Author Archives: Michael Arce

Andrew

I’m trying to work, but I can’t.  I’m angry, confused.  I feel everything and I feel nothing, all at the same time.

Just like that, without explanation or warning, my friend Andrew was gone.  And all I have left is the fortunate ability to remember to keep myself composed.

We came up at the Village Fitness Center together.  When I first met him, he came in as a new member at the gym, and I was with the Service Desk.  He was a skinny kid right before, and as I like to joke, the gamma ray accident turned him into the Hulk that everyone knew and loved.  In reality, he was extremely dedicated and focused at his craft, and the physical feats he reached are proof of this.

Shortly he began an internship and eventually became a certified personal trainer with the VFC Family.  After garnering success, he took his work to other locations within the company – Federal Fitness, Avalon Bay, and Fillmore to name a few.  After several great years with us, he moved to Los Angeles, and found more success in the fitness industry.  The sky was the limit for Andrew, and everyone that knew him believed this with complete certainty.

One of the best memories I have with Andrew was Halloween, had to have been close to six years ago.  We were at a party in the city, and I’m pretty sure that, and this is something that happened way to often than it should during this previous version of myself, I forgot many of the details toward the end of the night.

But I do remember this – I was a cop.  Aviator shades, vest, and two colorful water guns.  There were other cops with me, and we looked really cool. I’m talking about other-side-of-the-pillow cool, trust me.

Not as cool as Andrew, though.  He waltzes in as Akuma from the Street Fighter video games.  He had it down to the details – the attire, the wraps, and of course, the muscles.  The guy was built like a statue, and it was safe to say he stole the show.

Andrew wasn’t much of a drinker then, in fact I don’t think he ever had one up to that time.  Until, this Halloween party.  Maybe he was intimidated by my water guns (that probably shot out a liquid that rhymes with Pequila later in the night), maybe it was my pheromones that eventually changed his mind, or maybe – and this is what I will believe – maybe it’s because he loved me like a brother, and because of this, he was going to have a drink with me.

And yes, I loved him, too.

We go to the bar, and I tell Andrew, “F&#% it man, bring your boys too. I got all of you.”  Side bar, when I drink, everyone drinks.  That’s my own little life rule.

“Four Jameson shots my good dude,” I tell the bartender.  We toast to… something.  Maybe we toasted to being gym rats, or to friendship, or to the Akuma character, or to the fact that the Giants were one more game away from winning their first World Series in the San Francisco era.  We took it like champs, hugged and high-fived like bros, and took more photos at the photo booth in the other room because we were that much full of ourselves.  Andrew then tells me, “That was my first shot in my life.”

I bought Andrew’s very first shot, and I truly take that as a high honor.  They say that you never forget your firsts, and I hope this rings true with Andrew.  Because I will never forget him.

You always think that life gives you chances for another round, but that’s never the case.  This is another reminder that the only chances in life are the ones you take.

As I remember Andrew, I am reminded how unpredictable all of this is, and that anything can be taken away at any given time.  I’m reminded to continue to take those chances every day, no matter how big or small, because just how Andrew easily displayed, greatness is manifested from those with the will to win, not from those who are afraid to fail.

I am reminded to continue to live in the honor for those we’ve all lost in our lives, and pave the way for others after us to adopt the same.  The best thing in this world is what we have between each other.  Not of things made of matter, but things that matter – conversations, moments, laughs, undocumented sights, and unrecorded sounds.

This is the privilege of remembrance, and Andrew – my colleague, my former co-worker, and most of all, my good friend – it has been an amazing privilege to have had you in my life.

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Sneakers

Recently, I’ve been purchasing shoes at an alarming rate, and for the life of me, I don’t know why (I lied, maybe I do.  But I won’t admit it here).   During my last year of college, I ignored all the pairs of Jordans I owned and gave my attention to one pair of Timberland boots, and one pair of PF Flyers.  Those two saw a lot of miles while my other sneakers collected dust and either found new owners or the bottom of old Avon boxes.

Fast forward to the current, I have three large bins over-filled with shoes – all collected within the last 12 months – and everything from boots, casual, dress, mostly sneakers, and my Currys.

And yes, my Currys deserve its own category.

I had the fortunate opportunity to disrupt this behavior from a kid that needed new shoes.  He has two younger siblings and they are all cared for by their single father.  Without going into the details, times have been rough for this family.  And I’ve been there before, literally in those same shoes.  Shoes with holes, without heels, without traction.  Shoes that should no longer be worn anymore.

The next day I went through my bins and pulled several pairs that were good for a growing 8th grader.  I had them delivered over to him, hoping it would suffice both his needs and wants.  What I appreciated most from this was having the feeling of not wanting anything back.  I’ve been buying one new pair after another, but on a drop of a dime I parted with some of them because kids deserve to run, catch, shoot, throw, and dive; they’re limited to those necessities without a simple pair of shoes.

A few days later I received very genuine letter of appreciation from him.  Before a tear could roll from my eye I’m reminded of a simple life rule I’ve adopted and lived by: don’t be the dick in the crowd that catches a foul ball and doesn’t give it to a kid.

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Letter received for the sneakers provided.

No matter what goals you are in pursuit of or what you live for, keep in mind that ever single thing you do make up the fabric that our youth will wear on their backs.  So feed tradition, teach compassion, encourage necessary mistakes, forgive faults, ignite success, instill better, laugh a lot, and love even more.

