working man’s ramble

The Old Man was not always easy to relate to. He grew up in a much different time than I did. He grew up in a different household, in a different town, and in a different world.
He was older than the usual dad with children my age. He was hard-handed and stuck in his own ways. The Old Man was born out of The Great Depression, so his views on money, discipline, and waste were very strict.

The Old Man hated waste. He used to tell stories about Continue reading

why I stay sober

I was under the influence of something more than just a mild chemical reaction. Someone, and I was never sure who, suggested I try a bag.
“It will help you come down,” they said. “It’ll stop the fiend [or urge] from getting to you.” But what no one explained was the trade of one evil for another.

The weather was warm and the sweat beaded down the bridge of my nose. The long strands of my hair were clumped together with sweat and blood sped throughout my Continue reading

Just to write: the path of least resistance

It was Saturday morning and the bright yellow sun gleamed down across the snow-covered field without an ounce of warmth to spare. The sky was perfectly blue and the sunlight’s glare was too bright. It was as though I had been indoors for way too long and my eyes could not adjust to sun’s glare.

“Better get down to the barn,” I was told. “Better move it too.”

I turned around to face the Continue reading

Sunday Morning’s Thought: Then and Now

After the last few days of intensity, I figured I could use something to break the tension, and what better way is there than to watch the sunrise with a cup of coffee?
I love these moments when the sky changes color and the birds begin to chirp. Most of the world is sleeping and the streets are quiet. I see this as a perfect time to enjoy my small town and share some words with God the Father to restore a semblance of peace.

This morning was cooler than the last few. Yesterday’s humidity broke with its Continue reading

Love for Jake

(Note: I seldom use names in any of my pieces out of respect for anonymity. But those who I write about know exactly who they are, and my silence of their names is not a question of love. It is respect for it.)

I have always admired wedding photographs. I like the frozen moments in time and the smiles from the bride and groom, which define the happiness and love in their hearts. And whether their version of Continue reading

School and the Fred Flintstone Incident

My daughter went back to school yesterday . . .
She went willingly and with a smile, so that’s always a good thing. Her mother was sure to take a photograph before our little girl walked across the street to her bus stop. And I admit to a quick tear in the corner of my eye when I saw the photograph. My daughter is beautiful, and I know I had something to do with that.

Other than my first day in first grade, I have no detailed memories of any first day back to school. I only remember not wanting to go. I didn’t want to walk through the double doors that opened into the corridors and smell the Continue reading

this is my journey

It gets hard sometimes—to sit and write. I sometimes lose focus on why I began this trip. But then something happens. Someone steps up and shares a piece of their life with me, and that’s when I realize, “Maybe I’m not alone in this crazy place.”
I began this journey years ago with a short blog entry that explained, “I doubt anyone will ever read any of this, but here it goes,” and so I went on.
I learned as I went and withstood the criticisms and jabs. I learned to disregard my Continue reading

Labor Day Morning.

The first Labor Day was celebrated in New York City on September 5, 1882. During this time, the city was in the early stages of electricity. Most worked 12-hour days or 60 hour workweeks. Children as young as six were allowed to work in factories, whereas today, children at the age of six cannot even play on their own front lawn without adult supervision.
I wonder if society then complained as much as we do now?

I admit it . . .
I want to quit sometimes. I don’t want to work the hours I work, and I’m tired. I have too many Continue reading