Things I've Been Thinking...

I have been at sort of a lull here for some time in my writing, but that doesn't mean my mind has stopped (thank God), it just means that I can't seem to nail down a particular subject to write about. So I thought I'd just jot down a few things I've been thinking about writing about. They are all 'still in the oven'...Not quite fully baked as of yet, so....You may never get the full skinny, but here are some random samplings and, I must warn you, some of them are as ridiculous as the very fingers that have the chore of bringing them to bear.

-What is it that causes us to bring something that we believe in intellectually down that little chute connecting our heart with our brain? I mean, it's easy to believe in things factually without them affecting our life, but what about things like love, faith, drive, influence? Since our mind is responsible for things like thinking and deciding, it would follow naturally that letting something MATTER to us deeply is something that is merely decided upon by our brain. I'm really beginning to doubt that though...There may be a physical disconnect of heart and head, but you can't simply live exclusively from one or the other. This may be a 'duh' moment for some of you, but, whatever. I've been thinking about it.

-Here's a real deep one for ya...What's the difference between a crow and a raven? And, No! You can't Google it! And why is that some names of things seem to have been given on days when all the good scientists had the day off...For instance--an orange, a blackbird, a bug, a warthog!

-What if we all started acting as if today really was the last day of your life? I mean, don't you think we'd get used to that kind of intensity? Wouldn't it be nice not to have to hold back so much? To not worry or wonder or care if what your friends said was really true? People who say 'what you see is what you get' are lying. Nobody is one dimensional. I've never seen a person with words like--liar, slightly neurotic, impulsive, ignorant, calloused, deep or even genuine--written in everything they do and say.

-Wouldn't it be nice if the word 'border' had never been invented? Or 'mine', or 'yours' ? We all share the same rain and earth and sky and pain, but because mine is mine and yours is yours I want to keep it from you so the borders are intact. We all want a world without war and yet we will defend an OPINION to the death and to hell with the consequences as long as I'm right!

Hey, I told you I was going to tell you what I've been thinking about. I never said it was going to be syrupy and sappy...And since I brought it up, what's the difference between syrupy and sappy? Isn't syrup just sap?

The End.



-

Few things rival laughter
Save maybe joy

The kind I was after
When I was a boy

A run through the wood
Catching rain on my tongue

Writing down words
To songs yet unsung

I'd lie on my back
To ask and to wonder

All fears did I lack
With no mask to hide under

I laughed and I cried
I lived wild and free

But then something died
The child inside me

And tonight I will bask
In tears with no shame

As I take off the mask
With no one to blame

Take a look in the mirror
And find there true joy

Tho blurred by a tear
Of a full grown boy

What?? Another Post? Already???!!!

Yeah, I know, it might be too soon. What with the rash of comments I've been getting on my posts lately I can hardly keep up!

It seems that my mind (both this one and that pea-sized thing in my head) have become blank slates. I wish there were some sort of rational reason, but take a look at both of those words....Go ahead, I dare ya...They both require brain activity, duh! Sometimes I'm just as dumb as a post. Hmm, do you suppose that might be a play on words?...Nah!

So, why am I here clicking these keys with letters on them, you might ask? And boy am I glad you did! The reason is simple: it's too windy to stack feathers, it's too wet to shot-put sand, and I can't dance!! Interpreted: I'm bored out of my head!

Tell me then, oh faithful reader(s), what is like to have a life? And how can I go about getting one too? I'm a guy with a sense of humor and a sense of adventure too (not to mention a funny looking face), so where is step one on the map out of this place called the doldrums? Should I go crawl up on my roof and howl at the moon (which is splenderful tonight, I might add)? Should I get the garden hose out and water down the road in front of my house so it freezes and then laugh with glee (you remember her..She never comes over anymore either) as the unsuspecting speeders spin out of control and then call 911 and take credit for being a hero? Should I just crack open a bottle of wine? Nah, then it'll spill all over the place. Can you see my dilemma here? Can you feel the frustration level rising? So TELL ME already!!!

