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2月22日 Soundtrack Of My Life“It may be that your sole purpose in life is simply to serve as a warning to others.”
~Adversities Quote
“There are only two tragedies in life: one is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it.”
~ Oscar Wilde
“Life is a moderately good play with a badly written third act.”
~Truman Capote
In keeping with the ideals of the Thieves Guild and because we are all good pirates who listen and obey our Captain Kalli (especially when she’s a watch’in). She plundered this from a Giraffe of all things (By God she’s good) and then calmly suggested (by scabbards end) that we should post them ourselves.
IF YOUR LIFE WAS A MOVIE, WHAT WOULD THE SOUNDTRACK BE? So, here's how it works: 1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc) 2. Put it on shuffle 3. Press play 4. For every question, type the song that's playing 5. When you go to a new question, press the next button Opening Credits: The Eve Of The War – Jeff Wayne (War Of The Worlds) Waking Up: Look Into The Eyeball – David Byrne First Day At School: Don’t Fear The Reaper – Blue Oyster Cult Falling In Love: Oh Yeah – Yello Fight Song: Love’s Devine – Seal >>>> (WHAT THE ‘F’!!!) Breaking Up: I’d Do Anything For Love (But I Won’t Do That) – Meat Loaf Prom: You And Me (Life House) Life's OK: Who Wants To Live Forever - Queen Mental Breakdown: Superman (It’s Not Easy) – Five For Fighting Driving: Survival Of The Sickest - Saliva Flashback: Highland Farewell – Steve McDonald Getting Back Together: 1st Samurai - Nujabes >>>>(What The Flying ‘F’!!!) Wedding: The Raven – Alan Parsons Project (Tales Of Mystery and Imagination) Birth of Child: In This Life – Colin Raye Final Battle: Holding Out For A Hero – Bonnie Tyler Death Scene: Simple And Clean – Utada Hikaru Funeral Song: I’m Gonna Wash That Man Right Out Of My Hair – South Pacific Soundtrack >>>> ALRIGHT, HOW THE FRICKEN FLYING ‘F’ DID THIS GET ON MY COMPUTER…W I F E !!!!!!!!!
2月21日 Holy Ectoplasmic Snapshot Batman“Behind every man now alive stand 30 ghosts, for that is the ratio by which the dead outnumber the living.”
~ARTHUR C. CLARKE, 2001: A Space Odyssey
“It is wonderful that five thousand years have now elapsed since the creation of the world, and still it is undecided whether or not there has ever been an instance of the spirit of any person appearing after death. All argument is against it; but all belief is for it.”
~SAMUEL JOHNSON, The Life of Samuel Johnson
“Feet, don’t fail me now.”
~Anyone who has seen a ghost
A little while back, DD was cleaning her room when she ran across something she had forgotten about, something she wanted to forget about.
A couple of years previous she and a friend had gone to the local Wal-Mart to get some pictures developed. Still having several photos left in the camera, she decided to just fire off a couple of shots just to use up the roll; Just a couple of pictures of the picturesque setting of the worlds largest discount retailer.
Then she got the pictures back.
Everything was good until she reached the final photo in the pack. What she saw startled her and her friend (who ended up with duplicates). They took it to several friends who were, or knew professional photographers, to have it analyzed. No one could figure out how it was done, but they all said that it did not appear to be a camera malfunction. DD and her friend stated that it was a fine sunny day (As it always is inside a Wal-Mart) and that there were no obstructions, be it light or glass or person.
The picture really creeped her out and so she decided not to get rid of it, but to just hide it away under a metallic ‘nic-nak’ box.
She promptly forgot the whole thing.
Until she decided in a rare moment to clean her room.
I fear she will now never clean her room again.
You be the judge:
* The mark near the left corner of the picture is a rust stain from the metalic 'nic-nak' box
© 2007 2月14日 Love is in the air“True love does not come by finding the perfect person, but by learning to see an imperfect person perfectly”
~Jason Jordan
“Whosoever loves much performs much, and can accomplish much, and what is done in love is done well”
~ Vincent Van Gogh
“Everyone says ‘I Love You’… So what do you think Columbus do when a he a get here in 1492, he said to Pocahontas ‘Atcha Gucchi Gucchi Goo’ which means you little son of a gun ‘I Love You’”
~Chico Marx
Love is in the air….
So is the flu.
Today is Valentines Day, a day that is celebrated by the time honored tradition of women who plan for weeks what they will bestow on their special someone and of men, rushing out at the last minute to get their special someone that special card and that special I-totally-forgot-today-was-valentines-day-until-I-heard-that-commercial-on-the-radio-coming-home-and-thank-God-for-the-never-fails-to-have-on-hand-display-at the-drug-store box o’ chocolates.
I love my wife more than anything else on this planet, but I hate Valentines Day, not for what it represents, but because once again we have this merchant induced ‘holiday’ that tells us we must Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, oh yeah and, BLAH!
I don’t need a special day to tell me to show my wife that I love her, by getting her this special diamond or these beautiful arrangement of flowers or this cannot fail box of chocolates, I told her on our wedding day that I loved her and that if anything were to change, that I would let her know. Actually, I tell her everyday that I love her, and it really is more than just a way to end a phone call to her.
I first laid eyes on her in 7th grade and for me it really was love a first sight. I know it was different for her; she is a much smarter person than that. She is the kind that will research something – to death, and then make a decision. I on the other hand am an impulsive individual and my research into something usually goes like this:
“Mmmmmm, shiny, I want it”.
She was Shiny.
In the typical fashion of a thirteen-year-old male, I made no doubt about the fact that I loved her. How?, I acted goofy around her; I would bowl my text book down the long hallway and into the open door of our classroom to try to land it under her feet as she sat at her desk by the door; I would have wooden ruler sword fights with other idiots in the class (and let me tell you, there is a lot of pain that that goes with this rite of stupidity); anything to make her laugh,get me noticed and by proxy, make myself and my feelings known to her. Everything that is except to say ‘I love you’ (or the young teenager version; Um, I really like you and would you um like to um maybe go to a um movie or um um um um um …..).
I was not that brave and I was very clumsy with words, so the clown act would have to be the doorway to her heart.
Stalking her also became a handy tool to my homemade cupid’s arsenal. Not the serious stalking that we hear about today, basically I would just try to be wherever I overheard she would be and make it seem like a complete coincidence. Success would be that she would actually see me as I pretended not to see her and if fortune were to truly shine down on me, she might even come over and say “Hi”.
I also took up running at this time. She lived several blocks away from me so it was easy to come up with a running course that circled around the area of her house, but (and this was super clever of me) never past her house. This would assure that if she were out and about, that I had a very good chance of running into her (excuse the pun), without making it look like I was just stalking her. This activity also proved that love is very healthy for you; all that running had me in the best shape of my life.
Keep in mind that this was not a 24/7 plan. I did have a life outside of my quest for love.
I had ‘guy’ things to do, which are too long to recount here but suffice it to say that as I look back on them now, I truly did have a lot of fun. But those are stories for another time.
Several years past; Junior High turned into Senior High School and it was during this time, the spring of our 10th grade year to be exact, that my long term labor of love came to fruition; Yes I know, three years is a long time for seeds to sprout but I was trying to build a house not with a hammer and saw, but with a rock and a knife; not at all the proper tools, but if it is what you got, you use it and eventually it will get the job done. I also had refined my ‘get the girl’ technique with the addition of actually meeting her by her locker during the day just to say hi and talk a little before we were off to our separate classes. Never anything more than that, for while I was in love, I didn’t know if she were interested at all in me and I was too afraid of losing even the slightest hope of there ever being anything between us by doing something stupid like saying; Um, I really like you and would you um like to um maybe go to a um movie or um um um um um …
It was the evening of the Senior class school play ‘Carousel’. I arrived about a half hour early and took a seat around the middle section of the auditorium; waiting for her to walk in (and also to see the show; Really. I have always been a fan of old movies and Carousel was always a favorite and as luck would have it, she too was a fan of old movies, especially the musicals. SO THERE!). About ten minutes later, she walked in with several friends and took seats about five rows in front of me. After sitting down, I saw her look around the auditorium to see the turnout and then turn back to face the front and talk to her friends. Oh well, she didn’t see me, but I saw her and that would be OK for now. There would always be an exiting chance to bump into her and at the very least, I would get to see a good play. Or so I thought.
Just as the lights dimmed for the play to begin, I watched her get up out of her seat, walk back five rows and take a different seat; the one that happened to be right next to me. She may have asked me if I minded her sitting there, I can’t say for sure because there was a loud noise in my ears like standing next to a water falls, but I must have said something clever like “Ah no”, because she remained. And just as the play began, she reached over a held my hand.
I do not recall the play at all, just the rushing sound in my ears, the pouning in my chest and the touch of her hand, but I do remember it as being the best play I ever attended and to this day, Carousel is my favorite movie musical.
Everything changed after that night. I no longer was a peripheral object around her life but someone in her life, and this was plain to see by anyone who took notice of the boy and the girl who were often with each other and holding hands. I also realize that the route I took to get to that point was like trying to get to Canada from New Jersey by way of the South Pole, but it was the only way I knew and so I took my prolonged route one step at a time, but I did made it.
Some say that we were meant to be together and that it would have happened no matter what, and perhaps they are right. But I also like to believe that for once in my life, being a coward actually was the correct path to take; it was so hard fought for in my mind that I never take her being with me for granted. She deserves so much better than me, but I could have not done better than her in a thousand lifetimes.
So I sit here on this snowy Valentines Day, thirty-six years after I first set eyes on the only girl for me, without a card and without a box of chocolates. The snow has kept both of us at home along with the kids who have no school. She will bake cookies as she always does on these winter mornings and she will put aside a good portion of them just for me. She looks out the window at the snow, turns and says “Valentines Day couldn’t get any better than this”. In a couple of days, we will go out to dinner and have our ‘Valentines Night together, on our terms and not Hallmark’s or Godiva’s or any of the other entities out there trying to make a buck off my hard work. And I will look across the table into the eyes that I can never stop gazing into, and wonder how I ever Really got fortunate enough to be with this woman.
Love is in the air; it's the air we both breath every day.
© 2007 2月9日 The Vow“Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words, and never stops at all.” ~Emily Dickenson
“Death--- the last sleep? No, the final awakening.”
