Life Fact #419: Mentor is a Temp Job

For once, I'm hesitant to project my own feelings or actions upon you the audience or reader of this humble musing. During your perusal of this missive should you find yourself slighted by my archetype, chalk it up to my own mental peculiarities and feel assured it was never my intention to include you in my projection and you have my apologies. For those of us who make it until the end, may we find that grain upon which another pearl will be created.

Mentors play a key role in all of our lives. I imagine the mentor is an off-shoot of a natural behavior we learn as children. The process whereby we ask one parent a question and get an answer that doesn't satisfy us and we seek out the other parent or grand parent, aunt, uncle, etc. The basic second opinion. Just to be clear, I'm not speaking of a child asking permission and using parents against each other to get what they want. Rather, something along the lines of, "Mom, why is the sky blue?" "Honey, the sky is blue because God made it that way." For my own part, this is where i went and asked my grandfather. "Papa, why is the sky blue?" Ever the photographer, he spoke of the sun being a yellow light and the atmosphere of the earth acting as a light filter, filtering out harmful solar rays leaving the sky the color we perceive to be blue. The real answer is a little more complicated, but it was on my level and a very satisfactory answer at the time. He was one of my first Mentors. Here is where the hyperbolic side of me wants to proclaim him the greatest, but i think that would only cheapen all of them. They each fulfilled as they did and that isn't something to be measured.
As time ticks away in life mentors come and go. Some we move away from , some move away from us and others leave this world behind for the next. My best visual analogy would be something along the lines of; our mentors place the cobblestones along our byway.
Now that I've reached what some like to call middle age and my children are all grown and gone, I like to think of myself as being the mentor. I'd like to think I'm handing out sage advice in the grand tradition of it all. I have arrived. Well, that's what I had thought until recently.
I had a nice phone call with my Dad in which he said something very puzzling. I'd rather fall on my sword than misquote him, just know it went something like this. One of his friends whom he'd known for many years died recently and he referred to this man, who is only a few years older than he, as a Mentor. My brain was spinning so fast after he said that i nearly got a nose bleed when it stopped and stopped it did. It was a jarring sudden train wreck kind of stop. What happened you ask?? Well, it absolutely turned everything I knew or believed i knew about mentoring on its head. How could someone in their seventies have a mentor? It's really quite simple, there's always a bigger fish.
With this revelation, I sat back and reevaluated what I knew a mentor to be. After days of reflection, the answer became so painfully obvious I had to give myself a timeout.
The first thing I needed to do was to come up with a better, more complete definition for mentor. I checked the American Heritage Dictionary and a couple of others. Their collective idea of mentor was as woefully incomplete as my own. After days of reflection, i have settled on a mentor as anyone or anything which lends sound advice either through words or actions. Yes! This does sound like everyone is a mentor at one time or another and to that I say, "Aren't they?" Though for the purposes of this I have amended my definition to include the phrase, "and those you seek out for same."
At my present age of Fifty Three-ish, the cast of characters I call on for advice is limited to about three. My best friend, a well grounded and very conservative man of comparable age has yet to fail to show me the other side of whatever it is I naturally see. An old friend, Rob, (I'm pretty sure he's the first Vulcan on Earth) has a innate talent for logical thought and seeing situations in the abstract. Then there is the first mentor, my mother. She had the ability to organically change peoples perception of their work and ultimately change their point of view. In effect, she'd get you to see your work with two sets of eyes. It's a tremendous skill to master. One, as yet, I have not. Unfortunately, she has joined those who've left this world behind. As with all mentors, some of her remains perpetuated by those previously advised.
I got a call from a young man whom I've known for some time. He needed to talk for a while. I could hear the distress in his voice when he said something very peculiar, "...at my age I should have all the answers." I told him that was just silly as I'm twice his age and don't have all the answers. I had him take a couple of deep breaths before I asked what the biggest problem was for which his answer was simple, "My bills," he said. I asked him if he could pay them today and the answer was no. He said with his new job, he should be able to make all of his bills just fine, but it's taking too long. I offered that he might set that feeling aside until payday and take his bills one at a time and not stress over them between this day and that.  He reminded me the bills would still be there and I asked him if he wanted to make everyone else in his house feel the way he does. His answer was, "of course not." This is when I let him on to that little secret, when you are grumpy, you'll make everyone you are around grumpy also. Well, either that or the others will choose to stay away from you. I had him give me a few examples where his reaction to things had affected others in a similar way to his: both positive and negative. He did. Then he told me he never realized his irritation with the progress in his life would affect his home life. He thanked me and had to leave for work. His spirits were better, but I told him it would take lots of practice before his demeanor would automatically lay down his irritations.
I have to thank my dad for opening me up to the possibility that you never outgrow the need for a mentor. Our mentors tend to be those closest to us. and in closing, they can be of any age. The day after I discovered my dad had a mentor in his eighties, I discovered I have a mentor under the age of....well let's just say she's not old enough to drive. She taught me the importance of putting your M and M's in alphabetical order. This is more important than you know. I miss my mom, am thankful for my dad, and love my niece.

