Random Thoughts- Do They Have Meaning?

Failure

2009-11-03T23:01:00.000-08:00

I am glad that I can't see my reflection in the computer monitor. I am not up for seeing dark circles beneath my eyes and the new lines in my forehead. I am not interested in reality intruding upon my vision of myself, not at this moment.

Right now I am listening to the soundtrack to The Good, The Bad & The Ugly. It is a fine soundtrack and a favorite selection. Sometimes I put it on and pretend that I am the lonely gun slinger. I ride alone and apart, occasionally wandering into various towns for whatever purpose I find there.

The Ecstasy of the Gold is playing now. Later on I'll try to come back to this and provide a link to it. It is fabulous music. Every time I hear it I picture myself on horseback. We are riding at a steady canter towards something that I can't quite see because the sun is in my eyes.

People often mistake that squint for a steely glare. It comes across as menacing to some and sexy to others. What no one realizes is that here in the Old West I don't have sunglasses and if I did, I wouldn't be squinting.

I like hiding out here. It is one of the places where I take refuge when things get tough. Sometimes I take myself back to Jerusalem. Sometimes I roam through the Old City. Sometimes I go through Jaffa Gate and wander through the Shuk.

Eyes closed I focus on the sights, sounds and smells. In some ways it is not so different from L.A. Wander certain streets here and you here a mix of languages just as you do there. Wander certain streets and you can feel like you have stepped into another world.

*********

The boys and I have been discussing failure. It has come up a few times and not just in the academic sense. We talk about jobs and relationships that didn't work out. We talk about teaching our children how to deal with failure, whether it is even a topic that should be broached.

I always say that it is ok. My position is simple, it is something that they need to learn about. I don't want to destroy their self esteem or wreck fragile egos. But I don't want emotional cripples who are unable to cope when life beats them down.

Because the day will come when it will. The day will come when they fail at something and I want them to be capable of handling it.

Some parents always rescue their kids.I disagree with doing this across the board. It is is just asking for trouble.

One day I'll talk to my children about my failures. I have a few to share. They vary in size and scope, but they exist. Some of them are painful. Some of them are embarrassing. I don't know that I'll share them all, but some.

I think that I have said enough for now. Time to return to that Nanowrimo, 50,000 words to write during November challenge thing.

A Dead BlackBerry & A Flat Tire Make Jack Extra Cranky

2009-11-03T22:40:00.000-08:00

It is just a hair short of 10:30 on a Tuesday night and I am floating between foul and fair, moods that is. I have plenty to be thankful for and a lot to be angry about. Another untimely death last week of someone I once knew, the BlackBerry and the damn tire have me wound up.

At the same time I have a sort of whimsical feeling. It reminds me a bit of the old days when I was a lad. Those days when I had my own apartment and no responsibilities at all. I spent more than a few nights floating on a raft in the middle of the pool.

Sometimes I'd spend the entire night on that raft. I'd wake up with the sun, feeling refreshed. Life was different then, as well it should be.

I hadn't a clue that I'd ever be in the position I am today. Couldn't have foreseen any of this. It just never occurred to me. As to whether that was ignorance, naivete or what I can't say or care not to speculate about. It doesn't really matter.

The BlackBerry took its final breath Sunday afternoon. Although I had backed up most of my data, there was a portion that I hadn't gotten to. Its death was sudden so I never did get the chance to save those few things. Some simple messages that had more meaning to me are lost.

Sure, I remember them. The most important were seared upon my soul. You can call that melodramatic or hyperbole if you wish, but they meant that much to me. And the one who sent them knows that what I say is so.Not that it matters.

So here I sit, wondering how long I will be placed in the wonderful world of the absurd. This is not the life that I signed up for, but at the moment it is the one that I have.

I am doing the best that I can to make it all work. I think that I'll end this here and start a new post to whine in.

This Postcard Reminds me a bit Of Hungry Heart

2009-11-03T16:00:00.000-08:00

Postcard
Hungry Heart

P.S. I still submit 28 cards to Post Secret each week. Can you guess which are mine.