~Walter Scott
“Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever.”
~Mahatma Gandhi
What is (very) weird about me #2
As I had previously noted in my Pulitzer Award winning article (Translation: My Wife liked it and gave me a kiss),
‘What Is Weird About Me #6’, I am a Grave Walker. Part of how I catalog entries for the database, is to photograph the headstone and use it later to upload both the photo and the inscription details to an internet database (read the previously mentioned article for full details (you know you want to)).
Every now and then I photograph one that for one reason or another touches me more than any other, and I usually find it is a simple stone with little writing, but big on emotion. As I’ve said before, the stones represent the loss to the living, by the living, so each stone is a tangible, long fixed in time icon of a person’s grief and not just a marker for the departed.
Sometimes stones such as these stir me in such a way that I can’t stop thinking about the person who left this sentiment of grief behind and this thought will grab hold of me sometimes for days unless I do something about it. The way I deal with it is through writing, and when it comes to writing about the dead, it is usually a poem. From their perspective. Of the dead that is.
I’ve never made any secret of the fact that I am weird.
But this is not a fixation on the dead; it is a fixation on life. Everyone of us, with the exception of the Highlander and Fruit Cake, have numbered days in this world and going into these sacred resting places to record and even write about them, helps me to remember just that. We all become too cozy with the ‘here and now’ and often fool ourselves into believing that the inevitable is so far off, that the really important things; healing old or new wounds, extending a helping hand to someone in need, communicating with family and friends or just simply saying ‘I love you’, we think can easily be done ‘tomorrow’. That is, until that certain moment when we find it is too late.
I write from the perspective of the dead because they are the ones to remind us that tomorrow is never a promise.
I simply give them a voice.
The Vow
Be not sad that I am gone
And that our vows now part,
Do not feel you can’t go on
With now an empty heart.
Do not cry with a belief
That now you are alone,
Do not sit in darkened rooms
Within an empty home.
Remember me within your heart
And always hold me dear,
For in that place I cannot die
And will be always near.
For when at last our waiting ends
Forever we shall be,
Embraced within each others arms,
Never parted you, from me.
© 2007 2月5日 STUFF YOU CAN'T JUST MAKE UP... Chapter 2"And in the end, it's not the years in your life that count. It's the life in your years".
~Abraham Lincoln
"Expect nothing, live frugally on surprise".
~Alice Walker
"The only danger is if they send us to that terrible planet of the apes".
~Homer Simpson
My wife told me a story that had been told to her by her sister, which was so Seinfeld-ish in nature that I had to ask my sister in law myself if it were true. She assured me that it was. And so I present to you, this strange and mysterious tale (with all due apologies to Clement Clarke Moore).
WITHOUT A LEG TO STAND ON
T’was a day in October of just this past year
A fine sunny day with the sky bright and clear,
The leaves were all nestled in their branches still green
With only a hint of their true colors sheen.
Allen the father and Connie his wife
Took Scott their first born and Jen, who followed later in life,
To the Super Mega theme park just an hour away
And spend a small fortune to have a fun day.
So following their journey they entered the gate
After being on a line (another hour’s wait),
To stand at the threshold of this theme park Nirvana
“Mom can we get something to eat, we wanna, we wanna!”
So after the eating (which cost fifty bucks more)
And finding the bathrooms (which was no easy chore),
They headed on out to hit their first ride
But as usual they would find no luck on their side.
Because Scott is a thinker and careful to weigh
Any danger from any ride that may come his way,
So wouldn’t you know it that the first ride they hit,
Would cause him to ponder and so he did sit.
For you see it was not just your regular ride
Not the kind that the kiddies could ever abide,
It was the newest and biggest and fastest at hand
And none but the bravest would it now demand.
It loomed great before him, a menacing site
By its very nature a cold hearted fright,
Its great looping motion and bone chilling sweeps
With legs dangling wildly from its open air seats
The Angel of Death was it’s true given name
With promises of terror of thrills and of pain,
The biggest and baddest roller coaster around
Where truly great danger must surely abound.
So Scott found himself now all worried with fear
If he went on this ride that true danger be near,
So he sat on a bench that also bordered a lake
For he knew that he had a decision to make.
Always so careful to calculate risk
No matter the venue, no matter place
His family knew better than to try to berate
So they went on without him and he, to their fate.
He studied the framework, calculated the curves
Read into the screams from overhead he overheard,
Ever careful to measure every aspect of danger
If he were to climb onto this body re-arranger.
He watched and he watched and he watched the great ride
To see if there was really some true terror to spy,
And yet no matter how much he thought about going
He just could not get past the un-reconciled unknowing.
And just when he thought perhaps he would change his mind
There came to him a message of the life changing kind,
From somewhere above and slightly stage right
Came an answer that was of an unusual sight.
It wasn’t a bird and it wasn’t a plane
And it sure as hell wasn’t jolly Santa and sleigh,
But what was it that to his eyes should appear,
But a leg that had fallen from off somebody’s rear.
It rocketed at him at such a great rate
That he screamed like a girl and ducked not a moment too late,
For it zoomed over head and just missing its mark,
To land in the lake, by the ride, in the park.
He couldn’t believe it, he was actually right,
That EVIL contraption tried to kill him this night,
And as he stood there a shaking, a crowd started to form,
To see the leg floating there, by just a few feet or more.
In the meantime for mother and father and daughter
The ride was now over and they started to un-board her,
They remarked how it was truly so thrilling and fun
But now it was time to go get their son.
As they exited the ride what strange sight should they see
But a man with one leg that ended at the knee,
He was sitting quite calmly but somewhat perturbed
That his artificial leg flew off when they rounded the curve.
When they got to the spot where they last left their son
They saw that a work crew had found the leg on the run,
They were fishing it out of the lake that did hold it
And Scott filled them in on the epic that unfolded.
“So now you see Scott”, they started to say,
“That the true danger was not on the ride, but the staying away”,
“And if you had joined us, then you too would now see,
That to enjoy your life fully, you must set your fears free”.
He pondered a moment at what they had stated,
For it was true that his fears could be too overrated,
So then he announced to his family and said;
“The next time you want to go out and have fun, I’ll just stay in my bed”.
2月1日 Things about me you didn't know you cared aboutWhat Is Weird About Me #3
I stole this survey from Melisa (I know no shame), Who in turn lifted it from a Pirate named PD (By permission (and who wouldn't give permission to a pirate?)), and was later absconed by my brother (shame is sooo overrated).
1. Were you named after anyone? Nope, I’m an original
2. Are you an only child? 2 younger brothers; versions 2.0 and 3.0
3. Do you like your handwriting? No, and I blame computers for this just as I blame calculators for my all but vanished math skills.
4. What is your favorite lunch meat? Turkey (you are what you eat)
5. Do you have kids? 2. Actually 3 if you count the dog (she’s the best kid I have; always listens to me and greets me when I come home, simply because I’m me and not because I carry a wallet).
6. If you were another person would you be friends with you? For some reason, I’m tripping all over this one. Too vague I guess.
7. Do you sarcasm a lot? Have you never read my blog?
8. Do you still have your tonsils? No, traded them in for a boat load of vanilla ice cream decades ago. The 2nd best deal I ever made!
9. Would you bungee jump? NO, I have issues with jumping off or out of perfectly good objects.
10. What is your favorite cereal? Cheerios (since the beginning of time)
11. Do you untie your shoes when you take them off? NO, untying them in the deep dark of the morning to put them back on is a real eye opener
12. Do you think you are strong? Physically yes; emotionally is debatable
13. What is your favorite ice cream? I think I’ve already made that painfully (tonsils) clear.
14. What is the first thing you notice about people? I always shoot for the eyes, the rest is just upholstery
15. Red or Pink? Both; my wife looks HOT in either!
16. What is the least favorite thing about yourselfl? I am the king of procrastination.
17. Who do you miss the most? My dad and the missed opportunities
18. Do you want everyone to send this back to you? Well, I stole this in the first place, but if you want to form a thief’s guild, I’m good with that.
19. What color pants and shoes are you wearing right now? Blue jeans and brown house shoes (fancy word for slippers – hey, it’s cold outside baby!)
20. What is the last thing you ate? McDonalds French fries (So damned addictive)
21. What are you listening to right now? Il Divo (from off of Vallerie’s space. I’ve been listening to this same song over and over. Can’t seem to get enough of it)
22. If you were a crayon what color would you be? Any color that is an autumn color
23. Favorite smells? Wood fires, baking cookies, coffee in the morning, my wife’s hair
24. Who was the last person you talked on the phone to? My wife telling me she was on her way home (snuggling awaits her)
25. Do you like the person who sent this to you? Again, this is a stolen item, but yes she reminds me a lot of me (hey, I guess I just answered question #6)
26. Favorite sports to watch? My wife and daughter when they are having one of their ‘Discussions’
27. Hair color? Medium brown thanks to my parents which is mixed with grey thanks to my kids
28. Eye color? Very very dark brown, friends tell me that they are very deep. My wife says it’s because I’m full of s#!t
29. Do you wear contacts? I used to but just couldn’t put up with the hassle anymore
30. Favorite food? Chinese and Pizza
31. Scary movies or happy endings? Always been a sucker for horror movies, but I am a closet fan of the feel good flicks
32. Last movie you watched? The Matchmaker
33. What color shirt are you wearing? Black mock turtleneck with a heavy weight green shirt over it – hey I already told you, its cold outside!
34. Summer or Winter? Fall, spring, winter and summer in that order
35. Hugs or Kisses? Are we talking chocolate here or the cuddly kind? I guess that would be a 'both' and 'BOTH'
36. Favorite dessert? Apple pie, peach pie and anything else involving vanilla, coconut or banana ice cream.
37. Most likely to respond? My brother (if I were to send this on)
38. Least likely to respond? The IRS
39. What book are you reading? Currently ‘Murder Most Scottish’. I’m a sucker for anything involving Scotland
40. What is on your mouse pad? My Mouse
41. What did you watch on TV last night? Heroes marathon on SciFi
42. What is your favorite sound? A wood fire, Thunder storms and the sound of wind
43. Rolling Stones or the Beatles? Neither (and this fulfills ‘What Is Weird About Me # 3)
44. What is the furthest you've been from home? Scotland. Hoping for a return trip soon
45. Do you have a special talent? I would like to say writing but that’s not up to me. I would have to say for myself, it is my ability to bend Space, Time and the Truth.
