From Out of Left Field

#117 - Bad Day at Black Rock

2012-02-07T21:34:00.000-07:00

Today, I still have a job. At least nine people I know or deal with from time to time do not. There may be others who have not yet been able to say anything.

Today, the company I work issued a statement announcing hundreds of people will be let go "in order to help us be more competitive." Although I suspect this has been in the planning stages for some time, the execution (somehow an apropos word) seems to better resemble a Chinese fire drill or the final stages of a going out of business sale. (Everything must go! No reasonable offer refused.)

I say that because the announcement was made today, those affected were told today, and the each of them will be out of a job February 29. Not much time to polish up the ole resume or begin cold-calling to find another position. Thank you for your dedication and years of service. Don't let the door hit you in the you-know-where on your way out.

People at my job level were told their positions are safe. In this day and age, when neither companies nor employees need feel any loyalty to the other, I'm not exactly sure what "safe" means. I guess today, it means I still have a job. Tomorrow, who knows?

This is at least the third reduction in force I've experienced in the last three and a half years with this company. I suspect it won't be the last. The first time, I was directly affected, as my position was outsourced overseas. The other times, I knew people affected. Next time, maybe it will be my turn again.

You know what, though? While I am angry about the events that unfolded today, I am not worried about what tomorrow will bring. The sun will rise (even if I don't see it behind the clouds) and life will go on. A wise man (and former co-worker) once told me "I work to live. I don't live to work." I hope one day to achieve that level of wisdom. In the meantime, however, I won't sweat it. Worrying doesn't do any good anyway.

#116 - 2012: Thoughts on the Year Ahead

2012-01-02T14:46:00.001-07:00

When I was younger, I had this tradition (or superstition, if you will) of making ten New Year's resolutions every New Year's Eve. Not nine, not 11, but ten. (I suppose I have to accept that my son gets some of his OCD tendencies from me.) Every year, I had a perfect record. Each year, I would make ten resolutions, and each year, I would break ten resolutions.

As I got older, I began to realize that making and breaking ten resolutions, while consistent, was not likely to lead to any kind of success I could build upon. (I am, you might say, a slow learner.) So I pared the list down. Some years, I'd make five resolutions, some years two or three. I think there were even a few years when I made no resolutions of any kind. Regardless of the number, I remained consistent, not keeping a single one.

This year, I've decided to try yet again. (I did say I was a slow learner.) I've decided to make one single resolution. My resolution for 2012 is to be better to myself. Vague, I know (something my wife was quick to point out), which is part of the point. Because it is such a broad resolution, I have a pretty decent chance of keeping it at some level.

But what exactly do I mean by resolving to be better to myself? Any number of things, really. At one level, I mean this to say I will be kinder to myself and not beat myself up of silly mistakes or over things I didn't or haven't done or things I did but perhaps shouldn't have. I have a tendency to be hard on myself when I screw up. My resolution is not intended to let me slide when I make a mistake but to not allow myself to dwell on it or wallow in self-pity.

At another level, being better to myself means being better to my body. One of the things I want to do in 2012 is cut down on my consumption of processed foods. This is somewhat easier said than done, I know, but I can make a decent effort simply by cutting out foods that come in a box, such as Hamburger Helper (or any of its Helper cousins), Rice-a-Roni, and other such box meals.

Since early retirement is not a likely option (Teresa won't go for it, for one thing), I need to do what I can so that I can enjoy retirement when it comes. That means lowering my blood pressure, reducing cholesterol, dropping some weight, and so on. Reducing my intake of processed foods can only help in this regard.

Being better to myself also means enjoying the things I have, enjoying the people around me, and not worrying or thinking so much about what I don't have or can't do. It also means not comparing myself to others, something I don't do much anyway but don't need to do at all.

Finally, I suppose being better to myself also means enjoying each day to the best of my ability and not worrying so much about what other people think about whether I am enjoying life or doing the right thing, etc. In other words, even as I make attempts to change certain aspects of myself and my life, I also need to accept and appreciate who I am.

So, yes, my single resolution to be better to myself in 2012 is a broad one, with numerous possibilities. If I can fulfill even one of those possibilities, then 2012 will be a successful year. Here's hoping your 2012 is also a success, however you define it.

#115 - 2011: The Roller Coaster Ride That Was

2011-12-31T18:37:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting here with Teresa, reading a Christmas letter from some old friends now living in Maine, getting ready to watch Teresa's alma mater, Auburn, play Virginia in the Chick-Fil-A Bowl, and preparing to ring out 2011. Good riddance, I say.

The first half of the year was uneventful enough. We managed to get out several times in the fifth-wheel, and Christopher successful navigated through his final year of junior high. Then he and Teresa made a trip to see her family in Alabama. When they got back, she got sick.

In July, we got a look at a 2007 Alpenlite Voyager fifth-wheel. We weren't looking to upgrade at that point, but the layout was much closer to what we thought would be ideal for us, and the price is right, so we decided to pull the trigger. We also managed to sell our old fifth-wheel in a week. That was, perhaps, the highlight of 2011 for us.

Then came September. I guess they don't call it fall for nothing. Christopher got off to a successful start in high school. Teresa got laid off from her job, then got un-laid off.

We decided to take the new fifth-wheel out for a four-day trip to Anderson Ranch Reservoir. Bad idea. After it was all said and done, the damage was close to $17,000, and we were out-of-pocket close to $3,000.

October had more in store for us. The following week, Teresa began a new job with St. Luke's Health. Hopefully, it will prove to be a rewarding move for her in the long run.

November brought Christopher's turn on the roller coaster. He developed an abscess on his upper leg. Right before Christmas, he developed another one, and we were told it was MRSA. Heck of a way to end the year. It felt as if we crammed a year's worth of events into the final three months of the year.

Still, it was a pretty good year. Teresa got into a job situation that should be very good for her. We qualified for some support services for Christopher, and we managed to get out a number of times in the fifth-wheel, something we truly enjoy doing.

Despite the adversity of the last three months of the year, we are blessed. We both have jobs, we live in a very scenic part of the country, and we have opportunities to get out and enjoy that scenery. All in all, life is pretty good. I hope life was good to each of you in 2011 and continues to be good to you in 2012. Happy new year!

#114 - Christmas Wishes and Gifts (of a sort)

2011-12-21T23:16:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking about this post off and on for a few days now, thinking about what I wanted to say and about how I wanted to say it. Before I say any of that, though, let me first wish everyone a Merry Christmas, no matter how you mark, celebrate, or otherwise pass the day.

Now, on to the Christmas wishes and gifts. Hopefully you won't be too offended to make your way to the end of this post.

First, to the members of Congress, I give a collective lump of coal for turning their backs on and shirking their responsibility to the majority of Americans in this country. Echoes of the actions of this Congress can be found in the so-called "Do-Nothing Congress" of the 1940s under President Harry S. Truman.

Neither the Democrats nor the Republicans has led on any issue. Instead, both sides have acted like spoiled children who threaten to either hold their breath until they turn blue or take their ball and go home. I've never been an advocate for term limits because I believe there is value in a life spent in public service. This Congress has me reconsidering.

Next, to President Obama, I would give - if it were in my power - a backbone. He took office saying he would look to work with the other side of the aisle, something I took to indicate a willingness to compromise. There is a big difference between compromise and capitulation.

I believe the President has given much more ground to the Republicans in Congress than he has gained on numerous issues. I also don't believe the actions of Obama the President match the views espoused by Obama the candidate.

For practitioners of various faiths, I would give - if I could - greater understanding of one another. I believe it is only through understanding that we can achieve peace, one of the sentiments underlying the season, at least as evidenced in many of the Christmas cards that make their way through the mail this time of year.

Finally, for my friends and family, I wish improved and/or increased prosperity in 2012. I am not really speaking in financial terms, although I would be glad to see that for each of you as well. Instead, what I wish for you is richness of mind and of spirit and of faith, regardless of what it is you believe. My own faith journey has been filled with stops and starts over the years but has finally brought me to a place where I believe to be true what is stated in this ancient Japanese saying:

"There are many paths up the mountain, but the view of the moon from the top is the same."

May each of you have a joyous Christmas, filled with love and laughter and peace.

#113 - The Worst Day of the Year?

2011-11-24T19:16:00.001-07:00

Now that the Thanksgiving feasting is over and tables have been cleared and food put away all over the country, we can allow our thoughts to turn to . . . shopping???

Yes, even before we finish digesting our meals it is time to turn our attention to Christmas shopping. Thanksgiving is not even over, and the Christmas advertising has begun in full force.

I've been inundated with e-mails from traditional and online retailers alike over the last several days. It's enough to make me want to say "Enough."

Regardless of where you stand on the religious and spiritual significance of Christmas, it doesn't seem too much to ask for a slight break between Thanksgiving and the start of the Christmas shopping season. At the very least, I don't think it is too much to ask that stores wait until the day after Thanksgiving before they launch their sales assaults.

Instead, we have stores opening at 10 p.m. or midnight on Thanksgiving, assuming they closed at all. (Wal-Mart's deals begin at 10 p.m. Thanksgiving night. I'll let you reach your own conclusions as to what that says about how they feel about their employees.) We barely have time to reflect on the things we are thankful for before we begin thinking about the deals we hope to snag and be thankful for.

From a time to remember and celebrate the birth of Christ (for those who are Christians) or even a time to remember and celebrate being with family (as was probably more the case in my family growing up), Christmas has become the primary profit-making season for retailers and the time of year when many of us show the worst aspects of what it is to be human.

Greed and selfishness have replaced giving, compassion, and good will as the bywords of Christmas. Christmas shopping itself has become a competition. We fight each other to grab the last doodad or whatchamacallit that next year neither we nor the recipients will recall. I personally don't think any thing is worth that much trouble.

While some will get up at midnight or four a.m. to try and save some money (but at what other cost), assuming they go to bed at all, I will be sleeping snug in my bed (without the visions of sugar plums in my head).

I am content to let others run the retail gauntlet. They are welcome to endure the bumping and bruising from other shoppers. Let them experience the disappointment of finding that the store has sold out of the item they got up early to get. I don't mind missing those deals. After all, there will be others.

#112 - Giving Thanks

2011-11-23T21:43:00.001-07:00

In a blog post on the eve of Thanksgiving, Neale Donald Walsch, author of the Conversations With God series of books (among others), made the unique and I thought inspired suggestion to abolish Thanksgiving as a holiday and instead make it a holy day.

While that in and of itself was enough to make me take notice, what I found unique and inspiring was a suggestion he made later in his post with regard to how Thanksgiving is celebrated:

Forget about sitting down to a big meal and offering thanks to God for all the bounty that has been received during the past year. Instead, create a new ritual. Sit down together and thank God for all the goodness that is to come.

He believes we should discuss those things in the coming year for which we are going to be thankful. In other words, looking ahead rather than looking back. As he has stated in Conversations With God:

. . . the message about gratitude is clear. It is the most powerful form of prayer. Gratitude in advance, not gratitude after the fact. This is because to thank God in advance for something is the highest form of faith. It is a statement of supreme confidence. It is the Ultimate Knowing.

Walsch goes so far as to suggest making a list and writing down all that you choose to have happen between Thanksgiving 2011 and Thanksgiving 2012 and then reading it aloud at dinner. He says doing so will give Thanksgiving a new meaning:

It will now be about Sharing and Declaring. It will be about Knowing and Growing. We grow into what we know.

I'm certainly willing to give it a try. So here is my list:

I will be thankful for all of the opportunities I have in the coming year to spend time RVing and reconnecting with nature. Spending five weeks without our truck and still being without our trailer makes me realize just how precious those moments are.
I will be thankful for the love and patience of my wife, Teresa. She has been and continues to be my anchor (a term I use in a good way), helping me to stay grounded and giving me someone to laugh and cry with.
I will be thankful for all of my Facebook friends, people from my past and present, as well as those I have yet to meet. They help to bring to life memories of the places I've been as well as the places I still hope to see.
I will be thankful for new challenges and new opportunities to grow. The last few years have been some of the best of my life in terms of growing and learning to better accept myself. I suspect the coming year will bring more of the same.
I will be thankful (or at least strive to be thankful) for the challenges of dealing with a teenage autistic son. It now looks like we may have a little help with that, which I think will make life less stressful and more enjoyable for all of us.

I'm not sure those are in the format Walsch is suggesting, but hopefully they will be seen as being in the proper spirit.

Walsch concludes his blog post by suggesting that Thanksgiving should be the holiest day of the year

. . . because gratitude is the most sacred tool in the Creator’s Toolbox. With it anything can be produced, anything can be created, anything can be experienced!

I am not a Biblical scholar or a theologian, but I suspect he may be on to something. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. Be thankful. I am.

#111 - Thoughts on Halloween

2011-10-31T15:35:00.003-06:00

I'll admit it, I'm not much of a fan of Halloween. It's not just the fact that my son begins talking about Halloween in August, although that probably plays a part.

It's not that you see and receive types of candy you wouldn't see or receive any other time of the year, although that also may play a part. I'm sorry, but candy corn and those multi-colored toffee-like chews wrapped in black (usually) waxed paper are not my idea of a tasty treat. (Now if someone had figured out how to put bite-sized cheesecake candy in my bag, they would have been onto something.)

It's also not that I got trick-or-treated out when I was young. Fact is, I remember going out to trick-or-treat twice in my life - once at age 11 and the next and last time at age 12. That second experience turned me off to the entire trick-or-treating thing once and for all.

When I was 12, my mother decided I should make some sort of statement with my costume. (What that statement was meant to be, I have no idea.) Being a family on welfare, however, precluded renting or buying a statement-making costume. So my mother decided she would make my costume.

She (or maybe we, I don't recall) decided I should dress as Cousin Itt from the Addams Family. You might think such a costume would consist of a series of blond wigs somehow stitched together, perhaps some sunglasses, and a bowler or Derby hat. You'd be right about the hat and the glasses.

In those days, we lived in a rental house located in a mostly industrial area. Our nearest neighbors were a gas station and a warehouse. On the opposite of the road from us was a huge drainage ditch in which grew what we called cattails, known in Britain as bulrush and given the scientific/biological name of typha.

My mother came up with the idea of making the bulk of my costume using the plants. (Pay attention to the word bulk; I'll be coming back to it.) Those of you into crafting or with strong imaginations might be thinking "what a novel idea." You didn't have to wear the thing.

I will admit that the finished product did bear some resemblance to the character I was meant to look like. I will also admit I felt somewhat like Cousin Itt, or least I felt like I was carrying Cousin Itt piggyback.

You see, that costume seemed to weigh 30 or 40 pounds. Maybe more. After a few houses, I felt like I was stuck inside a bamboo sauna. The thing was bulky and suffocating. My mother forgot to put sufficient air holes in the costume to allow for ventilation, hydration, or breathing.

I think I lasted four houses before I took the costume off, after which, my treat intake declined and my feeling I had been tricked increased. After that night, I never had the desire to trick-or-treat again. Perhaps that was my mother's goal. She had a twisted sense about her, and since we couldn't afford dental care, perhaps she thought that was the best way to turn me off of candy. Since that night, I've also had no desire to dress up for Halloween, although I did so once as an adult. Sadly, no one understood the costume.

These days, I am content to hand out candy to those for whom trick-or-treating is a more pleasant experience. I especially enjoy handing candy out to the younger children (say seven and under) for whom trick-or-treating is a chance to escape to another world and not simply an easy way to a sugar rush (as it seems to be for the teenagers who come to our door, judging from the lack of thought put into their costumes).

For the youngest of them, trick-or-treating is still a magical event, a chance to discover and marvel at untold treasures of all shapes and flavors. They are the ones for whom Halloween is truly meant. Me, I started too late. Thankfully, they did not. Happy Halloween and safe trick-or-treating everyone!

#110 - A Month to Forget

2011-10-28T17:05:00.003-06:00

October has been a month to forget. My hope is that November will have enough going for it that I can do so.

The month started with me looking forward to two days off. The plan was to take the truck and fifth-wheel up to Anderson Ranch Reservoir, a place I had spent a nice weekend the year before.

This year was going to be a little different. Teresa and Christopher were staying in Idaho this year, so Christopher was going to come with Oliver and me, and Teresa was going to join us after finishing her last day of work with Supervalu on that Friday. That is what was supposed to happen, anyway.

What actually happened was a $16,000 nightmare. I got up to the reservoir mid-morning as planned in order to get a good spot before all the hunters arrived. Unfortunately, I was not able to judge how solid the ground was and managed to get truck and trailer stuck. So far, we're only talking inconvenience and embarrassment.

Then the first towing company arrived. I figured they knew what they were doing; after all, they told me several times they had gotten rigs out of the same predicament in roughly the same area. I suppose I should have begun to be concerned when I saw they had to piece together several smaller chains and cables in order to make something long enough to reach the truck. But, not having a lot of experience with being towed, I thought nothing of it.

A little later, when one of the chains snapped, I began to get a little concerned, but I still didn't think too much about it. Then, their big flatbed tow truck got stuck, but I still wasn't hearing the warning signals.

When they were unable to pull me out from behind (the preferred method since it was a straight shot), they decided to dig some more, set their trucks at a 90-degree angle to the front of my truck, hook up there and try to turn the truck and rig and pull them out that way. At this point, if I had not still been in shock over what had happened to lead to all of this, I might have had enough sense and awareness to just say No. The fact that the lead man had "25 years of experience" led me to trust his judgment.

When he said he was sure they could get the truck and trailer out with "minimal damage," I should have picked up on the use of the word "damage," but I didn't. After the fact, all I can conclude is that the term "minimal damage" has a different meaning in the world of towing than it does in my household.

After six hours of trying and failing to free truck and trailer (not counting the hour spent freeing their own truck), the tow company and I agreed we should stop. That was about two hours or so too late.

The tow company cut me a "break" on the tow bill $925 instead of the $1,860 they said it should have been. That's because the truck and trailer were probably stuck worse than when they started work. Not to mention the damage, most of which I had little clue about until last week.

Christopher, Oliver and I sat in the dark for two and a half more hours until Teresa could come get us and bring us home. Two days later, Teresa and I rented a truck and went back up to claim some belongings out of the trailer. Several hundred more dollars spent on the weekend that never was.

Nine days after getting stuck, a second company went up to try their luck. they had plenty to say about the first company's efforts, none of it good. But they did manage to get truck and trailer out after about three hours (digging and winching combined). Then both were off to repair facilities.

The estimate on the truck came in first: rear bumper - bent and needs replacing, left fender - needs replacing, running board along driver's side - bent and needs replacing, passenger side of truck sidewall - bent but repairable, fifth-wheel hitch and rails - bent and need replacing, various scratches - need sanding and repainting. Total cost with labor: $7,300. Earliest estimated date of completion: November 9. Early indications from the repair facility are that the insurance company may pay for the repairs.

Details on the trailer are a bit more sketchy. The estimated damage comes to $9,100. The door to the battery compartment was damaged and needs to be replaced, and there is a dent on the left front corner of the trailer. I also imagine there was some damage done underneath, although I do not have specifics.

Complicating things is the fact the Western Recreational Vehicles, Inc., manufacturer of our fifth-wheel, closed its doors in April, 2008. As a result, replacement parts have to be fabricated since they are no longer available. That also means repainting the entire rig, I gather, since they cannot repair, replicate, or replace the original decals and finish on the trailer.

That claim was submitted to the insurance company this week, so I don't know yet where we stand. Suffice to say, I have felt for most of this month as if I were standing waist-deep in mud, able to wave my arms frantically, yell and scream and cry, but not able to move or do anything about this predicament.

In a sense, I guess Halloween came early for me, but instead of a treat I got one hell of a trick played on me. If the claims are paid and we get the truck and trailer back in usable condition in November, I'll have something to be thankful for. Here's hoping.

#109 - A Look Back

2011-09-30T22:47:00.000-06:00

Now that September has drawn to a close, I have a moment to step back and take a breath. This has been a busy month in a lot of ways.

On the plus side, we managed to get out twice with our trailer in September, once over Labor Day weekend and once more a couple of weekends later. For most people, Labor Day brings an end to the camping/RV season, but I think we still have a lot of outings to squeeze in between now and the end of the year. We have one outing planned and have talked about at least two more, so I think we'll be getting out some more as long as our schedules and work allow.

Speaking of work, September was very busy and also brought a few surprises. I had a lot of changes to make, which I got in thanks to an 11-day stretch after returning from my holiday weekend. Then, of course, there were changes to the changes, a number of them last minute.

Teresa, though, was responsible for the biggest change of all. For some time, she's been concerned about the future of her position, but she's been prepared to ride it out to the end. But then a co-worker told her that one of the local hospitals might be looking for someone with her experience.

She talked to them, they rewrote the position a bit to better fit her skills, and the job was hers. Okay, maybe it wasn't as easy as that. The money is a little less, and there may be occasional challenges in caring for our son in the afternoons (her current position offers some flexibility to work from home), but we're convinced we can make it work.

In addition, the new position offers Teresa some new challenges and opportunities for growth that she's looking forward to. Plus, we've gotten some new leads on some resources for helping us take care of our son.

All in all, this has been one of the more eventful months we've had. For the most part, those events have been positive, even the one where our dog got out of the back yard (he actually came back when called - we weren't sure he would). October has a tough act to follow.

#108 - Livin' La Vida Bueno

2011-08-31T20:42:00.000-06:00

(Apologies to Ricky Marin, Ricky Martin fans, and those who can't stand Ricky Martin. I think that covers just about everyone.)

Life has been pretty good of late. Sure, it's had its stress - Teresa's job situation being in doubt, then resolved, then who knows? I've also been working plenty of overtime (including weekends) this summer while also trying to help get Christopher to do the required work for his online photography class.

I caught the sun just right

Yet, in the midst of that, I have had some good moments. Going out with Christopher to take architectural photos. Here's one of my favorites, featuring a Methodist church (or part of it) in downtown Boise:

I think we had a good time together, at least I did. In fact, since I bought my new camera about six weeks ago (a Pentax K-r DSLR from Costco), I've probably taken more pictures than I took in the several years Teresa and I shared our Panasonic Lumix point-and-shoot (a very nice camera that Teresa still uses).

Our new home on wheels

It has been an eventful summer. Right before Teresa got word that her job was being sent offshore (a decision rescinded a couple of weeks later with the immortal phrase "oh, we made a mistake"), we decided the time was right to upgrade our fifth-wheel. We found a 2007 Alpenlite Voyager with a much more family-friendly layout for a relatively low price. While we weren't really looking to trade up, we decided the price was too good to pass up, and we pulled the trigger. We were able to sell our old fifth-wheel within a couple of weeks. So far, we've only taken it out twice, but we look forward to years of enjoyment.

Today also marks four weeks exactly since I decided to end ongoing sessions with my therapist. At the time, I decided to end the sessions for primarily economic reasons. With Teresa's job status up in the air at the time, it seemed the right thing to do.

Later, when Teresa's job situation seemed a bit more secure, it still seemed like the right thing to do but for a different reason. I felt we had kind of plateaued in our session and felt I needed to undertake the next part of my journey on my own. I don't know if I will complete my journey of self-awareness before I finish my journey on this earth, but to paraphrase the old Virginia Slims cigarette commercial, I've come a long way, baby.

Here in Idaho, school is back in session, and the Labor Day weekend is almost upon, both of which mean a winding down of summer. For many, that means an end to camping and RVing experiences until the next year, but for us it may be only the beginning. Christopher has asked about taking the trailer somewhere for Christmas, and we're also hoping to make several outing between now and then.

So, if the phone rings and no one answers, look for us somewhere on the road living la vida bueno. I'll be the one with the smile on my face.

#107 - An Ending and Perhaps a Beginning

2011-07-25T12:33:00.001-06:00

"We'll always have Paris." - Humphrey Bogart to Ingrid Bergman in Casablanca
"Louis, I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship." - Humphrey Bogart to Claude Rains in Casablanca

I was reminded of these two lines this weekend with the news that a co-worker and friend is leaving at the end of the week and moving to Pennsylvania. I'm not sure, but I may have been one of the last to hear the news. Apparently, I swing on the wrong grapevine.

Shannon is a friend in the Facebook sense, although not in the more traditional sense. We don't hang out together. She's never been to our house or vice versa. Still, I consider her a friend and one whose presence around the workplace I will miss a great deal.

One of the things I will miss most about Shannon is her smile. She has one of the warmest, brightest, and most genuine smiles I have been privileged to share. Suffice to say, if you were in a dark space in need of light, you could ask Shannon to smile and you would have all the light you need. There is also a sort of Cheshire cat quality about her smile, almost as if she knows something you don't and is debating whether to let you in on the secret.

