YOU'LL BE WANTING THE WHOLE DAY OFF

So anyway there I am sitting at the freeway offramp waiting for the light to change and I find myself able to buy many things. I could buy oranges, flowers, donate to people of need. I could even hire someone who only wanted to be paid in food. This got me thinking (as I often do), how close are all of us to losing our comforts? I've heard that for many of us the only thing that separates us from the homeless is one or two paychecks. I don't know about you but I don't think I have the survival skills necessary to make it without money. I'm not sure which way the avocado pit needs to face when planting to have delicious guaclmole next year. My carpenter skills fall far short of the skills needed to build that perfect hut. Besides where would I build it any way. Just about every square yard in this country is spoken for. What would a man of the city do if faced with no job and no prospects? Even worse how about being a man at the age one would consider pretty close to being over-the-hill? I sure don't feel like starting over. Or competing with a bunch of twenty-something. I guess I could try to hand out carts at my local Wal-mart. I heard McDonald's is an age friendly kinda place. "Hey kid you wanna super-size that meal". If fresh air is what I want I could become a human sign. Have you seen this yet? People standing on street corners waving signs at you as you drive by. When did it become cheaper to hire someone to stand on the street for hours and hours instead of just getting a piece of wood and some nails. Maybe an old bike with a basket. I could ride around collecting old soda cans or bottles. Needless to say after seeing all of this the future frightens me. I feel as though I am in a big giant Dickens novel. "All very busy". "Then those people must go there". "Many would rather die". I feel akin to all those trying so hard just to make it one more day. I may one day be on the street corner right across from them. I could be the one waving the large sign at you as you drive by. Right at this moment my retirement plan means buying the lotto twice a week. So far no retirement. So never will I look at someone as being less than me. Never will I think less of someone for trying to sell me fruit or flowers on some corner. Never will I judge because someone needs one more quarter for another bottle. We all have our own way of trying to make it through one more day. As long as God is willing my wallet will always be open to those that have less than I. For I know someday I may be the one that needs a quarter. And God bless us every one.

How much for a t-shirt?

The line was long but moved fairly quickly. Held up only momentarily from time to time with people using walkers or wheelchair's. They were all there: The pudgy men with loud Hawaiian shirts and balding heads. The women with thick glasses, costume jewelry and perfect hairdos. Men with leather vests and long grey beards. All moving slowly towards their seats. Some (like myself) taking extra time to negotiate steep concrete steps. Like a huge herd of elders we all moved towards the large stage, trying to find our little plastic seats that many of us found more than a little snug. And what brought out the past generations? What managed to pull us away from our computers and remote controls? An AARP convention? A mass healing for our aging bones? Maybe a Matlock fan club meeting? No my friends, none of these. What brought us together was just a big giant kick-ass rock concert! So we came to pay homage at the church of the Rolling Stones. Our ministers were brother Mick and brother Keith. Their sermon: Ear drum crushing sounds of musical heaven. We spoke in tongues (which is what a bunch of drunk mid-lifers trying to sing sound like). We moved our bodies in ways they haven't been moved in since the '70's. And always brother Mick was there to guide us on our journey. He ran here, he ran there and never did he tire. Brother Keith of course died many years ago but his skeleton performed perfectly. And for two quick hours we all were ageless. For two quick hours we were still rebels, still anti-establishment. All ready to make love not war. Ready to shove it to the MAN. Spirits filled with youthful hope and serenity. Then with a crash of fireworks and smoke it ended. Our guides disappeared into a backstage world that we couldn't follow. Stadium floodlights blazed on to bring us back to stark reality. We once again saw the true "us". We are the establishment, we are the MAN. We are getting older and realizing we won't live forever. But man for two short hours..... Keep cool dude and don't trust anyone over seventy.