46. Where were you born? Elizabeth NJ; at least that’s what my 'adopted' parents tell me. I have evidence that I come from Mars (I read it in a book once)
47. (My addition to the original list) Who do you most resemble? I look like a Greek God… That has seen better days
© 2007 1月31日 Time Travel 101"Time is a companion that goes with us on a journey. It reminds us to cherish each moment, because it will never come again. What we leave behind is not as important as how we have lived".
~ Captain Jean-Luc Picard from the movie "Star Trek: Generations"
"Lost, yesterday, somewhere between Sunrise and Sunset, two golden hours, each set with sixty diamond minutes. No reward is offered for they are gone forever”.
~ Horace Mann
"Time flies like an arrow, fruit flies like a banana".
~ Groucho Marx
What Is Weird About Me #4
Ever since I was a little kid I have been obsessed by the idea of traveling through time, well that and flying. To this day I still fantasize about it. This is why one of my favorite shows today is ‘Heroes’. It used to be ‘Lost’ until I got lost with the plotline after a couple of misses, but then again, was their ever really a plotline. Now that I think about it, the plotline was about as coherent as the theme song (those of you who watch the show know what I mean). Mostly it seemed we got jerked around from week to week with promises of answers to questions that never materialized, and an extra side helping of more questions was added to our plate. After a while I basically told the show to get Lost. But with ‘Heroes’, a weekly tale of ordinary people suddenly endowed with abilities far beyond those of mere mortals, I get answers, not more riddles. Riddles I got up the yazwho; “WHO USED UP ALL THE GOD DAMNED HOT WATER?”, “Honey what is this green stuff in the fridge and is it still good?”, “I walked into this room for a purpose and now that I am here, I can’t remember what it was I came here for!” and of course the classic: What is the safe answer to “Honey, does this make me look fat?”.
In ‘Heroes’ my favorite characters are Hiro Nakamura the time traveler and Nathan Petrelli who can fly (yeah I know he's a jerk, but he can fly!). I want to do these things and fortunately for me I do fly, through dreams. These are the best dreams. When I fly, it always is a new discovery and it seems so natural to do that I wonder why I never thought of it before. The best part is that I’m the only one who can do it, so once again that makes me special. I wake up disappointed that the dream is over, but by God, for a short time, I was flying and these dreams I always remember.
Time travel on the other hand is something that I can do during the waking hours and without the use of Mr. Peabody’s ‘Way Back’ machine. It is not a journey of the body, but of the mind and the mechanism used is music.
I travel all the time.
We all have experienced the power of a piece of music that acts like a bookmark in our life’s ongoing story and when those musical chords start up, its as if we are transported to that moment when both the music and ourselves were younger. Pictures capture a moment and we get to see how it was. With music we not only see the picture as a fluid reality, but we experience the emotions that went along with it.
The other day I was making my way back home from work when the radio began to play Elton John’s ‘Can You Feel The Love Tonight’ and I was instantaneously transported to the year 1994. I found myself in a movie theater that we used to always take the kids to. It was one of those Mom & Pop style movie houses that unlike the monster 127 screen movie chains, had 1 or 2 screens and where the person who sold you the tickets was the daughter of the person selling you popcorn and she, the wife of the gentleman who took your tickets and ran the projector, just like they all were when I was a kid. We took my then 8 year old daughter and 5 year old son to see Disney’s ‘The Lion King’ movie. The moment I was transported to was the very end of the movie. The credits were rolling and we were standing just outside the door to the auditorium where the door to the projection room was located. The layout was in such a way that the projection room was on the same level with the lobby. The door stood open so that we could see the projector running and still see the movie screen at the same time. My daughter stood in front of my wife with my wife’s hands on my daughter’s shoulders and my son was sitting upright in my arms. Both of them were looking at the projector and the screen beyond it as the projectionist explained to them how the movie gets from point ‘A’ to Point ‘B’. They both looked as if they were witnessing the miracle of the parting of the Red Sea. To them it was almost as entertaining as the movie itself was.
There I was driving the car and yet at the same moment, I was standing in that movie theater 13 years previous with my son in my arms. I could feel the weight of him and smell the remnants of the candy that clung to his hands. I could feel my wife and daughter standing next to me and through it all, the ending credits song ‘Can You Feel The Love Tonight’, playing in the background.
The song ends and so does the trip back. The fleeting edges of the ‘reality’ are replaced by just the memory, and then comes the eventual side affect of time travel; the sadness.
The memory is a wonderful one, but the reality is that it is the past and gone. My daughter is now 20 and my son is almost 18 and both are no longer amazed by the simple things. They are testing wings for the eventual departure from the nest, to begin lives that for the most part will not have a daily interface or input from us. And this is why a wonderful memory is bittersweet, at least for now. My children are still with us but not for long. To see what I am going to lose makes this type of time trip hard. One day when my wife and I have settled into a life of ‘just us again’, I will be able to repeat this trip and it will be different; it will be a happy moment revisited over and over again.
Just not now.
There are many time periods today that I like to revisit and the music is there to transport me.
For those moments that I cannot visit now, they are musically bookmarked and it is enough to know that they are there when the time comes to revisit them.
I will always hold my children inside my heart, but sometimes even now, no matter how old they get, I still feel the need to hold them up in my arms.
 * Mr Peabody (the dog) and Sherman (for those of you who are cartoonally challenged)© 2007 1月24日 STUFF YOU JUST CAN’T MAKE UP… Chapter 1Yesterday I needed a laugh and luckily I got it via an email from my cousin TD. Usually I give them a look over and then toss them without forwarding on. Not because I think that they have no merit, but I try to keep email down to a minimum so as to not clog up the mailboxes of others and only rarely pass them on. But this one was really good and since I was already working on a series of too good to be true stories, this one seemed to fit right in and albeit not by my hand, I think I will make this one exception.
True or not; enjoy.
They're Back! Church Bulletins: Thank God for the church ladies who type them. These sentences actually appeared in church bulletins or were announced in church services:
---------------------------------------------------------------------- The Fasting & Prayer Conference includes meals. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- The sermon this morning: "Jesus Walks on the Water." The sermon tonight: "Searching for Jesus." ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Our youth basketball team is back in action Wednesday at 8 PM in the recreation hall. Come out and watch us kill Christ the King. --------------------------------------------------------------- ------- Ladies, don't forget the rummage sale. It's a chance to get rid of those things not worth keeping around the house. Bring your husbands. ----------------------------------------------------------------- ---- The peacemaking meeting scheduled for today has been canceled due to a conflict. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Remember in prayer the many who are sick of our community. Smile at someone who is hard to love. Say "Hell" to someone who doesn't care much about you. --------------------------------------------------------------------- Don't let worry kill you off - let the Church help. --------------------------------------------------------------------- Miss Charlene Mason sang "I will not pass this way again," giving obvious pleasure to the congregation. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- For those of you who have children and don't know it, we have a nursery downstairs. ------------------ ---------------------------------------------------- Next Thursday there will be tryouts for the choir. They need all the help they can get. --------------------------------------------------------------------- The Rector will preach his farewell message after which the choir will sing: "Break Forth Into Joy." --------------------------------------------------------------------- Irving Benson and Jessie Carter were married on October 24 in the church. So ends a friendship that began in their school days. ------------------------------------------------ At the evening service tonight, the sermon topic will be "What Is Hell?" Come early and listen to our choir practice. ------------------------------------------------ Eight new choir robes are currently needed due to the addition of several new members and to the deterioration of some older ones. ----------------------------------- ---------------------------------- Scouts are saving aluminum cans, bottles and other items to be recycled. Proceeds will be used to cripple children. --------------------------------------------------------------------- Please place your donation in the envelope along with the deceased person you want remembered. --------------------------------------------------------------------- The church will host an evening of fine dining, super entertainment and gracious hostility. ------------------------------------------------- -------------------- Potluck supper Sunday at 5:00 PM - prayer and medication to follow. --------------------------------------------------------------------- Ladies Bible Study will be held Thursday morning at 10 AM. All ladies are invited to lunch in the Fellowship Hall after the B. S. is done. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- The pastor would appreciate it if the ladies of the congregation would lend him their electric girdles for the pancake breakfast next Sunday.
--------------------------------------------------------------------- The Low Self Esteem Support Group will meet Thursday at 7 PM. Please use the back door. --------------------------------------------------------------------- The eighth-graders will be presenting Shakespeare's Hamlet in the Church basement Friday at 7 PM . The congregation is invited to attend this tragedy. ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----- Weight Watchers will meet at 7 PM at the First Presbyterian Church. Please use large double door at the side entrance. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- The Associate Minister unveiled the church's new tithing campaign slogan last Sunday: "I Upped My Pledge - Up Yours 1月21日 Enemy Mine“Never yield to force; never yield to the apparently overwhelming might of the enemy.”
~ Winston Churchill
“It's hard to fight an enemy who has outposts in your head.”
~ Sally Kempton
“Enemy fighters at two o’clock”.
“Roger. What should I do until then?”
~ Bill Watterson
What Is Weird About Me #5
In my journey through the valley of shadow I have learned many things when it comes to my enemy and for the most part, it is has nothing to do with another persons acrimonious feelings to you or vice a versa. Oh I know that these types are out there; everything from the fellow office worker who has it out for you to the full blown terrorist, who would love nothing better than to see you dead simply because you are not like them. A watchful eye can and should always be out for these types and if necessary, enjoined in battle with careful steps to ensure we do not become like them in the process. My Enemy are cold and calculating, with no truer purpose to their existence than to make sure that they instill within me an anger that would make Darth Vader truly proud to call me ‘Son’. They are more insidious than the human or animal entity because when wronged by such as these, we can always turn to the law for help. But My Enemy is not of flesh and blood and when it comes to the battle, I cannot turn to the law, because they are the law, and I must battle them alone with nary a Sancho Panza to aid me. No pleading, no begging and no quarter given. I hate them.
Don Quixote had his windmills to slay, Saint George his dragon, Gandalf his Saurman, Captain Ahab against the great heart of the ocean; Moby Dick, and I Rocas, must battle every pre-dawn hour, five days a week with the heart of darkness:
TRAFFIC LIGHTS.
