Fact: I should be writing more than I am currently writing.

With that premise in mind, I have decided to follow in the vein of my WANBrother/Evil Twin/Secret Lover John Mietus (see his Important Announcements!) and launch a new feature here at IMWAN: Frank's True Stories™.

This could easily bore everyone and crash and burn instantly. If that's the case, feel free to sound off. If you can live with it, though, I'd probably benefit, in the long run, from having a place to tell my little tales of triumph, torment, and all the stuff that lies between.

Here's #1:

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In March of 1993, my best friend Jeramy and I took a spring break of sorts and drove from Champaign, IL to Houston, TX to spend a few days with our mutual friend Tom, who was, at the time, an intern with NASA. (Tom went on to be a full-on Orbital Engineer with NASA; he is a prominent member of the team working with the international space station to this very day.)

On the first night of our visit, Tom suggested that we head down to Galveston and gallivant on the beach. We did so, and for the first time in my adult life, I witnessed and stepped foot into the ocean (technically the Gulf of Mexico, but I’m going to call that the ocean no matter what anyone says). The sight and sound and smell and feel of the sea was every bit the majesty that I had always imagined it to be, especially by the light of a full moon with just the right number of white, wispy clouds in the black-and-gray night sky.

Tom, who weighed about 140 pounds at the time (and lettered in track in high school), challenged me to a footrace, there on the beach. We had raced for fun a few times back in college, and while I was three inches taller and easily fifty pounds heavier, I generally kept up with him. I accepted his challenge, and lines were literally drawn in the sand – start point here, finish point there -- roughly 100 yards apart.

As I write these words, over 14 years later, my body remembers that race. I remember the pumping of my legs and the counterbalance provided by my tightly-flexed arms. I remember inhaling through my nose and exhaling though my mouth, as I was taught. I remember feeling frustrated by the lack of purchase my feet found in the fine, pale sands of the beach.

And I remember winning.

I outran the track star fair and square, and once it was over, he hugged me with even more vigor than he would later express at his wedding, for which I stood as groomsman. And then we sat in the cool sand, arms behind us, propping us up as we looked up at the moon and panted out the rest of our adrenaline rush for a good ten minutes, saying nothing.

That was a good night. I’ll remember it forever.

Keep writing, Frank. You have a good expressive tone that I enjoy reading.

Somehow, I knew you'd be first, Dave. =)

Thanks.

See what happens when plans fall through? I should be grilling now!

Awesome story, and I wholeheartedly endorse the concept of Frank's True Stories™.

Can you fit the line, "cocaine is a helluva drug" in one of the true stories?

Good stuff, Frank. Get cracking on #2. That's a Papal order!

I think we need more of these stories. I also think we should have Taft writing some of his (not true) Tales of AwesomeTM. As a counterbalance.

I enjoyed reading that, Frank.

Bravo. This is the kind of "reality TV" I like.

A Papal order is meaningless in the eyes of the Prophets of Bajor, Trevor...but I get the point, and appreciate your support.

Typo. Trevor was saying that he's sending you a PayPal order. For a hard copy of your post.

Well, that's an entirely different kettle of fish.

Yes. I think that might have been what I thought I meant. Linda will take care of the money. Send her a bill, Frank.

There won't be any money. But when you die, on your deathbed, you will receive total consciousness. So you got that goin' for you.

Which is nice.

Hey! Lama! How 'bout a little sump'n sump'n for the effort?

Good work, Frank!

'tis awesome, I say. I like these little slice o life bits from you and John.

My 2:22am thread is much more boring and mundane.

Heck, I've gotten so bored of it, I haven't posted on it in, what, weeks!?

Please don't ever come to Texas again.

And great story. Keep 'em coming!

Frank: Keep doing this. Always. I can't even begin to tell you how important it will be for YOU. You'll just have to keep doing it and learn. Best of luck in writing, my friend. It's the most wonderful, frustrating thing in the world.

I did come to Texas one other time, Matt. The telling of that trip might be documented in a future True Story...but there could be dire consequences for all involved.

Stay tuned.

Camraderie, brotherhood and stepping foot in the Gulf of Mexico; a great story Frank.