A Musical Interlude

2009-11-03T12:31:00.000-08:00

Superman- R.E.M. (An old anthem)
Candy Everybody Wants - 10,000 Maniacs with Michael Stipe
Red Rain -Peter Gabriel Natalie Merchant R.E.M.
More Than This-10,000 Maniacs w/o Natalie Merchant
More Than This - Roxy Music (high school is calling.)
Synchronicity II- The Police
Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic- The Police (sometimes I dance with my daughter to this.)
Begin The Begin - R.E.M.
You're The First, The Last, My Everything - Barry White
The Song Remains The Same- Led Zeppelin
Thunderstruck- AC/DC
Idan Raichel

"I Don't Want To Kiss My Husband Ever Again"

2009-11-02T14:49:00.000-08:00

I said that I would try to participate in NaNoWriMo. I figured that I'd tie it into a story I already started writing. I am trying to decide if I am going to integrate or substitute this post with the third one.

Who Broke Your Heart- Things You Might Not Know
The End of a Marriage
A 21st Century Break Up

And now on to our story:
I have a graphic memory. I dream and think in technicolor or maybe I should say high definition. My dreams are full featured spectacles. It is great when I dream about happy things, but not so good if they are sad or disturbing.

As a young boy I used to wonder if there was a way to control my dreams. I figured that it was nothing more than concentrating hard enough. So I spent more than a few nights lying in bed focused upon whatever it was that I was chasing. Some nights it was images of me chasing down fly balls in Dodger Stadium and or hitting the game winning home run. Other times it was me as a different sort of hero.

I suppose that it is fair to say that in many ways not much has changed. The boy grew into a man who still dreams of playing pro ball or of being a hero. All he needs is a chance. Although to be fair the man recognizes that some dreams will have to remain locked inside the vault.

It was the morning after and I was still in bed. It had taken hours to fall asleep. The news that she was single had a bigger impact upon me than I would have guessed it would. I didn't want to think about it. Didn't want to play memory lane. I didn't want to have one of those dreams and wake up to discover that reality was different than I might want it to be.

The meal with my daughter and the girls was grueling. They didn't understand that some scars don't heal. They didn't understand that I much preferred the safety of my own life. Being single wasn't so bad. I didn't worry about forgetting special dates. Never had to try and decipher whether a look or a comment meant that I was in trouble again for some other transgression.

In concept it made a lot of sense to me to say goodbye to women. I knew what I needed to know. I had served a life sentence known as marriage. I helped propagate the species. When I was instructed to go forth and multiply I did it.I listened to them.

That is big stuff, my listening. Ask those who know me and you'll be told that I have an amazing ability to suddenly go deaf. More than one person called it irritating, but me, I called it survival.

All would be perfect, or close to it, were it not for my daughter and the girls. Did I mention that they don't like it when I call them girls. Sometimes I like to aggravate them by talking about how you can't trust a broad, not a single one of them.

The thing is, they know me too well. They refused to let me bait them into a different topic. They have an agenda and I am at the top of the list. And people wonder why I say I feel like I have a target on my back.

Midway through our meal Sheri asked me if I remembered what her marriage was like. I smiled and told her that she should have married me. That earned me another one of those withering looks and a sharp rebuke from my daughter.

Great, and to think that I thought that I owned the look and the lecture she gave me. But because I am rarely at a loss for words I told her that I have been inoculated against that sort of thing. She of course didn't care. Damn, if she isn't like me. Moments like this make me wonder if I should be proud or frightened of her.

But I digress.

Sheri jumped back into her story and asked me if I knew how she realized that her marriage was over. I was tempted to provide another smart ass remark, but something told me that it was smarter to stay quiet.

"When I realized that I never wanted to kiss my husband again, I knew that it was over."

"Well, we share that in common. I never want to kiss your husband again either. For that matter I don't want to sleep with him, he snores far too loudly," I said.

I know, the smart ass remark didn't help, but how could I let that one go. Again she ignored me and continued on."

"When you find the kind of love and relationship that you had you don't let go."

That wiped the smile off of my face. I looked at her and thanked her for her opinion. Before anyone could go on I explained that it had been made very clear to me that she was done. It didn't matter what I wanted, or what I thought. She was done.