Oh I mean more than just your toss of an expletive deleted at these cruel automatons. What I’m talking about is a full out menu of curses; both the foul language and mystical spell casting kind, with all the crucial hand gesturing that goes with it. I’m talking about heaps of ridicule tossed upon these uncaring drones while I sit there and wait for phantom cars to come out of empty shopping mall parking lots and deserted cross streets at 3:30 in the morning.
Now let me plead my case for those of you who have decided (and rightfully so) that I am a nut job. I live in central New Jersey and commute five days a week to Delaware where I work. That’s 225 miles and 4 ½ hours round trip each day. I used to work 12 miles from my home to a job I absolutely hated. When that facility closed down, I accepted a job with the same company 112 miles from my home. I do the same work I did before with virtually the same people, but this time it’s a job I truly like and yes I know, I am Bass Ackwards. But I have always loved to drive, especially at night and so far so good, the commute really doesn't bother me. When I tell people of my commute however, they look at me as though I had two heads and a heinous booger dangling from my nose (STOP LOOKING AT MY NOSE!). The reason (and not me) is very simple; At the time I took the job, my son still had two years of high school to go and there was no way in hell that I was going to make him basically start all over again with new school and friends simply for my convenience. Once he starts college, momma and I can go wherever we seem fit, including staying put if need be.
Now if you were to know me personally you would find that I am a pretty calm and friendly individual who always tries to find the better nature in everyone I deal with, no matter if they happen to be a rotten son of a bitch. However, if you were to see me in the wee hours of the morning as I verbally combat these assailers of my smooth cruise into work, you would undoubtfully ask yourself one of two things; ‘Do the bars stay open this late into the night?’ Or ‘I wonder if this would be considered a mercy killing?’
Aside from the very beginning and end, the trip is all highway and it is the first hour of local highway that contains this battlefield. Alone in the night, I can see the enemy approaching for some distance off. It is usually green from the first moment I spot it way off yonder and it remains that way until just before I would reach the point of no return, where I would be able to safely and legally cruise thru it.
It doesn’t matter if I speed up or slow down because they watch and wait. There are 28 traffic lights between me and my goal, and I know them all by name. There are the ‘3 witch sisters’ who are clustered very close together and who’s timing is so far off that a person using a walker would beat me through these bitches. There is ‘Mordicai the Night Mechanic’, this one likes to turn from red to green as I get closer to it, only to turn red again just in time for me to have to hit the breaks. And then there is ‘Sidekick Seditious’, a blinking light at this time of the morning with the yield to me. This one has a partner in the way of a truck or car that, if this significant other had not been there, would have allowed me an easy breeze through. Yet as sure as there is a God in Heaven and a bill in my mailbox, I can always count on this lone motorized counterpart to be there and going just slow enough to force me to a complete stop. I mean come on people, does no one else see the hand of Satan here!
Among the others are Wormwood, Zorn - Destroyer of Hope, Ming the Merciless, Romulus the Spiteful and of course Robert (named after a boyhood nemesis that I to this day fantasize about running into). The rest are unpronounceable because by the time I get to them, I am literally speaking in tongues or, they are too foul in nature to put down in print (my mother may be watching).
Eventually I reach the gatekeeper to the smooth flowing interstate highway, and its name is Scorn. Always green, but as I view its retreating image for several miles in my rearview mirror, I can see its glee and hear its fading laughter which promises that tomorrow is another day.
The dark envelop of the highway now comforts me; the soothing refrains of Enya now calm me (stop laughing, I like Enya!). These next 72 miles will restore me to functional human status. I begin my workday in a potentially hostile manufacturing environment knowing that I will be calm and professional because when it comes to stress: Been there, done that.
The ride home in the afternoon is as normal for me as everyone else. The lights behave themselves and appear to have no black soul at all, just simple machines with a pre-programmed, non-prejudicial task and I am treated no worse than the hundreds of other drivers around me. I suspect that this is because there are too many witnesses on the road. Clever Bastards.
Day becomes evening and then night and as I prepare for bed, I think on the morning past and realize that it is a battle waged in my head alone, That there are no demons on the highway and that it is probably stress from the previous day that is finally making its way to the surface.
“Go to bed and get some rest”, I say to myself. “Tomorrow is another day”.
I crawl into bed and read a couple pages from my book (which is currently ‘Murder Most Scottish’), Turn out the light, Kiss my wife goodnight and drift off to sleep.
2:30am
The alarm clock rings.
© 2007
1月14日 Through Her Eyes“I used to think anyone doing anything weird was weird. Now I know that it is the people that call others weird that are weird.”
~ Paul McCartney
“Life isn't weird: it's just the people in it.”
~ Stephen Wright
~ Tom Robbins
My brother challenged me a few weeks back to what appears to me as a bloggers version of chain mail. You know what I mean; you get an email with some message that states that if you send this to 5, 10 or 100 friends within the next 10 minutes you will have amazing luck, your greatest wish will come true, you will get a million dollars or you will get a big penis BUT, if you don’t forward it off in the prescribed time period, your daughter will marry a NASCAR fan with two front teeth, who has several smelly hound dogs that live under the front porch and a family tree that more resembles a telephone pole (and you will get a small penis). I usually just file this stuff away under: ‘Delete’ which is a very useful folder that I put away the items that I will perpetually get to tomorrow.
The challenge was this: to write six weird things about yourself and then to ‘tag’ six other bloggers to do the same. Now I am new to this ‘blogging’ thing and I don't know six other bloggers and even if I did, I'm not in the practice of doing stuff like this even if there is no prize or curse involved. My brother is not in the habit of sending me crap like the afore mentioned Chain Mails and the idea intrigued me, so in my response back I said that I would do it, but I've decided instead to focus on it as a series of stories to describe myself to all .5 of my readers and not to make it a task for someone with a small penis to have to pass on down the line.
But right out of the gate I was faced with a problem; list ONLY six things that were weird about me. It would have been easier for me to list six things that were NOT weird about me. So after careful thought and a couple of beers in me, I present to you the nominees (and winners) for the ‘Six Things That Are Weird About Me’ category. Listed in descending order is ‘What Is Weird About Me Number 6’:
I SEE DEAD PEOPLE
Well in actuality I see and hear dead people, which probably explains it even less and hence the following explanation. What I do in the wild is called ‘Graving’ which is an individual that possesses little social skills who likes to wander the boneyards and catalogs, be it by notation or photographically, the headstones of those filed away in these libraries of life. This information is then uploaded to a database that can be used by people who are tracing their genealogy and the like. In the olden days they used to call this ‘transcribing a cemetery’ where usually a person usually linked to a church or other institution would for posterity sake go around and write down the information that each and every grave stone listed. This information was usually given to the affiliated church or historical society for record to have on hand for the time that the stone was no longer readable. Today it is called ‘Get a Life’. However, this information still can be a diamond for those researching their past but unable to physically visit the last corporeal vestige of a life no longer living and before you sit there and mark my words with “what sappy dribble” I ask you this; why is it that we all go out to cemeteries to acknowledge a loved one who has died, to stand by a stone and grave to remember the person with reflection and flowers. We could easily just remember the person where we are this moment and save ourselves a whole lot of travel time, but there is something in standing beside a grave and speaking to the person as if they were just sitting next to you (and don’t lie, I saw you doing it yourself this past Thursday!). So you see there is great value to what I do and it all stems from something out of my deep dark past.
Creepy kid with a mission:
My father grew up in a small Pennsylvania mining town in a house that had on either end of the street a cemetery. When I was a kid we would go out to see our aunt and her family who lived (and still do) in the house that has been in my family since before my grandmother was born. My dad and I would always set out on a cemetery safari where he would regale me with tales of this one and that one or just tell stories of when he was my age playing in and around the graveyard. His accounts of historical fact were always more entertaining than the actual facts, which were usually boring and as dry as the bones resting mere feet below us. I always felt a connection when traveling through these quiet places, not that I could actually see or hear the dead, but that I could feel the history of them and could somehow, for a brief moment, glimpse into who they were by the dash between ‘Born’ and ‘Died’. This was especially true of those who swung in the branches of our family tree long before me. Was I like them in anyway? What were their thoughts and feelings and desires? Did they ever wonder who I would be as they gazed into their own children’s eyes and imagine into what eyes they in turn would gaze into? Were they good, bad, tall, short, sad, happy, artistic, loving ... did they acknowledge vanilla ice cream as the king of all the flavors?
It is amazing how much a stone can tell you about the one it watches over. Some are great monuments that say ‘I had a lot of money’, but say little more than that, while others are as plain as plain can be and yet speak volumes; The small marker of a child whose parent's anguish can still be felt long after they too have passed. The stone meant for two with only a single name listed or the single stone that cries to the world ‘that the better part of me is gone’. The flat stone that is so obviously homemade out of common cement and traced in by hand or the small craft marker left by a child on the regular stone that simply reads ‘Pop-Pop’.
This one lived a long life and this one was way too short; was one more full than the other? And then there are the graves that are forgotten, where once flowers marked the loss and now only a rusted urn lies on it’s side or the graves that say ‘I am unknown’, where only the curious once visited and then only for a short time.
My father is gone now these past fifteen years and I walk the graves alone and listen to the cicadas of summer as they sing of their short lives, I hear the wind of autumn as it sweeps away at the blazoned trees and of course I acknowledge the stones, left by us who remain behind in this life, to mark the passage of one who has journeyed ahead of us into the next.
And although I say I am alone, I know this not to be true. I remember back when I was a young father and my daughter was an infant. My father and I with baby in tow would set off on our continuing adventure to visit the ancestors. My father would hold her very close to him as we walked the quiet paths and I could hear him telling her the same tales that he told me. It was almost like he was introducing her to old friends and family who although long gone, were still very much a part of our lives. She couldn’t of course understand anything he was saying to her then, but he must have felt his time was short and wanted to pass on a piece of himself to her.
It might sound strange to you that this could be a cherished memory, but you would understand if you could have seen him, holding his granddaughter protectively close to him as if to say to the departed “She is my granddaughter, and I will live on as will we all, through her eyes”.
© 2007 1月5日 Episode 4 - A New HopeThe entire sum of existence is the magic of being needed by just one person.
~ Vi Putnam To the world you might be one person, but to one person you might be the world.
~ Anonymous I am incomplete without her. If I were to see the most amazing sight to be seen and she were not by my side, then it wasn’t really worth the seeing.
