Marine Corps Marathon: "Dead Men's Hollow"

Dead Men's Hollow is DC's own multi-award-winning Bluegrass and Old-timey Gospel band. After running through the monotonous and lonely Hains Point, it sure was nice to hear them perform.

Only one complaint: I asked for a CD, and they didn't bring any. Next time...

Restoring Sanity: Which Train Will You Board

It was supposed to be another DC Rally, and living here for nine years, I've been to a bunch of them.

But this time, in the midst of a historic and game-changing Midterm elections, this "Restoring Sanity" Rally trumped all the others, including sorry Glen, the highly-political Restoring Honor Rally just two months prior.

As usual, both Colbert and Stewart had full of jokes and tricks, particularly noteworthy was the feud between Cat Stevens singing "Peace Train", and Ozzy Osbourne singing "Crazy Train."

Not able to agree, the two finally settled on the ubiquitous "Love Train."

What is the best thing I like about attending a peace rally -- not the keynote speakers, but the people from different background and faiths coming together to share and to listen. This never happens at other events: Sporting, Concerts, Festivals. Normally, people keep to themselves. At Peace Festivals, People talk and swap stories.

"When the Saints Go Marching In"

A little bit of Southern Gospel and a little bit of Folk, but a whole lot of energy and freedom at the National Mall

Restore Sanity: Gretchen Wears Her Art

There were thousands of bright, enthusiastic and creative people at the Mall, but only a few that were as talented as Gretchen and her family.

During the rally, there were many metaphors. After all, it was Halloween, and costumes representing peace, love and community abound.

Even Colbert and Stewart sparred playfully over the metaphor of trains (Love, Crazy and Peace).

The point of the rally was that despite the liberalism, we were all one people after one common cause.

Mick Foley, perhaps said it best. If he spotted anyone being less than reasonable, he would "Jump out there like a righteous bolt of thunder and ask you to be polite to each other."

Restore Insanity: "Free Market Kissing Booth"

Two ingenious men, a little crazy, but with a hilarious message of capitalism, dabble in free market economy by selling the only talent they can piece together -- a peck on the cheek or ahem, the lips, in exchange for currency.

Although, a monopoly, the supply exceeds the demand. And the demand is very elastic.  Perhaps further incentives is needed to make this profitable.

Man Bikes from Wisconsin to Florida with Guitar

Marty loves his country. He loves America so much that he is giving up everything to ride his bike across America.  Carrying just a knapsack and an acoustic guitar.

He's heading south now towards Miami.  Best of luck to Marty -- I'm sure he'll get to meet a lot of interesting people on the way.

Arena Stage is Finally Back!

I remember the old Arena Stage.  Located in the midst of crisp, apartment co-ops and subsidized housing, the area of southwest Washington had languished for decades.  And the Stage that had grown into one of the nation's most prominent and experimental theaters seemed sadly out of place.

The "SW Stage" is where I saw Frankie and Johnny.  The entire play was confined to Frankie's one-room apartment throughout the single night on which the play takes place.

Frankie is a disappointed romantic and hopeless waitress who comes home to sit alone, staring out the window at the neighboring apartment building.

Johnny is a energetic short-order cook, just out of prison.  Johnny, like Frankie has had traumatic experiences with romance, but unlike Frankie, is willing to try again.

The play made me laugh, and my heart leaped and took a backflip when the two decided to give it a chance. But just as much laughter, there was drama, and the falling in love and falling apart, simply made me cry.

That was back in 2007 with the old Arena Stage, rustic and dimunitive. Today, as Tanushri and I walked into the sparking, sun-splashed arena, we were totally blow away by both the immensity and artistic design.

So totally blown away, that we had to come back to see a show -- later in the week, we would be looking forward to our return to watch the reclaimed Broadway musical "Oklahoma."

Vimeo Vs YouTube

Vimeo provided a spectacular video show mapped to the windows of their HQ building on W 18th St.

With YouTube, there's a greater possibility of becoming famous.  With Vimeo, there's a greater chance you'll be discovered by the experts.

I never turn down an excuse to come to NYC.  Living in DC, NYC is practically a hop, skip and a jump away.  And when Vimeo provided me with a free pass to their Inaugural two-day Video Festival at their headquarters in NYC, it was too good of a deal to turn down.

I learned everything you ever wanted to know about the DLSR from this video pioneer himself, Phillip Bloom, learned how to arrange my viewer, canvas and timeline on Final Cut by award winning producer, Abba Shapiro, and that an Ipod 4 or Touch can shoot HD 720 video up to 30 frames per second.