If I don't get at least ONE comment I'm going to go take a bath in the goo from a million Advil gelcaps just to deaden the pain.

'Twas The Night Before...

Here's an interesting poem I heard today loosely based on "The Night Before Christmas". It is called "The Night Before Jesus Came"...I hope it stirs something in you.


'Twas the night before Jesus came and all through the house
Not a creature was praying, not one in the house.
Their Bibles were lain on the shelf without care
In hopes that Jesus would not come there.

The children were dressing to crawl into bed,
Not once ever kneeling or bowing a head.
And Mom in rocker with baby on her lap
Was watching the Late Show while I took a nap.

When out of the East there arose such a clatter,
I sprang to my feet to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash!

When what to my wondering eyes should appear
But angels proclaining that Jesus was here.
With a light like the sun sending forth a bright ray
I knew in a moment this must be The Day!

The light of His face made me cover my head
It was Jesus! returning just like He had said.
And though I possessed worldly wisdom and wealth
I cried when I saw Him in spite of myself.

In the Book of life which He held in His hand
Was written the name of every saved man.
He spoke not a word as He searched for my name;
When He said "It's not here" my head hung in shame.

The people whose names had been written with love
He gathered to take to His Father above.
With those who were ready He rose without a sound
While all the rest were left standing around.

I fell to my knees, but it was too late;
I had waited too long and this sealed my fate.
I stood and I cried as they rose out of sight'
Oh, if only I had been ready tonight.

In the words of this poem the meaning is clear'
The coming of Jesus is drawing near.
There's only one life and when comes the last call
We'll find that the Bible was true after all!



We were'nt ready the first time He came, do you suppose we'll be ready next time?

Birthday Brother

I am the youngest of seven kids. Always have been :) Which means I have at least seven birthdays to remember, but if you know me at all you know that I have a great memory for things that most people forget. If only I could switch that so I could remember important things, well then, I'd be set. Set in what? I dunno. Ah, but I digress.

Today is my brother's birthday. The brother that is just two years older than I. The brother that I, as a kid, thought hated me. The one that was my most bitter rival in all things brotherly. The one who, if he caught me riding his bike would chase me down, grab that bike by the sissy bar (remember those?...If you don't, don't ask) and walk me to a dead stop and tip me off of said bike only to ride it home and park it in the garage. The brother that always seemed to get lost in the shuffle. I mean, even his birthday always played second fiddle to Christmas (not to mention the fact that if falls on the shortest day of the year), but he never complained. Never!...Still doesn't. When we were young I thought he would break me in half, and he easily could have, given the fact that he outweighed, out-muscled, out-almosteverythingelsed me, but he never hurt me terribly. And now that I have two boys of my own with roughly the same age distance between them, I'm beginning to understand that he pummeled me because that's what brothers do, not out of hate or malice. It helped to make me who I am today. And who I am today is his little brother that is grateful and full of admiration and respect for a the man that my brother is.

Happy Birthday Will! (I'd shake your hand but I know you could still snap it off in a heartbeat if you wanted to :)

Away Is Where I've Been

Well it's been a while hasn't it? Yeah, I've been away, both figuratively and literally.

I had two weeks of vacation in November which I spent in California and Kauai. The first week it was just me visiting friends and family in Ca. and the second week my kids and I spent in Hawaii. That seems like eons ago. There was sunshine and laughter and fun and being together...all of which are very close to the top of the list of my all time favorite things. The time spent with my kids was starting to feel like finally we were reconnecting a bit. I was loving it and feeling really encouraged. But as quickly as it began, it ended. Since I dropped them off at their mom's on Nov. 26, I have not seen my daughter (she's back at school), I've seen my 15 year old for ONE half hour, and my 13 year old I've seen for one full day all tolled.