~ Mark Alexander Oliver
New Years Eve day found my wife and I with a day all to ourselves with no obligations until later in the evening when our friends J & J would be over for our annual low key but always good fun get together. One of our favorite places to tool around is New Hope PA which is an artisan community that boarders the Delaware River. Niche shops, quaint restaurants, charming B & B’s and art galleries are nicely laid out in this country setting. The tastes here run the spectrum from elegant to biker dude and dudets, with a smattering of New Age, Wicken and the just plain weird to fill out the cast.
The day was sunny but on the chilly side (even for me). I'm very comfortable with the colder temps while my wife, who is not, can find a cold breeze on the Sahara desert at high noon, but that never stops her from doing what she likes to do. When we go to New Hope I like the day to be heavily overcast, not because there is no shade – Scads ‘O shade to be had, but it’s the kind of area that seems to go well with the gloomy canopy above. Perhaps it was because of the colder day or that it was New Years Eve or both, that found the town busy but not as crowded as it usually can be found to be an a sunny Sunday. This always makes for a better visit anyway. As you can see from the pictures in the New Hope Album, Turkey vultures like to make the rooftops their own and the leaden skies give this a rather creepy look as these rather large birds amble their way across the rooftops looking down at you (perhaps dreaming of a magnificent meal). New Hope is also one of, if not actually the most haunted place in PA. A plethora of ghostly haunts to choose from; the haunted church, the haunted inn, the haunted restaurant, the haunted covered bridge, the haunted playhouse, the haunted ash tray etc... So you see, overcast skies and the haunted area go hand in hand and, if you are lucky enough to be there relaxing at one of the quaint restaurants enjoying a brew or other adult beverage when a Thunder storm moves in, then Oulalla. I did get my wish shortly after arriving there as the skies took on a nice brooding grey. With ‘FourBucks’ coffee in one hand and my wife’s hand in the other we were set for a pretty good day.
As I stated before, New Hope is an artisan community that likes to show off many of its artwork sculptures around the town. Most of the time it is freeform stuff that looks nice but can easily fall into the ‘What the hell is that!’ category. This time they had something new in the small river below the bridge that bisects the town. Two deer made of metal strapping, prepared to look as if they were crossing the river. I actually got it. Very Cool.
Usually my mission on going there is to look for a Greenman or Gargoyle sculpture to adopt and take home. I have always had an affinity for these medieval subjects and Ernie (our chimney top Gargoyle) always likes it when we bring home a new playmate for him. The last time we were there in October for our anniversary, we spotted a Greenman sculpture that we liked and decided to pick it up on our next visit. True to our word, we found him just where we left him and brought him back with us. His name is Norman.
After a couple of hours, we settled down to dine at a restaurant called Mothers that sits right along the main street. It was a place that we had never tried before and we were happy to find the atmosphere, service and food much to our liking. It was about 5:30 pm when were left the restaurant and found the town all lit up with Christmas lights; we realized that this was first time that we had ever been there during the holiday season to have witnessed this before. It was a really nice way to end our ‘all to ourselves’ day together. We actually could have spent all that time just roaming the supermarket and it would have been a great day, just so long as I am holding my wife’s hand.
© 2007
1月3日 ResolutionsMany people look forward to the new year for a new start on old habits.
~Author Unknown
A New Year's resolution is something that goes in one year and out the other.
~Author Unknown
Cheers to a new year and another chance for us to get it right.
~Oprah Winfrey
Once again we found ourselves passing the last hours of the old year with our best of friends J&J. Our days of making big plans for an all night New Years Eve celebration went out with the year 1986 just after the birth of our first kid, Daughter of Darkness. It’s not that we were too old at the time, hell we were a mere twenty eight years old, but going out with a new born (albeit in the hands of capable grandparents) was more than a new mother could stand. My son, Captain Adventure, followed a couple years later so that by the time we thought about getting out for the New Years festivities, we had found that we liked the convenience of staying home and leaving the streets free for the maniacs and the police.
For the better part of fifteen years now, my oldest friend J and his wife J, have joined us for the passing of the old year into the new. 2006 was a trying year for both of us and we found ourselves this year on deck not so much to ring in the New Year but to make sure that the old one left. My daughter was out with her boyfriend (God I love that boy) and my son had several friends over who sequestered themselves away into the war room where they each had a Play Station and TV monitor hooked up to the internet so that they could celebrate with friends around the word by blowing each other up. A room away found the old farticles waiting for the execution of the old year by playing cards. New tech versus old, but that’s the way I like it. Although I revel out loud about the day we become empty nesters, I know in my heart that these are the days to savor. When I was young and immortal, I had no fear that ‘these days’ would last forever. Now I find immortality waning and the thought of loss is always with me.
I have learned over the years that the easiest way to fall from resolutions made in the New Year is to tell no one else what they are. I have also found that if you have to make a list of your resolutions that you are also doomed to failure. If you fail at one, they all suffer. One list, one destiny. And so with that said, here is my resolution for the year of our Lord two thousand and seven:
Rematerialize.
In the last year I have allowed work and home improvement needs to fully occupy my twenty four hours a day. I have become a ghost at home and have lost touch with family and friends. So my resolution is to re-organize the importance of the things that need tending to. Unfortunately work is work and like the finite hours assigned to each day by God, there is a fixed amount of time assigned to our jobs that is for the greater majority of us inflexible, but it isn’t really the time but the focus that needs adjustment. I can still do the things that I am doing now; I just need to put them in proper order with the time I have each day. If I have learned anything from my Home Depot maneuvers its that the fixings here and there will always be around, the people in my life may not.
Now while I said I do not believe in a resolutions list, I have, like stocking stuffers on Christmas morning, several aside resolutions that seem to ride with me from year to year:
Lose weight (it's not so much what I eat between Chrstmas and New Years, but what I eat between New Years and Christmas).
Clean up my act (if you saw my desk you would understand this one).
Stop procrastinating (I’ll look into this one later)
If I fail at any of the above, get up, dust off and try again. No need to wait for Dick Clark to give the go ahead.
Good luck to all of you in this new year with whatever resolutions you may have made. If you are succesful, may your life and those around you be all the more blessed. If you fail and leave it at that, may your pains be as short lived as your resolutions.
© 2007 12月28日 'Tis The Season..... Part 5 - The Ghost Of Christmas Yet To Come'I am in the presence of the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come.' said Scrooge. The Spirit answered not, but pointed onward with its hand....
.....Spirit of the Future, I fear you more than any spectre I have met tonight!
.....Wouldn't it be better if I just went home to bed?'
~ Charles Dickens (A Christmas Carol)
COMING NEXT YEAR TO A BLOG NEAR YOU (or just re-read my ' 'Tis The Season ' series. I'm sure it will be exactly the same.
© 2006 'Tis The Season..... Part 4 - The Sound Of WindThe Christmas season has come to mean the period when the public plays Santa Claus to the merchants.
~John Andrew Holmes
Until one feels the spirit of Christmas, there is no Christmas. All
else is outward display--so much tinsel and decorations. For it isn't
the holly, it isn't the snow. It isn't the tree nor the firelight's glow.
It's the warmth that comes to the hearts of men when the
Christmas spirit returns again.
~Anonymous
Next to a circus there ain't nothing that packs up and tears out faster than the Christmas spirit.
~Kin Hubbard
There were only two things that I wanted for Christmas this year; they also happen to be the two things that I want every year. One of them I never get, the other is never denied me.
The one I will only ever dream about is to be able to sleep through the 25th. Doesn’t sound like much, but the problem for my family is that I would start my blessed snooze the day after Thanksgiving. And unlike the youngster who asks for the world to be waiting under the tree on Christmas morning, I was ok with knowing I wouldn’t get the full blown list; Christmas day would suite me just fine.
I could beg, cry, scream, do the puppy dog eyed look thing, but it is never to any avail; the proprieties must be observed. My wife in her usual tender and sensitive way tells me to ‘Suck it up and stop whining’. And so with ‘It’ sucked up and whining brought to a close (a promise to self of a nice healthy belt of scotch later and why not!) we, like the three wise men who two millennium before, follow that brightly lit star to the stables of our families bearing gifts. And yes; as it turns out, I have a good time after all. Getting with the family (both my wife’s and my own) is always a happy time; it is all the hubbub getting to this point in the journey that makes it seem so excruciating.
As I get older (and my wife gets younger) I also see that the painful days of H U G E gifts for my kids (that need to be transported in several trips or if the lord above has graced you, with a mini van) has been reduced down to late teenage level items appropriately transported in a couple of festive holiday bags. The torch has been passed and now my brother Version 2.0 and my brother in law Version 3.1, must trudge the booty back to their far off base camps.
As morning turns to afternoon and then to evening, the gifts are passed, the food and desserts consumed and the conversation of recent events and remembrances wrap up into what I come to realize is really the best gift that I could want; A time with family. For all the whining, bitching, agonizing, complaining and general malcontent that I weave about Christmas; when I sit at home in front of the lit tree in the quiet of the late evening (with promised scotch in hand), I re-discover that while there may have been no joy in the journey, the destination was as worth it all.
And then there is the gift I always get; December the 26th. Oh blessed day.
It is finally over. No more battling the roadways with frenzied shoppers whose kind of holiday cheer can be found in a terrorists handbook and most of all, no more twenty four hours a day on two thousand channels beamed into the core of my brain Christmas music. I mean come on, really, how many times and through how many different renditions can you listen to the same damned Christmas songs over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again.
No by God, it is over. The day after Christmas always seems to have a breeze to it that comes from out of nowhere to sweep clean the earth. It is the only sound that I can hear all day and it is as a symphony to my damaged ears. Oh yes, the merchants try to keep the momentum going with after Christmas sales and the New Years celebration one week later, but these are last gasps and they are hushed by the sound of wind.
12月13日 'Tis The Season..... Part 3 - The Ghost Of Christmas PresentsOnce again, we come to the Holiday Season, a deeply religious time that each of us observes, in his own way, by going to the mall of his choice. ~Unknown
Once again we find ourselves enmeshed in the Holiday Season, that very special time of year when we join with our loved ones in sharing centuries-old traditions such as trying to find a parking space at the mall. We traditionally do this in my family by driving around the parking lot until we see a shopper emerge from the mall, then we follow her, in very much the same spirit as the Three Wise Men, who 2,000 years ago followed a star, week after week, until it led them to a parking space. ~Dave Barry
Cindy Lou Who: Santa, What’s Christmas really about?