Until I write again, Peace Be With You,
Dave

Boys and Their Fathers

     By this point in history, we've all heard the expression "It's like herding cats!" I can tell you from experience this phrase is relative to the "Cats" you are trying to herd!!!
     When it comes to these "Cats", The Shadow, The Jedi, and The Hulk; picture taking is prime-time sports! There were about a dozen taken in total and this is the best one. I love these guys, but damn they are singularly a handful; together they are a three ring show!
     The oldest brother stopped by for a couple of days. The youngest brother is getting married in a few weeks and the oldest isn't able to attend. So, as a consolation, he stopped in for a visit. It was a great joy having my three boys together. Like many of you whom have adult children. I stand in awe of them. They share such great familiarity and yet are so uniquely themselves. One feverishly claws back the layers on the bleeding edge of his career while another is engaged in mortal combat to find the top of the ladder by brute force all the while attempting to help everyone along the way (best of luck with that there Dude), and the other simply endures the modern age while struggling to come to grips with having been born five hundred years too late; as I said, "They are unique!" Despite their individual peculiarities, It's a comfort to know they're all really good guys. One might even say it's sort of a family tradition. One that may have skipped a generation?? At least for my own part. I can't say whether I am or not. I am certain you could easily find people with an opinion in both camps. Well??? Anyway, let me move forward by backing up a bit. Earlier this year through the miracle of modern science, I discovered the identity of my Biological Father. (An Aside: just looking at the term Biological Father. It's so clinical, formal, denuded of emotion. Somehow, it just doesn't seem fair though generally correct.)
     He's an interesting Cuss. I say this with the utmost respect and admiration. Perhaps Cuss isn't the best Nom De Gerre for him. There's always Rascal, Cheeky, Comical, Driven, Focused, Unique, ah hell, how about Dad. He's Dad. In the months since our discovery we've met up a few times for meals and visits. In short, meeting him has exceeded any expectations I could have held. He's married to a wondrous creature who I'm sure was created in a mad scientists secret lab somewhere. She is wicked! Wicked smart, wicked funny, etc... She's just Wickedly Awesome! Then again, she agreed to marry him, so he must have something going for him. Perhaps, he's simply a more experienced Cat. Yep, that's my father in a nutshell.
     Fifty-Three years is a long time to wait to meet your father. It doesn't take a PhD in Gerontology to know, statistically speaking, more water has passed under the bridge than there is left to pass; on this trip. It would be too easy for me and my mental quirks to feel incredibly sorry for myself. Hell, who knows, maybe I should, but I don't. I can't. There is absolutely nothing to be retrieved. All we have is the road ahead. Honestly, I'm really looking forward to it. I do have one confession to make. He does more in one day than I do in a week. If I ever had to follow him around I'd need to see if Elon Musk makes electric roller skates. Seriously, there is no grass growing under his feet.

