Our parent’s legacy becomes legend.

We filter out the bad memories and hopefully focus on the good ones. No parent is ever perfect.

I reflect on her life and all the hardships she had to endure. A widow into her mid to late 30’s with 4 children would probably break most people. My father came into her life and gave her a 5th child. (Yours truly).

Somehow she kept going, somehow she made the best of whatever life handed her. She was the perfect hostess, making grand meals during family gatherings or a cup of coffee for her brothers at her “impromptu truck stop” in Honey Brook, Pa.

She had an amazing laugh, and buried the pain both physically and mentally.

She had some more challenging years later in life and towards the end, she came back to her Pennsylvania.

It’s fitting she was born just before Mother’s Day.

I miss your laugh, and wish I could tell you how amazing I think you were for how you kept going with all those hills and valleys in your life.

Happy Birthday Mom. ❤️

There is no perfect life

I’m not upset about this realization, or pessimistic observation, I’m just trying to accept some things.

As a child, teenager and even up until a few years ago, I would sometimes think my life wasn’t fair. That’s petty, selfish and totally illogical. If life followed a plan we wouldn’t be passionate, brave, daring, hopeful or hungry for life. We would coast allowing “the plan” to unfold. Granted some people do have everything mapped out for themselves. And their plan actually works out. But what was that price? Did they put off everything else in their journey? Did they isolate themselves to avoid drama and distractions? I dated a girl in High School and she followed her plan. Is she happy now? I think she is still alone, but maybe due to guys like me she dated, she is happier? Even when her parents divorce like mine did years before, she ignored the drama and kept focused on her end game.

Some people have zero plans. They just wake up and go with it. Either by choice, fate, apathy, mental illness, or feel there is no hope and way to change things. They just accept it. Are some of them happy? Any regrets there? I expected to have both parents and my family live forever. We would continue gathering whenever for whatever. I would stay in my birthplace state….forever. Everyone would be happy and content.

The school summer vacations would last for what felt like an entire year. The farmer next door would continue to plant crops in the field behind us, I would explore the woods every day, and build snow until I couldn’t feel my feet anymore.

Dad and I would fish quiet hidden streams, I would play with my childhood friends forever.

None of this happened. Before I was 15, all of it changed. Death, divorce, illness, moving a thousand miles away…no more change of seasons, or the comforting silence of snow on the ground. So what do I do with this “Cursed life”? Looking back at my person debris field, I see that somehow kept going. I truly do apologize for another blog post about this…. But it’s helping me, to grow, to understand, to accept and maybe…just maybe, let go of some of that history that haunts me.

I tried so hard to erase parts of me that I don’t want to revisit, remember or continue to exist with. But at the same time, that’s exactly what I do. I chain myself to the past. I gives me pause, punishment, guilt, pain, regret….It nudges me into indecision, hesitation, creates a bias.

What would I be like if “The Plan” stayed the course? Would I like the guy in the mirror? Would he have made less bad decisions, lost less friends, drank less, spend less, be more confident and less afraid? Would he have joined the military? And then see the world? Or would he have stayed in his little sleepy farm town with no urge to improve, to fight back, to make amends to himself or others? Just existing until the next page was turned for him?

Would he be this deeply morose and sometimes depressed middle-aged man trying to find purpose and the will to let things go for a change? Would his medicine cabinet have less bottles to help him get through the dark times? Would the aches and pains be less, could he sleep more that “X” amount of hours on a good night?

Or….maybe this was the plan all along. Did God plan this for me? Or is it because he obviously knows life isn’t perfect. But we have free will, we can decided how to respond to whatever comes our way. We decide the next move. Who to love, forgive, and when to let go of them when they leave us too soon.

Once I can accept that fact, and not the fallacy that I was robbed of something….maybe I can breath a little easier again, sleep another minute undisturbed.

As they say, count your blessings and not the misfortunes.

All, Some or None

All, Some or None

 

I miss some people a lot, a little, not at all….or AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE.

Yes, that sounds harsh but it’s the way it is.  I joined my High School Alumni page but only to see the old click still trying to grab the spotlight at times.  Or I am seeing the progress of our old building being torn down and feel….nothing.  Nothing at all.  I can barely remember most of my teachers or classes I took.

Someone commented on how The Ramp in the main common area was covered in river gravel at one point.  I have zero memory of that.

It’s kind of sad that is my history there.  Just a grey cloud.  But maybe its also good.  I know some kids “peaked” in High School and never felt that important or noticed outside the classroom door.  Maybe that’s why the shy ones, the underdogs sometimes flourish post-graduation.  Sometimes.