I imagine that for a few weeks after Shannon's departure, the workplace will be a colder place. In thinking about this post, I had a flashback to the descriptions in the Harry Potter movies of how people felt after the dementors had come through, as if the joy had been sucked out of the world. A little over the top, but I know that for a little while, laughter will seem a little more hollow around the workplace.

It is an undeniable truth that in life things change. Things change all the time, and nowhere is this more true than in Corporate America. Fortunately, Shannon's departure is not because of a decision to downsize but is due to a desire to reunite her family all in one location.

But change sometimes hurts. In my case, it will ache for a little while. I have been fortunate to have known a handful of wonderful women in my life. One, I have been married to for nearly 18 years, and she has the patience of Job where I am concerned. Another is the person whose job I took but who then became one of my closest friends. Shannon is among that group.

Come Friday, Shannon will be gone but not forgotten. As she said to me in an e-mail Sunday, "we will always have Facebook." It isn't Paris, but it is, I hope, the start of a beautiful friendship.

#106 - Ghosts of My Father

2011-06-19T21:02:00.000-06:00

First off, Happy Father's Day to all of the dads out there.

This Father's Day found me somewhat reflective. First of all, I had to work much of the day. Teresa has been sick for a week, so I've also tried to juggle doing what I can around the house and seeing to her needs. Needless to say, our original plans for the day were definitely subjected to change.

For some reason, this year I also spent some time thinking about my own father who was, in a sense, the father I never knew.

I saw my father for the last time in the spring of 1962, the spring after I turned five. I left to go to kindergarten, and when I got home he was no longer there, at least not physically. But for years, he was always with me.

Perhaps I should say that the idea of my father was always with me since, being five at the time he left, my memories of our time together are not all that plentiful.

At the time, the explanation from my mother was that my father decided he could not handle having a family. So he left. The truth, it turns out, was apparently something much different.

Suffice to say that it appears criminal acts were involved, leading to a stretch in prison. Details, though, are a bit hard to come by fifty years after the fact. What is a fact is that for years I blamed myself for my father's departure because I had no other story to fall back on.

Beyond that, however, I think that I never really learned how to be a son. In some ways, I think I tried to grow up at age five, when I wasn't really ready to be grown up.

The flip side of that is that is that I never really learned how to apply the lessons and experiences that come from a father-son relationship when I became a father. As a child without a father to bond with, I withdrew and became somewhat distant as a means of protecting myself.

The result is that I sometimes have trouble getting close to my own son. Some of that is that I don't really know how to relate to him sometimes because of his autism. Most of it is my own difficulties in getting close to others.

Now to cut myself a little slack. I think I am a better father to my son than my father was to me. The main reason is that I am still around, so there is always a chance to get it right. We occasionally argue, we sometimes laugh, we each sometimes dig in our heels. But through it all, we are still together in a way my father and I never were - as father and son.

#105 - Bachelor for a Week

2011-06-05T20:46:00.000-06:00

It's a bit quiet around the house the past few days. On Friday, I took Teresa and Christopher to the airport for an eight day stay with family in Alabama. While they're away, it's just me and Oliver.

In a way, it's kind of like being a bachelor all over again. I can go to bed when I want, get up when I want (at least this weekend), and eat what I want when I want. Those are the up side.

On the other hand, there's no one around to have an adult conversation with or to talk about the day with. Because it's only me when it usually is the three of us, it's almost as if there's an echo or a hollowness around the house.

I planned to take the trailer out for three days while the family is in Alabama, but I don't think that's going to happen. For one thing, we have a delivery scheduled during those three days that I ought to be home to receive. For another, the weather isn't quite as nice during those three days as it has been this weekend.

Part of life and marriage is adapting and compromise. This week, I'm adapting to their absence. Saturday, I'll be compromising my sleep to pick them up at the airport after their late arrival home. And I'll be ready.

#104 - Road Trip

2011-05-17T23:01:00.000-06:00

Recently, we packed everyone (except the dog) into the more fuel-efficient of our two vehicles and took a little road trip. We traveled about an hour south of Boise to an area known as Swan Falls.

One sample of the promotional
material on display.

Swan Falls is the site of one of Idaho Power's many dams along the Snake River. The original dam was built in 1901 and is the oldest dam on the river. In 1994, a new power plant was built alongside the old plant, which was converted into a museum, open just a few times a month for tours.

The museum features much of the original equipment used in the first power plant, along with some samples of promotional materials used by Idaho Power during the first half of the twentieth century.

The day we visited there was an open house being conducted by Idaho Power, so we took the opportunity to get a closer look and take some pictures and video. This short video combines both still shots and motion to try to give a sense of the facility from both inside and out.

The dam is located in the heart of the Birds of Prey National Conservation Area. There are places upstream and downstream from the dam that are suitable for primitive camping if you have a tent, camper, or small trailer, although we did see a motorhome as well. Trees are nowhere to be found, making shade almost non-existent. As a result, summertime is not the best time to visit if you have issues with the heat.

One thing I discover the longer I live in Idaho is that much of what is worth seeing is found a little off the beaten path. Swan Falls certainly falls (pardon the pun) into that category.

#103 - Another Year Older

2011-05-08T11:08:00.000-06:00

"Another day older and deeper in debt. St. Peter don't you call me 'cause I can't go. I owe my soul to the company store." - Tennessee Ernie Ford, "Sixteen Tons"

I'm not deeper in debt, not yet, although I have yet to see the latest repair bill on our truck. And while I am another day older, I'm actually thinking about another member of our family.

Our son's cake - red velvet with chocolate
chips, sprinkles, and Peepsters on it.

Our son celebrated his 15th birthday Friday. Or, as I like to sometimes put it, he's 15, going on five, going on 40.

As an example: Friday, we went out to dinner to celebrate our son's birthday. Then we went to Toys 'R Us to let him use a gift card he had received. He gravitated immediately to the Pokemon section. While older kids may play with Pokemon, all of the children pictured on the packages looked to be seven or eight, which made me think perhaps our son had outgrown them. (He ended up buying something else.) This could be considered to be part of the five-year old phase (give or take a couple of years).

A few days ago, our son was sitting in our family room, looking at a catalog. He was gazing intently at a page filled with women in bathing suits. A week or two earlier, he was apparently doing a Google search on nudist camps. (By the way, there is one within an hour's drive of Boise we can take him to if he's serious.) I would term these behaviors as relatively typical teenage actions in the age of the internet.

On other occasions, he's asked serious questions of us, such as whether we think he'll ever get married. It's a prospect that both scares me and gives me hope for his future. I haven't always handled being a husband that well, so I have no idea how someone who is autistic will do. But I am certainly not one to predict.

This wide range of behaviors and actions is, I think, fairly typical of someone considered to be a high-functioning autistic. One minute, our son is talking about becoming a film director one day; the next, he's making yet another creature out of a piece of paper.

We don't know what his future holds. We recently completely our estate planning process, so we have hopefully put things in place to help care for him when we are no longer around to do so. Perhaps before then we'll have a better idea of what he will be able to do for himself.

There are days when I think our son will fully be able to live independently. There are other days when I think he will need someone to do everything for him. Our son can be unpredictable at times. That unpredictability has taught us that, where he is concerned, anything is possible and perhaps probable.

#102 - Wine for the Active Lifestyle?

2011-04-23T23:03:00.000-06:00

Single-serve alcoholic beverages have been around for some time, but you always needed a glass to pour them into. Until now.

Three of the six available varieties, it also comes in
Cabernet Sauvignon, Pinot Grigio, and Riesling.

Copa Di Vino, a company based in Oregon, has come out with a line of single-serve wines bottled and served in their own recyclable plastic glass.

The wines have a patented foil seal that, according to the website, keep the wines fresh for up to one year. The container is capped off with a plastic lid that snaps of tightly to keep any leftover wine from spilling whilst you are on the move.

As judged by the comments of some co-workers, these 187ml or 6.3 ounce containers would be perfect for picnics, a trip to the park, perhaps an outdoor concert or other performance.

But what about the wines themselves? I'm not a oenophile or any kind of wine expert, but to my uneducated palate, these wines are okay, but not great. While drinking the merlot, I kept getting hints of a smell that seemed slightly chemical in nature, perhaps to do with the foil seal.

I'm not a big fan of chardonnay to begin with, and the Copa Di Vino chardonnay did nothing to change that, although I did find that the wine took on more of a citrusy note as it warmed a bit. The white zinfandel was sweet, as you would expect, and perhaps a slight cut above Sutter Home and the like.

Part of the presentation of these wines on the company's website touts the idea of bottling premium wines right in the glass, in this case, a recyclable one. But is that enough to recommend any of these wines as more than a convenient novelty?

The answer may depend on the price point. If these are priced at $1.99 or perhaps even less, I could see these becoming quite popular with people who lead active lifestyles - hikers, bikers, and such. Imagine hiking to the top of a hill and once there enjoying a glass of wine while also enjoying a panoramic view or perhaps a beautiful sunset.

I can also see these as a popular choice when the urge hits to have a picnic in the park. As long as people remember that they are buying lifestyle and convenience and not great wine, these have the potential to do very well indeed.

#101 - Some Stuff About Stuff

2011-04-14T20:20:00.001-06:00

"I want an iPod. What's an iPod?"

Those words were uttered recently by our son. Yes, we were proud. While humorous, these words also point out what is one of the problems with the mass consumerism mentality some have warned about for years.

We are bombarded by commercials for the latest and greatest this and the new and improved that. The commercials sometimes convince us to buy things because they sound really great and not because we need them. I would not be at all surprised to find that some people buy things not having a clue as to what to do with them.

This 2004 article from National Geographic suggests that consumerism may actually be doing more harm than good in terms of the overall health of our planet. I can't speak globally, but I don't think it does all that much good from an individual perspective.

Jocelyn K. Glei asks "Is Consumerism Killing Our Creativity?" It's an interesting hypothesis that, whether true or not, should make us stop shopping online for a moment to think. I certainly think an argument can be made that stuff is not good for our physical or mental well-being.

Think about it, You buy a house. You buy a car, maybe two cars. Then you buy a bunch of stuff to put in the house. Pretty soon, you've got a lifestyle to maintain, one that might be pretty expensive. So you work. Long hours. Maybe a second job. All to maintain this lifestyle you've "stuffed" yourself into. Long hours lead to increased stress. Perhaps an ulcer. Or worse. Now, you have medical "stuff" to take care of in addition to the stuff you bought.

I'm not saying stuff is inherently bad. I have stuff, lots of stuff. However, I seldom aspire to the latest and greatest stuff, and I almost never aspire to the most expensive stuff. Case in point: I recently bought a new laptop. Did I buy the most expensive one I could find? No, I bought perhaps the cheapest one I could find that would do what I wanted and felt right when I used it. The other thing I seldom do is get caught up in the stuff that other people have.

When I was younger, I tried to fill the many holes in my life with stuff. I never went for expensive clothes or fancy cars or anything like that. Instead, I bought lots of books and records (later, CDs and DVDs). I had plenty of great music and movies, but the holes in my life were still there.

These days, we are working to rid ourselves of some of the stuff we've accumulated over the years. We are finding it is easier to get rid of stuff if you don't have it to begin with. We may be worrying more about what we have than what we don't have.

There is an old saying that money can't buy happiness. It can buy lots of stuff, but stuff will not make you happy. Unless, of course, you approach it with the right attitude.

What is that attitude? If I were defining it, I think it would go something like this: enjoy the stuff you have, don't worry about the stuff you don't have, define your stuff but don't be defined by your stuff. When the stuff gets to be too much, sell it, donate it or, if necessary, throw it away. Think of it as freeing yourself from another chain.

#100 - Working vs. Living

2011-04-11T19:50:00.000-06:00

"I'm taking what they're giving 'cause I'm working for a livin'." - Huey Lewis and the News
"Work, work, work. Work, work, work." Mel Brooks as Gov. William J. Le Petomane in Blazing Saddles

Some time over the last month or so, I seem to have crossed the line from someone with a job to someone bordering on being a workaholic. And I'm not all that happy about it.

Last week, I worked a little over 60 hours. Three of the previous four work weeks were over 50 hours, and the remaining week was almost 50 hours.

There are those who say that in this economy I should be thankful to have a job. However, I suspect many employers count on people having exactly that mentality and keeping quiet as more work is piled on them. I know I've kept quiet. Employers rely on our distorted sense of responsibility with the end result that many of us put our employers ahead of our families or our own well-being.

My developing theory about this is that workload is the individual equivalent of the theory regarding highway expansion. That theory basically states that as highway capacity increases (additional lanes, new roads, etc.) the level of traffic or traffic load will increase to fill the additional new capacity.

In terms of the workplace, the way this plays out is that, as you increase the number of hours you work (presumably in order to catch up or even get ahead), the workload increases to fill that additional capacity. As a result, I end up no further along than when I was working 40 hours a week.

That's why I cringe whenever I hear the latest report on productivity in this country. Yes, we all are doing more with our hours at work, but at what cost? In an age where workers are disposable parts, we all try to make ourselves seem more valuable by putting in 60, 70, 80 hours a week, thereby hastening the pace at which we, too, must be disposed of because we've burned out like a light bulb.

There are those who tell me "think of the paycheck you'll get" which contains a tacit assumption that money is the most important thing in life. It's not. It can't buy you love; it can only rent you lust. It can't buy you happiness; it can only buy you stuff to fill the empty spaces and create the illusion of happiness. I know, I've tried that approach.

A former colleague once uttered what remains one of the best pieces of wisdom I have ever picked up. As he was leaving, he told me "I work to live. I don't live to work." I've always thought of those as words to live by. Lately, it seems the balance has shifted in the opposite direction, It's time for me to reverse course and soon.

On a side note: This is my 100th post on this blog. I never thought I'd get this far. At some point, I thought I would become more focused in my posts in terms of topics, but this blog has remained somewhat random, thereby living up to its name. It has in turns been therapy, rant, attempt at humor, heartfelt, but hopefully not boring.

#99 - Where There's a Will, There's a Way - Into Madness

2011-04-06T21:33:00.000-06:00

". . . nothing can be said to be certain except death and taxes." - Benjamin Franklin
"And when I die, and when I'm gone / There'll be one child born in this world to carry on, to carry on." - Laura Nyro (sung by Blood, Sweat and Tears)

For several years now we've talked about writing our wills and getting our estate in order so as to provide for our son when we're gone. For most of that time, talk is all it's been. Until recently, that is.

A little over a month ago, we finally met with a lawyer to get the ball rolling on getting a will in place along with powers of attorney, living wills, and so on. We completed the first phase of that process and have draft documents in hand. Now the real fun begins,

The draft documents we have have several areas where more specific information is needed. Burial or cremation? Open or closed casket? Where should your obituary be published? It's a slow death just getting the paperwork ready so that you are prepared when you actually do die.

And the need for specific information goes on. Who should be your trustee should your original choice resign, die, or otherwise not be able to carry out the duties assigned? What music do you want played at any service? (For the record, I want Elvis Costello's "The Angels Wanna Wear My Red Shoes" to begin things, and I want to close with Barber's "Adagio for Strings".) Who do you want as your pallbearers? I don't know; who wants to carry an urn.

If there are specific bequests I want to make aside from the disposal of my estate (at least I sound well-to-do), I need to list them. If there are specific things I want to buried with, I must list those as well.

You get the idea. It's an important task, but it seems like minutiae on top of minutiae. No wonder we put it off for so long. I no longer feel guilty about that, if I ever did. It's important, but it's painful in much the same way having bamboo shoots placed under your fingernails is painful. Perhaps wills and such documents are the revenge of lawyers for having to go to school for so long.

But I suppose we can't turn back now. After all, we have a special needs child to plan for, which I guess makes it all worthwhile. So, this weekend, I guess I'll be doing a little heavy lifting and some less than light reading. As they say, no pain, no gain.

#98 - Vacation and It's Aftermath

2011-04-05T21:49:00.000-06:00

"Vacation, all I ever wanted." - The Go-Gos
"Is that all there is" - Peggy Lee

I'm now through two days in my first week back at work since vacation, a glorious eight-day getaway from it all along the banks of Brownlee Reservoir near Hells Canyon.

It was a wonderful, do-nothing affair, the weather saw to that. It was cold, wet, and windy, and it was great. We read, drank wine, ate well, and listened to music in the comfort of our fifth-wheel trailer.

In other words, we sat on our butts. The couch and recliner became like human battery chargers that we plugged ourselves into in hopes that eight days away from work would rejuvenate us enough to power us through the dozens of workdays ahead.

And it worked, at least for the first Monday back. But after eleven hours at work yesterday, ten and a half more today, and the prospective of many more long days over the next two months, I have to say eight days was simply not enough.

Not that I'm complaining. Okay, maybe I am a little. I came back to work to find myself already behind and ready to get away again as soon as humanly possible. If I can dig out from everything on my desk at work.

The eight days away were not without their own difficulties; the power supply on my wife's laptop died, which led to the purchase of a new machine. Today, her portable hard drive apparently decided to join her old laptop's power supply in technology heaven.

Then, of course, there are all the little day to day things that don't go away just because you've gone on vacation: laundry, housework, dishes, etc. It's kind of like that unpaid balance on your credit card, it just continues to grow and becomes harder to deal with. At some point, the creditors want their money.

That's where we are now. We had our fun away, and now it's time to pay the check. Was it worth price of built-up housework and laundry and falling behind at work? In the immortal words of Sarah Palin, you betcha!

#97 - All Things Christopher

2011-03-18T21:44:00.000-06:00

Today, Teresa and I met with teachers and support staff to discuss Christopher's Individualized Education Plan (IEP) for next year and his transition from junior high to high school. I think we were both a bit apprehensive going in because we were afraid there would be an attempt to lock him into a path that would eliminate any possibility of pursuing a career in something he might be interested in.

For the first few minutes of the meeting, I felt my fears were going to be realized. There was a good deal of talk about socialization skills and the like, things the junior high program has worked with Christopher on for several years with little success. There has been little attempt, from our perspective, to see what he is capable of academically, and we were both afraid his entire life was going to be mapped out for him in this meeting. The roadmap we were envisioning eliminated any possibility of college and career.

Thankfully, the meeting went better than I initially though it would. I felt we were listened to and heard and that we were all in agreement that getting Christopher where he needs to go - socially and academically - will require some thinking outside the box. I thought some of the same things last year only to be a bit disappointed in the way things worked out, so the jury is still out.

However, I was encouraged to hear that Christopher has made some academic strides this year. The news on that front sounded much more positive this year. And when I mentioned that I still had hopes Christopher might one day be able to go to college, the idea was not dismissed or even downplayed. it was left out there as one of many possibilities for him.

What that tells me is that there is growing recognition and awareness on the part of all parties that no one yet knows what Christopher is or will be truly capable of. Personally, I still think deep down that the sky's the limit for him - as long as we don't place so many limits on him now that he can't even see the sky let alone reach for it. I came away from today's meeting with a sliver of hope that won't happen, and I'm going to hang onto it for all it's worth.

#96 - The Darnedest Things

2011-03-06T22:41:00.000-07:00

This morning, Teresa was in her office, working away to solve some crisis developing out of the latest systems conversion at work. Christopher and I were left to have breakfast on our own.

While we were enjoying a bowl of oatmeal, we happened to look out through our sliding glass door into the back yard, where we saw a cat in the neighbor's tree. While we watched, the cat gingerly made its way down through the branches to the top of the tree trunk. As it was looking around for a way out of the tree or perhaps looking for a place to jump, Christopher says to me, "Cats are such drama queens." Darnedest thing #1.

A few minutes later, I hear the following question: "Dad, do you know about sperm?" I suddenly got a little nervous thinking the time has come for "The Talk," the one I never got growing up, the one my single year as a Boy Scout left me unprepared to give. Darnedest thing #2.

I answered, "Yes," and was about to try to formulate an explanation, when he told me what he knew. "There's the sperm whale." "Yes." I said. He quickly added, "Then, there's the other sperm. They're like little balls with tails." Oddly enough, the fact that he already knew that much made it a little easier to try and explain their function to him.

Then he asked me if Oliver, our beagle, had sperm. I told him no, and he asked me why. I told Christopher that Oliver had been neutered so that he would not father lots of puppies because there were already so many dogs in the world that no one wanted.

At this point, I might have expected to have to explain to Christopher what it means to be neutered. However, he astounded me by asking if Oliver's reproductive organs had been removed so he wouldn't get even crazier around other dogs. (Our beagle does not play well with other dogs, the ad on Craigslist not withstanding.) Darnedest thing #3.

After that, there was no more talk of sperm or cats or drama queens. We finished our breakfast, Christopher cleared the table, and then he went off to do some drawing or reading.

Christopher never saw the television show because it was on the air long before he was born, but Art Linkletter had it right when he stated that kids say the darnedest things. At least Christopher sure does.

#95 - Just a Lazy Day

2011-03-05T16:34:00.000-07:00

I sit here at my desk looking out at overcast skies that threaten rain but have yet to deliver much, and I think of how unmotivated I am today. Some who know me might ask how today is any different, but that is something for a future post, perhaps. If I can make myself write it.

Today, the weather is uninspiring, which fits in with how I feel - uninspired. I started out to clean up my office, a job which remains undone, as it has since we put in closet organizers several weeks ago and even before that.

I've succeeded in charging up a pair of wireless headphones only to find they don't work. I got an old inkjet printer working on my Linux-powered laptop, only to find it needs ink. And I moved a few piles of stuff around only to realize I still don't know what to with them. Not exactly legendary in the annuls of productivity.

The highlight of the day so far has been delivery of our Girl Scout cookie order by our neighbor's daughter. After I took delivery and closed the door, I immediately started to feel old. I remembered her as a five or six-year old when her family moved in across the street probably six years ago. The time suddenly felt as if it had flown by in a flash.

I blame such thoughts on the weather. It's been gloomy enough lately to remind Teresa of her time living in Syracuse, an experience, to hear her tell it, akin to having teeth pulled without anesthetic. I think she internally translates the phrase "when Hell freezes over" as "when I go to Syracuse." Apparently, it was gray there nearly half the year. The weather here is almost never like that, but winter grabbed on hard this year and is still fighting not to let go.

Oliver came in to cheer me up. His arrival reminds me that winter will soon let go of its hold and give way to spring. I just wish it would hurry up already!

#94 - The Communal Side of Food

2011-02-26T23:48:00.000-07:00

It's late Saturday evening, and Teresa has just gone to bed. A few hours earlier, the last of the dinner guests left after several hours of catching up, laughter, and yes, good food if I do say so myself.

It was great to catch up with people I once worked with and hung out with, people I haven't seen in several months. The conversation flowed freely, the laughter perhaps even more freely.

That, to me, is one of the great aspects of food. It always seems to taste better when it is shared with friends. I don't know if that is because, as a cook, you try a little harder and the extra effort comes through in the food. Perhaps it is because cooking for friends adds an extra element of enjoyment to the act itself. I think it may be some combination of the two.

After everyone left, Teresa and I watched Julie & Julia, about author Julie Powell's year-long journey through Julia Child's cookbook, Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Interspersed with that story is Julia Child's years long struggle to finish the cookbook and find someone to publish it. At the heart of the movie though, at least to me, is the food and our relationship with it.

In the film, food is the means by which Julie Powell is finally able to start and complete something, in the case cooking all 500-plus recipes from Julia Child's cookbook over the course of a single year. Food is also the means by which Julia Child finds purpose and meaning in life, perhaps even finds life itself.

When I have the chance to cook for friends, I don't know that I find purpose and meaning, but I do find myself feeling a little more alive, a little more connected with others. Cooking becomes my gift to them, my way of showing them how glad I am that they are a part of my life.

Cooking is mere ritual and eating merely a necessity of living when you have no one to share it with. Cooking during the week often feels the same way, coming home after a full day of work, faced with the prospect of what to cook or, as it is sometimes put, what to throw together for dinner.

Cooking for friends, though, becomes more of an act of love, a special occasion. I may be wrong, but I suspect many of the world's disagreements and misunderstandings could be cleared up or overcome if we could just cook for one another and break bread together. Who'll serve up the first course?

#93 - The Facebook Effect

2011-02-24T21:15:00.002-07:00

Today, I took what was for me the unpleasant and somewhat painful task of removing one of my Facebook friends, someone I had worked with for several years during my past life as a television news producer.

A recent political discussion begun by said former friend on Facebook had turned a little too ugly for my tastes, ugly to the point where it was suggested I hate America and told I should leave. So I did leave - the friendship, that is. Not the country.

The exchange is, I think, indicative of something I'll call the Facebook Effect. While we become what Facebook calls friends, we are often nothing more than connections.