My daughter came around the table and hugged me. She told me that she had no idea that my feelings for her were so deep and that I owed it to myself to not just ignore the opportunity.

I was surprised by my anger. I did my best not to bark at her, but I am not sure that I was successful. "This is not reality. This is not some stupid movie where I get to ride up to her ranch, grab her and ride off into the sunset"

"She gave up on us and she gave up on me."

For a moment there was silence. It took me a moment to realize that both my jaws and fists were clenched. I took a deep breath and thanked them for their thinking about me.

Sheri smiled and told me that she was sorry. In a soft voice she said that I needed to remember that some loves never really die and that we had been victims of bad timing. "Call her. There is a reason why you are being given a second chance."

I smiled back at her. "I'll think about it." And then I said a silent prayer of thanks that none of them knew how hard my heart was pounding.

Turkish Coffee Round Up

2009-11-02T01:00:00.000-08:00

Instead of sleeping I am here to provide you with a round up of recent posts:

Priorities: What I Need Versus What I Want
How Women Choose Shoes
Why Carve Pumpkins?
Things That Frighten Me 2009
Mothers Love Their Mommies Too
What Brings You Joy?

And there is plenty more. Just look at the links on the side of the page.

Priorities: What I Need Versus What I Want

2009-11-02T00:42:00.000-08:00

There are more than a couple of candy wrappers sitting on the desk in front of me. I'd like to lie and say that they were for carrots and celery, but you wouldn't believe that now would you. The iPod Touch is set to shuffle and Jimmy Buffet is singing Why Don't We Get Drunk and Screw.

It is close to midnight or perhaps a few minutes thereafter. Some call it the witching hour, I call it quiet time. My favorite time to think deep thoughts. Quiet moments in which I let my mind wander wherever it will.

Three hours ago I sat by myself in a small cafe drinking Turkish coffee and watching traffic. One of the local papers lay open in front of me. A television behind me played bits from the news. The dread Gosselin divorce debacle and the crazy McCourts were mentioned and it got me thinking about life and what I wanted.

So I started to draw up a mental list of what I want. I intentionally didn't set any limits upon it. All things were possible, super strength, intelligence, the ability to fly, no problem. Add some cool Italian sports car, a house on the beach, private jets and unlimited wealth and you'd see a big smile on my face.

After a moment or two I let go of the fantasy and started to circle back to what was possible. I could show you my inner geek by talking about jetpacks and exoskeletons and how they could offer flight and super strength, but that is not really where I am going with this.

I want cash. As the boys used to say, cash money. It is not because I am materialistic, but because deep pockets offer some opportunities that I'd like to pursue. It would be great to have time to pursue some hobbies with more vigor. It would be amazing to be able to go back to college to get a degree in something just for the hell of it.

Dr. Jack would have degrees in Medicine, Archeology, History and more. It would be great. It would be incredible.

It was fun to think about. For a moment I closed my eyes, enjoyed the scent of the coffee and pictured myself wearing a Fedora a bullwhip. Or was it garbed in scrubs.

My day dream was interrupted by the sound of a horn honking and people shouting. As long as I had to come back to reality I figured I might as well focus on composing a list of what I need. It is an interesting question and one that can potentially change your life.

Is it a coincidence that Jimmy is singing A Pirate Looks at 40.

Anyway, it is life changing in the respect that it might give you some direction that you didn't have. Or maybe not. It is a subjective thing, this search for what you need. And it is something that is dynamic, it changes.What I wanted and what I needed in my twenties is not exactly what I am looking for.

If I wanted to get caught up in confusion I could find myself spinning in circles. You know, one could go crazy with fear that it is pointless to make choices now because you may change. I have more than a few friends who have remained single for this very reason.

They feared that taking a wife or life partner would leave them without options. That doing so would place them in a relationship in which they would inevitably grow apart.

I understand their fear. I know how that can happen, but it is not a reason to stay single. At least not from where I sit.

If you are with the right person it is whole different story. With the right person sometimes what you need is nothing more than a modest home to share with them. Quiet moments to share and moonlit nights to wander beneath. With the right person there are adventures big and small to be discovered.

