Tag Archives: NaBloPoMo

RIP: Señor Stan Schneck

For my lunch break today I took a scary ride on my motorcycle to Eudora.

The wind was blowing something fierce, but I was undeterred to make the trek. And for whatever reason, I decided to head there via I-70, taking the new Eudora exit to come in the north way into town. As I approached our neighbor to the east, I passed by the former home of Señor Stan’s Salsa.

The place looked a little run down from the last time I saw it in 2001. That didn’t surprise me much. I had heard Stan Schneck moved his operations from the little shack he had based his operations out of when I first met him. His pride and joy – a wonderful salsa that got its start here in Douglas County – had grown up. You could find Señor Stan’s Salsa at many grocers in the region and I often saw it when I was shopping in Hy-Vee here in Lawrence.

Tonight I heard some sad news: Señor Stan passed away Nov. 1 from complications of liver cancer.

Stan’s friend’s mother, of Mexican heritage, taught him how to make salsa, so he scratched his own itch. He wasn’t satisfied with other salsas and decided to give it a go himself. The dude was great to speak with. I love to be around anyone who is truly passionate about something, and Stan was really into salsa. He lived and breathed that stuff. It was as much a part of his essence as his own skin.

Stan’s product had an impact on a friend of mine who also died of cancer last year, Brandon White. Brandon loved, and I mean LOVED, the Jayhawks, and one night as were discussing excellent game-watching food, he mentioned that Señor Stan’s Salsa was his favorite.

Man, cancer is a real bitch.

I think the thing to take away from Stan Schneck’s life is this: find something you’re madly passionate about and go after it. As I mentioned yesterday, time is a precious, finite thing we’re given. Stan took his passion and did amazingly well for a little operation from Kansas. He touched other people’s lives with a flavorful concoction of all things, salsa.

Go do something amazing. Honor the memories of those who took a chance on themselves by taking a chance on yourself. You never know how much time you have left. Make it count.

Related: Chips Not Included from The Eudora News.

Regret

On Memorial Day weekend, I was crazy enough to pack the family up and head out to Clinton Lake for a little picnic.

The place was packed. I’ve not seen that many people out at the lake in a long time. We only planned to eat lunch out there and then play around a little, but once we got there Ember, my oldest, saw the beach, and wanted to explore a little further. My wife and I didn’t pack any swimsuits for us or our two girls, but we took off our socks and shoes and walked down the shoreline of the sandy, manmade lake. After a bit of fun, we packed up and headed home, but I told Ember we’d come back to play again in proper form.

Sadly, we never made the time to make it back out. Life got busy for us this summer. We purchased our first house in May, moved in, and then spent a lot of time getting the place ready for my wife to launch her new in-home preschool, Tiny Tykes Playcare.

And before we knew it, the summer was over.

On Sunday, I took my motorcycle out for a ride around Clinton Lake, and decided to stop in at Bloomington Beach where we had picnicked. It was cold and overcast. I spotted a lone sandal, left behind like a talisman for warmer, more enjoyable times. The cold wind coming off the water cut through me. The grey of the sky make the place look bleak. There were only a few others out there, stopping only for a second to see if the bathrooms to open or let their dogs out to run around a bit. They all left quickly, perhaps deciding, liked I did, that the fun times were over for this recreational spot.

I felt terrible, but not from the cold. I was filled with regret that I didn’t make good on my word that we would come back out and enjoy some family time at the lake.

Regret is one of those things that people don’t seem to want to admit they have. You hear it all the time, that familiar phrase, “I’ve lived a life without regrets.” Or perhaps another one, “I don’t have any regrets.”

I think that’s crap.

I have plenty of regrets. I regret how I gave in to peer pressure and failed to treat a half-black biracial classmate with dignity. I reget taking out student loans when I didn’t need to so I could purchase band gear, gaming gear and other stuff that’s long gone. I regret waiting so long to be part of my local community; 10 years to get to know this town more intimately was way too long.

And now I regret not taking Ember back to the lake. Words really cannot adequately express the reget I have about this.

The idea I’m trying to incorporate into my mindset these days is how finite time is. Time cannot be saved to be stored up for a rainy day. Time burns on for each of us until it doesn’t. I’m really trying to be more cognizant of this.

And yet, I won’t shy away from reget. I feel it’s important to embrace the things I wish I would have done differently, with the hope it’ll lead me to make better decisions with the time I have left.

Shameful words

Election season really brings out the nasties in a lot of people.

Probably the worst thing I hear during the election season is that people who don’t vote aren’t “real Americans,” or that they “should be ashamed.”

When it comes to freedom of speech, I think we all pretty much understand that everyone has the right to speak his or her mind even if we don’t agree with it. We believe this so much, we’ve come up with the phrase “agree to disagree” to help us cope with the understanding that we’ll not always see eye to eye on issues, but at least the issues are open to debate.

When it comes to voting, a type of political zealotry keeps hate speech flowing.

There are plenty of reasons to not vote. Depending on your viewpoints and the political landscape of where you live, your vote might not count after all. Your effort at the ballot box might have been wasted. Let’s call this what it is: the election process isn’t fair. If it was, everyone’s voice would be heard and everyone would get a say. Elections are a popularity contest, often fueled by machines driven by money and corporations.

But just because someone exercises their right not to vote doesn’t make him less of an American. It doesn’t make her shameful.

What is shameful, however, are the words of those who have made politics their religion.

Barely-organized chaos

Lately my life has been a barely organized state of chaos.

It’s easy to blame the disarray on family life – it certainly doesn’t make it easy – though it seems as though there are plenty in similar situations who have their act together.

Or perhaps I’m being fooled by what I think I see in others.

Nevertheless, I hate being like this.

Why can’t I gain some semblance of an organized life? Am I afraid that routine would eat away at what I perceive is my creative core? Would organization free me from this cage (as I have been told), or will it only make every day exactly the same?

I really need to find a solution to this. It’s really starting to get to me.