Asa and the Strange Night Star

So, the keeper of tales began the telling. There's a tale gets told once every go around, he began. It gets told when the bone knockin' wind sweeps the shivers down the valley. And the snow clouds hang low in the freezed up sky. The tale tells about a boy called Asa who lived far long ago or far long ahead… nobody knows for sure. If it come from far long ago, rememberin’ after rememberin’ brought it along. If it come from far long ahead though, one of us would have had to wander on up there and fetch it back so’s we could tell it. Not sure how that might have worked, but for now, let's get back the tellin’ it part. Now, Asa’s nightly doin’s was to watch the family sheep because that's what young boys’ nightly doin’s was back then or it's what they will be doin’ far long ahead. But I’m getting either behind myself or ahead of myself… not sure which is which. Anyway, when the sun went down Asa would find a high ground spot for the best watchin’. And sword in hand, he'd start eyein’ the hills as they grew darker in the long shadowed sunset, watchin’ for those woolly wolves. Asa was a brave one ya see. He’d be making sure that they didn't make gobbledyburgers out of his sheep. Mostly though he just fell asleep. Which was okay, because the sheep never did wander very far and folks hadn't seen the woolly wolf around these parts in more go arounds than you could ever remember goin’ around. Which is probably why they let a young boy’s nightly doin’s be watchin’ the sheep in the first place. Now, if this be a once upon a time tale, this would be the once upon a time part. Once upon a time…one cold, clear, moon bright night… now I think it was a Friday, but it might'a been a Tuesday, Asa was just settin’ in to do some serious woolly wolf watchin’ for. And he was just about asleep when out of the corner of one very sleepy eye, he thought he saw one of them stars up there brighten up a bit. Then he thought he saw it move a little closer. So Asa, bein’ a finder outer by nature, opened his other sleepy eye. Yep…that's what it was doing for sure. Getting brighter and moving closer. He'd never seen a star do that before. Until now, they'd all just stayed up there in the sky doing star stuff. Now, it might've been a fearsome sight if it hadn't been such a pretty one. And it got Asa’s curiosity waked up, yes sir, and he right then and there knew he had some findin’ out to do. Now, that star just kept gettin’ brighter and movin’ closer. And Asa just got curiouser and curiouser. It finally came to a stop over the lights coming from a little town he could see way off in the valley. What's going on here he thought…this be a very strange star indeed and he was fixin’ to find out what its business was. So with a quick look around for woolly wolves, sword in hand Asa, the brave and curious, set out toward that little town… and that strange wanderin’ star. Now, Asa walked and walked and walked and walked and walked into the cold, clear, moon bright night. You know, now that I pondered it a bit, I do believe it was a Monday. Anyway…he walked over the hills, through the valleys, along the river, under the trees and around the rocks. And finally he came around a bend in the trail and there it was… and IT wasn't much. Now as little towns go, on the list of not much, I’m pretty sure you’d find this one low on the page. It be more like a village...a small village...a teeny small village. It had a few houses, what look like an old Inn, a couple of barns out back, a small one and a teeny small one, five chickens, two goats, a well used donkey, an old cow and a strange night star sittin’ right up there over the teeny small barn. Now the odd thing was…no…ONE of the odd things was, cause there was a lot of odd goin’s on goin’ on this night...the old Inn seemed to be full of folks. And it was way too many folks for this little patch of dirt. As Asa got closer to the old Inn he could hear folks talkin’ about a countin’ that was going on. A census he heard...whatever that was. And whatever that was the folks didn’t seem too pleased with the particulars. Some was even arguin’ about whose room was whose. Seemed they were short a few. Asa got to wonderin’ why they needed so many folks to do the countin’ anyway. Looking around this place he figured he could do all the countin’ needed usin’ just two hands and one foot. And he only needed one finger to count how many strange night stars there were sittin’ right up there over teeny small barns on this night. Another odd thing was that none of them countin’ folks seemed to take notice of that strange night star at all. They just kept gripe talkin’ about that countin’ stuff. But Asa saw it…burning bright above the teeny small barn. And he hurried out back of the Inn to find out what strange goin’s on was goin’ on. The teeny small barn door was open a teeny small bit. The boy could see a lantern light spillin’ out from inside. The wind blowed flame was making the nighttime shadows dance all around kinda spooky like. He peeked in with one eye keepin’ most of hisself back behind the door. Through the dancing shadows he could make out two sheep, another donkey…a little newer and not so well used, a man and a young woman who seemed to be most interested in a feed trough. Now, he'd seen a lot of feed troughs before and truth be told none were really that interestin’. But somethin’ about this one sure had their notice. He opened the teeny small barn door teeny bit more to get a little better looksee. It was when he kicked over the feed bucket that they got the notion he was there. Just about that same time Asa, the brave and curious, turned into Asa, the holey moley what am I gonna do now. But the man smiled a kindly smile and the young woman's dark brown eyes seemed to be sayin’ come on over for a better looksee. So, Asa, the brave and curious, once again...did. And Lordy, Lordy what a looksee he got! It was a baby! A teeny tiny, itsy-bitsy fresh born baby boy all swaddled up in a feed trough...that he was looking at. And that all swaddled up, fresh born baby boy in the feed trough was looking right back at him. Asa moved close. This baby boy's eyes had a knowin’ in them that he had never seen before in any eyes...young, old or fresh born. Eyes that knew the deep downs of a soul. Eyes that said...been here before and will be here again. He was drawn closer… he was pulled closer… He felt he was on the edge and he wanted to fall deep into those eyes. He was about to get lost in those eyes and he right away had the knowin’ in his bones it was going to be a terrible, wonderful lost. He tried to close his eyes, he tried to look away, but he couldn't do nothin’ ‘cept be right where he was. And the curiouser thing was that he knew in his bones that it was okay to be right where he was. But right where he was wasn't no teeny small barn anymore. Where he was was deep inside what this baby boy alone had knowin’s of. Fact was though, where he was wasn't even where he was. Part of Asa’s self was somewhere else... somewhere up...and lookin’ down he could see his other self still down there smiling at that fresh born baby boy. All of a sudden he could feel his other self up above being lifted up even higher on the wind of a thousand wings. Higher and higher…faster and faster…scootin’ like a hoot owl through the star bright, night sky. A sound fillin’ his ears like a thundering waterfall. It was then that he realized that while he probably should be…he had no scared feelin’s at all. It was also then he started seeing strange and terrible and wonderful things...and he started gettin’ over the not bein’ scared part right quick. Out of the darkness, one after the other visions started crashing at his feet like ocean waves crash upon a shore. The colors and sounds of those visions poured over him like a baptisin’. Visions of the babe as a man...the man as a babe. Shadows droppin’ nets to follow. Shadows pickin’ up clubs and swords to end it. Visions of the tellin’ of a tale of sundown and sunrise. Asa watched as thirty three go arounds crashed at his feet. The blind man could looksee and the lame man took to walkin’. Love, hate, fear and hope and mystery danced like nightime lantern shadows across the face of a man child. A skeleton tree turned itself into a dark, jagged cross. There be a garden of tears and a terrible crown of thorns. Tears of blood fell from the face of a King. A mother's heart was breakin’. In the wink of an eye higher and higher…faster and faster…stopped. Everything went quiet...like the world was waitin’ and holdin’ its breath. The end was the beginning. A stone slowly rolled itself away from the mouth of a cave. And then, out of the darkness, an angel took one of Asa’s hands and a wounded hand gently reached out to take his other. A price was goin’ to be paid. A gift was goin’ to be given. Asa waked up like he'd been bad dreamin’. He sat up with a start tryin’ to figure out just what the wherefores and whys of what seemed all scrambled up in his head were. He looked around and quickly figured out he wasn't where he used to be at all. Wherever that was or wasn’t. His whole self was together again and he found it back on a high ground watchin’ spot surrounded by his sheep. Who by the way, had not wondered very far and had not ended up gobbledyburgers for any woolly wolves. He jumped up and did a quick looksee back towards that little town. The strange night star was gone. He rubbed his eyes and peeked again just to make sure he was wasn’t seein’ what he wasn’t seein’. Gone. A dream Asa? A nightmare...a prayer? Yes...maybe. Asa didn’t know...or maybe...just maybe...at that one moment, he was the only one in the world other than a fresh born baby boy...who did. So, the keeper of tales began the telling. There's a tale gets told once every go around, he began. It gets told when the bone knockin' wind sweeps the shivers down the valley. And the snow clouds hang low in the freezed up sky. A tale that hasn’t ended...yet.

