Crimes and Misdemeanors and Other Thoughts

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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:

1. 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.
   
   
2. 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.
   
   
3. 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.
   
   
4. 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.
   
   
5. 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.
   
   
6. 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

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 . . .

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

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

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

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

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

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$

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

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

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.

Requiem For A Friend

I cried for a friend last night. Those tears did not come because I had received news that some tragedy occurred. In a sense, my tears were tears of anticipated grief. First, some history.

This friend and I are co-workers, separated by some 340 miles. The circumstances of our friendship are potentially the stuff of soap operas. You see, in essence, I was hired to take her place with her in the awkward role of training her replacement. I had, just a little earlier, escaped a similar fate when my previous position was outsourced.

She had every right to be angry, bitter, resentful, insert your adjective here. But she was none of those things. Instead, she was kind, helpful, supportive, and encouraging. Her demeanor was everything you would want from a trainer.

Her position had been moved here as part of a consolidation, and because she had a life where she lived, she was understandably reluctant to move. I had been in a similar type of position years earlier, and having to move is not fun, so I sympathized.

In fact, I felt guilty for, in essence, taking her job, not because of anything she said or did but because of everything she said or did. I began to feel as if a cruel trick had been played on her. Through it all, she remained supportive and helpful, and a mutual respect developed.

My training required her to make visits to my location, so we did meet twice. Both visits were friendly, and we developed a comfort level around each other. But a friendship had not yet begun to develop.

That began to occur, I think, after she returned to her home. As the new kid on the block, I had questions about the work, and I would ask them: over the phone, through instant messaging, via e-mail. After a while, we began to talk about other things: politics, music, feelings, life.

The odd thing about our budding friendship is that, for the most part, it has developed through e-mail. Perhaps that isn't such a surprise given the electronic age in which we live. In some ways, it is the 21st Century equivalent of having a pen pal.

In some sense, that may make it easier to sustain the friendship when she and I no longer have work as a common footing. Yet the same thing that may make it easier to keep the friendship alive may also make it easy to let it die. One day, one of us may decide to no longer answer the e-mail of the other. I certainly don't intend to let that happen, but who can say with certainty what the future holds. Something could happen to one or the other of us, and the remaining friend may be completely in the dark.

This sounds fatalistic, I know, but it is based on my past attempts to sustain relationships long distance. Life tends to get in the way. In my past career in journalism, I lost every friend I had because of moving to a new job in a new city. Because I make friends with great difficulty, each loss was very painful. To this day, I remember each of them with a mixture of good and bad feelings.

Yet I persisted, and I will continue to persist. I do not meet people easily, but I know I need them in my life. I hope this friendship lasts. I want it to last. It may not, but I will enjoy each moment of it while I do have it.

I am not a wise man, but I have finally learned one thing in my time here. The one thing worse than losing a friend is never having had the friend to begin with. Here's to you, my friend.

Cell Phones & Bathrooms: A "Sound" Combination?

A few months ago, the group I work with moved into a new building. Right away, I noticed something that struck me as being somewhat odd. Almost every time I would walk into the restroom, I would encounter someone carrying on a business conversation on the cell phone - right there in the bathroom.

Many times, they would be pacing across the floor. It was almost as if there were waiting to enter a bathroom stall and thought to themselves "Well, I might as well call back this client while I'm waiting."

Now, I know there are many people who like to sing in the shower because of the acoustics. In fact, I'm one of them. Rumor has it that several well known songs were recorded in a bathroom for that very reason.

Yes, the acoustical qualities of a bathroom can make even a somewhat mediocre singer sound better. But do business calls sound better, more authoritative, more informed because one end of the conversation takes place in the men's room?

Perhaps it's a consequence of our always connected society. Even some hourly workers keep cell phones with them at all times, for fear of missing out on something. Or perhaps it's to show how popular they are. Not having a cell phone myself, I'm not sure of the reasoning.

Then again, maybe it is an extension of our growing need to be able to multitask. (That's all the picture I am going to draw for you; you will need to do the rest.) So many employment ads list the ability to multitask as either a desired charactistic of the successful applicant or an outright requirement.

