Blindspot

Have you ever wondered what it is you're oblivious to? I do. I know for a fact that there are things that I am simply clueless about; Things about my own being. Blindspots. Things that others see clearly about me that I simply don't see-- for whatever reason. Maybe because I don't want to, because I don't care enough to, maybe because I haven't looked, or am afraid to look, or don't know where to even start looking. I consider myself a fairly introspective person, but I also know that I see things through a clouded lens. The thing is, I'm not sure if the fog on the lens is good for me or something I use as an excuse to continue to bump into the obstacles. What would my life look like with a slippery clean, brand new view? Would I be good at walking without falling? I have found that the falling always hurts, but it has also made me better at it, my question is, is that really the point? Falling isn't necessarily effortless, but it usually the easier of two options. Why not get better at the more difficult things and less adept at the easy ones? Maybe I'm just crazy. Maybe THAT'S my blindspot!

This morning I woke up
and said hello to the ceiling
Poured my coffee into my cup
with that same familiar feeling

I'm gonna be okay; I'm gonna be alright
As long as there's day at the end of each night
I'm gonna be okay.
As long as dark is still chased by the light
I'm gonna be okay

Five good things to do on an early February Saturday

1. Get up early and beat the old codgers to Denny's.

2. Drink hot, freshly ground and brewed coffee at home first.

3. Get a rip-snortin' fire going in the woodstove.

4. Crank up the music.

5. Feel what you feel.

My life has it's share of 'have to' lists just like yours, but they can wait, can't they? In a world where complication seems to be the norm, I'm still in love with simple. There is something very comforting in simple things. Maybe that's just me.

Night has come, or has it fallen? Which ever the case may be, it is here. And in it's midst am I. There are stars up high in the silence where no man has been, yet every man has dreamed of. Below them is where we will live for a time. Do you wonder if they dream what it's like down here? Down here from where the voices and the laughter emanate. Do they dream of colors and sunlight and showers of noise?

I wonder what will happen when my dreams and my wonder and the stars collide.

The Sound of Silence

For the first time in a long time, it's going to be a white Christmas here!

I have a thing for snow. I love it. Oh sure, it's terrible to drive in and it turns people around me into insufferable drivers, but it's still one of my favorite things. I don't know if it's because I never saw it as a kid and that allows me to be kidlike in my excitement, or if it's just because there's just nothing else like a newfallen snow.

We have been blanketed in white for a week now and I still pull back the shades in my front window now and then just to gawk and marvel.

If you've read here before you know how I dislike silence. Well, silence as a form of response, anyway. But this silence? This snowy silence? It's one of the best things that exists! When the sound of your own breath catches you off-guard and seems like an intrusion...THAT kind of silence is where wonder begins and takes hold.

Tonight is a silent night. Holy night. Let the wonder begin. Let it take hold...of your heart.

Warm and Content

The snow is falling outside and here in my humble abode there is a fire roaring in the woodstove, Christmas music in the background, lights on the tree and on the mantle. I've got a cup of hot chocolate at the ready and a nice quiet night ahead of me. This is my home, it's where I am the most me.

Outside it's cold.

Inside it's not.

Glad I'm inside.

And you? How are you this evening?

There is a road.

It's the one you're on. You never really know where it's going. It winds and meanders and sometimes even backtracks. It's yours. No one else will travel the full length of it with you. Others' roads will intersect with yours or maybe even parallel it for a time, but from start to finish it is your road to travel. Stop and take solace in the fact that you have something of your own. Breathe it in. Soak it up. And then?

Drive on.

Fall comes, fall leaves

The old leaves line the edge of the road as if waiting for a parade. The young leaves start their magical decent like it's a game of charades.

"Is it twirl? Is it dance? Is it tumble or spin?"
I can't really tell, you'll have to do it again."

Then the sunlight knifes through the tree limbs there and all I can do is stop and stare.
Fall isn't only in the air, it can be in your heart if you dare.

Letters Red

If life could be written, I would write mine in letters red. As if the ink were the blood of my heart.

