Labels: blogging, family, life on life's terms, stories, writing

Labels: family, stories, word play

Labels: family, stories, word play

Labels: emotion, family, father's wisdom, life on life's terms, poetry, word play, writing

1. You CAN watch too much CSI

2. You can cough until you puke

3. You can be hungry and too tired to eat

4. Soup is good. Chili not so much

5. Prednisone is an evil drug

6. This isn't my body and I want out

7. Coughing can make you sore in places you didn't know you had

8. It would be helpful if you didn't actually have to breath

9. It is a good time to grow beard

10. My wife is a saint

Labels: common cold, family, life on life's terms, meanderings

Do you know the number one song from 1972? I do, and I’ll never forget it.

It was New Year’s Eve 1972 and I was listening to a radio program, Opus 72, the top 100 hundred songs of the year counted down. I was home alone. I know, it sounds pitiful, but I was happy – I was 14 and home for the holidays from living away at Military School. We lived in a new home on the water in Murrells Inlet, SC and I was enjoying the time alone with my run of the house. I had set up my stepfather’s reel-to-reel tape recorder to record hours of the countdown.

As the hours ran on, I enjoyed song after song, many of which I was hearing for the first time (living in a Military School where the current events were not so assessable had its draw backs). Time rolled on and one by one the songs played. Then the number one song was announced, at midnight – Roberta Flack’s version of “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face.” I had never heard the song before and was overwhelmed by the romance and beauty of it. There, alone on New Year’s Eve, I felt a real message of love and dedication between two people. That song touched a real longing and desire within me and at 14 I knew I wanted to love like that.

I was such a sappy romantic.

First Time Ever I Saw Your Face

The first time ever I saw your face
I thought the sun rose in your eyes
And the moon and stars were the gifts you gave
To the dark and the empty skies, my love,
To the dark and the empty skies.

The first time ever I kissed your mouth
And felt your heart beat close to mine
Like the trembling heart of a captive bird
That was there at my command, my love
That was there at my command.

And the first time ever I lay with you
I felt your heart so close to mine
And I knew our joy would fill the earth
And last till the end of time my love
It would last till the end of time my love

The first time ever I saw your face, your face,
your face, your face ...

Labels: emotion, family, songs

Frankly, I don’t remember if it was a gift on Christmas or one that arrived during the Christmas season, but it is a gift that captures much of what Christmas is truly about – simple giving in love.

My son crafted a Christmas coffee mug when he was a very young lad. He drew the picture himself on the side of the mug – a Christmas tree, two wrapped presents, and angel on the tree top - and then presented it to me. Every year when we bring out the Christmas decorations we replace our normal glasses and mugs with Christmas ones. His gift is always among them, and all season long I reach for that mug with great love and care.

The mug sits around reminding me that I am a most fortunate father, step-father and husband. It reminds me that we never know what act of kindness, no matter how small and ‘imperfect’ will remain permanently in someone’s life. It reminds me how quickly life can change and how important it is to enjoy each simple moment. It reminds me that taking time for a quiet cup of coffee and delicate reflection is important in the busy holidays. It causes me to hear the carols of children singing in church.

Mostly, I see that angel, perched atop the tree and hear an ancient voice speak a timeless message softly through thousands of years, “Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord.”

Merry Christmas.

Labels: blogging, Christmas, coffee, family

This one is from my brother. I've edited it slightly for brevity...

We always waited for dad to get home from work (he always worked late it seemed to me, on Christmas Eve). We always opened gifts on Christmas Eve. One person would pass out the gifts and everyone would pile their gifts up, waiting for all of them to be given out. Then we would rip them open (well I would) as fast as we could, and hold them up for everyone to see. It was over fast but always great.

This one night I went to bed waiting for Santa, sleeping in the PJs I just opened as a gift. The PJs were always too hot for us living at Myrtle Beach, but we put them on and paraded around the room, anyway. I finally did get to sleep that night. Sometime in the early morning I awoke to find the best Santa gift in the world - an electric train set with a black engine that would smoke and a light in the front. The track was already assembled and ready to run. I don't remember any other gifts that year, but I remember the train.

I still have that train.

Labels: blogging, Christmas, family

It seems that there were a number of years when my siblings and I lived by the adage, “The one who has the most presents wins.”

Several times, in the days that led up to Christmas, we would sort the presents under the tree into piles my name. Then would come the accounting as we tallied up the gifts and announced who had the most gifts. I’m not sure why we did it. Perhaps it was just a way of passing time. Perhaps it came from some innate sibling rivalry. Maybe it was just a way of immersing ourselves in the excitement of Christmas. What I do know, as best I recollect, is that I usually won.

Hey. This is my blog and I can tell it like I want to!

Labels: blogging, Christmas, family

Continuing on the Homemade Ornament theme, I also remember what you can make with two Dixie cups and a string.

Make a small hole in the bottom of two paper Dixie cups. Thread a piece of colored yarn through the cups to connect them (tie a knot on each end of the yarn to keep it from pulling through). Then, cover each cup with tin-foil and you now have “Silver Bells” to place on the tree – or on your ears while you run around the house singing Christmas songs – not that I have personally done anything like that – I’m just saying, you could.

Labels: blogging, Christmas, family

If you are willing to risk personal injury, you can make these Christmas ornaments.

In both school and at home I remember making ornaments for the holiday. My mother has always been creative (the license plate on the front her car read “Crafty Lib” for years) and when it came to a inexpensive way to occupy our time at Christmas, she would help us with projects.

Take the lids from soup cans. Smear glue on the sides of the lid. Sprinkle colored glitter on lid. Let dry. Make a hole in the edge of the lid and loop a piece of twine through it. Presto! Homemade tree ornaments!

(NOTE: I know the edges of soup can lids are sharp, but I grew up in a time when parents told children to be careful and we quickly learned that NOT being careful when told usually meant we got hurt. It seems like a lesson that needs to be learned.)

Labels: blogging, Christmas, family

When did you learn that Christmas trees look much smaller at the tree lot, than when you get them home?

For years, every Christmas I would fight the battle of the too tall Christmas tree. No matter how much I tried to reason, explain, and plead, my first wife would insist on having me buy a too-tall-for-the-house tree and we would end up with a tree that looked like it grew into the ceiling.

And every time, she would stand back and proclaim, “It’s perfect.” I guess it was. Why not? If Charlie Brown can conjure sentiment by wrapping a blanket around a twig of a tree, why can’t a tree that encompasses the entire living room and spans across the ceiling be “perfect?”

Christmas perfect is in the eye and heart of the beholder.

Labels: blogging, Christmas, family

When it comes to the perfect Christmas gift, it seems it is the thought that counts, but the gift matters too.

I took a quick poll of my wife, youngest step-daughter and myself (we were all in the same room so it was a poll of the available) in response to the question, “What was your best Christmas present.”

Wife – the year, as a teenager, when my dad gave me a Christmas card with a note good for contact lenses. It was a time when contacts were new – still hard lenses made from glass – and at a time when, even though I wanted them madly, they were expensive and we didn't have a lot of money. I didn't expect them. It was THE BEST surprise.

Step-Daughter – Mom didn't believe in lots of TV or Video games. She’s like that. But, one year, when it was new – mom broke down and got me a Nintendo 64! My older sister was green with envy (she still hasn't gotten over it) because she was never allowed anything like that. We all played Mario Cart Racing until we knew every turn and jump by heart.

Me – I’m a huge fan of Jimmy Buffet. I've had almost every album (that’s what we had before CDs), tape and CD he ever recorded. A couple of years ago my wife gave me tickets to one of his concerts for Christmas. We never talked about it. I never asked for them or even to go. She just knew that I would enjoy and cherish the experience. She was right - Fins Up!

You – What was your best Christmas gift ever? Feel free to share in the comments…

Labels: blogging, Christmas, family

There is much more art to the task of stringing popcorn for the Christmas tree than you might expect.

My mother, brother and I were stringing popcorn. It was my first attempt. Understand, I am the youngest – my sister 6 years my senior and my brother 14 months older than me. My sister had handed out needles and thread.

The process is simple enough. Take a needle and long thread and carefully thread the needle through a piece of popcorn. Repeat the process until you have a nice long string of popcorn and then place it on the Christmas tree for decoration. The problem for me was that every time I tried to push the needle through the popcorn, the darn popcorn would shatter, falling to the floor.

I looked over at my sister. She smiled and threaded another piece of popcorn effortlessly onto the needle. Her strand was almost complete. My brother was moving a little slower, but he was making progress. I had a thread with one piece of broken popcorn on it and a pile of pieces in my lap. This wasn't working. I tried again, and again, the pieces breaking and snapping almost every time and each time the frustration would build – until I shouted, “I can’t DO this!”

My sister snickered. My mother surveyed the situation. “That needle is way too big, Kim,” she said, and began to change the needle and thread for a much smaller one. My sister snickered.

If you asked my OLDER sister today, I’m sure she would still claim that she only gave me the large needle so it would be easier for me to thread it. I still refuse to string popcorn.

Did I mention my sister is much older than me?

Labels: blogging, Christmas, family

The turn of a phrase, especially in the mouth of a one year old can result in beautiful misunderstandings.

Our Christmas tree, like many family trees, is decorated with ornaments from the past years. There are paper framed Polaroid pictures of our children from elementary school, handmade stars and stockings, painted hand molds, Harry Potter figurines and numerous angels, shepherds, Santas and a baby Jesus or two all hanging, resting and occasionally swinging from the tree.

My one year old granddaughter has taken to touching the ornaments and inspecting them closely. She has learned the names of many of them, but this year’s all time winner is the small Nutcracker figure which she insists on calling … ready for this… Nutcookie.

Labels: blogging, Christmas, family

The ringing is incessant and then becomes a silent part of the constant din of noise – cars starting and driving off, and people hurrying by, captured in constant conversation about the last or next shopping destination. And there I stand, most of the times in the cold – always ringing the little brass bell.

I volunteer through my Rotary Club to ring the Salvation Army bell each year. Each year I hesitate to sign up for a couple of hours of standing in the cold. Each year I think of hundreds of other things I could be doing instead, and each year I sign-up to ring that little bell.

It happens to me every year. Somehow, as people walk by – a variety of faces, ages, economic classes – I see them acknowledge the bell and the bucket and what it represents: the presence of charity in our world. And as slowly and steadily breath brings life into my lungs, each time I speak to the passersby “Happy Holidays” or “Merry Christmas” I feel that elusive spirit of Christmas enter into my spirit and I know that beneath and behind all of the trappings of the holiday, people know , need and seek the blessing of Charity.

The ringing of that bell is when I find Christmas, every year and this year, on December 22^nd, I will do it again.

Labels: blogging, Christmas, family, sacred moments

Years ago I received a Christmas card with the text below. It remains my favorite Christmas message of all time. The card had a simple dove in flight, descending on the front of a navy card. Inside, it read:

“Remembering that once, long ago, heaven reach down and touched earth and Hope was born anew.”

Amen.

Labels: blogging, Christmas, family, sacred moments, spirituality

Labels: blogging, Christmas, family, father's wisdom

Here is one – just as my mother sent it to me:

“The eve of Christmas 1945 there was a knock at the door and I answered it. To my great joy and surprise it was my Daddy. He had been in World War II in Japan. I had been sick and they sent him home just at Christmas. What a happy time it was for my family.”

Labels: blogging, Christmas, family

Packed with 10 year old energy and holiday enthusiasm, I went with my mother to buy presents for my brother and sister. I found a simple camera – plastic case, drop-in film (REMEMBER WHEN WE NEEDED FILM?), and a fixed focus lens – that I could afford for my brother. I was BIG TIME excited as we packed it into the bag with the other gifts in the back seat of the car.

I knew my brother (14 months older than me) would NEVER guess what I had bought for him. Christmas was one step closer to fantastic! Later, my brother walked out to the car and climbed into the back seat before my mother and I got to the car. The horror hit me. What if he looked in the bags and saw the camera?!

I rushed to the car, flung open the door and shouted, “Stop! Did you look in that camera?!” My brother just looked at me like I was crazy. Realizing what I had done – I was mortified.

I never have been very good at keeping secrets.

Labels: blogging, Christmas, family

From this year…

My wife heard a crunching sound coming from the living room and after investigating caught her dog, Sunnie, (note when he is bad he is her dog) making a snack out of one of the ornaments. Sunnie was chewing on a low hanging Gingerbread Man Ornament – now a one legged Ginger Bread Man ornament. My wife recued the ornament and re-hung it higher on the tree – leaving the recent Gingerbread Man amputee for others to see and wonder about.

I guess that Ginger Bread Man didn’t “run, run, run as fast as you can” – fast enough…

Labels: blogging, Christmas, family

There are so many Christmas songs. We each remember hymns, carols and tunes from year to year. They’re always one or two ‘new’ songs published each year as artists try to share new twists and themes for the season.

I’ll never forget the year I heard “The 12 Redneck Days of Christmas” for the first time.

(Chorus)(Sung)

12 pack of bud, 11 wrestlin' tickets, Tin a' Copenhagen, 9 years probation, 8 table dancers, 7 packs of Redman, 6 cans of spam... 5 flannel shirts..., 4 big mud tires, 3 shot gun shells, 2 huntin dogs, and some parts to a Mustang GT…

Labels: blogging, Christmas, family, songs

Certain Christmas gifts speak for themselves. It seems my grandmother and grandfather got on a gift theme for a couple of years – gifts that sing.

Two of my favorites were “Billy Bass,” the wall mounted bass that would fold out from the wall and sing “Take Me To the River” and the stuffed reindeer that song “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer” when you squeezed its hand. My granddad, then pushing 90+ years old, would get endless joy from introducing each member of the family to the sounds of Bill Bass and Grandma’s Reindeer.”

Some Christmas gifts speak for themselves – literally.

Labels: blogging, Christmas, family

It isn’t common to have animals taking up residence in your Christmas tree, much less reptiles! A while back, I took to owning an iguana. Purchased a couple of months before Christmas, the second Christmas found my iguana, Grendle, almost three feet long and prone to wander about the house when let out of his cage. He seemed to like sitting along the back of the sofa most, yet one day this mini-Godzilla disappeared. We all looked for him for hours. No luck. Then, my oldest step-daughter gasped and pointed in the direction of the Christmas tree.

Our iguana had nestled in among the branches and seemed to be enjoying the warmth of the lights. From that day forward, until the tree was taken down that year, he would blot for the tree whenever he was released from the cage. It was fun watching visitors discover the beast in the tree.

So, what’s in your Christmas tree?

Labels: blogging, Christmas, family

His wallet was tattered, held together by carefully placed tape and a couple of rubber bands. Being a child of the “Great Depression” my grandfather never believed in wasting anything that had the least bit of use in it – including the remnants of his brown leather wallet.

My grandmother, Nana as she is known to all of us, rarely got the chance to surprise my grandfather. He was just too quick mentally and perceptive about his surroundings, but this year she knew she had gotten one by him. She had bought him a new wallet and carefully wrapped it and placed it at the back of the Christmas tree. Wanting to make sure her gift would be the only wallet, she had secretly told the rest of the family about her plan. Every adult knew – except my grandfather.

Christmas eve we all gathered and opened presents. My grandfather opened Nana’s last. As he carefully released the tape, unfolded the paper and lifted the gift from the box, we all saw his old, torn wallet. “Who in the world gave me an old rotten wallet,” he exclaimed. As everyone watched on shock, he continued, “Why, I’ve a perfectly good wallet right here.” As he lifted Nana’s gift from his pants pocket – it was clear to all of us that he had switched the wallets and rewrapped the box sometime earlier in the weeks preceding Christmas.

To this day we all still chuckle about it and Nana – well she still pretends to be mad.

Labels: blogging, Christmas, family, father's wisdom

My Aunt Betty always did an amazing job wrapping presents. Not only did she hide the tape beneath the folds (this was before double sided tape), but even the wrapping paper with patterns, met and matched at every seam, while the bows, always handmade, top each present with brilliant color and design. Aunt Betty’s presents were a work of art. My Grandmother was always quick to inform us that Betty COULD do those, because she had plenty of time - not having any kids of her own and all – “bless her heart.”

Years later, after Betty and Bobby had children, her wrapping still made me marvel.

Labels: blogging, Christmas, family

Then there was the time that without any provocation and no history of misbehavior, Eleanor the Siamese cat leaped from the ground into the Christmas tree and sent it crashing to the floor. My in-laws, who housed the cat, subsequently tied the tree to the door hinge with twine ever year – even after Eleanor died.

Labels: blogging, Christmas, emotion, family

Labels: blogging, Christmas, family

I don’t know what possessed me. Most of us were standing back stage in the elementary school cafeteria that doubled as our auditorium. I was in the fourth grade and we had just begun to plan for the Christmas program. We were all singing America and although I was always an outgoing child, I didn't know the first thing about singing but when we got to “…above the fruited plains” I couldn't help myself. Something deep inside of me expanded and I sang so loudly that the music teacher rang back stage shouting, “Who is that!?”

I sang “O Holy Night” as a solo that year. It was one of my first “on stage” moments. It is one of my mother’s all time favorite memories – mine too.

Labels: blogging, Christmas, emotion, family

The colors of blue, green, red and bright white danced across the ceiling; the patterns always different - an intertwining of light, creating brief illusions of texture and living shapes. If I listened closely I could hear the ping of the bulbs as they flashed individually on and off. I lie on my back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling watching for repeat patterns and tried to imagine what would come next. My thoughts flashed from the lights to the coming of Christmas. What was in the present under the tree wrapped in the bright green paper with my name on it?

I could have stayed there forever. In some ways, I guess I did.

Labels: Christmas, emotion, family

The single pane glass quickly fogged beneath my breath. I leaned back and did my best to draw a snowman in the white moisture. Now neatly lined up along the middle row of window squares were a rain deer, Santa face, Christmas tree and now a snow man. I was passing the time waiting for my Uncle Bobby and Aunt Betty to arrive for the long awaited Christmas Eve family gathering – when we would exchange and open presents.