Fine. But couldn't that ability to multitask be demonstrated in a more classy manner? Say, something like putting on makeup and driving at the same time? Sorry, I can't answer that. I have to go to the bathroom and take an important call.

The Search for Fleeting Moments of Happiness

Of late, I have come to the conclusion that life is a somewhat mundane event, punctuated on occasion by what I call "fleeting moments of happiness." The number of these "fleeting moments" is what leads a person to decide whether his or her life is a happy one.

Such moments can range from the religious, such as First Communion or Bar Mitzvah (did you know there is a web site to help one plan a successful Bar Mitzvah?), to the emotional and possibly physical, such as a first date, a marriage, or the birth of a child. These punctuation marks in a life are what is remembered when that life ends.

I have also come to believe that successful people have more such "fleeting moments" than those who are not successful and are, in fact, capable of creating their own such moments. Such success can take many forms: abundant wealth, freedom to pursue and fulfill one's desires, a happy marriage. The list can go on.

Those fleeting moments are further punctuated by brief flashes: A memorable sunrise or sunset, a spectacular view, perhaps a wedding anniversary or a promotion at work.

The past few days have been a bit rough and have led me to search for my own "fleeting moments of happiness," to list them and consider the balance sheet. The list is not that long and contains nothing from my childhood.

There was the day I was baptized at the age of 28. A year later, I started building my own house through the sweat equity program of the Federal housing Authority (and lost the same house a few months later when I lost my job). There was the day I got married and the day a few years later when my son was born.

There have been a few memorable camping trips, including a visit to Redwoods National Park, which perhaps left feeling as close to God as I have in the last 20 years. Still, those moments seem fleeting indeed.

Thinking about such things led me to ask a philosophical question: Why are some people happy and others not? What can parents who come from an unhappy childhood do to ensure that there own children grow up somewhat happy? For that matter, what can adults who come from unhappy childhoods do to make their adult lives happier, and at what point does it become too late?

As I write this, another question occurs to me. If the world is constantly trying to achieve a state of equilibrium, then doesn't every happy person have to be balanced by an equally unhappy person? The way I feel some days, there must be one ecstatic person somewhere in this world. You're welcome.

A Fresh Start

For several months now, I have left this blog to languish, forgotten in the recesses of my disjointed mind. Now that the election is over and, as President-Elect Obama said "Change has come," I felt perhaps it was time to revisit this blog. In the spirit of the new President's message, change is coming to this blog.

Or should I say change is what came to this blog before now. My original intent for this blog was to provide a literal outlet for my mental meanderings. However, the heat of the summer's Presidential primaries led me to focus almost solely on politics. Now that the election is over, I can refocus or perhaps unfocus and return to my original intentions.

And so, I return intent on making this blog what I always wanted it to be: the random thoughts of a somewhat random man. In the coming weeks and months, I hope to write about the things that strike me as odd, contradictory, funny, perplexing, even confusing. In doing so, I will try to make this blog live up to the title I have given it and perhaps one person, after reading something I have written, will scratch his or her head and ask "Where the heck did that come from?" The blog title will then say it all.

Random Thoughts

My apologies for not having posted in the last few weeks. Allergies have been kicking my butt, not to mention the demands and needs of everyday life as well as the need and desire to get out camping again. Now on to some capsule thoughts.

Half a solution better than none? The Democrats' rules committee has decided how Florida and Michigan should be resolved: seat all of the delegates and give each one half a vote. How's that for half a solution? Hillary wins a moral victory, and Barack keeps most of his lead in delegates. Personally, I think the party should have stuck to its guns and kept the delegations out for breaking the rules. There were ways for moving up the primaries according to the rules, and neither state used them.

Obama leaves church. Barack Obama has decided to leave the church he has called his spiritual home for the past 20 years. Having left a church or two in my time, I know how hard a decision this can be. I also thought he made the right decision in choosing to leave while also showing his integrity and loyalty by resisting the earlier calls for him to leave.