     For those of you who have known me all of my life, this picture may give you pause. Take a good look. No, it's not me. It's my Father at about twenty. Freaky Huh!? If you thought it was me, you are not alone. I shared this picture, which I've been sitting on for a few months, with a select few of my "near and dear". Without exception, they couldn't place where this was taken. The reason is because they had assumed it was me. There was one exception; my favorite Aunt. Then again, she's her own brand of Wicked. If you get something past her, mark you calendar because you've done something. I will admit, there is a likeness, but i was never that thin. Okay, maybe I was, but the Army took care of that. Then again, there were three heat injuries that helped as well. Perhaps even a few Cheeseburgers too!!!
     One day not too long after we first met I got a call from him and he asked me if I wanted to get together for lunch in Dallas. I sat up straight and said, "yes sir, you bet." I figured he had some sort of business dealings in Dallas and he was squeezing me in between work functions, so I was "Johnny on the spot" at the Denny's where we decided to meet. He had previously told me that he would be unavailable for about a month. I was pretty excited that he had made time to grab lunch. We ate and talked and just visited in general. I told him I had gotten in trouble with Donna for not getting a picture of the two of us the first time we had lunch together and wasn't going to face her wrath on that subject again. He said he had no problem with a picture so I handed over my phone to an employee and what resulted was our first picture together. Even though, we are back lit and it makes it hard to see us, it's one of my favorite pics of all time.
     Remember when I told you about my Father in a nutshell above, spare me a couple more minutes and you'll find out how he became my Dad. I had assumed he was in Dallas for business and that it was luck or clever scheduling which afforded us this lunch. What would you say if I told you he drove up from Houston to  Dallas just to have lunch with me. Hold up a minute. We talk on the phone regularly, we share bad text messages (predictive text can make anyone illiterate), and he drove to Dallas and back for the sole purpose of taking me to lunch. "Boys and their Fathers!"

He drove up a Father and drove home a Dad.



Until I write again, Peace be with you!!!
Dave

My DNA Story, After 35 Years and Change, has Reached a Fork in the Road.

 The course of my life has been an ever churning torrent of rise and recede. Carving great canyons like the Rio Grande of home. A singular life, witness to: wonders and horrors, experience and innocence, rain and shine. No matter the circumstance this life is mine and strangely enough, i'm pretty damn good with that. 
Like many of you, i jumped out of the nest the instant I thought I had feathers. I had plans. For years I watched those plans fall by the wayside. Largely, they were fanciful dreams never really meant to be applicable in the modern world. Seriously, how was I ever going to play trumpet for Ed Shaughnessy and Doc Severinsen on The Tonight Show?? (I had to look up the spelling of one of those words. On the up side, it wasn't Ed.) Then there was my perverse desire to study giant squid with Jacques Cousteau. Me, a Desert Rat from West Texas.......not bloody likely. Finally, there is the thesis of this opus, finding my biological Father. Again one of those fanciful dreams, until Genealogical DNA testing went mainstream.

Back in February (2018) I bought a DNA kit from Family Tree for the Family Finder and a moderate Y DNA kit. I thought if I were going to search the databases, i'd want to use the narrowest possible criteria going in and could widen my search results from there. I uploaded my raw DNA file to GEDmatch.com and compared with even more people (see the previous two entries for the complete story). There were something in the neighborhood of 78 Thousand cousins on the GEDmatch list from Second Cousin to God only knows how to calculate the relationship. But, as I alluded to in my last posting there was one person at the top of my match chart with a remarkable amount of shared DNA. In fact, He was a perfect half match to me. Just for the tally sheet that would be 3487cM (Centimorgans) That's a Parent/Child match.