Some are like Uncle Rico in Napoleon Dynamite.  Trying to get that one moment back.

 Other classmates before, during and after my time there are sad and nostalgic about the demolition.

Maybe I would be too if my parents didn’t divorce and I had a “normal” life during that time. But instead I was just trying to get through each day with the promise of graduating and moving forward.  To where?  I had no idea back then.  I just know I would be able to be somewhere else, and eventually out on my own, unburdened.  Do I still blame my parents?  Maybe not.  For it forced me to grow faster and be more independent earlier in life.

I’d say more responsible…but that took longer.  😉

 I now see this trend with a lot of people and things in my life.  My military unit is a huge one.  Once I hit the 15^th anniversary of my retirement, I finally accepted that it’s over and

I could never go back.  I know that wasn’t realistic.  I was just trying to hold onto that momentum and feeling of belonging.  But I started to see the politics, drama, BS, nepotism, dirty back room deals and now…I have let it all go.  (Not the memory of the good things…just those people)  Sadly, some people I actually care about and miss are unfortunately collateral damage.

Because attending an event would involve seeing the “non-gratis people. “ 

 I’ve also worked too hard to adjust to my new “normal” and my work/life balance.  They say to cut toxic people out of your life, and it actually works.  They also say to not let people live Rent Free in your head.

I will never visit some of my old workplaces.  For they all eventually crashed and burned. Toxic culture, horrendous management…etc.  As my best friend would say: “Little Cubicle Empires”.

Even at my current job, they exist.  BUT….I somehow fell into that small niche with the total opposite outcome.  A supportive boss, co-workers and a client who “loves” us.  I also get to use my hands and mind for good and productive purposes.  I’m supporting heroes again.

 My self-imposed exile is necessary.  I’m finally happy, more or less and rediscovering myself finally.

 

Momentum

I’m ashamed to admit that I love the movie “Hot Tub Time Machine”, not for its over the top crude humor as much as it struck a nerve with me. It mostly took place in 1986. That was a very, very, VERY pivotal year in my life.

That was when I decided to join the Air Force.

One of the main character’s young 20-something nephew goes back in time with the group and see’s how wild and crazy his uncle and friends were.

He asked his uncle in one scene, “What happened to you guys?”

(Referring to the current older versions who’s lives are a mess or have dreams unfulfilled)

His uncle replies very sadly: “We had momentum…”

I pulled a simple 12 hour shift today. (We are rotating to ensure no one gets burned out)

I work my regular 8 hour days during the rest of the week. I guess we are “Essential”, which gives me a huge roller coaster of emotions at any given minute. I’m complex that way….and not necessarily a strong trait. More of an exhausting trait.
So I’m proud, humbled, angry (that many others get to “work from home”) honored, jazzed, scared, and mostly just plain tired.

“Time to make the doughnuts…” kind of tired.

Back in my military days, we pulled 12 on, 12 off for months on end. “12/12’s”

Yes I was younger back then, but then I realized there were other factors. I was with my military brothers and sisters in the field. We had each other’s backs. We didn’t cause the stress, and we faced it head-on with our arms locked and overcame all of it.
All.
Of.
It.

Think of the movie “300” without the death and 8-pack abs….

In this new world I am working in, I still have a great team, but the external factors greatly outnumber us. External factors that make this activation harder than it needs to be.

I’m sorry I tell endless “war stories” and how much I pine over the “good old days”…but you had to be there.

The other branches would gawk at us when we arrived onsite, and with little discussion or pre-deployment briefing, we would setup an entire comms site in hours and be on the air with secure communications to the other side of the world. We were on autopilot.

When something crashed or hit the fan, we also bolted into action like a complicated ballet troubleshooting, analyzing, fixing issues as the popped up…effortlessly most times.

Veteran’s experience their own version of Dog Years. We compress so much stress and emotion into a shorter period of time, that it gets into your system. Look at ANY industry where retirees literally drop dead within the first months, years of retirement. That is all they knew. They were wired for the frantic pace, the ongoing trench warfare of the mind.

As I said, you just had to be there, because….

…we had some freaking awesome momentum.

The Loneliness of The Now

Last night as my second glass of bourbon kicked in, I felt very lonely. I’m in a rut these past few weeks. Probably because I’m not doing woodworking. It’s that therapeutic for me. The days at work are a blur, I am not even sure what day it is half the time. My good friend would always say: “Wash, Rinse, Repeat” Speaking of my best friend, there was a time I would send her a random text message with no expectations of a timely response. Just to vent, bitch, cry about some misfortune or how depressed I was in my years following retirement from the military. (We served together) She would talk me down, or give advice, or just “nod” in acknowledgement. But she has a full plate with her current boyfriend, health issues, and work challenges. (She had some of that when I would send those messages in a bottle, but didn’t care and was selfish for my own needs) So now…I refrain from sending those text messages. I don’t want to add to any pressure she is currently dealing with. For I have better meds, and “tools” to help me get through the dark times.

