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.