I'm going to call him, Mr Y! Now for the most important question, how old is (Oh yeah, present tense, he's very much still alive) Mr Y?? I'll tell you I nearly passed out when I discovered he is not in his 20's or 30s. He's at just the right age for a Father. Well, for a Father with an adult child in their early 50's anyway. At this moment, I needed a minute or two to wrap my head around the impossibility of things. So, I walked away from my computer and just mentally gnawed on that gristle all night.
The next day I ran a utility program to determine whether or not my raw file had been corrupted and it turned out to be a bit noisy, but well within guidelines.
I compared Mr Y to known relatives and my X matches and there were zero commonalities. Okay, so he's a new and stand alone entity. What to do now? Research. Can I put him and my mother in the same location at the same time. This turned out to be the easiest step of the process. He went to college in the same town Mom went to high school. Ultimately, I discovered they both went to that same high school and had a class together.

 There was never a question as to whether to contact him or not it was simply how. The Database had an email address for him, so ding dong there ya go. Now, I studied English Composition at the University of North Texas and have had training in how to write for nearly any occasion or purpose. Writing to contact a Father from an unknown child, weirdly enough, slipped by the curriculum committee when they were deciding on what was important to teach. I sent an email loosely styled on an obituary. I did my very best to use soft pleasant words that alluded to a close genetic match and so on and so forth, sent it, and waited about a week.
During this time, I forgot the first rule of writing and that is know your audience. Every day that went by without a reply was grueling. Why wouldn't he answer? Then my crazy started kicking in. What if he had died and noone had updated the website at his job? What if he thinks this is an internet hoax or scam? What if he's batshit crazy too and just refuses to reply. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. On day six, I sent him another email. This time it was styled on an Arnold Schwarzenegger action film character birthday greeting. Sort of?? 

The main concern for me, now that I had found Mr Y was that I really wanted to know if there were any medical conditions which ran in his family. It's wasn't long after I sent the second email and BING!!! I got a reply. simply enough, he wanted to know who my mother was and what color my hair was when i was a baby/kid. Additionally he wanted to know where I lived. I obliged and said that my grandmother had always said I was "Toe Headed". I think that's how you spell it, I've never looked it up. In the very next email he advised me that if I hadn't had a colonoscopy yet, I needed to go ahead and have that done. I'm not sure what I was looking for in an email, but that didn't exactly not count. and I said I would do just that knowing it to be a favorite of men everywhere!!!

This is the part of the story that gets more private. I'm not doing it to be mean, rather i'm doing it to be fair for all the other parties involved. I will say that since making initial contact Mr Y and I have shared a number of emails. This past weekend Mr and Mrs Y shared a marathon phone call with my domestic partner and myself. I will say a little about that call as I believe it germane to the greater thesis.
The call had a relaxed familiarity to it, even at times when it should have been awkward at best. As we talked, we discovered similarities in behavior and interest. So much so that I grew weary of Donna hitting me every time one came up. It was like being Indiana Jones at the end of a successful caper.

We plan to meet up with the Y's (Face to Face) in the near future. I, for one, am looking forward to it. I know the Domestic Partner is as well and so are the Y's. If you are reading this because you have questions about your ancestry, no matter the case, I say, stop waiting and get after it. Keep an open mind as nothing is ever how you picture it. That Indian Princess your grandpa's grandpa married might turn out to be Irish, and you won't be sitting around years from now wishing you had done it.

I genuinely have a fondness for The Y's as they are a matched set. I don't know how to compartmentalize this and am not about to try. I have found the rest of my family and i'm grateful. Many times I'm derided for my view of fair weather Christians and what Jimmy Buffett referred to as, "that thin line between Saturday night and Sunday morning." It is true, I am a confirmed Catholic, but i tend to lean more toward a Unitarian point of view. Toward that end, I do so thank God for this ever winding path, the family I have (old and brand spanking new), and all of you whom have touched my life along the way. I have found a peace I believed impossible.


Until I write again, Peace be with You!!!
Dave

I Have Valuable Time at 49

     I rounded another milestone last week. Birthdays! When you are young they seem like grand family occasions. It's the one day of the year when the collective attention is expended upon you. Cake. Ice Cream. Presents. Laughter and smiles, the soft underpinning of family galvanized around a central theme. Homespun magic.

