They say that age is a state of mind, whomever they is anyway. Those same nameless, faceless people also say that you are only as old as you feel. I suppose that it is a good thing as I feel very young and know that I am far younger than The Shmata Queen.
Anyhoo, I recently took part in a group in which we discussed technology and how we use it within our daily lives. As part of the discussion the moderator took time to quiz us all on what sorts of gadgets we used on a regular basis. The collection of devices was fairly uniform. We all had computers and smartphones. All of us used them on a regular basis and agreed that they had become a big part of our lives.
It was a normal conversation that didn't contain anything particularly noteworthy until the college student said that she also had really old technology- a first generation iPod. That got my attention, in large part because of the manner in which she said it.
In her eyes it really was old- so old that it made her part of the old timer's club. I sat there for a moment absorbing the impact of her comment. I have a first generation iPod as well as the most current iPod Touch. But I hadn't ever realized that I looked at the iPod as new technology.
It hadn't ever occurred to me that the generation gap would be pronounced in this manner. We weren't talking about rotary phones, typewriters or beepers. We were talking about something that isn't very old as if it was a phonograph. We were talking as if it was an old turntable the played 33s, 45s and 78s.
I am not old enough to be spoken to like that. Call me sir and I still look for my father because you can't be talking to me. But perception is a funny thing. Wasn't that long ago that someone told me that I couldn't possibly be in my forties- they figured me for 35. I smiled and then laughed because I remember when 35 was old.
And then I remember again how quickly life experiences change your perspective and point of view. It is almost a decade since 9/11. The girl who talked about the ancient iPod said that she was 20 or 21. Subtract a decade and you have a girl who was in grade school when the towers fell. She doesn't remember how easy business travel used to be because she wasn't old enough to have ever done it.
She doesn't remember the fall of The Berlin Wall or the first Gulf War. Those things are history to her and I suppose to us too. But my generation and those older lived through them- we see them differently than just something we read about in our history classses.
And that my friend is why I left that place feeling a tad older than when I went in.
A Quick Round Up of Posts
- Grandpa's Dead- But I Still Talk To Him
- That Crazy Feeling
- Shopping Carts
- When Will I Hold You Again
- What I See- Five Years Later
- A Collection of Recent Posts And Then Some
- A Mother In The Men's Room
- "Free To Be... You And Me"
- Gratitude
Penis Talk Revisited
You Don't Smell Like Daddy
Timing
Grandpa's Dead- But I Still Talk To Him
Grandpa's dead but I still talk to him is probably a poor choice for a headline but an accurate one. Four years gone but never far from my mind I sometimes speak to him about the things that trouble me. I close my eyes and look inward and tell him about whatever it is that is bothering me. And though there is nothing but silence in response I sometimes find the answer anyway.
Fragments of conversations float through the mist and amongst the flotsam and jetsam I pick out little pieces of driftwood upon which are written some of his favorite expressions. I hear his voice counseling me not to allow my temper to get the best of me and I smile.
It is something that I speak about with my children. We talk about how anger can be a tool and that if you channel that energy properly it can be very useful. And we talk about how tools can be used for good or to damage and destroy.
The children have heard me tell them more than once how important it is to learn how to deal with anger appropriately. But I have also been careful to let them know that we are only human so there are times where we are going to fail and that it is ok. It is a bit of a tightrope that I am trying to teach them to walk.
I don't want them to feel like losing their temper is the end of the world but I don't want them to forget that there is a price to pay for all of our actions. I tell them that their daddy has paid that price more than once and my job is to try and teach them not to make the same mistakes I have made.
The discussions are good and I think that they are learning which makes me happy. But that doesn't help me with this situation. There is no mitigating factor or shelter from the storm that brews within. It is rare that I feel this fire. Very few have the keys to the places in my head and heart. Very few have the ability to reach in squeeze that which shouldn't be touched in this manner.
But it happened today and hours later I am still burning. In part it is my own fault. When it happened I refused to acknowledge it. They wanted a reaction and I was determined not to give it to them. In this instance that was a mistake. It didn't make the pain go away nor did the passage of time make me forget what had happened.