This living from the heart takes it's toll. I could sit here and tell you that I'm used to it; That, over the cousre of the past 8 1/2 years I've learned to deal with it; That, oh sure it hurts, but I've grown a callous on that part of my soul and I'll be just fine; That if I've found that busyness and having clear life goals and continuing towards those has been a source of healing; But those would all be lies. The fact is, that just this morning I stopped just before I left my house, there in the entryway where the pictures of my three babies hang, and kissed my index finger and touched a picture of their faces and tried hard not to cry because, today?... That's the extent of our interaction. That hurts my heart.

So. If I'm going to continue living with this heart, I'm going to let it show a little instead of hiding and quit trying so hard to 'just get over it'. I know many, many people with bruises on their heart that I want as my friends so I'm going to give them my broken heart so we at least have that in common.

What about you? Where have you been hiding?

It Hardly Seems Possible...

...13 years ago today I became a father for third time. I say it like that because each experience of becoming a father is completely different. I don't like to say I became a father again, or simply that we had another child. As if any of it is remotely the same. Each child is an original experience. Their birth. Their baby-ness. What they do to my insides. How we navigate in, around, and through each other. I love each of my kids uniquely.

Today, however, I get to celebrate the birth of my youngest. Holy Cow! How did he turn 13 when I'm still 25?? How did he become smarter than me? Why do I have to ask him how he thinks I should vote on I-933? When did tickling become passe and girls become okay? Ah well, these are the unanswerable questions that life hands me by the bucket full. The funny thing is, my son seems to have been blessed(?) with the same ability to ask questions and I love it!

The other day we were stopped at a stoplight and there were three kids approximately his age, kind of oddly dressed, that were acting typically teenage-y, that caught his eye. He said nothing, just observed. Maybe 10 minutes later as we were still driving, he asks, "Dad, the plural of cactus is cacti, right?" "Yeah", I reply. "And the plural of alumnus is alumni, right?" "Yeah" ...long pause. Then he says, "Well I can only surmise then, that those dudes at that last corner would be a group of dufi." How hilarious is that!?? It was then that I reached over and tousled his hair and soaked in another moment. I love being his dad!

Happy Birthday to him!

And a great day to the rest of you :)

Book Titles by R.B. Trary

Remember as a kid, those cheesy book titles followed by their extra cheesy authors? You know...

...Yellow River by I.P. Freely

Under The Bleachers by Semour Butz, etc.?



Well, today I thought of a few, more up to date versions...

-The Press Is Always Right by Condy Cending

-No First Names by Anderson Cooper

-Where Have All The Soldiers Gone? by Tupac Tharebags

-There Were No Weapons by Reed Mylips

-It Comes Back Around by Boomer Ang

-Hiding In The White House by Juneau Wariam

-What Did You Step In? by Ishmael Sinnear

-Tracking Bin Laden by Chase N. Araynbo

-I Am Not A Snob by Art C. Fahrtse

-This Time We'll Get Him by Terry Gozagen

-Whistles In My Head by Wendy Windblows

-He's Still President by Wyatt Neverwerks

-Hillary's Last Dance by Ben Thayer and Don That

-Mission Accomplished by Ugatta B. Kidden

-You're Gorgeous George! by Wendell Ites-Gowowt


...I'm sure you guys can think of some more. Come on! This'll be fun :)

My Own Fog

It was foggy today. It was a lingering, heavy fog. The forecast said it might blow off, it might not. It seems as though that same fog has infiltrated my heart of late. I don't know how to explain it really, but it's a heavy, lingering fog. It's a funny thing, fog. Each particle of mist, in and of itself is hardly discernible, but when they gang up and hold hands you can scarcely see your hand in front of your face.

Well, the particles have slowly been sneaking into my life, seemingly undetected, certainly not invited or properly addressed and they seem intent on making it hard to see anything clearly. And they're succeeding.

Not one day goes by where this sentence doesn't come into play at some point: "If I had loved well I wouldn't be here right now." Now, I realize that any good relationship is all about give and take...Simultaneously. So did I give too much? Did I take too little? Did I take too much? These questions haunt me. Will I ever get a definitive answer? No. But my empty house silently screams to me, "Why does it matter? The fact is, you failed." I have no answer. And a particle sneaks in.