Can't Wait To See Christmas

Putting up the Christmas decorations last weekend got me thinking back to a post I did several years ago. It went something like this.---My daughter went off to college this year. Two hours away from home. I talk to her often, but I miss her dearly. Just before her Christmas break this year she called one night. She wanted to make sure the lights were up, the tree was decorated and the mantle and bookcases were filled with our collections of snowmen and Santas. Because...she said, “I can’t wait to come home and see Christmas.” Such a simple sentence. "I can’t wait to come home and see Christmas." I looked around the house. The snowmen and Santas were all in place. The lights outside twinkling. All the ornaments were on the tree...including the felt Christmas tree with her picture on it that she made in second grade. "I can’t wait to come home and see Christmas." I can’t begin to tell you the feeling in my heart when I realized that to my daughter...Christmas is...home. It’s right here waiting for you sweetheart. And it always will be.

Giving Thanks

Happy Thanksgiving. Thank you for squirrels and pine trees and autumn colors and Altoid Smalls wintergreen mints. Thank you for computers except when they decide to reformat my work mid-document. Thank you for snow…and 4-wheel drive. Thank you for meatloaf and pistachios. Thank you for first steps and last dances. Thank you for pumpkin ice cream and Christmas trees. Thank you for the time I had with my Dad and the time I still have with my Mom. Thank you for music. And the ability to make it. Thank you for words and being able to put them together in ways that can move a heart or give a smile. Thank you for Josh and Andy and Jaime. Thank you for my beautiful Amelia and Bella. Thank you for my best guys Brady and Brennan. Thank you for and to my wife. Thank you for the joys and sorrows of this life I get to live. Thank you for the chance to try again tomorrow.

A Good Idea

For Terry...and his dining room light fixture adventure! Been there. Yeah my wife thought it would be a good idea to put a new light fixture in the dining room too. My wife has a lot of good ideas. Yep...really good ideas. Should be an easy little job...right? Take about an hour or so and voila...let there be new light. Unless you’re like me and feel that everything on the other side of a switch should be left to highly trained professionals. But c’mon...it’s a little light fixture. How hard can it be? So, I stared at it for about an hour trying to answer that very question. Then I put in a call to the Governor to see about shutting down the power on this side of the state or at least the city. No luck. Out of excuses, I shut off every circuit breaker in the house and went to work by flashlight. OK...connect black to black...white to white...ground to ground...and for God’s sake don’t let anything touch anything! I turned the breakers back on, evacuated the area, said a quick prayer to the patron saint of light fixtures...and flicked the switch via broom handle from the next room. Thank God nothing blew up. Now my wife is talking about replacing a faucet. My wife has a lot of good ideas. Yep...really good ideas.

