HEAVEN IS BARCELONA PERIOD.

I write from somewhere over the Western United States. I am on my way back from a truly memorable trip to Barcelona, aka Heaven.

This trip had its ups and down. Hey, anytime, one travels 18 hours to a foreign country, there are bound to be some ups and downs. However, with the exception of the stale air on the plane and the Vega General, or general strike, the trip was nothing but pleasure.

Barcelona is truly a special place unlike anywhere else I have ever been, and this trip did not disappoint. The weather was temperate. The food was delectable. The football was magnificent. The women were beautiful. The people were welcoming and down to earth. The art was masterful. The metro was clean, prompt, and efficient. In sum, the city was breathtaking in every way.

When I try to think of a city that resembles Barcelona, I am truly at a loss.  Sure, there are many other lovely European cities, but none comes close.  In my opinion, the city that comes closest is of all places Portland. Why? Plain and simple it is because of the shear passion and authenticity of the people in both places.  People care about the land in each place, People care about respecting other cultures and ways of life different from their own in each place. People have civic and regional pride in each place. However, Portland can only be considered a lighter, wetter version of Barcelona because of the greater diversity, history, and majesty of the Catalan capital.

One finds one's self drawn to people and places at various stages in one's life. For me, this is my Barcelona stage, and I do not see it ending anytime soon.  Summer family trip anyone? Sabbatical anyone?  I kid you not.  If I were ever to leave Portland, Barcelona would be the top of my list because of the focus on quality of life, work-life balance, peace, and pursuing one's dreams and aspirations.  

Only people like the Catalans that have suffered as much as they have under Spain and others can truly appreciate the value of life. Only a place influenced by so many different cultures and customs could be so tolerant.  They have seen tyrants, despots, dictators - all Spanish - rule over their land and repress their language and ways of life. It is that history as a backdrop that shapes the Catalan independence  movement. This quote from Napoleon sums up the Catalan people better than anything I could dream up: “Courage isn't having the strength to go on - it is going on when you don't have strength.” 

On November 26, one week from today, we will see what the Catalan people decide when they vote for the new regional government.  I, for one, will be watching.

However, whatever the people decide, I will remain a fan of the city by the sea named after its founder  the Carthaginian leader Hamilcar Barca.  

OLD TALE IN A NEWTOWN

Two days ago 20 beautiful first graders and 6 brave teachers lost their lives. No, this was not a school bus accident or a case of a communicable disease. It was another scourge, however, that took these lives - gun violence.

A deranged young man - it is always a deranged young man - gained access to his mother's vast arsenal. He first took her life. As if that were not tragic enough, he next forcibly entered her workplace - Sandy Hook Elementary School in his hometown of Newtown, CT.

For all we know he may have even once been a student in this same school. However, this did not deter him from brandishing a semi-automatic rifle and terrorizing the entire school and this community.

One can only imagine the screams of those young victims and the cries of those who fought to protect them in vain. The violence of that sound would be deafening. The violence of that sound would surely be seared into our collective consciences. The violence of that sound would surely not fade.

Sadly, the same had probably been said after Columbine, Blacksburg, Tucson, and Aurora. Yet each time, we have moved on. We have forgotten. Our will to have a constructive dialogue on this subject has always waned. Our collective disgust has always subsided. Our pledge to the victims and their families has always been empty.

Yet, Newtown feels different. Newtown is a moment that feels just like its eponym. We have the chance to make things better this time. To make something of this tragedy, to turn carnage into courage. The politics are never convenient or easy. They were not in Gettysburg in 1863. They were not in Selma in 1965. And they will not be in Newtown in 2012.

But the slaying of innocents comes at a time when a lame duck Commander-in-Chief who happens to be the father of two young children is in office. That man, Barack Obama, spoke in solemn tones on the day of the shooting and even more so at the Memorial service tonight. In his tears and through his eyes and words, I heard resolve. I heard empathy. I also heard a call to arms - not against those who fired the guns or who make them - but against ANYONE who would stand in the way of making this society safer for children and citizens, alike.