Mostly.

I know I have slowly evolved into a shut-in. I’m tired a lot, from sleep issues, chronic pain, the long three months of helping my terminally ill neighbor up until his passing on January 1st….the major house remodel project, and the subsequent remaining “To-Do” list as I try to wrap up the final pieces of the remodel and other things that were placed on hold. My bicep tear/injury last year delayed a lot of things.

Last night, I jumped on the rowing machine and the sharp pain in my repaired arm was eye-opening, disappointing and depressing. I know nothing will be the same, but I was hoping it was feeling better a year later. I guess I didn’t work it back into shape enough. So hopefully 15 minutes on the machine will turn into 20…to 30…etc.

I love my job, it’s just that the slow days become comfortable and then when something does pop-up, I need to nudge myself into action. But it also means we are keeping the equipment running smoothly for a change and reducing downtime for the clients.

I also cant’ believe I’ve been here 7 years. Which is a record after bouncing jobs due to contracts not being renewed, horrendous leadership, or toxic office cultures…or just me having adjustment issues to the outside world.

Over the course of these past 15 years, I’ve built a maze around myself and really don’t have any true good friends. I have great friends….but not that one “Good Friend”. The one who is your ride or die friend. Some days I’m okay about it. Other days, like last night I just wanted to text them and say: “I’m not in a good place right now.” Like I said, I have friends, but I don’t want to come across as needy. I’m pretty honest with people these days about not being perfect….but I don’t want to overstay my welcome. There are limits and boundaries.uly was t

I almost texted my sister (who will probably read this post) and tell her: “Your little brother is not doing so hot.” But thanks to my meds, and the lesson of “Postponement” I know I will be okay in a few hours, or days….and it will get better. And if it doesn’t, I jump on something creative and that helps. Speaking of my sister, I am planning on seeing her for at least a week. Which is only about 40 years overdue.

I thanked her at my military retirement ceremony for when I was 14 years old, I moved in with her up North. To get away from my parent’s messy divorce (which gets mentioned frequently in my stories). There in the beautiful woods, I found peace. I found my reset. I found a healthy perspective.

And realized my Dad probably needs me with him. I stayed with my mother after the divorce as some misconstrued notion of societal norms. But she was the one who ran away with the Devil who chain-smoked and drank cases of beer, weekly. He truly was the Devil. The ultimate user, abuser, liar, narcissist…and anti-Christ. She finally left him and I think he died in some run-down mobile home in an over-grown lot in the middle of no-where. Living with the latest woman who bought his endless bullshit.

Again…this is why the past is a harsh mistress for me. But, now I know I am in a better place.

I have an invisible pull to hit the road, to take a week off and do something fun. I sometimes do take a 3-day weekend for myself, but right now, I manage to make it through each day. Somehow.

I do look forward to getting back to golfing after a 5-year break. With my friends. Who know I’m imperfect, and have some slight knowledge I have a few loose screws. 😉

We are never alone

Part of getting older is reflecting on when we were younger and the path to get to this very moment.

We didn’t take that journey alone. There was a cast of thousands guiding you.

Some gave you a nudge, pointed the way, some may have even knocked you down.
(They count too)

Others picked you up, tended to your wounds and set you back onto the path.

Our teachers, mentors, leaders, friends, pets, parents and especially our loved ones.

We are a sum of all those people. The echoes, although faded, still reverb in your soul.

Part of getting older is understanding to make the most of our time here.
Getting older makes you both patient and impatient.

Tolerance for what you can control, and resist fretting over petty things.

I have recently reconnected with those who helped shaped me growing up.

I thank God for these people in my life. (And to have them see that young wild kid…somewhat…matured) 😉

So in the darkest of times, especially this past year, I smile at the thought that I am never alone.

Sex Sells, unfortunately

Everywhere you look, social media, TikTok, Instagram…FB…there is a girl busting out of her clothes, always showing her rear end from a certain angle. Decorators, or remodelers wearing yoga pants. I saw one girl who does woodworking wearing a tiny string tank top and spilling out of it. Any girl with a body and sewing machine are into Cosplay.

I remember watching the A-Team back in the 80’s (or any TV show then and now for that matter) Only beautiful women needed rescuing. Influencers showing skin with a view…photoshopped bodies, etc. it never ends. I have a high school classmate who has a TikTok channel, her and her boob job cash-in on men watching her tease and bounce in various videos. Making sexual innuendos, and smirking at the camera.

