Wednesday, September 16, 2015

You Can't Hide Something That's Not There

I

This horoscope has haunted me for months so I thought if I could write about it I may be able to loosen its' grip on me. It so jarred my senses I was compelled to tear it out. I've been using it as a bookmark. I've read it dozens of times always bringing me back to the horrific realization that I'm empty. This damn horrific horoscope is right. It is embarrassing and I've spent most of my life trying to hide what isn't there.

This empty feeling must stem from my feelings of inadequacy, that I am lacking some essential human ingredient. This started when I was young when I realized I was the last kid in class who still couldn't read. I was able to hide that important little piece of information until the end of sixth grade. I wet the bed. A lot. Not such an easy thing to hide. I was emotionally challenged. At least that's what they called it. In seventh grade we were watching the movie Brian's Song. A sad enough movie on its own, but the theme song my sister used to be able to play on the piano so I cried so hard the teacher pulled me out and sent me to the nurses office. I remember just leaving the school and walking home. But it was way too far to walk so when I finally got home that evening my mom was worried sick.

Nothing makes people more uncomfortable than the open display of grief. I've spent a lot of time trying to hide it. It is definitely there. It doesn't go away. You just learn to live with it. You create a huge empty space inside and drop it in. Then you burry it. 

You cover it with all the joy life has to offer. You learn to read. You find joy in reading. You learn how to learn and actually get a few good grades. You play sports. You excel! You drink. You smoke. You party like a rockstar. You find God. You find love. You love and in return create life that offers more Love and Joy than you ever thought existed. You work. You grow old. 

Then grief comes back into your life. There is no empty space left in which to drop it. It sits right on top. You try to hide it. Avoid it. Forget it. You run from it and in doing so your life starts to fall apart. Joy becomes inaccessible. Emptiness starts to sounds like a good idea. No pain. No hurt. No sorrow. No grief. You start to deny the life that is full. You start to hide what is not even there. 

You read a silly horror-scope and it makes you whole again.

Thursday, June 25, 2015

Big things

When I write of things they become small, but as I was living them they were no little matter. The experience is somehow bigger than life and the telling of it smaller than the very words on the page. As the description of a great work of art could never match the beauty of seeing or hearing or the experiencing of it. The love is so much greater in the doing of something than in the recording of it. But so great is the experience that I feel compelled to attempt the impossible and capture its essence with words. This is only possible when the reader allows the words to kindle the fire of the imagination and in doing so breathe life into the narrative giving it a beauty and meaning unique onto itself. So I toil on with my feeble writing in hopes and with confidence that you the reader can turn my little words into something greater and more powerful than I alone can create.

When I write of things that have never happened allowing my imagination to create fiction larger than my reality allows stories grow quite large from nothing more than my meager experience. The more I write the more I find it is nearly impossible to keep these two worlds apart. History becomes an illusion of the mind as does beauty depend on the vision beheld.

Monday, June 15, 2015

Home Alone with Mary

Being home alone with Mary is a trial and a joy. Trying to keep up with her is completely out of the question. I've learned, with some practice and experience, to just sit back and enjoy the ride. Quite a lesson in life I must admit. Today after dropping her oldest sister off at robotics camp we picked up some water balloons at the dollar store and headed home for a day of fun, Mary style.  As a team we filled maybe fifty little water. Balloons. She'd slip one on the little plastic nozzle thingy at the end of the hose, I'd hold it in place, she'd run to the faucet turn it on then off, I'd tied the knot and she would drop it in the bucket or the big bowl depending on whether it was bigger or littler. She wanted a third bowl for the more medium one but I convinced her we were on a pretty good roll with our water balloon making and should go while the going was good.when we finally made our quota my fingers were actually pretty sore from the knot tying but I hung in there until the bucket and bowl were full with equal numbers of each of the six colors of water balloon. we played a quick game of don't break the egg (also known as water balloon toss) and we burst a couple in the game and she was ready for some inside crafts and art and she drew a giraffe, and cut up some stuff, and used another whole roll of scotch tape all while watching Johnny Test on Netfflix on my iPhone. I applied for a couple of jobs and then we had lunch. After we went outside and the bucket was in the blazing sun and all the balloons had burst. I tried to explain it must have been the heat from the sun but she said, "No Dad they just got warned out." She didn't seem to care at all. So we ate Popsicles. Appears the real fun wasn't about what we were going to do with them the real fun was in the making of them. Another mind blowing life lesson from my sweet Mary.

Sunday, May 31, 2015

Nuts


Back to the Wood Box of Wisdom

Been a long time since I posted anything from DDD's wood box. 


I will continue to blog as if it were impossible to fail. Thanks Dad this is a good one.


Friday, May 29, 2015

His Stain-glass Gift

 Miami University Redskin &
 Walt Whitman Viking (1981 - 1988)


When my dad made this stain glass tribute to my football career I was grateful  but little did I know how much significance and meaning it would hold for me later in life. I was so different back then, such a different person and I see things now that then I was oblivious. The imperfections, the cracks, rough edges and crocked lines were things I ignored and I was a little taken back as to why my unimpressive achievements were worth a memorial. Especially in light of what he had accomplished in the sport. In fact, I was downright ashamed of my Miami football experience and wished to put it behind me. Surviving a very disappointed Coach Rose for four years to graduate is not much to brag about, but he thought it was. Now over twenty years later I see the imperfections as everything he had to overcome and learn and to be able to create such a thing of beauty with so much sentimental meaning after what he'd been through just leaves me in awe. He had had two major strokes by then and using this new stainglassing hobby as physical therapy to help increase his dexterity was not only genius but down right unbelievable. I'm sure my crafty mom had something to do with it. Later in life he would throw a paper route and brag how throwing papers out the driver side window with his left hand made his once crippled arm stronger than his right. 

Looking at this piece of art and I cannot think of or remember him ever making me anything else. He made a hell of a toast at my wedding, but something he crafted from scratch, created from nothing, this is it. Well maybe I am it and my brother too. 

Wednesday, May 27, 2015

The Leap

I just decided to take a giant leap of faith. To give my fear and doubt and insecurity to God. I have decided to learn the final lesson my DDD failed to learn but tried so hard to understand. I am going to walk away from the false promises of my current profession to be with my children and wife. To be there. Not to fix or to earn or to make it all perfect. To be loved. To grow. To land were He wants me. Home.

Wednesday, March 25, 2015