Going To California

The fine folks who read Your Kind Of Trouble reached out and asked if Going To California is in my future and I laughed because when isn’t it.

Some people have a covent tree with places in the Midwest and others will forever think of LA as home, regardless of whether I ever live there again.

Already have been told by the Wilner men of Jerusalem that I ought to come visit them there so that I can be reminded of where home is.

Reminds me of a conversation once had about this song and others knowing I am between places and spaces for now, maybe forever.

Mom asked if I have any health issues now and I said sure, I am 51, there are some but I am not worried.

Reminded me a bit of a time when I was sick and my eldest was quite young.

“Daddy, are you dying?”

“Not yet.”

“Sounds like it.”

“One day, not today.”


Can’t Find My Way Home

Stumbled into the weekend hearing Can’t Find My Way Home and woke up feeling like someone had helped me adjust my attitude.

Took all of a minute to remember Dad telling me about a guy who once worked for him and how he had his attitude fixed.

Dad said he was a tough guy who had been around a bit and wasn’t afraid to let you know it, at least until two guys with a Louisville Slugger spent some time with him. Can’t remember how much time off he needed but I do remember hearing he was far more docile afterwards.


Two days ago I had to make a quick run across town and found myself in an aisle in which I had to move some larger items.

Looked to the right, looked to the left and didn’t see anyone and smiled because I didn’t have to wait for any help nor did I want it.

Had someone been close enough to see me they still wouldn’t have caught the Cheshire Cat grin across my face, but it was there.

Because I am there is a boy trapped inside of the man who always wants to test his strength and is unceasingly impressed or irked with his ability to move/lift things.

During one of those last conversations with Dad we talked about the confidence that comes with knowing our strength is still there.

I remember just the two of us sitting there at the rehab facility and him saying that if he could get his legs to cooperate he would make things work.

“Motor skills aren’t what I want, but my arms are 0k.”

I smiled and said I remember him sliding boxes across the room.

“You know being strong enough to throw the boxes ten feet isn’t good for the boxes or organizing them.”

He rolled his eyes and gave me a one finger salute.

“Didn’t think I could do that, did ya. I can still get things done.”

“Behave or I’ll tell Mom you were lifting boxes you weren’t supposed to.”

Dad laughed and told me to go ahead.

“She’s not worried about that and I already told you not to aggravate her.”

I miss aggravating him.

In the days of my youth
I was told what it was to be a man
Now I’ve reached the age
I’ve tried to do all those things the best I can
No matter how I try
I find my way to do the same old jam
Good times, bad times
You know I had my share

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