My Email Friends

Now, I know email has been around for quite awhile now, but it still amazes me. Communication with anyone…across the globe…instantly. I think the thing I find most exciting about the email world is the fact that through this magic…you meet the nicest people. You really do. Just yesterday I got an email from this guy, who I don’t even know mind you, that wanted to put a thousand dollars in my checking account within 24 hours. What a guy! And then there was the gentleman the other day who wanted to introduce me to lonely housewives. How incredibly thoughtful! He made it sound like there must be a lot of these ladies out there who need someone to talk to. There’s even a guy in Africa who wants to give me two million dollars…TWO MILLION…just for letting him use my bank account to help him keep his poor deceased uncle’s eleven million dollars away from the evil dictator and out of Africa. Talk about generous! And then there’s the group of doctors…well, I think they’re doctors… who want to increase my manhood by two to four inches. I’m 5’11” as it is though and while I truly appreciate the thought, I think I’m tall enough. Am I meeting the nicest people or what?! And all I have to do is open my email.

They Just Wanted To Know

For our veterans...in spite of our congress. They called his name again. Like they did back then. They called him to serve again. Like they did back then. So, he rose from the place where he had fallen so many, many years ago. He was a plumber, who became a soldier, who became a leader. And on that frozen, splintered morning in the woods of Bastogne…he gave his life fighting to hold the line. They held the line. At such a horrible cost they held the line. They called his name again. One last mission…one last duty. So, he rose from the place where he had fallen so many, many years ago. His uniform dirty and bloodied. One last mission…one last duty. This was for them. For all those heroes who stood with him through that nightmare that was Bastogne. For all those heroes that fell with him in that hellstorm that was Bastogne. They just wanted to know. So, he stood before the chosen ones in his dirty, bloodied uniform. The President, the senators, the congressional representatives, the judges, the lobbyists, the CEOs and the talk show hosts. He watched and he listened because they just wanted to know. His brothers in arms wanted to know what all those people were doing with what they had been given on that frozen, splintered morning in the woods of Bastogne. With his heart breaking he turned to go back and tell his brothers what he had seen. They will be so disappointed.

Words of Advice

OK…just a couple of things that I think a couple of you guys should think about. Just a little advice and it’s for your own good. To all my squirrel, raccoon, chipmunk and opossum friends out there, there is nothing you need on the other side of the road. Same stuff as this side…trust me. The acorns aren’t any sweeter, the babes are not any better looking, there’s no need to make the trip. And not making the unneeded trip reduces your smooshability factor geometrically. And to all my deer buds, not sure if you realize this or not, but those “Deer Crossing” signs are not meant for you. They do not mean that this is the ideal spot to safely cross the highway. What they do mean is that this is the ideal spot to cross the highway if you’re looking for an intimate affair with the front bumper of a Buick. And to my wild turkey friends…the birds not the bourbon lovers... you are supposed to be the smartest and most elusive of the game birds. Why then do I see you just hangin’ out, in plain sight, with those other turkeys in that corner field every morning? That is not being smart or elusive…that’s being dinner. I hope you guys will consider my words in the spirit they were given. See, I like you guys. I really do. And I’d just hate to see you get smooshed or seasoned so close to the Holidays.

Back in Town

So, I hear you’re back in town. You haven’t crossed my mind in years, but now I hear you’re back. Curious. I remember our first…hmmm…how should I put this…encounter? Yeah…encounter. A serious situation always calls for serious word usage. What was I…3 maybe 4…when I first became aware of your nightly presence? Sometimes under the bed…sometimes in the closet…always pretty spooky. Never really saw you, but I knew you were there…waiting. The rules were pretty clear though. No feet or hands hanging over the edge of the bed. I wasn’t going to give you the chance to grab anything buster! And as long as the covers were over my head…I was safe. Covers made the bed “Under the Bed and Closet Monster” proof. No quite sure how that worked, but thank God it did. I’m sure millions of children have been saved by the “Covers” rule. You went away for quite a while, but returned to your usual hiding places when my own kids were little. Forcing me once again to invoke the “Covers” rule and nightly “Under the Bed and Closet Monster” reconnaissance patrols. And now you’re back once again. This time you’re trying to mess with my grandkids. So, let’s get something very, very clear here Bud. The “Covers” rule and nightly “Under the Bed and Closet Monster” reconnaissance patrols are still very much in place. This time though there is something else you should be very aware of and I want you to ask yourself this…punk. Are you feeling lucky? Because this time…you’re messing with a Grandpa!

Slanted Rays and Colored Days

I've been asked to repeat this...again. Thanks for asking----Fall will be here soon. Arriving with her many colors like bright burning embers of summer’s dying fire. Beautiful, but brief. Marking the cooling of the air...the lowering of the clouds...and the coming of Winter’s silver blue. The slanted rays and colored days, as Lightfoot put it, stir many emotions. There’s a certain sadness about a lonely chevron of wild geese in the distant sky. And the rattle of dry leaves on shivering, skeleton trees. Night falls sooner and seems a shade darker. It’s a bittersweet time of memories...loves lost and found and old friends and family past and gone. For me...I know I miss my Dad more in the Fall. I do love the Fall though. Sweater weather and nightly fires in the fireplace. For all the endings Fall brings it’s also such a gateway of promise and good times. Soon will come the little ghosts and goblins of Halloween. The warmth and good cheer of Thanksgiving. The magic of Christmas. The hope of a brand New Year. Fall...the bright burning embers of Summer’s dying fire. The season of what might have been. The season of what could be.