There is little true intimacy and often little in the way of civility. The way many of us were taught to talk to and to treat others goes out the window on Facebook. We each sit behind our computer keyboards and talk at each other rather to each other, assuming from a few words written here or there that we know all there is to know about the other person. That false familiarity and the safety of hiding behind our keyboards gives us the license we seek to speak to one another in ways we likely would not if face to face.

Of course, not all interactions on Facebook are as I describe here. But there are enough such interactions to make me wonder sometimes whether I am really cut out for "social networking."

The aforementioned exchange left me with a sour taste and a feeling similar to the one which led me to get out of television news. I could feel myself beginning to sink to the level of those who were spewing their hatred at me. So I got out.

Since he has 4,800-plus other friends, I doubt I'll be missed by my former Facebook friend. It's sad in a way, though. Facebook has the potential to bring people from various places and various viewpoints together for meaningful discussion. I've seen it happen.

However, that potential is a double-edged sword as it also allows people of similar views to insulate themselves from different people or different views. In such an insular environment, progress can never occur, understanding is doomed, and cooperation is prevented.

I've experienced too much of that side of the Facebook effect lately. Now I'm ready to rediscover some of the best of what the Facebook effect has to offer.

#92 - Rainy Day Reflections

2011-02-20T13:47:00.000-07:00

"Rainy days and Mondays always get me down." - The Carpenters

I sit here on a Sunday afternoon, looking out at an overcast and gloomy sky. It snowed a little last night, and a few flakes continue to fall here and there.

Teresa is busy working on another of the myriad of household projects that always seem to need doing; I have a load of laundry working; and Christopher is busy making a clay monster instead of beginning to review for a test he has Wednesdays.

When I was younger - in my teens - I actually used to like drizzly, overcast days. Living in Seattle, such days were frequent visitors, and I would go for walks in the light drizzle. The drizzle no doubt suited my emotional state in those days. I often felt lonely and misunderstood, a common state for many teens I would imagine.

In my case, that was compounded somewhat by my difficulty in making many friends or in getting close to people. I lived in a single-parent family that subsisted on welfare. That combination cemented a feeling that I didn't fit in and wasn't like other kids. The fact that our closest neighbors were a gas station, a warehouse, and an abandoned field didn't help much. So rainy days seemed perfect, and I enjoyed them like one enjoys a visit from an old friend.

These days, I'm not so much into rainy days. I look forward to longer and sunnier days so we can get the trailer our and go somewhere. Of course, nicer weather will bring with it another list of projects that need doing.

Teresa is a list person. I suspect that somewhere she even has a spreadsheet listing the various lists she has. From my limited perspective, it seems to me that so many lists might make it harder to ever relax or even enjoy life. On the other hand, I can't deny that she keeps us organized and makes it possible for us to do a number of the things we like to do when we have the time.

I guess you could say that I am like a river, meandering here and there, flowing sometimes haphazardly but getting there in the end. Teresa is more like a road going from Point A to Point B. Each approach has something to recommend it. Together, the combination makes for a scenic drive along the way - as long as we remember to enjoy the view once in a while.

#91 - Conversation With My Son

2011-02-14T10:25:00.001-07:00

I was sitting at the computer this morning, reading a few news headlines while I waited for my son, Christopher, to get ready for school.

While I was sitting there, he came in to talk to me. Here is the entire conversation:

Christopher: "Dad, can I ask you a question?"
Me: "Sure."
Christopher: "Will I ever find love."
Me: "Anything's possible."

My half-smart aleck, half serious answer seemed to be enough, as he then proceeded to get ready for school with nothing more said on the subject. Afterward, though, I got to thinking more about the subject.

First thought: This was an entirely appropriate question for Christopher to ask given that today is Valentine's Day, and as he put it, the day is about love, although he first indicated that by making kissing noises.

Second thought: Christopher's question has no easy answer, especially where he is concerned, given his autism. While he is capable of displaying emotion, I don't know whether he is capable of developing deep feeling for another person. It is a question I have occasionally asked even of myself.

There are times that I have great belief in Christopher's ability to lead and live a "normal" life, one that includes things like college, career, and even love, marriage, and family. At other times, I wonder to what extent he will be capable of such a life and to what degree he might be allowed to have such a life.

One thing I have learned as Christopher's dad is that nothing in life is certain and that there are no easy answers. Another thing I learned is that the answer I gave Christopher this morning, while intended somewhat flippantly at the time may, in fact, have been the best answer after all. Because when nothing is certain, anything truly is possible.

#90 - Old Friends

2011-02-11T22:14:00.000-07:00

"Photographs and memories / Christmas cards you sent to me / All that I have are these / To remember you"

I've always liked that old Jim Croce song; it speaks to the melancholy side of me and to the thought of all the people I've let slip out of my life for one reason or another.

Lately, though, I've been struck again by the way in which Facebook has allowed me to get some of these people back into my life, albeit in a smaller and virtual way. It has been wonderful to rediscover people I knew and was close to years ago. I don't know if we'll be as close again, but in some ways that doesn't matter. Reconnecting with them has brought the memories of those earlier times alive again.

Through the years, I used writing - primarily song lyrics - to help me work through and deal with my emotions - joy, sorrow, anger - as well as my doubts and fears. In thinking back to the past shared with some of my new Facebook friends, I find myself so inclined again. I don't claim to be another Cole Porter or even Paul McCartney, but I think the message gets across.

Old Friends

Remember when we were as thick as thieves?
One for all, like Musketeers
But time went by, we went our separate ways
And lost touch with the passing years

My vision may not quite be what it was
But you still seem the same to me
I think of you and time just melts away
As I relive each memory

Old friends
Never really disappear
They live on in head and heart -
We're never far apart -
Their memories I hold dear
Old friends
Just a thought or dream away
When I get to feeling down -
Those old friends gather 'round -
To keep the blues at bay

In a quiet hour, I close my eyes
And travel back to yesterday
I think of those who walked into my life
And walked with me along the way

We only get a moment on this earth
And all too soon the moment's passed
But when I take that trip down Memory Lane
I can make the moment last

Old friends
Never really disappear
They live on in head and heart -
We're never far apart -
Their memories I hold dear
Old friends
Just a thought or dream away
When I get to feeling down -
Those old friends gather 'round -
To keep the blues at bay

February 11, 2011

#89 - To Fob or Not to Fob - What Was the Question?

2011-02-05T11:46:00.000-07:00

Saturday morning - I'm preparing to do a load of Christopher's jeans, and I ask him to check his pockets for anything left behind. He says he needs to check his fob, and we get into an energetic discussion of what a fob is. He says a classmate at school told him it was the small pocket above the right front pocket on a pair of jeans.

I always knew a fob had to do with a pocket watch, so I didn't think he could be right, especially since I never see anyone wear a pocket watch with a pair of jeans. I countered by telling Christopher that a fob was something attached to a pocket watch, like a chain or strap.

We go back and forth like this for a few minutes until I go and get a dictionary. While I'm walking to the bookshelf, I hear in the background "I'm not listening to you . . . la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la."

I get the dictionary, look up the word fob and find, lo and behold, Christopher is right. As am I. A fob, it turns out, is a small pocket on the front of a pair of trousers or a vest used primarily for carrying a pocket watch. It is also a small chain or leather strap attached to a pocket watch or something attached to a chain or strap, like a medallion. I guess even an English major can learn something. I'm not as sure about teenagers.

Right below those definitions was another entry for the word fob. This one had to do with cheating other people and also shifting jobs or responsibility onto another, as in "to fob off onto another." I mentioned to Christopher that "fobbing off" was something he was good at.

Christopher has a tendency, when we ask him to do something, to walk off and disappear for a while, until we either forget that we asked him to do something or we get tired of waiting and do it for him. I told him he could put that on a resume'. In fact, I told him that qualified him for a position in management. He didn't understand, but Teresa and I got a good laugh out of it. And isn't that part of what children are for? To make you laugh? After all, laughter is an aspect of joy. Perhaps I'm just easily amused. That's not such a bad place to be.

#88 - The Joy of Cooking . . . Made Easier

2011-01-23T19:06:00.000-07:00

I love to cook. In fact, I like cooking so much that for my birthday one year Teresa gave me a cookbook. I've made some wonderful recipes from it, including chicken marsala and pumpkin cheesecake.

As much as I like to cook, though, there are times when I'm tired or just want to do something fast and easy. In our home, that also usually translated into something just this side of bland and boring. I have a feeling that has changed.

A week ago, we bought an electric pressure cooker from Costco, the Cuisinart CPC-600. Tonight, I had my maiden voyage with this new culinary toy and made barbecue beef.

The Cuisinart comes with a recipe booklet that includes a recipe for barbecue pork. Well, we'd had pork the night before, so no problem, I substituted beef.

The substitution worked so well that we nearly sat there until we had eaten three pounds of barbecue, just the three of us. Even Christopher liked it, and he always says he doesn't like barbecue sauce.

We finally succeeded in pushing ourselves away, but it was not easy. The only thing that made it possible was knowing there was still enough for dinner tomorrow night. It's a recipe I'll be making again, with beef or pork. I may also try making it with chicken. I predict this new kitchen toy will be getting some good use. We might even put it through its paces the next time we take the trailer out. Good stuff.

#87 - Yet More Random Thoughts

2011-01-22T21:50:00.000-07:00

Why is it that I am more tired when I "wake up early" at 7:00 a.m. on a Saturday than I am if I "sleep in" until 7:00 a.m. on a weekday?

Why is it that the amount of stuff I have seems to grow proportionately to the amount of stuff I am trying to get rid of?

Can something other than tinted contacts really make my brown eyes blue? (An allusion to an old Crystal Gayle song for those of you under 40 or not into country.) Can Singing in the Rain lead to Walking on Sunshine? If I Had a Hammer, would it turn out to be Maxwell's Silver Hammer? Or would MC Hammer come along to say You Can't Touch This?

If you can save 20% on a purchase of $75 or more, can't you save 100% by not spending anything? And if operators are standing by, why doesn't someone get them chairs?

Why do Deer Crossing signs look as if the deer is performing ballet and should be wearing a tutu? When I pass a Game Crossing sign, why do I never see a Monopoly box or a deck of cards or maybe an Xbox 360?

Can one ever see the end of the tunnel if it's dark? If something is "the gift that keeps on giving," won't everybody eventually have one?

Finally, if you see a fork in the road, pick it up before someone drives over it and gets a flat tire.

#86 - A Public Proclamation

2011-01-09T06:00:00.028-07:00

Today is my wife Teresa's birthday. The cake is baked and frosted, and the presents are ready. Well, almost ready.

There is still one gift I want to give her: public recognition of just how important she is in my life. Even after 17 years, of marriage, I still have trouble saying what I think or how I feel without stumbling over my words or messing it up somehow. So I'll have to say it here.

For 17 years, Teresa has been my rudder, struggling to give me balance and to help me find direction. She has given me support and advice when I needed it and a swift kick in the rear when I deserved it.

I haven't made things easy for her. The way I grew up led me to close off from people around and taught me to fear feeling. I have struggled to overcome and let go of that past and finally feel I am gaining the upper hand in that battle. I am likely not yet where she would like me to be or where she deserves me to be, but I would not have come this far without her.

To Teresa, I say thank you for being behind me and for standing beside me, for pushing me when I've needed it, and for helping get back up whenever I stumble. Our life together has taken some twists and turns along the way, but I am glad we have shared this journey together. I love you. Happy Birthday!

#85 - Out With the Old, In With the New

2010-12-31T21:23:00.000-07:00

As I write this, there are roughly three hours left in 2010. It has been an eventful year in a lot of ways. It was a good year for reuniting with old friends, making new friends, and getting together with family.

For me, the year was a continuation of the journey I began in 2008 to come to grips with my own past and finally begin to let go of the things that have kept me from living life to its fullest. I still have some distance to travel, but I can say I am happier than I have ever been. I am becoming more content with who I am, even as I work to become the person I can be.

In the past, I had a habit of making ten New Year's resolution every year. And every year, I was lucky if I kept a single resolution. This year, I'm keeping it simple and only making a single resolution. That resolution is to continue my journey of inner acceptance and growth. If I can do that, I can then make a greater effort to be a better friend, a better husband, a better father, and a better person.

I hope your journeys in 2011 take you to some wonderful places. With any luck, perhaps our paths will cross and we can visit some of those places together. Happy New Year!

#84 - A Brief Christmas Wish

2010-12-24T13:15:00.000-07:00

Before we each get caught up in the million last-minute things that seem to need doing in the final hours before Christmas, I want to take a moment to wish each and everyone of you a very joyful Christmas.

My wish and my hope is that you find yourself in a happy, peaceful place this Christmas, even if it is only for the day. The last two years of my life have been a bit of a roller coaster ride as I have begun to wrestle with and perhaps finally get the upper hand on the demons which have plagued me since childhood. I have come from the edge of the abyss to a place where, if I am not exactly standing in the light, I can at least see it.

I also hope at Christmas that each of you can find or grab a moment to step back from the rush of activity we all get caught up in and simply breathe. Find the calm that will allow you to truly experience and enjoy the spirit of the season, one of joy and of peace. The challenge for each of us is to carry that spirit into the coming year. If we can do that, then 2011 will be a wonderful year, no matter what challenges it brings.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

#83 - Christmas Giffts, Big and Small

2010-12-21T12:14:00.000-07:00

The clock is ticking. Christmas is almost here. Do you have all of your shopping done yet? Aside from perhaps a few stocking stuffers, I do. For the most part, I can now relax and watch the world go mad around me. Of course, it helps when you only have to buy for two people.

I don't know what surprises and mysteries await me under the tree this year. I think I've been pretty good, but you'd have to ask Santa (and Teresa) for a more unbiased assessment. However, even if there is nothing under the tree with my name on it, I have already received some wonderful gifts this Christmas season.

The most recent of these gifts was received yesterday. I had a friend at work tell me about her first time back on the ski slopes since suffering a knee injury last year. The joy and expression of pure glee on her face was almost child-like and is something I hope all of us can experience at least once in our adult lives.

A second gift received this week was the glimpse of a white-tailed deer crossing the road while I was driving into work. It helped remind me that there is great beauty in nature, even when it is cold outside.

The third gift came from my son, Christopher, who is trying this year to take a Christmas tradition in a slightly more healthy direction. He wanted to show his concern for Santa's health by making sure we have low-fat milk on hand to put out with Santa's cookies on Christmas Eve.

The fourth gift is one I have enjoyed off-and-on throughout 2010. It's the used fifth-wheel trailer we bought last year (took delivery on my birthday, so it has been two presents in one). It has allowed me and my family to get out to places near and far year-round and relax while also enjoying the sights and scenes around us. We didn't quite make a trip every month this year, but we came pretty close and will have something to shoot for in 2011.

The fifth gift I have received this year is my growing list of friends on Facebook. It has been great to connect with people from my past and stay in touch with people who have been a part of my life. It has also helped me to reconnect with my family, which has been a wonderful thing.

The final gift I have enjoyed this year and for 17 previous Christmases is the love and support of my extremely patient wife, Teresa. She has stood by me and walked with me as I have slowly tried to rid myself of baggage from my past and tried to learn to embrace the possibilities of the present and future. I'm not there yet, but it isn't for lack of support and encouragement.

It isn't quite enough gifts to fill the 12 days of Christmas, but it's a pretty nice haul just the same. I hope each of you have a wonderful Christmas, filled with joy and laughter and, most of all, with love. Merry Christmas!

#82 Looking In My Rear View Mirror

2010-12-04T22:52:00.000-07:00

"You load sixteen tons, what do you get? Another day older and deeper in debt."

Sixteen Tons - Tennessee Ernie Ford

"Glory days, well, they'll pass you by. Glory days, in the wink of a young girl's eye. Glory days, glory days."

Glory Days - Bruce Springsteen

I am, thankfully, not deeper in debt, and I'm not sure I ever really had any glory days, but I suppose these songs reflect a portion of the mindset I've sometimes had whenever another birthday comes around.

I am now another year older, and perhaps most of whatever promise I had when I was younger has now slipped past and is irretrievably lost. I am at a stage of my where I have more past than future.

As Paul Anka wrote and Frank Sinatra sang, "Regrets - I've had a few." There were many things I wanted to do in my life and likely never will. For instance, write a best-selling novel. The ideas are there; I think some writing ability is there. What is missing is the drive and the discipline.

I suppose the same holds true with regard to writing a hit song. I've written lyrics most of my life, some of them pretty good, I think, but I never had the courage or the drive to put myself or to put them out there.

At the same time, there are things I've done that I never thought I would. I never thought I would be responsible for producing a local television station's coverage of a papal visit. After I left college the first time, I never though I'd finish my degree, let alone go on to graduate school. And, once I reached my late 20s, I never thought I would marry, let alone become a father.

Then there are things I still hope to do. Some of these revolve around travel. I've always had a desire to see Scotland and Ireland. Although not as strong as it once was, that desire still lives. That desire has been supplanted to a large degree by a desire to one day live full-time in a motor home or fifth-wheel trailer and travel around the country.

Two other things I still hope to do in my life: be a better husband and a better father. I did not have very good role models in either area, so both have been continuous on the job training. But I'll keep trying and keep dreaming.

As long as I have a dream to work toward, simple or elaborate, I won't mind continuing to get older. When I, when we no longer have dreams, that's when getting older no longer beats the alternative. So keep dreaming. I intend to.

#81 - Giving Thanks

2010-11-24T22:39:00.000-07:00

I originally envisioned drafting this from our fifth-wheel overlooking Brownlee Reservoir in the Hells Canyon area near the Idaho-Oregon border. Alas, winter picked Thanksgiving week to make an early appearance, shelving those plans.

Still, I have plenty to be thankful for this year. First and foremost, of course, are my wife, Teresa, and our son, Christopher. They give me roots when before I really had none.

Second are my friends, including all of the people I've reconnected with or stayed connected with through Facebook. Over the years, I have crossed paths with a great many people, and it still blows my mind to think that some of them want to stay in touch, even if only now and then.

I'm thankful to have a job and not to have a great deal of debt. From the news stories, that makes me more fortunate than many.

Tomorrow, we'll join millions of other Americans in sitting down to a Thanksgiving dinner, in our case turkey, mashed potatoes, green beans, homemade bread, and pie. Then, we'll probably join millions of other Americans in settling down to the traditional after Thanksgiving dinner nap.

I hope you find plenty to be thankful for this year, and I hope all of you have a wonderful Thanksgiving.

#80 - Seasonal Musings

2010-11-07T10:27:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since I posted and thought I should, if only for my own satisfaction. I often don't know if anyone reads these posts, and at some level, I suppose it doesn't matter. I write as much for me as for anyone else.

With the elections come and gone, I am forced to finally admit that it is autumn. I've been trying to deny it as long as I can, but the signs are now everywhere.

The first sign came a few weekends ago when we winterized the fifth wheel, draining the hot water heater, blowing air through the water lines, a putting some RV antifreeze into the tanks. Not that big a job but a sure indicator that warmer weather has moved on.

The biggest indicator, of course, would be all of the leaves on the ground. Everywhere I look I see the signs of one life cycle giving way to the next. Spring and autumn are, I suppose, the most visual indicators of the circle of life. Spring rings in the new while autumn rings out the old.

As I get older, I think my feelings about the seasons are changing, Spring and summer are now my favorites, and not solely because of the warmer weather. Although that is a plus.

Spring brings new life, and for me represents a season for new hope, new opportunity, and new possibility. Summer seems like the prime of the year, the time when those new possibilities have their greatest chance for realization.

I do still enjoy autumn for the colors and the crispness of the air that comes without it being too cold. On the other hand, autumn feels like turning a corner and a sense that if those new possibilities of spring have not yet been realized, they won't be, at least not this year.

I think winter used to be my favorite season of the year. As child living in Mojave Desert, winter was the one time of year when you could count on temperatures being comfortable. Later, as a teen growing up in the Seattle area, winter seemed to bring with it the solitude I often craved.

Now, as I near another birthday, winter seems more a time of endings. As one ages, endings take on a more serious meaning, a greater sense of finality. Perhaps that is why I don't enjoy winter as much as I once did. Or perhaps it is simply that I am less able to deal with the cold. Either way, winter seems to me more stark than the other seasons, which is beautiful in its own way, but a month of it is enough for me.

Beyond that, however, I suspect one reason I don't enjoy winter as much as I used to has to do with the increased commercialization of the holidays and the massive sales pushes that begin to take place as soon as Labor Day has come and gone.

This is the time of year for doom and gloom stories about the retail sector, as so many businesses have come to rely on the holiday shopping season for the bulk of their yearly earnings. The phrase dealing with putting one's eggs all in one basket comes to mind.

The commercial aspect of the holidays has long overshadowed other aspects. For me, though, the holidays are more about getting together with friends and family. Perhaps if I can hold on to that aspect of things winter won't seem quite so gloomy.

#79 - Thoughts on Solitude and Loneliness

2010-10-10T22:52:00.000-06:00

Over the last three days, I've had the chance to spend some time alone. Teresa and Christopher flew to Alabama to visit Teresa's family, and I took the dog, hitched up the fifth wheel, and headed to Anderson Ranch Reservoir, about a two-hour drive from Boise.

I parked the trailer roughly 50-feet from the water's edge. Thursday, I had the beach to myself. The sun was out, and I was able to enjoy the quiet. I pulled out a chair and sat by the water, reading. Oliver and I also got in a nice long walk along the shoreline. All in all, a very nice day spent relaxing and contemplating.

Friday, I gained some neighbors, who parked their rigs about 50-yards away. Without knowing it, I had apparently parked in the spot where the best fishing from the shore was to be had.

With their arrival also came a change in the weather. It got cloudier, breezier, and cooler. And the solitude became a little lonely. I started thinking about Teresa and Christopher and wishing they were with me. I actually began to think about cutting my stay short. Instead, I fired up the generator and watched a movie.

Saturday was even cooler and windier and more overcast than Friday, and I was seriously considering whether to pack up and head home. It felt a little like being stuck inside on a rainy day except there was no one to do anything with. Just as I was about to decide to head home, the skies cleared and with them, my mood. I decided to stay another night.

Sunday morning, I was still trying to decide whether to pull out or stay another night (since I also have Monday off). I started to do dishes and then realized I was actually packing stuff away. My decision was made.

It was a beautiful day for the drive - sunny but not too warm. Part of me considered staying, as I would have had my section of the beach all to myself again, but more practical concerns (waste water storage among them) convinced me I made the right decision.

Two years ago I would not have risked making this trip alone. I'm glad I did. Having Oliver along certainly helped, but I learned I am able to enjoy time alone.

I also learned how important weather can be to one's mood, especially when you are out on your own. When the sun was shining, I was able to enjoy the solitude, but when it was cloudy and windy or even raining and I had to stay inside, I felt isolated, which is, I suppose, the negative side of solitude.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, I learned how much having Teresa and Christopher along means to me. Even when I crave some solitude or alone time, knowing they are there and available gives me an incredible security blanket and the knowledge that I am not alone, at least not in the sense of being lonely.

#78 - If a Blog Falls in the Forest . . .

2010-09-16T06:47:00.000-06:00

I have found myself wondering lately with more frequency whether anyone "out there" reads the ramblings I post here from time to time. I would like to think so, but the image that comes to mind is of thoughts drifting aimlessly across the blogosphere, much like a seed drifting on the wind, only to end up on barren ground.

On the one hand, it is not important that anyone else read what I post here. After all, I write mainly for me, often as a form of self-therapy, always as a means of giving expression to that part of me that needs to attempt to be creative.

On the other hand, it would be nice to think that dozens of people read these posts and find themselves amused, engaged, challenged, or even angered by what they read. The realist in me (or pessimist, if you prefer) does not really allow for that possibility, but the more optimistic part of me, small though it is, thinks it could happen.

However, I probably would never know. The number of comments posted in the nearly three years I've been blogging still number in single digits. That tells me either that no one is reading or that no one is interested enough in what they read here to say anything about it.

Either way, I imagine I'll continue to blog as long as it continues to fulfill my need for self-expression in ways that my occasional attempts at writing song lyrics do not. The situation does, however, beg the question similar to that of the tree in the forest: if a blog is posted and no one reads it, is it truly a blog and was it ever really written?

#77 - Missing Old Friends

2010-09-10T22:45:00.000-06:00

I find myself feeling a bit melancholy tonight. Teresa is sleeping, and Christopher is watching television, and I am alone with my thoughts. Checking out Facebook tonight, I am drawn to thoughts of old friends.

In a sense, I suppose I use the term friend a bit loosely. When I knew most of the people who crowd my thoughts, I didn't really know how to be a friend. I didn't know how to invite them into my life or how to be a part of theirs.

