Random Thoughts- Do They Have Meaning?

Cecilia, you're breaking my heart You're shaking my confidence daily Oh, Cecilia, I'm down on my knees I'm begging you please to come home Come on home Jubilation, she loves me again, I fall on the floor and I'm laughing, Jubilation, she loves me again, I fall on the floor and I'm laughing Cecilia -- Simon & Garfunkel   Go to sleep, may your sweet dreams come true Just lay back in my arms for one more night I've this crazy old notion that calls me sometimes Saying this one's the love of our lives. Refrain: Cause I know a love that will never grow old And I know a love that will never grow old. When you wake up the world may have changed But trust in me, I'll never falter or fail Just the smile in your eyes, it can light up the night, And your laughter's like wind in my sails. (Refrain) Lean on me, let our hearts beat in time, Feel strength from the hands that have held you so long. Who cares where we go on this rutt

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A few days ago I sat on the phone with my grandfather and listened to him talk about my grandmother. Slowly the talk turned to how much he missed her and I felt very badly as I heard him begin to choke up. He misses her terribly and hopes that she recognized how much she meant to him. So grandma, if by some chance you are out there, somewhere and you can find some way to let grandpa know, please do it. We all miss you, but he lost the love of his life and that is something a little bit different. And thank you again for everything, your great grandchildren still talk about your 75th anniversary party and watching you dance with grandpa . For a brief moment they got a glimpse of my grandparents and understood how very active and full of life you were. Got to go now, it is time for me take off the grandson hat and go be dad again. "You were the love for certain of my life you were simply my beloved wife I don't know for certain how I'll live my life now alone w

It is only fitting that it was during Comic-Con that I received an urgent call for help from the Man of Steel . For several days he had been engaged in all out war with Captain Spam. It was one hell of a battle. Every time he tried to comment on one of my posts it was marked as spam and sent to the Phantom Zone. In days of yore he would of called upon Captain Spam and the Keyboard Crusader would have surely answered the call. But CS hasn't been seen in months. Some wonder if perhaps he was captured by the Nigerians in the 419 zone . It had been my understanding that one or more members of the Lantern Corps were investigating this. Having been forced into an early retirement I have been a bit more reluctant to pay attention to events that don't have a direct bearing upon myself or my family. And yes, I am bitter about that but that's a topic for a different day. And it is only fair to mention that the Man of Steel was one of the few who stood by my side during those

Been digging through the archives and decided to provide some links to some old material: A Story of Two Souls Searching to Merge Who I Am Versus Who I Want To Be A Note to my Coworker The Many Layers of Hell The tears that do not fall

It is a thousand years ago- we're juniors in college and feel like princes of the universe. We are all 21 now and no longer have to rely upon smart networking or the other tricks of the trade we used to rely upon to get into the bars. Not that any of it mattered, we were living the fraternity life so the social life was ridiculously busy. I am a Zebe and we are ridiculously proud of our claim that we party harder than any other house and still maintain the highest GPA on campus. Technically it is a C+ but when you consider that we were a 100 man plus house it is not bad. Saturday nights are filled with ridiculous amounts of craziness. Somewhere around 6 or show I hop into my Camaro and head out to pick up a couple of the fellas. We're going to grab dinner and drinks and then head to the house for the party. Tonight we have a local reggae band playing and that girl from my poli-sci class is supposed to be there. We hit Chilis or some other restaurant like it and grab some

A snapshot of songs I listened to tonight: Where Were You When the World Stopped Turning -Alan Jackson Rain In The Summertime - The Alarm Paul Revere - Beastie Boys Hallelujah - Leonard Cohen The Mighty Quinn - Manfred Mann Do You Wanna Hold Me - Bow Wow Wow Let's Dance - David Bowie Be Good Johnny - Men at Work Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic -The Police This Is Radio Clash - The Clash

If you haven't been by recently here is a list of recent posts: Can't Find My Way Home Project Mom Casting How To Really Hurt Someone Memory- A Game We All Can Play Flecks of Grey Let's Dance The Blogger I Want To Be Your Perception of Me Is Not My Reality The Long And Winding Road Part Two My Best Writing She Is My Girl The Long And Winding Road Hooked on the Memory of You Stay tuned as several new posts are coming soon.