To pod or not to pod. I've been reading a lot of late about podcasting and debating whether to try my hand at it. I'm intrigued by it, and it seems a way to get back to broadcasting of a sort, a field I worked in for a time many moons ago. The questions for me are: what type of podcast to do (I have several ideas), where to host it (also several ideas), and do I have the discipline and the passion to do this? For me, that is probably the biggest question.

My problem is that I am interested in a great many things, but I tend to drift from interest to interest, never staying focused for any length of time. That was part of the reason for the name of this blog; I thought I would be roaming from subject to subject more than I have thus far. Perhaps once the election is over.

One last random thought: if you are a father, as I am, a Happy Father's Day on June 15. If you have a father, pay him a visit. If your father is deceased, remember the good things about him. None of us is perfect, and most of us try to do the best we can whenever we can.

Edwards Speaks, Will Anyone Listen?

Former Democratic Presidential candidate John Edwards has finally come down off the fence. (It must have hurt sitting up there for so long. I hope there weren't too many splinters.) Edwards today did what many thought he would do if he ever decided to endorse a candidate. He announced his support for Barack Obama.

Several weeks ago, such an endorsement probably would have meant something. Now, though, who know whether it really means anything at all. It almost smacks of posturing and has me at least wondering, John, why did it take you so long? I can't be the only one wondering.

John, could you not see that Barack Obama's campaign offers at least the hope of change while Hillary Clinton's campaign smells like more of the same smoke-filled, backroom deals that have given politics a bad name? It seems to me the choice would have been an easy one to make. Or was it simply the desire to be or at least feel like a kingmaker that created the delay? Who knows?

What does seem clear is that, at this late stage of the campaign, John Edwards' annointing of Barack Obama as the best choice and hope for the Democratic Party in 2008 will likely have little effect on the vote in the remaining primaries. Where it could and should have an impact is in terms of Democratic super delegates and their decisions of whom to support. The trickle of super delegates moving to Obama has turned into a steady stream and could soon become a flood.

With the weight of such a party power as John Edwards now behind Obama, the rest of the party leadership should have less trouble now telling Hillary Clinton it's time to call her driver and have him take her home.

The Democratic Divide

Tomorrow is primary election day in Indiana and North Carolina. A number of the pundits forecast a split, with Hillary Clinton winning Indiana and Barack Obama taking North Carolina. Me, I hope against hope for an Obama sweep.

There are a couple of reasons for this. First, I am an Obama supporter and have been since the number of candidates dwindled to two (perhaps even before that). Second, regardless of the bright face the Democratic Party leadership paints on this drawn-out race, the increasingly bitter contest between Clinton and Obama is anything but good for the party. It is great fodder for conservative talk radio and the mainstream media, but as far as adding anything of substance to the political canvas, this battle has all the appeal of an episode of Jerry Springer.

The party says this battle has brought new voters into the process and has reinvigorated the political process. They are right - to a point. And that point has been passed. As this race becomes increasingly bitter, increasingly nasty, those same new and excited voters are in danger of becoming disgusted and appalled at the notion that a candidate of ideals and a candidate of change, as many have perceived Barack Obama to be, cannot succeed against a political machine that attempts to appeal to the lowest common denominator and it willing to use any tactic, any trick to win and, if necessary, steal the nomination.

Where Barack Obama has shown himself to be a man of ideals, loyal to the party rules but willing to say the unpopular thing because it needs to be said, Hillary Clinton has shown herself to be an opportunist, loyal only to herself and willing to say whatever she thinks will attract votes. Millions of Americans have already seen through this and have given Obama a lead in pledged delegates. Hopefully, a majority of voters in both Indiana and North Carolina will do likewise on Tuesday and send the message to Hillary Clinton that it is time for her to end her campaign - while the Democrats can still win the White House.

Wright Message, Wrong Words?

I just got the chance to watch the Bill Moyers Journal program featuring Rev. Jeremiah Wright, and I have to say it was very interesting. Wright certainly did not come off looking or sounding like the fanatic he has been made out to be by the mainstream press and one Sen. Hillary Clinton.