So I guess what I am really drawn to is thoughts of lost opportunities. I find myself thinking of people I once worked with, people I wish I had known better at the time. I also find myself thinking of people who slipped out of my life.

Of course, things change, and change is not always bad. If things had not changed, if I had not kept moving from place - running from something or in search of something - I would never have met Teresa, and we wouldn't have Christopher. But even good change can be tinged with a bit of pain.

Facebook has allowed me to reconnect with a good many people I knew in my younger days. At the same time, it has shown me a glimpse of what might have been if I had been more approachable or better able to connect with those around me.

Connection is a big word with my therapist, both making connections and dealing with those connections that have been broken. Making connections is something I have struggled with my entire life. I'm sure she would suggest that connections broken early on have something to do with that.

I never got close or let others get close to me. In a way, it is a variation on the old Groucho Marx line, "I would never belong to any club that would have me as a member." In a way, I applied that to friendships.

In some sense, Facebook has allowed me to turn back time, but most of the friendships are filtered through distance in addition to time. In a way, I suppose that makes sense. When I was younger, my relationships were all filtered through emotional distance. Now the distance is physical. I'm not sure one feels any better than the other.

I hope in the coming days any of you reading this will let your friends know that you are thinking of them. I just did.

#76 - The Trouble With Labels

2010-08-30T22:40:00.000-06:00

My wife, Teresa, is a fan of the late Jesuit priest and psychotherapist Anthony de Mello. Before his death in 1987, de Mello wrote a number of books and led a number of retreats around the world, one of which was videotaped in its entirety and available for viewing on the Internet.

One thing de Mello said which has resonated with me since I first heard it is the notion that labels are a dangerous thing. As de Mello argued, once you put a label on something all meaningful discussion about that thing ceases. Looking at the current state of affairs today around the world, I would argue he is right.

Labels do not allow us to find commonality with one another; they tend to put us at odds with one another. We have liberals and conservatives, Democrats and Republicans, capitalists and socialists, and so forth.

Labels these days tend to produce extremes. Once you are labeled as a liberal, everything you say is suspect in the minds of conservatives. And vice versa. Tell someone you are Muslim and you are immediately a potential terrorist. If you are a Republican, you are suddenly an obstructionist in the eyes of many.

None of these positions are conducive to meaningful dialogue about the problems and the opportunities facing our nation and our world. If we come from a position of antagonism, how can we ever hope to find those areas where we might actually agree?

We are more than the sum of the labels placed upon us. For instance, a conservative friend and I have discussed, even argued at times about the need for health care reform in America. We agreed that certain things could be improved, even if we did not agree on the best approach for doing so. We could not have found any common ground on such a contentious subject had we not been able to get beyond our labels.

The problem is that the labels are reinforced every day by those who would foster divisiveness and dissension and who profit from it. They have no desire to see meaningful discussion on any topic and resort to name-calling and innuendo in order to prevent serious discussion and debate.

The current political climate in America and the lack of meaningful action on many issues in Washington reflects the damage that is done when we allow ourselves to be labeled and we resort to labeling others. The only label that matters is human being. We all of us have that in common, and it is that common ground from which we should begin to approach, address, and debate the issues affecting us and our world.

#75 - Release the Hounds

2010-08-28T00:59:00.000-06:00

About a month ago now, our son Christopher managed to somehow dislocate his knee while getting into bed. Since then, he has been on a regimen of strengthening exercises every other day and instructions to ride his bike every day.

Because of his autism and his tendency to avoid doing things if he doesn't have to, Teresa or I would accompany him on these 10-15 minute rides. Lately, we've both started going with him, and we bring along the fourth member of our family, our beagle Oliver.

The buildup is fun to watch. As soon as Oliver sees us changing or putting on tennis shoes, he knows something is up; the game is afoot, so to speak. Oliver does not act this way in the morning as we are getting ready for work. Somehow, he knows this is different.

Even before we head to the door, Oliver begins to get a little excited. He starts walking faster, almost like an expectant father pacing. The tail starts wagging a little faster. And as soon as we get near the leash, look out.

I take Oliver with me, and Teresa rides along with Christopher. My bike is a Bike E, in its day a sort of entry-level recumbent bike. I describe it to people as sort of an aluminum beam with handlebars, tires, and a seat with a back.

Because of its design, it sits a little lower to the ground than a traditional bike. This gives me a little extra reaction time and makes it a bit easier to get my feet down and prevent falling should Oliver suddenly decide to take off in a direction other than the one I'm trying to ride.

The way it works is that I wrap the handle end of the six-foot leash around my left hand several times - I find I have better control with a shorter amount of exposed leash - and hold my arm out to the side to keep Oliver away from the bike wheels while I steer the bike with my right hand. Not the best approach, perhaps, but it seems to work, and I have yet to think of a better approach.

Once I start the bike moving in the direction we plan to go, Oliver takes off. For a few blocks, my bike is Oliver-powered, I don't have to pedal at all. If I close my eyes (not a good idea on a moving bicycle), I can almost picture myself guiding a sled in Alaska's Iditarod race.

For some reason, Oliver's running - with his body slightly angled as if going around a curve - reminds me of the greyhounds I would occasionally watch race when I lived and worked in Rapid City, SD. But I also see a sheer enthusiasm as he goes all out, running down the street.

Eventually, I have to slow my pedaling down a little as Oliver starts to tire a little. But he gets a chance to get outside, something he loves, and he gets some badly needed exercise. Each time we go, it takes him less time to recover afterward. Plus, there is something really remarkable about the sheer joy and power I see when I glance to my left and watch him running. I see him come truly alive, and sometimes I start to feel that way a little bit, too.

#74 - Getting Off the Political Merry-Go-Round

2010-08-23T22:27:00.000-06:00

When I was younger, I used to be very much into politics. As the Editorial Editor for my high school newspaper, I came out in support of the then very real possibility of gas rationing. This was easy for me as I did not have a car. I also wrote about censorship and book burning involving a school board in Kansas.

I would often play devil's advocate; it rarely mattered the subject. I enjoyed the exchange, the banter, the give and take. It made me feel alive.

I say all of this as prelude to discussion of some of my recent experiences on Facebook. I have one Facebook friend, a former colleague in another life and another career who often posts political items, items that to me seem incendiary and designed to arouse anger, passion, and debate. All too often, I take the bait and find myself arguing as one self-proclaimed progressive against a wall of conservative thought.

Every time I allow myself to get sucked into one of these debates, I tell myself it will be the last time. I find myself exasperated that they won't even listen to or consider an opposing view, and I am sure they feel the same way about me.

So why do I continue? I suppose it must be the remaining idealist in me, though these opposing and often intolerant voices are slowly beating that idealism out of me. They aren't changing my views merely helping me to realize that politics is ultimately all a game.

I am rapidly concluding that governments - Republican, Democrat, or even Communist or Socialist - don't really care about me. Governments are about two things, when it comes to it - power and control, and they cater to those who can help them get it and keep it. If it were different, the rich would not be getting richer while the poor get nowhere, and corporations would not be seen as having the same freedom of speech (backed by 1000s of times the money) as individuals.

This realization is likely why many argue for term limits in government. Sadly, I think all that will do is increase the number of people who grab for more power in a shorter period of time by creating a bit of a revolving door effect.

None of this is helped by the fact that the two major political parties seem unable and certainly are unwilling to work together to accomplish anything of major benefit or importance. I believe this will only get worse after the November elections. Since the minority party typically gains seats in midterm elections, I think we can all look forward to two years of infighting, back-biting, and legislative stalemate.

So, I am going to try to give up what has long been an intellectual passion of mine: politics. For me, it may well prove to be as difficult as giving up smoking is for others. But I managed to do that once upon a time, so this may not be as hard as I think.

I have reached the conclusion that life is too short, and there are other things I'd much rather be doing that arguing with people I often don't know and usually don't agree with. Listening to music, for instance. Solving a challenging crossword puzzle. Reading a good novel.

Top of that list would be taking the trailer out for a weekend somewhere, anywhere. Besides, I feel much more alive sitting outside my trailer in a campground overlooking a river or a lake than I ever feel arguing political points on Facebook. I challenge anyone to prove otherwise.

#73 - Sensory Overload

2010-08-01T21:25:00.000-06:00

I'm sitting here after an evening at Chuck E. Cheese, and the noises are beginning to recede from my head. On Facebook, I half-jokingly posited the question as to what a visit to Chuck E. Cheese would be like for someone who was ADHD. I can't imagine it would be good.

Everywhere you turn you are bombarded with lights and sounds. Upon our arrival tonight, the noise level was almost akin to being in the front row at a rock concert. Mercifully, someone turned down the sound about 15 minutes or so after we arrived.

But those 15 minutes were an experience for us with Christopher. Because of his autism, he is already somewhat susceptible to sensory overload. (Bright fluorescent lights in particular - like those we find at Costco - seem to have a powerful effect.) Couple that with having gone several hours without eating, and it isn't a pretty site. (At that point, Christopher gets what a bit squirrely, as Teresa has termed it, and he does remind one of a squirrel, scurrying here and there.) Christopher was holding tight, first to Teresa, then to me, hanging on for dear life, and it was touch and go whether we would stay.

However, once Christopher had a little pizza in him, things improved and we were able to somewhat enjoy the rest of our stay. The pizza was okay, but a bit lacking in the sauce department. At one point, I held up a piece with visible sauce and joked to Teresa that I had gotten the slice with all the sauce.

Chuck E. Cheese also seems to spare all expense when it comes to beer selection. The two, count 'em two, taps said "Beer" and "Beer". Turns out that Beer 1 is Bud Light and Beer 2 is Budweiser. I guess they don't want to overwhelm customers any more than they already are.

Obviously, children are Chuck E. Cheese's primary demographic, and they reel them in with all sorts of games - from simple games for the youngest to military strategy games for teens and beyond. Games, are also where I suspect the Chuckster makes most of his money.

You spend $5.00 or $10.00 or more for tokens in hopes of winning tickets that you then redeem for prizes that are worth less than the money you spent on tokens. No matter how good you are at the games, judging from the prize selection I saw, Chuck is in no danger of losing money on a single customer.

Still, I suppose it is a pleasant enough diversion for families, although I don't plan a return visit any time soon unless invited by someone else (which is how we came to be there in the first place). For some families, I suspect a trip to Chuck E. Cheese may be the only family interaction they have and then, perhaps, only long enough for their pleading son or daughter to beg then to buy more game tokens. As for me, I'll take a weekend with the family in our fifth wheel over a visit to Chuck E. Cheese every time.

#72 - Reunifying Heart, Mind, and Spirit

2010-07-16T21:45:00.002-06:00

"Oh, give me land, lots of land under starry skies above. Don't fence me in." - Cole Porter

Recently, I was catching up with a friend and former co-worker via e-mail. As friends who haven't spoken for a while often do, we talked about what we had been up to of late.

One of the things I have been up to is getting out with the family in our fifth-wheel trailer every weekend we can. So far this year, we have managed nearly 30 nights with at least 12 or 13 more planned.

In mentioning that, I reflected on the feeling that I am more outgoing and more social when we are in a campground with our trailer, than we are in our own neighborhood. I put forth the notion that at least part of that may be due to the fact that there are usually few if any fences inside a campground.

In a campground you and your neighbors are truly neighbors in a much more communal way than in any kind of residential development or neighborhood. On our last outing, we met a nice couple from nearby Nampa and ended up sitting and talking for an hour or two. I don't really see that happening in most neighborhoods.

There is, of course, a shared common bond of being outdoors, but people are outdoors in their back yards all the time, and I doubt if they talk to anyone but their spouse or children or pet. I think the fences have a lot to do with that.

Fences serve a number of functions. They help to keep your pets from invading the yard of another. They also help to delineate property lines. In other words, they keep others out. They also keep you in, to some extent.

Fences compartmentalize us and separate us and perhaps isolate us as well. They make it easier for shy people to keep to themselves. And of course, they protect our privacy.

In our homes behind our fenced yards, we are a very private people. I don't get to know you; you don't get to know me. We shut each other out and remain complete strangers. We become compartmentalized, in a way.

In a campground, the lack of fences removes one barrier to conversation and interaction. We are taken out of our fenced compartments and put into the mix with others who have been taken out of their compartments. The setting and the circumstances are more conducive to interaction, and as a result, we often find ourselves interacting with others, others we might never talk to if they were on the other side of the fence from us.

America, especially the West, espouses the notion of "rugged individualism." Privacy is an important piece of that concept. Yet we are also at some level a communal people. The Declaration of Independence, after all, begins with the phrase "We the people," not "I, one person."

Fences serve to remove a part of us from our inner being. When I am in a campground with my family and with no fences, I rediscover and reconnect with that missing piece. I find myself more at ease, more at peace, and more at one with my surroundings. I feel more whole.

I'm not necessarily suggesting we all tear down the fences around our yards. But it might be a good idea if we stepped out from behind those fences (physical, mental, and emotional) once in a while and looked at the world and the people beyond our fences. You might feel a little lighter if you do. I know I do.

#71 - Working Toward Simplicity in a Complex World, Pt. 2

2010-06-23T22:39:00.000-06:00

In my last entry, I wrote of our desire to one day sell the house and move from 2,000 square feet to roughly 300-350 square feet. Accomplishing that will mean ridding ourselves of stuff: things we have accumulated over the years out of desire, perceived necessity, or perhaps because of some empty place inside that we want to fill.

So that means downsizing, which means ridding ourselves of most of our books (I'm keeping my America's Test Kitchen Best Recipes cookbook, though), figurines, furniture, large tools, even some of our clothing. Yet, if the last several months are any indication, I don't think we will feel deprived.

When we take the trailer out, we simply do not have room for everything we seem to need in order to live our lives at home. And I don't think we miss it. In the trailer, we have places to sleep, places to sit and read or watch movies, a kitchen, and a bathroom with a shower. Simple yet adequate.

We also have the capability to sit or cook outside. And when we do sit outside, we have the prospect of a different front (or back, depending on your perspective) yard every time we go on an outing. While not as landscaped, these yards usually surpass anything we would see at our own home, and we don't have to do yard work!

In addition, we usually eat better, sleep better, and get more physical activity when we take the RV out than we do when we stay home. Not only that, but I'm convinced we use fewer resources during a weekend in our fifth wheel than we do during a weekend at home.

Showers in particular use much less water, simply due to the fact that the hot water heater only has a six gallon capacity, requiring conservation and a little planning. We also use less water when we do dishes. And because our trailer is 30 amp, we use less electricity simply because we can't plug in and run everything at the same time.

The fact that Teresa and I both have a bit of a nomadic spirit helped us to gravitate toward the idea of the full-time RV life and made the idea of living in a fifth wheel or a motor home seem also a no-brainer for us. The fact that we have become a little less materialistic as we get older also helps.

Money (and caring for Christopher) may dictate when we can make this transition from a sticks-and-bricks (as full-time RVers refer to houses) life to RV living. I'm confident that no matter how much money we have or don't have, we will find a way to make the move. I've read too many stories about people from all income levels who have made such a move to doubt that we can do it, too. When the time comes, I know we'll be ready. now to start packing those boxes.

#70 - Working Toward Simplicity in a Complex World, Pt. 1

2010-06-16T22:19:00.001-06:00

Teresa, Christopher, and I recently came back from one of the many weekends we hope to spend this year in our new to us fifth wheel trailer. Odd as it might sound to many in our super-sized, bigger is better world, Teresa and I seriously talk about and contemplate one day leaving our 2,000 square foot home (increasingly small by American standards) and moving into a 300-350 square foot fifth wheel or motor home.

One of the difficulties we will have to overcome is the problem of what to do with all that stuff. Like most Americans, I suspect, we have accumulated assorted treasures, necessities, creature comforts, tools, etc., most of which we will have to leave behind as they will not fit in the average or even the super-sized trailer or motor home.

That raises the question of where to start. When we look at the big picture and see all of the stuff we have (and we have less than many), it seems as if we could never get rid of enough to enable us to fulfill our dream of living in an RV, at least not without a bulldozer to come in and ruthlessly shovel most of the items away.

We are, I suppose, lucky in that we do not have a great deal of heirlooms or family keepsakes to have to store or find a place for in the RV. From my side of the equation, we have a set of flatware that was a wedding gift from my mother. That, we could use in the RV if we decided to keep it. I also have a few drawings and painting my mother did that I might like to keep. Those, we could rotate and use for decoration in the RV. Maybe.

Teresa has some family pictures, which we have talked about digitizing. She has also been worked to convert a number of songs from the many albums we still own to mp3 so that we can keep the music without the need to keep the albums.

That still leaves a great deal to weed out and rid ourselves of. When I was younger - especially after I went back to school - I became an avid book buyer, to the point where we had shelves full of books in several rooms of the house. I obtained them (some bought, some free) either with an eye toward graduate school or with the thought I would like to read them some day. In most cases, I never have.

Since we moved to Idaho seven years ago, I have managed to rid myself of four or five boxes of books, donating them to the local library. However, I have several hundred still to go through, knowing I cannot possibly keep them and pursue a full-time life in an RV. As any full-time RVer will tell you, books add a lot of weight to your RV and quickly eat up precious cargo carrying capacity. So, nearly all of the books must go, although I plan to keep a few. Deciding which few I will keep is what keeps me from getting rid of most of the collection at this point.

Then there is the garage, crammed full of stuff I'm not even sure we know we have. In that sense, we are much like any average American family. Here in Idaho, most new houses are built with three-car garages, two-thirds of which usually seems to be filled with anything but a car. That, I suppose, makes us a bit different from many. First, we get by with a two-car garage. Second, we can actually park one car in the garage.

Like most Americans, though, we have bought into the consumerism culture, hook, line, and sinker. We buy, I'm sure, things we don't need or things we think we need only to come across it on a shelf or in a drawer a few years later and wonder why we bought it and lamenting the fact that we spent money on it.

Unlike a house, though, even the biggest RV has a very limited amount of space for stuff. Yet we find we have plenty of stuff in the RV and we don't feel ourselves deprived. If anything, we feel like we have more of everything, something I'll explore more in another entry.

#69 - Questions From Out of Left Field

2010-06-08T23:12:00.000-06:00

From time to time, odd things occur to me and obscure questions pop into my head. Hence the name of this blog. This is one of those times.

For instance, must a woman who rides a motorcycle have children in order to be a "motorcycle mama"?

If a motorcyclist is also known as a biker, what is a bicyclist also known as?

Why is it that I always seem to need to use the bathroom most right after I've gone to bed?

Now that we have so much choice on television, thanks to cable and satellite, why is it I can't never find anything I'm interested in watching?

If love is a battlefield, what's love got to do with it? And who did write the book of love anyway?

If Elvis Presley was the King of Rock and Roll, James Brown the Godfather of Soul, and Michael Jackson the Prince of Pop, what does that make Liberace? And where does that leave Prince in music's royal family?

How is possible that a country which put the first man on the moon also produced the Ford Pinto?

If common sense is so hard to find in people, what makes it common?

Why is it that a child who's grounded is in trouble while an adult who's grounded is generally respected?

If we actually paid people based on the value of their jobs to society, how much would the CEO of BP owe us?

Finally, if a person writes a blog and nobody reads it, is it still a blog? Or is it simply a diary? Okay, I'll stop. For now.

#68 - Something About Nothing

2010-05-24T21:48:00.000-06:00

I realized tonight it has been three weeks since my last entry, so I thought I ought to write something. Like all great writers (so I'm told, not being one myself), I've perhaps been suffering of late from writer's block.

Or rather, I haven't been able to come up with a theme for an entry. So I have decided to write a little something about nothing. That is, I am going to write a bit of stream of consciousness about what has been going on in the last three weeks.

For a week or so, Spring teased us here in Idaho and acted as if it had finally decided to make its entrance, somewhat like a diva arriving fashionable late to her own party. Temperatures reached the upper 70s and low 80s, and we marked the occasion with a weekend at Bruneau Dunes State Park joining a local chapter of the Good Sams Club.

About a month and a half early, we had made the decision to join this chapter of the national RV group because we decided that sometimes it would be nice to go out with a group, and none of our friends seem all that much into camping or RVing.

We're kind of the youngsters in the group, but they all seem like nice people, and they seem for the most part more alive when we are out in a campground somewhere. Which is also how I feel a good deal of the time.

We've made two campouts with the group and plan to make at least three more. It's nice to have that variety of occasionally joining a group and sometimes going it alone. Variety does spice things up a bit, if you recall the old quote.

Since that outing to Bruneau Dunes, winter has tried to reclaim its position of control over Idaho's weather. We actually had snow on Saturday and a couple of days of rain before that. It may not be global warming, but it sure is not normal.

On the subject of not being normal, I continue to wage my battle with my childhood demons. I do feel like I am winning that war, but the only war making slower progress might be the war in Afghanistan. Still, progress is progress, and knowing how long the demons have ruled my life, I realize victory will not be achieved overnight. Getting out in the RV helps me in that fight, so I am glad every time we are able to get out, and we try to do that often.

Something we maybe don't do enough is bathe our beagle, Oliver. Tonight, though, it was decided that he had gone long enough. Bathing the dog is a two person job because, unlike most dogs I've ever seen, Oliver does not like water - except to drink - and does not like getting wet. If he has to go to the bathroom but it's wet outside, he will hold it.

So, I tried to hold Oliver steady while Teresa bathed him. Afterward, we dried him as best we could, then got out of the way. If you ever want to see a dog imitate a bat out of hell, come to our house and watch Oliver after he has had a bath. I swear, in that state, Oliver could possibly outrun the horses at Churchill Downs.

Before that, we had decided to hook up an old DVD player to see if it still worked and could be used in place of the one now somewhat inoperable after the recent break-in of our trailer.

We set it up on the kitchen table and put in a DVD to test in. Then we got absorbed in the movie. (I'll admit it, it was "Mamma Mia," and I am a big ABBA fan.)

So, there we are, sitting in the kitchen, watching a movie. Also not normal but perhaps definitely us.

In between, I've had a chance to visit with a friend and former co-worker during his visit from Arizona. I've taken our truck back to the shop for the third time in three months. And I've argued a little politics on Facebook and tried to learn to enjoy each and every day instead of saving it all up for "someday."

Perhaps my title, "Something About Nothing," was a misnomer. Each item, in and of itself, might seem like nothing or at least like not much. Taken together, however, they add up to nothing less than life itself. And that is nothing if not something.

#67 - If I Were King

2010-05-03T21:17:00.000-06:00

I've been involved of late in a running Facebook debate generally about immigration reform and specifically about the Arizona immigration law. Facebook is probably not the ideal place for discussion matters of substance, but that is perhaps a debate for another time.

As part of that ongoing discussion, I was asked for my suggestions. I thought to myself, why stop at immigration reform. So, here are some of the things I would do if I were suddenly in charge. Not that anyone asked me about these other areas, of course.

1) Institute a tax credit for companies creating new jobs in America. The size of the credit would be based on the number of new, above minimum wage jobs the company creates, with extra credits going to those companies that create jobs in areas with unemployment rates above 10% and those companies creating new jobs in fields involving renewable resources.

Such a step would reward companies who step up to help the economy while leaving out those who seem intent merely on sending jobs overseas in order to boost profits.

2) Simplify America's income tax code. I would have two, maybe three tax rates, say 15 and 25% (or 10, 15, and 25%), with those having family incomes under $30,000 a year exempt and those with family incomes of $200,000 or more a year paying 25%. In addition, I would eliminate all tax deductions with the exception of allowing a deduction for charitable contributions for individuals of up to $5,000 or 5% of gross annual income, whichever is greater, without creating a negative tax balance. I would also leave the Earned Income Credit in place and perhaps expand it to include a scaled credit for child care for people earning up to $75,000 a year.

3) In line with that, I would create a tax credit for people who spend at least 100 hours a year in volunteer service.

4) Institute a 25% corporate income tax, again eliminating all deductions, with the exception of a deduction for charitable contributions of up to $1,000,000 or 2% of gross annual income, whichever is greater, again without creating a negative tax balance.

5) Institute a corporate tax credit for investment in infrastructure: new buildings, equipment, training programs, etc. of up to 25% of the cost. Companies would only be eligible to take such a credit once every five years.

6) Make all earned income subject to Social Security tax, with perhaps a sliding tax scale, say 2.5% on income up to $30,000 a year, 4.5% on income of $30,001 to $75,000 and the current 6.2% of income of $75,001 or more. Rich people collect Social Security regardless of their need; I think they can afford to help fund it a little better.

7) Speaking of Social Security, I would again make the Social Security fund off limits for all uses except the funding of Social Security payments.

