There I was
. . .
lost in a field of tall grass
I was out of my head
and drifted in a field that stretched
beyond anything I could ever imagine
So with nowhere else to go,
I sat for a while
and slipped into the warm cocoon
of an afternoon rush
1)
A man threw a stone inside his glass house yesterday.
He stood around for hours, wondering where the draft came from.
But me . . .
I applauded his abilities to make matters worse.
I laugh because we live in a world of pots and kettles. Everyone points. Everyone wants someone to blame.
And why not blame someone else, right?
I mean, why be accountable (If you can void it) am I right?
Did I ever tell you why I like the rain?
The reason comes from a memory I have from when I was a small boy. The Old Man was in the backyard trying to build a shed. It was the kind of day when I could tell The Old Man had something on his mind. He was quiet in times like this. His eyebrows crunched downward and his head pushed forward.
I was somewhere around 19 when I landed my first the first suit and tie job. I was an entry-level salesman in the garment business. And when I say entry-level, I mean the I was at the lowest of the low of the industry.
I sold identification items, which, in less-than-fancy terms are the little labels sewn in the collar that irritate the back of your neck. This was my first real job. Although the item was necessary, it was still at the bottom of the priority list. I pitched the production managers garment manufacturers to sell them and create a new relationship, which was tough at best.
There are things I believe in life and I believe them, not because I was told to but because I have found them to be true. I believe music is essential. I think at one point, everyone needs to dance or at least drive a long drive with the windows down and the volume to a favorite song turned all the way up. I think we need to scream the lyrics in our best out-of-tune pitch.
Back as a kid, The Old Man used to have a Ford, Mustang fastback. He told us sometimes, you just have to open up the gas and let her rip. I feel this way too. Sometimes, we just need to open up and belt out a scream. Sometimes, we need to know we’re alive.
Continue reading It all begins now—
It starts right now, as if today is the first day of the rest of your life.
In a short while, I am going to bundle up and put on sweats, a hat, pull up my head, and then I will step out into the January air and walk the hills in my town. I will look at the scene around me and take in the first fresh breath of the year. And then it all begins . . .
Continue readingIt was a year later and The Old Man was gone. Mom decided to take us all on a trip to Beaver Creek, Colorado for ten days. This was before Dave and Lisa were married.
I was only home for a few months. I was back from the farm in late September and still re-acclimating to the regular world. There rules from the farm were a thing of the past. I was free to listen to music or go out or eat whenever I chose. I was free to do several things; however, I was still adjusting to the change in my surrounding.
On the way in, I never knew what to expect. Each trip was different and nothing was ever guaranteed. But this was part of the ritual. This was part of the rush and part of getting high. There was the act itself and then there was the ritual that goes along with it. This is the romantic part everyone relates to, which is the crazy because the romance is not only poisonous —it’s also contagious.
Continue readingEvery so often, I go on a website that calculates days between then and now. For example, the other day, I was trying to figure out how many times I’ve experienced the sunrise in my life. The answer today would be 16,901. This means I’ve been around for that many mornings. That’s 2414 weeks and 3 days, or 46 years, 3 months, and 9 days to be exact, which is strange because the numbers seem odd to me.
Continue readingThe dream takes place in one of my previous homes. It is early morning and at the birth of sunrise. I am standing at the front door on stoop of my old home at a place called Rowehl Drive.
Looking across from me is an old tree that stands in the section of grass that runs between the street and the sidewalk.
The tree is old, mainly empty of leaves, and partially dead but partially alive as well.
I used to see this old tree on a daily basis. I admired the tree. I depended upon it to be there, to stand there, and to remain there regardless to people and their opinions, and to endure there, regardless to the storms that came our way.