I love my kids with all of my heart. If I had more heart I'd give them that too. My 15 year old son has a beautiful heart buried in confusion and anger. He has been the source of more frustration in my life than I thought was possible. We misunderstand each other gravely. Nothing hurts like being misunderstood by someone you love. My intentions for him are filled with a deep love reserved for my children, yet through his eyes I look like the devil's brother. Nothing I do or say seems to matter. The fog thickens.

I'm alone. Duh. That's why I'm spilling pathetic, forlorn words out into the internet. As pathetic as it sounds, I'm downright lonely sometimes. I walk around here singing schmaltzy songs that make me laugh. Songs about candy corn and Snickers and in the background a lonely candle flickers (see. I told you they were schmaltzy!) . You see, I realize that I'm nothin' extraordinary. If anything, I'm extraordinarily ordinary, but I have a heart to give away. I firmly believe that a heart can't be won...It must be given. I want to sing schmaltzy songs and laugh and dance and hold hands and enjoy being myself with someone while we give our hearts away to each other. But I'm still afraid of failing; of misunderstanding; of being misunderstood; of not getting through. I'm paralyzed in the fog.

The fog is thick. Tomorrow's forecast says it might blow off, it might not.

Life out the door

I used to wonder as a kid, what my dad saw and thought and did during a day at work. Maybe someday my kids will wonder the same thing, so I take my camera with me sometimes to chronicle the what I saw part of my day. These last few weeks we've been blessed with some enormously beautiful days. Here's a sampling of what I get to look at out the open door of my truck.












Isn't it perrrrty?












Maybe even...artistic?

Herkimer!

About a year ago, two of my three brothers and I took a 2 and 1/2 week vacation to the East coast. Originally we had planned to visit our 'mother land'--The Netherlands--however, when fuel prices started their way up the escalator we decided to try something different. Something we had never done before. All of us are very fond of driving and road trips but the thought of driving all the way out to the friggin' other side of the country was a bit much. So, instead we found some last minute deals to D.C. which we thought would be a nice place to start a road trip.

We had a few 'must see' spots picked out like, Gettysburgh, Cooperstown, New York City, and of course, upstate New York to view the foliage. Other than that we had no real itinerary. We're all pretty good at wingin' it.

The original plan had us renting a Jeep. (Jeeps are manly ya know ;) Well, original plans rarely come to fruition do they? All that was left when we stepped into the rental pickup point was...a minivan!! Yeah, also quite manly. As it turned out though, it was great. Although it was never a point we had to prove, it seems that it's not illegal to drive with both sliding doors open. Even on the freeway! Anyway, as luck would have it, or more specifically, as it is when you're the youngest sibling, I got the back seat most of the time which was really fine with me since I was also in possession of a New York Atlas and Gazetteer. Yay. I love maps. So as we're bookin' along the backroads of nowhere, I shouted out from the back seat, "Herkimer!" To which, both of my brothers slowly turned their heads in my direction and and said, "What??!!" Maybe that was a question that they regret to this day. "Herkimer! (which is the name of a small town we had just passed.) Doesn't that sound like something New Yawkahs would say? I mean, c'mon! Hukimah. Her-kimer flattop, Her-kimer gooovin' up slowly..." I could sing the whole thing here for ya but, you know. Or not. Ah, but I digress. So even now, a year later, when I want to let one of my brothers know I'm thinking about them I'll either text the word or leave it on their voicemail--'Herkimer!"

By the way, if you're really bored you might want to read more. The trip was a first for us in many ways, not the least of which was our first foray into blogging. Here it is

a leaf

The wind which had coursed through my veins for the past few weeks finally got the best of me. Try as I might, with all my might, I could hold on no longer. So let go I did and had I but known what a ride I was in for, I'd have done so much sooner. On the wind I spun and twirled and danced with delight to a destination unknown. And in the midst of my dizzying fall, me in all my color, I glanced back to see the others left hanging. Green. With envy.