The Grinch: Vengeance. I mean… presents, I suppose.
~From ‘How The Grinch Stole Christmas’ 2000
Internet shopping; YOU GOTZ TO LOVE IT!
I think by this time I have made it plainly known that the Christmas holiday is not on my list of things to live for. My wife, at this time of year, calls me Mr. Humbug. But at least one of the many things that make this holiday so trying for me has become a ghost of Christmas past.
For those of you who are generation ‘what-ever’, let me tell you a tale of the way it was way back in the olden days or yore. First the kids would make their lists of wants using what was known back then as a pencil and paper. No computers with fancy spell checking and printing; No emails with ready URL’s to guide woebegone parents to exactly what was needed. The child had to spell it out using the handwriting skills that Miss Crabapple taught them back in a school room where the most high tech doodad in sight was the pencil sharpener (manual operation of course). And even if the handwriting was perfect, with well spaced letters and faultless rounding of those bulgy letters like ‘B’ and ‘R’, half the time our parents didn’t know what the hell we were jabbering about. How many poor children ended up with Yahtzee or worse, simply because a parent couldn’t figure out what the hell a ‘Commander Gizmo with Flashing Laser Eyes and Crushing Kung-Fu Grip’ was. Who can blame a beleaguered parent for taking the lost in translation gift route. Even if the kid could point to the item on the ‘six-channel-not-including-UHF-rabbit-antenna ’ TV, all mom or dad could hear was ‘I want a blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, Yahtzee”. But for those parents who were in the know, it was the trumpet call of ‘LET THE GAMES BEGIN’.
You would hop into the car and head off to 150 different stores in a vain attempt to track down the items on the list that everyone else and their mother had on theirs too. The spirit of Christmas was alive as you hunted down a parking space; creeping along like a tiger stealth fully stalks its evening meal. A shopper loaded with bags is seen leaving the gates of hell -err- the mall. You watch your prey as they make their direction known and if necessary you make a course adjustment to intercept. As you are setting up for the kill, you can see just above the tall grass of cars around you that several other hunters have spotted your prey and are looking to make it their own. Depending on the ensuing scenario, if you are victorious, you would be the one to shrug off the slings and arrows (otherwise known as the flying middle finger) as a badge of honor; else, you will be the one to toss the universal cheer of the season only to begin your hunt again. When finally you entered the hallowed halls of shopping, and a new hunt in a new jungle would begin.
Your skill at cursing would become as a finely honed sword and your tolerance for mankind would sink to new lows. If people were allowed to be publicly armed at this time of year, we would never have to worry about an over population problem in this country; everything would rebalance itself around this blessed time of year.
And so, that part of the Humbuggery that I felt for this holiday has been eradicated by the cyber super-highway. Kids type their wants and email the list, complete with ‘I’m-so-stupid-but-look-I-can’t-go-wrong’ URL’s attached. Point, Click, Order, Pay, Logoff and let the goodies come flowing to me. For me, Santa is all decked out in brown and comes in a truck of the same color.
12月8日 'Tis The Season..... Part 2 - Deck The HallsFor Christmas is tradition time-- Traditions that recall
The precious memories down the years, The sameness of them all. ~Helen Lowrie Marshall
Christmas is for children. But it is for grownups too. Even if it is a headache, a chore, and nightmare, it is a period of necessary defrosting of chill and hide-bound hearts.
~Lenora Mattingly Weber
"A merry Christmas, uncle! God save you!" cried a cheerful voice. "Bah!" said Scrooge. "Humbug!"
~Charles Dickens (A Christmas Carol)
This past Sunday found me on my yearly pilgrimage to my roof to string icicle lights, garland and the big Christmas wreath around the house. I usually wait until the last possible moment to do this to the great irritation of my daughter who just gets so into Christmas. I swear this kid can’t be mine. Fortunately we were blessed in my neck of the woods with unusually warm weather for over a week, which would allow those smart enough to take advantage and set up their outside décor. I, as usual, did not fall into this category of people. So with cold winds blowing I did the time honored expected fatherly job and hung the lights up with care and to my credit, didn't wait until the eleventh hour to do this temporary festooning of the manor.
Now while I don’t really enjoy the holiday, I do enjoy working outside. The air was cold but very doable. And since my son was at work and my wife and daughter are not ones for anything colder than the short burst of air when opening the refrigerator, I was assured peace and quiet. Except for Ernie (my chimney top gargoyle and general protector of the home from squirrels), I was alone.
My wife, more interested in my safety and well being than for the complete decorating package, said that I should only do the lights and forget the rest. After twenty three years of marriage, this women knows me all too well and in knowing, knows that I MUST do the whole job even though I can’t stand the Ho-Ho-Ho (my curse word for the season). Still, cold weather not withstanding, she poped out every so often to make sure I haven’t fallen off the roof and if this was found to be true, to offer up a hot cup of tea.
“So why do I continue to do this?” I ask Ernie (who at that moment is keeping his eye on a squirrel making its way in our general direction through the branch maze of a nearby tree).
“More than likely because you like the pretty lights” he replies, “Or maybe because you don’t hate Christmas as much as you profess to”.
“What do you know, you’re a stone gargoyle”.
“Yeah, but I’m sitting on a warm and cozy chimney top while you are hanging over the roof in the cold wind hanging fakery off the house”.
Can’t argue a solid point like that!
And so, the wind continued to blow but at least it was a sunny day. The crows flew about and squawked as I made one hundred and three trips up and down the ladder because of this thing or that that I left up here or down there, and the never ending adjustments and straightening of this and that as the sun made it’s way from morning to evening. When all was said and done, it took longer then I expected it to (but it always does). Never the less, I was happy with the results and with just being able to keep to myself and my thoughts.
“Looks nice” cracked Ernie with a S#!^ eating grin on his face.
“Thanks for reminding me old friend, I almost forgot” I replied with a emerging grin of my own.
Last January when I was in the pet store, they had on sale a red Christmas stocking cap for a cat that I just couldn’t resist getting for that special someone. From out of my back pocket I dug out the cap and stuck it on Ernie’s head.
“Looks nice” I said with a S#!^ eating grin on my face.
“I will get you for this you know” he said.
“Ho-Ho-Ho” I replied.
As I headed down the ladder I could hear the squirrels in the tree laughing their bushy tailed asses off.
Decorating the outside of your house for the Christmas holiday
Wake up early in the morning and procrastinate as long as you can before you realize there is no way around it but to get off your butt and do it: 0 dollars.
Budget ten minuets to dig out the lights and whatnot’s and actually spend over an hour because you don’t remember where you put them when you quickly took them down last year before the big thunderstorm; in May: 0 dollars and an empty promise not to ever do that again.
Test each and every string of lights for outages and finding everything in working order: 0 dollars and a false sense of peace.
Spending another hour after hanging the string of lights to find the culprit that is keeping the string (that I previously tested) from now lighting:
0 dollars; a tapestry of curse words; a good healthy belt of scotch whiskey.
After all is done, standing outside in the evening darkness, the house warmly aglow with lights, a mug of hot cider in my hand and my wife with her arms around my waist, her head resting upon my chest and seeing the light reflecting in her eyes: PRICELESS
12月7日 'Tis The Season..... Part 1 - The Ghost Of Christmas PastUnless we make Christmas an occasion to share our blessings, all the snow in Alaska won't make it "white".
~Bing Crosby
I hear that in many places something has happened to Christmas; that it is changing from a time of merriment and carefree gaiety to a holiday which is filled with tedium; that many people dread the day and the obligation to give Christmas presents is a nightmare to weary, bored souls; that the children of enlightened parents no longer believe in Santa Claus; that all in all, the effort to be happy and have pleasure makes many honest hearts grow dark with despair instead of beaming with good will and cheerfulness. ~Julia Peterkin, A Plantation Christmas, 1934
Let Christmas not become a thing Merely of merchant's trafficking, Of tinsel, bell and holly wreath In my last diatribe I mentioned that my favorite time of year is the fall; my favorite month is October; and my favorite holiday is Halloween. Well it is still the fall but we have finally entered my least favorite month; December. It houses my least favorite season; winter and above all others, its crown jewel is the most obnoxious, tiresome, stressful, hectic, I would rather be tax audited or anally probed by space aliens holiday on the calendar; Christmas. Now to be fair, let me back up a little and do some ‘splaining’. My statement about December stands, I really do hate it, but it’s not the character of the month its self’s fault. As I said before, I love all kinds of weather. I love it when the cool and crisp give way to the cold and freezing (as long as I am prepared for it). I love it when the wind goes from brisk to howling. And there is no better place to be on the planet when the snow starts to fly than on my sofa next to the big picture window, with a big cup of tea or hot adult style beverage in hand next to a roaring fire (and I swear that the next house we buy will actually have a fireplace so that I can stop burning a hole on the carpet in the middle of the floor; I think my wife would like that). There really is no ‘bad’ weather to me, its all different kinds of good weather; a true spice of life. The only time weather becomes bad is if I had planned on working around the outside of the house and God decides it is a good day to water the flowers. We all know who wins that argument. No, unfortunately December is guilty by its association with the tick that is buried into its backside. When I was a kid, my brothers and I looked forward to Christmas as any normal ‘give me, give me, give me kid would, but unlike most kids, I was also aware of the hardship it placed on my parents. We were just barely lower middle class; My Father was a Bus Driver who mostly worked the swing shift and my mother worked in a bakery and later was a school crossing guard. It was always a struggle just to stay on top of things but Christmases were always extra tough and I can remember a couple times where somehow they managed goodies under the tree for us even though they barley had two nickels to rub together. All this in a time before the major use of credit cards and the ease of purchasing outside of your means; another insidious gift of the season. Perception is a powerful thing, even in young children and can for right or wrong decide the paths we step out onto. One particular Christmas drives this home for me. It was a hard year for my parents and yet once again they managed presents for us three boys. If you were to ask my brother, Version 2.0, he will tell you it was the worst Christmas and yet, because I was more aware of how hard it was for mom and dad and still they provided presents, I saw it then and still to this day as one of the best Christmases we had. I’m not saying that my brother was/is selfish or that I was/am selfless, but it was the knowledge and ability to understand it that made the perception so different between the two of us. I will forever love them for what they did and forever hate that they felt they had to.
