Archives for June 2017

It starts with Aretha Franklin singing Baby I Love You and moves into Badfinger’s Day After Day.

It referring to a mix of 194 songs that I put together as a soundtrack to help me write.

Technically those songs are closer to the opening than the middle and far from the end, but ten years have gone by since I put it together and I cannot tell you if there is supposed to be rhyme or reason to the order.

All I can say is the mix of music has a wide range including other artists such as Billy Joel, Barry Manilow, Frank Sinatra, The Cranberries, Billy Idol and Creedence Clearwater Revival.

I probably have around 50 or so of these mixes I have made at one time or another, all designed to help the great brain find a way to pen a proper tale.

BJ’s, Food & The Willfully Blind

My birthday buddy Mr. Joel sings about Paul the real estate novelist and Davy the navy lifer.

And me, well I am here to share words that few will read and even fewer will care to understand.

Here to say I made a comment about BJ’s and food that was intentionally misinterpreted and that I have taken grief for it.

And I am here to say I am amazed and shocked by the willfully blind and intentionally deaf who ignore the puerile mewlings of a man who is supposed to be a leader.

An unfiltered and insecure toddler who has snagged the keys to the car, stepped on the gas and has figured out how to put the pedal to the metal.

I have been trying to ignore some of the crap he spews but I find it hard to do so and in the midst of  it I have this image that Ghostbusters has come to life.

And right now we are seeing the result of a petty and small person having opened the gates that contained the ghosts.

Except Zul isn’t coming as the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man in a cute little sailor outfit.

Most of the time I am confident we’ll come out the other side with a few scratches and that Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride will one day be a couple of chapters in a history book.

But every now and then I ask if that it is wishful thinking or factual desire.

Because we live in a time when facts are not just flexible but optional for some people.

A Malleable Truth

If you know me well enough and have been willing to have real conversation with me about things you know how that quote speaks to me.

But then again, this assumes I am willing to have those honest conversations which is a short list indeed.

The thing is, I don’t believe all truth is malleable and tend to see it focused on the heart and people, not on how many people attended inaugurations, voted or did x, y and z.

I suppose it is naive to think there has ever been a time in which many acted like truth was fixed and cloaked in armor but there are moments where I think now is just different.

But maybe that is how it has always been and maybe that is just the perspective of a man going through major transition.

Maybe it is all just part of what satisfies my soul today and the joy of the journey is looking back to see what once did while looking forward to try and figure what might.

You Can’t Do That To Our Pledges

A week ago I walked up to a man and told him if I caught him talking to my son again things would get ugly.

The particulars and specifics don’t really matter here.

If I told you I made him very uncomfortable it would be true and I haven’t an ounce of regret about it because he overstepped his bounds and made my son uncomfortable.

What mattered most was my kid seeing that someone has his back and that my almost 17 year-old promise to be that guy is unending.

Because when you are a teenager adults don’t really take you all that seriously and even if you can handle yourself there are moments where you need your dad.

Confession: I was both relieved and disappointed the man didn’t find out whether I could rip off his arm and slap some sense into him.

Would have turned a good teaching moment into something far more awkward and ugly.

*****

One of the interesting revelations of this moment came when I realized that no one is going to be able to just pick my son up and shove him in a car.

It is not that I actively worried someone would kidnap him or his sister because I really didn’t, but when they were much smaller I kept an eagle eye upon them in public spaces just because.

These days that is just unlikely, doesn’t mean it is impossible because hell someone could grab me too.

But my baby boy is big enough now that if he doesn’t want to move he is not going to go anywhere without significant effort.

It is an interesting feeling knowing this because it changes things a bit and reminds me that we only get our kids for a short while.

Final Five Songs

1. Whiskey Lullaby- Brad Paisley & Allison Krauss
2. American Pie- Don McLean
3. Summertime- Louis Armstrong & Ella Fitzgerald
4. The Magnificent Seven Theme- Elmer Bernstein
5. Burn Down The Mission- Elton John

I think I burned down the mission a while back but I didn’t retreat behind four walls.

Think I put on my armor, put the visor down and walked out the castle gates in a state between search and destroy and protect and serve.

Life is speeding up in a few places and slowing down in others.

Kind of interesting to feel like some things are crystal clear and others are bathed in fog.

I may not see all with the clarity I like, but I know for certain it is not because I am willfully blind.

Someone pass the Jeremiah Red, life is about to get interesting.

It is the Shabbos of  my daughter’s Bat Mitzvah and my son goes along with my niece and nephews to open the ark.