And Sometimes...

...I SUCK AT BLOGGING!!!

Sometimes I think too much

Sometimes I feel too little

Sometimes I'm tired

Sometimes I'm tired of being tired

Sometimes I hide away

Sometimes I let my mind wander

Sometimes I think of you

Sometimes I cry

Sometimes I'm melancholy

Sometimes I'm just plain cheesy

Sometimes I'm full of longing

Sometimes I'm content

Sometimes my heart is singing

Sometimes it just hurts

Sometimes you think you know me

Sometimes I wish you did

Sometimes I crave solitude

Sometimes I am lonely

Sometimes I understand you

Sometimes I'm confused

Sometimes I'm inspired

Sometimes I am paralyzed



Sometimes I am all of these all in one day...like today.

Summer and what it looks like when it's winding down....














































...in my little world.

The Post In Which I Feebly Try To Describe The Indescribable

I have this friend, her name is Steph.

I don't even know if I can begin to do justice to even a portion of what she means to me, but I'm going to give it a fair shake right here and now, because she has inspired me to.

She doesn't know it, but this morning as I was reading (a practice she has unwittingly thrust me into) I looked over at my nightstand and there, perched atop a stack of books that, before I knew her, would simply not have been there, I eyed a little blue booklet. It's a booklet she gave me once when I came to visit her. It's beautiful. You know what's beautiful about it? It is completely handmade by her. She made the paper. She bound it with silky blue ribbon. She attached a handmade ornament on the front. She then filled it with some of her favorite quotes by people like Shakespeare, Thoreau, Frost and even Dave Barry. All of them handwritten in, I might add, beautiful sweeping cursive penmanship the likes I've never seen. I'm not exaggerating when I say it's an absolute keepsake! And you know what makes it a keepsake? It's what moved me this morning when I saw it, to hold it in my hands and read it through twice and be warmed by this thought: It's a piece of her. She put thought and effort into every last detail of it. Right down to the fact that she left the last few pages empty so that I might finish it with my favorite quotes. That's just how she is. She cares well.

Have I mentioned that she's funny? Or smart? Or pretty? Or real? Or compassionate? Or witty? Or more wonderfully different than anybody that I know?? Well then, let me mention that NOW! This woman has a perspective that is...well, indescribable. One of my favorite things she has ever said about herself to me is this, "I rarely have a bad hour, much less a bad day." And I've found it to be absolutely true. This one thing about her has, more than almost any other thing, been my saving grace. It's not that I never have a bad hour or a bad day anymore, but somehow when I'm getting down, I think of her and I can't help but smile (if not laugh) with delight, and it pulls me out of almost certain doldrums. She is the smile of God!...with attitude. It's not a benign, or slapped-on smile either. It is as real as her soul because that's where it comes from. There's nothing fake about it. Even without knowing it at times, she has this way of finding something good about a person and accentuating it. She would probably deny that, but that's because she has a tendency not to see herself the way I do. I guess that's only fair because I have the same tendency when it comes to how she sees me. She builds me up when life tries to tear me down. Did I mention that she's amazing?

I would be remiss if I didn't say that she loves her God with all her heart and coming in at a close second are her two spectacular girls. There's nothing more precious than the way she calls them 'baby'. Nothing.(I love them both and they are darlings.) I've been lucky enough to witness both of her first loves first hand. One of my favorite pictures of her is planted at that spot in my heart where I hide things that I treasure. Suffice it to say that I've seen parts of her soul...And I am in awe. I cherish and treasure (CAT;) her more than mere words can describe.

However, there is one thing that I simply hate and it is this: She lives so damn far away!! I'm a communicative kind of a guy (just ask her how many ridiculous text messages she gets every stinkin' day!!) and there's something that emails and texts and even phone calls can't deliver. I think a good friendship deserves that one thing: presence. I hope to experience it again soon.