Halloween Wind

It’s a Halloween wind that blows tonight. Can you feel it? Warm and sweet, but with just the slightest touch of frost around the edges. It’s the kind of wind that gently rattles drying leaves on soon to be skeleton trees. It’s the kind of wind that lifts outbound geese in chevron flight and drives the clouds low across a fiery sunset sky. It’s a Halloween wind that blows tonight. It’s the kind of wind that makes the evening shadows dance and the critters nervous. It’s a wind that whispers that a change is coming. Get ready. It’s a wind that whirls the mist around a gnarly old oak as easily as it does a faded memory around a lonely heart. It’s a Halloween wind that blows tonight. Soon the witching season will be here and restless spirits will once again take flight under the ghostly cast of a harvest moon. It’s a Halloween wind that blows tonight. Can you feel it?

When Age Speaks

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.

On My Birthday

Most of us have an image in our heads of what we think we look like. This HD picture of what we think other people see when they look at us. Well...most of us are wrong. Believe me...this conclusion is from first hand experience. See, my image of me...my head picture...is that of a mature, dashing, athletic, rugged man of the world. That's me. That's even the guy I see in the bathroom mirror. Then I was handed a photo recently taken of my oldest son and I. "Isn't this a nice shot?", my wife said. I was stunned. Who the heck is that balding, graying, overweight, old guy standing next to my kid? What cruel practical joke is this? That guy can't be me. My hair may be thinning, but that guy in the picture is damn near bald. I'm mature...that guy's looking old. I'm athletic...that guy in the picture actually has jowls and a belly. Hey, only old, English character actors have jowls and bellies. Alright...jokes over. Who is this guy and what have you done with my kid's Dad?

Slanted Rays and Colored Days

I've been asked to repeat this. Thanks for asking----Fall will be here soon. Arriving with her many colors like bright burning embers of summer’s dying fire. Beautiful, but brief. Marking the cooling of the air...the lowering of the clouds...and the coming of Winter’s silver blue. The slanted rays and colored days, as Lightfoot put it, stir many emotions. There’s a certain sadness about a lonely chevron of wild geese in the distant sky. And the rattle of dry leaves on shivering, skeleton trees. Night falls sooner and seems a shade darker. It’s a bittersweet time of memories...loves lost and found and old friends and family past and gone. For me...I know I miss my Dad more in the Fall. I do love the Fall though. Sweater weather and nightly fires in the fireplace. For all the endings Fall brings it’s also such a gateway of promise and good times. Soon will come the little ghosts and goblins of Halloween. The warmth and good cheer of Thanksgiving. The magic of Christmas. The hope of a brand New Year. Fall...the bright burning embers of Summer’s dying fire. The season of what might have been. The season of what could be.

Honor

These days, in this “I’m getting mine, you’re on your own” world we have created... where is our Honor? And what are we teaching our children about being Honorable? In the little opportunities we have every day to show that we are Honorable people...do we? These days being in front, having the most, winning at any cost and getting our way seem to be much more important than telling the truth, doing the right thing, giving someone a hand up or letting someone else’s better idea...be the better idea. Where is our Honor? Simple words...Please...Thank You ...Excuse Me...are Honorable words. When is the last time you heard one? Honor is showing respect for ourselves and others. Honor is doing what’s right even when no one is watching. Honor can be shown and more importantly...taught...in the smallest of ways. What are we teaching our children? Where is our Honor?

Another Time

Time…another summer sunrise…another tick, tick, tick of a sprinkler…another muggy sunset…another rainstorm…another rainbow…another Autumn leaf…another scary ghost…another little goblin…another put the shorts away…another Saturday with the storm windows…another paper turkey made from tracing a child’s hand…another Thank You…another silver bell…another “Tis the season”…another Inn with no room…another silver blue, frozen sky…another bone chilling ice wind…another first breath of Spring…another very brave little crocus…another get out the shorts again…Time. Seasons pass one after another, after another. There will come a time though, when there won’t be…another time. Think about it.

Silent Night...Don't Think So

Our dog Tucker woke me up in the middle of the night last night. Seems he had to go visit his favorite tree in the backyard. It was a nice night, so I stayed out with him, enjoying the silence. Until I realized that it wasn’t being a silent night at all. In fact, it was pretty darn noisy. I could hear the rumble of trucks rolling down the expressway in the distance. The haunting wail of a siren off somewhere in the darkness. Far off car horns every few seconds. The sound of a red eye leaving a vapor trail across the moon. The world doesn’t sleep anymore does it? Used to be when the sun would set...the world would settle in for the night. The street lights would come on and day was done. Not any more. Now, all over town, you can get fries with that at three AM. You can do your grocery shopping, banking, pick up your dry cleaning...gamble your paycheck away even in the wee hours. And with the internet...earth is open for business 24/7. Thumbs are texting...IMs are M-ing...you can buy a plane ticket or new underpants or watch Jimmy Stewart sing Buffalo Gals...all by the late night light of the moon. That not so silent night got me thinking. I don’t believe the world is getting enough sleep. I'm pretty sure that’s why it’s so cranky.

