Poured myself a healthy snort of Macallan 12, turned on a space heater and seated myself in front of the Macbook with a hankering to just write.
Got U2’s essentials playing now with Bono belting out One as I test out a headline to see if “He Called It Johnny’s Tale is of more interest to readers than some of the others.
Have to concede it’s been a while since I had a drink and certainly not like tonight so I am feeling it a little bit. Can’t say if that clears out the cobwebs or provides a more honest and unfiltered piece.
Not going to worry about it as it will be whatever it is.
Was involved in a conversation the other day which like so many suddenly ended. Don’t know whether it ceased because of tech, human or animal involvement, just know that some questions were left unanswered.
Made me chuckle because as a storyteller I haven’t any problem filling in the gaps and empty spaces. You leave white space and I can fill it, unless there is a a reason to leave it empty for dramatic purposes.
Sometimes I say nothing and move on.
Sometimes I go write the end down and wonder if it will ever be seen or heard by anyone but me.
That is the interesting part of writing your true thoughts and feeling down.
Not only do you get to confront them but you open yourself up to being confronted. Not everyone wants to be that open and vulnerable– it can be kind of frightening.
Who We Are Today
My daughter called to go over her second semester schedule with me but couldn’t see the big smile on my face. It wasn’t just because she’ll be home in a week but because for a moment I heard the voice she had at five tell me about how she is taking two labs.
Back then she would climb into my lap to watch TV, read a book or sometimes because she liked to lean against me and fall asleep.
Somewhere in the echoes of my mind I can hear my dad talking to me about changes.
“Your mother and I had to get to know each other again. We didn’t have to drive you guys all over and focus solely on you. We had to figure some things out again. One day you will too.”
I never doubted that was true but I admit to being surprised at how fast it came. Reading the paper today I came across a story about divers having found another piece of the Challenger and shook my head.
The shuttle blew up in 1986 when I was a junior in high school. I had dear friends who wanted to be an astronaut and though it wasn’t my dream, there were times when I wondered if I could make it happen.
All of the astronauts on the shuttle were much older than 17 year-old me, so it seemed like something that was possible if I set my sights upon it.
I took a moment to check their ages and confirmed I am older than everyone of them was when they died, significantly older than some.
It makes sense but it is kind of surreal to me to think about. Maybe I am not almost middle aged anymore.
U2 has moved onto Rattle and Hum on my headphones and it occurs to me that thus far everything I have heard came out when I was in high school or college.
The memories some of these songs bring up feel recent but the reality is they come from the depths.
The cars are ’86 Celicas and ’91 Mustangs.
The girls are all mothers and or grandmothers and many of the boys no longer have hair on their heads and some have retired.
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Echoes of the past keep rumbling around. Voices saying all they want to do is spend time with me mix along with others asking if I can take the keys because they have had too much to drink.
I can see us gathered at the Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica, a group of us from the fraternity debating whether the girls on the far side will come walk on the beach with us or if we ought to hit another bar.
The reverie is interrupted by the buzz of the phone and a message from one of the guys who was there on some of those nights.
That brings up pictures of a bigger group and in some ways it is hard to reconcile. The faces are older, this one died a few years ago and that one has been divorced twice.
They stand next to the one who asked questions about dealing with college applications and alongside the other whose son-in-law is probably the same age as we were then.
Storm Walking
Sometimes I forget how many storms I have been through and then a conversation or a moment brings it back to me.
Some of those are worth forgetting because they hold no value and don’t merit reflection because there is no experience to draw upon.
There is no success or lesson you can use down the road, but not all.
Some are what you pull upon when you realize a procedure failed or that something has gone wrong and you need to pull upon another source of energy.
Another source that you use because you’re tired of the nonsense and BS that life can sometimes throw at you.
Had a couple of moments today in which I had to dig around and rummage a bit to find those. I was pretty irritated and considered just walking on a few things.
Considered saying I had enough and that I didn’t need to deal with it any longer but something held me back. So I took a moment to consider and played out a couple of scenarios in my head.
The result was that I put a hold on some of it because the storm is here and I just didn’t recognize I was already in it.
Don’t know what it will look like on the other side but I know what I hope for. Guess we’ll have to wait and see what the sky looks like when the clouds pass and the skies clear.
It is going to be interesting.