Very soon.

Just...A Little

My youngest son is 12 years old. In many ways he's a lot like most 12 year old boys. He loves baseball (Gee, I bet you didn't see that one coming!), he's the catcher because "I'm in on every single play." He loves soccer, he gets queasy at the thought of girls, and he could eat pizza for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

In many ways he very, very different from most 12 year old boys. He's a voracious reader. I'm talkin' serious here. I got him the full set of The Chronicles of Narnia for Christmas (767 pages), he had it read in 3 days. And if that's not crazy enough, he LOVES to read history books. I mean history text books. He knows more about what's going on in the world than almost anyone I know. Last year his sister headed of to college at Washington State and one night late in the fall we got a phone call from her. She asked to speak to her brother (who was 11 at the time) to ask him the name of a particular General in a battle in the Civil War. His quote to her was: "You need to pay better attention! Everybody knows it was General such and such !" He had read her entire senior History text book the year prior-just for fun-he says.

He also loves politics. Sometimes when I have to leave him home while I run quickly to the store I'll let him watch TV to wile away the time. Invariably, when I get home I can see him flipping back and forth between CNN and Fox News. He loves the stuff! He can tell you all 9 of the Justices on the Supreme Court and who they were appointed by. He can tell you who voted which way on many major trials and who was the swing vote and on and on. Justice is in his soul. He and I argue vehemently on many political issues. I sometimes play the devil's advocate just to see if he's thought out his position. He's a bright boy. While other boys are playing X-Box or Gamecube, he's thinking about whether the U.N. is a viable entity. Seriously.

Not long ago he amazed even me when were driving down the road. He was looking out the window, seemingly counting clouds rush by, when he astonished me with this: "Dad, did you know that the fifth amendment basically says you can remain silent as to not incriminate yourself, and the fifth commandment basically says you should always tell the truth. Right? Well don't you think it would be better if more people, instead of invoking the fifth amendment (yes, this is how he speaks), knew they had to invoke the fifth commandment? (long silence)...Ironic, don't you think?"

He aspires to be a judge someday. Pretty cool don't you think?

Full Circle

I'm lucky enough to have a job where I get to ride around, both doors open, wind in my hair, gawking and imagining and generally being curious about many things. I get to be a moving part in a mostly fixed world. Houses, roads, ocean, sky all fixed in their positions and me, wandering through, fixing my gaze on the other movements.

Today I saw a little boy in a red baseball cap, riding his bike with his baseball glove slid onto his handlebars. I couldn't help but wonder where he was headed. What would happen when he got there? How would he remember today? I imagined the rest of his day and thought, Ahh, now that's the life!

Then I saw two men, probably in their late 50's early 60's, driving in a beat-up old Chevy truck. Fishing poles jutting out over the edge. Rubber boots and tackle boxes lined up neatly under the cab window. I found myself wanting to know where their fishing hole would be today. What a great day to go fishing! I pictured a few spots I would choose if I were them. I wondered if the fishing was really the point today. I thought to myself, Ahh, now that's the life!

Later I saw a man and his son in an enclosed tractor out in a field, pulling a 5 bottom rollover plow. The dad was standing next to his son, who was driving. It seemed he was pointing at gauges and controls and explaining to his boy what each gauge indicated and what the levers were for. A father and a son. A teacher and a pupil. What a sweet relationship that might be, I thought. And once again my loudest thought cried out, Ahh, now that's the life!

Still later, I saw man and a woman that must have been 80 years old, if a day. They were shuffling slowly down a quiet street. Hand in hand. Stopping more than starting. Every flower seemed to spark a new conversation. I couldn't help but stop and take it all in. I was curious about their pace. Were they going slow because they wanted to or because they had to, I wondered. Does pace even matter when you're holding hands? Wouldn't it be nice not to care, I asked myself. And then I answered, Ahh, now that's the life!