To a child this was a moment of waiting that can’t be described in terms of excitement or anticipation, and I was a child then. I don’t remember when they arrived. I don’t recall what presents were given or received. Yet, for some reason, I can remember the feel of the cool glass on my nose and the sound of my finger drawing lines through the moist fog – and more than anything else, I remember being excited and happy.

Labels: blogging, Christmas, family

1. That favorite dish your mom makes is still as good as you remember.

2. Somebody in the family is in trouble with the law again this year.

3. You are probably the only one driving a Honda.

4. Smoking is still expected inside at all times.

5. There is NOT, no matter how much we talk about it, an annual family tradition.

6. You will be expected to participate in the annual family tradition.

7. You are expected at Christmas if you didn’t visit for Thanksgiving.

8. Football will be explained with hunting analogies.

9. Hunting will be explained with football analogies.

10. There will be no raw, steamed, green or leafy vegetables at the holiday table.

11. There is always something that needs to be fetched from the store.

12. You will talk for hours and never really say anything.

13. No matter how hard you try not to, you will spend hours trying to figure out what everyone is really saying.

14. You are related to everyone there and you won’t know several people.

15. Everyone there loves each other as best they know how.

And, You will either leave this holiday gathering thinking your family is a dysfunctional tragedy or the funniest assortment of people you could ever imagine – it totally depends on you.

Labels: Christmas, emotion, family, life on life's terms, vacation destinations

Labels: blogging, family, social networking, travel, twitter

I found myself

Humming into the mattress

With you

It was an accidental thing

An exhale that sent a slight vibration

Through the sheets

I enjoyed the sound

The sense

Of my humming

Beside you – with you

The vibrant ripples made me giggle

And roll joyfully

Leaving all tension and dis-ease

I found myself

Humming into the mattress

Thank you

Labels: emotion, family, life on life's terms, meanderings, music, poetry

The beach remembers

Lover's tastes and trash

And it can't forget

Too many breezes blow

In strong currents

And sand tossing tourists

Piles of humanity

Discarded playthings

And burnt butts

Cans crushed under foot

Seasoned among sea oats

And barley stained

His hands upon her

Rumpled sands swaying

And tides wetting

Every passion gets remembered

By the beach beneath us

And our trash

Labels: emotion, family, life on life's terms, meanderings, poetry, sacred moments, sea, spirituality, vacation destinations

Paint Me Not

Paint me not in shades of brilliant blue and red

Coloring over my misguided lines of glossy black

And smeared greys

Don’t layer me over with sentiment and morality

Forgetting my deformity of thought

And bare deeds

Have the fortitude to lay it out

As I was and am naked and old, withered

And decaying now

My life will be dust soon enough and should not be concealed while it can be revealed.

Note: Inspiration comes when it is ready. I was viewing a photo and a post over at MelodyWatson.com and somehow, my thoughts and feelings lead to the poem above...

Labels: blogging, emotion, family, life on life's terms, meanderings, poetry, writing

Labels: emotion, family, father's wisdom, life on life's terms, meanderings, writing

Labels: blogging, emotion, family, gender stuff, meanderings, prose, word play, writing

It should have been a strange experience, but it wasn’t.

The room was filled with chatting and laughter. An arrangement of peculiar instruments were placed at one end of the room – didgeridoos, drums, crystal bowls, bull-roars, various flutes from around the world, chimes and items I could not identify formed a semi circle around two men.

My wife had arranged the evening, as she is prone to do, with certainty of purpose. She knows me, and she knows the likelihood of me pursuing such an event on my own is slim. She also knows that the reality of my appreciating and benefiting from such an experience is almost certain. We had registered and made our way back to the main room amid gathering people, nervous laughter, meaningful hugs and an atmosphere of escalating curiosity.

The group of us, about 15 in all, found our places; lying on the floor supported by various mats, pillows and blankets. After a brief explanation, the sounds began. This was advertised as an evening of sound and healing. Amid sometimes gentle and sometimes piercing sounds, I rested motionless and felt my way through the evening. Images came and went. Ideas floating in, some staying a while, and then out. I was sometimes aware of the movement and noises of others. Moments found me very aware of where I was and what was going on. Moments found me adrift in the twilight of relief. Then, as simply as it began, it stopped.

I listened as others shared of their experiences, stories of traveling to other places, regressing to previous life moments, journeying inward to spiritual realms. I understood much of what was shared – conceptually, at least. I just listened.

