This is kind of a weird thing to observe, as part of me is sad of course. Yet, there is this sense of time, and personal accomplishment.

Look. This wasn’t an easy decade. But in the end, I feel like I came out the other side of things stronger and better; resilient and capable of things unimaginable before my affliction.

So like I did a decade ago, I spent this December 19th watching “The Fellowship of the Ring.” When those first spiraling spots set in motion before my left eye, I wondered if I would ever be able to experience a motion picture in the same way again. Over that time, I had to adapt and learn how to observe things differently. I had to use other senses, trust my ears and instincts and let go of that which I could not control. But in the end, all this time later, I still love the scene at the edge of Khazad-dûm, when Gandalf yells, “You shall not pass!” I find the sound design epic beyond words. And I find Samwise Gamgee to be overtly bisexual at the very least.

When my eye failed (My left eye. My right eye was bad when I was born, so I was screwed.), I really worried about losing more than the ability to see. I worried about losing the ability to spell. To keep up with technology. I worried about forgetting how my kids looked. I worried about losing my sense of direction. I worried about my ability to follow my beloved motorsports. I mean, it was really scary. The first time I went to Disney with the family scared the living shit out of me. What happens if I lose them in the crowd? What do I do on a  roller coaster? Will I know what’s coming up around the next bend?

Well, I really didn’t need to worry TOO much. Spelling is an ingrained part of our lexicon, I’ve discovered, a part of our mental construct of language itself. Technology – oh my beloved technology – has changed in terms of portability and touch screens and such, but it also allows me to do things like type this blog with text to speech and magnification aids. I am still the family navigator, having guided The Zhen’s on vacations through intense metropolitan areas like New York and San Francisco without GPS, without a problem. And I use a cane in crowds so people understand that I am visually impaired, not drunk. All the while, adopting the philosophy of the ruder people are, the blinder I become… (whack! Sorry, was that your shin?)

I do miss driving. Even more than reading. I would give anything to feel the exhilaration of downshifting at speed. Not to mention the independence of being mobile…

My children have grown and I’ve watched their baseball games through a monocular magnifier, heard their wonderful concerts through undistracted ears and been blown away by the confidence and maturitty they’ve displayed in the face of their dad’s eye problems. I know it has been a hinderance from time to time, having to be my “eyes” (”How much time is left on the clock? What down is it?”), but I know it has given them a perspective, a sense of empathy, that couldn’t have been imparted by anecdote alone. They’ve lived it. And I think we’ve all been the better for it in some ways.

And then there’s my wife. My marriage. In the middle of life, here we were trucking along, raising a family and building a “normal” life. It would have been predictably easy for a family, for a marriage, to crumple under the pressure of this sort of thing. But my wife is a rock. Solid. Loyal, Unwavering in commitment to family and to me. I couldn’t have asked for anything better in life. I’ve made dumb decisions over the course of it all, but talking to the redhead was definitely not one of them. She is my light; my eyes.

I am beyond lucky.

Today, in 2011, I can still watch cars race and probably tell you who’s going to need a track bar adjustment at the next pit stop. I can still spell hippopotamus. I will get an iPad to record my next album remotely, at various South Florida locales.

I really never thought I would make it through the Mines of Moria. But here I am, at the base of Mt. Doom, still standing… awaiting my next adventure.

This is the modest goal I have these days for my music. And sadly, it will take all kinds of sweat and arm-twisting to meet it.

It’s tough in this age of instant streaming downloads and YouTube videos to get people to part with their hard-earned cash to support any kind of music, much less the music made by a married suburban dad of two you’ve never heard of. It re-enforces the unkind truths about the artform’s place in the digital age, relegated to an ancillary role, fueling our workouts or our commutes at best, or perhaps soundtracking our video games or other primary entertainment sources. The idea of an “album” itself as a continual, themed collection of music designed to be listened to, in order, from start to finish has become something of a dinosaur, replaced by the selective gratification and financially frugal concept of the playlist. Not that there’s anything wrong with that I guess, but it’s a ways from how I grew up consuming music.

CONTRASTS IN CONSUMPTION
Never was this contrast more crystallized than when I picked up a record player and some records for the first time in over two decades. this happened about 6 months ago. I found a Zeppelin record and put it on. The spinning table was the central focus, the album cover in hand. No videos or life chores to take me away from the warm embrace of the analog tones and perfect imperfections of old vinyl.

But what occurred to me wasn’t so much the vinyl epifany, which is a blog onto itself. It was more that this form was what I fell in love with as a kid. Alone, you, the music and the artist. It could take you on a journey without a joystick or a steering wheel in hand. Perhaps this is why, in spite of all of the depressing realities facing the form as it pertains to me, I still love making and sharing my original music.