So what is Vimeo, my friends asked.  And then the obligatory question, how's it different than YouTube.
Both are great and YouTube can give you greater visibility. But Vimeo is more creative and overall more talented allowing you to see really cool videos.  With YouTube, there's a greater possibility of becoming famous.  With Vimeo, there's a greater chance you'll be discovered by the experts.

I learned many important things, and suddenly realized that there was so much I simply didn't know.

So what was the purpose of this two-day festival.  It was not to spotlight a new piece of equipment or to emphasize a new form of editing.

The Closing Party was simply the best party I've ever attended. Period.

The purpose of the Vimeo Video Fest was to highlight the creative potential of you and "me."  Vimeo wants to showcase innovative, original and creative video regardless of genre, technique, background or budget.

Vimeo didn't just spotlight what was new, they wanted us to explore what was next.  So who's going to win out years from now. Neither both products can collaboratively coexist.

Rowing Hudson

There's only one thing better than running along the Hudson River, and that is paddling or rowing on the Hudson River, itself.

After the invigorating Inaugural Vimeo Festival, I was ready to charge onto the River and meet and film rowers pushing through the large swells and strong Manhattan current.

On this particular trip, I was blessed to join an avid rowing group at Pier 40, sit in the back by the Coxswain and film to my heart's delight.

I've never crossed the Hudson to New Jersey before and definitely never made an interstate trip across the mighty River.

But on this day I definitely made a lot of friends from and around the Downtown Boathouse.

And yes, I'd rather be paddling (Stand-up), but once in a while, it's better to work as a team.

Now here was my lucky chance.

Healing the Hidden Wounds

I read with shock and gratitude at the Washington Post's special report "The Cost of War: Traumatic Brain Injury,"

I had known Lt Col Tim Maxwell.  He was a patient at the National Naval Medical Center when I had the honor to work as the Public Affairs Officer from 2003 to 2005.

Maxwell is an amazing man who continued to look after the Marines, even after his traumatic injury -- Maxwell Hall in Camp LeJeune was named in his honor; and I will always be amazed by his incredible work ethic.

TBI is a horrific injury that in many ways is unlike a limb injury that can be more easily identified, treated and rehabilitated.  Worst, since its hidden, people may not be aware and discriminate against TBI patients who may come across as being rude, inconsiderate or forgetful.  And the effects of TBI can change over time.

Vice Admiral Adam Robinson, the Surgeon General of the Navy believes that nobody returns home from combat without at least some degree of post-traumatic stress. 

"If you are involved in combat and combat operations, you have post-traumatic stress," he said. 

Even those not physically involved in combat, but operating within the combat theater, are at risk, he said. "If you are exposed to the tension and to the stress of a deployment, you are a candidate to develop post-traumatic stress." 

"I did not say you have a disorder," Admiral Robinson emphasized. "So when I talk about PTS, I don't add the 'D' for 'disorder.' Because we know that if we treat it and treat it effectively, we can actually obviate the disorder. If we can stave off the 'D,' we are ahead of the game." 

Let's hope we can truly stave off the "D" and continue to make advances in TBI diagnosis and treatment for all victims of brain injury.

Kudos once again to Christian Davenport and the Washington Post for such a great piece of journalism -- telling the incredible stories of the home front and warfront and giving the rest of us a closer perspective to what these brave men and women have experienced and sacrificed so that we can continue to live in peace.

TS Nicole: Ode to a Storm

Normally I hate tropical storms. They knock down trees, flood basements and disrupt power.

But now with my newfound love of SUP (Stand-up Paddle), I wait for you at the end of the pier, every day, every single hour.

Tropical Storm Nicole brought strong winds, heavy rain.

I dash out to the water's edge ecstatic, feeling soundly insane.

I crossed the Douglass Bridge and turned right at Nationals Park,
I launched my board at the sparkling Diamond Teague Pier, designed to make the Southeast waterfront spark.

The Anacostia River, grimy, polluted and brown.

Normally I would grimace, my face wrinkled in a wicked frown.

But today I was elated, the wind blowing behind my back

And I paddled gleefully down the Anacostia on a broad reach tack (wind to my starboard quarter)

The trick to running a downwind is to ride the swells and not lose balance. 

It's all about focus, not your skills, strengths or your talents.

Normally swells are long and steady and ragged like a mop.

But today, the swells were gusting and tall, full of ripples and chop.

Soon, I decided to lift my paddle and not work any longer.

As I past by the tail of Hains Point, the paddle as my sail, the winds blew stronger, the waves grew longer.

I shut my eyes, felt the soothing wind and let the river take me home.

I was in Heaven on the Potomac, surrounded by towering swells, just me, the birds, alone.