"One slip, and down the hole we fall It seems to take no time at all A momentary lapse of reason That binds a life for life A small regret, you won't forget, There'll be no sleep in here tonight Was it love, or was it the idea of being in love? Or was it the hand of fate, that seemed to fit just like a glove?" One Slip- Pink Floyd Well woman it has been more than a long while since you and I had a proper conversation about anything. In the so called real world in which people measure time they would say that this is proof that the moment has passed and the window has closed. It is a fancy way of saying that they'd tell me to move on and forget about the dream. Some would use tough love and tell me that you have moved on and that my hanging around is nothing more than a fool's errand. They'd say that if I enjoy exercises in futility I can use a thimble to fill a swimming pool with water. Others might take a different approach and use a kinder,

If you spend any time roaming through the mommy blogosphere you are aware that the moms are going a little bit crazy about the big mommy blogger conference, BlogHer10 . At last count there were 1,987 posts offering advice and or instruction as to how to successfully navigate the coming conference. There are also approximate 9,987 posts written today by moms who are upset that they haven't lost the baby weight, are concerned that their husbands will be unable to handle taking care of the kids and or can't decide if bringing 27 pairs of shoes is excessive for a three day conference. Somewhere Imelda Marcos is clapping her hands in glee. And then there are the posts for Project Mom Casting . "Julie & Julia" was the first blog made into a motion picture. It will not be the last. Do you think you have what it takes to go from online to on-air? A major award-winning production company is now casting for an exciting new series featuring online moms. This gro

If you are really interested in hurting someone there is no better way to do so than to inflict some sort of mental pain. Physical pain can be overcome. There is always a way around it, but mental pain is a different sort of animal. Take whatever he loves most, break it and then give it back to him. It can be an educational experience. How does he respond to adversity. Does he accept the damaged goods? Does he try to repair the damage or does he discard it and go about his business. When he reaches that place in which he can no longer feel the warmth of the sun upon his back he faces a choice. Does he allow the darkness to invade his soul or does he hold out hope for a brighter day.

We played a game here a while back in which I asked you all to share a memory of something that we did together. I'd like to try it again. Go ahead and leave me a comment in which you relate something that we did together. It can be anything. I look forward to reading about our adventures.

I sit at the table staring at the screen while I wonder what words will work best. Mulling, debating and considering which combination of nouns, verbs and adjectives will most effectively transmit the message that I wish for you to take from this. Ear buds firmly implanted inside my ears I listen to iTunes send forth song after song while I pretend to be in an "old time newsroom" listening to the clickety-clack of a tired old typewriter. Every I hear the silent ding, stop typing and roll the paper down a notch so that I can resume typing on the next line. It won't do to type over the lines that I have already composed. It doesn't matter that the 'e' sometimes sticks or that the paper is already riddled with splashes of liquid paper. This is Pulitzer Prize winning material. Really, it is not bad. Not bad at all, somewhere between decent, nifty and elegant the words tell a story that we all can relate to. Three cups of coffee later I can't fight nature

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(originally published here ) The Blogger I Want To Be. I like the sound of that, kind of reminds me of the old standby essay that teachers made us write: What I did on my Summer Vacation. I like it because I love summer. It is my favorite time of years. I love going to the beach and camping trips. I love leaving town and doing a little globe trotting. Summer reminds me of hot dogs and barbecues, summer loves (ok, all you Danny Zuko and Sandy wannabees you can stop humming 'Summer Nights.') and just endless possibilities. Endless possibilities, that is what the beginning of every summer felt like to me. Who knew how many cool adventures lay ahead of me. I never did, but I always looked forward to them. The Blogger I Want To Be knows how to tell a good yarn. He can take those endless Summer nights and compose a tale that is too compelling to skim. He can come up with tremendous insight into the human psyche and what our roles are in the world. The Blogge

"I am here to remove your illusions of grandeur. You have false hopes and unrealistic expectations. My job is to bring you back to reality." Those were the words of one of my teachers in high school. It is not an exact quote but it is close enough- "illusions of grandeur" was one of his favorite terms. It was tenth grade and we were taking a course that was supposed to help prepare us for the future. I don't remember the exact name of it, but it involved taking the Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery (ASVAB). It was a test that supposedly could help identify what you were good at so that you could focus your attention upon whatever that was: truck driver, scientist, doctor, misfit etc. Twenty six years later I don't remember what my results were. Can't tell you whether they were promising or disappointing. I suppose that means that they were neither stellar nor disappointing. I have to admit that I am somewhat surprised that there is nothing m

Here is part 2 of this story . When we arrived at the high school we were all sent into the gym along with the other campers, counselors, staff and families. It was a tense situation and there were a lot of tears, cries and whispers. I remember trying to process what was happening. Back at camp we had all waited on the baseball field and watched as a series of buses pulled in and were loaded up with people. The youngest campers were only nine and they were among the first to be sent out. We made a point of waving and smiling at them so that they would feel better as we felt an obligation to be good role models. Bus after bus was filled and then there no more buses, yet we remained. We were told to stand up and we began the first of what would be many marches that summer. We headed up the road out of camp and were loaded into US Forestry trucks. As we left camp I looked out the back window of the truck and watched the flames roll down the hill and wondered what wo