Speaking as a middle-aged white man, I have to say that Wright made some very valid points regarding the treatment of minorities in this country, both in the Moyers interview and in the extended sermon clips that were aired on that program. His unfortunate choice of words does not diminish the validity of his message.

He is also correct when he notes that the victors are the ones who write the histories. As a result, we are able to emphasize the Nazi atrocities committed against the Jewish during World War II because the Nazis lost the war while downplaying our own actions in this country against Native Americans in the 19th Century because we won.

I have always thought that we needed to look at ourselves and our actions before we condemn others. I do not say we should not speak out against oppression, but we should not do so from a position of moral superiority as a self-appointed arbiter of right and wrong. Instead, we should speak from a position of humility, pointing out these things while also recognizing our own shortcomings in such areas. The idea is one of helping others to learn from our mistakes and missteps.

Leading from a position of power ultimately brings resentment, even hatred. Leading from a position of humility should ultimately bring understanding and respect. I know which I would prefer if it were my country being led.

Will Barack finally win "a big state"?

In a few hours, the polls will open and voting in the Pennsylvania Democratic Presidential primary will be underway. Barack Obama will hope to pull the upset and deliver the knockout punch that at long last brings the candidacy of Hillary Clinton to a merciful end.

Hopefully, after this primary, Hillary will display a level of class she has thus far not shown and drop out of the race. If she really cares, as she says, about ensuring that a Democrat is back in the White House, this is what she will do. Don't bet on it.

Clinton says she wants everyone to have a chance to have their voices heard in this process. To which I say, what a crock! If the tables were turned and Barack Obama were behind in the popular vote and the delegate count, Hillary Clinton would be leading the pack in calling for Obama to get out of the race because he was hurting the party. She certainly wouldn't be concerned that some people did not have the chance to have their say. Besides, they can have their say in November when their say will carry even more weight.

If, as a few brave souls have predicted, Obama does actually win in Pennsylvania, Hillary Clinton should graciously leave the race and make good on her oft-repeated pledge to do everything in her power to help elect the Democratic nominee. If grace and class do not dictate her actions, perhaps a well placed smack upside the head would work. It always worked with me.

The Road to Nowhere

(With apologies to the Talking Heads) This entry's title reflects both my current camping plans and where I see the U.S. going in Iraq. Right now, between my wife's lingering cold and the demands of her job, we aren't looking at doing any camping until Memorial Day weekend. (sob) I'm better now.

As for Iraq, why is it that anyone who questions the war and the effectiveness of the Bush foreign policy is tarred and feathered as someone who does not support the troops? Personally, I oppose the war and always have, but I support the troops. They are in a thankless position, fighting a war that cannot be won, not without bankrupting either the American economy or what is left of our reputation as a world leader. It seems as if we have moved from being a bastion of freedom to being merely another colonial power seeking to impose our will in the Middle East.

The increased American military presence merely props up an unpopular Iraqi government (Gee, that sounds familiar. Remember the Shah or Iran or, dare I say the name, Saddam?) while not requiring the various factions to seek some middle ground. (Can you say diplomacy? I knew that you could.) What leadership!

With our invasion and subsequent occupancy of Iraq, America has forever forfeited any right to take the moral high ground in any argument. We no longer have standing to complain about the ongoing atrocities in Darfur or the Chinese oppression in Tibet. The suggestion that President Bush should seriously consider skipping the Opening Ceremonies of the upcoming Olympic Games in Beijing is laughable and is about as likely as Bush proposing his own impeachment. It ain't gonna happen and would be meaningless if it did.

Instead, it is more likely that if and when American troops finally come home from Iraq our presence there will be remembered as Generation X's Vietnam. Right now, the only real differences between the two are that fewer American soldiers have died thus far in Iraq (thankfully) and those soldiers have not yet spent as much time in Iraq. The latter is destined to change. Hopefully the former will not follow suit.

Ah, for the simplicity and innocence of camping.