When my kids were small, I managed to temper my growing dislike for the holiday and found enjoyment in waiting for my kids to jump up and down with excitement into our bedroom to announce that ‘Santa’ made his scheduled drop and then watching them mercilessly rip to shreds the paper from the gifts my wife and I carefully wrapped into the wee hours of the morning. The look in their eyes was more than worth the hassle of the HO-HO-HO (My curse word for the season). As the kids grew older and Santa was no longer a entity to kiss up to, the holiday seemed to lose most of it’s luster. It simply became a shopping spree for things on a list. Sure the lights are nice and the getting together of family to celebrate is great, but there always seems to be something missing. It is like getting a whiff of a flower’s scent for an instant and then it’s gone. You know it’s there somewhere but you just can’t put your finger on it. One year I suggested to my wife’s family that instead of exchanging presents with each other, to put that money to better use and support a child through one of the many groups that help children in need. We have been doing this now for ten years and it helps me to know that the money that would have purchased a gift that in all likelihood would be by this time forgotten or discarded, went to a place and a person who needed better and more important things. I got this idea in a roundabout way many years ago by way of all things, a TV commercial. The scene took place in an orphanage or foster home with a young boy of about 8 or 10 years old writing a letter to Santa asking for a puppy. Two slightly older boys come into the room, snatch up the letter and then proceed to make fun of the boy for not only believing in the Claus man, but also even thinking that anyone gave a crap about kids like them. They toss the letter back at him and continue to laugh as they leave the room. The little boy bows his head down in sorrow. Well it turns out that the boy must have submitted the letter anyway because the next scene shows a women reading the letter and you can tell by the expression on her face that the puppy is practically in the mail. Sure enough the next scene (and for me, still a heart grabber after 30 years since seeing it) shows the little boy sitting in his room and you can see that he has already convinced himself that the older boys were probably right. And as any good TV bullies worth their salt, the two older boys are on hand to taunt him ”Where is Santa Clause?” “What no presents?”. Just then a voice calls out to the young boy that there is a package downstairs for him. Young boy looks at Bully boys. Bully boys look at each other with that ‘No Way’ look on their faces. Young boy races downstairs. Bully boys follow in hot pursuit. Young boy kneels by present. Bully boys are deliciously quiet. Young boy slowly removes the top off of present. Puppy happily pops out of basket. Puppy proceeds to happily drown young boy in puppy kisses. Young boy giggles with delight as puppy continues its loving assault. Bully boys stare at unbelievable sight with jaws dropped to the ground. Author of this blog starts to cry as he is typing this and must stop for a moment….. WE ARE CURRENTLY EXPERIECING TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES. PLEASE STAND BY……
There are many Christmas memories in my head , but to think that a TV commercial is one of the most profound is – well – pretty profound. It gave me the idea at an early age that there is more to Christmas than what I was being shown by current media and that the real spirit of Christmas is in the giving. Period. My one true regret is that I did not act upon this feeling sooner in my life. My greatest hope is that I can do better, that we can all do better in the time ahead.
11月21日 For Everything There Is A Season...
“For everything there is a season... A time to be born, and a time to die...".
~Ecclesiastes 3:1
"Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal"
~From a gravestone in Ireland
“Dying is a very dull, dreary affair and my advice to you is to have nothing whatever to do with it.” ~W. Somerset Maugham
November Sucks!
Not because the skies are leaden or that the wind swept rain beats against the lifeless trees. Not because the air has set its course towards the arduous journey of winter or that the days give way to the longer shadow of night. Truth be told, I actually like this weather and yes, I am weird. I cannot always have perfect days, it would drive me mad. Try eating a favorite meal all the time and see how quickly the sight of it sickens you. No, this kind of weather holds mystery and magic and its troubled brooding movements are like an opus.
So why does November bother me so much?
Unlike May where my family has over abundant celebrations of life, be it birthdays or wedding anniversaries, November has become overshadowed by remembrances of loss. It started 15 years ago with the death of my father. November 21st will always be a shadow across my heart. I had thought about telling my story of him here, but I’m finding it extremely hard at this moment. It’s not that I can’t find the words (I have plenty to say), but forming the physical text is cumbersome. I will continue to work on this and tell it when it is ready. Until then it is enough to know that I continue to miss him.
November also marks the loss of my brother’s mother-in-law. I didn’t know her for that long a time, only about 2 years in fact, but here was a woman who seemed to love life and family, especially family. I am not one who often feels comfortable among strangers, but I never felt anything other than warmth and welcome from her. It could have been very easy for one of a religion different than my own (my brother converted to Judaism shortly before he met his wife) to just wear a mask of politeness as I have seen before in others (and even with those of my own faith), but with her I felt no such façade. She was a woman who was ready and impatient to be a grandmother and who was barely able to put her arms around her granddaughter before she had to go.
Today I learned that the father of my oldest and best friend past away after a long illness and I find myself strangely mourning the loss of a man who for the better part of our shared time on this planet didn’t like me one bit. He and his wife (another November passing) were CATHOLICS. I capitalize this word because they were more than your normal Catholic. They attended Mass every Sunday (not just the important church holidays); They read the Bible (not just gleaning its content from the weekly eight minute and 53 second sermon); They sang the hymns out load (not just mouthing the words); They found importance to the structure of the Mass (it was not a well rehearsed hokey pokey type dance) and they gave to the church from their hearts (not just the spare change in their pockets). I on the other hand was a regular catholic who just also happened to be tainted by the hand of Satan. I didn’t sacrifice small animals; worship the dark lord in the shadows; cast spells or any other stuff associated with the Southern Kingdom. My great shame was that I loved horror movies and other unacceptable like fare. And this evil was spread to their son. OOOOOOOOOHhhhhhhhhhhhh, I was evil. Somewhere down the road (around my wedding I think) I sensed a change. Either they saw that I was not what they thought, or they just resigned to the fact that I was there and that was that. I hope for the former and I’m sure my friend could tell me for sure, but I guess I really don’t want to know in case it was the later. Regardless of any of that, it is a loss for my friend and therefore a loss for me.
Now October, THAT’S A MONTH. The air becomes crisp and the leaves come out from behind their masks of green and reveal who they really are. The days grow shorter but are more inspiring and in the evenings, you can still hear the final whispers of summer saying goodbye. During the protracted nights, you can feel the thin barrier between this realm and the next and can understand why the ancient Celts felt the way they did about this time of year. October is also my wife’s birth month and the anniversary of our wedding (no coincidence there pal). October is when my wife, as if called by the blood of her ancestors, enters into the only good cycle that a woman can go through; baking mode baby. And to top it all off, if hot pumpkin, apple, peach or cherry pie with vanilla ice cream or wait, Wait; chocolate chip or oatmeal cookies stolen from the cooling rack just after they come out of the oven isn’t good enough to call October DA BEST, remember that Halloween (For me the ONLY holiday) is right around the corner. However, when October departs and November dawns, there just doesn’t seem to be enough I can do to stay warm within.
I am a person who seems bound to the mysterious nature of life. I get off on Cemetery Safaris and ghost stories, bonfires and all the other strange, bizarre, eerie, creepy, and uncanny other-worldly things that bring the specter of death to us at a safe viewing distance (I told you from the get-go that I was weird). Perhaps November bothers me because it is a true reminder that there really is no ‘safe viewing distance’ and that one day, it will call out my name and that of the ones I love the most. November blows across the hearts of us all in one fashion or another. It is what we do while we are here in the Valley of Shadow that defines the dash between the dates of our birth and death.
11月16日 Election Day
“Defeat has its lessons as well as victory.” ~ Patrick Buchanan “The only thing we learn from new elections is we learned nothing from the old.” ~ American Proverb “How can you be expected to govern a country that has 246 kinds of cheese?” ~ Charles de Gaulle
I spent the day working on what is referred to in my castle as ‘The never ending job’. Basically this title applies to any project that I set out to do. Starting is quick & easy; finishing however is usually clocked by the change of seasons. At this particular time ‘the never ending job’ title belongs to the bathroom remodel. This 8 day project was launched on July 5th. Today is November 7th. Enough said for now about that. I was waiting for my wife to get home from work and together we would go down to the school where the voting for our district was being held. She just didn’t know this yet. “Hon, are you almost home?” “Just a couple blocks away, why?” “Election Day. We need to Vote” “Oh is that today!” She had been extra busy at work the last couple of months as they were shorthanded and hadn’t had a moment to even look at who is running. “Did you look at the ballot? Who is the Pro-life candidate?”
WE INTERUPT THIS STORY WITH AN IMPORTANT MESSAGE FROM THE EMERGENCY SOAP BOX SYSTEM…. My wife and I are both very much Pro-Life. Basically you can have a big red ‘S’ on your chest, leap tall buildings with a single bound and never fuss up that neat little curly queue thingy of hair that dangles on your forehead, but if you are not Pro-Life then you are a Super Dud. Unfortunately as this election would have it, there was no true Pro-Lifer on the ballot, which means that we have to chose the lesser evil. We still cast our vote, but I can tell you it doesn’t sit well at all. I am sorry if any of you who now read this are Pro-Death (hey, lets just call it what it really is. Calling it Pro-Choice simply means that your choice is the death of an innocent while giving it a more palatable title. Hitler did much the same thing when he chose to call his program of genocide against the European Jews ‘The Final Solution’. Sounds so neat and tidy don’t it). Now before those of you who subscribe to the party of the second part begin your well worn list of excuses why you believe what you believe; yes, I do accept as true that as with anything in life there are no absolutes and that there will be special circumstances when the taking of fetal life will need to be done. This is not the forum for this particular discussion and I will pursue it no further except to say that it involves more important dynamics than the stale argument of a women’s right to choose. Hey you want to choose; if you don’t want to become pregnant then don’t have sex! There’s a startling revelation for you. * THIS NOW ENDS THIS MESSAGE FROM THE EMERGENCY SOAP BOX SYSTEM. WE NOW RETURN YOU TO THE REGULARLY SCHEDULED STORY ALREADY IN PROGRESS....