8) Since the Facebook discussion had to do with immigration reform, here is what I would do in that area: Impose a fine on businesses caught and convicted of hiring illegal immigrants. A first offense would net a fine of $1,000,000 or 1% of gross revenues, whichever is less. A second offense would result in a fine of $5,000,000 or 5% of gross annual revenues, whichever is less. A third offense results in the seizure of the company's assets, a sort of corporate "three strikes and your out" program.

9) On the immigrant side of the equation, I would institute a temporary amnesty for any illegal immigrant, to last only for the extent of that person's application for citizenship. Under certain documented instances, such a person might be allowed to continue to work (if the person is the sole support for a family that includes one or more underage children, for instance) while the application process is underway.

Such people would not be denied citizenship solely on the basis of entering the country illegally. However, their fingerprints would be taken and, if they are caught re-entering the country after having an application for citizenship rejected for other reasons (previous criminal record or caught committing a crime in this country), they would be automatically deported with no right of appeal.

10) Finally, I would push to have a voting Representative for the District of Columbia. My reasoning is that, as things now stand, residents of Washington, D.C. are subject to "taxation without representation," one of the concepts that helped to galvanize the colonists prior to the American Revolution.

I'm sure I could come up with some other ideas if I were king, but that's a start.

#66 - Thoughts on Success

2010-04-15T23:28:00.000-06:00

Not to get too political, but in reading any number of conservative blogs and comments on various news stories one gets the impression that hard work and drive are all it takes to be successful and that anyone can do it.

But we can't all be successful, can we? Don't there have to be unsuccessful people against whom the "successful" can measure themselves to know they are in fact successes?

What exactly does it mean to be successful? There are any number of answers to that question, the vast majority of which seem to involve money at some level.

Success seems to be measured by car you drive, the house you live in, the amount of money you make, the toys you have. By those standards, I guess I am moderately successful. But it wasn't always so.

By those yardsticks, most of my life could be written off as a failure. In my first career in broadcasting, my income never topped $25,000 a year. I made enough to pay rent, eat, and to eventually pay off my student loans from college. Not exactly a rags to riches story.

Thanks in large part to the financial prudence of my wife Teresa (the real brains of the outfit) I might be considered a little more successful these days. I live in a nice house (not a McMansion but big enough for us) and drive what I think is a pretty nice truck, used for pulling our one toy, our fifth wheel trailer.

Yet there are, I suspect, people with smaller bank accounts than many of us whom I would consider more successful than I. They have found the one thing I have struggled to obtain for most of my life - a real joy or passion for living.

Their success is measured in ways having little to do with dollar signs or the things money can buy (sorry Madison Avenue): working in a job or field they truly love regardless of what it pays. Still having a touch of the reckless abandon they possessed in childhood. The ability to laugh openly, cry freely, live and love simply. The ability to marvel in a sunset and in the artistic ability required to paint one. Being happy in their own skin and in the place where they are.

Those are the types of small successes I am working toward. I am not consistently there, but I have moments. Turning out a tasty loaf of fresh-baked bread or preparing a meal that others enjoy are two of the ways I measure success these days. Finding something to smile about is another.

And so, I find myself back at my earlier question. We can't all be successful, can we? Well, maybe we can, but only if we stop measuring success the way an accountant might measure a company's financial solvency. Here's to success.

#65 - Easter Reflections

2010-04-05T22:28:00.002-06:00

It is Monday evening as I write this, the Monday after Easter. Many are thinking about the just concluded national championship game in college basketball. Me, I am thinking about our just concluded weekend at Bruneau Dunes State Park, about 90-minutes southeast of Boise.

The dunes are a unique geological formation in that the wind patterns work in such a matter that the sand dune formations remain virtually the same year in, year out.

The dunes are, in essence timeless, a characteristic I try to apply to our trips, whether they last a few days or a week or more. Although we may bring a watch or a clock, we don't spend much time watching them or counting down toward anything.

I initially was going to call our trip a camping excursion, but I know some say it isn't camping unless you pitch a tent and roll out a sleeping bag on the hard ground. So I won't call it camping.

What I will call it is getting into my comfort zone. I find I am generally more comfortable and more relaxed when I am parked in a campground, even as opposed to relaxing at home. There are many reasons for that, I'm sure, but I suspect one of them is that a state of calm and serenity exists, and is even imposed by my surroundings.

Any chance I have to get away from the demands of everyday life, I want to take it. Sure, some of the demands are the same when we are set up in some campground, but they seem to take on a more timeless aspect. Most things don't have to be done within a certain time frame. Time itself is measured in terms of today and tomorrow and not in terms of minutes and hours.

One of the things I like best about hitching up the trailer and going out of town is that I get to engage in one of my favorite activities, cooking. I don't mean the "it's 5:30, I just got home from work and need to fix dinner" kind of cooking. I mean the "I have as much time as I want to spend, so what would I like to make" kind of cooking.

So, our Easter weekend at Bruneau Dunes meant chicken and dumplings, home-baked bread, ribs, and dutch oven pizza. And, for Easter morning breakfast, a chance to work on presentation, with an arrangement of cottage cheese, sliced apple, and a hard boiled egg that I titled Venus Fly trap.

Every time we hitch up the trailer and head out somewhere, we manage to combine the best aspects of our home life with the splendor of creation. We read, watch movies, hike, take pictures, and basically spend a good deal more time together. This weekend was no exception.

It was yet another wonderful weekend away from the day to day. I've come to expect nothing less from our excursions, which is why I always look forward to them.

#64 - The Best Medicine

2010-03-30T20:34:00.001-06:00

With the ongoing debate regarding health care reform, I originally intended to weigh in with my opinion. Then I decided to take a different approach and explore one of the best things we can do for our health: laugh.

As the old proverb says, "Laughter is the best medicine." Who among us has not immediately felt a little better after a good laugh? Unless, of course, you start laughing while drinking a soda or some other liquid which then begins to exit from places it was never meant to travel. In that case, everyone else feels better after a good laugh at your expense.

Here are some notable quotes regarding laughter:

"Laughter is part of the human survival kit." - David Nathan
"Laughter is the shortest distance between two people." - Victor Borge
"Laughter is a tranquilizer with no side effects." - Arnold Glasgow
"Seven days without laughter make one weak." - Joel Goodman
"Laughter is an instant vacation." - Milton Berle
"the most wasted of all days is one without laughter." - e.e. cummings

I got to thinking about the power of laughter after reading replies to a Facebook post I made, in jest, wondering whether people understood my sense of humor. I decided to write this after reflecting on the heated and borderline hateful exchanges that take place on a seemingly daily basis between those on the left and those on the right. What these people need is a good pie in the face.

To paraphrase e.e. cummings, there have been many wasted days in my life, days when I did not laugh. Those days do not occur as often these days. That is partly due to having a five-year old beagle with the spirit of a puppy. Part of it is simply due to learning to see the humor around me.

Laughter has a number of benefits. It lowers blood pressure. It increases coordination of brain functions. It can even serve as a more enjoyable alternative to exercise. One doctor says 20 seconds of unrestrained laughter has as much benefit for the heart as three minutes of hard rowing. Laughter is no laughing matter.

Then again, it is. I find my days and evenings are more enjoyable if, at some point during the day, I find something (or someone) that makes me laugh. I daresay that a great many of the issues confronting us would seem less daunting and easier to solve if we could find a sliver of humor in them or if we simply took a laughter break.

Research also indicates that laughter increases production of endorphins, the body's natural painkillers. As Groucho Marx once said, "A clown is like an aspirin, only he works twice as fast." So make a point to laugh, even if it's at my expense. I don't mind.

#63 - Random Musings

2010-03-21T22:26:00.006-06:00

I don't really have a specific topic, but I realized I had not posted in a while, so I hope you'll forgive this series of brief and random reflections.

All weekends should be three-day weekends. Two days just doesn't seem enough time to recover and unwind from the previous week. It also is not enough of a buffer before the start of the week to come.

To me, it doesn't get much better than a Saturday afternoon sitting in a nice wooded campground, enjoying a nice glass of wine or a cold beer. Unless, of course, it is a Saturday evening in a nice wooded campground, enjoyed a nice glass of wine and a juicy grilled steak.

Television would be much better if it were a little less "real." Reality TV? Who are they kidding? What is so real about about putting a bunch of strangers and making them perform a number of artificially contrived challenges? And how many people do you know who can work out six to eight hours a day every day to drop 200 pounds of excess weight?

Anyone who claims insight into the will of God is either a con artist or is delusional. I now believe that no one faith has a monopoly on the Truth and that two people can have fundamentally different beliefs yet both be right - and wrong - at the same time.

I am discouraged by the name-calling and bickering that passes for political debate these days. Perhaps if we could find a way to concentrate of the ways in which we are alike instead of focusing on our differences we might better be able to find solutions to the issues our modern world faces.

Could it be that ignorance truly is bliss. I find I am much more peaceful on those days when I do not read the news or the political ramblings of others. I am much more at ease when I do not take the bait and respond to those with whom I disagree, for they cannot hear me anyway.

When I was younger, I loved to talk politics and to even argue politics with others. These days, I love to cook and take the trailer out for a weekend. Somehow, I think I am much better off.

Out of Control on Memory Lane

2010-03-02T23:12:00.003-07:00

Since creating a Facebook account several months ago, I have been traveling back and forth through my past, reconnecting at least superficially with people I knew and worked with in my other life as a television reporter and later news producer.

I have found people from various places I worked: Rapid City, SD; Lafayette, LA; Kalispell, MT; Huntsville, AL. It has been an amazing journey down memory lane, but there are time it seems I am traveling a bit out of control. Tonight was one of those nights.

While checking in on Facebook tonight, I came across a Facebook group created for people who work or worked at KEVN-TV in Rapid City, my first news job. While looking through the photo album posted, I came across some very familiar faces from my time there in the 1980s.

Commenting on some of the photos, I said that time was one of the happiest in my life, even though I was working for a fairly low salary. (I started in 1983 at the princely sum of $9,200 a year.) Filtered through the time span of 25 years, I remember those days fondly. Looking at the photos also brought back some not so good memories.

In those days, I had a hard time making real friends and getting close to people. I suppose you could say I lacked the skill or the knack. I'm sure I alternated between trying to hard to make people like me and trying hard to act like I didn't care whether they liked me.

Part of it, I think, at least in those days, was a sense that I didn't really fit in with the rest of the staff. I don't know if any other members of the news staff felt the same way, but I felt at times unqualified and like an impostor. I had no college degree and no real background or training in journalism.

I got into television news because I liked to write and wanted to do so professionally. That is also the reason I eventually moved behind the camera as a news producer and the reason I left the business in 1993, after other facets of the job began to dominate the writing aspect.

Despite the personal difficulties I had in those days, I have very fond memories of Rapid City and of the people I worked with. I remember having a Fiat Strada with plastic interior door handles that broke off one winter because it was so cold.

I remember trying to get back up to the TV station one snowy December day and having to help push the car through a snow drift. I also remember a certain co-worked getting up on the table in a bar after his first experience (several glasses in the making) with a Long Island Ice Tea.

I remember doing a story on the still unfinished Crazy Horse monument, hanging off the side of the mountain by a rope, with only the guide's strength of grip between me and death. The whole time, I remember worrying not about dying but about dropping and breaking the then-new camera I had been allowed to use to shoot the story. The camera got back safely.

Most of all, I remember the great people I worked with and feel a deep sadness that I did not try harder to do a better job of staying in touch with them. I find myself wondering where they are now and hoping they might remember those days as fondly as I do.

The Older I get

2010-02-25T23:07:00.004-07:00

When I was a kid, I was a bit out of the ordinary. I really enjoyed politics and political discussions. And I loved political arguments.

When I was younger, such arguments seemed to be about the merits of a position and the reasons for that position. This new century, coming as it does in the midst of this so-called Information Age, has seen a change in such arguments and not for the better.

The Information Age, bringing with it almost instantaneous access to any kind of information and the 24-hour news cycle has all but killed true political debate and with it thoughtful reflection. Instead, reactions are nearly as instant as the stories they respond to.

We have become a knee-jerk nation. Instead of truly considering and debating positions, our political leaders and their followers call each other liars, morons, and sometimes worse. I'm not surprised that nothing gets done on what many see as the major issues of our day: health care, immigration, the economy.

There seem to be fewer and fewer reasoned voices on either the left or the right. Because of that, the party in power is doomed to failure from the moment they take power. Every two or four years, I think the pendulum will swing back in the opposite direction, and both major parties will be so dizzy from the constant shifting, they won't be able to clear their heads long enough to get anything done, at least nothing worthwhile.

When I was in my 20s, I had a friend call me a radical and say that I would get more conservative once I got older. I don't think I have except when it comes to my view of the prospects of government accomplishing anything.

I have become very disillusioned about our government, primarily because they always seem to talk about doing something and then fail to follow through and actually do it.

Sadly, I don't think either major party has a recipe for success. Government for government's sake (what those on the right might argue the Democrats are all about) is not the answer. However, the less is more, hands-off and abdicate all responsibility approach of Republicans and Libertarians is no answer, either.

I have lived long enough not to trust the private sector to police itself or do anything to benefit the greater good. (Anyone remember Enron, Three Mile Island, the aftermath of the Exxon Valdez crash?) However, I have no confidence in government to act to rein in the excesses of private enterprise.

And so, in the midst of my middle age, I have lost interest in politics and political debate. The political era I reveled in during my youth is gone. Maybe it never really existed. Part of me wonders if perhaps it is finally time for us to admit that this Grand Experiment, as Alexis de Tocqueville called it in Democracy in America, has failed. Money talks, and the rest of us are silenced.

Scar Tissue

2010-02-18T21:16:00.004-07:00

In this week's session, my therapist and I talked about the emotional plateau I've been on for a little while now and the difficulty I've had truly freeing myself up emotionally.

I likened it to the notion of emotional scar tissue, tissue that is somewhat malformed yet is in some ways much stronger than the original tissue it replaced.

As I have thought back through the years to the memories of my childhood, there is a distinct line that seems to indicate where my childhood effectively ended. In pictures I have of me as a three-year old, I am laughing and smiling at the world around me. In pictures of me as a nine and ten-year old, the smile is gone, replaced by a sort of grimace intended to represent a smile but falling well short.

In-between, I all but shut down emotionally, only displaying emotional in the most intense moments, when I could no longer hold them in. It was a defense mechanism designed to protect me from what was going on around me, but it became a prison, a barrier that kept me from being able to fully engage with the world around me.

In discussing this with my therapist, I have come to think of it as something akin to my growth (emotional in this case) being stunted. I either forgot or never learned how to play with or interact with others. My world became what I read in books, heard in songs on the radio or stereo, or made up in the fantasy worlds I created in my head as a means of escape and of holding onto hope that there was a better life for me somewhere else.

I guess one could think of it as a sort of emotional fetal position which protected me, but the fallout of this was that I remained distant from people. I was not able to get close to them and did not let or encourage them to get close to me. Fear of rejection and of abandonment were at play here, the reason for which could fill another several posts, I suspect.

I recently connected on Facebook with someone I worked with many years ago in Lafayette, Louisiana. In an exchange of messages, she mentioned knowing that I was sad while I lived and worked there. And I was, although I foolishly thought I was hiding that so well from the world around me.

I was sad because I wanted to get close to people and have them get close to me. I was afraid at the same time that people would reject me once they knew what I was really like because I had tried so hard and for so long to suppress that. Beyond that, I lacked the emotional tools to encourage or develop meaningful friendships.

I have moved to a better place these days. My therapist says I can go back, through the scar tissue, to retrieve those emotions buried since childhood. I expressed the concern that in retrieving "good" emotions from that time I would end up bring back all of the "bad" emotions I tried so hard to bury. She says i can choose which emotions to bring into the present from that time, but a part of me still isn't sure.

In the meantime, I continue to inch forward, become more aware of who I really am, where I've been and where I want to go. Who I am is a sometimes funny, sometimes introspective, and sometimes absent-minded middle-age man who is learning to better enjoy life and learning to like himself a little better on the way to perhaps one day loving himself.

Where I have been is the emotional equivalent of bumper cars, a ride that has left me bumped and bruised and slightly impaired but still here. As Elton John sang, "I'm still standing."

Where I want to go is a place and time where I am able to freely express my emotions and not hold them in until there is no more room and they burst out in some sort of explosion. I hope to reach a place where I feel free to feel or not feel instead of sometime thinking I can't feel. I haven't quite gotten there, but I think I can see that place in the distance.

I am not quite ready to commit to the notion that I am happy (that just sounds too hopeful), but I will say I am fairly content these days, and for me, that in and of itself is a big victory.

Out of Sync

2010-02-11T22:15:00.004-07:00

For years, I have struggled and failed (sometimes miserably) to develop emotionally. My therapist says that more than likely my emotional growth was stunted early in my childhood, out of necessity and a need to protect myself from the trauma around me, while my intellectual side was given free reign to develop. My emotions have been struggling to catch up ever since.

Growing up, my intellectual side developed to the point that I became almost a walking, talking game of Trivial Pursuit, even before the game was ever created. My cousins teased me, calling me "Professor," not realizing how much it stung, nor was I able to tell them. Instead, I tried to laugh it off, even while realizing the label meant I did not and would not fit in with the rest of them.

That does not mean I never expressed emotion, but because of the ways in which I developed and did not develop, emotions were only expressed when reaching the highest peaks or the deepest valleys. In other words, the emotion or feeling had to be so strong it could no longer be held in check; emotion was never something I freely expressed otherwise.

My lack of emotional development meant feelings had no place, no room in my everyday world because they were not on the same plane as my thoughts. It has been much like a right-handed person trying to do something predominantly with his or her left hand; it is extremely uncomfortable, and the effort usually ends after a short time.

For the past 14 months, I have been trying to uncover repressed memories and feelings and to free myself up emotionally. I feel I have made some real strides in that time, but occasionally things happen to remind me of just how far I still have to go.

Tonight, I lapsed into defensiveness when Teresa asked me whether I had taken care of something she had asked me to take care of on several previous occasions. For one reason or another (forgetfulness, procrastination, or a combination), I had not completed the task. I suppose that at some deep level I have an imprinted memory of coming under attack as a child, to the point where defensiveness is almost a reflexive reaction. Teresa called me on it, I recognized it, and we were able to defuse the situation before one or both of us was hurt.

This episode was a stark reminder of how much work remains to bring my emotional and intellectual sides into balance with one another. However, writing this actually helps to bring the two sides closer together.

My therapist this week said that this blog serves as a connecting thread between the intellectual and the emotional side. Here, I am able to write about things I have great difficulty expressing verbally, thereby getting the emotions out and not keeping them bottled in. At the same time, I am able to think about what I am trying to say and about how I want to say it, thereby exercising the intellectual side.

The thread connecting the two is tenuous at times, but there is a connection. I feel at times like a car whose wheels are out of alignment. But now, at least, the wheels are all turning in the same direction. Usually, anyway.

Primal Scream

2010-02-03T22:23:00.003-07:00

In my last post, I mentioned that I was going to find a secluded spot and give in to my need or urge to scream, something my therapist thought might help me to loosen the lid on long repressed feelings. Well, I did. And I didn't.

I did not find that secluded spot, but I did scream. I screamed and I screamed while driving in the hills. At the time, though, it felt like the only things loosened were my fillings, as I ended up with a headache and a slightly sore throat.

My therapist says the headache is a symptom of very deep and repressed emotions from my childhood. She may be right. I do know that after my screaming I also had a desire to rant, or to borrow the name of a 1990s band, rage against the machine.

What came to mind was part rant, part rap, part poem, all in short, choppy phrases, something my therapist said was akin to how a child might react and respond to the situations I experienced growing up:

O, God!
No, God!
Why, God?
How, God?
What God?
Where God?
Whose God?
Which God?
When God?

While a few of these phrases have been added after reflection, most of these phrases/questions came to me in the moment immediately after the last scream. A crisis of faith, a cry for answers, a plea for relief, maybe all of the above.

All I know is that I have traveled further (and perhaps farther) in the last 14 months than I had in the previous 52 years of life. The screaming and the brief rant/rap that followed show me still how far I have yet to go.

My head tells me I should just let the past go. My heart, though, says that for better or worse that past is a big part of who I am and of how I got to this place in time. The answer for me lies somewhere in-between.

In the battle to protect myself as a child, I numbed myself to everything around me, which kept me at arms' length from nearly everyone who ever entered my life. Now, I need to dig through the scar tissue to get back to the emotions nearly cut off so long ago, so that I can make my peace with the past, be fully part of the life I now have, and look forward to the future.

I may never truly reach that point, but I have already come further than I dared to hope was possible, so there is hope. And as long as there is hope, there is life.

The Emotional Plateau

2010-01-27T21:58:00.002-07:00

A couple of months ago, I had made enough progress in my twice-weekly therapy sessions that my therapist agreed I was ready to cut back to once a week. Since then, the progress has slowed considerably.

Each Wednesday, my therapist opens the session by asking "What are you feeling?" or, sometimes, "How are you feeling?" The answer to the second question is much easier for me. These days, I generally feel pretty good, much better than when I started therapy 13 months ago.

The answer to the first and more often asked question is much more difficult to come by. Truth be told, I don't know if I am feeling all that much. Today, finally, I was able to put it into words to at least describe where I am at.

Because I knew she would ask me that question, I actually thought about it as I climbed the stairs to her second-floor office. What came to mind was a sense of having stagnated or plateaued emotionally. I feel I have gotten to a comfortable place emotionally, much better than I have ever been but still not fully engaged emotionally in my own life.

She talked about the idea of there being a lid on things, one I put in place as a child as a means to protect myself while living in a violent household. We talked about my wanting to become invisible so as to not draw attention and possibly the wrath of an abusive stepfather or stepbrother. I stayed hidden as much as possible in the shadows.

She went to talk about the idea of my childhood ending when I was very young because of the circumstances in the home, and I have an increased sense of that. From at least the age of five until the age of 12, I never had other kids come over to our house to play, and I never went to anyone else's house to play.

As our session unfolded, I recalled an episode from around the time I was five. I had a favorite toy, a sort of scaled version of a car interior: there was a dashboard with windshield, wipers, steering wheel, dashboard, and working radio. I loved playing with it.

One day, an older boy (I think it was my future stepbrother, although I am not sure) took this toy and threw it into the swimming pool of our apartment complex. Without thinking, I went in after it, blindly disregarding the fact that I had not yet learned to swim.

Fortunately, I guess, I also did not yet know how to dive, so I landed fairly close to the edge of the pool when I jumped in and was able to grab the side of the pool, saving myself while the toy sank to the bottom of the pool. Thinking back on it, I think that was the moment when I decided not to let anything (or possibly anyone) matter that much to me again. I disciplined myself not to be ticklish and not to show pain when I was spanked. I got very good at closing myself off.

As we talked, she would ask me from time to time how something made me feel. One time, I surprised myself by saying I felt like I wanted to scream. She said that was a good first step to finally blowing off the lid to my emotional life and suggested I find a place to do just that, somewhere by myself and, hopefully, somewhere that I won't cause an avalanche (the avalanche danger is fairly high at the moment in some of the areas around us).

Sometime in the next few days, I intend to take her advice. It will be a new experience for me, as I don't know that I've ever screamed. Yelled, yes. Screamed, I don't think so.

If this weekend you hear a loud roar or noise off in the distance, don't be too alarmed. It will likely be me screaming as loud as I can muster, in hopes of chipping away the emotional rust and prying loose the lid and maybe letting some light back in.

Counting My Blessings

2010-01-22T21:01:00.003-07:00

Every year around Christmas, we sit down to watch the 1954 film "White Christmas" with Bing Crosby, Danny Kaye, Rosemary Clooney, and Vera Ellen. With the recent events in Haiti, culminating in the impromptu telethon put together by MTV, one song from that movie pops into my head.

The song is "Count Your Blessings," and the first verse goes like this:

When I'm worried and I can't sleep
I count my blessings instead of sheep
And I fall asleep counting my blessings
When my bankroll is getting small
I think of when I had none at all
And I fall asleep counting my blessings

Sometimes, disasters of such scale as that in Haiti serve to remind us how fortunate we are. I have a loving, patient, and understanding wife; a wonderful son who is sometimes challenging yet amazing. Unlike many in our own country, I have a job with somewhat decent health insurance, and I am able to do many of things I truly enjoy: camping, cooking, enjoying a glass of wine, enjoy a sunset without worrying whether I'll have a roof over my head when it gets dark and turns colder.

If there can be said to be anything positive out of events like the earthquake in Haiti, perhaps it is that such cataclysmic disasters jolt us - even for a moment - out of our complacency and remind us of our own mortality and also of our own good fortune. Such events can bring out the worst in people - remember the looting in New Orleans in the wake of Hurricane Katrina and even now the attempts by some to scam those unsuspecting people trying to help the victims in Haiti - but it can also bring out the best in people.

