Vacation in Mexico 10/2016

7/2016

Some favorite recent photos

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.

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.

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.