But I digress. I am building my lists of what I want and what I need. And once I complete them I will begin working upon the plan. Goals and objectives will be set, and maybe I'll imitate that wacky Shmata Queen and get all giddy when I get to cross things off the list.

Although I doubt it. I kind of prefer leaving some mystery in it, but we'll leave that discussion for a different time.

Shoes

2009-11-01T19:10:00.001-08:00

via cracked.com

Read the whole thing at Cracked (http://www.cracked.com/funny-2422-shoes/)

Posted via web from thejackb's posterous

The Best Of The Jewish/Israeli Blogosphere #241

2009-11-01T08:57:00.000-08:00

Morning all. A quick note to let you know that Haveil Havalim #241 is live at Simply Jews.

Blog Facts

2009-10-31T23:56:00.000-07:00

Periodically I churn out a post with all sorts of data about this place. It is a never ending source of fascination for me, how people find this joint, what they read, where they come from etc. It is also a tool I use when I can't decide what I want to write about.

So join me as we take a few minutes to review this useless but necessary information.

The Most Popular Posts haven't really changed. They still include the usual items such as:

The Duggar Family Revisited
What Are Your Favorite Song Lyrics?
The Heart Wants What The Heart Wants
Too Much Information- The Girl in the Men's Room
Teaching Children To Lose Gracefully
Why The Baal Teshuva World Irritates Me
Cover Songs- Part One

As you can see it is the usual mix of personal and provocative. If it wasn't close to midnight I might engage in some real analysis of it.

Keywords that led you here:

Come back to me June
random thoughts
the heart wants what the heart wants
Kabbalah quotes about besheret
Rules for dating my daughter
meaning of static electricity
Besheret
frumsex
what does a fighter pilot do when the need to go the bathroom
how to dispose of clutter
letter for my children
sexualy incompatible marriage
how many fearful thoughts do humans have in a day
how to entertain myself during class
are heroes born or made

Here is a link to a previous post that discussed some of this.

Why Carve Pumpkins?

2009-10-31T14:21:00.000-07:00

The story of the Jack o'Lantern comes from Irish folklore. Jack was a crafty farmer who tricked the Devil into climbing a tall tree.

When the Devil reached the highest branch, Jack carved a large cross in the trunk, making it impossible for the Devil to climb down. In exchange for help getting out of the tree, the Devil promised never to tempt Jack with evil again.

When Jack died, he was turned away from Heaven for his sins and turned away from Hell because of his trickery. Condemned to wander the Earth without rest, Jack carved out one of his turnips, took an ember from the devil, and used it for a lantern to light his way. He became known as "Jack of the Lantern."

I found the story here, including a recipe for roasting pumpkin seeds.

Another interesting fact to share, "Today, pumpkins mean big business at Halloween: U.S. farmers grow over a billion pounds a year, worth about $106 million."

Things That Frighten Me 2009

2009-10-30T18:16:00.000-07:00

Every year I run a post that offers a list of things that frighten me. This list was composed around 2005 or so. As it says below some of these are still relevant and some are from the distant past. I probably should take a hard look and see if it is time to add or delete things.

This a list of things that have frightened me in my life. Some are still relevant and some are not. But I thought that it might be interesting to just throw them all out there to see what they look like during daylight hours. P.S. I have explanations for all of these, but I may not include them on the list. Why? I just don't feel like it. :)
The Dark.
The Amityville Horror scared me.
Oscar the Grouch
Bigfoot- The one from the Bionic Man television Show. He gave Steve Austin plenty of trouble.
The Creature in the Legend of Boggy Creek
A couple of dogs that chased me on my paper route.
The homeless guy from the park.
V.L.- He and I got into a fight in high school. I pretty much kicked his ass up and down the corridor, but I do remember shaking with adrenalin afterwards. For about two weeks I was concerned that I was going to have to face him and his older brother again.
Having my heart broken again.
Breaking someone's heart.
Not being able to provide for my family.
Letting my children down.
Not making it to the bathroom in time.
Finding out that I have a child that I didn't know about.- Ladies this is never a problem for you, but we men wonder about this sometimes.
Being mugged at an ATM- When I was in college a guy was murdered at the ATM I used that day. It was several hours after I had used it, but....
Something happening to my children.
Getting stuck at a job I hate.
Never living out my dreams.
Being paralyzed.
Losing a parent/close friend or family member- Actually I have lost several friends and family members, but it is still a fear.
Being eaten alive or mauled seriously by a ho g. (But I won't go down easily, so sirree Bob.)
Losing my perspective on life and why most of these things are nonsense.

