I want to find myself here, on my own steam, living a life which I created by the steam of my works.
I want to find myself on the Pacific side of our country,
alone, looking out into the vastness of a peaceful blue sea.
Behind me are the palm trees and the Malibu lives,
Santa Monica, L.A., and even the hills,
the big Hollywood sign, the canyons,
and the sunsets,
which are unlike anything I have ever seen.

Love-

The word means more than we think.
Love means we have a heart. Love means we feel.
We connect.
Love is this thing we have; it lives and it breathes.
Love expands and contracts.
Love is hope in hopeless times.
Love is painful. Love hurts. Love does not operate according to logic.
Love is a night when you can’t sleep because of fear and insecurity; meanwhile, all it would take is to hear the voice of your loved one
and then next, all would rest easily.

Along the way, I have to admit, I’ve met some interesting people. None of which are who most would expect. None of them walk with signs around their neck that say, “I used to stick needles in my arms,” or, “I used to drink a few pints a day.”
Along the way, I have met people that endured the worst of things. They survived (somehow) the worst that life has to offer. They survived themselves. They survived abuse. They survived rapes and beatings and tragedies and no matter how far down they fell, somehow, they had the ability to overcome and stand back up again.
Somehow, these people found the ability to heal and recover. You would never know it by seeing them but these were the best people I had ever seen before.

You swear this is the last time you’ll ever feel this way. You try to convince yourself this is it. No more. From now on, everything is going to be different.
You promise yourself the world.
That’s right. Tomorrow is going to be a new day. And you tell yourself this like you mean it
(because you do.)
You practice saying the things you’ve been waiting to say for years. Only, this time, you say it with determination.
This time you mean it.

You say it with the punctuation, like an exclamation mark.
So there!
You look in the mirror, you give yourself that affirming nod. You look your reflection right in the eye; and you can see you mean it (this time.)
Now all you have to do is follow through.

When I listen to arguments over opinions about our country, I wonder if people realize that it is okay to see things differently. I am not sure when opinions became fact. I am not sure how we became the way we are, so divided that we fail to see straight or realize that we are actually on the same team. I don’t know much about politics. I don’t always I agree with what I hear and I don’t always like what I see.
All I know is I am me without apology. I am not the right side or the left. Instead of choosing a side, I consider myself the middle. I consider myself the heart of this country. I am part of the pulse that beats the blood through the system of this land. I am no better or worse. I am me. I am the son of a man who chose to serve our country. In fact, my Old Man served our country proudly in the Army Air Corps in 1946.

I was just about to step outside and break away from my normal routine. I decided to talk a walk. I wanted to take a break from my usual scene. I wanted to get away from the group of my so-called friends.
I wanted to separate me from them and the self-absorbed conversations about this one keeping up with that one. I was young and the city was still new to me.

I think hard and then I laugh when you tell me how you see me. I laugh because of your inaccuracies and I think hard because I wonder about the way I see myself, which is different from the way you or other people see me.
I suppose this is the way life is. (. . . Isn’t it?)
We are three people. We are who we think we are, who say we are, and then we are who people see us as.

It 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.

 At the day job, I sometimes get projects that call for a parts list to be sure that I have what I need. And sometimes, I add extra parts, just in case I added short or I come across an unexpected turn.Either way, the idea of a parts list is to be sure that all items are covered.I collect what I need and compare this to my list and one by one, I check them off.