One thing I hope this disaster does for me and for you is to remind us of how precious life is and encourage us to live each day to its fullest. By that, I do not mean through conspicuous consumption, as is often seen to be the American Way. No, I mean by taking time to really see the world and the people around you.

Take the time to smell a rose, savor a walk in the woods, really see a sunrise or sunset, say hello to a neighbor or a co-worker, laugh, cry, truly be in the world around you. These are all things I have spent the last year in therapy trying to learn to do as I continue my own recovery efforts from the emotional upheaval of so many years ago and attempt to dig out from under that emotional rubble.

My hope is that the recovery effort in Haiti shows as much promise in a year's time as I feel my own personal recovery has shown over the last year. If you have not already done so, I encourage you to open your hearts and your wallets and make a donation to help relief efforts in Haiti at Hope For Haiti Now. And always remember to count your blessings.

The Art of Patience at 30 Miles an Hour

2010-01-14T22:31:00.004-07:00

Around Thanksgiving, Teresa and I decided it was time for us to climb another rung up the recreational vehicle ladder. It was something we had discussed off and on for several months. The discussion usually went back and forth between a motor home and a fifth wheel trailer. We ultimately chose the fifth wheel route, the purchase of which I have outlined in an earlier entry.

Of course, to tow any trailer, we would need to get a truck. So we traded in our beloved 2006 Subaru Outback on a 2006 Ford F-350 Super Duty Crew cab truck with dual real wheels and a diesel engine.

Needless to say, the truck does not get the same fuel mileage as our Subaru. Every day, I try all kinds of tricks to coax another tenth of a mile per gallon in mileage. For instance, I start out slowly from a stop sign or stop light, especially when the engine is still cold. I also take my foot of the gas - as much as a block away - when approaching a stop sign or a red light.

In addition to that extra tenth of a mile per gallon (or even two), I have gained something else: a growing sense of calm. I no longer feel in such a rush to get somewhere, and I realize that one or two minutes really doesn't make much of a difference in the greater scheme of things.

In the past, I used to get more irritated with drivers who would speed up and cut in front of me. I used to go a little faster just so they would have to get in behind me. Now, because this truck is geared more for towing than it is for quick acceleration, I couldn't keep another vehicle from pulling in front of me if I wanted to. More often than not these days, I don't want to.

I watch cars speed by me, then see them idling at the next red light when I catch up to them. They didn't seem to gain very much.

The ancient fable about the tortoise and the hare has the oft-repeated mantra of "slow and steady wins the race," but racing is far from my thoughts. Instead, I think more of slowing down and being more aware of the world around me, slowing down to see and experience my world instead of racing from one day to the next as if I were late for an appointment.

I spent many years trying to escape the world around me, so this is a new experience for me, and I have some work yet to do. So far, though, I like what I see. I am reminded of the opening lines of Simon and Garfunkel's 59th Street Bridge Song: "Slow down, you move too fast. You've got to make the morning last." Now, that's a goal to hurry toward.

The Finer Things in Life

2010-01-07T21:14:00.004-07:00

I'm sitting here at my computer on a Thursday evening, and instead of watching the National Championship game between Texas and Alabama, I'm reflecting on an episode of Oprah that my wife, Teresa, recorded because she thought I might be interested.

It turns out she was right. In general, the show was about women around the world and how they live. Oprah talked to women in Copenhagen, Dubai, Rio de Janeiro, Istanbul, and Tokyo. It was the segment with the women from Copenhagen that most interested and and intrigued me.

Apparently, a recent study or poll concluded that people in Denmark are the happiest people in the world. This, despite the fact that they pay the highest average income tax rate in the world of around 50-percent.

What makes them so happy? First, everyone has access to health care. People get paid to go to school. Women get six-months to a year of maternity leave. Most jobs pay similar incomes, so people go into fields because they enjoy them and not simply because they pay well.

There is almost no homelessness, almost no crime, and people who lose their jobs are supported for up to four years while they look for new work and get government help to learn new skills. As one of the Danish women put it, she is happy to pay the high income tax rate because she looks at it as people helping one another and taking care of each other. Some in America would look at these things and label Denmark socialist. The Danes interviewed by Oprah look at it as being civilized and being humane.

One other thing the Danish women said that I think speaks to the heart of why the Danes might be so happy is that they have less stuff. They are more interested in living life and spending time with friends and family than they are working to get more stuff, which seems to be the American Dream or at least the American way of life. Could there really be more to life than money?

I think that is one reason the full-time RV life appeals to me so much; it is more about living life and doing things and less about getting stuff. One Danish husband put it this way when describing living in Denmark: "less space, less stuff, more life."

As I sit here typing this and enjoying a glass of wine, I think the idea of "less space, less stuff, more life" has much to recommend it.

Resolutions for the New Year

2010-01-02T23:11:00.002-07:00

When I was younger, I would every New Year's Eve, without fail, make ten resolutions for the new year, resolutions I would invariably fail to keep. For many years, this was probably the only systemic and organized thing I would do.

After many years (I'm a slow learner), I realized that the only thing as consistent as my making these resolutions was my failure to keep any of them. So I stopped making them.

Last year, I decided to try again. I resolved to try to put my past behind me and finally stop letting it control my life. While I was not 100% successful in keeping this resolution, I made enough progress to encourage me to try again this year. So here goes.

In 2010, I resolve to embrace and enjoy life more fully. I feel I am already along the path toward accomplishing this. I laugh more (thanks in large part to Oliver, our beagle), I probably cry a little more, and I more fully appreciate and enjoy nature, especially sunsets. I intend to do more of these things in 2010.

I also resolve to try harder not to let little things bother or irritate me. This will be easier said than done. I have a real problem with idiot drivers who speed to get past me, get in front of me, and then slow down or turn. I'll at least try harder to clean up my language toward such drivers when these things occur.

I was going to try to come up with a third resolution, but I realized that these two cover most contingencies. As an author once wrote, don't sweat the small stuff, and it's all small stuff. If I manage to have any success keeping my second resolution, it all but guarantees I will have success keeping my first resolution.

I hope 2010 brings much happiness and success to each of you. And I resolve to be happy for you when that happens. There, that's three. Happy New Year!

Perhaps You Can Go Home Again

2009-12-30T22:57:00.006-07:00

Thomas Wolfe once wrote, "And at the end of it [self-appraisal] he knew, and with the knowledge came the definite sense of new direction toward which he had long been groping, that the dark ancestral cave, the womb from which mankind emerged into the light, forever pulls one back--but that you can't go home again. . . . You can't go back to your family, back home to your childhood . . . ." For years, I suspect some part of me thought that was true, as I neglected or perhaps avoided returning home to where most of my family still lives.

Now, having returned from a Christmas visit to the Seattle area to see family, I think perhaps I can go home again, at least to visit. My first visit in eight years went in many ways much better than I expected. Aside from a few awkward silences with my sister, I felt comfortable and welcome amongst these people to whom I had once been so close and from whom I had drifted so far away.

There were times when I felt a bit of a stranger in a strange land, especially when I saw all of the children who had grown up in my absence and who now had children of their own. But there were many more times when I felt as if almost no time had passed since my last visit; the conversation and the laughter flowed easily.

I suppose there were a few minor disappointments. Circumstances and logistics did not allow for much in-depth or heartfelt conversation; there were just too many people to see and too little time in which to see them. On the other hand, I found new areas of common ground where I did not know it existed.

In the end, I think perhaps a new foundation was laid and connections hopefully renewed. I once again have family. Not that they ever doubted it. And I did go home again.

The Prodigal Son

2009-12-22T21:38:00.004-07:00

In the morning, the family and I will get in the car to begin the long journey to Western Washington for Christmas. It is a journey both of distance and of time. That is true not only in the most obvious sense of the hours spent in the car and the distance traveled. It is true on a number of other levels as well.

This will be our first visit back as a family in more than half a decade. In some ways, it seems as if no time at all has passed. In other ways, it seems as if a lifetime has gone by since I last saw some of my family.

Cousins and nephews and nieces who were children or teenagers when last I saw them are now adults, some of them with children of their own. Where did the years go?

To be honest, I'm a little nervous about the trip, simply because it has been so long. It should be a little easier because I have seen an aunt and an uncle, been reintroduced to them in a sense, in recent months. But because so much time has passed, I admit to feeling a little like a stranger in a strange land, unsure of how to act, how to fit in.

Still, I am looking forward to the trip. My therapist calls it a chance to reconnect, to reclaim my roots, something I may have unknowingly spent years running from, just as I was running from the demons of my past.

For years, I was never sure I belonged anywhere. I never seemed to fit. Now I know I don't have to. I just have to be me and let people take me as they will.

I'm sure some of the conversations will slip into familiar topics, but I hope we learn a little something about each other that maybe we didn't know before. Regardless of how it unfolds, I am looking forward to the journey back to my childhood home. Simply put, it's time.

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

2009-12-14T22:06:00.006-07:00

Christmas has always been one of my favorite times of the year. Even growing up in a single-parent family with a very limited income, I always looked forward to Christmas.

Sure, I liked the thought of receiving presents; I still do. More than that, though, I looked forward to Christmas dinner with the family: grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, a human menagerie if you will.

This year, I come full circle in this respect as I bring my own family, wife and son, back to have Christmas dinner with my family for the first time. Teresa and I made the pilgrimage back for Christmas dinner once, in 1995. We took our son back for a visit between Thanksgiving and Christmas the following year, when he was just six months old. It was the only time his grandmother, my mother, would ever see her grandson. Now, we make the journey as a family.

I'm a little nervous because it has been seven and a half years since I have been back. But I'm looking forward to the trip as well. Because Christmas really is about family. The holiday itself evolved out of a very special birth in a very special family, so it makes perfect sense that family would be at the heart of this holiday more than any other.

With that in mind, I wrote a little something to mark the holiday, something I hope captures part of the essence of Christmas. Consider it my way of wishing all of my friends and family, near and far, a very Merry Christmas.

I'm Wishing You a Merry Christmas

Though many miles may lie between us

One thing still rings true
My wish that Christmas brings

A special joy to each of you

Hold fast to the spirit
And the promise this day holds
See it in the children's faces
As each gift unfolds

I'm wishing you a Merry Christmas
One filled with laughter and good cheer
May your heart reflect the joy
Of every girl and boy
And keep you smiling into the new year

I wish for you that special feeling
That comes from family and good friends
On this very special day
I hope good things come your way
And bring a feeling I hope never ends

Beneath the mistletoe
In the Christmas lights aglow
This season brings a joy
I hope that each of you will know
And may the memory of this season
Last throughout the year
To warm your heart each time
You gather loved ones near

And so, I hope this special season
Is filled with joy and laughter, too
On this very special day
There's just one thing left to say
Merry Christmas -
Merry Christmas -
Merry Christmas to you

The Search . . . . is over

2009-12-05T20:24:00.004-07:00

On Monday, a deal for what could possibly have been our first fifth wheel trailer fell through. On Friday, we looked at another candidate, another 1998 model, a 35-foot Excel. The brand was a quality brand when it was around, and this trailer looked great on the inside. The outside, however, had a few too many problems for our liking and for the price being asked. So we decided to pass again.

Saturday, my birthday. A new day and yet another trailer to look at. This one was a little older, a 1995 model Kit Cordova. Because of the age, I didn't hold out a lot of hope, but I figured it was worth a look. After all, the price was right and we didn't have anything else planned.

We arrived at the dealer (a different one from the one we had been talking to before) and the salesman took us out to look at the trailer. Right from the start, we were pleasantly surprised. From the outside, it certainly did not look like a 14-year old trailer. We took a look inside. All of the cabinet doors were solid when they closed and none of them were coming loose. The couch, chair, and carpet looked to be in good shape. The stove looked almost new, and the refrigerator actually looked in great shape.

In the bedroom, the mattress looked new. There was plenty of interior storage. The shower enclosure might need some repair, but it looked usable. For an older unit, there also appeared to be a good deal of exterior storage, and there was a good amount of cargo carrying capacity. The roof also looked better than several other trailers we had looked at.

There was a little rust underneath but less than many newer units we looked at. Teresa and I talked about it and probably filtered our discussion through the many other units we had looked at and passed on. And, when it was all said and done, we decided to buy it.

So we now have a 33-foot fifth wheel, and we can't wait to start using it. We pick it up Friday and will probably have a shakedown cruise, as it were, that weekend. Then we'll be ready to do some four-season camping. I can't wait.

The Search

2009-12-01T20:02:00.003-07:00

No, it's not the search for truth, the search for love, the search for knowledge, the search for fulfillment, or even the search for God. This search is for the perfect RV or at least perfect for us within our price range.

Since buying our tent trailer three-plus years ago, we have talked about one day moving up the RV food chain. At first, we thought that next RV might be a travel trailer and perhaps one day a fifth wheel trailer. Later, we thought we would skip the middle steps and move directly to a motorhome one day.

Our beagle Oliver has made us realize that a tent trailer is a little too small for a family of four (he is, after all, a member of the family). As a result, one day has become a lot sooner than we first envisioned. After our vacation to Utah, we thought perhaps in a couple of years. A few more camping trips later, the time frame became more like a couple of months.

The search for the perfect for us at this stage of our lives and current budget RV started in earnest about six weeks ago. We initially focused on finding a used motorhome, then decided the layouts of the motorhomes we could afford were not what we thought we wanted or needed.

After looking at a few motorhomes, we returned to the idea of a fifth wheel trailer. we had always liked the kitchen layouts of the fifth wheels we had seen, and since I like to cook when we are camping, the kitchen was in some ways the most important consideration of any RV layout.

Now that we had decided what type of RV to pursue, we needed a truck. We didn't want anything too big, but we knew we needed something big enough to pull a loaded fifth wheel. Because we wanted a particular type of truck without four-wheel drive (I wasn't sure they were sold in Idaho), we still were sure it would be several months before we decided on a unit and were ready to make a purchase.

But the search for the truck actually turned out to be the easiest part of this process as we found a 2006 Ford F-350 dual real wheels with Power Stroke diesel and without four-wheel drive. Once we signed the papers on the truck, the search for a fifth wheel seemed to become more serious.

We found one we really liked for a price we really liked only to find cracking in the fiberglass and some dents in one side. Then we found another one we liked at an even better price. We looked at it several times before we noticed the stress crack below the slide out. We looked at one where the bedroom seemed designed for midgets, another that seemed to have been made mostly of plastic, wood veneer, and glue, easy on the glue since trim was pulling apart everywhere.

We looked at several that seemed as if they had been parked in the ocean and others that we might one day aspire to before finding what we thought might be the one. It was a 1998 Alpenlite, 29-feet long. It was a little beat up on the inside and had originally been way overpriced before the dealer knocked several thousand dollars off the price. We had a few reservations but felt if we could get the right price, this would be worth buying.

The salesman kept playing games with us ("I have to talk to my manager" and "Someone is coming to look at it tomorrow and might buy it"). The more they did such things, the more inclined we were to dig in our heels and not budge on what we were willing to pay for the unit.

In the end, it turns out someone else did buy the unit for what the dealer was asking. (At least that's what the salesman says.) I hope they enjoy it, and I hope everything on the unit works. We never were sure.

It could have turned out to be a great trailer at a good price, but we'll never know. And I'm okay with that. Our dealings with the dealer (Camping World of Boise) and the salesman always left us a bit uneasy about the trailer and about what might be wrong with it.

We've always been convinced we would know the right unit for us when we saw it. We still believe that. In addition, we now know where we probably won't be buying it.

Learning to Slow Down

2009-11-01T22:35:00.003-07:00

"Life if the fast lane sure can make you lose your mind" - The Eagles

Since my last posting more than a month ago, I have been working on learning to slow down a bit, to enjoy the world around me, and to not let the little things in life get to me. I have not always succeeded, but I am getting better at it.

When my aunt told me the story about my father and the real reason behind the breakup of my parents' marriage, a huge weight that I had been carrying for more than 40 years began to lift. As it did, an inner sense of calm and of peace began to develop.

I find myself much more aware of little things: sunsets, cloud formations, the moon, even something as mundane as the fact that dishes need to be put into the dishwasher. With that awareness has also come the realization (always present, I think, but now more developed) that some things are not worth worrying about.

I worry a good deal less about making mistakes at work or about getting everything done on time. Not because I don't care, but because I realize that I can only do what I can do and no more. I have decided that I can only control what I can control and that the rest is not worth getting upset about. As a result, my stress level has diminished considerably.

I realize that my job is never going to be a dream job and also that I will likely never rise above my level, and I am okay with that. My job is what it is: food on the table, gas in the car, and a means toward an end goal of being able to one day retire, buy a motorhome, and travel a little bit.

I have had several people who know me say that I seem happier these days. And I am. Having some answers about my past allowed me to move out from under its shadow. I still have some work to do, but I can see the light at the end of the tunnel and it is getting brighter. I am also no longer mistaking it for an oncoming train.

Don't get me wrong; little things still have the power to irritate me at times. A car pulling out in front of me or going around me only to slow down in order to make a turn or my son talking during a program I'm trying to watch or changing the subject when I ask him a question, these things all still irritate me. But the irritation does not seem to last as long and sometimes does not materialize at all.

I also find that I am no longer in such a hurry to get wherever I'm going. I thought about this the other day at work as I was watching people hurry past me in the halls. I thought to myself: what's the rush? That person will get where they're going 15 or 20 seconds sooner than I will reach the same spot. The work will still be there when I arrive, only I'll get there more relaxed and in a calmer state than the person in such a hurry. And there is a good deal to be said for that.

Putting the Pieces Together

2009-09-10T22:08:00.009-06:00

It has been a busy two weeks since my last entry. No sooner did I get through the end of the month rush at work before I had to jump back into the rush of another month with a short turnaround time for getting everything done.

In the interval, I had a great weekend of camping with the family and spent some time thinking about and trying to find out more about something an aunt told me about my father when she was here for a visit a month ado. Before I share what she said, a little background.

My mother and father separated when I was five - a long, long time ago (there were cars, but I'm not sure about color television.) - and divorced soon after. The way it has always played out in my mind is that one day he was there, the next he was gone. When I say gone, I mean gone completely - no visits on the weekends, no calls, no letters, nothing. It was as if he had never existed.

During the intervening years, through my mother's bad relationships and an even worse second marriage, I wondered what had happened to my father and what had happened to cause him to simply disappear. No one seemed to know, or at least no one was talking.

The only answer I ever got on the subject from my mother was that my father "couldn't handle the responsibility of a family." While I'm sure she did not mean it this way, inside I took that to mean it was my fault for the end of their marriage. I never included my sister in that blame equation; I suppose at some level I concluded that she was a second attempt to get it right. If I had turned out right or perhaps had never been born they would have stayed together and life would have been different.

I won't bore you with what my therapist has to say about this. Suffice to say that this episode of my childhood and the way I interpreted it caused all kinds of problems for me in terms of interpersonal relationships, emotional commitments, and simply living. Because the separation was so complete and so permanent, all of the pieces seemed to fit together to support the conclusion that I was somehow to blame for my parents' divorce.

That is because my mother's explanation was the only story I had - until a little more than a month ago. That was when an aunt came to town and gave me the initial piece of a new story, one that took me out of the blame equation, one that held the promise of a rational explanation - finally - if I could get some more details.

At that time, she told me that my mother had thrown my father out for some unnamed transgression and that he had possibly ended up in prison. Prison would have explained why he never came to visit and could have explained no letters and no telephone calls - for a time. But what could he have done to cause my mother not to want him around us ever again. I needed more information.

After talking about this revelation with my therapist, she encouraged me to contact my aunt to see if I could get more details about what had happened. So I e-mailed my aunt. E-mail seemed safer than a phone call in case my aunt couldn't or wouldn't say more. It also allowed me to be crystal clear in what I was asking for, and it allowed me to take emotion out of it, especially the potential for an angry outburst if no other information was available or forthcoming.

I sent the e-mail. And I waited. After eight days with no answer, my therapist encouraged me to call my aunt to see whether she had gotten my e-mail. Because of computer problems, she hadn't. So I waited some more. Another eight days passed. Finally, Wednesday morning before work, I checked my e-mail again, and there was the response I had been waiting for. I read it through and thought to myself, it all fits.

It seems my father had been guilty of infidelity, only with a criminal twist. The "other woman" turned out not to have been a woman after all but an underage girl. According to my aunt, it wasn't the first time, either. So my mother kicked him out and, as my aunt says, because she was afraid he might hurt one of us, my mother didn't want my father coming around.

After all these years, I now have a different story with different pieces, and they all seem to add up. They seem to explain the sudden breaking of contact and the subsequent years of silence on the part of my father. But deep inside, I still seem to need a bit more.

Perhaps it's the doubting Thomas in me or perhaps it's the spirit of the reporter I used to be, but there is part of me that now wants to know for sure whether he went to prison and for what. My aunt has taken the new story as far as she can. Now it is time for me to take it and flesh it out and perhaps craft the happy ending I never really thought was possible. Until now.

The End of Civility

2009-08-28T21:03:00.004-06:00

In following the ongoing debate over universal health care in America, I have been led to conclude that America is a divided country again.

We have been divided before: the Civil War, Vietnam, even the war in Iraq. It seems to me that each new division takes just a little longer to heal, and the time of relative unity in between grows a little bit shorter, if it exists at all.

I blame talk radio for a portion of this. It sounds silly to say that, but talk radio does seem to set the tone for what passes for discourse in this country. That tone has grown increasingly shrill in recent years. Nothing and no one can be trusted anymore, it seems. For a long-time idealist like me, that is a hard world in which to live.

Talk radio is likely not the cause of this loss of civility; rather, it is probably but a symptom. However, like a parasite, it continues to feed off of this social unease and distrust. Like an opportunist, it fuels those negative emotions rather than looking for or promoting solutions. Talk radio feeds on the fears of people concerned about how something might affect them individually without ever looking at how something might affect or even benefit us societally and without ever offering a rational alternative.

It has long been said that politics is dirty business and that people interested in a life in politics had to be willing to get down in the mud. For most of our existence, most of that mud was controlled and contained in back rooms and more often than not a middle ground was eventually found.

These days, the mud is slung freely and indiscriminately, hitting anyone and everyone in its path. As a result, the middle ground is lost to us because we cannot even see it, let alone reach it. Personally, I feel unclean.

Years ago, Rodney King asked the often-spoofed and ridiculed question: "Can we all get along?" The question appears to have been answered once and for all. Sadly, the answer appears to be no.

Crimes and Misdemeanors and Other Thoughts

2009-08-19T21:55:00.004-06:00

I have been following, off and on, the increasingly raucous debate over whether the government should be involved in health care. Interestingly, I think, the loudest opposition comes from people who have no need of a public option for health care and from those who fear that such an option will kill their goose that laid the golden egg. Perhaps it should.

Frankly, I believe insurance company decisions regarding whether to pay benefits or not are based all too often on the impact to their bottom line or to the value of shareholders' stock instead of the impact on a person's life or even survival. My own feeling is that if insurance companies must exist, they should do so to provide supplemental insurance to cover more voluntary things such as plastic surgery.

Opponents on the Right complain that any government involvement in health care takes us another step down the road to socialism. I'm all for private enterprise - in areas that do not hold the potential of a life or death decision: buying a car, dining out, clothing stores, and the like. However, I also believe there are places where the for-profit economic model has no place, and health care is one of them.

Some have suggested that reform, such as a law to prevent denial of benefits for a preexisting condition is a better approach. At one time, I might have agreed. But no more. I no longer believe a piecemeal approach can work. Nor do I think the health insurance industry will sit still for such changes to their cash cow. If they can kill such a massive reform effort as the one currently underway, individual changes stand no chance of success.

I think it is a travesty, even a crime that the richest nation in the world ranks 33rd in the world in infant mortality rate, according to a 2006 United Nations report. (A 2007 report from the CDC puts that death rate even higher.) By the way, that is five spots worse than lowly and impoverished Cuba. (The U.S. ranks 34th in the rate of child deaths within the first five years of life. Cuba ranks 26th in that regard.) The 2009 estimates from the CIA World Factbook rank the United States even lower at 46th in the world. That bastion of wealth, Slovenia, ranks 19th, with two fewer infant deaths per 1,000 live births than the U.S.

Simply put, capitalism has no place in health care. Maybe, though, this debate can serve as a catalyst to review and rethink capitalism, not with the goal of replacing it but with the goal of restoring some balance. For instance, in 1970, a company CEO made, on average 25 times the salary on one of his workers. In 2009, that figure was by some estimates 700 times the average worker's income. Even as jobs are lost or shipped overseas, CEO salaries continue to rise. Perhaps this is what Reagan meant when he talked about trickle-down economics. The top tier skims off the cream and allows whatever is left to trickle down to the rest of us.

