Talk to me

May 15, 2016

One would think that there was an initial reason. Lost and needing direction, a little curiosity or just plain happenstance. The first few words out are the most difficult because of the initial comfort levels we all bring along with us every day whether you are the first to speak or respond. We do our best, I think, at the times we are caught unaware. No defenses, no preconceived notions, no trying, just being. Let the situation take care of itself, there will be time later after you have done way too much thinking and analyzing to make those awkward mistakes while you are trying a little too hard to make a better impression or seem smarter than you need to be. Being who you really are is what you are trying to get across, if trying is actually the case. You will be pleasantly surprised. And looking back will consider that it was not you at all but rather the other person who somehow brought out the better you. Just because you talked to me.

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On the mend

May 6, 2016

Below is the body of a text sent out to various people who seemed to want to be informed of my status after the rotator cuff surgery on April 28th.

Shoulder surgery recovery update.

The drugs have not taken over my life just yet but they do help manage what pain there has been. The routine, 10 sets of 20 reps of 3 different minimal exercises, followed by 30 minute ice pack applications does however occupy a lot of time between the online poker therapy sessions, which are also going well. My sister, Mindy, has been a life line to the outside world of grocery shopping, laundry runs and doctor appointments. As independent as some of us try to be, to a fault I am sure in some of your opinions in my case, there are just some things we need help with and I will thankfully take it. I do not know if it shows just who these texts go out to but feel free to forward these Condition Reports to anyone you may think would be interested, no HIPA waiver required.

No Fooling

April 1, 2016

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April 1st. Today is my Father’s 91st birthday. I have not seen or talked to him in quite a long while. Not really either of our faults, it is just that he died in 1981 before even reaching his 56th birthday. All of his children, and we were still just children, I soon to be 36 and all of the other five younger by two or three years in some random mathematical progression, mourned his passing in our varying degrees and ways. I truly only know what I felt and still feel as, I guess, in a way we are not a close knit family, even though we get together on all the requisite holidays and birthdays. There is talk and laughter and memories and uneasy silences. In his last years we used to walk around the neighborhood together every now and then just to keep in touch, it seems. I imagine that he always had greater hopes for me than the life I displayed before his eyes. I changed quite a bit over the years after he died and hope that most of it was for the better. I think he would have approved, but I would have rather have had a few more years after the changes to walk and talk with him. It might have made it more difficult to lose him but then it is always difficult no matter when you lose a parent. No fooling.

Yesterdays

March 30, 2016

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I do not use Facebook much anymore, I guess only because the stuff that everyone meaningfully posts is not all that interesting, at least to me, at the time. Every now and then Facebook reminds me of a past event of my own and depending on what it is, or was, and the connections that it still has to my pysche, the memories flood back to that time and place and people I may have been with at that time.

Now four years ago may seem like a long time ago, but in the grand scheme of things, if there truly is a grand scheme, it is only another yesterday in a long string of yesterdays. Yet the memories, emotions and reflections of and on that moment are as fresh as our last breath and do little to assuage whatever regrets we may have about being where we are now in lieu of where we could have been.
If only. Woulda, coulda, shoulda. Oh well, in any case it was one of the best photos of that time and can never come close to describing the life going on behind the camera and it is that that I think of when I see this photo and not the scene itself.

Unsaid

March 26, 2016

I like words. Every one has its own meaning nevermind the language in which it exists, but it was so hard with my mind running at breakneck speed, hoping that all the thoughts could be transcribed into an utterance. I stood there with my mouth open, watching her walk away, wishing for her to turn and look back one last time on her own. I knew then that the words would never come and that she would never look back. I watched until she was out of sight and beyond the range of my words. “What kind of love doesn’t look back?”, the song lyrics go. I would have done the same, were our situations reversed, yet I have never stopped listening

 

Lessons

July 18, 2012

It is odd, and a little humorous, that when you start out to teach someone a lesson, the only lesson learned is that not only can you not teach that person anything, unless they are willing and that it is surprising that you have not already learned this lesson many times before.

The Recurring Dream

April 14, 2012

It has been a while. Real life and change gets in the way.
You never really notice when it begins and it doesn’t always begin in the same way. Dreams are like that I guess and the speculation of what they are, where they come from and what they may mean is as varied as the dreams and realities around us. Yet the central theme, at least for this dream, is always trying to get somewhere, or rather back to somewhere, in a somewhat familiar landscape, usually a city, more often than not familiar, and never quite seeming to be able to find your way, back. Very, very frustrating , yet the way, the way back, just seems to become more and more convoluted. There are recognizable landmarks along the way. An unavoidable car accident, fender bender, nothing serious, just car damage but nothing you could have done to prevent it except not being at the particular place at the particular time, or so it seems. Somehow the love that got away surfaces again after so long an absence. Different concerns thrown into the mix. Subconscious and memory and purpose, oh my.

Holiday Cards

December 17, 2011

It was that time of year again, a few shopping days left before Christmas, not that that was on the mind at the time. On the way to a pre grocery shopping breakfast, a quick stop to pick up mail at the Post Office. Hoping or expecting one bit of mail but instead receiving another. It always came twice a year, Christmas and birthdays. Always the same recognizable flowing script on the envelope, always the same reemergence of long ago feelings, the unabandoned hopes. Sometimes you never, or you do not wish to, let go for whatever the reasons. The finality of the end is just as painful as the often long road of getting there, though such paths rarely start that way.