THE ESSENCE OF TIME
Even more pathetically, I write this blog with the knowledge that most people, friends even, won’t bother to read it. It’s where we are. I can post a pic of a cat doing something stupid or a status update about what I am eating for dinner and that is likely to get more of a response. Why? Those things are universal, uncontroversial and require little thought or effort to engage in. “Sure do love that Fajita Burrito at Chipotle,” they’ll retort. But ask people to listen to or read your creative enterprise and the likely response will be akin to digital crickets. And that’s not even asking them to PAY for anything – that’s just asking them to spend time.

This is my third album in 10 years. I think I have sold a grand total of 300 copies and probably given away another 100 or so. Now mind you, I don’t tour or play live shows, so there is something to be said about the challenge of trying to move units while sitting at home. I get that. But when I consider the time and level of effort involved, it is kind of crazy.

Seriously, consider what this product entails. I write the material, arrange it, play all the instruments for the most part, record it, engineer it (with all the associated learning curves), design all the artwork inside and out, build the supporting websites and stuff, all because I love the form.

Oh, and did I mention I am legally blind? LOL! Talk about a labor of love.

I long ago realized that I was never going to “make it” in the music business as an artist. What people need to understand about this music and me is that it isn’t some desperately pathetic middle-aged swing for the fences. I’m really, really not that delusional or sad. Please. But I would hope that I could conjure up enough support among my friends, close and extended, to justify the production of music in this form. That’s all I really want people to do. Listen. Maybe you’ll enjoy it. Maybe not. But at least listen. Maybe you’ll end up being one of the 100 who gives a shit…

(So if it ends up that you do in fact give a shit, visit www.GeorgeZhenMusic.com and order  George’s new CD, “In Transit”…)

The only solace a fan can take from this is that we have plenty of big name company in the department of collegiate sports corrections. USC, Ohio State, North Carolina, Tennessee – the list goes on.

The UM scandal has kind of become a tipping point of sorts. The media is clamoring for some sort of “fundamental change”, along with many of the conference leaders, school presidents and the NCAA itself. Lip service, more likely than not. But in real terms, how does one go about changing a system where the money is all gathered at the top, shared at the institutional level between schools and the million-dollar coaches? How do we preserve all that is right about college athletics while simultaneously recognizing that the money is too big and out of balance for it to go on this way?

The Real World
The competitive world of college athletics raises millions for individual schools, mostly through football and basketball programs. In this world, there is a hard line drawn between athletes and money by the NCAA. Student-athletes cannot accept payments, gifts or special benefits beyond their scholarship. But this is altogether different than other money-making departments at major universities.

As an example, I will cite the MIT Media Lab. I do this because I have a friend currently working on his PhD there. Like many research departments at the university level, the MIT Media Lab is tightly integrated with private industry. Companies like Google, Motorola, General motors and even ESPN give millions of dollars to this school. In exchange, the companies get access to talent, ideas and research. During summers, these companies take on Media Lab students as paid interns, oftentimes grooming them for a post-MIT career at these companies. It is a tightly integrated, symbiotic relationship between private industry and an educational institution. Everybody wins: The schools get funding, the kids get educations and access to a jobs pipeline, and the companies get fresh new talent and research results.

Seems pretty nifty, right? The question is, what lessons can we take from this model and apply to college sports.

Thanks For The Gumball, Roger
For decades, the NFL has enjoyed the luxury of having a minor league system without having to pay for it. They have waited eagerly at the bottom of the gumball machine, not caring how churned up it is inside, and snagging the treats it spits out. It’s time for the NFL to get directly involved in the process, to put some skin in the game, and solidify the relationship it has with these educational institutions and the NCAA.

How can this be done? Well, first thing the NFL needs to do is to regulate and certify each and every agent that does business with the NFL. Set the criteria however, but make sure that those authorized to do business with the NFL are worthy. Then the colleges should allow these agents to contact and do business with college athletes after their sophomore season, say. Let them get paid directly by the agent (he puts his skin in the game, too), capped of course at a reasonable level. Make it enough to live well, maybe send some money home if he needs to, but not enough to get into real trouble. Tie it to their education and off field behavior. Let the NFL and the agents be the police. If a kid screws up, take away the money and, in extreme cases, let suspensions extend into his potential NFL career. The student-athlete then knows he is not only hurting his pocketbook, he’s also hurting his chances in the NFL if he behaves badly. Real consequences for bad behavior. What a concept.

With decent money and an NFL future at stake, the institution and the NFL have leverage over players and a mechanism to hold them accountable for their behavior. In other words (to riff on Miami Herald writer Dan Lebatard), you just gave the mall cop a gun.

This relationship could be augmented, too, with workshops and training for future NFL players designed to get them ready for NFL life. The benefit for the NFL is that teams will get a deeper look at their future draft prospects long before they leave the college level. And college coaches know who they are dealing with; a legitimate agent licensed by the NFL.

Yes, lots of details remain to be figured out, sure, but pretending that the wall between amateur and professional athletics still exists is self-deceptive at best. The real question is whether the NFL will step up and take a responsible role in building a gateway from amateur to professional, or will it sit by and let the bricks fall where they may.