So much to say, so much to say, so much to say

First off, apologies to Dave Matthews for borrowing a line from one of his songs for the title of this entry. Also, apologies to anyone whi may have read this blog and waited for the next entry.

Life has kind of taken precedence. And, there is just so much out there worth discussing, I couldn't decide. It was like being a kid in a toy store who is told he can get anything he wants. What to choose?

I have also been wrestling with a decision regarding the coming November election: how I would vote or even if I would vote. Right now, it depends.

If Barack Obama is able to secure the Democratic nomination for President, then he will get my vote. Despite every underhanded tactic tried by the Clinton mob, Obama has maintained his dignity and his poise and his cool. Quite frankly, those are all qualities we need in our next President. Hillary Clinton possesses none of those characteristics.

Thinking about it as I write this, Hillary Clinton reminds me a little of Richard Nixon. She appears willing to do anything to gain an advantage, even lie, cheat, or steal if necessary. She has changed her stand on so many issues during this campaign. I didn't think any one person could talk from so many different sides of their mouth.

First, she lobbied the super delegates to support her even though she was losing in the regular delegate count. Then, when many of those super delegates came out for Obama, she argued that they should not go against the will of the people. I honestly don't think she gives a damn about the will of any people except for herself and a few moneyed supporters.

The other day, in time to be sacreligious for Easter, key Clinton enforcer James Carville came out and likened former Clinton cabinet member Bill Richardson to Judas because he had the audacity to publicly support Obama. The suggestion is that Richardson will get his "30 pieces of silver" should Obama win the nomination. Even if that is true, how how is it any different from whatever Clinton is promising to those super delegates who publicly endorse her?

It is increasingly clear that Hillary Clinton, deep down, cares for no one other than Hillary Clinton. She has no interest in the Democrats winning back the White House. She is only interested in Hillary Clinton winning the White House. If she can't get the nomination, she is determined to make sure Obama doesn't win in November. Hillary Clinton's loyalties are to the Clinton political machine first and foremost. The Democratic party and America itself come in a distant second and third (or maybe third and fourth behind her richest supporters).

Earlier in the campaign, I was prepared to cast a reluctant vote for Hillary Clinton in order to prevent a continuation of the disastrous Bush policies. Now, though I am a loyal and lifelong Democrat, I can no more vote for Hillary Clinton than I can for John McCain. So I won't. She's an opportunist who calls herself a Democrat. If she loses the nomination, I would not be surprised to see her launch an independent campaign.

Hillary Clinton ought to be booted out of the Democratic Party for her and her husband's suggestions that of the three Presidential candidates remaining, only two of them are honorable and loyal Americans, and neither of them are named Barack Obama.

Well, she got part of it right. There are only two honorable and loyal Americans still in the race for President. But she's not one of them.

Please deposit 50-cents for three more minutes

If you are like me (and let's face it, who is?), you spent a portion of your Thursday evening watching the CNN-Univision Democratic debate featuring Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton. I suspect, though, that most of you watching that debate paid little, if any, attention to the headlines scrolling across the bottom of your television screen. But I did.

And one of the tidbits that caught my attention was the one-line announcement that Southern Methodist University has been chosen as the future home for the George W. Bush Presidential Library. My first thought was what the heck are they going to put into it, a couple of comics and a Dick and Jane book? Then I thought, well they could put in all of the documents this administration never shared with the American people, such as the minutes from the closed-door meetings Dick Cheney had with representatives of the big energy companies or the details of the sweetheart deal that was given to Halliburton when America invaded Iraq. All heavily edited, of course.

It also occurred to me to wonder what Southern Methodist gets out of all of this. Then it hit me. The University must have a vacant and unused phone booth somewhere on campus and decided that, rather than remove it, why not make a few extra bucks from it? Maybe the University will even fix the phone.

If the library goes ahead, I think I can suggest the perfect design. First, it should somewhat resemble an inverted pyramid. This is to symbolize the concentration of wealth and tax breaks at the top that has occurred during the Bush years. Next, all the doors should only be on the right to signify Bush's conservative leanings.