It is a funny thing but not in a humorous sense. My determination not to give a reaction was also supposed to prevent a fight. Due to circumstances I didn't think that we could have a discussion that didn't turn into something...else.
So in effect I set myself up and am partially responsible for the bonfire that burns in my belly. Yet another example of good intentions gone bad. Moments like this make me hate being a responsible adult. It would feel good to run amok and scream, but it wouldn't fix anything.
And in the end I don't want a temporary bandage for this wound. I want it stitched up so that it heals properly. Don't care if there is a scar as I already have more than a few of those.
So I talk to grandpa and I tell him why I am angry. I fill him in on everything and ask if at all possible for him to help me in some way or another. I don't really believe that he is able to reach from beyond the veil. Don't really expect anything, but figure that there is nothing to lose. No one but me and the few people that read this will ever know and I don't really care if you approve or disapprove.
All I know is that the fire burns as brightly as it ever has.
Fragments of conversations float through the mist and amongst the flotsam and jetsam I pick out little pieces of driftwood upon which are written some of his favorite expressions. I hear his voice counseling me not to allow my temper to get the best of me and I smile.
It is something that I speak about with my children. We talk about how anger can be a tool and that if you channel that energy properly it can be very useful. And we talk about how tools can be used for good or to damage and destroy.
The children have heard me tell them more than once how important it is to learn how to deal with anger appropriately. But I have also been careful to let them know that we are only human so there are times where we are going to fail and that it is ok. It is a bit of a tightrope that I am trying to teach them to walk.
I don't want them to feel like losing their temper is the end of the world but I don't want them to forget that there is a price to pay for all of our actions. I tell them that their daddy has paid that price more than once and my job is to try and teach them not to make the same mistakes I have made.
The discussions are good and I think that they are learning which makes me happy. But that doesn't help me with this situation. There is no mitigating factor or shelter from the storm that brews within. It is rare that I feel this fire. Very few have the keys to the places in my head and heart. Very few have the ability to reach in squeeze that which shouldn't be touched in this manner.
But it happened today and hours later I am still burning. In part it is my own fault. When it happened I refused to acknowledge it. They wanted a reaction and I was determined not to give it to them. In this instance that was a mistake. It didn't make the pain go away nor did the passage of time make me forget what had happened.
It is a funny thing but not in a humorous sense. My determination not to give a reaction was also supposed to prevent a fight. Due to circumstances I didn't think that we could have a discussion that didn't turn into something...else.
So in effect I set myself up and am partially responsible for the bonfire that burns in my belly. Yet another example of good intentions gone bad. Moments like this make me hate being a responsible adult. It would feel good to run amok and scream, but it wouldn't fix anything.
And in the end I don't want a temporary bandage for this wound. I want it stitched up so that it heals properly. Don't care if there is a scar as I already have more than a few of those.
So I talk to grandpa and I tell him why I am angry. I fill him in on everything and ask if at all possible for him to help me in some way or another. I don't really believe that he is able to reach from beyond the veil. Don't really expect anything, but figure that there is nothing to lose. No one but me and the few people that read this will ever know and I don't really care if you approve or disapprove.
All I know is that the fire burns as brightly as it ever has.