Mothers Love Their Mommies Too

2009-10-30T15:18:00.000-07:00

It is Friday afternoon and I am staring at a blank screen. I have my iTunes on shuffle now. A New Game is Playing. It is good music for a football game, not so good for the topic. I click the button and up comes Golden Slumbers and The End by The Beatles. It is more appropriate.

"And in the end

The love you take

Is equal to the love you make."

I just finished speaking with my father about my grandmother and my mother. Grandma is slipping away. Slowly pieces are being taken off of the table and it is becoming more evident that slips of the tongue are not exactly accidental anymore.

My mother is tough as is her mom. But tough doesn't prepare you for watching your parents lose their invulnerability. Strength may help you deal with it, but it doesn't really make it easier to watch them become less than they once were.

Grandma is 95, almost 95.5. Her great grandchildren are rooting for her and grandpa to hit 100. Truth is that her children and grandchildren are too, but we're sadly skeptical about this.

When I think of people who love life I always think of grandma. She has always been among the happiest, most optimistic people I know. Until a few years ago you would have described her as a powerhouse of energy. She exercised every day well into her eighties.

That energy has been the stuff of family legend. It makes me sad to say that to her great grandchildren legend will be all that it is. Unfortunately the last few years have seen various parts of her body lose interest in operating as part of a team.

Macular degeneration robbed stole her ability to see bright colors and sunny days.Now she lives in a world of shadow, but I have never heard her complain about that. A few years ago her heart decided that it would refuse to operate at peak condition and that incredibly energy dissipated.

Her daughters and family did ok with those things. No one was happy about it, but it is life. And since grandma wasn't complaining about it we weren't going to either.

But the memory issues and the demential are a different story.

I watch my mother. I watch her reactions to her mother and I see. Most of the time mom is o.k. She is strong. She handles stress well, but there are moments. Those moments that we all feel, the ones in which it is one thing too many. I see the look on her face and wish that I could do more.

It is not easy. We have all been very lucky. Grandma just wasn't sick, not beyond the normal run of the mill stuff. She was just this powerhouse. This is one experience that I had before my mother. When my father had his heart attack I flew cross country not knowing whether he would still be alive when I landed.

I stood at his bedside when he was on a ventilator and watched the machines help keep him alive. I had to face the immediate questions of mortality right there. And I am so thankful that we rolled a seven.

It is not easy for anyone. But it is harder for a child.

I think that within the last three months there have been some dramatic changes with my grandmother. She never used to be nervous, but now she often is. She talks about dying with great regularity. I think she is preparing herself.

This isn't to say that I or anyone else is giving up. I remember a conversation I had with her cardiologist about her.

My parents were back east visiting my sister. Grandma didn't feel well. She got checked out and was admitted to the hospital. The docs gave me the usual medical speak with a strong emphasis that anything could happen. But the bottom line was that they didn't expect the discussion to still be going five years later.

So here we are now. Grandma surprised them all and may do so again. I wouldn't put it past her.

But on my mother's behalf I'll say that I am praying that the dementia doesn't get any worse. Mom will take whatever comes and she'll never give up on grandma. It just won't happen. But there is only so much that can be done and so I am hopeful that whatever comes is as easy as can be for her.

Music

2009-10-30T13:59:00.001-07:00

Download now or listen on posterous

2-14 The Night Is Still Young.m4a (5076 KB)

Download now or listen on posterous

05 _Knock the Cover Off the Ball_.m4p (2299 KB)

Download now or listen on posterous

08 A New Game.m4a (4253 KB)

Download now or listen on posterous

1-09 Hero Of The Day.m4a (4445 KB)

Download now or listen on posterous

2-03 Jackson.m4a (5569 KB)

Posted via email from thejackb's posterous

What Brings You Joy?

