I have been thinking about the ideas of ours. I was thinking about the assumptions we have, which to assume, means to take on, to own or invest in. To assume something is to take for granted or come to an opinion without fact.

I have been watching one of the new buildings rise from the ground up in the middle of New York City. I saw this build from a hole in the ground and reach its tallest peak of more than 1400’ above ground level. The spire is high up with an American Flag at the tip, flying high and waving free. I love this.

Someday they say things will all make sense. Someday the reasons why things happen and why they don’t will become clear. At least, i’m told this will be so. There’s a reason for everything, or, so they say.

I sit like most people, wondering, and thinking too much, too often. I’m a deep thinker, which can make sleep difficult. I have a thousand questions or maybe more.  I have a thousand ideas and counting. I think about about life on life’s terms. I think about man’s inhumanity to man and sometimes the inhumanity we cast upon ourselves.

In times like this, I am reminded about the old message that used to come across our television back when I was a kid. This happened whenever the television station lost reception. I believe this was due to atmospheric problems or conditions. A message came across the screen that was followed by a well-spoken voice which explained, “Due to circumstances beyond our control, we are experiencing technical difficulties. Please stand by.”

I want to see the world from the highest peak, like a picture I once saw as a child of a man standing somewhere high above it all, south of the border with red-brick mountains, defining to me a recollection or reference of an old and unmolested tribe world of Native Indians, which is somewhere high in the peaks of South America. Young as I was, I was old enough to understand there is an entire world out there—and somewhere beyond my imagination and somewhere beyond my wildest dreams is a world I that I hope to see someday.

This is for you:

Once upon a time,
there was a little girl that had no voice.
But it’s okay, little girl.
You can come out now.
It’s time for us to talk.

There was a decent sized meeting room next to a bookshop in a Church over on 31^st Street and 7^th Avenue. As a matter of fact, the place was called the book shop. I used to go here, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at noon. I went here to get my share of help from a fellowship of men and women that share the experience, strength, and hope with each other, so that they may solve a common problem.

Want to laugh?
I’m going to be 47 in a few weeks. Some way, somehow, 47 years have gone by. I laugh to myself and say, “Who’d a thunk it?”
47 years . . .

The following is a rehearsed note that is said by many and delivered by few. This is not about me or you or us. But yet this is about me and you and everyone else.
This is about the goodbyes I wished I had always said. This about the people I wished I walked away from, long before we even met. This is about pain and feeling and emotion. This is about the celebration of leaving. This is about the life I had and never want to revisit and the people I knew that I never want to be surrounded by again.
I wrote this while thinking about life and life’s situations, which we talk about, and then we look back and we wish we could have found the bravery to stand up and walk away.

Let’s face it though. Change isn’t easy. Neither is walking away sometimes. More accurately, neither is being alone or being an after thought or regarded like say, “Hey yeah, remember him?”
Please read on and if you can relate then perhaps this might encourage you to take the next few steps because after that . . . you’re gone