That Crazy Feeling
I have that crazy feeling again. The whispers in the dark and the sense of something waiting for me in the dark is back. Like an old friend I welcome doubt with a hug and a smile. Call it a front, a clever facade constructed by a man who wishes to pretend that things are other than they are. The great contradiction of my life lies among the leaves I step upon. I hear them crunching beneath me and feel branches scrape against my body. I have walked through this forest so many times that I can't help but to be surprised by the presence of things that I have never seen before. I stop and stand in place, ears straining to pick up on the sounds around me. The forest is a place that guards its secrets well. Treasures and traps are hidden inside. Step carefully or risk waking the demons. Walk with purpose and strength so that those who already know of you recognize that you are not be trifled with. Spinning slowly I try to determine if lack of awareness is to blame. Perhaps these things were always here and I never noticed. It is possible as is the possibility that these things have always been here. The forest is constantly growing and changing. Evolution is part of its existence. I am forever amazed by this and touched by how light can impact my view of it. In daylight it is always warm and inviting, but night time is different. At night the warmth changes and places that never see that sunlight take control. Are the beings that roam nearby friendly or malevolent. Do they notice my presence? Can they feel the flame that burns inside or is it too slight and insignificant for them. I am here because I have questions and doubts that must be addressed. I cannot ignore them any longer. Awareness is a double edged sword. I cannot walk naked through the garden anymore. I am aware of all and the consequences that come with it. But awareness means that I can revel in life and experience the sort of joy that makes a man weep with joy. So here I stand, in the center of the forest. When the rage and frustration come I allow them to wash over me. I bathe in them and drink deeply from the cups they offer. It provides me with protection and with strength but only at great cost. When it comes I do not sleep. For days I engage in battles I dare not lose. No one can help me, no succor, no aid to be offered. No quarter is asked for and none is given. Eventually exhaustion sets in and I am forced to lay down my arms. For a while I am too tired to sleep and then I do. Beloved rest takes me in its arms and as I close my eyes the blackness takes me. I dream of things, of people and places. Blissfully unaware I slumber. Seconds turn to minutes and minutes to hours. The days pass and I wake up refreshed and ready to resume my quest. I am centered and focused again. The search for the answers has resumed. I know nothing and I know everything. My heart and soul are scarred but those are signs of life experience. I bear those symbols gladly because the life I wish to live demands nothing less. It is better to reach fore that which lies just outside of my grasp than to settle for the fruit that has already fallen. The end
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
Shopping Carts
At first it was nothing more than a simple disagreement over a parking space. Two drivers spotted the hole and simultaneously made a mad dash for it. They drove with reckless abandon and a complete disregard for the safety of pedestrians who just happened to be walking from their vehicles to the store entrance.
I know this because I was there and I saw how it all began. I wasn’t one of the drivers that day, just a father who needed to pick up a few items for his family. Just a man who made a point of gathering a few orphaned shopping carts so that they could be escorted back to their stall.
A different man, a better man than I would have done this without regard for self promotion. He would have engaged in random acts of kindness for the sole purpose of making the world a better place and I applaud him for it.
But I am not that man. I didn’t take the carts for the purpose of reuniting them with their families. Their cries of loneliness and incessant bleating didn’t touch my heart. They were an inconvenience that I was unwilling to accept. What can I say, I am intolerant of lost shopping carts and unforgiving of the people who abandon them.
These carts may be made of metal and cheap metal at that, but they deserve more consideration than they are given. They never take a day off from work. They don't call in sick or complain about management. When you need them they are there for you, regardless of whether they have one bad wheel or several.
They don't complain about kids who smash into them at high speed or the elderly who remove them from their lot as short term replacements for their walkers. Nor will you ever hear them speak badly of the giants who leave their shopping lists lying in the basket.
And that reminds me to mention that I am grateful for that very thing. I never make a shopping list in advance. That would be far too easy and make too much sense. It is much more fun just wander the aisles and grab whatever strikes my fancy.
Or alternatively I can use the lists that they leave behind. Adds a little excitement and mystery to my day. I hate cats and would never own one, but if the list says buy kitty litter than I do it. Sometimes it is a bottle of Formula 409 and a box of baking soda.
But it is never more fun than when I find a shopping list for a party. I once came home and unloaded 12 pounds of steak, 38 pounds of potatoes and sixteen cases of beer. Oh and let's not forget a vat of whiskey. Wow, that made for some really good times.
I know this because I was there and I saw how it all began. I wasn’t one of the drivers that day, just a father who needed to pick up a few items for his family. Just a man who made a point of gathering a few orphaned shopping carts so that they could be escorted back to their stall.