…..”God, you are so sexy when you talk politics. I just want to rip your clothes off and let you…” “Hon, the sooner you get here, the sooner we get the voting done and move on to ‘politics and strange bedfellows’”. A few moments later my wife came around the corner (well may be ‘came around the corner’ is too soft a description) My wife careened around the corner like a starship captain engages warp drive around a star in the effort to fold space and turn back time (I could swear I saw the already fallen leaves fly back up into the branches and turn green again). I hopped into the U.S.S. Family Minivan and off we were to the voting booths. This year we got smart. Every time we go to vote at this location, they change the entrance and we root around the building like rats trying to navigate an 8th grade science fair maze. Being that it was dark and with the usual lack of signs to point the way, we sat for a couple of minutes and watched the parade of lost souls as they went around the building pulling at the locked doors and then peering inside its windows hoping to spy a clue to where the party was. It didn’t take long for us to see the happy people who came from around the backside of the building straight to their cars. Target acquired. We strolled together, hand in hand to the correct entrance, saving as many poor souls along the way that we possible could. At the sign in table I was greeted by four senior ladies. “Last name?” demands the obvious alpha senior of the pack. “Dudley” (a clever little alias) I say on queue as I wait for the response I know is coming. She gives a quick smirk to her ‘partner in time’ and says “Dudley Doright?” and gives out one of those quick little snickers at what she considers a very clever remark. Her cronies tittle back obediently. I pretend not to have heard this play on my name a million times before and laugh a little on queue. She hears my laugh and thinks about how clever she is. I laugh because I know that time and space is closing in on this little gem who reminds me of every condescending librarian type that I have ever had to deal with. I sign in and leave my wife to go through act two of the performance on her own (that which does not kill you only makes you stronger). I head over to the outside of the voting booth and hand my voting permit to a senior gentleman who is the opposite of the cauldron club I just left. While I wait for the voter ahead of me to cast their vote, we engage in a short conversation that shows him to be friendly with a good natured and jovial outlook on life. The familiar electronic ‘Ba-link’ signals the end of our conversation as the voter in the booth has finished and is ready to vacate. I step into the chamber of democracy. The curtain closes behind me and I prepare to cast my vote. I really don’t know why I bother. No matter who is running, No matter how great their cause may be, whoever I vote for may as well just get in their cars and head on home, stopping along the way at the local liquor store (bypassing the celebratory champagne section) and pick up a six pack of ‘I-am-a-loser-and-I’m-going-home-to-wallow-in-my-loserdom’ beer. I have been thinking about this curse of mine some time and came up with what I thought to be a cunning plan that could not fail. I have often tried to talk myself into voting for the person that I Don’t want to win thereby ensuring my real vote (who I didn’t vote for) would win. But each time I step into the booth to enact ‘My Reverse Half Nelson Strategic Voting Plan’ I end up in a losing conversation with myself that usually goes like this: OK, here we go! Wait a minute. What if the universe, who is always my formidable foe and who always takes delight in helping me stumble through life, is ready to do it to me again? Do What? You know, do the Nutshell Scam The what? The Nutshell Scam. You know how when you go to the store; doesn’t matter what you are going for, but for arguments sake lets just say a DVD Player, you are careful not to take the first box accessible on the shelf because a lot of people have handled that one, no matter how good the box looks. Never go to the back of the shelf because the evil store associates are too lazy to pull older stock forward thus ensuring the ‘Older & Outdated stuff will be your reward if you are foolish to fish here. So we dig into the middle of the pile for the most pristine box that we can find because that one obviously hasn’t been overly handled, squashed, juggled, tipped, dropped or otherwise disrespected. And so you get it home set it up, turn it on and viola! You immediately realize that the universe has got you again. I could have sifted through a hundred piles over many days and the result would always be the same: I end up with a lemon and that’s because the universe will rotate those shells around to ensure I always get the wrong one. The Nutshell Scam. Yeah but this time I have a system! Hello; The Universe. No No wait. Look if I [insert hopeless idea/plan here]. So you see, I’ve come up with a cunning plan that cannot fail. Sack of potatoes. Sack of What? What you call me? Not you idiot (I can’t believe we occupy the same skull). I said Sack of potatoes. Remember a few elections ago when the incumbent governor (who you wanted out in the worst way) was so low in the ratings that even their own re-election chairman stated that if the opposition put up a sack of potatoes to run against them that they would probably lose. Yeah, so what’s your point? My point is that you went in assured by no less than this Individuals political camp that they were destined to lose. And? And you voted for your candidate based on this assurance. So? Your candidate still lost! Ohhh yeah… Not only that, but everyone including the newly re-elected Governor was stunned and likened it to a miracle. But don’t you see (I proclaimed with a relish of victory to my voice), that only proves my point. If I had voted for the incumbent Governor, who I wanted to lose, then I would have assured that loss!
Dude, even if you voted for someone in an uncontested election, I assure you that that person would have lost. Oh sure they may have ‘won’ the election (if you can call a one horse race a win), but I guarantee that they probably would have dropped dead at the inauguration party. Face it man, the Universe loves to mess with you. I took a deep breath of defeat. I knew that what I just said to myself was true. The Universe does take great delight in screwing with me. Now I’m not crying out the great ‘woe is me’ lament. I have a lot in my life that the universe does not mess around with. I’m not wealthy by any means, quite the opposite actually, but I’m working at a job I like which puts food on the table and a roof over our heads. More importantly, I have a wife who is beautiful inside as well as out and two healthy and basically good natured kids who do not (at least the last time I checked) appear on any wanted posters. But still, I couldn’t help but feel more than a little sorry for myself at the moment. Then why do I even bother? Because men and women have been sheeding blood for over two hundred years to give you the ability to stand here and cast a vote. People who do not vote a freeloaders who should be deported to the Klingon home world. They are the kind who bitch and moan about everything they see as wrong with the government but wont go out a do the simplest thing that they can do to try and make a change for the better. And to argue that they would just be throwing away a vote because it wouldn’t change anything is just plain old Bull Shit! Doesn’t matter that you are the ‘Anti Voter’, what matters is that you vote. So Vote and let’s get the hell out of here. I’m hungry God dammit! Call it what you will; chickening out or listening to the voice of reason, I decided once again to not invoke the ‘cunning plan that cannot not fail’ and to vote for the person(s) of my choice. I do have to say that I was tempted to post my vote for the individual located to the far right of the voting panel; you know that area reserved for long shots, very long shots and the really really insane candidates. Well located off to the far right and almost beyond the scope of the lights behind the board to light it (coincidence?) was a candidate whose sole reason to run seemed to be the legalization of marijuana. Boy was I tempted. Not because I imbibe, but because it seemed perhaps a compromise between my ‘Cunning plan which cannot fail’ and my voice of reason. But alas, I do the right thing and cast my vote correctly thereby signing the political death warrant for my candidate(s) of choice. Hell, that’s what they deserve for being Super Dud anyway. ‘Ba-link’
I generally wait until the morning to see what the election results are. It is an attempt to at least go through the night thinking that I am a winner. I got this advice from my dad who did this with lottery tickets. Pretty sound advice. Sleeping soundly as a winner is better than tossing and turning as a loser. But this night I caught the results by accident. Big surprise. L O O O O O O O O O S S S S S S S S E E E E E E R R R R R R R R R R
I kissed my wife and turned out the lights. A half moment of silence and I ask “So who did you end up voting for?” “I don’t think it’s a good idea to talk politics in bed” She quickly replies. I wait another half a moment before I reply, “You voted for Marijuana Dude didn’t you” No reply. No denial. Just a knowing giggle. * See the last paragraph in my first blog entry entitled 'ProBlogue' 11月15日 ProBlogue "There is a bird who by his coat, and by the hoarseness of his note, might be supposed a crow."
~ William Cowper
"Where the vast cloudless sky was broken by one crow I sat upon a hill - all alone - Long ago; But I never felt so lonely and so out of God's way, as here, where I brush elbows with a thousand everyday."
~ Harry Kemp
"The bleak sky darkened and all around a great melancholy arose, the dark sky fell unto the earth and became a murder of crows."
~ Mark Alexander Oliver
Murder (noun): A Flock of crows; (idioms): Secrets or misdeeds will eventually be disclosed. Crow (Badb, Rocas): This animal is to treated with care. Along with the raven, the crow is a symbol of conflict and death, an ill-omen associated with such Goddess as Macha, Badb, and the Morrigan. The Irish word for crow is badb, which is also the name of a Celtic war Goddess. Although the crow was ill-omened, it was also considered to be skillful, cunning, single-minded, and a bringer of knowledge. It is of value when trickery is needed. It also teaches you to learn from the past, but not hold onto it. from "By Oak, Ash, & Thorn" by D.J. Conway
‘A Murder Of Crows’ is my attempt to exercise a part of me that has had 30 years to atrophy. The stonecutter who creates sculpture from a block of stone proclaims that they are merely releasing the form already contained within. I am attempting to do much the same here. I have been thinking a lot in the past year to end my self imposed exile, to chip away at the stone block in which I had encased my desire to write and see if anything remains or, if it has become indistinguishable from the lifeless cocoon around it. I probably would have continued to just think about getting started except that my brother decided quite independently of me to do much the same. His story is quite different than mine but our goal seems to be the same. His first step has convinced me that it was time to do the same for myself. While we are very different, our style in this area seems to run along the same lines although I tend to see things not a brightly lit. I hope you will take the time and visit his Blog. While there is only a year and a half difference between us, he is viewing life from the perspective of a relatively new father; while I now see my children begin to spread their wings to fly. His story can be found at: http://thedailyfloss.spaces.live.com We are also different in some ways on recollections of the past, but it is like when multiple people who view a single event give you different descriptions of what they saw. In this case it is not so much the actual details that matter, but what we learned from them. My brother paints our father in a different hue than I would, but in the end I believe we see the same portrait of a man that helped shape the people we are today. I will get to that at a later time. My intention is to tell you something about me and do it in an entertaining way (I do want you to come back). However I also tend to tell it the way I see it and while it is not my intention to insult, accuse or generally hurt anyone’s feelings, the chance of that happening is none the less there. I understand that many, including myself, have done things for reasons that cannot be seen by others, yet it made the doing necessary. It is all too easy to just judge by the Letter and to leave the Spirit out. You may be family, friends or an absolute stranger and if you find offense to what I have to say, I hope you will remember that it is not a personal attack. It is simply the way I see things. I’m still learning as I journey through the Valley of Shadow.
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