If we make enough of our own luck, they won’t be keeping any baseballs for themselves, either.

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Force

“Use The Force.”

There isn’t anything any more relevant than Star Wars right now, and rightfully so.  But don’t worry, before I move on, I want to let you know that this isn’t going to be about a galaxy far, far away explaining Jedis v. Siths.  Quite frankly, I wouldn’t even know how, nor do I have a care to.  I’m keeping this in our own little rock in the universe.

But I have been curious about “The Force.”  More so, I always find interest in blurring the lines between fantasy and reality, fiction and fact, Thelma and Louise even (if I’m intoxicated enough).  I question the following, “What is The Force?  In the way it is depicted in the films (violently at times), it does not exist in our reality – but can it?  If not now, then when?  Wait, what if it IS real?  What if we can use The Force today?  How would it be, what would it look like, how would it feel?”

To further the dialogue, let’s create a twist in the plot.  Let’s say The Force does exist.  Today.  Right now.  Flowing to and from, travelling with the air we currently breathe.  So how do we make sense of it?  How can we latch onto something we find every day, in various doses and strengths, to help explain it?  What would be the one thing we understand today that closely relates to The Force?

How about… attraction.

There’s different understandings, and two that I know of.  There’s the Law of Attraction, which, in a nutshell, means “like attracts like.”  Then there’s “opposites attract,” which, on a sub-atomic level, explains that protons (positively charged particles) like to get cozy and warm with neutrons (negatively charged particles).  Yes, I remember grade school science, and you should, too.

I would then further the consideration that The Force would involve both laws, that we can both attract the opposite, and we can attract the like.  Make no mistake – either way, the attraction exists, and it exists in many layers.

Attraction – specifically this one particular attraction – cannot be ignored.  It cannot be masked, there’s absolutely nowhere to hide.  This attraction cannot be fooled into believing it is a mistake.  More often than not I attempt to convince myself otherwise, that this attraction can be fought, and I must fight against it.  Yet how does that make any sense, when everything I have felt about you has taught me everything I’ve needed to defeat lingering demons of past months, past years?  Like a melody and a chorus, it would only feel utterly wrong if the two were kept apart.

So then, I have to pretend, don’t I?  I have to pretend that fighting against you is what I want to do.  I have to pretend that I don’t feel nervous in your presence.  I have to pretend that I am not foolish, even when I have already come to terms that I’m the best fool I know.

And I have to pretend that I hate the way you look at me.  And I really hate that.

Attraction, while it has done much pushing and pulling, has not brought about any staying power between you and I.  Definitely not now.  Probably not tomorrow, or next week.  I don’t know when – hell, if ever – and I’m not going to count the time.  All I want to feel right now, is that it will happen.  But I’ll make sure to pretend that I don’t want that, either.

The Force is strong with her.

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Air

To have life, we need energy.  To gain energy, we need air.  To have air, we need to breathe.  In order to breathe, we need life.

It’s always easier to understand life when you can make it into a circle (cue Lion King music here) – its actions and reactions constantly giving and taking.  All circles are different, and none of them are perfect.  While they differ in size, shape, depth, color, and gradient, every circle can make an impact.

Last week, I had the honor to meet a beautiful baby girl named Leona.  She was born in the early evening of a late August day in Palo Alto as the daughter of not only two great friends of mine, but two of the kindest souls I know – Mac and Kim.  I must admit that prior to meeting Leona, I was rabid with excitement, nervousness, pride, fear – while I felt everything, I knew nothing.

All I knew, was to breathe.

When I arrived to the hospital, it didn’t feel like a hospital, and I really liked that.  After a few hours of catching up with Leona’s parents and other friends, it was my turn to see her.  All those uncontrollable feelings came back again and any senses of calm I gathered before dissipated.  So, I leaned back on what I knew, back to the basics: breathing.

Mac led me to another room to Leona.  I checked in, turned a few corners, and ensured that I applied enough antibacterial on my quaking hands.  After treading through showering sounds of beeping machines, overlaying voices of nurses, and a handful of other crying babies in the room, I was finally in the grace of Leona’s presence.  And the moment I laid my eyes on Mac and Kim’s daughter, in absolutely every sense I was swept off my feet.

Leona moved, albeit in small doses, with curiosity.  Her scent was sweet and refreshing.  She was unburdened with worries and new to earth, and in this moment with Leona she made me feel what I can only imagine what she felt – unsusceptible to gravity.  Most of all, Leona was full of might.  More might than I can ever gain in my lifetime, more might than I have seen from a team of champions.

Leona’s story, unfortunately, is one with complications.  She required the aid of a machine to breathe, and the burden of this condition on Leona and her parents is one I will never be able to fathom.  She fought and defied every single odd that went against her and her family.  She made every play on the field, threw every pitch with pinpoint perfection, and had a batting average of 1.000 at the plate.

She did it all.  And she did so, for seven days.

My one and only meeting I will ever have with Leona is on repeat in my memories.  While she was not granted a full life, she put on a dazzling display of courage over fear, and risk over regret.  We are reminded that life is short, whether it be seven days or seventy years.  And in that time, while life simply means that you’re breathing, the meaning of life depends on what you do in between the breaths that you take.  This is the story of Mighty Leona, a story that will never end.

All that might, she got from her parents.

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