A different man, a better man than I would have done this without regard for self promotion. He would have engaged in random acts of kindness for the sole purpose of making the world a better place and I applaud him for it.
But I am not that man. I didn’t take the carts for the purpose of reuniting them with their families. Their cries of loneliness and incessant bleating didn’t touch my heart. They were an inconvenience that I was unwilling to accept. What can I say, I am intolerant of lost shopping carts and unforgiving of the people who abandon them.
These carts may be made of metal and cheap metal at that, but they deserve more consideration than they are given. They never take a day off from work. They don't call in sick or complain about management. When you need them they are there for you, regardless of whether they have one bad wheel or several.
They don't complain about kids who smash into them at high speed or the elderly who remove them from their lot as short term replacements for their walkers. Nor will you ever hear them speak badly of the giants who leave their shopping lists lying in the basket.
And that reminds me to mention that I am grateful for that very thing. I never make a shopping list in advance. That would be far too easy and make too much sense. It is much more fun just wander the aisles and grab whatever strikes my fancy.
Or alternatively I can use the lists that they leave behind. Adds a little excitement and mystery to my day. I hate cats and would never own one, but if the list says buy kitty litter than I do it. Sometimes it is a bottle of Formula 409 and a box of baking soda.
But it is never more fun than when I find a shopping list for a party. I once came home and unloaded 12 pounds of steak, 38 pounds of potatoes and sixteen cases of beer. Oh and let's not forget a vat of whiskey. Wow, that made for some really good times.
When Will I Hold You Again
A sequel of sorts to All We had Were Words.
"We started a story, Whose end must now wait
And, tell me
When will our eyes meet
When can I touch you
When will this strong yearning end
And when
Will I hold you again
I feel the change comin'
--I feel the wind blow
I feel brave and daring!
I feel my blood flow
With you
I can bring out
All the love, that I have
--With you there's a heaven
So earth ain't so bad"
Weekend in New England- Barry Manilow
Johnny shifted uncomfortably in his seat, this Barry Manilow crap messed with his masculinity. He understood why June liked it, but dammit, did he have to be a part of it. With a shrug and a sigh he relaxed and accepted that it was just part of playing for the same team. It might not be ideal, but he appreciated the story telling aspect of the song.
More importantly he appreciated June and that was what drove him. Or maybe what he really meant to say was that during their time apart he had come to realize just how much she meant to him. The funny thing about it all was that there was never a time where he didn't appreciate her, but there had been moments where he had underestimated her importance to him.
It wasn't every day that you found someone like June. She made him feel wonderful. He hadn't realized how he had let expectations and life experience shackle him to an existence that was good but something less than he could have. Something about June made him feel like there was nothing out of his reach, that anything was possible.
Really you could say that she made him feel giddy and alive. Yes, that was the term...alive. He had never taken such immense pleasure from a simple kiss or felt so good holding hands. Every time she looked at him he felt like he had been hit by a bolt of lightning.
He knew then, now and later that they could have one of the great love stories. They were the couple that others would hate. Best friends who could spend untold hours together and never be bored. Lovers who set the other on fire not just physically, but mentally too.
When he thought about how hard it had been to be apart it really didn't surprise him to say that he had never been more lost or more upset. It was funny to recognize how someone you never knew existed could walk into your life and make it feel like they had always been there.
"And I’ve been keeping all the letters that I wrote to you
Each one a line or two
“I’m fine baby, how are you?”
Well I would send them but I know that it’s just not enough
My words were cold and flat
And you deserve more than that
Another aeroplane
Another sunny place
I’m lucky, I know
But I wanna go home
Mmmm, I’ve got to go home
Let me go home
I’m just too far from where you are
I wanna come home
And I feel just like I’m living someone else’s life
It’s like I just stepped outside
When everything was going right
And I know just why you could not
Come along with me
'Cause this was not your dream
But you always believed in me"
Home- Michael Buble
Sometimes during the separation he would imagine that he was a soldier at war. Sometimes he was a grunt fighting the Japanese on some island in the Pacific. Sometimes he would pretend that he was living out some Victorian novel that Jane Austen might have written.
