Monday, September 28, 2009
Remember when you first learned to ride a bike? Remember that feeling in the pit of your stomach as Dad took the training wheels off? The anticipation, the excitement...the fear? Dad would run along side holding you up as you tried to peddle faster and faster. Remember how red his face got and how he huffed and puffed? You’d be screaming, “Don’t let go...Don’t let go.” But he would...and you’d fall. You’d skin a knee...bruise an elbow. Then one time Dad let go and...you didn’t fall. You were actually riding a two-wheeler. You were flying. You were lord of the sidewalk. And all the skinned knees and bruised elbows were a small price to pay for the feeling of the wind on your face and this new found personal freedom. The point is you took a chance. Sure you failed a few times, but when you succeeded...you were magnificent. Life is like that. Never take a chance and you’ll never fail, you’ll never skin a knee, you’ll never bruise an elbow...you’ll never fly.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
So, what do you suppose was on the mind of the first person to think that an oyster just might be a good thing to eat? “Hey...lookee here. Crunchy on the outside...Chewy on the inside.” And what about potatoes and carrots and rutabagas? Who woke up one morning and thought to themselves, “I’m gonna go out and find a nice patch of dirt and then dig around in it until I find something to eat”? And then there’s wine. Did you ever wonder who was the first to think that a glass of really old, leftover warm grape juice might just hit the spot? Which brings me to ...Escargot. Who was the first to think to themselves...”Ya know, I’ve really got the munchies and I’ll bet those snail thingies would make a great snack”? One can only pray they had a nice butter, wine and garlic sauce to go along with that very first bite. All those extraordinary people who crossed those forbidden lines and had the courage to go where no one had ever gone before must have been truly adventurous souls. Or maybe they were just the losers in some ancient game of “Double Dare Ya”.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
This morning it dawned on me again. Mornings being the preferred time to have things dawn on me. Today really is brand new day. A yet to be used, twenty four hour period of time that I own. Oh sure, there are responsibilities and obligations, but it’s my life and it’s my time. I’m the boss. I get to choose. Now, of course, I’m going to choose to spend some of my time on my responsibilities and obligations, but the rest of my time this brand new day...I’m spending on me. And if that sounds selfish, well, maybe it is. But I only have so much time. And I still have hopes and dreams. Things I want to accomplish...goals I need to reach. And if I don’t spend some of my time chasing after my dreams, nobody else is going to get out there and chase them for me. Every minute I let slip by that I’m not learning, wondering, questioning, understanding or trying to reach further and higher...is my time...wasted. And I only have so much time. Today really is a brand new day. A day full of my time yet to spend. I hope when my time runs out, someone will be able to say...he spent the time he was given wisely.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Our neighbors just put up a brand new fence. A brand new, shiny bright, wooden fence. And in this old neighborhood... it sticks out like the perverbial sore thumb. Which got me to thinking. Now, don’t get me wrong. New has some good things going for it. The biggest one being...well...it’s new. But new can be brash and inappropriate. New can be noisy...even to the eyes. And new is always terribly inexperienced. Age has earned its place. Age has a quiet confidence and a proven strength. It has weathered the storms of time. And while age often shows its age...those same scars reflect its character. Age speaks with the voice of authority and says...”You can trust me”. Age has been there, done that and lived through it. Age has heard it all...probably more than once. And it has learned what to believe, what to hold dear and what really matters. Age can teach and for its own good...New had better listen.
Friday, September 4, 2009
"Come home when the street lights come on." Does anybody say that any more? Does anybody do that anymore? Years ago…many years ago…It was the universal signal for all young cowboys, indians, cops. robbers and future Mickey Mantles to call it a day. "Come home when the street lights come on." It’s one of the original Baby Boomerisms. Long before drive-by shootings and dirty bombs…Enron and Gen X …networking and email…the Taliban and AIDS…9/11 and crack. "Come home when the street lights come on." It was the simple command of parents who felt that when night fell…there was no good reason for you to be out running around in it. You couldn’t see the baseball…It was too dark to figure out who was "It"…The hiding and the seeking got a little scary…and Mom and Dad wanted to know you were safe, sound and in the house before they settled down for an evening with Ed Sullivan, Lucy or the Beav. You know…maybe that’s one of the problems with this world today. Not enough parents told their kids to…"Come home when the street lights come on."