There should be no windows, only stone walls to illustrate the lack of openness and honesty in this administration. Finally, all the hallways should lead to nowhere but a dead end in order to represent the policies and actions that have left America stuck in many respects in a corner or between a rock and a hard place.

Oh, it goes without saying that entire project should experience a 100-percent cost overrun in honor of the multi-trillion dollar debt incurred since Bush took office. I'm out of quarters, so that will do it for this call.

A Declaration for 21st Century America

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

- From the Preamble to the Declaration of Independence

Judging from some of the ongoing political discussion, these truths are not self-evident. All men (and women) are only created equal if the size of their bank account measures up. I don't begrudge a person getting rich, but how much is enough?

For one of the two political parties, it seems there is never enough. Nor does it seem that this party agrees with the Declaration of Independence's assertion regarding those pesky "unalienable rights." You know, those rights that are not to be taken away.

Each year, the gap between rich and poor widens and not only in terms of income. As the income gap grows, so, too, does the number of Americans with no health insurance: 47-million at last count. Yet only one political party seems ready to try something other than what the country is doing now.

The Democrats have proposed Universal Health Care while the Republicans say the marketplace should provide the solution. It hasn't done so yet; why think it will now? Private solutions, the G.O.P. insists. Those 47-million uninsured Americans are suddenly supposed to find the money they did not have before in order to pay for insurance?

Surely not even the Republicans believe all 47-million of these people are lazy deadbeats who could afford insurance if they would simply go out and get a job. Perhaps they would do well to remember those "unalienable rights" of "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness" and to think about what they might actually mean.

The unalienable right to life as stated in the Declaration does not merely mean the right to keep breathing. In the context of the Declaration, it means something closer to the right to a decent quality of life. It seems to me that part of that quality of life should and must include health care.

Now to liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Is a person truly free or free to pursue happiness if the threat of catastrophic illness and exorbitant health care costs is hanging over their head?

Yet the Republicans argue that Universal Health Care, in the hands of the government is a wasteful and inefficient idea. Inefficient? Perhaps. But it seems to me that health is too important and too basic to be a for-profit concern.So, pardon me if I prefer inefficient yet fair to efficient and exclusionary, based on income and/or health.

Perhaps the answer is something in-between private enterprise and government-sponsored health care. I do believe the government needs to step up and step in to provide health insurance for those people who could not otherwise afford it: small business employees, the self-employed, low-income workers, and so forth. Higher-paid employees and other professionals, as well as upper-income Americans, would be free to pursue other insurance options.

Only by ensuring that all Americans have equal access to affordable health care can we ensure that America lives up to the preamble of its founding document and truly gives each and everyone of us the unalienable right to "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness."

God's Eyes Were Watching Them

First, my apologies to Zora Neale Hurston for playing off the title of her classic novel. But I am a happy man tonight.

I learned that sometimes cheaters do get what they deserve. I finished watching Super Bowl XLII (42 for you non-Romans), and the New England Patriots, instead of taking another step toward NFL immortality, go down as the greatest team to not win the championship. It's a bit like being named Miss Congeniality at the Miss America pageant.

However, the Patriots should never have been allowed to get that close to a perfect season. That possibility should have been eliminated after the first game of the year, when the Patriots were found to have videotaped defensive signals of their opponent. Instead of forfeiting that game, the Patriots were slapped on the wrist, fined a few bucks and a draft choice not quite as good as the one they got to keep.

Actually, the team gets to choose whether to give up a first-round choice or a second and third-round pick. That's a bit like asking a convicted felon if they would rather do five years at Leavenworth or a month at summer camp.

The league, in the guise of NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell, caved to the wishes of the networks and possibly the owners. It's apparently okay to punish individual players but not entire teams. Now there is talk that the Patriots may have done something similar, videotaping the final practice of the St. Louis Rams prior to those two teams meeting in Super Bowl 36. The talk may or may not be true, but there is an old saying that "where there's smoke there's fire."