Right now.....It's been 16 years since my last Crystal Pepsi...

In the great Pepsi/Coke debate, I've always been a Pepsi man. My earliest memories were watching the "Must-See TV of the mid-80s": Family Ties, The Cosby Show & Cheers...(I was sleeping by L.A. Law, so therefore, Corbin Bernsen will only be remembered for Roger Dorn in Major League) There was this great commercial with Michael J. Fox (whom still is the most influential actor of my childhood...Family Ties, Teen Wolf, Back to the Future series, Doc Hollywood...and later on in life Spin City...) that aided me in making Pepsi "my choice for a new generation". (Another time, I'll write about the parallel lives that Alex P. Keaton and me have led)

So...Random thought floating through my mind that I feel like venting...Was Crystal Pepsi really that bad? I mean, honestly....Why didn't it catch on....I'd ride my bike to the old T&A Deli (The "T" and "A" stood for Testa-Adams...but yes, I know you thought it...) on Lafayette Ave in Hawthorne where I'd get Crystal Pepsi in those little glass bottles. It was marketing genius. I was prey. Van Hagar song in the ads. Cindy Crawford. You got me. And I drank. And then by the next year...It was gone...At least it lasted longer than Coke II.

Just think about how healthier we'd be if we drank a wonderful clear, caffeene-free, calorie free carbonated beverage?

Hence somewhere in between my love for Diet Pepsi, San Pellegrino has become my choice for the yuppie generation.

Human sacrifice....dogs and cats living together... mass hysteria!

What the hell is going on in the world? And it's not because I read the New York Post everyday, which happens to accentuate and perpetuate the stories that some who read the "Gray Lady" daily (and I do too) shoo away as meaningless. (I think the fact that Kiefer Sutherland founded an indie record company and was seen drinking J&B scotch in Boston is interesting news). But let's do my version of "Best Week Ever"...(even though its more like worst week ever)

1.) Craigslist killer - I've bought furniture off of Craigslist and Cubs tickets off of Craigslist. Philip Markoff (you say Markoff, I say Madoff...), whom seems to have the world by the cahones decided dragging his lovely bride-to-be from Little Silver to tax-payer subsidized casinos with comp points and free trips to the buffet. (You truly know Grey's Anatomy has "jumped the shark" when people have stopped referring to the medical book of the same name with the spelling of Meredith Grey's last name.

2.) While nothing could concievebly follow that, the Long Island man whom knowing he was about to be busted in a $20 mil ponzi scheme drove down to Loyola on what was billed as a visit to his 19 year old daughter's lovely campus, but ended with all four of them dead in a hotel room in a murder-suicide was disturbing to say the least.

3.) Turmoil at America's pre-eminent Catholic university (and for all you BC people, your administration wanted to take crosses out of your classrooms and you left the Big East to be the only Catholic school in WASP enclave of an athletic conference), especially now that former Ambassador to the Holy See Mary Ann Glendon has declined (courteously) the Laetare Medal, which is the highest honor given during commencement at the University of Notre Dame. And oh yeah, POTUS happens to be speaking too....and many Catholics and alumni have a problem with that for good reason because of his fundamental differences with some key points is in conflict with some major tenants of the Catholic faith. For many others, just another excuse to play politics...which in this case, I don't agree with.

When I was at Rutgers we didn't exactly have this problem. In 2005, Mario Batali was my commencement speaker. While he regaled us of "Carpe Diem" references, his contribution to my gastronomic life has been one of the most simplistic, yet ultimate dining experiences ever. A porkchop with balsamic & hot cherry peppers may sound simplistic and something any restaurant can do....None I've ever had were this good. The Barolo it was paired with could have had something to do with it, or the fact I got a kick that former Senator & current New School President Bob Kerrey was on a double date.

4.) The NY Jets keep their fans from jumping off the balcony at Radio City Music Hall, which has been the past time-honored practice in late-April's past by making a trade with their recently fired head coach to garner a much-heralded quarterback who played one year as a starter.

5.) "The Irish Riviera" experiencing weather reminiscent of mid-summer form.