Old Friends

Tonight I think I’ll build a fire and spend a little time with a few of my memories. Oh, I won’t linger long. There’s too much future to get to. Too many new memories to make. The old ones though are so very special. And every once in awhile they need a little tending to. They need to be taken from the shelf, dusted off and shined up a little. Memories are the landmarks of our lives. They tell us where we’ve been and how we became what we are. The good ones are treasures...the bad ones hopefully teachers. They are pictures, places, people, smells, sights and sounds that take us back to places in time past. Time gone forever. So, they are precious. Some short as a wink...some long as a loved one’s lifetime. But they all need to be given great care though, because you just never know when you might need one to remind you that someone or something or somewhere along your road...meant something very special. So, tonight I think I’ll build a fire and spend a little time with a few old friends.

Don't Let Go

My son is teaching my granddaughter to ride her first two-wheeler. Brought back a thought I had awhile ago. 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.

When You Teach Your Son...

It's sad that this ancient saying rings more true than ever these days...When you teach your son, you also teach your son’s son. Unfortunately, in so many cases...it’s so true. I think that’s why it’s so difficult for us to break the chains of bigotry, intolerance and the distrust born of ignorance. When the next generation is taught to hate and fear...the generation after that is being taught the same thing...at the same time. And so on and so on. And while we can change the laws...we have the fight of our lives on our hands to change...the hearts. It takes incredible courage for a son or a daughter to step away from a parent's words. To question that authority. We are moving forward in our humanity, but it’s a painfully slow process. Because it has to happen one courageous young heart at a time. When you teach your son, you also teach your son’s son. Let’s pray that at least a few of our sons and daughters will gather the courage to think for themselves.

Hey, How Are You?

What if everyone who said...”Hey, how are you?”...really wanted to know. It would be a different world wouldn’t it? “Not bad.”...could no longer be the standard response if the asker really cared about the askee. The askee would sense the sincerity and be obligated to give an answer like, "Truthfully Bob, I've been a little out of sorts lately." There would be follow up questions. “Are you getting enough sleep?”..“Are you regular?”..."Sit and tell me all about it." People would be late for work because of time spent discussing in detail with a caring asker, the little gas problem, probably from those frozen burrito supremos, that kept waking them up during the night. And that's not to mention the non health related “Hey, how are you?” “Well, since you’ve asked, I’m quite concerned about Float Quoted Market Values actually.” An arm would be thrown over a shoulder...a caring hug...there are emotions to be shared here. Maybe it would be nice though. Someone asking "Hey, how are you?"...actually cared and really wanted to know. But then again, too many extended outpourings about chronic heat rashes, hours of shared concerns over Indicative Calculated Closing Prices and the time spent listening to all that heartfelt advice about home pricing in a volatile real estate market just might tend to slow down the national economy. In the end, it’s probably better that we’re the shallow, superficial society that we are. “Hey, how are you?” “Not bad.” And that’s it. We get a lot more done this way.

From Dad

As I heard myself say, “When are the kids coming over?” I suddenly had a very strange thought. The kids…are all in their thirties. The kids…have kids. The kids finished college years ago. Two of the kids have Master’s degrees. The kids have traveled the world. They own their own homes…and I still call them the kids. "They’re not the kids any more are they?" my brain asked. Well…it was my heart that answered…"Yes they are"…they’re MY kids. And always will be. My oldest is a father now with two beautiful little girl kids of his own. But I can still remember the blond haired, blue eyed little boy who used to hold my hand and kiss me good night. He’s still my kid. My youngest son has a Master’s degree and lives in Chicago now. But once, at a three year old’s birthday party at Chucky Cheese, said costumed rodent scared the bejesus out of said three year old. I can still see the pizza and pop scattering in every direction as he scrambled across the table to get to the safety of Daddy’s arms. I’m still the Daddy. He’s still my kid. And my youngest kid…my daughter…a Mom to two little boys of her own. A teacher and a holder of a Master’s degree in Education. But there are times when I can still see the same little angel who used to fall asleep on my shoulder in that old rocking chair. She’s still my angel. She’s still my kid. So yeah…for as many years as I have left I guess I’ll always be asking, “When are the kids coming over?” because they’ll always be…my kids.

For My Dad On Father's Day

19 years ago I lost my hero. At the time though, I didn’t know how much of a hero he would become to me. It’s been mostly during the years since he’s been gone that I’ve slowly discovered how much he had really taught me about the responsibilities being a man…of being a father…of being able to love…and being able to be loved. Mostly by just watching him live. 19 years ago…I lost my Dad. Now, he wasn’t the smartest man I ever met…or the most creative…or a spinner of great yarns…or teller of great jokes. Those are all good things to be though and I admire those efforts. My Dad’s mission in life however, was not to be a great man among men. His mission in life was to be a great man among…me. And that he did. He accomplished that in my eyes by doing what I believe was sacred to him. He did it by always trying to do the right thing…in any situation…no matter how hard…no matter what the cost. Sure, he fell short sometimes, but he always tried. That was how he lived his life. And I think he hoped his life lessons would teach me to try to do the same. I know I’ve let him down more than once…but I’m trying Dad…I’m trying. 19 years ago I lost my hero. I’ve never told anyone this, but late in the evening of the day my Dad died I was standing alone in the dining room of my home looking out the window at a very dark, night sky. I remember saying to myself, “I just need to know you’re OK Dad, I just need to know you’re OK”. At that very moment a shooting star lit up a corner of that very dark, night sky. I saw another shooting star tonight. I’m still trying Dad…still trying.