.... and suddenly I could feel a pair of eyes behind me. It was a little boy on a bike, it could've been me. He was staring at me with his eyes glazed over and mouth agape in wonder as if to say, 'I wonder what his day is like. Driving around with his doors wide open, wind in his hair and generally getting to be curious about life.' I thought to myself, Ahh, now THIS is the life!

Are You Ready...

...Okay. Here goes. For the past three mornings I've come here to try to articulate things that are going on inside, but I just couldn't get them from down here (pointing at chest), to up here (pointing to space between ears).

Sadness is a part of life. It just is. Just like learning to hate brussel sprouts as a kid, is. Happiness is also a part of life. I 'm sure of it. In the same way as having to listen to your mom say, "They're good for you! Now eat them!", is.

So.

My previous post (since deleted) essentially said--I'm sad. It was a simple statement of fact. I could have just as easily said that I hate brussel sprouts, but then all three of you would have finally been convinced of that suspicion you've had all along--this guy has totally lost it! But really I haven't. Let me explain it.

The first part of my sad state has to do with my daughter heading back to school. It seems like just a few weeks ago that she came home for the summer. I had so looked forward to summer so we could reconnect and spend some time together--just to be. Well, she got a good job that kept her quite busy and, of course, she has a pile of friends that filled in the waking hours between. Suffice it to say we didn't spend much time together at all, and the times we did get were either hurried or one of us seemed preoccupied, and now she's all the way across the state at school.

Secondly, yet more prominently, there was Sam. Sam is a friend of mine that is dying of cancer. He has been a friend of mine for the past four years. Another mutual friend of ours, Mark, had a great idea. An idea spurred by a comment from his mom at a funeral last year. She slid up next to Mark and whispered, "Isn't it funny how many people will take a day off to go to someone's funeral but how few of the same people would take a half hour to visit when the man was still alive?" It struck a chord with Mark. He decided not to let our friend Sam go without knowing who he impacted and how. He threw a party for Sam and even put an ad in the local paper telling any and all who cared that Sam was not doing well and could stand a little encouragement. Well, the party was a huge success. There were cakes that said, 'We Love You Sam", there were balloons, there were cards to sign and all tolled there were probably around 200 people there. Each one armed with a hug or a handshake or a kiss. While Sam's body is becoming frail and his outward strength diminished, his spirit is bouyed and his eyes shone like the sun.

So, in essence, I was sad that I was sad. There is SO much to be glad about. I have a beautiful-beyond-belief daughter, and I have friends that let me be significant to them and they actually kind of like me.

Now I'm happy.

I walked out this morning and I wrote down this song...

I write songs. In my mind, not on paper. Little cheesy, schmaltzy, strange ones. No really. I have this propensity for making up really dumb songs about anything and everything that might be going on in my mind at any given moment. They're not particularly good, mostly, since I can't read or write a lick of music. Actually, they're more than likely, terrible. Did I mention that they're schmaltzy. I think I did. Anyway, I find it to be a therapeutic way to release things out of my head and heart. Oh, and then I sing them. To myself.

For instance, tonight as I was leaving my ex-wife's house after dropping off my boys, I started singing a song I'll call "If You Only Knew". I sing a different variation of it almost every time I drive away. "Whether heading east or west it matters not to me, a road that winds the least is best because it brings you straight to me..." or something like, "Even when the sky is clear my heart's a deeper blue, whenever I turn from here and drive away from you..." or, "In the windshield I love the distance, when I see you waiting in it. In the mirror I hate the distance, when I see you fading in it." I don't know that I'll ever sing these songs in front of another person (just writing them here is difficult) but, I do want my kids to know that this is a part of who I am. I mean, I'm all grown up and doing fine and I'm not a walking basket case, but there are parts of every day that make me miss them. So at the behest of several of my friends and family members I'm going to start journaling these things. Here are my questions to you: If and when you journal, how do you do it? Who are you addressing? What is your goal? (ie: future reference, creative release, mental excercise, etc.) If you don't journal, why not?

You know me. Simply curious. Or should that be...curiously simple?