I work for a company that a few years back had a CEO who nearly ran the company into the ground. He managed to unload the company, saddling the new buyers with billions of dollars in debt in the process, then drove off into the sunset with his $150 million golden parachute. In the meantime, several hundred of the rank and file workers he left behind had their jobs eliminated or shipped overseas.

I don't think the original proponents of capitalism ever had this in mind. This is no longer your father's capitalism, where small businesses served as the backbone of the economy. That model has been replaced by an oligarchy in which CEOs hold most of the wealth and the power that comes with it.

Is this really what the Founding Fathers had in mind?

The Human Detour

2009-07-27T22:12:00.004-06:00

Have you ever noticed how you may be headed in one direction but something happens to push you in a different direction, one you never expected or anticipated? It happens to all of us, I would venture to say, some of us more than once. With my son, Christopher, I experience small detours every day. Life is often lived at 90-degree angles with Christopher, who will suddenly and abruptly change the direction of a conversation without warning.

Tonight, a few minutes before 9:00, I informed Christopher that he needed to get ready for bed. After a moment or two, he left, only to return five minutes or so later to inform me that he was going to brush his teeth. What he did during the five or so minutes he was gone, I'm not even sure he knows. I do know that if anyone ever figures out a way to save "rollover" minutes in life the way a certain cellular phone company does, Christopher will be set into the next life.

Christopher left again. To the untrained observer, it would appear he went to brush his teeth, just as he said. As his father, I knew better. Ten minutes passed. Teresa opened the bathroom door to discover him simply standing there. I sat down on our bedroom floor to play with our dog and settled in for the long haul.

Another five or ten minutes passed, during which time Christopher presumably did brush his teeth. He walked into our bedroom and announced to the world, "I found a penny on the bus," to which I replied, "Yes, but can you find your pajamas?" Because, at this point, Christopher, clean teeth and all, was still fully dressed.

Tonight, it took Christopher roughly 20 minutes to get ready for bed and another five to actually get settled into bed. Tonight, he showed unusual speed. The week prior, there was one night it took Christopher almost 90-minutes to finally pronounce himself ready for bed.

I joke that Christopher has two speeds: slow and stop. Because of that, Teresa and I both suspect that he will have trouble in this hurry up and wait, hustle and bustle world in which we live.

Seeing Christopher's inability to do anything quickly has been frustrating to me more times than I can count. Tonight, though, I hit upon a thought that may make dealing with and accepting Christopher's lack of alacrity about anything a bit easier to accept. When we retire, Teresa and I hope to buy a motorhome to live in a travel around the country, and we are sometimes convinced that Christopher will have to accompany us on the road.

In the world of the full-time RVer, a world we one day hope to enter, time is much more relative. There are no schedules unless you choose to have them. You don't need to be somewhere on a certain day, by a certain time unless you choose to. In a sense, time is more of a choice.

In that world, life is lived more slowly. People take time to notice and appreciate their surroundings. Although there are fewer younger people in that world, it is one tailor-made for Christopher, for whom time is often fluid, aside from deadlines and schedules imposed and enforced on him by others.

Amongst full-time RVers, Christopher may well thrive, and it may be me who frustrates him. I can't wait.

The Power of Language - to Confuse

2009-07-25T23:09:00.002-06:00

As an erstwhile English major and former writer for a television newscast, I suppose I have always been somewhat fascinated by the power of the English language to inform, to console, to lift up, and yes, to confuse.

Here is a case in point. Every day, on my way home from work, I drive past my son's junior high school. At the exit from the school grounds there is a sign that reads as follows: Golf and Metal Detectors Prohibited on School Grounds. Initially, I wondered about the ban on metal detectors, but then it hit me. Why would anyone need a detector to determine whether people were playing golf on school grounds? And what would such a detector look like?

Silly? Probably. But such nuances of the language cause problems for native and non-native speakers alike. Often, the meaning depends on how a person reads the message: pronunciation, intonation, etc. In my case, a sometimes bored mind starts to read unintended meanings into things.

Take for instance the road sign: Slow Children at Play. This mind wants to know where the fast children play. And where are the slow children? I never see them playing. They must be too slow for the human eye to notice.

Here in Idaho we also have signs such as Watch For Stock. Am I allowed to gather up any shares of IBM or Microsoft I spot along the roadway?

The first time I came upon a Game Crossing sign I looked for Yahtzee and Monopoly but did not see them. I also wondered if I would then see a Do Not Pass Go sign. I didn't.

On that same drive home every day, I pass two side streets that appear in many respects to be similar to one another. The main difference is that the first side street has a sign that reads No Outlet while the second street has a sign that reads Dead End.

What is the difference? Does one street have access to electricity while the other one doesn't? Does it mean that once you take one of these streets you can never make your way back out? Or does it simply mean that there is no cheap shopping to be had on the street labeled No Outlet? Sometimes, the power of the language is all in how you look at it and in how you say it. Sometimes, it helps to be a little bit out in left field.

Some Mental Decluttering

2009-07-18T14:11:00.002-06:00

I don't really have anything specific on my mind, but it's been a while since my last post so I thought I ought to say something. So let me just unpack a few things rattling around my brain.

As I write this, it is closing in on 100-degrees here in Boise, and the neighbor and her daughter are sitting outside trying to hold a garage sale. They're sitting in the shade, but it has to be hot out there. What must make it worse is that I don't think a single person has stopped to look, let along buy anything.

That got me to thinking: what is it about us Americans and our need for stuff? Bigger stuff, better stuff, more expensive stuff, just more stuff. I've read that houses have gone from around 1100 or 1200 square feet in the 1950s to more than 2400 square feet a few years ago. I feel so below average in our 1,967 square feet. NOT! One day, we may even downsize into a 320 square foot motorhome, but we'll have to get rid of a lot more stuff first.

I recently found out I wasn't getting a promotion I didn't even know I was up for and didn't think I would want. I realized, though, that I was a little disappointed, even though the choice as made was to keep another, more experienced person with the company and not because of my qualifications or lack thereof.

Why is it that so many things that are good for you don't taste good while so many things that taste good are so bad for you? It just doesn't seem right. And will researchers ever make up their minds about coffee? First it's bad, then it's good, and now they say one cups of caffeinated coffee a day can help ward off dementia and reduce the risk of Alzheimer's. With as much as I drink, I should be in good shape until I'm at least 125.

While I'm in this decluttering mood, I should toss out some of the less pleasant memories of my life that have basically kept me from really enjoying life for all these years. I tried for so long to understand some of them that I forgot to live and make new memories. The process of reversing that began seven months ago. I wish I'd been ready sooner.

Along the way, I've been thinking about the people who have come into and gone out of my life. I wonder where they are these days, how they are, what they're doing, even what they look like. To all of you, I'm glad I knew you, even if only for a short time. I wish I'd been a better friend. Perhaps one day I'll be lucky enough to have a second chance at it.

What I Did On My Summer Vacation

2009-06-28T21:45:00.004-06:00

It has been exactly one week since we returned from our nine-day excursion to south-central Utah. What a wonderful excursion it was! This may have been the most scenic and most relaxing vacation I have ever had.

Last year, we drove 11 hours to southwest Oregon and spent time seeing the Oregon and California coasts, Redwoods National Park, and Crater Lake National Park. Very beautiful but very exhausting. It felt like we did all three of those over consecutive days, even though I know we did not.

Compounding that was the fact that I was anticipating a possible new job, the offer for which came during our trip to Crater Lake. That meant an unplanned additional day's driver to find a Kinko's from which to fax back my acceptance of the job offer. Needless to say, when we returned I was exhausted and felt like I needed another vacation in order to recover.

Not so this time, even we did as much if not more sightseeing. Our campsite, in Fish Lake National Forest, was at 8800-feet, which led to cool, crisp nights and some great sleeping weather. The days were mostly cool and often wet, but we did not let that stop us from making road trips to three national parks, each perhaps more spectacular than the one before.

During our nine days, we made visits to, in order: Capitol Reef, Bryce Canyon, and Arches National Parks. We managed to put at least one day of rest in-between each park, which allowed us time to recharge our batteries. That spacing made each park more enjoyable and more picturesque, as evidenced by the fact that we took more than 500 pictures, and our son took nearly 200 additional pictures. (I promise to post some as soon as I get a chance to organize them.)

There are some wondrous sites to see in this country, and I hope to see more of them in the coming years. For now, just let me say that everyone should travel to see some of these wonderful places in Utah, and if you do go, be sure to try the buffalo burger at the Burger Bar in Roy, just north of Salt Lake City. Their shakes are fantastic as well.

And if you happen to be driving through Koosharem, a small town of fewer than 300 people seemingly in the middle of nowhere on Highway 62, 156 miles from Salt Lake City, be sure to stop by the Koosharem Cafe and have the Country Fried Steak meal. Very good food at a very good price.

A Few Random Questions

2009-06-07T21:53:00.002-06:00

Why is it that, as most men get older, their waistline expands even as their hairline recedes? Is it something to do with quantum physics? Perhaps in a parallel universe an alternate version of me is really thin.

Did you ever wonder why the louder you speak the harder of hearing your children seem to become? I can literally yell to ask Christopher to do something and he'll say he didn't hear me. But I could be on the other side of the house almost whispering, and he'll catch every single word - especially if none of them were meant for him to hear. Someone please explain that to me.

Do you think there might be a special place in Hell for people who race to pull out in front you even though there are blocks of empty space behind you and then proceed to drive well below the speed limit? I sure hope so.

Where is the reality in reality TV? Seriously, do you personally know anyone who does some of the stupid things these people do in some of these shows? I don't. With the exception of Survivor, of course. I mean, there is nothing contrived about putting 16 strangers on a deserted island or in the middle of the jungle and rewarding the person who does the best job of lying, cheating, and stabbing the other 15 contestants in the back. Oh wait, I'm confusing Survivor with climbing the corporate ladder.

Do you ever wonder why someone would take the time to write about what he thinks or feels when few if any people will read it and fewer still will comment on it? So do I, but I guess I'll keep doing so.

It's Camping Season

2009-06-01T22:37:00.004-06:00

This year, my allergies are the worst they have been since moving to Idaho in 2003. I've spent a great deal of time sneezing, reaching for a tissue, or trying to gouge my eyes out to stop the itching. If it isn't one of those, then it's the problem of trying to stay awake and alert after doping myself beyond the recommended dosage in a futile quest for relief.

In spite of these miseries, I am as happy as I have been in several months. Why? Because it is camping season once again. We already have three trips under our belt this season, with our big trip coming in less than two weeks, an eight-day stay in Utah. I am really looking forward to it.

This year, despite the allergies, camping is in many ways more fun than in years past. One key reason is that I am finally coming to terms with some of my demons that have haunted me for years. Another key reason is the addition of Oliver, our beagle, to the family.

The addition of a dog has changed our camping experience for the better. Oliver is an instant four-legged icebreaker. On our last camping trip, one of the volunteer camp host couples pulled into our campsite, apologized for the intrusion, then told us how much they admired our beagle.

We've spoken to several other beagle owners about owning perhaps the most stubborn breed in the canine world. We've had other dog owners apologize for the behavior of their dogs even as we have been compelled to apologize for Oliver. As a lifelong introvert, the whole transformation caused in the amount we interact with other campers simply by adding a dog to our family has been incredible.

I have come to truly love camping, even the setting up. I enjoy cooking at nearly all times, but it is even more fun when camping, especially when I can surprise with whatever I create. The food almost always seems to taste better. The wine most certainly does. The sunsets seem more spectacular, the stars seem brighter, and the moon seems closer.

Teresa calculates that, based on the amount of nights we already have scheduled and reserved this season, we will top the 100-night mark in the tent trailer we bought in June, 2006. With a little luck and perhaps a fall outing or two, we might push that number closer to 110. Most of them have been truly wonderful. We've been to some really lovely settings, and we've only scratched the surface. One day, we hope to make such outings a full-time adventure. I can't wait!

Memorial Day Weekend

2009-05-21T21:50:00.003-06:00

It's here at last, Memorial Day weekend, the unofficial start to summer. If you're like most people, you'll be doing one of two things: camping or getting together with friends and/or family to do a little grilling and perhaps a little more drinking.

I will actually be doing a bit of both. Teresa, Christopher and I will be camping in eastern Oregon this weekend. While we're in our home away from home, I expect we'll do a little drinking, especially some red wine with some grilled steaks on Saturday. I also plan to try my hand at making some apple cobbler in our dutch oven.

I hope each of you has a wonderful and safe holiday weekend. Whatever you'll be doing this weekend, I hope you will take a few moments to remember the real reason for Memorial Day.

Whether you agreed with the specific policies at the time or not (and I disagreed with many of them), take a moment to honor those who did their duty as it was given to them and in the end paid the ultimate price. Because we as people are sometimes unable or unwilling to understand, accept, or tolerate a point of view that does not agree with our own, others are asked to put themselves in harm's way

Perhaps one day, those we remember on Memorial Day will seem to have come from an almost mythical past, somewhat in the same sense that we now think about the medieval era (the legends of King Arthur, for example). Sadly, though, I feel we are destined to continue to try to resolve our differences on the battlefield and that there will be new names to remember on Memorial Days to come. Would that it were not so.

Convergence

2009-05-18T21:04:00.005-06:00

These days, it seems as if time is folding in upon itself. Since joining Facebook several weeks back I have been able to engage in an electronic form of time travel.

In the last few weeks, I have reconnected, albeit superficially perhaps, with two people I went to college with years ago (32 and 15 years, respectively), another handful of people I worked with in another lifetime when I was in television, a couple of friends I haven't seen or spoken to in more than a decade, and even a couple of family members I last spoke to seven years ago.

As a result of joining Facebook, my past has come careening into my present. Thanks to joining Facebook, I had the opportunity to meet up with a friend from my days living in Alabama, a visit that would not have occurred if not for Facebook.

Now that this time spiral has begun, there seems no end to the potential pieces of my past I might encounter again. Last night, I got a call from my cousin Vince, whom I had not spoken to in nearly seven years. It so happened he was going to be laying over in Boise and wondered if he could stay the night with us.

We had a nice, although short visit before he flew out for home this morning. I was struck by the fact that he sounded the same as he did the last time we talked but looked more like his dad than ever.

Although his visit was not directly connected to my having joined Facebook, it seems that act has set a whole chain of events into motion. I spent years running and hiding from large chunks of my past. Now it seems Facebook has become one of the tools (along with therapy) through I can stop the running and make peace with the more negative aspects of my past and embrace the good pieces that also got left behind. And that's a good thing.

A Little Wordplay

2009-05-04T19:52:00.003-06:00

I was coming out of my therapy session on Friday, and I noticed three or four EXIT signs in the space of what seemed like 20 feet. My mind, being twisted the way it is, started to play around with the word.

After seeing the third EXIT sign, I started to read it as "Ex-It," as in the flavor of the month celebrity. We are big believers in celebrity. The vast majority of us kneel at the altar of fame.

I suppose it's always been that way. In the 1920s, the world went wild for Charles Lindbergh after he flew across the Atlantic. These days, we have massive parades for every sports team that wins a championship in its respective league.

Of course, not everyone can be a famous aviator or athlete, but most of us want our moment in the sun, our time in the spotlight. Leave it to television to provide not one but several "solutions."

First, there was the good old game show. Some, like Jeopardy, require some ability or talent. Others, like Let's Make a Deal and The Gong Show, only seemed to require a willingness to throw all human restraint out the window.

Now, with shows like American Idol, people can combine their quest for fame or notoriety with their need for instant gratification, provided they fit the right age demographic and are prepared to fade from public view almost as far as they arrived.

Aside from Kelly Clarkson and Carrie Underwood, has any winner or finalist from American Idol shown any staying power? Ruben Studdard is now trying to make a living in touring companies of Broadway shows. What about Clay Aiken and Taylor Hicks? Whither they?

Chances are, those who have fallen so fast will not be back. We live in a society searching so frantically for the Next Big Thing we have no time for "yesterday's news." While we say we like a good comeback story, we seldom allow it to happen.

One notable exception, for better or worse, appears to be Britney Spears. For several years starting in the late 1990s, Britney was definitely "it." Her face and voice (not to mention her lack of attire) were everywhere. Then she spiraled out of control and, if anything, became more famous, because if there is anything we like more than a successful celebrity it is one rushing headlong toward the inevitable train wreck.

Yet, just as things began to quiet down and Britney was moving toward "Ex-It" status, she managed to stage what so far has been a fairly successful comeback. Perhaps it is only a temporary reprieve from "Ex-It" status. If that is in fact the case, she will have plenty of company as an "Ex-It."

Isn't it funny the journey one's mind can take just from looking at a sign.

As promised and without further ado

2009-04-30T21:25:00.004-06:00

I did say I would put up a few writing samples, so here are three. The first is a poem; the remaining two are song lyrics. Don't be afraid to tell me what you think.

Apocalypse

I am walking on a dark deserted road
With nothing to light my way
And no one to break the unbearable
Silence that engulfs me.
I trip, then stumble, reaching out
Into blackness to brace myself
Against thin air should I start to fall.
I cannot see far enough ahead
To know which direction I should turn
Which way leads to safety?
Which will put me in harm's way?
I expect no answer and am not disappointed.

As I walk, my mind's television
Replays past episodes in a non-stop marathon.
Even knowing how each one ends
They still have the power to shock, to hurt.
Now that's entertainment!

My trip through dusty mental corridors
Is interrupted when, in the distance,
I hear a young boy's voice call out for help.
I walk toward the sound
But it remains ever distant.
Can I close the distance
And reach the voice in time?

Running now, I try to reach him, to save him
From that imagined and unseen Fate
With such power to terrify. Still,
The voice keeps calling to me
But it is more faint, as if resigned
To that unknown which awaits it.

Running, I struggle to reach the voice
When suddenly, the sound is gone.
The voice is silent.
I am too late. The child is gone.
At once, there is awareness
As the all too powerful truth reveals itself.

In that instant, I realize
The child is me. And I am lost.

Broken

See the old man shuffle down the street
He turns his eyes from every face he meets
The things he's done, the pain he feels inside
No one can guess

In Vietnam, he won a Silver Star
But lost his wife because he'd gone too far
Now he locks it all down deep within
And does his best

Broken and beaten down
Patiently hoping things will turn around
But if you listen close, you'll hear the sound
Of uncried tears and unvoiced fears
Broken and bruised inside
Simply searching for a place to hide
From the memories of dreams that died
Lost long ago

See the young girl lying on the ground
Twelve stories later, peace she's finally found
What caused the break, what was the final straw
No one can know

Turned out on the street at 17
She tried to stay nice in a world turned mean
Until at 21, she'd seen enough
And let it go

Broken and beaten down
Finally gave up hope things would turn around
But in the final silence echoes sounds
Of uncried tears and unvoiced fears
Broken and bruised inside
Taking flight to find a place to hide
From the memories of dreams that died
Not long ago

Like a puzzle with a missing piece
A glass that's shattered on the ground
Something left them feeling incomplete
And what they sought was never found

The old man lives life in a private hell
Goes through the motions answering the bell
Searching for answers in a wishing well
They're buried deep

Broken and beaten down
Desparately hoping things will turn around
But if you listen close, you'll hear the sound
Of uncried tears and unvoiced fears
Broken and bruised inside
Simply searching for a place to hide
From the memories of dreams that died
Lost long ago

Memories of dreams down deep inside
He can't let go

Now, to end on a brighter note (think Bruce Springsteen's "Fire" crossed with Dr. John and a little Mardi Gras flavor):

With Arms Open Wide

I saw you standing in the corner -
I thought I'd take a closer look -
And when I got you on the dance floor
You know one dance is all it took -

I thought that this could be forever -
I felt that you could be the one -
But girl, now please don't let me rush you -
I know the fun has just begun -

But when I look into your eyes I see
Something I've never seen before
I see a window into someone else's heart
And right beside it there's an open door
I think I'll take a chance and walk on through
To see what's on the other side
I hope that I will find you waiting there for me
With arms open wide

I know it shouldn't be this simple -
I know that I should shop around -
But I know I'll find nothing better -
Than what I've already found -

(instrumental - horns)

But when I look into your eyes I see
Something I've never seen before
I see a window into someone else's heart
And right beside it there's an open door
I think I'll take a chance and walk on through
To see what's on the other side
I hope that I will find you waiting there for me
With arms open wide

I know it shouldn't be this simple -
I know that I should shop around -
But I know I'll find nothing better -
Than what I've already found -

(instrumental - horns out)

"Face" time

2009-04-30T12:25:00.005-06:00

I recently joined the millions of people who are a part of the Facebook family. It is amazing to see so many familiar names already a part of this social network. Even more amazing to me is that Facebook allows me to time travel in a way.

When I first signed up for my Facebook account, I decided to search around and see if I could find some of the faces from my more distant past. To my amazement, I found someone I went to school with in the 1970s, someone I worked with 20 years ago, and someone I went to school with in the mid-1990s.

I'm not sure this is what Einstein had in mind with his theory of relativity and his idea that one could travel in time if they could go faster than the speed of light. But to me it is a form of time travel and on several levels.

First, there is for me the sense of traveling back in time as reconnect with people from my distant past. In this regard, I think there is also a sense of rewriting history as I am able to at least slightly alter the endings of these relationships.

There is also a sense of time standing still or at least a blurring between past and present (and perhaps future) as I move back and forth amongst the people from my past and those of my present. I find myself at times trying to remember what I was like in these other lives and balance that against and with the person I am today.

Conversely, there is also a sense of time rushing past at a rate faster than normal. Having only been a "Facebooker" for a few days, I already see the potential for spending and even losing hours at a time posting, commenting on others' posts, searching for new friends, and checking to see which friends are online.

There is a similar contradiction in the whole notion of the "friend" on Facebook. Facebook offers the promise of connection with others, but I can already see just how illusory that promise can be. If someone confirms you as a friend or you confirm someone else as a friend but there is no subsequent interaction, just how much of a connection is there?

That is the double-edged sword of Facebook. There can be connection to the point of over-saturation, perhaps even addiction. At the same time, there is also the danger of public isolation for all to see. I have already come across a number of people for whom, when I click on their names, Facebook says they have no friends.

At the other end of the spectrum are those who have hundreds of friends, maybe more. (As I write this, I have 12.) Just how connected can one person be with hundreds of others? And just how connected can any one of those hundreds of people feel?

Does having such a large network of "friends" diminish the meaning and the sense of either connection or friendship? Or is this merely the next step in multitasking the many facets of our lives: work, family, friends, leisure? I'll be watching and reading on Facebook to see if I can answer that question for myself.

Warmer Weather and Other Random Thoughts

2009-04-28T12:32:00.005-06:00

It's been a couple of months since my last post. So it is high time I updated this blog.

My last post had to do with our then new to the family Beagle, Oliver, and the impact he has had on me. That impact continues to grow, emotionally and, sadly, financially. This past week I had to take him back to the vet for another ear infections - $200, Ouch! My wife refers to Oliver as the "grand" dog because that's how much we have spent on him so far.

Now that the weather is starting to warm up around here we are dealing with another issue, shedding. So far, Oliver has left us enough hair to knit a fair-sized area rug.

On the plus side, the warmer weather is giving us a chance to find out how much fun camping with a dog can be. We made one trip out April 17-19 and hope to get out again soon, maybe this weekend. I think Oliver made the trip a much more memorable experience for all of us.

Since the last post, I hosted a dinner party for friends at our house. I think we ended up with ten or 11 people in all, and I know I had a great time cooking for everyone. I think they all had a good time eating as well. I hope to do something similar sometime in the fall. I love cooking for others and having the chance to get together with friends and hopefully get to know them better.

In the meantime, I continue the journey to know myself better. It has now been almost five months since I started seeing a therapist, and I feel I have come quite a ways although I am still most definitely a work in progress. I can say, though, that I feel like I am starting to cut away some of the scar tissue left by the events of my childhood.

I'm writing lyrics again, something I did quite frequently in my teens and 20s. I stopped when I got married because I thought I no longer needed to do that. These days, I find perhaps more than ever that writing lyrics allows me to get to some of the emotions long buried in me and to also express what for me are new emotions. Look for samples in future posts.

I could keep going, but I guess I'll save something for the next post. Until then, be well. Be happy.

Therapy of the four-legged variety

2009-02-13T21:49:00.005-07:00

It's been a little more than a month since my last post. I hadn't realized how much time had passed. Time for an update.

I've now been in therapy for just over two months. A few things have changed. I feel myself now moving slowly in the right direction. I recognize the journey ahead is a long one, but I feel I am now at least moving.