Bugs

Bugs...Hmmm...Now that the weather is breaking they’re everywhere aren’t they? Bugs...They come in all shapes and sizes. You’ve got your hard ones and soft ones...big ones and little ones...your crawlie ones, flying ones, hopping ones and some that do all of the aforementioned activities. Some bite, some sting and some just buzz around your ears at night while you slap yourself silly trying to send them to bug heaven. Wouldn’t it be interesting to sit down over a cup of coffee with the Big Guy himself and ask...”So, just what did you have in mind here with the Bug thing?” Maybe He just had a bunch of leftover spare parts and nothing to do one afternoon. Or maybe He just couldn’t pass up a great buy on legs and anntenae at heaven’s dollar discount warehouse. Or maybe He looked down and thought...”You people really bug me sometimes...Hmmm...bug...now there’s an idea”. Or maybe...we’ll just never know the reason for our...Bugs. So, maybe it’s just live and let live. On the other hand...s’cuse me while I go whack that fly.

Trust Me On This One

I saw this amzing phenomenon again this morning. Brought back to mind this oldie. There it is. Standing there so straight, tall and proud. Right in the middle of a newly mown lawn. You've seen it too. That one, lone dandylion. And it's not a new dandylion...it's an old, geezer dandylion. It's white, fuzzy head about to send its seeds to frustrate lawn manacurers for miles around. Now we've all seen that dandylion and I'm sure we've all wondered, albiet briefly, how in the world did the lawn mower miss that guy? Well, I think I've figured it out. I believe it's an amazing Darwinian mutation happening right before our very lawn mowers. A Natural Selection that probably began happening thousands of years ago when Neaderthal first began mowing his lawn. Maybe it's the sound of the mower engine...or the vibration...or the whoosh of the mower blade that warns them. Whatever it is, just before that blade takes its little dandylion head off...it ducks. That's right my friend. Dandylions can duck. How else can you possibly explain that one, tall, proud, geezer dandylion sticking its fuzzy head up in the middle of a newly mown lawn? Oh yeah...Dandylions can duck. Trust me.

A Well Written Page

His eyes were still a bright blue. Curious eyes…but tired eyes. Eyes that have opened wide in wonder, looked on with great pride, searched for many an answer and wept in heartbroken sorrow. Eyes that have in younger days winked at more than one pretty young girl and in later years given looks that have discouraged more than one young child from committing any further mischief. His face was tanned and deeply lined from thousands of sunny days, smiles and the worries that only a father knows and quietly bears. Laugh lines from more good times than he can remember…crow’s feet from searching so many dark nights to catch a glimpse of a child getting home safely…a furrowed brow from years of wondering why…and how…and what really was the right thing do? And did he do it? There’s a line from a song that was written back in the 1800’s called “Maggie”. It says, “My face is a well written page Maggie, and time alone was the pen”. I can only hope that when the time comes, my page reads well.

I Asked For Your Hand

I asked for your hand...you gave me so much more. I asked for your hand, you gave me your opinion. Something I’ve found most valuable...most of the time. I asked for your hand, you gave me your curiosity. Sometimes a very “curious” curiosity I must say. I asked for your hand, you gave me your common sense. Most uncommon these days. I asked for your hand, you gave me your dreams. I know I’ve let you down on more than one of those. I asked for your hand, you gave me your trust. You gave me your faith. You gave me your...well...we’ll talk about those later. You gave me the chance to be the father to your children and the Grandpa to your grandkids. I owe a big thank you there. I asked for your hand, you gave me my best friend...my hope...my strength...my rock. You gave me the chance to be loved and the once in a lifetime opportunity to love you. I asked for your hand...you gave me so much more. I asked for your hand...you gave me your life.

VIPs

This oldie is dedicated to the VIP in the Porshe Cayenne I shared the road with this morning----I met some really important people the other day. Well, I can’t actually say I met them, but I did watch them as they sailed by a bunch of us good citizens waiting our turn in one of those lane ends construction areas. You know...you see one of those lane ends up ahead signs and you pull over and wait your turn to go through like everybody else...except the really important people. I mean they must be really important...because they can’t wait in line like the rest of us. They go right to the front and force their way in. I figure they do this because they have much more important places to go and much more important people to see than the rest of us. Their time must be much more valuable than ours. Yep...that must be what it is. I mean...you don’t think they could just be arrogant, thoughtless and rude do you? Nooo...they can’t just be inconsiderate jerks...can they? They must be much more important than you and I. I must confess to being a very bad person though. Because when I finally do get to the front of the line and there’s a very important person trying to get in front of me...I don’t let ‘em in. Screw ‘em. Terrible aren’t I?

Tiny Hands

Here’s to tiny hands...curious hands...sticky hands. Hands whose tiny fingers poke and point and smoosh and stick their little selves in places we won’t dig into, so to speak, here. Hands that can cling to the tiniest piece of sacred blankie satin with great precision, while pouring what’s left of the Cheerios into, under and around the dog’s dish. Here’s to tiny hands that only want to color with permanent markers. They know the difference. They really do. Here’s to tiny hands that love Mommy polished nails and plastic tea cup parties. Here’s to tiny hands that love mud and trucks and drums made out of an empty coffee can and two old sticks. Here’s to tiny hands that love to wrap fancy feather boas around tiny necks and put Mom’s fancy heels on tiny feet and try to dance. Here’s to tiny hands...curious hands...sticky hands that I will try to hold in mine forever and have to let go of too soon. Please stay tiny just a bit longer...for Grandpa.

