Who's next? Who's left?

So Tiger Woods has apparently proven to be as big of a slimeball as any other infamous athlete, politician or celebrity. Another shining star that's fallen so far. He joins rank with the likes of Kobe Bryant, Michael Vick, Bill Clinton, Barry Bonds, Rod Blagojevich, Roger Clemens, Jon Goselin, Brittany Spears, Sammy Sosa... The list goes on and on and on.

It's a shame. Not just in Tiger's case; that this golfer who had such a positive reputation is no longer the positive role model that he was. But that he's just the disgraced celebrity du jour. So many have fallen that now it's the remaining positive role models that are the exception, not the norm. Who's left for our kids to look up to? To be the star that they'd like to emulate?

Well, Peyton Manning's still there. Barack Obama. Derek Jeter, I suppose. Lance Armstrong. Oprah? I wonder, if I read this blog in 5 years will these people still stand tall?

It's a shame that there are so few of the relatively clean ones left. Is it really THAT hard to remain decent once you're in the public eye? Is it that hard to follow the law? Is it that hard to remain faithful? To say no to temptation?

Or maybe it's just that now everything is so easily turned into public knowledge. If it weren't for cell phones and texting, maybe we wouldn't all know about Tiger's indescretions. Everyone would still love him. Maybe my childhood heroes were just as faulty. Maybe Walter Payton wasn't really Sweetness. Who knows?

Whatever the case, our kids will probably be best served if they find their heroes closer to home. Police officers, firefighters, soldiers, aunts, uncles, big brothers or sisters. Parents. We may not hit home runs or score touchdowns, but maybe we can avoid at least some of the ugly mess to which our public idols seem to be prone.

Sure, Tiger, you're only human. We're all only human. Let's not use that as a cop out. Humans have choices. Humans make choices.

I heard a quote today from the movie Solaris that has stuck with me: There are no answers, only choices.

Choose wisely, my friends. Choose wisely.

If Shakespeare Was an Aging Marathoner

Chronic knee problems recently led me to an orthopedic doctor's examining table. As you can see, the resulting diagnosis of a torn meniscus has left me in a quandary...

If Shakespear Was an Aging Marathoner
(Ronlet's Soliloquy)

To cut or not to cut: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The pangs and Ow! Ow!'s of outrageous torsion,
Or to take arms against a knee of troubles,
And by op’rating end them?
To cut: to scope;No more; and by a scope to say we end
The knee-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That joint is heir to, 'tis an inflammation
Of whose pain I'd be rid. To cut, to scope;
To jog: perchance to run: ay, there's the rub;
For in that slice of knife what runs may come
When we have suffered through arthritic toil,
Must give us pause: there's the prospect
To de-fray cartilage by so long knife;
For who would bear the pops and tweaks of mine,
Marathoner's gimp, the sore man's hobbled gait,
The pangs of patellar grate, the knee's decay,
The consequence of off-days and the spurns
Of fellow runners, ahead of me they wait,
When he himself might his knee wellness make
With an incision? Who would fartleks bear,
To grunt and sweat during a weary run,
But that the dread of something after knife,
The undiscover'd country from whose paths
Some runners return, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those aches we have
Than run with others that we know not of?
Thus new science does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of my meniscus
Tho’ sicklied o'er with the tear of running fraught,
And re-built knees of great strength and speed
With this regard their footfalls turn awry;
I choose the lame reaction.