p.m. daily with the exception of the Polish bar that kept open till midnight.  Oh, what a wild town it was.

    When my wife told me that we were going to Fredrick, I thought that there would be something interesting for a thirtysomething couple to do.

    “We’re not here to do anything really, except shopping for the children for me, and you get to rest,” Allison said as my mouth dropped.

    “Wait a minute dear.  We had a deal.”

    “The deal was over when you had a heart attack at 34.  You get to follow the doctors diet, you get to rest in the country and if this week goes well you get to go back to your internet job and heart attack causing lifestyle”

    “But,” I knew I was doomed.

    “No, you don’t.”

    “Fine,” the words I said when I knew that I was doomed.  I had a plan, get away when she slept like a freight train.

    Yeah, about that.  We were staying in her parents house 5 miles from the main strip of Fredrick. And when I mean strip, I mean one street that if you moseyed a block over you were surrounded by bed and breakfasts and grumpy old people who hadn’t had enough prune juice in their life.

    So the first night, I snuck out at 1 A.M. thinking that I had plenty of time till last call.

    I pushed the car down the gravel driveway until it was far away from the house for me to start it up.  I headed down the two lane highway that lead into town to find it deserted.  I walked up to the bar and thinking that maybe it was just a slow night, but how wrong I was.

    “Sorry son, Denial county rules say all alcoholic beverages must be served drank no later than midnight. So you can head back home. And by the way Daniel, give my best to your wonderful wife and I won’t tell her that you tried to get a drink when I see her next,” said Sheriff Stone laughing.

    I drove back home angrier than ever.

    I tried to get onto the family computer but trying to suffer through dial up was completely beyond me.  I tried everything to find some connection that my wireless could pick up but I was in the middle of NOWHERE! There was not a wireless hot spot in the town, not even in the only three star hotel.

    “Sorry son, we just don’t have a reason to have it here.  You can head up to Austin if you need it bad enough,” was the excuse that I got.

    I was in my own personal hell.

    I got back into bed and looked at my wife.

    “Did you say hi to Sheriff Stone for me honey,” Allison said as she laughed while turning to hold me?

    “I hate this place.  I love you, but I just don’t like you now.”

    “Just give it a shot dear.”

    “Shoot me, hell, I’ll just borrow your dad’s gun.”

    “No, dear.  Let me hold you and you can try something new tomorrow,” she said as she fell asleep holding my shoulder.

    I didn’t sleep much that night.  It was quiet.

    Too quiet.

    The next couple of days were a blur, Allison shopping, me being pack mule and drug around to every shop that I could imagine in hell:

    A store that had nothing but cat stuff, including ceramic waving cats, which always freaks me out.

    A store that had every sports teams gear, cept my favorite team, reason why … “no one really likes them down here”.

    We went to a store that had antique guns, but no bullets.

    Oh and don’t get me started on the store that sold nothing but antique doll clothes.

    The best that I could do was just resign to the fact that the next couple of days would drive me nuts.

    However, the  final night changed the entire way I think of Fredrick.

    I was sitting on the porch that had surrounded my in-laws house enjoying a pipe of vanilla tobacco when it walked up to me.

    Now, everyone in town talked about the 18 point buck.

    It was a legend in the entire county, no one had ever seen the beast that it was.  All the hunters had tried to shoot at it and thought to have failed.  It was huge and had the scars that would terrify any child.  Bambi, this was not.

    I didn’t move and stopped even puffing on the pipe as it came closer.

    The chair that I was sitting on was on the edge of the porch closest to a large area of grass that I was supposed to mow before we left on Sunday.   And I looked back to find my gun, hell even my father in laws gun to shoot it. I would be the hero of Denial. But I forgot that my gun was in my car and my father in laws was in the gun case locked up because of the last time I came to Denial.  I was in such a hurry to shoot a buck off the porch like my father in law that I forgot about the recoil and I kinda launched myself through a plate glass window.  The family nicknamed me “Secret Service” because of it. I had to find a way to let everyone see that I could either kill it, or hell take a picture of it.

    The buck came closer and my heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest.  It slowly moved and started eating something on the ground in between my chair. I slowly tried to move and it immediately jerked up.

    I could feel the snorting and snot flying from the nose of the beast. I took a puff of my pipe again and it went back to work eating while I slowly took my phone out so I could take at least a picture of it.

    I tried to block the sound out when it took but the noise was just enough.  The buck sprang onto the porch and came closer and closer to me.  I backed up more and more until I was at the door of the house.