OUR FADING PAST

It's a secret. You have to promise not to tell anyone. One of my favorite breakfast joints is closing. In six weeks to be exact. Our waitress thought since we were regulars we ought to know. Here we go again. Another something soon to be in my past and only a fading memory. We as a collective group are always anxious for something new. The next gen car, the newest fashions, new movies and DVD's. In fact we've practically have made every Tuesday a national holiday with DVD Tuesday (the actual day when new DVD's are released). Things new are waited in line for and grabbed and raised into the air for all too see and long for. Those things that are old and tired and well worn find themselves in a fight for their lives. Too old to be trendful, too young to be classic. That dangerous time when bulldozer or trash can seems inevitable. Some lucky items may sit on the blanket on the front lawn waiting to be "bargained" down to fifty-cents (take heed Michael Bolton CD's). Other items can expect no less than the bottom of some dumpster (I'm looking at you George Foreman grill). How quick we are to discard. How easy to fling an forget. I know things are only things but how sad to see items that have aledgely past their usefulness laying upon the curb. There's shadows of life in those items. The dresser that once held finery of a lovely lady. The lamp that once shone brightly on even the darkest of nights. Now replaced with more current trends. I call it Christmas tree lost sad. To know what I mean all you have to do is drive by a Christmas tree lot on December 26th. See the unwanted trees piled in the corner? Now I'm not saying we all have give up our shiny new Lexus and hop back into our '82 Ford Escort, but surely things of usefulness must still have a use. Maybe not 8-track tape players or black & white TV's. But how about grandma's old pie pantry or your broken in baseball glove from high school. Are they worth holding onto? Isn't it nice to look ahead while still holding onto something of our past? How about a little breakfast joint that you've been going to for nearly twenty-years? A place with a history far more interesting than most people? A place where coffee is still twenty-five cents a cup, where light fixtures above are made out of old oak wine barrel's. A place where the waitress knows your name and your order before you even sit down. A place where you brought your small children to, where their eyes popped out when they saw the size of the pancakes they ordered and you joked to them that they had to eat them all. Where your kids said someday they would bring their own kids here and now they do. Is this the type of place worth keeping, or has it earned a visit from the wrecking ball and bulldozer? Someday, many years from now, you will pass a large non-descript multi-story office building and point. You will say that long ago on that very site sat a little breakfast joint that many would go to. You will say how good the food was and how nice the people were. Always the sound of people talking and laughing. Coffee was still just twenty-five cents a cup. And your kids will look at you confused and bored as you drive them to that golden arch with the plastic chairs and plastic food to eat what a million others will eat.

My Mistake

Jack died a few years ago. Maybe it was quite a few years ago. I can't remember exactly because when he died we both worked for different companies. I only found out about his death through a mutual friend. "Oh by the way did you know that Jack died last year?" No, no I didn't . I would have liked to of known. I would have liked to have paid my last respect. Sometimes when you journey forward you lose touch with minor members of your past. To bad because I liked Jack. Jack always got up every morning and tried his best. Unfortunately for Jack his best was never good enough. Unfortunately for Jack most of what he did was very forgettable. I only remembered him recently because he suddenly popped into a dream I was having. In the dream he was having a heart attack and died. I looked at him saw that he was dead and decided that it wasn't worth the time to call 911. Sad as that sounds that pretty much sums up Jacks life. He lived with the saying: If it wasn't for bad luck I wouldn't have any luck at all. Too bad. He really was a very nice man. He just had that big red target on his back. Being a salesman at the same company I worked at I got to see much of this first hand. While most of our salesman would sleep in late or go on extended vacations, Jack would hit the streets early every day. Every single day. Most of the time the customers told him they didn't have time for him. He would smile say he would come back another day then log it all down in his little computer. He would never miss a return trip. If the same thing happened again he would smile and say he would come back again. And he always did. His persistence paid off once with a large distribution company. They asked him what he sold and he showed him his line of samples. The man said You know what we could use those. And promptly bought two truckloads worth. Next month they did the same thing. They soon became one of our biggest customers. So big in fact that the company said it was too big an account for one salesman and took it away from Jack making it what they call a company account. What that meant for Jack was no more commissions on their sales and a quick demand that he get out there and find new bussiness for the drop in his numbers. This finally led to his dismissal for poor performance. Jack didn't let that get to him and called a friend of a friend who sold boats out by the seashore. Got the job by telling the manager of sales that he had a lot of good leads. Now I'm not talking about little fishing boats or jet skis, I'm talking about 20' long motor cruisers. Perfect for that trip to the club on Catalina Island. Or a fancy cocktail party at the marina with all your Harvard buddy's. Who were his good leads? All his former co-workers. His Chevy driving , tract home mortgage paying co-workers. Tell you what Jack as soon as I pay off my kids braces I'll look into buying a boat that's worth more than my house. This job did not last. Nor did my contact with Jack. Oh he called once in awhile to give us updates. "No, no job yet but I've got a good feeling about my last interview. I think I really impressed them." "Well yes my wife left me but I really think we can work it out. I don't think her moving back east is gonna stop us from getting back together." Last I heard about Jack was just after the Northridge earthquake. His house had received the most damage on his street. His insurance didn't cover all the damages and I don't think he was ever able to replace the chimney or fireplace. I'm sorry Jack. Sorry that I never made the effort to stay in contact with you. Sorry that I never called and said hey let's go get a beer and play some darts. Or let's meet for lunch. Sorry that I acted like bad luck was contagious. Sorry that I didn't see you for you. A good man that always had a smile on his face and always felt with a little work, tomorrow will always be a little better. I truly do hope that you are in heaven and that God likes his new cabin cruiser.