First of all, I love the female form. I love sex, I enjoy seeing a beautiful woman in public. But….I want them to have something going on upstairs. A personality. A purpose, Layers, wants and desires….something intelligent. Be your own person. I know, these girls make a ton of money being eye-candy. With little investment. I was never a fan of strip-joints. It just felt wrong paying to ogle women and throw money at them. Marry them instead. 😛 The girls twirling on a pole, smiling at you like you are the greatest thing in the room. I’m not stupid. I also am not judging the girls. Some are paying for bills, children, college, whatever. Some just trying to survive. Some maybe looking for a man to sweep them off their feet. But how good can a man be if that’s the kind of place he frequents?

I know my world view has changed. After 30 years of marriage and having two daughters, I have a healthier view about women, and hate to see them used, or desperate for attention for the wrong reasons. I also ruin a lot of my relationships with woman, cause…”Me Happens”.

I use to turn heads up into my 40’s just around when I hit 50. But the grey is taking over, the body is falling apart, and I sigh when I see this old guy reflected in the mirror, the car’s window when I’m getting gas. I’m last year’s model. Outdated, the warranty is expired. 😛

I’m also not bitter. Just accepting my new norm. I can’t escape the video clips or snapshots of some girl smirking at the camera, showing off her ass that can crack walnuts, or legs that seem to go forever. Or she has implants that can float an aircraft carrier…(That’s kind of funny)

Just give me a girl who knows who she is, and doesn’t need others approval, and isn’t afraid to tell you like it is.

Oh yeah…I married her. 😉

The Fog

No matter how good my day is going, how beautiful the weather, a darkness seems to always silently cast over me. A full medicine cabinet, successful therapy sessions in the past, it finds me. I force a smile, appear normal to those who I encounter at work. Inside the Fog is already there, blanketing the sun.

Like my chronic aches, pains and unfortunate tinnitus that I have, I have learned to live with it. Accept it. Move past it. Embrace it at times. It allows me to justify not attending events, parties, or other social activities. Now I do these things from time to time. I’m not in total isolation. When a good friend past away last year, I went to say goodbye to him, both at the service and his interment at the VA Cemetery. I owed it to him. For he was the voice of reason and experience when I was losing my battle with depression. When I was slipping and ready to walk away from everything and everyone. He was that small fire on a shoreline. Not the majestic proverbial lighthouse, but a spark in the vast stormy darkness. As if to say: “Here….here is your goal.” Get here when you can. Take your time.

On paper, my life is perfect. Wife, children, two dogs, a beautiful home, a job that I actually love. People who care about me. I’m trying to work on my recovering relationship with God with whom I had doubts over and over about. The amatuer scientist and sci-fi nerd in me tugs at my heart and mind. How can everything be true? If I took our planet, or solar system and placed myself on it as dot, that dot would be invisible against the entire history of the universe. When I was a child, everything was real, Santa, the Easter Bunny, monsters, ghosts and my fear of the dark. Now my mind is full of lessons, cause and effect, facts and mis-truths, falsehoods, lies told to and by me. No wonder reality is so blurred now.

No wonder The Fog finds me. My heart keeps looking for what’s next. The newest and shiniest thing. A new toy. A new experience, challenge…victory.

From the time we foraged and fought to make it through each day, to survive, our minds were occupied with that basic instinct. Now we have nothing but time on our hands. To ponder, question, complain, criticize, to hate, to judge…to wonder.

And just when I get a small break in my soul. Just when I’m satisfied and calm. The Fog rolls in again. As if to remind me of the constant turmoil in my head. Maybe I just need to remember it’s only temporary, and a natural occurrence. It will abate, and the sun will come out again. Patience.

I do thank God for my imagination, to create, draw and…write down my emotions here. That helps bleed off The Fog, the darkness. To fight back against it as if to say, I know why you are here. But I also know that I have passed through you before on the other side.

I. Am. Still. Here.

How Quickly We All Forget

As they say, if you do not study, learn and/or pay attention to History, you are doomed to repeat it. And when they say “doomed”, they mean the bad stuff or poor decisions again.

People forget promises to themselves, to spouses, friends, family and even God. Politician promise the Universe to their voters, and usually fail to keep them. Millions die in wars and we swear it will be the last one, only to enter into another conflict. I think what scares me the most is that the world stage is affected by so few people in the wrong positions.

When I said “I do” at the altar, I should have said, that may expire, or I will become selfish, or…I feel like I’m doing all the sacrificing here and now all bets are off. Or my perspective of sacrifice is inflated and blown out of proportion.

Humans will never learn. We will keep choosing poorly, and repeating the good and the bad until the end of time.

The Road Trip

My brother has been gone for over 20 years. This memory is over 30 years ago.

My summer vacations back to my homeland of Pennsylvania were always epic. Adventures and exploration. These were during my formative years as I tried to grow up into a responsible adult, while at the same time run wild and rampant across my old stomping grounds. This memory was before my last attempt to move back up there.

My brother would jump back and forth from being a Master Carpenter and Truck Driver. The desire to create with his hands in one moment, then the call of the open road to take a break and get lost in his thoughts. I wish he and I had deeper conversations. I was still on the other side of 15 and wasn’t that complicated yet.

As usual, he would call at the last minute and/or show up after being AWOL for weeks or months on end. This time he asked me if I wanted to accompany him on a road trip to Michigan and back. We met at a random and well known parking lot central to everyone’s houses. I threw a change of clothes together and joined him on is latest road trip.

I would never know what he was driving each time, whether personal car/truck or semi-truck for that matter. I kept my expecations low. One time it would be an old Cadillac or a Lincoln Towncar with 100,000 miles on it. The next time, a 4X4 truck or Jeep.

This time he showed up in a red and white GMC Astrocab truck. This is also called a Cab-Over. You sit ABOVE the engine and the nose is “flat”. It has a very commanding view of the road. Probably easier to navigate in tight spaces. You are also sitting above the front tires.

This was early evening. I don’t even remember if he told me our destination. The truck was pulling a long flatbed trailer with a single giant roll of steel on it. This was for the stamping plant at a Chrysler Auto manufacturing plant. The first thing I noticed was there was Japanese writing all over the roll. American cars with Japanese steel. My father would have had a heart attack right there on the spot. He was a retired American Steel Mill Worker. This would not sit well with him. I don’t think I never told him that our cars had this type of foreign steel in them.

So we hit the road, driving late into the night. I haven’t seen him in ages. We talked about everything and nothing. At one point we were driving by a giant drive-in theater near the interstate we were as we went further to the West. The movie appeared to be a Japanese Kung-Fu/Samurai type flick. We both immediately added our own dialogue to it. Then we proceeded to bust out laughing. Somewhere in Ohio at 2-3 am, he pulled into a random truck stop. He hit his mandatory driving hours and had to rest. His truck had a built in sleeper cab. (For one person) I had to fend for myself in the passenger seat. On top of this, the driver’s console curved around between the seats. I couldn’t stretch out so I leaned into the door and put my feet on the dash. (I didn’t sleep) He raised his head for a second and said, don’t answer the door if anyone knocks. At this hour, it’s usually “working girls”….

O_O

Being shy of 15, I was mortified. Girls still had cooties.

We eventually made it to the factory. They swapped the shipping address with the billing address. We tried to deliver a roll of steel to downtown Detroit. We figured it out when we saw the highrise and the security guard scratching his head.

As we went through the back lot, we saw the retired stamping machines with grease pencil describing what the machines made. We saw “Roadrunner”, “Barracuda” , “Charger”….it was like a car fanatics paradise.

My brother got us a real hotel room for the night. (I never appreciated a real bed so much in my life) Who knew this would prepare me for my military career someday.

My brother was an independent trucker. This meant he had to find a load for the return trip home. It was a waste of time and money to drive with an empty trailer. This was before computers, the internet and cell phones. We went to large room in a truckstop and watched black and white TV’s scrolling with loads and destinations. We of course looked for flatbed loads going East. He eventually found a load of railroad rails for a coal mine in remote West Virginia. Close enough.

Our trip was probably a brutal 4 day trip, but I was sad and relieved when it was over. I forgot to mention one thing. A typical truck has a driver’s seat with shock absorbers and 20 adjustments for the driver’s comfort.

I looked down at my passenger seat and noticed I was sitting on top of the heater and my seat was bolted directly to the cab/floor. No shock absorbers or adjustments. I was in Hell.

I had my trusty 110 film camera and snapped some pictures. One of my favorites was taken while we were in a tunnel and he looked at me with this huge cheesy smile on his face. That piece of crap camera not only took a clear picture of my brother, it also froze the tiny wall tiles speeding by us at 60+ miles an hour. (You could see each tile) Cool.

17 years later, I returned to Pennsylvania to say goodbye to him and see him laid to rest.

Death is a reminder to live a full and purposeful life. We never know when it will come.

I think of my departed ones often. They are of course a huge part of what I am today.

Here’s to more epic Road Trips.