Hey Spring

Hey Spring...this is what I’m talking about. C’mon...you can do it. Looks like you’re getting your act together and startin’ to kick a little ice around here. Keep it coming. Turn it up to warm and get those daffodil heads poking up through the tundra. And hey there Mr. Red, Red Robin…we are ready for some full time bobbin’ around here. Even though Old Man Winter really showed his age this time around, it’s still been too brown and gray and window closed and all cooped up for too long. We need you to start getting on with the greenery. C’mon Spring...you can do it. Flex your crocuses and give the cold, old geezer a good swift kick in his frozen pants. And tell him not to let the garden gate hit him in the icicles as he heads north. Turn up the thermostat Spring and let the T-shirts begin. It’s tulip time. C’mon...you can do it. Get the sap running and the grass growing. It’s time to smell the lilacs and slap some mosquitoes. C’mon spring you can do it. Get out there...put up your dukes...and give the North Wind the old what for. This is what I’m talking about. Don’t turn back…don’t give up now…don’t turn into some kind of…Pansy.

Extra Large!

Ok…I’m getting a little older…and I guess you could say I’m getting a little rounder, but when did I get to be “Extra Large”? That’s the size shirts I have to buy these days. Now, I’ll admit I’m not the svelte, lean, dashing stud I was a few years ago. OK…quite a few years ago, but “Extra Large”?! Is there anyone out there making clothes in regular old sizes for anyone over the age of twenty something? Don’t they know the world is not entirely populated by under shaved, underweight young squirts with spiked up hair who fit comfortably in cute little foreign cars slightly bigger that my sneakers? Everywhere I look I’m seeing “Skinny Jeans”, “Athletic Fit”, “Slim Cut”…I’m not seeing “Older Guy Chunky” or “A Little More Room In The Butt Cut” or shirts with those new and improved “Go Ahead and Breath” buttons. And if I’m “Extra Large”, what size do the guys that I consider to be “Extra Large” have to buy… “Double X X Tent and Awning”? May I suggest a couple of new sizes that would not be an insult to my maturity? How about “Grandpa Cut”? I could live with that. Or “Distinguished Fit”? That’s got a nice ring to it. “Extra Large”…I don’t think so.

Today

Today, someone who will make a difference in this world will be born. Today, someone who made a difference in this world will die. Today, a child will take a first step…say a first word. Today, a marriage will end. Today, someone will fall in love. Today, someone will pull a trigger. Today, thank God, someone won’t. Someone will finally laugh and someone will finally cry. A heart will break, a heart will heal. Someone will think today is incredibly boring. Someone will think today is the best day of their life. Someone will decide that this is the day. Someone can’t wait for this day to be over. Today, someone will try something for the first time. Today, someone will do something for the last time. Today it will begin. Today it will end. Today, someone will get a chance. Today, someone will waste a chance. Have a nice day…today.

Shake It Off

Let’s shake off the winter wearies like we would a tattered old coat. Let’s welcome back the sunshine from its long winter’s nap and open the windows to let in the tick, tick, tick of a springtime sprinkler and the sound of a ballgame drifting across the backyards from a radio on someone’s deck. It’s time to lower our shoulders from the tensions of the silver shivers and raise our eyes from the frozen sidewalks to watch a sweet breeze blow clouds around a bright blue sky. Let’s get on with this season of unclenching and leave winter’s baggage behind. Let’s get on with doing a little spring cleaning of the heart and soul so that we’ll have room for some fresh thoughts and new ideas. Let’s shake off the winter wearies like a tattered old coat. The gift of another time around has been given to all of us. All the cold and dark has melted away. All roads are open to us now. This is the season to choose one...and see where it leads.

Shake It Off

Let’s shake off the winter wearies like we would a tattered old coat. Let’s welcome back the sunshine from its long winter’s nap and open the windows to let in the tick, tick, tick of a springtime sprinkler and the sound of a ballgame drifting across the backyards from a radio on someone’s deck. It’s time to lower our shoulders from the tensions of the silver shivers and raise our eyes from the frozen sidewalks to watch a sweet breeze blow clouds around a bright blue sky. Let’s get on with this season of unclenching and leave winter’s baggage behind. Let’s get on with doing a little spring cleaning of the heart and soul so that we’ll have room for some fresh thoughts and new ideas. Let’s shake off the winter wearies like a tattered old coat. The gift of another time around has been given to all of us. All the cold and dark has melted away. All roads are open to us now. This is the season to choose one...and see where it leads.

I Used To Ride Horses

I used to ride horses. I used to fly airplanes. I used to make music in the mountains. I used to do a lot of things I don’t do much anymore. And that’s OK. Time and distance…responsibility and age have opened other roads that I’ve chosen to take. Do I miss the things I used to do? Sure. Am I happy I followed those other roads? Absolutely. I used to be a young man with a young man’s dreams…and energy. I used to take in the pleasure, take in the adventure and take in the excitement. My yesterdays were full of taking. Little did I know at the time, the taking was filling my life up for the giving I can do today. Giving back whatever wisdom I have taken in. Sharing lessons learned and experience gained. Providing answers for a question or two. Maybe opening other roads for today’s young folks. Once I was a sail moving fast and free…now I hope I’ve become an anchor…strong and steady. I used to ride horses. I used to fly airplanes. I used to make music in the mountains. Other roads led me to other places. These days the music I make is with my grandkids…in the den. They dance…and how sweet the sound still is.