6.) Swine-flu....Sounds like the medical term given to what I'm afflicted with after my Oktoberfest tailgates....The other could be "hangover". Seriously though, medical epidemics like this are freaky...and will lead to over-parenting, as well as a reduction of playmates all across suburbia. (and another out for suburban moms to give their kids when they don't feel like dropping them off at someone's house whom they don't approve of)

And now...Deep Thoughts...

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I get by with a little help from my friends...

The Wonder Years...Is there any other show on television that every week had . We all knew a or had a Paul Pfeifer, the best friend. We all had (or still have) a Winnie Cooper. We had "the dream girl". Maybe some of us had a Becky Slater, whose aggressiveness and hostility towards men who "steal" a girl's best friend. We all knew that life within a family unit wasn't all laugh track humor and "gee, golly" prefacing a climax in plot structure...Though it would have been pretty cool if Daniel Stern could narrate my life after every episode.

The past year has given my generation the first "reality check". The Arnolds were a microcosim of the American family that had to deal with the Vietnam War, changing social trends, and the whole re-definition of the American family. Our generation received it's first reality check back in 2001, when in my first week of school, I didn't expect to be able to see from my dorm room smoke billowing from lower Manhattan 40 miles away. We were thrust into the true first challenge of a generation. "The Wonder Years", no matter the differences of the times, was a general statement about growing up. We didn't neccessarily "like the same music, like the same bands, and like the same clothes" of our parents...But in hindsight, (and the fact that no short amount of time in American history produced so much great music over a short period of time), we are connected more than we think.

No show has had a better compilation of music to go with the story. And it's almost tragic. The musical soundtrack that helped us connect to the show is the reason that Kevin Arnold, Paul Pfeifer and Winnie Cooper have not been able to grace our DVD racks with their presence.

I like to think that I'm still "livin' the dream". I did happen to hit 2 Mets games, a Dave Matthews concert this week & ran in a relay marathon down the shore. On a beautiful day that proved that the days of salmon shorts & flip-flops are almost an everyday occurance, I ran a 6.5 mile leg and still happened to gain weight....It was probably water weight...All of these shore races are thrown for people who run to drink..)

My good friend Mike accompanied me to CitiField this weekend. We lived in the same house for 3 years. Drinking beers, sampling the Danny Meyer fare (having a Shake Shack so convenient now is a wonderful touch), and just laughing the day away about everything from "the Century Club" to the time he broke up with his now fiancee and he had to share custody of their cat. But each day that I get a wedding invitation or a birth announcement from someone who was a part of those "wonder years", its an amazing thing to be able to share those life experiences that were the furthest things from our minds. And while the seeds of friendship were planted back then, nothing is more rewarding than what "blooms" from those life events.

A season of the Wonder Years would be the perfect solution for a rainy Saturday down in Sea Girt....I can wonder, can't I?

"Stacy's Mom" needs a new place to buy a lawn ornament...

Part of the reason New Jerseyans are a proud people is that we thrive on our minutiae. We love the obscure little things and places that you would only know by living and growing up here. (Though, the entrepreneurial spirit of Weird NJ has brought things like "Midgetville" and "Gravity Road" to the masses) The roots of this rant started when I was driving along Route 46 West on Tuesday, I passed Fountains of Wayne like I have on so many occasions. This time though, I couldn't help but feel sad. Now, why do I care that an institutions which for decades has sold the oddest and sometimes most hideous lawn ornaments on the planet? Why is such a store that I've never shopped at in my life important? Because it's part of our cultural fabric. It was the backdrop for a great Sopranos episode where Charles S. Dutton guest-starred. Hell, it even was the name of a band who sang about every adolescent's Cougar fantasy.

As Bill O'Reilly and other talking heads have done for many years in fighting their own "culture wars". (How can we forget John Gibson's "The War on Christmas"....and it wasn't about Washington crossing the Delaware either) I fight my own little war on a daily basis. It's a "culture war" of my own. It's the "I'm sick of seeing an Applebee's, Lowe's or Papa John's pop up on every street corner war". The "chaining of America" has always hit a nerve with me. I think much of it dates back to the fact I grew up watching how hard my parents worked owning and running a restaurant.

For those of you who don't know, much of my early formative hours were spent drinking "Shirley Temples" fixed by my father at the bar. My parents owned a great little restaurant/tavern in North Haledon known as "the Rathskeller". It's hereditary to despise the fact that a certain segment of the population thinks that assembly-line kitchens are the way to go.

