Tuesday, September 24, 2013
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.
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
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?
Friday, September 6, 2013
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.