Whatever the case was it meant that for the time being he was required to be elsewhere, far from home, separated from June. It was a silly fantasy, but it helped the time pass.
Back in the real world he was working hard on his career and making real progress. Long hours in the gym were beginning to show real results, more than one person had commented on how his body was changing. It was hard not to be optimistic.It was hard not to smile and to feel like the time apart was going to have been something that provided benefits to them both.
Good times were coming, more happy moments and the resumption of the partnership, or so he hoped. Time would tell, but with so many other good things happening it was hard not to believe that it wouldn't follow.
"We started a story, Whose end must now wait
And, tell me
When will our eyes meet
When can I touch you
When will this strong yearning end
And when
Will I hold you again
I feel the change comin'
--I feel the wind blow
I feel brave and daring!
I feel my blood flow
With you
I can bring out
All the love, that I have
--With you there's a heaven
So earth ain't so bad"
Weekend in New England- Barry Manilow
Johnny shifted uncomfortably in his seat, this Barry Manilow crap messed with his masculinity. He understood why June liked it, but dammit, did he have to be a part of it. With a shrug and a sigh he relaxed and accepted that it was just part of playing for the same team. It might not be ideal, but he appreciated the story telling aspect of the song.
More importantly he appreciated June and that was what drove him. Or maybe what he really meant to say was that during their time apart he had come to realize just how much she meant to him. The funny thing about it all was that there was never a time where he didn't appreciate her, but there had been moments where he had underestimated her importance to him.
It wasn't every day that you found someone like June. She made him feel wonderful. He hadn't realized how he had let expectations and life experience shackle him to an existence that was good but something less than he could have. Something about June made him feel like there was nothing out of his reach, that anything was possible.
Really you could say that she made him feel giddy and alive. Yes, that was the term...alive. He had never taken such immense pleasure from a simple kiss or felt so good holding hands. Every time she looked at him he felt like he had been hit by a bolt of lightning.
He knew then, now and later that they could have one of the great love stories. They were the couple that others would hate. Best friends who could spend untold hours together and never be bored. Lovers who set the other on fire not just physically, but mentally too.
When he thought about how hard it had been to be apart it really didn't surprise him to say that he had never been more lost or more upset. It was funny to recognize how someone you never knew existed could walk into your life and make it feel like they had always been there.
"And I’ve been keeping all the letters that I wrote to you
Each one a line or two
“I’m fine baby, how are you?”
Well I would send them but I know that it’s just not enough
My words were cold and flat
And you deserve more than that
Another aeroplane
Another sunny place
I’m lucky, I know
But I wanna go home
Mmmm, I’ve got to go home
Let me go home
I’m just too far from where you are
I wanna come home
And I feel just like I’m living someone else’s life
It’s like I just stepped outside
When everything was going right
And I know just why you could not
Come along with me
'Cause this was not your dream
But you always believed in me"
Home- Michael Buble
Sometimes during the separation he would imagine that he was a soldier at war. Sometimes he was a grunt fighting the Japanese on some island in the Pacific. Sometimes he would pretend that he was living out some Victorian novel that Jane Austen might have written.
Whatever the case was it meant that for the time being he was required to be elsewhere, far from home, separated from June. It was a silly fantasy, but it helped the time pass.
Back in the real world he was working hard on his career and making real progress. Long hours in the gym were beginning to show real results, more than one person had commented on how his body was changing. It was hard not to be optimistic.It was hard not to smile and to feel like the time apart was going to have been something that provided benefits to them both.
Good times were coming, more happy moments and the resumption of the partnership, or so he hoped. Time would tell, but with so many other good things happening it was hard not to believe that it wouldn't follow.
What I See- Five Years Later
If you are interested in reading part one you should go read it now. Go on, I'll wait. Five years later and I am still running the race, except I ran so far and so hard that instead of being ahead I am somehow behind. Should I be frustrated that I am still working on some of the same projects. Should I give in to the frustration and throw my hands up in the air.
