George Is Gheorghey

Last night I saw a fantastic musical performance, just a young man and a guitar.  It lasted only one song, but that was enough.

George Dennehy played at my organization's annual meeting in Newport News, VA.  The 19-year-old tells a compelling story.

George was born in Romania.  A Romanian named George -- that there is Gheorghey in and of itself.  Add to that that he was adopted by parents in Richmond, VA when he was just an infant because his parents couldn't properly care for him in his homeland.  He grew up feeling (and being treated as) different than most kids but learned to play music, and somewhere along the way, his story caught the attention of local press, The Goo Goo Dolls (with whom he has played live), and now media outlets everywhere.

It's a cool success story for anyone.  But here's the kicker that makes it unbelievable . . .

George Dennehy was born without arms.


He plays guitar (and cello, bass guitar, piano, and whatever else he can find) as he does most everything else for which people might assume you need arms and hands -- with his feet.  He's incredibly skilled, and it's no exaggeration to say that I've been playing guitar in my spare time for 15 years, and he's far better with his toes than I'll ever be with my fingers.  He's also an unassuming, grateful, and inspirational young fellow with great big doses of perspective to share with every story he relates about his life.

The nonprofit where I work supports people with disabilities of all kinds, and the beauty of this place is that on any given day you can see the kind of thing you wouldn't expect to see, no matter how long you've been here.  Preconceived notions about the nature of disabilities are trashed here on a daily basis, and George Dennehy did just that once again yesterday as he played for a couple hundred mesmerized people with other types of disabilities (the ones officially diagnosed as well as the ones the rest of us have).

This video is well worth watching, and if you ever get a chance to see him play live, please do it.



Cross-Platform Marketing: Footy Filler

If you're Facebook friends with me, you've already seen this. Suck it up.

As I have for the past 5 years or so, I coached my daughter's soccer team this season. The Cheetahs are a great group of kids, but they're somewhat size-challenged, and were a whole lot of unlucky in the Spring 2012 campaign. We entered our last game of the season 0-6, losers of four one-goal games.

I'm nothing if not a skilled motivator, so I offered the girls this challenge: if they won, they'd get to paint my toenails any color(s) of their choice. And on a gorgeous Spring morning, despite falling behind 1-0 in the game's opening seconds, the Cheetahs pounced. Each of the five girls in attendance scored, with one kid tallying the first two goals of her soccer career. The Cheetahs topped the Eagles by a 7-3 count.

I'm a man of my word:

 

An Idiot's World Cup Preview

I freely and routinely admit that I’m an idiot. I don't understand a lot of things. Things like string theory, the Dave Matthews Band's popularity, Basque, calendars, short stocky women who wear knee-high boots, the iPad, the appeal of items decorated with Burberry plaid or those weird Gucci and Louis Vuitton logos, why people buy Saturns, the factors that led to World War I, people who aren't lactose intolerant but nevertheless don't like cheese, Sarah Palin, the midget in front of me at Obama's motorcade, Flemish sours, the DC area's snow removal policy or lack thereof, the evolution of the Supreme Court's commerce clause jurisprudence, religion, transplant surgery, how anyone ever came up with the idea for circumcision and said "eh, let's give it a try and see if it pans out," the telegraph, telephones, television, telekinesis, kinases, knitting, silent k's, why the "g" is silent in "gnat" but not in "gnu," and the final scene of the final episode of the Sopranos.

And soccer. I just don't get it. It seems like everyone around the world is head-over-heels* in love with soccer. I’ve tried to watch but it’s just terrible. Nothing happens. I thought the problem was that I just don’t understand the finer points of the game, or that I haven’t seen an excellent display of soccer prowess. So I looked around on the ghooghles for some soccer clips and I found “The Goal of the Century.” Should be pretty amazing right? It has to be! It’s The Goal of the Century!! Wanna see it? Here it is:



I still don’t get soccer. Particularly if this is the best soccer-related occurrence in the last 100 years.

But with the World Cup nigh upon us I felt that I should try to adopt a team to root for. The US team was a logical choice until I looked at the roster. The closest thing to a zman on the team is "Jonathan Spector." It might be fun to root for Herculez Gomez because then I can yell "Herk-a-LEEZ! Herk-a-LEEZ!" like in the Nutty Professor. But they'll probably lose early so I need another team if I want to follow one deep into the tournament.

So I sloppily searched the FIFA World Cup site for zmen. It appears that there isn’t a single Zoltan to be found on anyone’s roster. Slovakia has a Zdenko and a Zabavnik. The Serbs really bring the zheat: Zeljko, Zdravko, Zoran, and Zigic all rock the kokarda. Ivory Coast has some dude named Didier Zokora which seems cool at first but I'll wind up making "Didier, I hardly know her" jokes and that gets old fast. Brazil has no zmen, probably because they're a bunch of fatherless bastards - about 69% of the team has no last name. One Brazilian is named "Grafite;" maybe he's into mechanical pencils? Cameroon has a Zoua and cool jerseys but I can't find their country on a map. Slovenia has a Zlatko AND a Zlatan, and I work with a cool guy from Slovenia so they have good watercooler potential. The Nordic teams have no zmen but they have tons of names with no consonants, as opposed to the central Europeans who would like to buy some vowels.

Accordingly, I'm rooting for the Slovenians. I understand that they may be even worse than the US team, which means my approach to finding a team that can go deep in the tournament is less than scientifically sound. But this also means I'll likely have an excuse to stop watching the World Cup without having to admit I don't understand why it's entertaining or even interesting.

I'll try to drum up more information on the Slovenian squadron from my inside source. Keep an eye out for some Slovenian/Ghostface crossover fillah.

*I also don’t understand the phrase “head-over-heels.” My head is always over my heels unless I’m executing a bicycle kick. Which will never happen.

Lame Excuses for Posting Pictures of My Feet

G:TB readers in Virginia's 8th Congressional District will be delighted to know that they reside in America's longest-lived jurisdiction, according to the folks at measureofamerica.org.












Since I'm stuck out in Frank Wolf's 10th District, my strategy for reducing stress and adding a few precious months to the grand total looks a lot like this, which not so coincidentally reminds me where I'd so much rather be right now than my current deskbound location: