The Metaphor Storm

Doing my weekly yard work, my back was turned to the darkening clouds. The ominous rumble caught my attention.

As I look over my shoulder, the horizon was black with mottled gray edges. Flickers of death leaped from cloud to cloud. It could have been an alien invasion….

I debated my odds and priorities in whether or not to continue mowing. My mortality is more apparent.

30 years ago I would have kept on going. Immortal, brave and stupid at the same time.

The storm paused and stirred just beyond the edge of my domain. Building and deciding where to threaten next.

I gave up my plans. Like I had to do so many times these past few years. I knew this storm would pass. Just not a quickly as I wished. I learned patience.

The storm eventually did chase the sunset. I sat from the Safety of my porch to watch the clouds chase the sun into the night. The rays of light held on as long as possible until the trees and clouds filtered it out.

The rain fell slowly and quietly, with a faint glow of the retreating ball of burning gases. It was quite the light show.

The maples trees flipped their leaves over showing the undersides which reminded me back to my childhood. When we saw the silver parts of the foliage, it warned of something wicked coming. It was time to go home or seek shelter.

Once the storm exhausted itself, and the final minutes of sunset were visible again, everything was bathed in a beautiful warm amber glow.

I try to remember this simple sequence in my life. Know when to pause. Know when to retreat and know how to enjoy the calm after any storm.

Lightning and Thunder use to frighten me. Now I enjoy it, I appreciate the thirst of the land being quenched and given new life.

I have had my own personal storms, and waited them out. I sought shelter and emerged a little braver each time.

Bitter Tuesday

I’m starting a new tradition. To compliment “Throwback Thursdays” I’m starting “Bitter Tuesday”.

So if Monday doesn’t crush my soul enough, I will let it compile and build up into dismay 24 hours later.

I served my country for two decades. As each year that I am out passes, I become upset that the country I was supporting is not living up to the sacrifices of the men and women who served, spent time away from home…and some who died.

There were times we joked and half bitched about “I didn’t sign up for this.”

But like Richard Gere said in “An Officer and a Gentleman” when asked why he wouldn’t quit….

“…I have nowhere else to go.”

I took my oath seriously. They gave me purpose, training, responsibility, accountability and a life.

I assumed the leaders/politicians and other representatives would have done the same.

I guess greed, power, hidden agendas trump that. (You can spell trump with a capital T, and it would fit)

I can’t stand any of our political parties right now. The “good ones” aren’t in the news.

They are probably laying low actually doing their jobs. There is no news story there.

I am still amazed how so few can screw it up for so many.

We paint ourselves into these corners and fight so hard to deny it. Instead of just fessing up and trying to right the wrongs.

They only apologize AFTER being caught. Some deny it to their graves.

I don’t feel like celebrating our upcoming Independence Day…but I will only do so to honor those before me. And not the current Clown college.

I still pray and believe in the “Theory of America”….just not in the current application of it.

If I stand for the National Anthem…again it’s only for my brothers and sisters in uniform.

Maybe instead of placing my hand over my heart…I will cover my eyes praying for better and not bitter days.

The World Seems Darker Each Day

War, political turmoil, migrants left to die alongside a road…murder.

I read the news, not really expecting it to get better, but to see how someone will surpass the day before.

It seems that using a gun will quickly resolve it. (I’m not taking a pro or anti gun stance).

I know responsible gun owners and also people who shouldn’t run with scissors.

Road rage, religious differences, power grabs….betrayals, lovers quarrels and everything in-between.

I understand why some people literally escape to the mountains, or put up walls. Live on boats, on isolated islands. Too many people.

The bad stuff gets the headlines.

I will keep withdrawing into my damaged self. I’m tired and will await bedtime once again where I close my eyes and dream of better days, whether they lie ahead or behind.

Less Days Ahead, than behind

I know making it to 100 might be a pipe dream. Advances in medicine might make it possible.

But advances in how we trash our planet and bodies might negate that.

My family longevity is in my favor. Both parents made it past 85….grandfather hit 95….so that’s a little comforting.

I hope I’m mentally sharp when I get up there in birthdays, but my trend of getting forgetful is kind of frightening. Maybe God makes us senile so we don’t panic about death.

With my new passion for woodworking, there isn’t enough time in the day or weekends to fulfill that hunger.

I want to make sure I try in some way to make my remaining days count. To show my family how much I love them, to spend time with my children before they go out in the world.

I want to keep creating new things, and challenge myself in the process.

Maybe that’s why people who experience near-death experiences are changed for the better.

Kind of like…a Reset.

Un-friending the Dead

I’ve lost several friends in the last couple of years to various things.

I was also connected with them on Social Media.

Was.

In the initial days and weeks of losing them, their profile was flooded with posts and prayers for their family.

I just hope their family saw the messages as a source of comfort.

But at the end of the day, I highly doubt they get Facebook or Instagram in Heaven….or other planes of existence depending on your belief system.

Im not sure why I end up “unfriending” them, but I can’t hold onto to them in that…”format”.

I do keep them in my heart….so that has to count for something.

As I get older, my own perspective on life has changed. I am still slowly taking off my “everything is perfect” filters. This world grows a little darker each year.

Funny how I have become less “Social” as I post this on Social Media sharing my darkest memories and thoughts to strangers. But which are also kindred spirits in a way.

Growing up Gen X

With the recent news stories about entitlement, cancel culture…and lack of maturity….

I look back on my generation and the ones before me…

I was left to my own devices in my formative years. No cell phones, we made “plans” to meet at “A” between this time and that time.

The fallback meeting place was also set.

If all of this fell through. We just rolled with it and did our own thing.

When you lost at a game…or in life.
You still didn’t get a trophy.

You had two choices:

Try harder next time….

Or try something else that works.

I also learned that if we worked together and learned from what went right or what went wrong…we had a better chance.

I think if I came home at dark…or sometime thereafter…my parents were satisfied I survived another day.

If something trivial offended me, again I had two choices:

Ignore it.

Walk away from the source of the irritation.

If you are a Veteran..option 3 was to return the proverbial and sarcastic fire.
😜

(You don’t walk back into a burning building to argue with it to stop burning)

When my parents divorced…I could either be bitter, blame them for any future failures….or…..

Pick myself up and keep going.
Never looking back.
(You tend to walk into walls when looking over your shoulder constantly)

When it was time to “Adult”….several attempts to find direction failed.

I kept looking until I found “It”.

And finally, I learned that nothing good lasts forever. Sometimes you have to move on and discover the new thing.

But on the flip side, with say…marriage.

You can’t just begin and let it coast. You need to keep at it, tweak it, learn sacrifice and keep it thriving.

We are such imperfect creatures trying to adhere to so many pressures and demands that are getting impossible to obtain anymore….

Your trophy is being a somewhat decent and…happy human being.

My New Normal

This question was posed to me late at work yesterday.

“What’s you new normal?”

I really didn’t have an answer at the ready.

Life throws us wild pitches all the time. (As a lefty in baseball, I can attest to how much they hurt)

What we do next decides how we handle it.

Do we quit stepping back up to the plate? Do we quit the game altogether, or do we just pay closer attention and get a little better at ducking?

I always though I would grow up in Pennsylvania.

My parents would be together forever.

Some of my loved ones would have a long life.

My career would be the same one.

We would live in a country without fear of terrorism or health scares.

Some of those “wild pitches” really hurt and left a mark.

But I somehow went back up to bat.
Somehow.

Your new normal is what you make of it.

Who knows what the next hour, day, month or year will bring.

Stay in the game.

Like Mel Gibson in the movie “Signs” said:

“Swing away Merrill…”

Ethereal Calmness

In my calamitous mind, once in a rare moment…I find peace. I’m calm, and everything is right in the world.

It’s a fragile peace. A vocalist with an angelic range adds to this moment.

She soars and whispers notes that soothe my damaged soul.

She is an invisible siren, beckoning me to stay. Leave my world behind, drift off to sleep if possible. Dream of where everyone is still alive. Regrets and mistakes are forgiven.