I'll never forget the time that my grandfather took me to the Great Falls in Paterson (which this week was christened a national park) and we went for a hot dog afterwards at Libby's (one of those true institutions in New Jersey that have stood the test of time...and I bet you didn't know New Jersey is the true home of the "Texas Weiner" ). I find it hard to get that same feeling going to a Subway or somewhere else. There's a reason that places like Libby's, The Star Tavern, and Jersey Freeze are still around. The food is damn good. But also its because they connect us to those generations before us. Our grandparents took us there. Or we went there after little league games. Or maybe you took date there. (Libby's might not be your best choice then) So many of life's moments happen in these places

So my friends, when given the option, think about your local New Jersey institution next time you're out and about. The only way we can maintain the cultural fabric that binds us together and makes this state the best place to live in America is because we have places like this. I mean after all....and here's the new "Red Scare"...Imagine a world where you'd have to consider the Olive Garden a true Italian meal? (which is already the truth in many towns and cities in America)

Support your local pork store and bakery. Support your farmer's market. That's a true economic stimulus that will help ensure that future generations won't have to go to Casa Bonita to experience culture.

Oh..."the big race"..

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When in the course of human events, there are certain events that just reach beyond the realms of this galaxy. American ships getting hijacked by Jack Sparrow, Rutgers football ranked in the top 10 for a period of time, and Paul & Ringo sharing a stage together at Radio City Music Hall. But there’s something even more earth-shattering. Ryan J. Peene will be running in a half-marathon on May 3^rd. For many years prior, "I choose not to run" was my mantra. (as you can tell from the picture to the left, taken many hours before the Giants walk through the "Canyon of Heroes" last year)

Next Sunday is the 1 year anniversary of when I ran my first 5k. My father recruited me to run the Lincoln Tunnel Challenge with him. Father & Son, plodding along together, taking in the toxic fumes that would make Ed Begley, Jr. drop dead. I finished....in 36 minutes and change. A few weeks later, I looked out my window from the 3rd floor of the Parker House and I saw all these people with their Spring Lake 5 t-shirts on. My goal would be to run in the Spring Lake 5 next year. Well, after a summer of running in the shadow of the "golden dome" (graduate school was also known to some of my friends as "Catholic fat camp"), plodding through various towns on the Jersey shore like Forrest Gump, and aided by the cardiovascular benefits of the game of squash, I brought my time down 9 minutes to 27 in the beginning of October (and 30 lbs too). Stumbling across the line of the Spring Lake 5 would indeed be a reality.

But things change. One of those people in my life that had that make a lasting impact found his way back home to the Garden State. Father Geno Sylva returned from Rome having been studying in the shadow of St. Peter's Basilica for the past 3 years . Many of you know of him from his time at DePaul or at St. Anthony's. Many of you have also likely been inspired by him one way or another in your own right. The Diocese of Paterson assigned him to the daunting task of bringing Catholics back to a church which has fought some losing PR battles over the past 20 years. Where the Bailey-Ellard mansion stands (and the high school once populated) on 26 acres in Madison is the future home of St. Paul Inside the Walls Center for Catholic Evangelization at Bailey-Ellard.

At the first meeting I attended, Father Geno was putting together a team for the New Jersey Half-Marathon. On that day in early February, I said yes without much thought. I thought it would be a great challenge. So I've been training. Like Hawthorne's own "Anorexic Annie" before me, I've been making my way across the major thorofares in the Hawthorne,Wyckoff, Ridgewood, Glen Rock and Franklin Lakes area. (God, I wish it would get warm already)

The Catholic Church, over the past 30 years has lost 30% of its membership, and roughly 10% of all Americans are former Catholics . (startling statistics for us Catholics) St. Paul's Inside the Walls has the goal of reaching out to many constituencies who have been neglected or driven away from the perceived coldness of the Catholic church. From youth, to single parents, to the disabled, to Catholic lawyers & politicians, to veterans, as well as educators, will all be brought in to help bring people back to the faith, as well as establish the center as one of the pre-eminent places for Catholic thought. Please help me make this a reality.