     As time passes, these magical events change. For many of us, they morph into a ritual performed more for our children than ourselves. Honestly, I believe I enjoy those more than the ones of my childhood. 

     My children have grown past that point and are entering the phase where they are spending their own money and time to recognize my birthday. It's strangely new, but comfortable. How can any thinker not be fully aware this evolution happens. 

     Many years ago, my daughter and I had an occasion to discuss what would be the perfect birthday gift for me. Actually, it didn't start out that way. The best I can remember would be it started out with the formula for how much to spend on an engagement ring if you are a man. The answer to that, according to the diamond industry, would be where the value of the ring is equal to one months salary. That is when our conversation turned to how much money should a person spend on a parents birthday present. You know, as in what would be proper. The subjectivity of this truly is mind altering. I told her it really isn't about the amount of money you spend, rather being able to identify with the recipient and their likes, dislikes and desires. 

     Finally, we got to the real question. She wanted to know how much money my ideal birthday present would cost. I told her it wouldn't really cost any money at all. She didn't understand. How could the perfect birthday present for me cost nothing. I told her it just didn't. So naturally, she wanted to know what it was. I told her I couldn't tell her. Not that it's a secret or classified or salacious, it just happens to not cost any money. I told her in time she'd figure it out and that we'd both have a great laugh over it when she did. 

     You know, I've been around the sun forty nine times and it occurs to me, i inadvertently lied to her that day. I told her she'd figure it out and that we'd have a big laugh when she did. As many of you know, she's gone beyond this world. I think that is the very thesis of the chat she and I had that day. That chat. The fleeting moment between us that day was the best present. Truly, it's the best present any of us can ever receive. Those stolen, fleeting, cherished moments which color our lives. There is nothing more precious than time.

     I am haunted by time and its cherished moments. Though the moments yet to come gird me against any misery I may carry. 

     This year, my older son left me two bags of peanut butter M&M's, a rather large bottle of Lemon Tea and a handwritten note. The tea and candy, though i consumed them, meant nothing to me. Conversely, his handwritten note I placed in my Bible. It's only two lines long with a signature, but no platinum or gold could ever replace it.

     I received some really nice presents this year. Among them, an Immersion Circulator which I will use the hell out of.  Just less than 50% of my Facebook friends list clicked the little Happy Birthday alert. (I have to admit that I really love that!!!) Even more interesting is that 26% of the list chose to write a complete sentence. Those I really love. This speaks volumes for the people on that list.

     Finally my younger son, whom just finished High School, had no money and wanted to borrow some to go get me a present and probably a huge tub of coke from the quick shop down the street. I told him it wasn't necessary for him to spend money on me. I thanked him for recognizing my birthday and that was plenty. He said, "Well is there anything I can do for you?" You have to know this made me smile. I fixed us a couple of Dr. Peppers and we just sat at the table and talked for a good long while. We even got in a few rounds of dominos. There was my son: no phone, no headphones, no TV. Just he and I spending time together. 

     As you may have guessed it, that was my favorite present this year. He took time out of his world to spend some in mine. There is no truer gift I can imagine. My fervent prayer is that he, his brother, and all the rest of us come to realize the value of time. 

     Though it is a miracle to get a word in edgewise when talking to me at times; I understand the value. I know that long after that Immersion Circulator is all used up and gone, A few sentences online, A hand or two of Dominos, A handwritten note, or even a beloved conversation from the front porch possesses a value which will never dim. 

Until I write again, find your time and Peace be with you, D

Part Buffalo, All Dave

Nearly three years ago when we moved to Amarillo, i had it fixed in my head that once i returned to the Dallas area i'd get my Master's Degree. Well, i'm tired of waiting. Earlier this year, i applied to West Texas A&M to enter their Master's Program for English and was accepted. Kinda like, if you can tolerate us, then we'll tolerate you. A month or so later i met with a few of the faculty about a Graduate Assistantship. I haven't heard about that yet, but they won't get all charged up about that for a few more weeks. Providing i survive this evolution, i'll return home to The University of North Texas and their fabulous English Department for my Ph.D. But, that's a whole other show.