2009-10-29T16:07:00.000-07:00

It is a simple question that I like to ask every so often. What brings you joy? I look forward to reading your commments.

All of Us 'have' a genius.

2009-10-29T09:33:00.001-07:00

World's Largest Pyramid Discovered, Lost Mayan City Of Mirador Guatemala

2009-10-29T07:59:00.001-07:00

via youtube.com

Posted via web from thejackb's posterous

My Best Posts Are Often Heartwrenching

2009-10-29T00:10:00.000-07:00

Lately I find myself writing posts that are never published. The words make their way from my fingertips to the keyboard and then onto the screen, but no further. They appear as if by magic and disappear in the same fashion. I read them in silence and shake my head in disgust.

They are filled with tired phrases that are awkwardly connected to each other. If they were capable of dancing they'd step on your toes and leave your shins bruised. There is no magic, no spark, no energy and no imagination to them. They are plain. They are dull. They are useless.

I stop and stare at them and wonder why they are lifeless and limited. I see them and in my unhappiness I subject them to punishment inflicted by a big thumb on a delete button. Click, click, click and goodbye.

My best posts are not always elegant in their struture and execution. They don't always have the sort of eloquence that I would prefer them to have. But they have a certain something, an energy that people can relate to.

My best posts are often heartwrenching. I reach into the Jack files and dig out something painful and use that as inspiration. I take the things that hurt or shamed me and repurpose them. Sometimes I find remnants of the pain and I jump into those flames.

It is a useful tool, a resource that allows me to construct something better than without. It is not alway how I work.There are many posts that come from other places. Many that come from the Happy Jack home, but not always.

I suspect that if you were to record my facial expressions they would sometimes include a bright smile and twinkling eyes. But they most assuredly would sometimes include the opposite as well. Sometimes you'd see a tear roll down a cheek or a very sad look.

My best posts are raw. They are part of what keeps me going. Those posts provide the fuel for my blogging motor. Without them I suspect that I might have already quit.

Some Thoughts About Facebook

2009-10-28T15:24:00.001-07:00

40 Is Too Young to Die

2009-10-28T08:21:00.000-07:00

I feel a bit like I was punched in the gut. I logged onto Facebook and read about the death of an old friend. He wasn't someone that I was close to, but we grew up together and shared some good times. If you went through some old photo albums you'd find pictures of he and I.

Forty is too young to die. It is an age that we often hear used as a benchmark for getting older, but it is not old. It is not old by a long shot.

So I am sitting here staring at the keyboard, wondering. I don't know all of the details, but it wasn't an auto accident, a plane crash or any sort of thing like that. Those are tragedies but I find them easier to accept. Easier because you can look at them and say that they were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Terminal illnesses, sudden heart attacks and the like defy that sort of explanation, at least for me.

I stare at Facebook and see an entry about his untimely death. A bunch of comments from mutual friends of ours and shared memories. High school isn't a recent experience any more. Every day it grows more distant, but it is not so long ago that I can't remember.

His death marks the passing of old friends this year. Both were 40. Both were contemporaries of mine. Both taken far too early.

Sometimes people have tried to explain these losses to me as being part of a grand plan that I can't understand. I hate those explanations. It is completely unsatisfying and useless to me. Don't tell me that G-d's plan is beautiful and that my mortal mind is incapable of understanding it.

What I understand is that there are kids who are orphaned, husbands and wives who are widowed, siblings who are in pain and parents who are struggling to figure out how the natural order of life has gotten so mucked up.

If you ask if I am upset and angry, I will tell you yes. It bothers me for a host of reasons. But it is what it is. If you ask me why I fight to try and live a life in which I do the things that make me happy and fulfill me it is because of moments like this.

It is not eloquent, but shit happens. Whenever it is that I do die I want to feel like I did my best to live the life I want to live. I'll paraphrase my grandfather OBM, when death comes for me I am going to kick him in the balls, poke him in the eyes and throw his bony ass out the nearest window.

Grab your loved ones my friends and hold them tight 'cuz you just don't know what tomorrow brings.

What Are your Favorite Song Lyrics?