A heart speaks in a language unspoken.
Especially a heart that still bleeds from being broken.

Between heaves and sighs and movement of lungs
A heart sings a song otherwise unsung.

Where sorrows and joys mingle together
Yet less of a noise than an airborne feather.

Where anguish and ecstasy coexist
Not one lifts a finger much less a fist.

This is where my soul rushes to hide
When the sky is dark and crushes my pride.


someday I'd like to have my life written in letters red, but I wonder if those written letters would be read.

A Slight Light

Though the sky is dark, the night is bright.

Tonight I had dinner with my sons. That is 'sons' with an s. Now, normally that is not something to write home about for most people, but alas, I am not writing home AND, I am not most people.

My oldest boy hasn't--or hadn't until tonight--spoken a word to me in fifty days. Fifty. Days!
Whoever said silence is golden was color blind. Silence is black. But tonight there is a hint of color in my world.

Though what we shared was small talk, it was huge to me. If you're a parent you know the value of open communication with your kids. It's in the daily talk and banter that you can get a sense of their well being physically, emotionally, mentally and even spiritually.

Tonight the door cracked open ever so slightly. And light is seeping in.

The Problem With A Camera

The problem with a camera is, it only gives you a limited portion of what's really going on.

My motorcycle and I went for a ride yesterday. We took the camera, too. I couldn't take a picture of the camera, but trust me it was there.

Anyway. I wonder if I'm turning into a loner. I don't mind so much being alone. In fact, there are times when I like it a lot. Almost as much as I like short sentences. I mean, I like people too, but I'm finding more and more enjoyment in places of not-people.

For example, I stopped at this turn in the road on the Cascade River and sat and took pictures and felt the kiss of God in the air. Now, men aren't inclined to use this word very often, but I must say--it was lovely!

As I traveled further down this road it wound and weaved through tunnel-like trees and into wide open clearings, I sped up to speeds in excess of 90 mph and screamed and hollered at the top of my lungs. I sang some James Taylor, some Eagles, but mostly just corny little homemade John songs that can't be repeated simply because they're just that corny.

Maybe the fact that a camera only gives you a limited portion of what's going on isn't so bad after all. :)

Tonight I decided to go take a walk after dark. The decision was actually made before dark--to take a walk after dark.

It's a beautiful night. The eastern sky is deep, deep blue. Not quite black. The outlines of the foothills that surround our valley are still distinguishable. The stars are just beginning their light show, and over there in the west, a lighter hue of blue still hangs on at the point where sky and earth meet. The aromas of early fall have become increasingly noticeable. At first a faint and delicious blackberry smell gives way to a distinct and homey cedar that is fueled by the slightest breeze. My senses are alive and I myself am pleased that they are.

As I walk I can't decide if I've come to collect my thoughts or merely to take inventory of which ones I'll keep and which ones I'll let go.

Walking is a nice way to remember my thoughts as a boy. Maybe it's because I revert back to my first mode of travel, or maybe it's because it's so simple and serene like I was way back then. Either way, it's nice. The street on which I walk is sparsely lit and I like it that way. I can hear the train whistle off in the distance and a cat scurry out from under a car as I walk on. I pass by houses where the front room is lit only by the blue glow of a television. It is so quiet now that I can hear the heel-to-toe rhythm of my own steps beneath me and I suddenly realize that I am thinking the same simple thoughts I did as a boy. I think I'll keep these.

It's a beautiful night.

I just thought I'd tell you.

A Late Summer's Night Song

I'm a whistler by default. And by that I mean that I whistle a LOT! Without really being conscious of it. Today as I was tooling my way up a long dirt driveway I was whistling fairly loudly I guess, because when I got to the woman's house she said, "I could hear you whistling all the way up my road. What a lovely song that was. What was it?" I, of course, was kind of embarrassed having not known I was being listened to and not really even knowing I was whistling said, "Uh, I don't really know." "Well, whatever it was" she said, "keep it up."

