Do you know what the #1 song was the day you were born?  You can check it out here http://www.joshhosler.biz/.  Mine was "Only Forever," which shows that I am 143 years old.  But I like to think it also explains my romantic idealism, paradoxical nature, and penchant for looking beyond limits.

Those are all things that can give you the best and the worst of life, and maybe they gave me last month's ski accident, from which I am now rapidly recovering post-surgery (thank you very much for the many e-mails, cards and gifts).  Ironically, the song that gets the most play from me presently is "Shattered (Turn the Car Around)," though for reasons other than what you might think.  I've been quipping that my rotator cuff had to be FedEx-ed from the trails, but the sawbones was able to pull it back together with total success.  I'll put the details at the end of this e-mail for those who have asked.  Seriously, I'm fine.  The up side of the many flaws and failings in my maverick nature is that physically I heal fast.  Suffice it to say that this orthopod said the same thing as the retiring one who had to redo my carpal tunnel ops (for the first time in his career) because they healed so fast that the nerves didn't have time to abate: "It would be you..."  This time it was said because the range of motion three days after surgery was beyond what he thought would have been remarkable in two weeks.  So I'll take that.  He also told his nurse, "Don't bother telling him anything, he'll do what he wants anyway."  Hmmm.  One out of two.

Meanwhile, before the surgery, Atlas gave me a lift.  New high-end Cabella Atlas snowshoes, that is.  Okay, maybe I skied a little when I wasn't supposed to after the accident (didn't use poles and stayed on sane terrain), but then came the snowshoes.  Man, those things can go up trees.  Bought them at dusk on a whim and spent half the night chugging through the woods at Elm Creek.  As a further concession to safety, I wore a headlamp, and the violet light made snow throb magically and trees dance with pink outlines.  Shades of Fantasia come to life.  Learned already that you go by the sound of snow as much as the look when you snowshoe.  You raise a roostertail when you hike, and it's like snow elves are pelting you with soft snowballs from behind.  Love this.  Hey, it's second to skiing, but it gets you out there where you can think and breathe and feel.  Cue John Denver's Country Roads.  Motion is music.

If you are not a believer that it is actually warm and exhilarating to tramp the diamond dust of winter, I hope there is still some way for you to find music in your life.  Noise is for the ears but songs are for the heart.  Let not your heart be deaf.  You may think your days are just noise and your nights too much silence, but the major chords are there waiting for you to play them anytime.  You just need the introductory notes every day.  Inspiration, stimulation.  It's not so much a matter of finding them as it is eliminating the interference.  I'm always astonished at the number of people who go around with their eyes squinched shut, their hands over their ears, and their tongues going “la-la-la-la…” who then wonder why they are in a rut.  We seem to travel like ants in conforming lines along precise streets from borough to borough, as if we are afraid of the freedom that comes off-road.  I have an example of both freedom and inspiration for you in this month's column over on StorytellersUnplugged.com:  http://www.storytellersunplugged.com/thomas-sullivan-do-stuck-pigs-sweat-negotiating-romance-and-the-path-of-least-resistance#respond . 

A number of last month's e-mails wanted to know about Norby Nation, my adoptive family, so I'm running a couple of their photos below again with names.  The Norbys are a super-family who live a couple blocks away and have been an object of study to me for their sheer happiness.  I manage to observe them because they have mistaken me for a stray dog -- note photo where I am walking on all fours.  Here are the names in the family portrait some of you asked about: Bruce & Teri w/the Fab 5 L to R: twins Julia & Emma, David, Annaliese (a.k.a. Madam President) & Peter.  There are more photos of our sledding outing in last month's newsletter http://www.thomassullivanauthor.com/newsletters/01162009.htm, which is also stored on my website.  Below you will also find a photo of me embalmed after surgery, and the surgeon looks suspiciously like Dr. Foto hisself (folk singer Mark Manrique).  Love the Dr. Foto sorcerer shot.  The two pictures of the incredible white feather and the Golden Meadow go with the quest tale in my column this month, as does the one showing some of the difficult terrain.

Medical finale: Okay, here's the unvarnished skinny -- and believe me, I'm deeply touched and a little amused by those kind souls who think I'm just putting a good face on things.  Actually, I'm starting to feel guilty on account of the shoulder is doing fabulous (surgeon's word).  The long and the short of it is that the rotator cuff was torn almost completely off, but the sawbones said the tissue was excellent and he pulled it together with a special technique and twice the usual number of pins and sutures in a two-hour surgery.  The bicep was also ruptured, but I ruptured the other bicep a long time ago and left it alone when the doctor waxed me with the assurance that my shoulder was incredibly strong and I probably wouldn't notice any difference.  I love that rationale, so I have matching ruptured biceps now and -- hey -- what's new?  Actually, I have to remember to grimace with pain that I don't feel, because the sympathy I'm getting is such a sweet deal.  Sweet as in mucho chocolate, well wishes, and my driveway secretly shoveled by stealth elves.  Am discovering cool new ways to do things while my left arm is mostly strapped in a straitjacket (sawbones wouldn't trust me with a sling).  Surprised me to realize how many things I already do with my feet.  Could be the Norbys are right, and I really am a four-footed creature.  Surgeon tells me the shoulder will be like wet cement for some time yet.  It has not kept me off the trails, hallelujah, and I snowshoe every day.

Here's hoping the glow of Valentine's Day still brightens your sunrises and ignites your sunsets.

Thomas “Sully” Sullivan
www.thomassullivanauthor.com