Even on my temporary stage of Zen, my doubts and worry scurry in the dark corners of my mind. I think they keep a respectful distance and give me pause.

I ponder my climb in this life. Realizing nothing or no one is perfect. We made our own normal. Agreed to acceptable rules and rites.

We held our own checklists tightly to our chests and did whatever it took to complete them before dropping dead.

…but not here in this beautiful and heavenly moment. I wish I could stay here. Sometimes vacations are like that. The good ones where there is no schedule. Just living in the moment and notice the little things so often taken for granted or ignored.

The air is still. I think about a time where I stood on a mountain on the edge of a silent forest. Snow fell silently. My hooded coat framed the scenery. It blocked the real world at my back. I do not remember the cold. I was blissfully numb.

My siren changes her tune. She knows I love her, ever if we will never meet. Her tone fills my head and heart.

Music, great music, is the perfect drug to make all the pain of the present, past…and even tomorrow subside.

My words in this story can’t even describe the tranquility I am experiencing right now. But I wanted to share it. To prove that all is not lost. Even madness and angst can be tamed.

I can already feel myself drifting back to Earth. My siren has finished her song.

I’m back in the present, a little less damaged and a little more alive.

Carry on my wayward son

My father held me when I was born.

Each phase of my life, he was there holding me up literally, morally or psychologically.

When we went fishing, he would carry me on his back across a small creek to keep safe and dry.

He dutifully took me to scout meetings, little league games…and all the other Dad taxi runs.

I remember when we got my first bicycle, my first car (pickup) and he dropped me off at the bus station to enter the military.

As he got older, it was my turn to take care of him. I took him to doctors visits, I picked up for church when I could, I brought him to our house for dinners, holidays….and eventually to his final home where he would be watched over 24/7.

As he got Sick, I picked him up from the emergency room and then he was back again with more pain. When he took a turn for the worse….

I held his hand in mine. I tried to cram so many memories in what time was left. The respirator kept his strong, but tired heart beating.

I hoped he heard me say out loud how grateful I was for everything he did for me. For giving me life and watching over me.

I think he still does.

An Untethered Mind

My thoughts randomly jump around most days. I’m 10, 35, 100….in my head. I reflect on the past, during the best times, and the ones I thought I would never recover from.

I wonder what I will be like in the future. Hopefully still sharp. And not rotting away in a bed somewhere.

I think about the night before my first little league baseball game and how I laid awake all night with my glove. And then I begged my parents to take me to the field before anyone even showed up.

I remember taking walks with my Dad after he got out of the hospital when he suffered a potentially devastating stroke.

How he would carry me on his back across small creeks when we went fishing.

I reflect in when I had to empty his house when I moved him closer and had to throw away so many excess items and memories. It’s amazing how much gravity some items have and “hold us in their little orbits.”

I try to think of my first kiss. The first time I was truly in love. And then how I only wanted quick and fast mindless and empty relationships.

…when I first saw my wife and then her walking down the aisle in our wedding.

Holding my first, second and third born children for the first time.

I jump back in time to when I rode my bicycle down quiet country roads among the farm fields. Feeling the heat and smell of freshly plowed dirt.

The extreme pain of hearing news about the death of my sister in a car accident. How the world became terribly unpredictable after that.

Holding my father’s hand for the last time before I had to let him go forever in the critical care ward.

Sunsets mean more to me because they mark the end of a day that hopefully created new and better memories.

My mental time travels are exhausting at times. What was, what is…and sadly sometimes what could have been.

A few years ago, my thoughts where yelling and drowning out anything important. I desperately tried anything to feel something else, a stiff drink or six…sex with a stranger that had no strings or responsibility….

The first morning after trying my Zoloft…there was a quiet calm. My thoughts had boundaries for the first time in years. I had pause and deep reflection of where I was going and dug my feet and nails in to stop the downward fall from Grace.

Now I “time-jump” a little bit. I sigh when I see the person in the mirror who finally slowed down and ponders the journey to this exact moment.

I can breath a little bit better and…

Rest.