I'm really curious as to what school will be like. My earliest experiences with college happened at a small Division III school. I carried a "B" average and never bought a book. I tried this approach at North Texas and it being a Div. I school was an exercise in flawed thought. I remember my first semester there and my books, which i bought on the fourth class day, cost me $500.50 Dollars. You know i let out a mild gasp and the sales clerk didn't even seem to notice. That semester i had 15 novels for a utopic/dystopic literature class and 7 readers for an American fiction class. I'd never read that much in my life and doubt i have since. It was rough, but i learned a hell of a lot and that speaks volumes for the faculty there and like my favorite professor of all time "Haj" said, "you put some work into it too".

Well here's to putting some work back into it. Classes begin on August 26th, so i'm off to clear my head and find my pen. Sorry i haven't posted in so long, but i had a child graduate from high school and I swear i have less time now than i did before. I guess it is time for me to hang up my apron and get back to my stuff. It's just a little difficult shifting gears. Don't mind me, i'll find my feet rest assured.

Till i talk with you again, Peace Be With You, D

Bucket's Heading On

Today is May 6th. In Thirty-Three days, my older son will graduate from Tascosa High School. I'm not sure what I was expecting this time to be like, from Prom to Graduation, but this sure isn't it. I had visions of a generally happy time in which there would be several conversations about what the future might hold for him and how to get there. Boy, was I living in a bubble!
Now, I do know he is experiencing Senioritis and certainly has fears about leaving the nest. These i'd consider to be normal feelings for someone his age. The thing i hadn't counted on is the moodiness that goes with it. Don't get me wrong, I love my son, but i'd love to brain him with a two by and get his attention. I'm sure he'll survive the transition, but will i have any hair left by then is the question. I'm a little short on that already!
I know i do quite a bit of complaining, but all things considered he's a good kid. He's principled, chosen a noble career, and has a great work ethic. I realize things could be a lot worse.

As you might have guessed, he's going to be a Fireman, Firefighter, Calendar Guy, whatever your euphemism, you get the idea. And in case you are wondering, YES, his arms and chest are that big. 6' and a bit and 230lbs! I was going to attach the youtube video of him bench pressing what I weigh a couple times over, but it's not sticking tonight.  He's a gentle giant that will succeed or drive me crazy doing it.
This one is for you Bucket!!! I'm proud of you and I Love you, but i can still kick your ass anytime i want.
Until i visit with you again, May Peace Be With You,  D       a.k.a. Bucket's Dad

A Superhero In Search Of His Cape

I'm laying here with no particular thesis in mind. I seem to be stuck somewhere between "Ramble On" and "On The Road".  I assure you I am neither a Plant nor a Kerouac. I am a Truculent Grey-eyed fool playing my part on the grandest stage of all.
My elder son is a Senior in High School and will graduate in June. I have to admit, i'm a bit uneasy with the impending change looming on the horizon. In many ways, he's ready. Though, i can't help but worry about the choices he'll make in the early years after leaving the nest. He's a great kid and has chosen an honorable profession. One in which i think his demeanor and athleticism will serve him well; he'll be a Fireman. I guess it's still allowable to call them Firemen and not some super politically correct euphemism like, an onsite extrication, recovery, and incendiary containment specialist..
I believe, my shenanigans aside, i like Fireman the best!
Easy ladies, but here is a picture of the budding super hero.....

