I don’t know how many of you have ever spent Thanksgiving by yourself. Don’t know if that sounds normal or strange or anything in between.
It isn’t something that I am used to but the one time I did I was ok with me because it was part of a larger plan.
There was a rhyme and reason to it and I knew that if I wanted to I could reach out to a few people in Texas to ask if I could tap in or hop a flight back to LA.
Dad and I talked about it and I said I didn’t care about going back because it wasn’t that big a deal to me. I was doing this to give my family a better life and I was happy to make that kind of sacrifice.
He got it and he agreed. As soon as I received the 0ffer for the new position he pushed me to accept it and I obviously did.
Did so knowing that there might be changes in the years that followed but never expected them to come so soon.
Never expected that while I ate a piece of turkey in my Grapevine apartment on a TV tray and wished my folks a Happy Thanksgiving there would never be another with both of them.
November 2016 feels like a lifetime ago already, but I have a vivid memory of talking to both my parents and saying one day we would do it in Texas.
We did get time together. We celebrated Chanukah 2017 and welcomed 2018 together, but who knew that would be dad’s last trip here.
Mom toasted dad tonight, we said L’Chaim and later she and I spoke about him a bit.
And now as the late evening has arrived and midnight rouses itself from slumber I think about one sided Thanksgiving conversations.
‘Cuz mom’s conversation with me raised a few questions and the only person who can answer them…can’t.
The Times Are Changing
Bob’s singing and I am nodding my head because the lyrics are still relevant and because it fits my life.
The big changes have started and I can feel the Rube Goldberg machine that runs destiny starting to warm up.
Can hear the hum as the electricity surges towards it and know that the clickity-clacking is coming my way.
Sometimes it makes me a little crazy because the tick-tocking of time doesn’t match up with the clacking and I hate waiting to see if I what I expect matches with what is.
‘Cuz it is hard to believe that what began as a mistake became of paramount importance because it illuminated things I couldn’t see and illustrated what had to happen.
Highlighted the need for a course correction and though I was slow to take action upon it, I did it.
Did it and saw an immediate reward as well as some significant growing pains. I can deal with those, but I admit the nicks, scrapes and bruises take longer to heal than they once did.
It is the price of being almost middle aged.
The music plays and I raise my head but the person I’d look towards isn’t around. Though I could ping them, could ask a question I choose not to.
For the moment I’ll stay silent and keep my thoughts to myself, retain ownership until circumstances make it necessary or reasonable to do otherwise.
After all it is a a Thanksgiving of one sided conversations.
Too Old To Change
Somewhere in the archives is the story of a man I worked with 22 years ago who complained that he was too old to change.
I was barely 27 and he was 20 years older than I was.
It is funny to think now about how old I thought 47 was because I know now how wrong I was about it.
That is the benefit of life experience, I have lived and learned enough to know a few things.
Forty-seven is old enough to have some real experience, but not nearly too old to be stuck in a rut you cannot get out of.
Part of the reason I hear that humming is because I know I have changes that have to be made. I have things to do that cannot be ignored because I can’t live with not trying.
Can’t be the guy that says I might have, should have or could have.
Might be the one who says it didn’t work, but won’t be the one who didn’t try.