Joshua D. Cooke

This past weekend was a long weekend.  There has been a lot of uncertainty and nervousness.  My nerves have been frayed and my stomach has been in knots.  I haven't slept, and the anticipation on the 4th of July admittedly overtook much of my holiday.  I haven't been on a twitter feed like that EVER.  All of this anxiety and worry over a basketball player, a man I have never met and probably never will.  All of this sweat and even tears over someone playing a game for a job, and quite honestly, changing his job because he has a right too.  Some call me unreasonable.  Some say insane.  I have to quit whining and get a life.  It's not worth fretting over or being upset about.  It is irrational.  In some ways, people are right, it is unreasonable. I need to move on.  Another truth is important as well though, and that truth will explain why Gordon Hayward's decision to go to Boston is so impactful to me. I love the Utah Jazz. I always have, and I always will.  No m

The following is the tribute I gave to my Grandma Elia at her memorial service on February 1, 2017, including the poem I wrote in her memory. I love my Grandma Elia.  She will always have a special place in my heart and my memories of her are truly joyful.  Grandma came into my life as a young boy.  I spent a lot of time with Grandpa Paul and Grandma Elia.  We had a lot of wonderful weekends together.  Grandma made a choice very early in my relationship with her, and that is that she was my grandma and I was her grandson.  She did that same for my brothers and sister.  You would never know in any way that we were not related by blood, except she was very clearly Mexican and we were very clearly white!  It was the one difference she was always sure to highlight.  She encouraged me to find a nice Mexican girl who spoke Spanish.  She ended up more than okay with my white blonde-haired choice too. Grandma had a quick wit and a wicked sense of humor.  For all the talk of Grandpa Paul