2009-10-27T15:00:00.000-07:00

I remember telling she who is the song of my heart about my love affair with music. I remember the hours we spent sharing, exploring and learning about new music with each other. I remember a million hours of music and the unadulterated joy we took in sharing it with each other.

Spend a few minutes sifting through the archives and you will find untold numbers of posts that are tied into music in one way or another.

A while back I asked you to share your favorite lyrics with me. I am here to do it again. What moves you? What makes you laugh or cry. Share it here with us.

Past posts that might be of interest:

Name a Song That Makes You Cry Part One
Name a Song That Makes You Cry Part Two

Battle of the Network Stars - Conrad vs. Kaplan

2009-10-27T13:59:00.001-07:00

via youtube.com

This is too funny.

Posted via web from thejackb's posterous

Battle of the Network Stars Part 1

2009-10-27T13:56:00.001-07:00

via youtube.com

My childhood rears its head again.

Posted via web from thejackb's posterous

The Bills Keep On Coming

2009-10-26T13:16:00.000-07:00

Sammy O extended his arms over his head and sighed aloud. It was another Monday morning, not even 9 am and he was already counting the minutes until he could leave the office and go somewhere else. It didn't really matter where, just somewhere else that wasn't here.

In a different time he would have left work and gone straight home. In a different time he would have smiled the whole way home, eagerly anticipating the warm greeting that he would receive from his family. The kids would have screamed in delight, "daddy's home" and his wife would have given him that smile that she saved for him alone.

He wouldn't have made it three feet before those giggling kids would be climbing all over him. They would rolled around on the floor in a big heap of laughter. And then he would have threatened to punch them all in the nose. The girls would squeal again with laughter and take off running and he would have chased them, all the while threatening to tickle them until they couldn't take it anymore.

Those were good days. Daddy was a monster, but a monster of the best sort. He was fun. He was loving. He was hopeful and excited about the possibilities.

But that was then and this is now. Now every day was a struggle. The job wasn't bad because it was a grind. It was bad because he didn't earn enough to pay all of his bills, not to mention that his supervisor bore a distinct resemblance in looks and skills to Bozo the Clown.

Good old Bozo, he remembered being a kid and watching the show. It had been fun then. But now it was just a symbol of his frustration and ineptitude. His Bozo liked to tell him how lucky he was to have a job and how many people didn't.

Every day he would go off on a rant about how grateful they should be for what they had. And every day Sammy O secretly rolled his eyes and wondered if there was a way to throw Bozo down the stairs. He didn't really want to hurt him, but he couldn't think of another way to get him to leave for a while. All he wanted were a few days alone, just some peace and quiet. But that wasn't likely to happen.

Bozo was on his third marriage and a dozen different prescriptions for various anxieties and ailments. But the job was his refuge and secret hiding place from the world. The job was his life so the chances of Bozo leaving for any length of time were about as good as the odds of the cleveland Browns winning the Superbowl.

Another big stretch followed the sigh. Sammy looked down at the piles of paper on his desk and stared off into space. They were a mixture of personal and professional matters that had to be dealt with A.S.A.P. The stack included three Post-It Notes from Bozo.

They were supposed to provide instructions for how to handle the projects that Bozo had assigned him. As usual the notes contradicted each other. Sammy O had long since learned not to bother mentioning that to Bozo. All it would do is piss him off and lead to a lecture about reading comprehension.

It made him angry to be subject to the whims of a crazy man. He knew that his tolerance for all things was low. If he earned enough to pay his bills it would be much easier to deal with Bozo and if he had wings he could fly.

Somewhere in the recesses of his mind he could hear a silent chant begin about not giving up, something about finding a way to adapt and overcome it all. He wanted to believe in it. He wanted to believe that there was a way to find daylight and to enjoy the sunshine again, but he didn't know how.

Bozo was right, it was better to work than not. But this wasn't going to get it done. So he sent out applications for other positions. He networked and prayed that somehow, some way something better would come through.

But it didn't.

And the days passed. The pile of bills grew higher and the hole he was in grew deeper. In the interim the Feds bailed out the banks. The same banks that had leveraged themselves into insolvency. The same banks that wouldn't loan him any money for his business or allow him to refinance his home.

Those banks had been bailed out almost immediately. And it had been done using his tax dollars. It was beyond absurd.

And through it all the banks grew strong again while Sammy O grew weaker. In a few months those banks would hand out millions of dollars in bonuses to the same executives whose bad decisions had created the conditions in which they failed.

Unless things changed soon those same executives would use Sammy O's hard earned tax dollars to go on five figure vacations while Sammy O and his family went on their own vacation. The difference was in the name. The executives would hit the exotic island of Jamaica while Sammy O and company would visit the mythical land of foreclosure.

It was the thought of the mythical land of foreclosure that made Sammy O not want to go home. He couldn't stand to look around his home and know that soon it would be gone. He couldn't begin to imagine having to tell the children that it wasn't their house any longer.

Their fairy tale was over and the nightmare was beginning, only this time they would be awake for it all.

Another Confession: The Physical

2009-10-26T00:40:00.000-07:00

I am writing this post from within the playroom. It doubles as an office. Most of the time it is a great place to work, except when the kids are home. Of course when they are home it is hard to work anywhere. Those little rascals have a way of finding me, no matter what I am doing. Not that I am complaining, it is nice to see their smiling faces.

The playroom serves as good motivation for me. If I find myself down or at all depressed I can change my mood simply by standing up. With one step to the left or right I can virtually guarantee that I will step on a toy. Doesn't matter whether the room has been cleaned or organized, I always manage to find the one toy that didn't make it back to where it belongs.

And as a bonus it always manages to inflict an inordinate amount of pain. Whatever it is, there is a guarantee that it will feel as if someone has taken a vice grip to tender parts of me.

Fun stuff, stepping on a toy. Even better when they break. Not only do I get to enjoy the physical pain, but I get a little mental action too. Woohoo.

I imagine that some of you are wondering if I am ever going to get to the confession. Well, keep your shirt on, I am almost there. The whole point of talking about the kids is to say that I often speak to them about why it is important to take care of themselves and how there is no reason to be afraid of the doctor.

Apparently I don't like to listen to my own advice because I haven't had a physical in 3.5 years. Yes, 3.5 years. It doesn't feel like it is that long and given that I was given a clean bill of health the last time I shouldn't worry.

Last time around the doc looked at me and said that if I dropped a few pounds and kept doing what I was doing it would be unlikely that I'd ever have to see him. Since then I have dropped those few pounds and because I like to be clean I picked them back up again.

For good measure I dropped them again and picked them up a few more times. I am not morbidly obese, not even close. But the rules of the blog dictate honesty and that requires an admission. I don't particularly like the way that I look.

The dude staring back at me looks like a 40 year-old man who has a mortgage and a few kids. Ok, I resemble that remark because it is an accurate description of me. I am all of those things.

But I don't feel like I should be. I am not old. I am barely out of school, really it is not 2009, it is 1999 and I am partying like it. The suits in the closet fit me, you know, the ones that I wore in college. And that tuxedo I bought because I went to all those formals, well it fits me too.

Sigh, I can't pull that off without drugs. None of those things fit me anymore, not the way that they should. Damn ego. Damn that fragile male ego, it irks me.

Just before I turned 40 people started making comments about the need to go see a doc because I am in the heart attack years now and didn't I know that my father had one. True, he did have a major heart attack. Of course he was 62 and never close to being in the kind of shape I am in now. I still have two grandparents, both 95.5 and a third who lived to just short of 92.

I think that the good genes outweigh the bad.

Of course none of that really matters because my not going is idiotic. Yes, I am an idiot. So you ask what am I waiting for. Why haven't I made an appointment yet. Would you believe that I am waiting for my good friend Godot to join me.

As soon as shows up I will be happy to accompany him. We can do this together.

Ok, that is dumb. I don't have an answer. I don't have an excuse other than I just haven't done it.

One more silly confession before I go. Sometimes I think that I am going to die young and other times I am convinced that I am going to outlive everyone. More often than not I expect that I will, outlive everyone that is.

G-d has a sense of humor and he likes to play with me. It would be in line with all of the other stuff to let me hang around long enough to see everyone come and go.

Or maybe not.