Don't ask me to provide you with examples of my best writing because I can't do it. It is not unlike asking me to tell you which one of my children is my favorite. I love them equally, differently and fiercely. The contradiction in that last sentence is intentional. Or maybe it is not. Can you love equally, differently and fiercely. If you are a person who considers themselves to be logical, rational and methodical that last statement will drive you crazy. You can't quality, quantify or dignify it with the sort of black and white answer that you might like. There are no mathematical formulas to rely upon. Science cannot provide you a formula or rationale that you can hang your hat on. You'd be better off asking Bootsie, Cocoa, Smokey and Lizzie to explain it and even then I don't think that you'd be able follow the answer. Or would it be callous to say that a dog can't understand a pussy. That reminds me that I still need to write a song for someone. I

"She's a butterfly, pretty as the crimson sky Nothing's ever gonna bring her down And everywhere she goes Everybody knows she's so glad to be alive She's a butterfly Like the purest light in a darkened world So much hope inside such a lovely girl You should see her fly, it's almost magical It makes you wanna cry, she's so beautiful" She's A Butterfly - Martina McBride The dark haired beauty turns six tomorrow and like so many other parents I find myself asking the ridiculous question of how did it happen. How could she possibly be six. It hardly seems possible that my baby has already finished a year of school. But it is possible and it has happened. She who was born just days after her grandfather's triple bypass came into the world and immediately stole my heart. I was in the room when she was born and watched her emerge. Studied her features trying to tell if I would have another son or the first daughter. Watched as a nurse

( Originally posted here ) I often think about how many twists and turns life throws at us. By the time I was 14 or so I knew that I would be going spend the Summer of 1985 in Israel. In part my father had pushed a little for it but it was also something that I wanted to do because I saw so many of my friends older siblings do it, not to mention the impetus of being relatively independent from my parents. In order to be able to afford the trip I saved all of the money I received at my Bar-Mitzvah and then did what I could to add to it. My parents covered the rest helping to buy a backpack and providing me with $400 in cash to spend over the nine weeks I was to be gone. It was an incredibly exciting time for me. Just a short time before we were to leave for Israel a TWA flight was hijacked in Athens. The terrorists made a number of demands including that Israel release a large number of prisoners. I remember my father sitting me down to speak with me about terrorism

"Time, time standing still, I know it's you, I always will Want you to, be here with me I want you to stay right here with me I need you to love with me, Laugh with me, Forgive the past with me I know you can" Hooked on the Memory of You - Neil Diamond Truth is that I don't like that song very much, but I know that it means something to you and that is enough for me to include it. It is a baldfaced attempt to get your attention. A little more subtle than paying a pilot to fly banners over your home and easier to understand than smoke signals. Been thinking about you for obvious reasons, wondering if there is anyway that I can help you with things and frustrated knowing that I can't. I feel a bit like I am living inside a Salvador Dali painting. Things appear to be normal but if you look closely you can see that they aren't quite right. That doesn't have to mean that they are bad, but it doesn't necessarily mean that they are good. What it re

Here is a collection of recent posts: I Call Him Dad Jack's Experience In the Ladies Room Mosque at Ground Zero- Just Say No Tisha B'Av- 2010 Festival of Fathers- A Blog Experience #18 Some Days I Feel Broken Will They Know Me- I Am Going To Die A Six Year-old Speaks of Marriage That One Perfect Moment And a couple of old posts that might be worth looking at again: A Valentine's Day Fable The Almost Warrior

I call him dad and today marks the six year anniversary of his triple bypass. This past April marked six years since he suffered a major heart attack and spent six months in a hospital. It was an experience that had a major impact upon my life and in many ways is really the reason that this blog exists. It is true that I started writing it on a whim, but I quickly found that it was a safe place to write about my thoughts, ideas and fears. It was my cyberspace refuge and one that I quickly learned to love. Now I look back at posts that I wrote then and am taken back to those moments. In some cases the writing is just awful but that is ok. My abba More on dad My dad My father- The saga continues They say that hindsight is 20-20 and in many ways I suppose that it is true. When I look back at some of the posts I shake my head and wonder about how and I why I reacted the ways that I did. Some of that is unfair. I can't expect that the 35 year-old to respond as the 41 year-old