Growing up, as many of us know (though i don't really fit the description), is a perplexing time filled with wonder. As in, I wonder what i'll be when i grow up. Which has been the biggest challenge of my life to date.
I once asked my Grandfather, "Papa, how do you know what you'll be when you grow up?" To which he replied, "Many years from now you'll be cleaning out your desk for the last time and taking stuff home you've never taken before. At that moment, you'll look back and know what you were when you grew up."
You know, that was about all of the "what do you want to be when you grow up?" advice i ever remember getting. In the context of today, it's really not bad advice considering all of the people who work several jobs during their lifetime. For me, it wasn't that i didn't know what i wanted to be, rather it was that i wanted to be too many things; many of which were completely ridiculous. Now, i'm not talking about the run of the mill ridiculous like deciding at twenty to be a Rock Star or a "C" student who is weak in math that wants to be an Astronaut. (Guilty) What i'm talking about is something like; I want to be an Oceanographer! and the only ocean i'd seen was on TV. I still love Jacques Cousteau! Also from a tender age i wanted to be a Writer/Photographer. You say "That doesn't sound ridiculous". Well, let me tell you, i might as well have had aspirations of being the King of England. (More on that in a future post if i think about it.)
The point here is that when i was growing up we never talked about what we wanted to be when we grew up. I don't know if that led me to where i'm at today or if it were simply the choices i've made or a combination of the two. Be that as it may, I did talk to the boys about it. I asked them often and no matter how ridiculous their responses, at the time. I never beat them up about their choices. What i did do was to ask them how they applied to other jobs in the field. I always left them with a question. For instance: let's say they wanted to fry an egg. I'd ask them if frying an egg was all they wanted to do with it. I'd ask them if they'd like to make an omelette or possibly learn to make custard. The lesson here is about flexibility and being able to roll with the punches that life throws at us without becoming bitter and cynical.
In the short go, it has led to both of my guys knowing where they want to be ten years after graduation. Now, those of us with enough ground under our boots know that life has a way of steering you, but in the meantime they are both on a good course.
So, to tidy up the end of this visit i'll say that my little super hero will be attending EMT classes this Fall or the Fire Academy. Since he'll only be eighteen, there is a chance he won't be selected for the Fire Academy this year. Until he is though he'll be satisfying the other requirements for the job he seeks. I am proud of him, but in our Viking home it only counts when you cross the finish line.

Until we speak again, Peace be with You, Dave

A Simple Case of the Mully-Grubs

I took this picture in mid March of last year. I think it's appropriate for this posting as i am no longer all that enchanted with this winter. This lack of enchantment has me in a bit of a quandary.
For much of my life the winter months have meant sweaters and comfortable food with a splash of seasonal treats thrown in for good measure. This winter has seemed vacant and lonely. A desolate and barren plain without so much as a tumbleweed to break up the topography. I actually caught myself wondering why we ran the Indigenous Peoples off of this land.
Perhaps, i simply have a case of the seasonal mully-grubs. Something that will burn off at the first rays of springtime. It's a nice thought, but for whatever reason i can't seem to shake it. So, we do what we always do and that is to Soldier On!
I have, in my current state, been looking at all of my unfinished projects laying about again. I swear it wasn't six months ago when i last cleaned up all of the loose ends and yet, here i am again. I'd like to think that all creative type people end up with projects that end up being, shall we say...done on an installment basis?? I don't really know. Most all of my creative friends seem to move from one project to the next in this seamless stream of creativity. Boy! Not me! I often have four or five projects going at a time. Some fall out of the rotation as i begin other things and some actually do get finished with some sense of normalcy. I'd love to say that's the rule, but i'd be lying. I finish whichever project gets finished next. The only thing that trumps this is if there is a deadline or a need for something then i'll give it its due.
I did notice a couple of overnight bags i started last August or there abouts that need to be put together. I may clean off some room and put those together. Though, i think i quit working on them because i needed something for them i hadn't found yet. If that turns out to be true, i'll find something. I always do.
Well here's to the trees budding out, the grass greening up and the flowers being back in bloom. May my happy go lucky self return before they do.