    As I tried to open the door in the dark the buck came closer until it launched into the air at me.  I heard a loud noise and I blacked out.

    I came to in the hospital room with scratches and bruises everywhere and I had a couple broken bones.

    “You’re a lucky man, not many people have come that close to an 18 point buck without proper equipment and survived sir,” said the nurse to me.

    I tried to get her attention and she finally got my message to bring my phone to me.

    I wanted to show her the picture of the buck, but as I scrolled through I found that I only took a picture of the bucks ass and a good portion of my left thumb.

    Stupid camera phone.

    Stupid buck.

    When I got home weeks later my wife had a surprise for me.

    “Just keep your eyes closed hun until we get into your office.”

    “What’s the big deal? You refile everything while I was gone again dear?”

    “Shut up and keep your eyes closed.”

    “Fine,” I said knowing that she had something up her sleeve.

    “Okay open them,” she said with a laugh.

    Now of all the things I wanted in my office, the list included naked playmates, stacks of unmarked cash, hell even the lack of bills would make me happy, I wasn’t expecting to see it hanging on my wall.

    “There you go honey, you’ll never forget that moment again.”

    On my wall was the eighteen point buck head, with a plaque that read:

    To my darling husband
    who didn’t flinch much when
    I shot the eighteen point
    on our porch.

    BTW, we named the Buck Dollar

    Love, your wife.

    I knew I’d be renicknamed Dollar when I got back to Fredrick again.

    But this time Allison, I’ll have my weapon near me and I’d only stare at the stars with you next to me.

    And I promise I won’t leave the bed after you are asleep ever again.

    Now can you please change the dressing on my ear. I can still hear ringing.

  • Happy Birthday to me!!!!

    Today is going to be a GREAT day!

    I share March 23rd with the following people:

    * 1429 – Margaret of Anjou, wife of Henry VI of England (d. 1482)
    * 1638 – Frederik Ruysch, Dutch physician and anatomist (d. 1731)
    * 1645 – William Kidd, Scottish sailor (d. 1701)
    * 1699 – John Bartram, American botanist (d. 1777)
    * 1723 – Agha Mohammad Khan Ghajar, King of Iran (d. 1771)
    * 1732 – Marie Adélaïde of France, daughter of Louis XV (d. 1800)
    * 1754 – Baron Jurij Vega, Slovenian mathematician, physicist, and artillery officer (d. 1802)
    * 1769 – William Smith, English geologist and cartographer (d. 1839)
    * 1769 – Augustin Daniel Belliard, French general (d. 1832)
    * 1823 – Schuyler Colfax, Vice President of the United States (d. 1885)
    * 1826 – Léon Minkus, German/Czech composer and violinist (d. 1917)
    * 1831 – Eduard Schlagintweit, German writer (d. 1866)
    * 1834 – Julius Reubke, German composer (d. 1858)
    * 1858 – Ludwig Quidde, German pacifist, recipient of the Nobel Peace Prize (d. 1941)
    * 1862 – Nathaniel Reed, American outlaw turned evangelist (d. 1950)
    * 1868 – Dietrich Eckart, early supporter of Adolf Hitler’s Nazi Party and member of Thule Society (d. 1923)
    * 1869 – Calouste Gulbenkian, Armenian businessman and philanthropist (d. 1955)
    * 1874 – J. C. Leyendecker, German American Illustrator (d. 1951)
    * 1878 – Franz Schreker, Austrian composer (d. 1934)
    * 1880 – Heikki Ritavuori, Finnish politician (d. 1922)
    * 1881 – Roger Martin du Gard, French writer, Nobel laureate (d. 1958)
    * 1881 – Hermann Staudinger, German chemist, Nobel laureate (d. 1965)
    * 1882 – Emmy Noether, German mathematician (d. 1935)
    * 1887 – Juan Gris, Spanish artist (d. 1927)
    * 1887 – Josef Čapek, Czech writer (d. 1945)
    * 1887 – Prince Felix Yussupov, Russian assassin of Rasputin (d. 1967)
    * 1893 – Cedric Gibbons, American art director (d. 1960)
    * 1893 – G. D. Naidu (Gopalaswamy Doraiswamy Naidu), Indian Inventor & Engineer (Edison of India) (d. 1974)
    * 1895 – Encarnacion Alzona, Filipino historian (d. 2001)
    * 1899 – Dora Gerson, German actress and singer (d. 1943)
    * 1900 – Erich Fromm, German-born psychoanalyst (d. 1980)
    * 1904 – H. Beam Piper, American science fiction author (d. 1964)
    * 1905 – Lale Andersen, German singer and cabaretist (d. 1972)
    * 1905 – Joan Crawford, American actress (d. 1977)
    * 1907 – Daniel Bovet, Swiss-born scientist, Nobel laureate (d. 1992)
    * 1910 – Akira Kurosawa, Japanese film director (d. 1998)
    * 1912 – Wernher von Braun, German-born physicist and engineer (d. 1977)
    * 1915 – Vasily Zaitsev, Soviet World War II hero (d. 1991)
    * 1919 – Carl Graffunder, mid-century modernist architect
    * 1920 – Neal Smith, former United States Congressman
    * 1920 – Tetsuharu Kawakami, Japanese baseball player and coach
    * 1921 – Donald Campbell, British car and motorboat racer (d. 1967)
    * 1922 – Marty Allen, American comedian and actor
    * 1922 – Ugo Tognazzi, Italian actor, director and screenwriter (d. 1990)
    * 1924 – Bette Nesmith Graham, American inventor (d. 1980)
    * 1925 – David Watkin, English cinematographer (d. 2008)
    * 1929 – Sir Roger Bannister, English runner
    * 1931 – Yevgenij Grishin, Russian speed skater (d. 2005)
    * 1931 – Viktor Korchnoi, Russian chess player
    * 1932 – Don Marshall, Canadian ice hockey player
    * 1933 – Philip Zimbardo, American psychologist, known for the Stanford prison experiment
    * 1934 – Ludvig Faddeev, Russian mathematician
    * 1934 – Fernand Gignac, Canadian singer and actor (d. 2006)
    * 1934 – Mark Rydell, American film and television director
    * 1937 – Craig Breedlove, American land speed record holder
    * 1937 – Robert Gallo, American physician
    * 1938 – Dave Pike, American jazz musician
    * 1939 – Pepe Lienhard, Swiss band leader and entertainer
    * 1941 – Jim Trelease, American educator and children’s literature author
    * 1942 – Walter Rodney, Guyanese historian and political figure (d. 1980)
    * 1943 – Lee May, former Major League Baseball player
    * 1943 – Nils-Aslak Valkeapää, Finnish writer (d. 2001)
    * 1944 – Michael Nyman, British minimalist composer
    * 1944 – Tony McPhee, English singer and guitarist (The Groundhogs)
    * 1945 – Franco Battiato, Italian singer, songwriter and filmmaker
    * 1945 – David Grisman, American bluegrass musician
    * 1948 – David Olney, American musician
    * 1949 – Ric Ocasek, American musician (The Cars)
    * 1949 – Roland Lee, American Watercolor Artist
    * 1950 – Anthony De Longis, American actor
    * 1950 – Corinne Clery, French actress
    * 1951 – Ron Jaworski, American football player and analyst
    * 1952 – Kim Stanley Robinson, American author
    * 1953 – Bo Diaz, Venezuelan baseball player (d. 1990)
    * 1953 – Chaka Khan, American singer
    * 1953 – Kiran Mazumdar-Shaw, Indian entrepreneur, Chairman of Biocon Ltd
    * 1954 – Geno Auriemma, American basketball coach
    * 1955 – Moses Malone, American basketball player
    * 1955 – Petrea Burchard, American actress
    * 1956 – José Manuel Barroso, Portuguese politician, president of the European Commission
    * 1957 – Teresa Ganzel, American actor
    * 1957 – Amanda Plummer, American actress
    * 1957 – Robbie James, Welsh footballer (d. 1998)
    * 1957 – Lucio Gutierrez, former President of Ecuador
    * 1958 – Etienne De Wilde, Belgian cyclist
    * 1958 – El Duce, American singer and drummer (The Mentors) (d. 1997)
    * 1958 – Michael Sorich, American voice actor, writer and director
    * 1959 – Catherine Keener, American actress
    * 1959 – Epic Soundtracks, English musician (Swell Maps, Crime and the City Solution, These Immortal Souls) (d. 1997)
    * 1959 – Philippe Volter, Belgian actor (d. 2005)
    * 1960 – Nicol Stephen, Deputy First Minister of Scotland
    * 1961 – Helmi Johannes, Indonesian television newscaster
    * 1961 – Steve Holmes, Romanian-German porn actor
    * 1962 – Steve Redgrave, British rower, 5 Olympic Gold Medals
    * 1963 – Míchel (José Miguel González Martín), Spanish footballer
    * 1964 – Hope Davis, American actress
    * 1964 – John Pinette, American comedian
    * 1965 – Sarah Buxton, American actress
    * 1965 – Richard Grieco, American actor and singer
    * 1965 – Marti Pellow, Scottish singer
    * 1965 – Gary Whitehead, American poet
    * 1967 – David Ford, Canadian kayaker
    * 1968 – Damon Albarn, English musician (Blur, Gorillaz and The Good, the Bad & the Queen)
    * 1968 – Mitch Cullin, American novelist