The youngest leans in, takes a deep sniff and turns to my son, “It smells holy.”

I don’t hear this story until the next day but enjoy it so much I tell share it not just with friends/family, but with you.

What I don’t share with my son is how I may or may not have kissed a girl almost where he stood.

Ok, it was probably thirty feet away but even at almost 17 it is not a story he wants to hear nor is it one I will tell in full.

Instead we’ll call it a forbidden kiss and say she told me we had bad timing but that didn’t stop her from pressing her lips against mine.

And while we share blasphemous rumors allow me one more comment, I shared part of this tale with a rabbi who said it wasn’t the preferred way to get people to go to shul, but it was probably effective.

I Kissed Her- Was It Bad Timing?

I am back in Texas, lost in thoughts and memories and uncertain of what time zone I am in.

It is the fourth night in the new place and I am working at a dining room table that has both my personal and work computers stationed upon it.

For the time being this is not a problem because not only am I the only one here, there are too many unopened boxes to be navigated, negotiated and dealt with to work elsewhere.

I’ll dedicate a significant part of the weekend to tending to them and bring order to the chaos around me.

Or at least I’ll try to bring order, some would accuse me of being the spoon that stirs the pot, an expert fire dancer.

And if  not expert, well, experienced.

“Come down off your throne and leave your body alone
Somebody must change
You are the reason I’ve been waiting all these years
Somebody holds the key” Can’t Find My Way Home- Blind Faith

Just a couple days removed from having blocked someone on Facebook I am far calmer and relaxed than I was.

That is not my preferred way of dealing with irritating people.

To be honest I would have liked to have made him aware that he had gotten my attention and then let him enjoy the fruits of his labor.

But it was bad timing and sometimes the best thing you can do is turn your back upon others and let them feel the absence of your presence.

I have become quite proficient at doing so and probably should increase the frequency of such things but it is all about timing.

Speaking of timing, the short video below is an old favorite of mine.

Her Name Is Aphrodite

I walk off of the plane and see a man child looking at me.

The boy who calls me dad has grown about four inches since I last saw him, but he is not a skinny weed like so many other boys his age.

He is getting broad and thick and I am compelled to measure his back by placing my hands upon it.

Instead of one covering the entire span between his shoulder blades it now takes two and I am shocked, proud and a little sad.

I made a choice long ago to do what is required to provide for the kids and I have no regrets about the decision but damn, I see so much has happened.

So much in so little and part of me feels a bit crazed because I can’t be in two places at once and there is a price to be paid for all we say and do.

A price I have paid in full and with interest and would do so again because I can only operate based upon what I know at the time I know it.

But there are some regrets about some things I chose not to do in the past, some roads I didn’t walk down upon and though I do my best to forget it doesn’t always happen.

Those ghosts have anchored their chains in places that don’t allow me to forget, so the siren song tortures my ears and upon need I order the crew to tie me to the mast and sail forward, always forward.

It is the fire inside, the one that burns so bright and refuses to be quenched that requires movement.

Things I Know

Sometimes there are conversations in which I insist I know and understand far more than I am given credit for.

Conversations in which the source of my knowledge is questioned and I shrug my shoulders and say sometimes I just know.

It is not a good answer, not when the interrogator wants me to provide a place for them to anchor their ship.

There is no bedrock or seafloor upon which to rely, not in this case.

It is faith and that is a hard place to rest when you fear you will fall.

These conversations have been between father and son and man and woman.

They have taken place with people who know I am not trying to fool them because there is no reason for me to do so.

There is no upside, no benefit or purpose but sometimes fear drives you to act in ways that don’t always serve you.

Sometimes uncertainty is the master we follow and that is just how it goes.

*****

In the grand tradition of our president I must tell you those are not my small feet in the picture at the top of the page.

And I must tell you my daughter has yelled at me, because she says she got my feet and my hands which are far too big for a girl.

“Dad, you gave me man hands.”

“Let me teach you how to make a proper fist. If you swing it right those boys will wonder if I was the one that popped them in the mouth.”

She doesn’t smile.

*****

Back to reality.

The fridge has Pellegrino, Shiner Bock and some generic market seltzer water in it.

A late afternoon craving for something sweet is marked by the Peace, Love and Little Donuts box on the counter.

It is still full and as the final words are typed out on the page Bow Wow Wow sings Do You Want To Hold Me while insisting  Pinnochio is a real boy.