Until we speak again, Peace be with You, D

Where Everybody Knows Your Name

Hello Friends. I haven't written in a couple of weeks and thought i probably should. I mean, it is the right thing to do, isn't it??
Take a look at the graphic on the left for a moment. Pictured are a pair of TVs; one a clunker with rabbit ears and the other a modern flat screen. Some days i am awestruck with the advancements made in the Tech Industry over the last thirty years. More on that in a moment.
When i was in third or fourth grade, the teacher would assign story cards to us. You'd drag your person out of your seat and pick one from this plastic file box, return to your seat, read it, and answer questions from the back of the card. (Lavender Chick and/or Painted Groove Girl may remember this practice) One day i drew a card that has stuck with me these last four years since... Okay it's been more than four, but you get the idea: It stuck with me. The card i drew was on the SST; which stood for Super Sonic Transport. It talked about airline passengers being able to fly at speeds greater than the speed of sound cutting down on travel time. It went so far as to say you could wake up in London and eat lunch in New York. It's funny, that "some day soon" story turned out to be the British Airways Concorde. The Concorde flew for nearly thirty years and today it's just a memory. In my life, it went from a possibility, to a reality, to obsolescence. Toward that end, Telecommunications has followed suit.
I have great memories of dialing four numbers to make a call.  My kids will never ever know what it's like to get a busy signal when you absolutely have to tell someone something and it can't wait. I guess texting killed the busy signal. The TV only had three channels in the daytime, but some nights we'd pick up the PBS Station. Two of the channels had bad reception in the early evening and required regular tweaking of the rabbit ears. I remember how grateful i was as a teen to catch either The Midnight Special or Don Kirchner's Rock Concert; both of which preceded the message thanking you for viewing, but this concludes our broadcast day. Naturally, this was followed by the National Anthem and that stupid Indian test pattern thing and that annoying 440hz tone. I'm guessing on the tone, it sounded like an A to me. Here again, my kids will never have to find something to do when the broadcast day ends. We don't have ends to the broadcast day anymore; we have outages. The greatest thing though, was the radio. We had some mixed genre station back then and made terrible jokes about it. However, if you were out and about after it got good and dark, you could get KOMA out of Oklahoma City. For some of us, it was the place where we learned the songs and the bands who recorded them. Many a night i sat up with my friends hanging out, doing what kids do, and listening to a whole different world than the one i was growing up in. My poor boys, they don't know what they've missed. Their equivalent is to program an SD card with music and pop it into the stereo in my car. It's convenient, but it's just not the same. Between the two of them i have seen a hundred little girlie friends run through, but not a mix tape between them. That innocent intimacy from making a girl a mix tape is lost forever. I can't even imagine what they do these days. Do they text a bunch of YouTube links to a girl they like?? So not the same.
I've run a little far afield and I'm going to redirect myself now. Back to Television where i had planned to write. In '97, i made a bet with one of my former boss' that wireless, most assuredly the cell system, would be the go to medium in twenty years for everything. Instant communications, video calling, and you'd be able to watch anything you wanted past or present at will simply by bringing it up on your TV. I have to admit, i was a bit optimistic, but are we not nearly there?? I'd say that instant communications and video calling are a done deal and being able to watch anything past or present is nearly there.
I have a smart TV that is a few years old and a smart phone that I'm hoping Santa does something about at Christmas. together, they nearly remove the laptop computer from my life. Between the three i am nearly always online and available which makes things interesting at times.
 I get Facebooked to death. Then there are the people that would rather text than just dial the number and have a chat (though I'm not sure dialing is the right term for making calls today), and i love my Netflix. I have spent my lunch time over the last three weeks watching the entire series of The X Files from start to finish. It was awesome. For the last week, it's been Ally McBeal and yes i have introduced my guys to Norm and Cliff from Cheers. I must admit, watching entire series like this gives the storyline a much more linear feel to it and i love it.
I guess when it's all said and done, my phone isn't bound by my house: my TV isn't bound by scheduling, my book is never overdue, i carry all of my music with me all the time, and the list is growing every day. What will the world look like in another thirty years. Only time will tell, but I'd really like to see a little more Gene Roddenberry in its implementation.

and on that note, i feel my usual closing is lacking so I'll proffer,
Live Long and Prosper, D