On May 3rd, I'll be running with (check that: likely behind) Father Geno and other members of the St. Paul team as we all descend upon Long Branch and run the 13.1 miles that constitute a "half-marathon".

Consider helping me out (just for the sheer sport of knowing that). I don't want to stand in front of the Market Basket with a used coffee cup that says "We're Happy to Serve You" in an Asian-type font. All I'm asking for is $10. Thats less than the cost of a foo-foo drink in a martini glass at any bar in Manhattan or now, even New Jersey. Its less than the cost of a pound of fresh mozzarella at any great italian specialty store. Heck, its less than a movie at any theater. I'm not going to have a thermometer, or a page tracking my progress, or any of those other artificial fundraising methods employed by large organizations that drive me crazy. This is it.

Though, if you want to buy me a beer at Harrigan's in Sea Girt after, that's fine too.

A Peene tradition unlike any other....

The Masters has always been the sporting event I look forward to most on a yearly basis. Why? Because it is timeless. It represents a generation and a time where sport was not dominated by corporate logos which make our golfers look like they are a Nextel Cup Monte Carlo. Beers are still $1.25 and not $9. Sandwiches are $1 and good...not $12 and stuffed with mystery-meat. When the azaleas come out to bloom, Augusta National Country Club takes center stage. And this weekend, it truly is the perfect storm, as there is nothing greater than sitting, surrounded by your family at around 6 pm in a tryptophian induced state hoping to see Tiger and Phil (or Phil and Tiger) 1st and 2nd on the leader-board trading shots for sports ultimate individual prize: the Green Jacket.

Five years ago, I wrote a commentary in The Daily Targum regarding the "de-genderization of Augusta". Feminist activist Martha Burk had tried to hijack the 2003 Masters with protests and shenanigans that only an ACORN fan would love. In my column, I tried to illustrate that Hootie Johnson and the club weren't a caucus of "He-Man Woman Haters", but exercising the free-will of a club...chauvinistic or not. If you want a blast from my past, click the link above. I've mellowed a little since then. It was in Randy Pausch's book The Last Lecture in which he categorizes individuals into two categories: "Tiggers" and "Eeyores". (I am not going to get into the details because if you haven't read it yet, I can guarantee that it is among the most awe-inspiring books you will read, and then use as a guide for your life.) But I think in the world of golf (and maybe even life), you're either a Tiger or a Phil. While you can respect both immensely, you can only relate to one.

In my history. I can relate to Phil. So therefore, I like to think I'm a Phil He smiles a lot. He's happy-go-lucky. He's a risk-taker. And of course he chokes. (as per my baseball post, you can see "choking" has been a theme in my sports career...must be the Mets thing) My brother is a Tiger. He's the hardest-worker I know. He's a physical specimen. And historically on the golf course (and in law school) he comes through when the pressure is the greatest.

The brothers Peene are a competitive bunch, especially when it comes to sports. We have the same skill-set, we've just been given different God-given ways to employ them. After all, he is a little taller, a little more graceful...I'm much more of the "win at all costs" type. During my basketball days, I played shooting guard with the physical mentality of a power-forward. (My sister, a 3 time all-county basketball star during her high school years, still will not play me...I think she's afraid) 4 years ago we were golfing at Fiddler's Elbow. Going into the last hole, I had a 3 stroke lead on my brother. It was a par 5 on the river course. I figured I had it locked up. Its not like the US Open was at stake, but you always like to beat family. But, somehow I got "the yips"... The demons caught up and I looked like Phil on the 18th hole at Winged Foot almost 2 years ago. Shanked a drive, took a drop, wound up with a triple-bogey 8. Brandon birdied the hole. I lost by 1 stroke. He won the Tiger way. (Mo - they don't call him "Peene the Machine" for nothing) I lost the Phil way.

On Sunday, when we're watching the Masters...I know we'll both be rooting for a moment when the leaderboard is tied and having the consummate professional storyteller, Jim Nantz, dictate a timeless story about two of the greatest athletes of our time. (See slim Phil now? He's not a golfer...He's an athlete). Then of course, we all revert back to being "Phils" and "Tigers". That's what I'd like in my Easter basket.

Oh, and don't forget a few Cadbury creme eggs too. I love those things.