One day I might laugh about this time and tell you how I moved out of a one bedroom apartment into a three bedroom house over a four day period and still had time to fly back to LA for a Bat Mitzvah.

I’ll tell you about running three flights of stairs with my arms filled with stuff and how the three movers I hired to empty the Grapevine storage space I rented asked if I was really 48.

We’ll laugh about how I beat back a fever, caught Pink Eye and beat that sucker back before pictures and the Bat Mitzvah.

I’ll tell you it was a true display of force of will and wonder how I didn’t collapse from exhaustion.

What you won’t hear are the two or three stories that about stuff that I can’t share here but can’t allow myself to forget.

The things that made me wonder if there is/was some higher power that was determined to test me.

Things that made me want to howl with anger and frustration because it is like fighting a damn hydra and every head I cut off turns into five more.

And then you’ll see my eyes light up and talk about a little girl who walked upon water and did an incredible job.

Every time I think of her smile and the pure joy radiating from her…well it makes it all worthwhile.

Days Of Uncertainty & Joy

I am dancing in the damn fire, wondering how I keep going and when things won’t be so damn difficult.

Back home in California for a few more days, thinking about how strange it is to come back and not go to the house I grew up in.

The place my parents owned for 40 or so years was sold last year and it just feels strange to know someone else is sleeping, eating, celebrating and living in my place.

I drove by it and had to remind myself not to pull into the driveway or park on the street.

Stared at the strange car and speedboat and remembered people, places and things but kept those to myself because those who might be interested in hearing those tales aren’t around to ask.

Thought about how fucking crazy life has and is and wondered again how I could feel so damn comfortable here and yet feel like a stranger.

Some things aren’t quite right and there is going to be a reckoning. There is going to be a time when I am going to straighten some people out.

And if that doesn’t work, well it will be time to take out the scalpel and cut them loose because I have had about enough.

Life is too short and too hard to not get the kind of support from them that I need or that I give.

Sometimes it is ok for it to be off kilter and sometimes it is just not.

Given these days of joy and uncertainty it is just how it has to be for me. I either know I can do it certain things for some people forever or I don’t.

And if I don’t know, if I don’t feel it in my gut well then I have to take action.

Chaos And Clay

It is a time of chaos and clay.

A time when I know if I am given a little time and some opportunity I can mold and move things.

I can take it and turn it into something meaningful, magical and majestic.

One little spark can be turned into a flame that will burn so very bright and beautiful.

Can’t say for certain that the opportunity will come or that I’ll get the moment I seek. All I can do is watch and wait.

Do my best to be ready to move quickly and hope that the move goes as I wish..

My gut says it will happen and that it will be sooner than later but that damn gut has been wrong, so who the hell knows.

But I am going to keep my fingers crossed and do my best to turn water into wine.

I am going to do my best to take the second worst Father’s Day and some of the other assorted chaos and make something of it.

I’ll be disappointed if it doesn’t work, but I’ll know I tried and I can usually live with that. Better to try and fail than fail to try.

That failure is what irks me more than anything. I hate looking at unfulfilled potential and to know it is like that because someone just wouldn’t take a chance.

That is much harder for me to accept than to try and fail.

Got to be true to myself, got to do the things that helps my heart feel full and make my soul sing.

What a crazy, amazing time.

A magic moment, an eye in the storm and a girl who radiates joy.

Proof that I did something right.

I cannot confirm nor deny wanting to drop a ring of fire around a few people who chose to poke the bear because they needed to be burned and bitten

Nor can I confirm nor deny having tried to send a burning hula hoop to Ex-Lax brownies to said people but I might have laughed at the idea.

But I can confirm having instructed certain children in how long to wait before determining a friend is no longer a friend and the importance having standards

Everyone deserves a chance but not everyone gets one so you need to be aware of how, where and with whom you spend your time.

If you do this you can expect your heart and head to help guide you to make smart decisions or at least hope they are.

Sometimes that works and sometimes it fails.

How To Find Them

There is rhyme or reason to finding them. No guarantee that if you join a book club, hiking group or bowling league that will include finding your person or people.

All that you can do is keep your eyes open and try not to walk into poles while reading or sending text messages.

You’ll know when you find them, maybe immediately, maybe a little longer.

Either way you’ll know and then you’ll have to just run with it and see what happens.

Let out your sail and fly your flag and see what happens.

Or some such rot.

Can you tell I am working on a speech?

I am and I keep changing it.

Keeping massaging and adjusting, trying to find that perfect pitch and tone.

Might not actually get there, but by gum I am going to get damn close.