A picture with me in a jail cell. Well you can't see me actually. 

PASS THE JOYSTICK

I truly am sloppy with the blog. Sorry to all who read this (all none of you). You'd think at my age I would be more mature and responsible. You know, set goals and keep them. Improve with each new minute. Waste time not (sorry Yoda). Nah. I'm as much a procrastinator now as I was when I was a teenager. Well at least now I don't have my mom pounding on my bedroom door shouting: "turn down that noise, get out in the yard and mow the grass". My wife took over that job. Well at least I can drive now. At least I can go to the mall and buy new video games. In teenage land, no money-very little fun. But now, more money-very little fun. Just kidding. Fun is just around the corner (and when you figure out which corner email me). Speaking of video games, did you know that 25% of all video games are bought by men in their fortys? That's me! Well I don't buy 25% of the games but I do like gaming a lot. Hey young ones. You see a man in his fortys acting all serious, trust me he's not. He's just trying to act like what he thinks a forty-year-old is suppose to act. He's really just a kid in a very used set of skin. Trust me you close the door and he'll be playing air guitar on the other side. I don't. Much too mature for that. But other old guys do. Isn't that sad. We have that kid attitude locked inside of us and we can only show it when doors are locked or when we're on our sixth beer. Maybe you saw us doing our stupid dance at the last party we went to. Or was it the last wedding? I forget. It was at the last event where we stood up in a rented tux and made that speech. You know what speech I'm talking about. THAT SPEECH. The one where the bride yelled "sit down dad". "We know your happy and we all love you too". "Mom please do something!" What the hell. If we're writing $20,000 checks for the blessed event then baby hand over the microphone. Those Swedish meatballs didn't grow on trees you know. Oh by the way, Re. The last entry. The old pope is still dead and the new pope is still old. Back to the liquor store. "Hey mister will you buy me some beer?

ON OUR OWN

The smoke is black, no wait the smoke is white. Yes ladies and gentlemen we have a new Pope. If you can call 78 years-old new. I felt very bad about the last Pope. He became pope about the same time I got married to my beautiful wife, 1978. So Pope John Paul II was Pope most of my adult life. For me it felt a little like losing my father. I never really knew my father so it's as close as I can get to that feeling. Not to worry about my marriage though. Still very strong, still very exciting. Opps didn't see how late it was gotta go for now. Well finish later. Promise.

WHERE TO NOW?

My last entry was November? WOW. Maybe I should stop playing computer games and get serious about life. Sorry it aint gonna happen. But being the procrastinator that I am I will make a New Years resolution to update this thing more often. It's only March, way to early to be thinking of New Years. By the way Happy Holidays. All I can say is that life don't stop. Not ever. My life, your life, it just keeps going. With or with out you. Today is the second day of getting on the computer with ease. What I mean by that is that this is the second day after my little devil/angel child moved out of the house and into her new life. Of course she may seem like an adult to the rest of the world but to me she is still my little baby waiting in front of her school for me to pick her up. She is still my little baby that can't eat pork because it would be an insult to Babe from the movie of the same name. The one who could do homework while listening to music, watching TV and talking on the phone all at the same time. The one who at the age of five promised daddy that she would never grow up. Who promised that nothing would be as important as being with daddy. And so it was true for so many years. But some promises are very hard to keep. My little baby became a beautiful grown-up lady. And although I know she still loves daddy very much, another has become very important to her in her life. So much so that she would go to the ends of the earth to be with him. Luckily, that far wasn't necessary. Where did she end up? What depressing place does she have to call home to live with her true love? Hawaii. The new Mr. & Mrs. must suffer thru constant sun,surf and sand. Meanwhile I sit in a very quiet house. A house that seems to heave in loneliness. After so many years of activities and friends, laughter and noise, it seems to be searching for its new identity. So am I. From a father who planned his schedule around the needs of his kids to a man with time on his hands I too search for the new direction my life will take. Until then do you think two days is enough time to past to go for a little visit? I've always heard that Hawaii is beautiful this time of year.