The Promise

I saw them today. Just barely there, but I saw them. They’re kind of like a promise aren’t they? Those tender, new green shoots poking their heads up through the frozen February ground. They're the promise that it’ll be over soon. This grey, shivering shroud of winter will soon be lifting. Giving way to bluer skies and the feel of warm sunshine on bare skin. Soon the earth will be green again and those dirty, grey mounds of snow ice will be just a melted memory. The promise of Spring. The promise of renewal. A world coming to life again after a cold Winter’s coma. They are a promise aren’t they? Those tender, new green shoots struggling up through the frozen February ground. They are a promise...or maybe they’re just really stupid plants that are about to freeze their buds off.

Miscellaneous

Excuse me while I kind of run all over the place for a minute. Not sure what this means, but the very same week I saw the garden store nursery sign that said...”Get your grave blanket now”...I found out I could win a free cremation just by filling out a form for more information. Is someone not telling me something here? Watching the evening news the other night it struck me that every ad was for something to fix something that is starting to fall apart on us baby boomers. If your erectile is dysfunctioning, your dentures don’t fit quite right, your catheter is getting a little irritating, there’s less M in your BM and/or your stair climbing talent is fading, just watch the evening news. Fix you right up! Did you know that drowsiness is a side effect of a very well known sleeping aid? Says so right in the advertisement. With all the talk about not texting while driving, I’m really beginning to see the effects. I see people every day now going down the road texting and not driving at all. My mother told me about a woman in her senior living facility that was having a tough time with this whole daylight savings time thing. Mom was reminding her to put her clock ahead one hour that night. The woman gave a big sigh and told Mom how hard it was for her to stay up until two in the morning to do that. Mom smiled and said, “You can set your clock ahead when you go to bed at your usual time Sweetie.” The woman patted my Mom’s hand knowingly and said, “Oh no Dear, I don’t think it works like that”.

Something From Nothing

Consider this if you would. I think I might be on to something. I’m thinking that nothing...might really be something. Really. It has a name right? And you just don’t go around naming things that aren’t...do you? So why would someone name something like nothing if it wasn’t anything. And here’s more proof. When you ask someone “Hey what are you doing” and they answer, “Nothing...just watching TV”...well?? I’m just sayin’. And now that I’m thinking about it, when someone does something really nice for you and you say, “Thanks” and they say, “Oh, it was nothing”...Wow. Nothing may not only be something, it may be something pretty special. And how many times have you heard someone say, “There’s nothing there” and sure enough, there it is right in front of them...nothing. It has been used in literature throughout the ages. In the written word it’s called a space. Nothing...sitting there between every word. There’s even a number for nothing. It’s called a zero. And it’s used all the time by whiz kid smart guys who obviously think nothing is something and have even given it its own number. So, I’m pretty sure nothing might really be something. And I think I need say nothing more.

I'll Bet They Had a Party...

I had the chance to go down that old country road again the other day. It's where I first saw what was left of the old barn I wrote about a few years ago. It's finally gone now. From the road no trace can be seen anymore. So, here's to an old barn...one last time.------You can hardly see it from the road. The old barn. Or rather what’s left of the old barn. A crumbling skeleton fading away in some forgotten field of someone’s long ago dreams. A year or two from now I’ll walk down this road again and it’ll be gone. I’ll bet they had a party when they raised her though. A lifetime or two or three ago it was some farmer’s pride and joy. Built by the hands of family, friends and neighbors. It was shelter from the storms of summer and the snows of winter. It was storage for the harvest. It knew the sound of a fiddle and the laughter of Saturday night barn dances. And it was probably a big, old playhouse for more than a few generations of children. I wonder how many guilty young boys waited in it for a dreaded appointment with Father’s hickory switch? I wonder how many young lovers secretly met behind it for a moonlight smooch? I wonder how many stories it could tell? Well, only a few beams and part of a sunken roof remain today. And it won’t be long before the old barn’s not even a memory. I’ll bet they had a party when they raised her though.

Christmas Past

A oldie, but I think still a goodie. Well…Christmas time is over this year. All the outside decorations are looking a little windblown and tattered. The bows along the fence are all a little crooked and the garland is sagging a bit. And a few of the twinkling lights don't seem to have any twinks left this year. As I walk past the tree I can hear the sound of dry needles tinkling as they dance on decorations while heading to the floor. It's time to once again wrap baby Jesus up in tissue paper along with Mary, Joseph, three sheep, two camels, a donkey and two of the three wise men we have left in this old nativity scene and put them in the box marked living room. All the Santas and Snowmen come off the mantle and the last of the pistachios is gone. I'll vacuum up the fallen needles and fill the house one last time the smell of Christmas tree. It's time to move into this New Year and see what it holds. It's time to put the magic away for a while…but only for a while. See, it's only 11 1/2 months until Christmas.

The Chances

Here they come. The chances. The chances every New Year brings. Those moments in time when we are given a choice to make…a chance to take. The chance to do something different or in some cases the chance to just do something. The chance to try…or try again. The chance to learn. The chance to love or to allow ourselves to be loved. The chance to say yes…the chance to say no. The chance to step in a new direction or just take a step…in any direction. The chance to try to mend some of the damage that we’ve done or forgive the damage done to us. The chance to believe in something or the chance to play it safe and take no chances. Every chance we are given comes with a price. We will all have to decide just how much we are willing to pay. So, here they come. The chances. The opportunities we will be given this New Year to take a chance, make a choice…make a difference. What are you going to do with yours? I guess that’s the chance you take.