For me, it wasn’t about going anywhere. It was more about what came to me, and even that, the coming to me, I can’t really describe. What I can tell you is that I have slept wonderfully ever since. Something rode in on the waves of crystal bowls, and in the swirls of twirling blades, and through the chanting of ancient flutes. Something came gently on the tunes of voices and the rhythm of drums. Something of great value came and drifted through the discontinuity of my thoughts, images and sensations. It should have been a strange experience, but it wasn’t. The healing was, well, normal.

Good night.

Labels: blogging, emotion, family, life on life's terms, meanderings, prose, songs, spirituality

Labels: blogging, family, life on life's terms

Him – Lets go hiking this weekend.

Her – Sure. I’d like that.

Him – We could go up to Pilot Mountain. The same trail we did last time.

Her – Sounds good.

Him – Maybe we will beat last week’s time!

Her – Why is it always a competition with you?

Him – What? I’m not trying to beat you.

Her – Not me. Why is always about performance, being better.

Him – Huh? Something wrong with wanting to be better?

Her – That’s not the point. Why can’t you just be…

Him – I am…being better!

Her – Not funny. I give up…

Him – Sorry. Seriously, I don’t follow you.

Her – Why can’t you – we – us just be on a hike? Why does it always have to be about performance, accomplishment? Can’t you just be?

Him – Of course. I am being, I guess. You mean like being one with nature? Meditation and all that?

Her – No. Never mind.

Him – Ok. I don’t have to push for a better time. You can lead. You can set the pace.

Her – Fine…

Him – Look, seriously, it isn’t that important. I really just like hiking with you. I like the way you talk about all sorts of things, and I like listening. I really like being with…

Her – Yes??

Him – I just got it.

Her – Good. So we can just hike together?

Him – Yes. But, we still might make good time.

Her – You’re impossible.

Labels: blogging, emotion, family, hiking

Labels: blogging, emotion, family, life on life's terms, meanderings, poetry, songs, word play

Labels: blogging, family, meanderings, photos

I'm a bit late with the second phase my public writing journey. Here is what I've 'carved' from the raw block of words - so far.

I grew up in Myrtle Beach, SC one of the largest beach tourist destinations on the east coast. In many ways I was a beach rat, spending my summers working at my family’s ocean front hotels and making friends with our weekly guests, and their daughters. Mine was a life filled with those summer days of youthful zeal, sun-tanned skin, wind blown hair and new beginnings. Every week was a new start with clean rooms and new guests. The four month vacation season dominated all that we did. It seemed that school, and all things winter, were simply the time we spent remembering or preparing for summer. Summer was our time. Summer was the time when we thrived economically and personally. I always lived in summer. The heat of the sun blazed down from the sky and up from the sand. The sea tossed its mist into our air and we breathed in the damp essence of life. Living so close to the sea, we drew our life from it day in and day out. The sea held us and brought life to us. Its vast reservoir, pulsing with each tide, offered to and collected from everything it touched. It is this giving and collecting, that I have witness many times.

The sea gives. My grandfather and father were both sailors. Their comfort with the sea and its gifts of food and fellowship were passed to me. I can remember the day my brother and I spent a day catching hundreds of small ‘spots’ only to face the task of scaling and cleaning them into the night. My grandfather taught us that day about finishing the tasks we started and about the sequence of work to reward. It was fun to catch. It was work to clean. We had to do both to eat. It was the sea, as it lingered in the marsh and inlets that gave us this opportunity.

The sea gives. I have witnessed many occasions of children and adults finding the sea for the first time. They had been inlanders all of their life and never seen the sea. That seems strange to me, even now. What a change of perspective that must be – to see the sea, to see and feel for the first time the sea from which we are created…

Labels: blogging, emotion, family, father's wisdom, sea, travel, word play, writing

I attended a writer’s class recently for five weeks. Christopher Laney (writer, pilot and all around amazing human being) lead the group. I have struggled with writing. It isn't the need for stories to tell or a lack of love for words that holds me back, but one of my blocks is that I sit down to write and what comes out, for all of it’s potential, isn't that good. It has ‘good’ in it, but it just isn't the ‘perfect’ piece I would like to write – so, I write only rarely – when the inspiration bludgeons me to action.

Christopher shared an analogy with us. In the same way a sculptor must begin with a block of stone in order to carve a work of art, the writer must begin with a mass of words and begin the process of carving piece from them. I have been experimenting with this approach by writing free-form for 30-40 minutes and then slowly sculpting something from the mass of ideas and words generated in the free-form time.  I thought it might be fun to share one of these sculpting projects with you, so I have posted below the mass of words from which I will be seeking to carve something akin to an essay. I plan to post another phase of this next weekend, and I invite you to return and see what has been released from this writer’s block of word stone…

Rivers, oceans and streams collect things – rain, mud, branches, sand, and the dead. Dead birds, fish, people. He went to sleep with the fishes.