(I received an email from someone who said they were disappointed that my posts have become so serious. So here is one of a lighter nature. It is a gas.) I have a dysfunctional digestive system . I write about it frequently as I have done here , and here . That probably gives you more information than you wanted, but I am going to continue on and regal you with one of my many tales of the loo. For those who are interested in my motivation in writing about such things part of this stems from my embarrassment/anger/frustration regarding this little problem. I like to make fun of it because I feel better, and yes Shmata Queen I know that one day I should get a colonoscopy. Frankly I have the exit system down so making it an entrance bothers me greatly. This particular incident took place a number of years ago. I had been going through a spell in which my stomach had been doing quite well and had been more relaxed and adventurous in what I was willing to eat. On that fa

There is going to come a time in the not so distant future when my children ask me about 9-11. They'll look to me to answer the hard questions about how and why something like this could happen. It won't be the first time that we have talked about why people are willing to maim and murder others for no reason other than ideological differences. And when that day comes I want to look them in the eye and remind them that we judge people based upon what they do or what they do not do. They know that remaining silent in the face of wrongdoing can be just as bad as participating in it. That is not liberal, kumbaya, feel good clap-trap but common sense. If you stand around while kids tease other kids you are helping to create an environment in which that kind of abuse is acceptable. It doesn't mean that should or have to like everyone either. You don't have to be friends with everyone. And just because you have the right to do something doesn't mean that you should ei

A collection of thoughts and posts from the past. Will try to produce something more coherent later: And We Sat And Wept Tisha B'Av- 2008 Eicha- An Aching Heart Mumbles The Anguish of Disengagement

2010 is the year of the daddy blogger and as such it is time again for the Festival of Fathers- A Blog Experience. You can call this the better late than never edition. Almighty Dad: Impulse Toy Purchases: The Outrageous Cost of Tiny Toys And Triplets Make Six: Mind Over Matter Clark Kent's Lunchbox: On Sawyer The Good Men Project: Screwing Up Carrying a Cat By The Tail: Spuds... Back In the Day! DaddyFiles: Goodbye Princess. And Thank You. Man Of The House: A Man’s Sanctuary - Man Cave s SAHDPDX: Balance BellaDaddy Blog: An Open Birthday Letter Stay at Home Dad in Lansing: Dad Blog Review: People in the Sun Dad Who Writes: Business as usual. Sigh. DadWagon: Nostalgia Suburban Daddy: How To Get Three Kids To Sit Down For 5 Minutes People In The Sun: This is What It's Like to Be a Stay At Home Dad Busy Dad Blog: Ignorance is Tastier Luke, I Am your Father: Square Up! DC Urban Dad: The beauty of being a dad Undad: Being Cole Gilbert

Some days I feel like I am broken. I am a giant Lego set that some child put together with a lot of love but not as much skill as one might like. The pieces don't always match or work quite like we want them to and so consequently I feel like I am broken. It is not easy to write those words. I am not sure if it is because my ego doesn't like it or if I am worried that I might believe it to be true. It just might be that some times I fear to admit that I am afraid of failing. Or maybe it is that I am most afraid of failing those I care most about. Maybe it is that I worry that somehow I'll stumble and fall face first into some deep, dank and dark hole. One slip and I'll tumble over the side headfirst sliding down a hill at breakneck speed, ass-over-elbow fighting to stop myself but not quite able to ever grab on to something that can hold me.  And the crazy thing is that I when I imagine this, when the picture forms within my mind I am not really afraid of dying. Tha

( This piece ran 5 years ago . I am taking a look back and asking myself if I still feel the same or have things changed. ) Among thinking people there is a fundamental question that is asked about our place in the world. Who are we? What are we doing here? What does it all mean? How can I be a parent? Will my children ever really know me as my friends do or are they destined to see me as nothing but their parent. Ok, that is more than one question but it hits on a central theme of who am I and why am I here. I don't spend much time wondering why I am here. I am. I live and I breathe and while I walk the earth I might as well enjoy myself. For me one of the tougher questions is tied into my children. I sometimes wonder how they will see me. By the time that they are old enough to really start asking these questions on a deeper level I will most likely be in my fifties. What kind of man will they see? I won't look like I do now. In my mind's eye I see tha

Technically the dark haired beauty isn't quite six, but since we have less than a week I am rounding up. I look at my girl and I see less and less of the baby and more of a little person. Truth is that the only thing she does now that reminds me of the infant I used to hold is sleep. When that girl closes her eyes you can almost see her as she used to be. She had a full head of hair and she held her arms above her head in the same manner as she does now. But really she is all little girl now, my baby has grown. She surprises me on a regular basis with comments and criticisms of this and that. She notices things that surprise me and regales me with all sorts of stories about school, friends, family and life. But sometimes she comes up with things that make me think WTF! Obviously I don't say that out loud in front of her and more often than not I try to keep a poker face. It is a great skill to have as a parent. That poker face can save you a lot of trouble. Really inscrut