Two hours later as I was making the hour drive back to my building I realized I was doing it again...whistling by default. It was the same song I had stuck in my head all day. Who knows why? I surely don't, but I do know it's one of the best songs I've ever heard and it always reminds me of summer.

So...enjoy :)

Faith

I don't understand the sky I stand under

I don't know why and that makes me wonder

I don't yet know how much I don't know



The facts aren't clear, that's clearly a fact

I know God is here, but I can't be exact

I just can't know how much I don't know

Say "Cheesy!"

I've been playing around with my photos, can you tell?

Well, I thought I'd add this one of my girl and my boy being goofy at their brother's birthday dinner.

It needs no caption. They just crack me up!

A Brain on Vacation

I've been home this week on vacation. I could've called it a staycation, but I'm not that hip.

Speaking of 'hip', did you know that it's not hip to use the word 'hip'? That's what my kids tell me.
What then? Unoldfashioned?

I think toast with peanut butter is quite possibly the best food ever. Especially if it's sourdough toast. Seriously.

Did I mention that I'm painting my house? Yep. The exterior. Fun doesn't even come close to describing it. And yesterday?...I fell off the ladder! Well, technically the ladder was falling and I joined in on the frivolity. I really had no choice. Other than a few minor scrapes on my legs and butt, I'm fine. The ladder broke in half though. It was a red ladder day!!

Today I was bored so I went to the gas station to put more air in my tires. Yeah. That bored! Anyway, I threw my wheelbarrow in the back of my truck because it had a flat the last time I used it. Can anyone tell me why wheelbarrow tires have tread on them? Huh?? Just in case you have to take that hairpin turn at 40 miles an hour in the rain maybe?

Speaking of wheelbarrows, (I'm like the king of segues today huh?) I have this fun thing I do on my route to guys who are fully engaged with their wheelbarrow. And by that, of course I mean that they are pushing it while it is completely full. It's sort of an easy IQ test. When I see them I throw my door open wildly and frantically wave at them as if we're best buds. The smart guys will give me the universally accepted head nod. The not-so-smart ones will let go of one handle and try to wave while the wheelbarrow careens out of control and invariably spills whatever's inside. It usually only takes one of those episodes to make a smart guy out of anyone :)

Well, I've gotta go now, I smell the wafting aroma of sourdough bread toasting and it's calling my name.

Toward the blue

She sits alone on the top step of the porch of trailer number 48. Alone that is, except for the baby asleep in the carseat right there beside her.

She's plucking dead leaves off the primroses I suppose she might have bought just this morning. I saw some on sale at the checkout counter at the corner store. Maybe it's just my imagination but her heart, it seems, isn't really into what her fingers are doing. She'll stop occasionally and look off toward the horizon where the cloud cover ends and there is a sliver of blue. There is a sadness on her face. I recognize it. I've seen it in the mirror. Suddenly she realizes I am looking her way and she gives me an embarrassed little smile. I return the smile and whisper to myself "it's okay, I know what you mean...this wasn't part of the dream."

I drive off, aiming straight toward that little sliver of blue.

An Occasion

I'm not sure I can do the thoughts justice, but I'm going to give it a try anyway.

All day Thursday--from the minute I got out of bed--I was anticipating the night. Dinner with my loves to celebrate a birthday. I had a particularly heavy delivery day right from the start, but it didn't deter my mood. Anticipation has a way of doing that.

All three kids were working so I knew that they would not be getting bored while waiting, rather they would welcome the time to relax a bit. My son had picked an Italian restaurant in town where we would meet. I was there first.

As they piled out of the truck I could see that my youngest hadn't done as I had asked...'dress like it's an occasion'. He was wearing his usual gym shorts, a tee shirt and his baseball cap. My daughter was wearing some casual and appropriate shorts and a pretty shirt. The birthday boy had to work late so he was still wearing his work garb. Carhhart pants and a bright orange construction shirt. As it turned out, I was the only one who 'dressed like it was an occasion'. Oh well, we were all wearing smiles so who really cares beyond that?

An economic downturn does wonders for a family of four that can't decide where to eat 'til the last second. We walked in and were seated immediately.