There can be no greater purpose for a society than protecting its children, he said. They are the most vulnerable among us. Yet, they are also the most important because they are our future. To paraphrase the historian George Santayana, any society that is not willing to protect its future is doomed to repeat the failings of its past. What will it be America? Let the names below be a constant reminder of exactly what is at stake.

GET BUSY DYING, OR GET BUSY LIVING

On the plane ride to Texas, I read - no devoured would be a more fitting description - Christopher Hitchens' posthumous memoir entitled Mortality. I found it somewhat uncanny that I read his book on December 15, 2012 - the exact one year anniversary of Hichens' death. May he rest in peace wherever he is.

In this book, Hitchens chronicles his struggle with metastatic esophageal cancer. His book is one of the most touching and moving descriptions of cancer that I have ever read, and I highly recommend it to you. By the end of an afternoon, you will have finished it, and you will be better off for having done so.

In case you are not familiar with Mr. Hitchens, he is a celebrated atheist and political and cultural critic. He famously decried belief in religion or God. He was a bold, boisterous thinker and speaker, and he made many enemies in his life. Not surprisingly, most of these enemies were on the right side of the political spectrum.

Hitchens' quick wit was matched by his taste for drink, smoke, and the fairer sex. He, himself, describes his hedonistic life in these terms: "In one way, I suppose I have been in 'denial' for some time, knowingly burning the candle at both ends and finding it often gives a lovely light." Poetic.

It is the juxtaposition of Hitchens' liveliness and the shear brutality of his cancer and cancer treatment that makes Mortality so compelling. For a man who does not believe in God or heaven, what drives one to fight for one's life? Simply put, it is love of life and all the people on this earth that make one's life worth living. In that sense, Hitchens is no different from any other cancer patient, but one can feel how much this life, the only life he believes matters or exists, means to him. 

I always respect my patients' right to fight for whatever they believe and to believe in whatever helps them get through the day. However, as a non-believer, I found myself strangely drawn to Hitchens and his approach to cancer - clinical, practical yet hopeful, but never sacrosanct or pitiable. Bad things happen to all people. Life is not fair. No one beyond ourselves can be blamed.

Hitchens writes evocatively of living dyingly with cancer. It is a reminder for us all who are well to live livingly, to enjoy every breath, every sip, every taste, and every moment. 

I quote another philosopher - the country singer Tim McGraw- when I attempt to inspire my patients who are in remission and those who are dying,  alike. I use the most simple yet powerful aphorism I have ever heard. 

Simply put, live like you were dying!

TOP CLASS

It is no secret that Nicholas is a soccer fan. However, it is also clear that he is becoming quite a soccer aficionado.

Today, I went to the pitch at my niece's school with her, Nicholas, and my dad. Nicholas was confident, poised, and deliberate. He looked and played like a mini version of his hero Xavi Hernandez, Barca's midfield maestro and possibly the best to ever play that position.

Nicholas' love of playing soccer is only matched by his love of studying it - watching highlights, reading magazines, looking at the "table," or standings, and constantly discussing the game with me. He loves that soccer is a global game, and he loves learning about the geography and history of the teams.

His knowledge is encyclopedic, and his tastes have become more refined. One recent morning he said, "Dad, I am getting tired of U.S. Major League Soccer. It is just not top class." He is 7 mind you.

With that in mind, after we played at my niece's school, we watched the highlights of the Club World Cup.  The final match pitted the Champions of Europe - Chelsea from England -  and the Champions of South America - Corinthians from Brazil. Chelsea lost the match 1-0. The lone goal was scored by Paolo Guerrero.

Afterwards, Nicholas said he was glad that Corinthians had won because they were from Peru, which is one of his favorite countries. I corrected him saying that Corinthians were from Brazil. He protested saying that one of the players was holding a Peruvian flag after the match. I said he must have been mistaken and changed the subject to avoid a fight.  We moved on, and this dispute never came up again.

However, before I began to write this piece, I read an article about the match. Guerrero, it turns out, is a Peruvian. I stand corrected about the flag.

Top class. Nicholas is top class indeed.