Time heals all wounds, well time allows for adequate decay, anyway. It softens, swells, expands until it pops- melts looses from its form (lets loose itself?) and changes into the collective. In water we are all borg – resistance is futile – really it isn't present at all.

Finally it becomes homogeneous – a mixture of all things , formless, laps with all tides and waves, a rocky cradle of the world’s mush – oatmeal of everything.

Some would say we came from the sea, an evolution of undaunted genetics that have to, must evolve – gather its one self and form to conform to demands of our own becoming. So with the waxing and waning, the tugging of the moon’s tidings upon us – a planetary massaging of our little planet – we have become this formed p[lace and these formed creatures, plants, people and things.

Some speak if coming from and returning to our creator, and if such is true then we are created by the hands of the sea. See then the sea in all of us? See all of us in the sea?

We do return to the sea – the splashing of childish play and delight (I witnessed many occasions of children and adults witnessing the sea for the first time – they have been in-landers all of their life and never seen the sea. That seems strange to me – what a change of perspective that must be – to see the sea, to see and feel for the first time the sea from which we are created?), the percussion of a dead body dropped form the pier, the trickle of mucus-like decay through soil, water tables and into the streams that feed the sea – we all return. We return and melt and blend in to the great sea – dissolved and transported.

Then some poor fool turns on a tap and drinks us.

Labels: blog games, blogging, emotion, family, life on life's terms, spirituality, word play, writing

Clinging to branches among the oaks

Timeless observer of time’s passing

You sway through breezes and revolutions

Directing humanity’s passage

As if orchestrating a divine symphony

With nothing but a wisp connecting you

To the lofty vantage from which you observe

Coy and unaffected

Your slight presence fans our dreams

As a winter wind stirs the smoldering fire

Little more than air feeds you

A hint of sea salt to spice your tasting

Of our adventures and chaos

You remain, lingering luscious

As the memory of a lover’s sigh

Eternally upon us

Labels: blogging, emotion, family, poetry, spirituality, travel, word play

The planes don’t bother me anymore. When I first started traveling to Raleigh, NC, the roar of the jets landing and taking off was disturbing. The first few nights, sleeping was impossible, rendered fretful by the random rumblings and vibrations. The deepest slumber couldn’t prevent their intrusions into my mind. Sporadically they bludgeoned me awake, torturing me in tension between denied sleep and imposed consciousness. Tonight I barely notice them, a transient drift of sound, a passing song. The planes don’t bother me anymore.

When does something bothersome get absorbed into our awareness and become normal? What shifts in our perceptions and understandings might allow us to accommodate such a change? Is it a slowly growing numbness like getting accustomed to cold ocean waters on a March morning? Does it happen more suddenly as if the nerves that carried crisp messages of pain suddenly misfired and went silent? Is it a choice? Do we choose to adapt one day and casually flip off the switch of caring? When does the new become old?

 What is that old saying? “The devil we know is better than the devil we fear?” No, that isn’t it, but I know there is one – something about new things becoming old things. “Something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue.” Yes. It is like getting married, in a way, when the new becomes familiar.

Getting married used to be, or at least we pretend it used to be, a rite of passage when many things formally taboo suddenly, in the blink of an eye, the moment of a kiss and the placement of a ring, are turned to sacred and expected to become normal. Permission from some higher authority gives us consent and instantly we change. Yet, it doesn’t happen so quickly. It takes time for us to travel from the something new to the something old, the familiar something.

We travel, though, finding ways to understand, cope, and even accept things that once surprised us. The towel left on the floor every morning, tucked away in the corner between the tub and the wall annoys us. At first we discuss and argue over the silliness of it.

“Why don’t you just hang it up?”

“I don’t know. I’ll pick it up next time.”

The next time it does get hung neatly on the rack, but soon the ‘next time’ gets lost and there’s the tossed towel, again; a damp, lifeless testimony to some inability to change. Then there comes a moment when we realize that this is a small thing, after all, and there are so many, must be so many, bigger than damp towel things. So we adjust. The cap gets left off the toothpaste and we manage to stop seeing it. The crumbs settle into the sheets and we grow accustomed to the little nuisances, simply brushing them aside to scatter somewhere else.

It isn’t a problem, really, accommodating the nuances of another, is it? Most would say, “No.” But, we have seen it matter. Sometimes it costs us too much.