It was so nice to be with them. It's because of them that I now know what delightful means, because when I am with them I am FULL of delight. Our interaction and banter wasn't anything out of the ordinary. There was talk of the day. There was reminiscing about days gone by. There was hopeful talk of what might be around the next bend in our life's road and my heart welled up inside me in such a way as to say "ahhh, this is what we were meant for. This is love." Each one of my kids has left and is leaving an imprint in my heart. Each one of them is uniquely wonderful. Put them all together and I can scarcely take it all in. If there is such a thing as your heart aching with joy, then I know what that means.

As I drove my way and they drove theirs, my eyes filled with tears. Not tears of sadness, but tears of overwhelming beautiful joy. My tears were my heart--overflowing. My face wet with tears was dressed like it was an occasion.

Because it was.

Sixteen. (and 364)

Tomorrow my son turns seventeen.

Let me tell you a little about him.

He is very inward. There are lots of things about him that people just don't 'get'. His humor is very dry (and I doubt it'll ever get wet). His mind is always in gear. He can work circles around most anyone. He is intensely competitive. He is kind. He is generous. He cracks me up. He infuriates me. He is strong. He is brilliant. He uses few words. He loves to learn. He hates to lose. He's protective of his mom and his sister--not so much his brother. He is my son.

Tomorrow he will receive a handful of gifts and he will smile warmly. And in that exchange between his eyes and mine we will both be the recipients of the greatest gift-- love.

Happy Birthday my boy!

Bright Son Shine

All three of my kids are very bright (I think they got it from their mother). My daughter set the bar pretty high. At the high school she attended they have 20 of the best parking spots reserved for the senior students with the highest GPA's. She had spot number 19 (they're alphabetical).
Now, the school isn't huge, but it isn't tiny either. I'd say there are about 900 to 1000 students attending, so that's pretty good, I'd say. She graduated with a 3.9 GPA.

My oldest boy will be a senior this next fall at that same high school and it has been his goal to get one of the coveted parking spots his sister had. So far it's lookin' good. His cumulative GPA is 3.88 as I sit here now. Which is quite an accomplishment. (No, not the 'sitting here now' part!) He broke his thumb on his right hand late in the fall while playing soccer and had pins inserted to repair it. That meant he had to do everything with his left hand for 8 weeks. Not only that, but he took a week and went to Washington D.C. to attend a National Young Leaders conference and, since it was an event not sanctioned by the school, but completely independent of it, he wasn't allowed to make up missed work. Did I mention 'bright'?

And then there's my youngest. He is bright of a different color. He loves baseball, but he LOVES politics and current events. Politics to him is what baseball cards were to me as a boy. When he has a free minute he will get on the computer and hit two or three political sites to see what the pundits are saying. Not only does he know all the leaders' names of most every country in the world, he can pronounce them too!

Two of his favorite worlds recently collided; Baseball and politics. His Babe Ruth team qualified for the state tournament and, as luck would have it, it is being played right here in my home town. On Tuedsday night they had an opening ceremony where each team was announced one player at a time. While he and his teammates were waiting their turn, the mayor of the city--who I know--was waiting to help throw out the ceremonial first pitch. While waiting, the mayor sauntered over to me and we engaged in some small talk about this and that. In the course of our conversation he told me that he was sharing the first pitch duties with a local 'boy' who had played on this same field who was now pitching in the majors for the Philadelphia Phillies and while we spoke the 'guest' walked in and the mayor went to greet him. Now, my son was watching all of this so I ran over to him and told him all the particulars about who the guest was and what he was going to do. The news spread like wildfire amongst his teammates and soon there was a lot of whispering and pointing going on.

On the ride home, after a few somewhat quiet moments, my boy says to me, "Dad, you know what I noticed?" To which I answered, "A lot of things, I'm sure, but...what?" "Well," he said, "one minute the mayor was talking to you, and the next he was talking to a big league pitcher! It seemed like he was much more himself with you." It was as if a light went on. As a politician, not only do you get to talk to cool people, but you might meet professional athletes, too!

:)