As If Underwater: Moments With My Father

I have begun working on a tentative new body of work based on my experiences caring for my father, who had a stroke a little more than a year ago. The entries, persistent little voices in my head who seem to want to be written, whisper quietly, haltingly. At first I wasn't sure what to do with them. Am I writing a memoir? Am I writing a "how to" guide? Am I simply stumbling through experience, grasping at moments like pebbles along my way? Either way, my experiences 10 years or so back sharing my feelings about getting a divorce, have taught me that sometimes simply sharing your own voice, even if it is simply saying "this is hard," can be a great comfort for others going through the same thing. I can hope for no better for this blog than to accomplish that same result.

As If Underwater: No. 1: There are human experiences that can't be written. You are sitting next to a huge koi pond with a fountain. That noise, not quite "babblin...

Open Letter of Apology to My Writing Group

I'm doing the best I can . .. . but the wrong muse is calling . .. .lol.

Slide show of a photo project a very long time in the dreaming and just two days in the making.

Personal Photo Project

"The Red Means"

Yesterday I had the blues.  Actually I was descending towards what Truman Capote's character, Holly Golightly, would call "the red means."  Why?  Too much negative self introspection?  Absolutely.  Too much reminiscing over the sadder moments of my life?  Can I get an amen to that?  But mostly I had one of those moments where, like that sharp pain you get under your ribcage from too much exertion, I knew I had missed out.   To be fair my mood had already darkened before I listened to one of my dearest friends in the world convey knowledge he gained from having a daughter and I was introduced to the notion of yet another thing I missed out on by not having children.

Even as I actively pursued "not having children" - because while the notion courted me, I found merit and actively followed that path - I knew I would live a different life from many people.  I knew I could never claim the immortality of a healthy, vibrant family tree branching out into a future I couldn't hope to live to see.  My heart always ached a little to know I would never hold a tiny hand in my hand or feel the unconditional or unquestioning love of a toddler, while I breathed a sigh of relief that I would never know the distain of a teenager.

My father once had a story he told about friends of friends.  Apparently they had an unexpected windfall and were questioning whether they should spend the money towards adopting a child or buying a new car.  Everyone in my family rolled their eyes in exasperation and said, "Well, if you have to ask ..."  **sneer**  "buy the new car."

I bought the new car.  I took the vacations.   Most of the time, I never looked back.

Until two days ago when I listened to a single parent speak with passion of the things he has learned.  The selfless wisdom that comes only from having had a child.  And I knew I had missed out.  There was an entire wing of knowledge in the library of life from which I had detoured myself away.

Sometimes the bitch slap of what you already should have realized stinging your face can shock.

I spent the day irritable, on edge, ready to cry at a simple change in the breeze.  Until this morning.  You see this morning, I remembered something.  It is the reason Christians have the saying, "Whenever God shuts a door, he opens a window."  We tend to look at our choices as black and white, right or wrong creatures.   Just recently while watching "Celebrity Rehab" - yes I occasionally watch very schlocky television - I watched Sean Young tear her hair out over losing a part in the movie, "Batman."  After asking who had eventually won the part, the counselor sagely asked, "and how has her career been lately?"

We look at all these choices as things that will make or break us.   "I could have been somebody.  I could have been a contender."  If only I . .. .. . got married, had kids, inhaled, didn't inhale, went to college . . . well, you get the point.  The truth is they are more like the Robert Frost poem, "Two roads diverged in a yellow wood ......"  While sometimes you may return to visit the unchosen path, choosing a path very likely means sights on that other path that you will never see.  Sometimes you will find yourself a continent away and no longer will even remember what words to program into Mapquest to find those unchosen detours.  Sometimes, strangled by indecision, you will forget that not choosing a path is actually a choice in itself.  One that leads to conclusions and outcomes just as surely as consciously choosing would have done.  Sometimes you will despair that what you chose led you to what seem to be inconsequential victories, like learning how to play a mean game of Pinochle; while the choices of other people around you seem to have led them to sainthood.

I suppose the trick is to remember to be as kind to yourself as you would be to others and try to appreciate the things you DID learn.  Most of all, remember.  It is just a road you have chosen to walk upon.  You can always change directions and choose another path.  Of course, do so too often and you may find yourself walking in circles, never arriving anywhere, but even that probably has merits only those travelers can truly see and appreciate.  Because, best of all, all of the journeys have wondrous things to see and learn for those whose eyes and hearts aren't afraid to be open.

Perspective

When I was five or six years old, I went to a public pool for the first time. I didn't go unsupervised, but my direct supervision was loose. Loose enough that, after talking with other kids my age, I was convinced into jumping off the diving board into the deep end of the pool and no adult intervened and stopped me. I don't remember feeling any fear. I do remember hitting the water and sinking under. I remember bobbing to the surface three times only to slip back under three times. I remember being rescued by a lifeguard. I remember being ordered to stay at the shallow end of the pool. I remember spending the rest of the day there, alone.

It seems to me all of the different highlights of your life can be charted, like points on a map or a model of our solar system. The points remain stationary, separated by dates and time, but your perspective changes depending on where you have moved along the map. At different times in my life, I have reflected on that swimming pool story and focused on my lack of supervision or painted the other kids as "the bad guys." For a long time, the story was my excuse for being an uncertain swimmer or "a little uncomfortable" in the water. Nowadays, my focus is that little girl who jumped off the diving board. It would be easy for me to dismiss her as an idiot, but instead I see someone who was fearless: literally "fear less." That little girl had such a positive outlook on the world she heard not even a whisper of the possibility of negative outcome. Nowadays, I want to climb into that little girl's head and see just a glimpse of the world through her eyes.

Four or five years later, a completely different little girl, I had a poster above my bed. It had a single seagull in flight and read "Hold fast to your dreams, for if dreams die, life is a broken winged bird that cannot fly." I did not know at the time the words were taken from a Langston Hughes poem and he was not credited on the poster. By this time, I was so familiar with the possibility of a negative outcome I think the image of "a broken winged bird" was what I identified with most in the words. I don't remember how long the poster hung there, but I know I never went into my room without giving it at least a glance.

I was reminded of the other little girl, the fearless one, just today when I listened to the 21-year-old caregiver assigned to my father tell me her dreams in life and then systematically, one by one, tell me why she couldn't achieve them. I should say here: the dreams were only sketches, not definite, concrete plans detailing what she wanted and the obstacles were noted as somewhat temporary, transitory blockades. Nothing was set in stone. But nothing voiced any confidence in a positive outcome either, and as I drove home, I wondered why it is that we do that? Why do we voice a dream, if only silently, secretly to ourselves, and then shoot it down so utterly and completely? Is it because we reach a saturation point where others have shot us down often enough a need emerges just to get it over with before they get the chance to do it again? Is our need for recognition or agreement so strong that we will freely ridicule ourselves simply to be part of the crowd? After all, across the internet on Facebook and Twitter, you can watch the world bitch and moan about it being Monday and breathe a sigh of relief when it is Friday. Misery does love company.

I'm not sure what the polar opposite of misery is. Success? Happiness? Whatever it is, the first little girl had it in abundance and I'm pretty sure she had it in common with a lot of people we hold up as role models or wish we had lives like theirs. I think the only thing they have she didn't have was a little bit of knowledge. She hadn't learned yet some things don't just come naturally to you, they have to be learned. She lacked experience and a little bit of perspective, but the rest of it she had right.

Sometimes, whether the crowd is with you or not, you just need to get on the diving board and step off . .. ..

Baycon 2011

Baycon 2011, a set on Flickr.

Random photos and unedited video from Baycon 2011

RIP Mark Haines - I will miss you

I will always remember Mark Haines as one of the few individuals on television who, just when I was thinking "I wish someone would speak up about fill-in-the-blank," actually did speak up about just that.  He made me laugh, he gave me hope that not everyone on television was a marketing automaton, and I will miss him.

Below is a link to Forbes' Eric Jackson excellent blog entry "Why Mark Haines was Special."

http://blogs.forbes.com/ericjackson/2011/05/25/why-mark-haines-was-special/

"Be The Change You Want To See In The World"

In any given time, there are numerous platitudes peppering the white noise of our lives.  They come from religious leaders, philosophers, famous athletes, song titles and all sorts of popular culture sources.  They shift from the ones in vogue in your parent's lifetimes to the ones that are sick in your children's.  What doesn't change is why they are there.  Like metaphorical Burma Shave signs, they hang out hoping the viewer will take action.  Most of the time, other than a small laugh or acknowledgement of a saying's "correctness;" we don't take action.  Most of the time, in fact, we do the exact opposite.

Consider:

"That which doesn't kill you only makes you stronger"
"Don't worry, be happy"
"When life gives you lemons, make lemonade"
"Time heals all wounds"
"Be the change you want to see in the world"
"Success is the best revenge"

How many times have you watched someone cling to one of those, almost like a life raft, only to need it once again just a short time later?  If they actually work; if they actually have power; should we need to repeat them again and again like a meditative mantra?

It's because we simply pay lip service to the platitude and focus on the problem that led us to the saying in the first place.  Whatever unhappiness, inadequacy, pain, suffering, lack - whatever unpleasant truth we have encountered; we clutch it to our bosoms and keep it alive much like an addict who promises himself he will seek help:  tomorrow.  Instead of embracing life and fighting for our happiness, we revel in sad songs, complaining about nearly everything and no matter how many bumper sticker self help sayings we know, we secretly believe this IS the best it can be.  Most of us are so negative that we don't even recognize it when we speak it.

So how about this?

Whatever platitude is currently stalking you, whispering to your subconscious for you to take action; why not follow the advice?   Just like we know that if we actually DO floss, it is better for your teeth.  Your mouth feels better, your breath smells better and your teeth last longer.  So what if an apple a day actually does make you "healthy, wealthy and wise?"  What if all of your combined suffering actually has made you like Captain America in a crisis?  What if the pain you feel from the boyfriend who dumped you really won't even be a blip on your radar next year?

Think about it.

If you knew that everything will work itself out and this too shall pass; if you really knew it like it had already happened; would you bother wasting your time grousing about it today?

Hell no.  You'd go out and enjoy the beautiful day with a song in your heart and a smile on your face.

So why not?

Go out into the beautiful day with a smile on your face.

I'm going to.

Of course, the platitude that has been dogging my footsteps?

"Be the change you want to see in the world . . . . "