Who knows when it happened to Sally? Somewhere between the something new and the something old she lost herself. Somewhere beyond the damp towel and a routine of rage she found herself staring at the barrel of a gun pointed at her like an accusing finger, like his finger. She trembled with fear. She stood there with a docile acceptance that kept her stationary when running should have been an option. It was her passive, undaunted acceptance that did her in. The bullet launched from the barrel and punctuated its own message through her skull and brain and into the plaster. She had accommodated too much. Some higher authority had been heard by her alone and commissioned her journey from startling to familiar, too far.

It is a precarious route we maneuver when we make those things new into things old, when we cease to be surprised and alarmed by the unkempt towels, loud noises in the dark and the violations of our peace. Sometimes we travel too far. Tonight I find myself wondering what else has found its passage to benign acceptance in my world along with the planes that don’t bother me anymore.

Labels: blogging, emotion, family, life on life's terms, word play, writing

Words are abundant and free flowing, tokens tossed into our lives, plentiful, over available loud and empty cases more often than not. We throw them around like a used tea bag or an under valued cap that we flipped onto the floor only later to be kicked under the bed thoughtlessly when walking past, devoted to more important things, left there to settle into uselessness with the dust mites and pet dander.

Hello, how are you?

Good, you?

What are you doing?

I know that, but…

New and improved

Do you have a minute?

Whatever you want to do

It isn’t about the money

I love you

Yet, when the words are spoken at the right time, a time book ended between mutual struggles, and collective losses gathered along the common road of years battling commonality and mediocrity and when those words are spoken between you and that now dear and dying friend or quoted to you by someone who heard them spoken of you by that same collaborator of greatness – then those words mean more than the very life into which they are spoken.

Such was my day, today.

Labels: blogging, emotion, family, life on life's terms, spirituality, word play

Labels: emotion, exercise, family, food, gender stuff, life on life's terms

We are far enough into the New Year that I have heard and read my fair share of New Year’s posts and opinions.  I guess I’ll take a moment and share my thoughts.

Often I find myself looking in to the New Year and thinking about what new things I want to accomplish. Resolutions are often about what we want to make different in our lives: loose ten pounds, run a marathon, get a better job, save money, reduce debt, stop smoking, etc. There are a few things I hope to accomplish this year, and the truth is that my bets hope of accomplishing these new things isn’t a magical New Year’s resolution. 

I do well to look not so much at what I want to change, but what I am currently doing that is working. Even a momentary reflection on the characteristics of my life that contribute to my success reveals simple habits that, while often difficult to follow, are essential to getting anything done. This year I am beginning with a New Year’s Renew list. I am renewing my commitment to the habits and actions that are a part of my success and then looking at a few things I want to accomplish with these proven, daily habits. The difference is that I am focusing on resolute living rather than living a list of resolutions.

Resolute Living

1. Each day I will decide to abstain from alcohol and other drugs. I have made this choice daily since July 10, 1999 and it has made all the difference in my life
   
2. Pray each morning for “Knowledge of God’s will for me and the power to carry that out.”
3. Respect other peoples (and my) time – be where I have agreed to be when I have agreed to be there. I am not perfect at executing this, but I am committed to the value of it.
4. Be mindful of the Rotary Four-Way Test – Of The Things We Say and Do
1. Is it the Truth?
2. Is it fair to all concerned?
3. Will it build good will and better friendships?
4. Is it beneficial to all concerned?

5. Listen to others and seek to understand their point of view.
6. Pay my bills on time.
7. Exercise multiple times each week.
8. Keep my weight between 145-155lbs.
9. Take the medications prescribed by my doctor as prescribed.
10. Hike.
11. Get a full night’s sleep (6-8 hrs) most nights.
12. Read books for fun.
13. Read books for education.
14. Maintain a blog.
15. Save some money each month.
16. Tell jokes (no matter how lame).
17. Read the comics.
18. Volunteer to help others in some way every month.
19. Work the steps of the simple program that I have chosen to help me better live my life.
20. Never take the advice of someone more messed up than I am.
21. Write about the creative ideas and images that move me.
22. Work faithfully and dependably for my income.
23. Take a vacation with my wife. 

Resolutions for 2009 

1. Attend a writing workshop/class.
2. Speak publicly ten times.
3. Submit something written for publication.
4. Hike the Alum Cave Trail.
5. Purchase a new Audio/Video system for the den.

I am sure there is more, but this is what I have for here, for now…

Labels: 2009, blogging, emotion, exercise, family, hiking, music, poetry, spirituality, travel, vacation destinations, word play, work out

Labels: blogging, Christmas, emotion, family, gender stuff, spirituality

Labels: family, New York City, travel, vacation destinations

Labels: emotion, family, father's wisdom, life on life's terms, spirituality

Labels: emotion, family, life on life's terms, spirituality

Labels: family, father's wisdom