So it begins: 2012 is upon us and my race season pretty much starts today.  Like, right now--with this blog entry.  It's my first and there's a lot to cover, so I apologize for the length.

Today is a special day.  Not just because I woke up to a voice mail from Tarik that my new bike had arrived at Honda Suzuki of Salt Lake, but because it's my Grandma Cal's birthday.  I call this day Saint Margaret's Day, because she was the most honest, genuine, honorable, and accepting person I have ever been fortunate enough to know.  I am not a religious person like she was, but I sensed a wisdom and compassion in her that made me believe she had a bat-phone straight to God's office and possessed an understanding of the way things are supposed to be far beyond all of us.  I never really prayed to God, but after she died, I prayed to her.  At first (and this is the truth), I thought that might affect her relationship with God in the afterlife--you know, like the headline band getting shown up by the opening act.  But so many Christians say God is perfect, so I figured He's likely incapable of such a significant sin as "Envy" (one of the seven deadly ones according to Kevin Spacey).  So, I'm pretty sure we're good.

I was on a plane the other day and sat next to a woman that was returning home after attending a friend's Celebration of Life Ceremony.  I actually didn't know what she was talking about, but she explained it was a party to celebrate the life of a friend that passed away because of cancer.  The ceremony was notably different from a funeral, because it took place months after her friend passed away--allowing people to schedule the party well in advance and not have to deal with the stresses of last-minute traveling necessary to attend normal funerals.  She also said funerals aren't enjoyable.  Yeah, I get it.  But my thoughts instantly shifted to Grandma Cal's funeral.

Yes, me and my girlfriend had to drop everything and hop a plane at the last minute, but I barely remember that.  Yes, the funeral was tough, because everyone was shocked and didn't know quite how to reconcile a death that just occurred.  But I don't really remember that either.  Actually, what I do remember is that my grandma's funeral was one of the most inspiring days of my life.  It was at that moment that I actually saw how many people she touched.  The funeral party absolutely packed the chapel.  Friends, family, neighbors, ex-husbands of her daughters, even some of her kid's ex-boyfriends and ex-girlfirends from back in the day.  It seems that everyone she met couldn't help but be affected by her.  Even the priest, who didn't know her in life, was humbled by the attendance of such a number of people.

As the priest finished his prayers and blessings, he asked that people wishing to say something about Margaret Callahan feel free to stand and speak.  After a couple seconds, a woman stood up and introduced herself as Rita, Rita Queen.  Rita had only met my grandma once in person.  She walked past grandma's house on her daily walks and the two ladies would wave to each other; my grandma inside the house through the front window or on the porch and Rita on the sidewalk outside.  This went on for years.  A few months before my grandma died, Rita felt compelled to come up to the house and finally introduce herself.  The two met and talked for a short while.  Shortly thereafter, my grandma had to go to the hospital for a back injury and ended up staying for a few days.  Rita, after not seeing my grandma in her usual place inside the house left a get-well card in the mailbox.  Some time later, when my grandma unexpectedly passed away, the immediate family started the process of notifying loved ones.  One of my aunts found the get-well card and said, "Oh, Rita--this was the lady that mom would wave to everyday; the one that came up to the house a little while ago.  We need to get a hold of her!"  There was no contact info on the card, not even a last name.  Phone calls were made to other aunts that met Rita and one of them remembered her last name.  Some phonebook searching got a number and address that was probably Rita's.  No one answered the phone and there was no voicemail, so another of my aunts drove over and dropped a letter in Rita's mailbox notifying her of the funeral the next day.  After that, Rita was out of mind, as there were more people to notify and funeral preparations to complete.

But here we are, at the funeral service and the first person to stand up and speak of how Margaret Callahan touched their lives was Rita.  A woman that had only spoken to my grandma once.  That moment showed me how important it is to live life with respect, compassion, humility, love, and enjoyment--for one's own sake and also for the sake of others.  I aspire to be that kind of person; in life, in work, in racing.

I know you're thinking, "WTF does this have to do with racing?"  I guess it has more to do with understanding what life is about.  No, life's not about racing (I'm not that shallow), but it's about taking inventory of what's important and making sure those things are fulfilled.  My grandma didn't want me to ride motorcycles.  They are dangerous and she was afraid I would get killed.  Despite that, she didn't hesitate to say yes when I asked if she would loan me money to buy my first motorcycle when I was in college.  I didn't have to beg; she knew owning a motorcycles was a dream of mine and for her to be a part of realizing that dream far outweighed the risk that I could kill myself on the thing.  I ended up not killing myself and have been able to live my passion for motorcycles ever since then.

So here I am now.  2012 and I'm entering my third consecutive season racing with the Masters of the Mountains series and riding a brand new Honda CBR600.  This year is truly one that I am so grateful for.  Tarik and Honda Suzuki of Salt Lake has come on board as a major supporter this year.  He's very passionate about two-wheels (he's an ex-racer and wicked fast) and wants nothing more than to see the sportbike (street, trackday, and racing) scene in Utah grow back into what it was back in the heyday.  This sport is the coolest one in the world and, though it's sometimes hard to justify the expense in the context of life's "responsibilities", at some point we're too old, too broke, or too dead to enjoy stuff like riding motorcycles fast.  That's  my philosophy anyway.  Regrets are way more costly to me than a few thousand dollars less in the bank account.

Thanks to everyone that's come into the inner-circle and inspired me to do what I do.  Thanks to Tarik and the HSSL crew.  Thanks especially to Carrie for being there for everything and encouraging me to take the step to start racing for real.  And, if you read through this whole thing--you're a saint, THANK YOU!  Here's to a fun time in 2012.  More later!

Cheers!
-jerry