Or should I follow the advice that I give my children. Should I remember that sometimes you have to take big risks for the great rewards. Should I accept that sometimes heroes fail, friends let you down and your plans are for naught. Or maybe should I take the other perspective and remember that I am on a journey and that it hasn't ended. Should I look up from the computer with a huge smile because I know that hard work, practice and a good attitude will get me where I am going.
Because now when I look at my world I see things through a different lens than I did. I see children who aren't babies or toddlers anymore. They're school kids now. They read books, learn about life, people and he world around them. They spend hours outside of the house and are exposed to millions of different things and they don't always learn via the filters or prisms that I would like them to use.
They know about death and divorce and have witnessed our fallen soldiers come home. They ask questions of me, hard questions that I cannot answer. They pepper me with them one after the other and it is all I can do to try and keep up.
But they know much more. They know about the joy of life and how much fun it is to laugh and love. They know the sweetness of a puppy licking their face and the beauty of nature. They have seen good and know what it means.
I see these things and when my heart is heavy they lift my spirit. When I find myself dancing in the fire I see them smiling at me and I gain strength.
What I see five years later is a boy who became a man who is still a boy at heart. Five years later there are more stories, more scars and more joy. I suppose that you can say that some of this journey can be attributed to experiences that started 7.5 years ago.
Five years ago I was just beginning to see the possibilities. Five years ago fear and uncertainty held me back from taking a chance. And now five years later I still see the possibilities, but there are clouds and mist around them. So, I face decisions, hard decisions about the future.
But now, five years later I see that time and life experienced has hardened me. I celebrate the rough edges and sharp points because they are necessary. Part of a practical tool kit that will help ensure that when I step into the void I won't fall into a bottomless pit.
What I see five years later is a contradiction of joy and pain, both bitter and sweet. There are more tears to be shed, but not all will be painful. There will be much joy and celebration...one day. When that day is I cannot say, but five years later I see hints of the fruition of my labor.
And so now I sign off wondering what the next five years will provide me with.
Or should I follow the advice that I give my children. Should I remember that sometimes you have to take big risks for the great rewards. Should I accept that sometimes heroes fail, friends let you down and your plans are for naught. Or maybe should I take the other perspective and remember that I am on a journey and that it hasn't ended. Should I look up from the computer with a huge smile because I know that hard work, practice and a good attitude will get me where I am going.
Because now when I look at my world I see things through a different lens than I did. I see children who aren't babies or toddlers anymore. They're school kids now. They read books, learn about life, people and he world around them. They spend hours outside of the house and are exposed to millions of different things and they don't always learn via the filters or prisms that I would like them to use.
They know about death and divorce and have witnessed our fallen soldiers come home. They ask questions of me, hard questions that I cannot answer. They pepper me with them one after the other and it is all I can do to try and keep up.
But they know much more. They know about the joy of life and how much fun it is to laugh and love. They know the sweetness of a puppy licking their face and the beauty of nature. They have seen good and know what it means.
I see these things and when my heart is heavy they lift my spirit. When I find myself dancing in the fire I see them smiling at me and I gain strength.
What I see five years later is a boy who became a man who is still a boy at heart. Five years later there are more stories, more scars and more joy. I suppose that you can say that some of this journey can be attributed to experiences that started 7.5 years ago.
Five years ago I was just beginning to see the possibilities. Five years ago fear and uncertainty held me back from taking a chance. And now five years later I still see the possibilities, but there are clouds and mist around them. So, I face decisions, hard decisions about the future.
But now, five years later I see that time and life experienced has hardened me. I celebrate the rough edges and sharp points because they are necessary. Part of a practical tool kit that will help ensure that when I step into the void I won't fall into a bottomless pit.
What I see five years later is a contradiction of joy and pain, both bitter and sweet. There are more tears to be shed, but not all will be painful. There will be much joy and celebration...one day. When that day is I cannot say, but five years later I see hints of the fruition of my labor.
And so now I sign off wondering what the next five years will provide me with.
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