From what I understand, Mr. Frazier almost demanded this piece be entered into the art show. 

Comprised of students from all levels of VUSD, Squeak again had a piece submitted at the urging of a teacher.

It's stunning.

We all get ideas from the things we see, other artists, nature, images in our minds, faces we've seen.

But to be able to produce something like this with your own two hands.

It's a gift from the Universe.  The Sacred.

It is said that a great artist, spanning any discipline, has the most direct connection to the divine we know of.  

In ways that words defy.

I long to feel that.

My child already does.

First place.

It's not the accolade, it's the channeling of raw ability into a beautiful, finished piece.

A work of art.

I'm so proud of my little one. <3

I just loved every minute of it.

I sat next to Audrey and Kalea.

I have a lot of good memories in the Buena Auditorium for some reason.  I remember seeing plays there (Dracula, One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Next, etc), along with high school music concerts.  It's just a happy venue for me.

To hear my daughter's name called several times, along with all of her friends, brought me such joy.

If I remember, she got Magna Cum Laude, an award for community service hours, a scholarship award, and likely something else I can't remember right now.

Here's her community service award...

Her Magna Cum Laude...

And her pre-event photo...

So proud of this child.  And I'm proud of the company she keeps with Jane, Emma and Audrey.  All 4 women of power!

Another one for the ages. :) 

Just in case the future aliens that come to this planet, that happen to come across this secret blog wonder how fit Dan Eggertsen was, and how much he could bench at 53 years old.

Here's the answer... or is it?

I do remember being afraid of the bench and did not want to force any last rep of 240# due to me wanting to stay alive and not get trapped under a bar...

DAY 2 — UPPER STRENGTH + HYPERTROPHY

Warm-up

Easy bike — 2:00

2 rounds:

Band pull-aparts — 10
Scap push-ups — 8
Push-ups — 8
Empty-bar rows — 8

Rest 30 sec between rounds

Empty-bar bench — 2 x 5, rest 30 sec

Workout

A. Bench Press

225 x 5
230 x 4
235 x 4
240 x 3
240 x 3
Rest:
2:00 after 225 and 230
2:30 after 235
3:00 before and after 240 sets
Goal: get slightly more work below 240 so the top sets feel less expensive

RESULTS: Could not get this done safely.  Here’s what I did do: 225 X 5, 230 X 4, 235 X 3, 240 X 2, 240 X 2.

B. Chest-Supported DB Row

4 x 8
Sets 1-3 @ 62s
Set 4 @ 70s x 6-8 only if first 3 sets were very clean
Rest 75-90 sec
Goal: keep clean volume and touch higher loading selectively

RESULTS: Got it done, 70’s tough but got them.

C. Incline DB Press

Set 1: 70 x 6
Set 2: 62 x 10
Set 3: 62 x 10
Rest 90 sec
Goal: make set 3 cleaner than last week

RESULTS: Done, set 2 and 3 last few reps were tough.

D. Half-Kneeling 1-Arm DB Press

4 sets
Set 1: 35 x 8/side
Set 2: 35 x 8/side
Set 3: 44 x 6/side
Set 4: 35 x 8/side
Rest 20 sec between sides
Rest 60 sec between sets
Goal: expose you to 44 without forcing bad reps

RESULTS: Set 3 with the 44s I could only get 5/side.  Got all the rest though.

E. Cable Face Pull

3 x 15
Rest 30 sec
Goal: shoulder health, rear delts, scap control

RESULTS: Used 95# cable face pull, and got all reps but had to rest a minute between each to get them.  Very tough at the end.

In this old photo, circa 1979/1980, you an see me (possibly picking my nose... lovely!), my sister, and my cousin.

I think we are at Great America in Santa Clara, California.

Days of innocence, which is not a rare thing for young children with reasonably good families.

Sure we had our troubles... our spoiled tirades... our anxieties.  But life was good.  We were cared for.

We were taken on rides, given treats, and love.

The best part of this picture is my grandfather, Grandpa Malloway, standing in the distance, keeping watchful eye on us with a smile.

He passed away in 1990 in his late 60's I believe.

WWII veteran, and "gruff grandpa" with a smile and a wink.

He taught me to shoot skeet, hit targets, and load powder and shot into used shotgun shells to make our own ammunition.

He'd jokingly hold his fist up at me and say, in his gruff way, "Eggertsen, one of these days... right in the chops." as he'd slowly shake his fist.

He was an entrepreneur for life, owing and operating a grocery store back in the day, and then a liquor store which he eventually passed on/sold to my uncle(s).

Each day he'd come home from the store, he'd have rolls of life savers in hand to give us.

And he'd store extra inventory of sodas in his garage, stacked up so high!  We'd climb around and play on them for hours in the mysterious, dankly lit garage.

A great grandpa.  He loved us.  We loved him.  Still do.  He was gone too soon.  Fond memories.

It was fairly warm, as I remember it.

We set off, after waiting for Jen to go to the bathroom in the parking lot, up to the trail with Walt leading the charge as always.

He just insists on being FIRST.  Until he looks back and realizes there are laggers.

Then he insists and waiting for everyone to catch up.

This is how Walt operates.

It was a good 2 hour hike, and the views of Ventura are always awesome when you're in the hills.

I love these girls, all 3 of them, and little Walty.

These are moments I will always miss when time gets especially brutal.  As it has been known to do.

Just have to suck it all in, and keep a log of it.

Hence, this secret blog.

Yes, Universe, I was here.

We did this, and I loved it.

Would it still matter in the annals of time should I not digitally record it?  Thousands of years from now when this speck of dust in time has long been forgotten by all souls.  Our identities lost in history, would this matter?  Would it have any effect,,. on anything?  Would it still have any meaning?

I can't be sure.  So I post. Maybe someone 1,000 years in the future will stumble upon this and feel something for it.  Then it will matter once more....

14 years old, a mouth full of braces, and very little exposure to the real world -- not to mention women.

Tall, tan, and beautiful.

Jenine.

I couldn't stop thinking about her.

She was in one of my classes for most of the year, until she transferred into another class.

But that didn't stop me from looking for her as I wandered campus with my few friends.

We all had crushes. And a couple of us talked about it.  A lot.

I remember the confidence and hope building in the dead of night.

Riding bikes in the evening at night can be a sort of dream world where anything is possible.

Talking about the future, the crushes, the daydreams, the "what if's".

It all made getting a girlfriend so "possible".

Until then sun rose on the next day, and we ventured to high school to great reality once again.

It wasn't so easy for us.

Hope typically faded during the days... until the night time riders would float across city streets again.

One day, my mind convinced me I had a chance.

We passed in the halls and I took a chance and looked at her.  She glanced back at me, and then quickly looked away.  As she passed, I took another chance and looked back, and she was whispering something to her friend.

Who knows what those whispers, lost in time, were.  Even she likely doesn't know.  Nobody does.

It was my first real crush.  A huge crush.

I never spoke to her.  She never spoke to me.

Sometimes hope in the night hours is enough.  It often is.  

The next year (sophomore year) she was gone with the wind.  Transferred.  Moved.  I'll never know.

I do hope all has gone well for my first crush, in this life...