One big change is the addition of a four-legged member to our family. Oliver is a four-year old Beagle, and he has brought me a great deal of joy since joining our family. Here's a shot of the newest member of the family:

As you can see, he is a real sweetheart. Even though he is four, there is still a little of the puppy in him.

Even after a bad or a hard day at work, Oliver has the ability to brighten my day as soon as I get in the door. Friends of mine with dogs are not surprised by this, but I have to admit I was amazed at just how much of an effect this little bundle of love and energy has on me.

While my therapist and I continue to work on life-ling issues that keep me from truly living my life, Oliver has the cure for what ails me on a day-to-day basis. I am so glad to have him in my life and in the family.

Mixed Feelings and Thoughts on Eternal Life

2009-01-11T23:07:00.004-07:00

Is it possible to feel both good and bad at the same time? If so, how does one balance the two emotions to keep from slipping into utter chaos? That is the challenge I wrestle with at the moment.

The good feeling stems from the fact that my wife was promoted last week, on her birthday no less. I am happy for her and proud of her. She certainly deserves it. We celebrated the events (promotion and birthday) by going to dinner with our son to a nice Italian restaurant. No one can say we aren't doing our part to stimulate the economy.

The bad feeling comes from the fact that my best friend lost her job last week. It was a job she took because her existing job had been moved to my location and to me.

When she called to tell me what had happened, she went out of her way to make sure I wasn't feeling guilty about the turn of events. As she rightly stated, her old job was going away whether I was the one who took it or not. I have, though, managed to feel guilty about that fact since she and I first met.

At the time of her call, however, I was not feeling guilty. I have since started to feel that way a little. Somewhere inside me is the notion that this latest job would have worked out if she had not had to divide her time between it and training me. In my head, I know there were other reasons for keeping the old job while beginning the new one, but my heart can't quite escape the guilty feeling.

Worse still, her day had started with her having to have her 13-year old dog put to sleep. For those like her who are able to form special bonds with their pets, having to put a pet down is like killing one of your children. It hurts like hell.

When I was a boy, my cat got into a fight with two dogs and lost. I sat with him for an hour or so until he died. Then I cried for him and for me and what had been lost. Last week, I cried for my friend and for her loss because I knew a little of what that loss felt like.

One thing I asked my friend to hold on to was the memories of the times she and her dog spent together. I told her and I believe that as long as we hold the memories in our hearts, that loved one, whether human or pet, is never really gone, never really dies. I am beginning to think that is part of what eternal life is, what it means to live forever.

The Three Ages of Man

2009-01-05T22:05:00.004-07:00

This is a topic I had considered writing about several weeks ago, prior to what could be termed my emotional meltdown. Somehow, with the onset of a new year and the reading I have been doing in the Conversations with God book series by Neale Donald Walsch, the time seems right to return to this notion and set down my thoughts.

First, let me say that I am not speaking of historical eras, such as the Industrial Age. No, the three ages of man that I am concerned with are internal components of each one of us. Those three ages are: emotional, intellectual, and physical. Together, the make up what could be termed our relative age.

In some respect, each of these ages are moving targets, and they are not always advancing upward, not even our physical age. For instance, how often have you heard someone say they feel like a kid again? Or, perhaps in the midst of an adrenaline rush, they are able to do something they had been unable to do for years.

For some of us, our physical age seems to advance exponentially rather than incrementally. I am 52, but there are days when I feel more like 72 due to occasional hip pain that extends into my knee. Stiffness in my back sometimes causes me to hobble around (at least until I am warmed up a bit) like someone much older.

With regard to intellectual age, how often have you said or heard someone else say "she's wise beyond her years" or "he has the mind of a child"? Then of course there is the child who is so brilliant mentally he or she is able to enter college at the age of 12 or 13. Physically and emotionally, this youngster is 12 or 13, but intellectually, he or she is 18 or 19 or even older.

Finally, there is the emotional age. Often, we hear about this age in a negative sense, such as when a parent admonishes a child for "acting like a two-year old." This age can also be impacted by trauma of some sort in the home, such as when a parent dies or when a child is excessively sheltered.

In my case, this is the age I have the most difficulty pinpointing. Because of my parent's divorce when I was five, followed by living in some fairly abusive relationships as a child accompanied by nearly complete withholding of human affection at times, my emotional age is nowhere near as advanced as my physical or intellectual age.

I often have trouble connecting with people or getting close to them for that matter. In fact, the closest friendship I currently have would likely have never developed if it had not been for e-mail. Face to face, I move much more slowly and defensively, to the point that most people don't take the time, and I don't blame them.

I also suspect that I can, at times, behave in a manner more befitting a 15-year old with a crush than a 52-year old adult. My emotional development has been stifled in some regards, so that it is sometimes difficult for me to know or to recognize when a line has been crossed and behavior begins to border on the inappropriate.

This is an issue I struggle with (as do many, I suspect) as I begin to get more accustomed to the simple idea of feeling and expressing feeling. The balance is not yet there, but with the help of friends, family, and professionals, it will come in time.

The Conversations with God books talk about the idea that there is really no such thing as time, that now is all there is. The implication in this is that each moment is made up of past, present, and future, and that they are in some ways interchangeable. When I think of the fluid nature of age when thought of in terms of the three ages I have discussed here, that whole notion seems to make much more sense.

Looking Forward to 2009

2009-01-01T11:11:00.004-07:00

The new year is upon us, and what a year it promises to be. Global economic meltdown, war and unrest nearly everywhere you turn, in short, not much cause for celebration.

Yet that it what many people around the world did last night, and in my own quiet way, I was among them. On a macro scale, there may not be reason for optimism, but on a micro scale there is, for each new year brings another chance for renewal. This year, I intend to take it.

When I was younger and somewhat idealistic, I made New Year's resolutions, ten of them each year, systematically, right at midnight. As I got older and less idealistic, I stopped making resolutions because I found I was unable or unwilling to keep any of them.

This year, my 53rd on this planet, I have decided to make some resolutions again because I know in heart this year will not be like any other I have lived. For me, that will be a good thing.

The end of 2008 saw me begin therapy and begin a journey into myself. That journey will continue in 2009 as I work to tear down the inner walls that have kept me from achieving all that I am capable of, loving others more fully and more deeply, and truly being a part of the human condition.

I am lucky and blessed to have the love and support of a wonderful wife, Teresa, who has stuck by me through good and bad for 15 years. She has seen what was possible in me and waited patiently for me to see it too.

I am equally blessed to have the encouragement, support, and friendship of perhaps the best friend I have ever had. Heidi's encouragement and caring nature helped me to find the road back to myself and to begin the journey toward inner healing.

I am very lucky to have two truly special women in my life. For them and for the others who share a part of my journey, I want to make 2009 my year of change. I want to begin the work toward becoming the best me I can be. Toward that end, I have made six resolutions for the coming year:

To be more open.

This is a somewhat open-ended resolution, and it is meant to be. I hope to become more open to my feelings, to new experiences, and to those around me. I will work to not close myself off from others and make myself distant and unapproachable.
To make new and more connections with others.

I have had a number of wonderful people pass in and out of my life through the years, and I have managed to lose touch, lose connection with all of them. I am now fortunate to know some wonderful people, a few of whom I call friends, others whom I hope to be able to call friends in 2009. That will require me not closing off from others.
To release the writer inside me and to make the time to write.

For years, I have always said I wanted to be a writer, but outside of a few spurts here and there I did not write. I spent more than a decade in broadcasting because it gave me a writing outlet, but I never pursued much writing beyond that. Lately, I have begun writing lyrics and poetry again. This blog is also an extension of my rediscovered desire to write. In 2009, I intend to continue this blog and to extend into short stories and perhaps other fiction.
To grow as a husband, as a father, and as a friend.

These three areas represent my greatest shortcomings in the past, as I have not been all I could be in any of these areas. That will change in 2009, even as it began to change at the end of 2008. Teresa and Heidi have already given me opportunities to grow in two of those areas. My son will, no doubt, provide ample opportunity to grow in the remaining area.
To open the door to my life and to be the change I seek.

This resolution comes out of reading the Conversations with God series of books by Neale Donald Walsch, which I highly recommend. One of the themes that runs through these books is the idea of believing you already have whatever it is you seek and you will find that you have it.
To take better care of myself and of the gifts I have been given.

I have abilities I have never taken full advantage of or used to their fullest capability. 2009 is the year that starts to change. The care I speak of is three-fold: physical, mental, and emotional. I have begun the process toward taking better emotional care of myself, which will also help bring my mental side into better balance. As that occurs, I will then add in the physical component so that I can better enjoy the people and the things around me.

I hope 2009 also turns into a year of tremendous opportunity and growth for each of you.

Merry Christmas

2008-12-25T00:25:00.002-07:00

The last gifts have been wrapped and put under the tree. My son and my wife have both gone to bed, and I sit here early on this Christmas morning and ponder what it is I truly want this year.

For most of the run up to this Christmas I have been dreading the day and its arrival. Now that it is here, however, I am at last ready for it. I am ready for the anticipation and the joy in my son's face when he opens a package to find something he asked for as well as the disappointment he will no doubt express when he doesn't get everything he asked for.

There will probably be a few packages under the tree with my name on them, but I have already received the best Christmas gifts I have ever been given - an opportunity for redemption, a chance to redeem my life and live it as it always should have been lived. Not in fear or guilt but in love and joy.

What made that gift possible was a possibly even greater gift - the gift of one person to another. One person who could easily have treated me with resentment and even hatred but instead showed kindness and compassion. She gave of herself and of her self. In the process, she pointed the way to my self and helped to set me on the road to wholeness.

Heidi, mere words of thanks do not seem adequate. You rose above your own cares to offer me encouragement and friendship. That gift is beyond measure. I truly believe you were sent by God to help me find my way out of the wilderness. For that, I will always be grateful.

My wish for everyone this Christmas and in the new year to come is that each of you will find such a friend. They are hard to come by, but when you do find such a friend you are truly rich beyond compare. This Christmas, I count myself amongst the richest men on Earth. I have a family that loves me and a friend who encourages me and allows me to be more than I have ever been. I am truly blessed.

Merry Christmas!

Two Steps Forward . . .

2008-12-17T21:32:00.002-07:00

My first week of therapy is now behind me; today was my fourth session in just eight days. It has been quite a roller coaster ride already, and I feel as if I am enrolled in an intensive crash course designed to explore the psyche.

Oddly enough, I measure how good a session was not by whether I feel better afterward but by whether I cried during the session. Today I cried.

Monday I did not cry, and I viewed the session as a bit of a setback. My therapist (it still seems odd to me to use that phrase) said she sensed me teetering on the verge of closing off again from my feelings. I knew it as well. I was retreating back into myself.

But as my friend reminded me, we had discussed the probability that there would be times when these reversals would occur. And I had already concluded in my own mind that on any given day it did not matter whether I moved forward or backward as long as I kept moving and did not stand still. For to stand still is to stagnate and to stagnate is to die.

I think my biggest challenge in the early going is not to expect too much out of these sessions and also not to expect too little. I have always tended to do one of two things in my dealings with the world around me: set myself up for disappointment by creating impossible expectations or protect myself from disappointment by setting my expectations so low that I am willing to settle for nothing.

My expectations or at least my hopes started out high because I looked at this latest attempt at therapy (having tried a few times in my 20s) as a fight for my life. Not so much whether I live or die but whether I truly live or merely exist. I tempered those expectations by remembering how many years I have lived in pain, in fear, and in loneliness: hurt by the crimes against my youth, afraid of what I'll find inside me or what others won't, alone because I could not get close to others and could not seem to let others in.

As I have relayed some of the events of my youth and their effects on me to my therapist, the tears have flowed freely. But the telling and the crying take a lot of energy, so on Monday I pulled back a little. Whether to give myself a rest, to protect myself in my vulnerability, or for some other reason, I do not know.

What I do know is that today I cried again. The things I talked about, the feelings they stirred in me hurt deeply. But the tears felt good. I was hurt but I was alive. So today's was a good session.

Thoughts on Therapy

2008-12-11T19:02:00.003-07:00

Yesterday, I began what promises to be a long journey toward better self-awareness, self understanding, and perhaps most importantly, self forgiveness and self love. I started therapy.

The first visit, an assessment, I was told, was painful and covered a lot of ground and a lot of feelings: feelings of abandonment, of failure, of hopelessness, even of dying. So much for small talk.

I have come to see this as my journey back to life, and I know it will not be an easy one. As my wife has said, there may be times when I take one step forward and two steps back. I know that and I think I am ready for it. As long as I keep moving, then the journey will continue. It is only in stopping that danger lies for it means I have retreated to the familiar, even comfortable status quo because it is pain I know.

It is said that without pain we cannot know joy. As I bring the pain of my youth and my adult life into the light and hold onto that in hopes I will one day know the joy.

A friend of mine sent me a picture of her and her boyfriend smiling and embracing life. They are my model for they have shown me what happiness looks like and what is truly possible. I hope one day to return a picture of me and my family smiling back at them. May it be so.

Random Thoughts

2008-12-09T16:49:00.003-07:00

I've always had a hard time making friends. I suspect that is because I see a friend as someone more than a person to talk sports or politics or music with. To me, a friend has always been someone with whom you could share your deepest hopes and fears and dreams, even more than perhaps you can with your spouse.

I am at present lucky enough to have such a friend. How long the friendship will last, given the intensity of the things we sometimes talk about, I won't try to guess. She may decide the friendship needs to end in order to preserve her own sanity, and who could blame her? Certainly not I.

Tomorrow, I begin the journey of a lifetime as I begin what may be weeks, months, or more likely years of therapy to help me dig up and expose to the light issues that date back to my childhood. My friend has been a support and encouragement in this process that lead to my decision to seek help.

As I told her, for too long I have been treading water, and I am now starting to get tired. Therapy is my chance at a life preserver before I get too tired to grab it. While there are no guarantees in therapy, I am certain I am lost without it. I look at this as the fight of my life and for my life. My friend believes I can make it, and I am very appreciative of that belief in me.

For too long, my life has been nothing more than going through the motions. For some time to come, it will be a day by day process, but with the help and support of my family and of my dear friend, I can come out on the other side and one day walk in the light instead of hiding in the darkness.

Be well.

Slippin' Into Darkness

2008-12-07T12:48:00.004-07:00

The title of the old War song seems appropriate these days, as that is what I feel is happening to my life.

I don't know how to explain it except that it feels a bit like walking in a fog with limited visibility. Each step must be planned and taken carefully lest you slip and completely lose your balance. That is my life at present.

I have been unable to explain to my wife or my son what is going on. I don't really know how. So we dance this uncomfortable dance of trying not to say or do the wrong thing, dancing to a tune none can hear.

Instead, I have burdened the one true friend I feel can understand these things to the point where if she were to tell me should could no longer be my friend I would understand and probably tell her she is doing the right thing. Assuming, of course, I could stop crying long enough to get the words out.

Crying has been one of the more interesting and frightening aspects of this descent. I have never been a very emotional person, always saying what I thought was the right thing but never really feeling anything. I had all but assumed I could not feel, I had buried things away for so long.

But in the last two weeks I have cried, more than I have in the last 20 years, I suspect. Two boxes of tissues in two days. If I'm not at rock bottom yet, I can see it from where I wallow.

And when I am not crying, I'm nearly comatose. I look in the mirror and I see the epitome of what they used to call Buster Keaton, "The Great Stone Face". Only sadder.

I am now in full-blown survival mode as I try to get from one day to the next until my first of what i suspect will be many sessions of professional help. To those who are standing by me, thank you. I'm sorry for what I have put you through. If God believes in me, perhaps things will one day be a little brighter. Until then, I struggle to find my way through the darkness and the shadows.

Happy Birthday to Me

2008-12-05T06:34:00.002-07:00

Today is my 52nd birthday. With apologies to Charles Dickens, it is the best of birthdays; it is the worst of birthdays.

The best: I have a friend who has helped me try to reconnect with my inner self, which has been closed and shuttered for so long. I have a family that loves me. And I am lucky enough to have a decent job in these job economic times.

The worst: The realization that I am a self-destructive individual who tries to sabotage everything worthwhile in his life (including, I fear, said friendship) because of a deep-seated feeling that I do not deserve anything good in my life and a long held sense of worthlessness.

I am supposed to go out tonight with friends to celebrate my birthday, and I worry about which side I will show them. Will I be able to show them a happy side? Or, as I fear, will they see the way I feel: like a car dangerously close to being out of control whose brakes have already failed as a steep downhill approaches?

Right now, I have no clue. When I don't feel like crying I feel, in the words of Pink Floyd, "comfortably numb".

Because of that up and down, part of me feels there are better days ahead. Another part, however, senses that the worst is still to come. Then the fight truly begins. God give me strength.

A Birthday Gift

2008-12-03T12:08:00.005-07:00

In two days, I mark my 52nd birthday. (Celebrate seems a bit too strong a word at the moment.) My wife has asked me what I want for my birthday, and I can think of no thing I need or desire, except that which is currently out of the financial realm of possibility. Plus, a motorhome would not fit easily into a box.

Actually, I have probably already received the best birthday gift I have ever been given - the gift of another person's friendship. Given the circumstances under which we met (as explained in an earlier post), it is surprising that we became friends. The speed at which we became friends is perhaps even more surprising.

Today, I got the news from my friend that she will be leaving the company for which we both work January 2 to take another, hopefully more lucrative job. It is sooner than I would hope for, although I certainly understand and support her reasons. Thankfully, it is a little later than I was afraid of. I believe we will remain friends, although the circumstances will change as I will no longer have the instant gratification of being able to pick up the phone and call her as we are both working. That may be a good thing, at least for her.

For several years in the 1990s, I was in the habit of throwing my own birthday party, cooking dinner for those who came, and giving them presents rather than receiving them. In the spirit of that somewhat short-lived tradition, I want to give a present to my newest and deepest friend. It has been some time since I tried my hand at poetry, so I hope it will not offend or come across as too cheesy.

Ode To A Friend

When inner darkness threatens to engulf

That which beats within me

You bring much needed sunlight

And shine it on my icy soul.

Your understanding countenance

Rekindles the fading spark inside

And breathes new fire into dying embers

Saved from myself again.

I am rescued from despair's dark depths.

Your kind thought, verbally caresses

Restoring in me the strength

To do battle once more and face the coming day.

You selflessly give the greatest gift,

Accepting me, warts and all, this unholy, ungodly mess

And show me my better, most possible self.

Whether Philia or Agape or some of both, I do not know.

You hold me tender in your thoughts and words

And I am washed clean by my tears

Raised up by your kindness

You honor me more than I deserve

This crowning achievement made possible

By a gentle heart I can never hope to repay.

My meager gift so sparse compared

To all that you have given

But I give it freely, gratefully, with thanks.

For what special tribute, far-reaching accolade

Do I wax so freely and without abandon?

No more and certainly no less than this -

You called me friend.

This badge of honor I most proudly wear

Today and all of my tomorrows

Until that which flows within runs to dust.

This gift you offer me I now offer back

and call you friend.

To be so much and nothing else, it is enough.

For I am rich beyond compare.

Happy birthday to me.

The True $pirit of Chri$tma$

2008-12-01T22:29:00.002-07:00

The temporary insanity know as the Christmas shopping season is upon us. The day known as Black Friday in the retail world came and went with better than expected sales and just one minor disruption: a man's death.

A temporary worker at a Long Island Wal-Mart was trampled to death, not because he refused to honor a rain check or a competitor's ad but because he could not open the store's doors and get out of the way fast enough to avoid dozens of crazed shoppers trying to be the first ones to save 25-percent on next year's "Oh, I forgot we even had this" item.

Wal-Mart will rightly come in for its share of criticism and condemnation for not anticipating and properly preparing for this type of situation . Based on the events of the last several Christmas shopping seasons, any responsible retailer could have foreseen that it was only a matter of time before someone was killed.

In fact, several other retailers, such as best Buy, did foresee this possibility and were prepared appropriately. Wal-Mart, however, rolled back common sense when they rolled back prices for the start of the shopping season.

But the blame is not Wal-Mart's alone. We as consumers are as much to blame. Our need to always have the latest and greatest whatchamacallit fuels these shopping frenzies and increases the likelihood each year that such tragedies can occur until this year one finally did.

For a number of years it has been all over but the shouting. Now it is official. We have truly lost the meaning and perhaps as importantly the spirit of Christmas. The holiday is at last best marked with "Merry Xmas" rather than "Merry Christmas".

Christmas, of course, began as a day to mark and celebrate the birth of Christ. But even atheists celebrated the season as one in which to promote peace on earth and goodwill toward humanity. The Christmas season was a time when we each stopped to reflect on our better sides and on our hopes for a better world.

Now, all of that seems gone. A man has died. Unlike the first Christmas-related fatality two-thousand years ago, this death will not be followed by a resurrection.

Being Lonely versus Being Alone

2008-11-27T18:13:00.001-07:00

I sit here typing in the middle of a deserted campground - deserted save for me, my wife, and my son - the three of us in our tent trailer, the only inhabitants of this state park campground. As I sit and type, I realize I am lonely.

I was often lonely when I was single, so I always equated the feeling of loneliness with being alone. Yet I am not alone here. Still, I feel lonely. A sense of melancholy hangs over me as I realize how little I fit in with those around me even when there is no one around me. This feeling was eased a little when a couple other campers set up in this campground, but it did not go away entirely.

For instance, what does it say about me when the person I see as my best friend, the person with whom I feel the greatest sense of connection in the outside world is someone who lives more than 300 miles away in another state and is someone I may never actually see again? Whatever it says, I can't imagine it is all that good.

When I was single, I always had the excuse of being alone to explain my loneliness. There was some comfort in that because it created the sense that I could end my loneliness simply by being around other people.

That is how I have always dealt with that loneliness - by putting myself in a setting where I could surround myself with others. Yet I never really made a connection with any of them or them with me. I was still lonely, and I still felt alone.

I managed to escape that feeling or at least delude myself that I had escaped it after my marriage. I was busy enough trying to be a decent husband and later a decent father that I rarely had time to feel lonely or alone.

Lately, though, that has changed. I changed jobs and have yet to make any friends in my new position aside from the aforementioned friend in another state. Part of that is the new workplace itself. Everyone is usually very busy, and that makes it hard to make a connection. The other part of it is somewhat geographical. I sit all but alone in my area of the department. The nearest people to me are almost all managers.

The third part of it is something lacking in me. I am not by nature an extremely warm or outgoing person. As a result, people do not tend to gravitate to me. At times, I suspect I come off as cold or aloof.

At other times, I may come across as too needy because I do recognize this giant hole in my life. For whatever reason, there are times when my wife and son are unable to fill this gap. Because of that, I think I end up distancing myself from them and making my problem worse.

Some might label this depression, and perhaps they are right. Perhaps it is the feeling of growing old and not having accomplished anything I thought I would. Or perhaps it is simply the onset of the holiday season and realizing that again this year we will not see friends or family over Thanksgiving or Christmas. Perhaps it is all of the above.

After all of that, perhaps there is no real difference between feeling lonely and feeling alone, merely scale. (The physicality of being alone is another matter.) And right now, the scale tips way out of balance.

Giving Thanks

2008-11-26T12:00:00.000-07:00

It is that time of year once again when young and old alike gorge themselves on a traditional Thanksgiving dinner, whether it be turkey or ham (in our case, turkey), with all the trimmings. Then, they'll collapse on the sofa to watch the traditional Thanksgiving football blowout and watch a bunch of other overstuffed men run around and get exercise for them.

Despite recent economic events, we are lucky to live in a country where so many of us have reason to be thankful. I invite you to take some time on Thanksgiving to make a mental list of those things for which you are thankful and then give silent thanks for each of them. Here's my list:

I am thankful for my family, first and foremost. They ground me and give me sanctuary from the emotional storms in which I sometimes find myself.

I am thankful that I live in an area that lends itself to outdoor activity and that I have the ability and desire to enjoy such activity, whether it be camping, bike riding, or snowshoeing. In fact, we will be camping over Thanksgiving.

I am thankful for new friends, old friends, and lost friends. Each has been an important part of my journey. I remember lost friends fondly even as I mourn their loss. I cherish the people who are part of my life now and hope they will remain a part of my life for years to come. I relish the new friends I have made or will make and pray I will not abuse or squander the gift they have given me.

Yet I know that there are also those who will struggle to find something this Thanksgiving for which they are thankful. I hope you will join me in saying a kind word or in thinking a good thought for them as you sit down to your holiday meal this year.

May you find plenty for which to be thankful this year. May you have even more for which to be thankful in the year to come. Happy Thanksgiving.