    * 1968 – Fernando Hierro, Spanish footballer
    * 1968 – Michael Atherton, English cricketer
    * 1970 – Sean Donahue – American radio personality, novelist

    * 1971 – Yasmeen Ghauri, Canadian supermodel
    * 1971 – Karen McDougal, American model
    * 1971 – Gail Porter, British television presenter
    * 1971 – Alexander Selivanov, Russian ice hockey player
    * 1971 – Hiroyoshi Tenzan, Japanese professional wrestler
    * 1972 – Joe Calzaghe, Welsh boxer
    * 1972 – Judith Godrèche, French actress and author
    * 1973 – Jerzy Dudek, Polish footballer
    * 1973 – Wim Eyckmans, Belgian racing driver
    * 1973 – Jason Kidd, American basketball player
    * 1975 – Alydar, American racehorse (d. 1990)
    * 1976 – Michelle Monaghan, American actress
    * 1976 – Dougie Lampkin, English motorcycle trials rider
    * 1976 – Jeremy Newberry, American football player
    * 1976 – Joel Peralta, Dominican baseball player
    * 1976 – Keri Russell, American actress
    * 1976 – Jayson Blair, American journalist and author
    * 1976 – Ricardo Zonta, Brazilian race car driver
    * 1977 – Jean Carlos Gamarra, Peruvian taekwondo practitioner
    * 1977 – Miklos Perlus, Canadian voice actor
    * 1978 – Perez Hilton, American blogger and television persona
    * 1978 – Walter Samuel, Argentine footballer
    * 1978 – Nicholle Tom, American actress
    * 1979 – Natalya Baranovskaya, Belarusian swimmer
    * 1979 – Mark Buehrle, American baseball player
    * 1979 – Misty Hyman, American swimmer
    * 1979 – Donncha O’Callaghan, Irish rugby player
    * 1980 – Russell Howard, British comedian
    * 1980 – Itay tiran, Israeli actor
    * 1981 – Luciana Carro, Canadian actress
    * 1981 – Erin Crocker, American race car driver
    * 1981 – Tony Peña, Jr., Dominican baseball player
    * 1982 – José Raúl Contreras, Chilean footballer
    * 1983 – Jerome Thomas, English footballer
    * 1985 – Maurice Jones-Drew, American football player
    * 1986 – Andrea Dovizioso, Italian motorcycle racer
    * 1986 – Steven Strait, American actor
    * 1990 – Princess Eugenie of York
    * 1990 – Jaime Alguersuari, Spanish racing driver
    * 1995 – Jan Lisiecki, Canadian pianist
    * 1997 – Aidan Davis, Britain’s Got Talent finalist

  • MEDIC!!!

    Ok, now that I’m awake and after watching the USA lose to Canada in the Gold Metal Game of Olympic Hockey , I’ll give you all an update on the last couple of days.

    The Radiothon for CMN went good. We raised $225K and still have the largest radiothon per capita in the US & Canada.

    But at the tail end of the Radiothon I was on my last legs.  As we were finishing up the show, a wood plaque and a dry erase board fell from the mini castle we were broadcasting from in the South Plains Mall knocking me dizzy.

    After the show was over, since I had been coughing up green phlem and some blood, my darling wife Joanna and co-worker Amy got me to the ER.

    I have a tradition of being the first at the Radiothon and the last out.  I couldn’t do it this year.

    After CAT-Scan and X-ray’s and other tests the doc told me the following :

    Mr Donahue, you have a hole in your left eardrum (which would explain my lack of balance the last three days), you are dehydrated, you have a concussion , you are exhausted, your blood pressure is higher than normal and you have a case of severe bronchitis (which would explain why I have no voice). You need to rest.

    So after getting medication and waking up to watch hockey (tail end of third period and OT) and now to tell my mom not to worry. I’m heading back to bed.

    I’m probably going to be there till at least Tuesday.

    Thanks to all of you for your calls and texts.

    I’m ok, just did what I usually do, pour my heart into my work.