I told June I could be bolder and more brazen than anyone she knew not because I was trying to brag but because I was trying to make sure she understood.
Sometimes I am certain she did and other times less so.
But as the song says it is a Mad World and I might be the craziest something or other roaming around this neck of the woods.
Don’t know quite what I am doing or how I got here just that I followed the Yellowbrick road and fought through the flying monkeys, the poppy fields and a handful of other monsters and challenges.
Just when I thought I had it all figured out I discovered I didn’t and now I am here doing it all again under different circumstances and so tired.
So very tired and yet somehow finding strength among the fire and destruction. Click on the past posts and regain insight.
I Remember Finding Out About You
Life is a hell of a ride sometimes. You go about your business and do your thing with no idea that you’ll point and click your way into a new world that will turn everything you know upside down and inside out.
Had a conversation with some of the boys about this and how you have to keep your eyes open because if you don’t you might miss the moment.
One of them said I was talking about FOMO and I shook my head.
“It is not true. I am not talking about fear of missing out on something like a concert, movie or party. This is bigger. This is different.”
They said they didn’t understand and I nodded my head and let it go because you either get it or you don’t.
Checked Dad’s Facebook page and saw he got two more birthday greetings and thought about whether I would respond on his behalf.
Not long ago one of my work colleagues asked about him and said he sounded great and that they would like to meet him.
I smile and said I am the closest they’ll come to doing it in person.
That felt kind of weird to say but it is true, you won’t find anyone who is more capable of imitating the guy.
My middle sister says my oldest nephew does a pretty good imitation but it is not going to be the same.
I have the hands, feet and frame plus 49 years of life experience.
It makes me happy to hear Dad’s grandchildren do their impressions and tell stories because I know that would mean something to him.
He would be pleased they spent enough time together to have it but they don’t have the memories of lying under a car or sink with him and being told what tool to grab.
They weren’t told that if they didn’t throw the first punch they had carte blanche to unload on the other kid.
They weren’t there for instructions from Dad and Grandpa on ways to hit someone or how you could use a roll of quarters to add a little something, something to your punch.
Nor did they sit in a Dodge Colt listening to Dad instruct them on how to do a better job of releasing the clutch and shifting into gear so the car didn’t buck.
And they never had an experience where they wondered how Dad’s words could come out of their mouth, especially when they swore they would never do that.
So many stories, so many memories.