Jumbled Random History Death

There always seems to be a topic for a good story floating around in my head. But just as that idea starts to develop, another one pops up. Eventually my head is full of lead sentences that never amount to more than brain clog that slows down the whole system. Somehow I need to defrag the file structure in my head because the disk space seems a little screwed up. We could talk about exercise, diet, smoking, sex, stress and other imbalances that may be occurring or I could just do a brain-dump rough draft all over this page.

First, a good friend of our family has just died. It's all so quite sad and tragic as she was young and had plenty yet to offer this world. I try to focus on the meaning of this whole situation but just end up numb. I doubt numb is one of the the typical stages of grief and maybe it comes under the category of denial but I don't think that is the case here. I'm fine with the short answers like "life's not always fair" and "God has his plan" but am still left with some sort of vagary about the whole situation. I feel bad for feeling this way but this is where I am.

Second, I had a decent conversation about racism with a 55 year-old black southerner today. He was sharing his perspective of segregated high-schools back in the day and I was talking about the Freedom Riders of 1961. I knew he couldn't answer my questions but I wanted him to know that I was starting to understand his pain. Ultimately I was questioning the absurdity of the human condition which causes people to beat the shit out of others just for the color of their skin. What is that? I could almost understand a major social mistake in core beliefs which could temporarily justify slavery. But after a war, some law changes and 100 years of thinking, you would think we knew right from wrong.

Third, I forgot.

Fourth, I also forgot.

Not to mention Golf School is cheaper than Ski School.

Retro Active Resolutions

I like to think that I am in a state of constant self-improvement. Always analyzing and reinventing my moral code and attitudes. However the truth is that I tend to vacillate between being a hyper-active improvement manic and a down-right lazy TV-watching sloth. Perhaps this has a lot to do with how busy, frustrated and exhausted I can get from working full-time. For now I could just care less about the root cause and would rather work around whatever it is that makes me this way. That is why I have invented the retro-active resolution program. I decide, as I go along, what my resolution for the year will be.

Fortunately work is slow right now and I am undergoing and upswing in energy and motivation. Therefore this year's resolutions will revolve around getting the house fixed up, getting organized and keeping my act more together. So far this year I have removed and sold our backyard batting cage via Craig's List. Sold the "Beermeister" and transformed our old play fort into a swing/deck combo made for two. Some of these changes have a great deal of meaning in terms of new life chapters but we can touch on that later. Right now I have to empty the dishwasher, get the 3rd load into the dryer, the second load into the dishwasher, mop, go to the recycle place, do the food shopping, check on my friends cats and then lunch.

The elusive pileated woodpecker.

Chased him around the yard with a camera all weekend. This is as close as I could get. Click the picture to see a little closer.

The Bridge

Unique suspension bridge in Greenville, SC. Cables and supports only used on one side. Great downtown for shopping and eating too. A must see for my Atlanta friends.

http://www.fallspark.com/liberty_bridge.asp

With this ring..........

My wedding ring has always been a little too big for me. You can read that any way you wish but as far as I'm concerned there is no metaphor here. Thankfully I don't ever recall hearing any lore relating to wedding rings. Break a mirror or step on a crack , that's trouble. But fortunately for me, losing my wedding ring in the back yard has no meaning. At least no symbolic meaning anyway. All it means (I hope) is that my fingers shrink when it's cold outside and I'm somewhat of a careless person. It also means I get to hear a counter-story every time I talk about the demise of my ring.


One guy claims his ring has always been too tight and in 20 years of marriage it hasn't been off his finger for more than 5 minutes. Another related that he nearly lost his ring two months after the wedding while he was on a "business" trip which involved alcohol and the ocean. A guy I used to work with complained that his ring trapped dirt and made his skin rot like athlete's foot. And yet another had his finger removed by a machine and claims it was his ring that saved his whole arm being taken into the crushing gears.


Fortunately for all us guys, the ring is already an official marriage symbol and you just can't add any symbolism on top of it. However, ask me what happened to the photo album from the wedding and you might have a story.

The Best Thanksgiving

There is no doubt in my mind that this Thanksgiving was the best one I've had this year. I'm not just saying that to suck up to family readers either. I truly mean what I say. Ask anyone who knows me, I'm always sincere and honest without a hint of wise-assedness. This was the best Thanksgiving this year for so many reasons that I find it hard to pick just one to write about. All that warm-fuzzy nostalgic made-for-TV movie stuff just sends my head a spinning . Therefore, instead of giving you the melodramatic version, I will simply narrow it down to a few highlights.

BEST TWO-HOUR LONG VERSION OF TWISTED SISTER'S "WE'RE NOT GOING TO TAKE IT" PLAYED IN THE CAR ON PORTABLE KEYBOARD:
~Nick

BEST COMBINATION OF TURKEY, PERUVIAN FOOD AND ALCOHOL:
~Aunt Denise


BEST TOUR OF UPTOWN CHARLOTTE:
~Aunt Desnie/Uncle Manuel


BEST MOVE THEATRE EXPERIENCE:
~Charlotte IMAX


BEST COMBINED USE OF PAPRIKA, SINUS MEDICATION AND CHAMPAGNE RESULTING IN HYSTERICAL LAUGHTER:
~Aunt Denise


BEST COFFEE STAIN THAT APPEARS IN THE MOST FAMILY PICTURES:
~Me


BEST FOOTBALL GAME:
~None


BEST PHOTOGRAPHY EXHIBIT:
~Grandpa Larry


BEST ONE-HOUR LONG VERSION OF TWISTED SISTER'S "WE'RE NOT GOING TO TAKE IT" PLAYED ON THE PORCH AFTER THANKSGIVING DINNER ON PORTABLE KEYBOARD:
~Nick


BEST DRINKS FOR HOMELESS PEOPLE:
~Starbucks Coffee in Charlotte


BEST DRESSED HOMELESS PERSON:
~Altanta, GA Man in Marist High School Swim Team Jacket

BEST SCRABBLE PLAYER:
~Grandma Clara


BEST PERSON TO HAVE IN THE CAR WITH YOU:
~Michele


BEST MULTI-COURSE BIRTHDAY MEAL:
~Grandma Clara


BEST ONE AND A HALF-HOUR LONG VERSION OF TWISTED SISTER'S "WE'RE NOT GOING TO TAKE IT" PLAYED ON GRANDMA'S PIANO:
~Nick

BEST IMPERSONATION OF A CHRISTMAS ANGEL:
~Michele

BEST EXAMPLE OF DETACHABLE SHOULDERS:
~Grandpa Larry

BEST EMERGECNY ROOM:
~Presbyterian Hospital, Matthews, NC

BEST CHOICE FOR CROWDED OUTLET SHOPPING IN THE RAIN:
~Gaffney, SC

BEST USE OF SOUTHERN WORDS BY CRACKER BARREL EMPLOYEE:
~"Do you want me to get yallz's check now?"

BEST REASONS TO COME HOME:
~To hear Pokey + Louis bark all night.

~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ ~ My Secret Park ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I can't tell you where this is because I hate crowds.

Haunting Chernobyl Photo Essays

Two great photo essays on Chernobyl disaster area. Read them both and see if you get those feelings Mark describes in his "Final Thoughts."

The thought of writing about those feelings and the humanity of it all is just so overwhelming. I think I will just stay here under my rock for a while.

http://kiddofspeed.com/default.htm


http://www.chernobylee.com/articles/chernobyl/my-journey-to-chernobyl-1.php

Note the little gas mask on the window sill.

Do you have friends like this?

There is a tree in my yard that I hate. And maybe hate is a strong word to use against a tree, but every so often you come across one that really makes life difficult. Whether it’s at home, at work or even at church, it just becomes almost unbearable to deal with on a daily basis.

When we first moved to this house, we both contributed equally to our relationship. The tree sat there in my front yard doing normal tree things. Growing, photosynthesizing, hosting birds, flowering and whatever else trees do in their spare time. As the proud new homeowner, I did my time as tree owner. I raked leaves, picked up sticks, pruned the dead wood and even gave it some nice Christmas lights. As time went by however, things started to change.

Normally I’m a very tolerant person, but eventually those tree behaviors started to rub me the wrong way. For starters the tree won’t stop growing. It grew itself into a magnolia tree and is now entirely too big for the yard. In fact, I’ve had several visitors report that they almost missed the house because it’s hidden behind the tree. The shade has all but killed the lawn and those damn branches hang so low that if they’re not poking me in the eye then they’re scratching the top of my car. And I’m not just talking about normal external growth here either. The stories I have to tell about where sewage goes when it’s blocked by tree roots could be a whole new essay. Let me just say that I’m the president of the “sewer-snake” rental club.

This may sound a bit strange but I’ve spent quite some time analyzing this relationship. At one point I attempted fighting back against the tree’s natural tendencies. So I rented a chain saw and battled a few carefully picked lower limbs. Wielding this power tool actually made me feel good for a while. So good in fact, that I even considered chopping the whole thing down. Certainly this was an easy solution. Remove the offender forever. More work on the front end but certainly there would be rewards. Firewood, a new lawn, no more raking or cleaning the gutters, no more pokes in the eye and best of all, no more sewage where it didn’t belong. And while this seemed like a good plan at first, something was holding me back but I couldn’t quite tell what it was.

So I prayed for some guidance to find out if there was something wrong with my attitude. Maybe this tree suffered some childhood trauma like being an adult sapling of a late-bloomer and never learned proper social boundaries. Maybe it’s not my position to judge whether adult maple trees should cohabitate with magnolias. Or maybe I would be found guilty of tree-murder and the Sierra Club would have me arrested. But eventually however my eyes were opened and the truth was revealed.

There is ultimately one very redeeming quality about this tree that makes it worth keeping in my life. Granted, I have to wait patiently and the redemptive moment is always short-lived, but I’m never disappointed when the moment comes. Each and every fall my “friend” puts on the most spectacular and glorious display of foliage. The light greens, mixed with bright yellows and deep oranges would make you think you were staring at a picture postcard of Vermont. And eventually the entire show turns day-glow orange as the sun backlights the whole scene. Then the leaves fall and completely blanket the front yard in orange carpet. This is the day I love the tree in my yard.

----------------> Roger and Mary <----------------

my grandfather visited today
my Nana’s late husband
but he was early to his scheduled pick up

by almost 24 hours
he was driving a truck instead of owning a gas station
and he was black and alive not white and dead
though I still think it was him

in fact, I know it was him
I could tell by the way he laughed

when I called him Pappy

~ ~ ~ Stone Mountain, GA ~ ~ ~

Wicked, Pissa' Awesome!

Halloween Weekend in Atlanta is supposed to be about the Georgia v. Florida game. Looks like we made the right choice by going to the Fox Theatre. What an incredible show, from concept to completion "Wicked" is just pissa' awesome all the way through. I haven't been this impressed since I saw the Cirque du Soleil. Go see it already.

(But remember to use your parking ticket!)

Proud to be a North American

Just in time to vote!

Not only is he the husband of my favorite sister in law, he is also the country's newest citizen!

Congratulations

Manuel.

the last firefly

late this summer

when the sun was not so high
the year’s last firefly

flew down from the sky

he landed on my nose

close to my eye
so close i could see

he was starting to cry

my oh my!

why do you cry

I asked the fly

because, he said with a sigh,

summer is over
and I must say goodbye

try to stay dry

my bright little fly,
please tell me why

must you say goodbye

i will tell you he said

and I won't even lie

summer is over and

I must just say goodbye

if you stay, we can play

I will teach you to spy

and maybe my mom

will give you some pie

I would love to he said

but please don't try

summer is over

I simply must just say goodbye

then he flapped his wings

and started to fly

and away he went

high into the sky

GOODBYE

FIREFLY

please don't cry
I'll see you next summer

and we shall eat pie

RUNNING

As I walk down my street I notice the smell of pizza. I think maybe someone is cooking with garlic somewhere. Yet the smell lingers all the way down to the corner and hangs in the air like some distant memory from childhood. I am reminded of the beach for some reason. With the smells of fried food and ocean salt and suntan lotion. Certainly there’s a sunset that belongs in this scene as well. The kind that post cards are made of, but the though vanishes quickly as I my eyes study an interesting pile of trash that one of the neighbors has left. Broken shelves, old pictures, VHS tapes and twisted metal things. Normally I would stop and take a closer look but today’s journey is exercise.

By the time I get to the corner I decide I am ready to start running. My knees hurt. I stop and walk again. My head is cloudy but I run some more. My head seems loose as it bounces with each thumping stride. The whole street bounces in my vision like a bad home movie. My knees still hurt so I stop and stretch them a bit. I notice I haven’t gone very far at this point.

I walk past the house where the mailbox says Rosie and Ken. Then past the house that used to have a nice garden where some recent sewer-line work has been done. Feeling a little better about my knees I run past the next corner and straight down Spivey lane about ¼ mile. I am breathing hard now and slow to a walk again. Despite the lack of breath I am still not sweating. I walk past the Robinson’s house. Glad that they’re not outside, I break into a run again.

I turn right into the new development. The street has been newly paved and one house is almost finished. The other lots are still just weeds with construction signs stuck into the ground near the curb. Quite boring I think to myself as I walk up the hill to the end of the street. Fortunately the street is short and I turn around in the cul-de-sac and run back down to the main street.

I walk some more, half-heartedly waving to neighborhood cars that pass by. Forcing out a “hello” to the other walkers. I press on with the running and listen to my body ache. I slow to a walk again and look at trash and gardens or whatever catches my eye. I set goals, 5 mailboxes running, and then walk again. Run to the corner and walk again. I see a man with a green lawnmower. Must be a “Lawn-Boy” model I guess from my distance. As I get closer the noise confirms my suspicion, Lawn-Boy 21” same model as mine. The smell of the cut grass and the engine fumes remind me of my own yard as well. I walk past his house and break into a run again. My head seems less cloudy now; the road not so bouncy and my knees feel good enough to keep going the whole length of his street.

How is it I wonder, that I’ve come to know this man’s lawnmower better than the man himself?

Daylight Savings

sunlight during the fall deceives me
blinding me from such angles
where evil dark shadows try to entice me
into false warmth where there is no love

illuminated foliage tempts me
to keep the splendor for myself
yet this glory is a false prophet
rewarded with the empty message
of winter’s frigid death-grip
and the only truth I have left is the resurrection of spring-time

WRITER'S WRITE

Every since I was 15, I have been told that I should be a writer. Why these people keep telling me this I'm am not too sure. Some describe me as funny, others as weird. Sure, I like word games, scrabble, poetry and short stories. I even launched a career by avoiding math. Ultimately though, the older I get, the more the math makes sense and the writing becomes harder. Maybe that's just because math is functional, quick and perfect. Fast food for our instant society. Writing takes time. Time I don't have. As much as I'd like to ditch the busy city life, buy some flannel shirts and move to Vermont, it's just not practical. Not now anyway, maybe later.

In the meantime, I will write and you will read. I'm not even sure who "you" are as I currently have no audience in mind here. I don't have a voice or a style yet for that matter. Nonetheless, I thank you for sitting through the mandatory rough draft opening entry.