The Beat Goes On...

Looking back on my relationship with my parents, I thought when I was between the age of 15 and 25 I was so much smarter, more sophisticated and more clever than they were.

That perception changed slightly in the next ten years. In that subsequent decade (now that my own child was growing into puberty) they were beginning to look at a lot smarter and more prophetic than I was willing to give them credit for.

By the time I was entering my fifth decade on the planet, they were looking smarter with every passing year.

Now that they are gone... They have become absolutely brilliant.

I can only hope that happens with my relationship with my son.

The beat goes on...

A Fresh Start

A Fresh Start

Clean slate,
Can’t wait.
Starting over
We’ll be moving on
In a totally new manner

All mistakes,
All misdeeds
Are forgiven.
Forget the past
Live in the present

Future is what we make of it.
A chance for renewal,
A chance to make it right.
Isn’t that the promise of every
New
Day?

Changes

Changes

Change is constant.
It’s one of the very few absolutes in this life.

I can’t imagine what the future holds
No one can.

Change is something that needs to become our friend
Not something to be feared
Or avoided
But, embraced.

It’s change that is the carrier for life’s lessons.

The miracles lie within.

Crossroads - Part III

After I established a place to live in this new city, I began to explore my new environ.

I was a tad spooked by the urban characteristics of this new town. I had been born and lived all my life up until that move in a rural setting. It took a while before I was able to sleep well with the new sounds that became part of the everyday soundtrack.

My office was positioned on the street side of an revamped shirt factory. The building was situated about two blocks from a firehouse which also contained an ambulance company depot. It became the norm to hear that siren go off and hear the sound of the ambulance or fire equipment making its way down the avenue towards whatever trouble and duty called.

The weeks were focused entirely on my job responsibilities and at that point in my life, I realized shortly that I relished that focus. It enabled me to let go of the sadness and the emotional blow that the dissolution of my marriage and old life.

The weekends were committed to my son. I made the two hour round trip on either Friday night or Saturday morning to pick him up and repeated the same actions (in reverse) on Sunday evening to return him to his home (my old home). I would come to do this every week for 12+ years (with only a very few exceptions).

The trips to pick up my son were always joyous. My son enjoyed regaling me with what was going on in his life, in his school. We talked about what interested him, what video game currently he was engaged in, what music or book he was currently fixated on.

The trip down on Sunday would include some of those elements but, it was always overshadowed by the fact that I was returning alone. In the first years after the move, I always mourned a little and would feel sorry for myself (to some extent) on that return ride.

The rides themselves were great because at least half of the time, I had his full attention and he had a captive audience. They allowed us two hours of guaranteed “quality time” every weekend. In between the commutes I would try to plan some activities but always allowed my son to dictate the final itinerary for the weekend. We would often end up seeing a movie, eating out, going to some sporting events.

In the first couple of years we both developed a fondness for attending the local minor league baseball teams that were situated in close proximity to my apartment and in the winter months we embraced hockey. There was a minor league franchise that played in the city center. I had never been much of a hockey fan before but, after a few games I began to follow the team and learning more about the game. We were strictly spectators. I had learned early on that my son didn’t really like to participate much in athletics.

When he was younger and became of age for T-ball, I attempted to get my son interested in participating in the local (to his home town) T-ball league. Being a life long baseball fan that was obviously something I was relishing ever since he was born.

Unfortunately (for me) he lost interest, or maybe he never had any, in the sport. He dropped out of the league. Not wanting to be one of those pushy dads that attempt to push his own dreams onto his kid, I let him.

Crossroads - Part II

“Jimmy… your mom and I have to talk to you about something.” The look in his eyes broke my heart.

“You see… um… your mom and I haven’t been getting along to good lately. This happens sometimes after grown ups have been living together for a long time.”

My son was now starting to get upset but, I could tell he was still listening very attentively.

I had to continue even though my heart was breaking and I knew my words were breaking my sons heart as well.

“We have decided to live apart for a while to see if that helps the situation. I’m going to move out and get my own apartment. I want you to come with me today to the area that I’m looking to move to and help your dad find a new place to live.

“Even though I won’t be living here, I’ll continue to see you every weekend. You’ll live with your mom during the week. You’ll come up and see me on the weekends.”

He was now crying.

My soon to be ex-wife was then attempting to console him while she was preparing a small suitcase for him for the weekend.

That first ride up to the Albany area was a rough one. For the first twenty minutes or so, he sat pretty quietly. I think was trying to stifle the tears and to possibly formulate questions. I encouraged him to ask me anything he’d like but, I said a lot of what was going to transpire in the coming months was going to be a work in progress. I wasn’t even sure how this would actually play out.

I wanted to be as honest with my son as I thought he could take.

We looked at two apartment complexes that day before returning to the corporate suite that was currently serving as my temporary base of operations. I was lucky that my current employer was gracious enough to let me stay here for a month until I could complete the move from downstate.

The following day we checked out a couple of other apartments before we had to return for my son to begin his first week without me living at home.

On that return trip, my son had screwed up his nerve to ask me how long this trial separation was supposed to last.

I answered in the most honest fashion I could.

“We don’t know. Right now, we are just setting things up. It’s likely going to take some time before we are able to make any decisions.”

Crossroads

Sometimes, it seems, you instinctively know what path to take when you find yourself at one of life’s crossroads. Sometimes you don’t even recognize that you’re at a crossroads but the anxiety of having to decide between two very appealing directions causes you to pause and reflect before moving on. Time, you figure, and fate will judge whether the path chosen was the best.

I woke up this morning and knew that I was sitting right in the bisection of two divergent pathways and that I needed to make a decision because I’ve put off moving in any direction too long already.

You see, my marriage to a wonderful girl was skidding into a divorce court whether I wanted to believe this or not. I had been working two dead end jobs and really needed to make a change to establish a career in the information technology field. I had been working towards that goal without really acknowledging that this was what I was doing. I had actually garnered a second interview with a technology company in a neighboring city about 100 miles away from my current home and family.

If I was going to make a run at a technology career, this was a golden opportunity. It also was attractive because of the pain I was attempting to contend with in staying in my hometown while attending to the end of the only love affair I’d ever had in my life. Getting out of the town and into a new situation was both appealing and frightening.

In essence, making such a move would be taking on every major stressor in the book. I would, in one fell swoop, be moving into a situation where I would surely be mourning the passing of my marriage. I would be moving away from child, away from my family and my supporting friends. I would be moving to an unfamiliar area, moving from a mostly rural environment to a city, to a new job in a different industry. Couldn’t have planned for a more complete makeover.

It was one of those rare occasions where, as frightening as it appeared, I knew in my heart this was the right move. I didn’t even have to reflect long and hard about the pros and cons. I knew that to stay would be a move that I would come to regret. Moving on would afford me a chance to heal and to begin working towards a new start on many levels.

The roughest part of this decision was going to be moving away from my 8 year old son. I wanted to make sure that he understood the reasons and that I wasn’t going to be leaving his life by a long shot. It was going to be tough, but I was committed to do whatever I had to in order to remain a constant in his life.

The day I sat down with him and his mom to attempt to explain the changes that were going to impact on our family was the roughest and most heart wrenching of experiences. We did take the tact of calling it (what the legal folks called it) a “trial separation” even though I’m pretty sure that both my wife and I knew it was going to be a permanent change.

I made sure that my son had a hand in selecting the apartment that I chose to move to. I assured him at every step that I was going to be there for him no matter what occurred and that he would always have a place wherever I lived.

Key West Vacation - Part IV

During the balance of the week’s stay we relaxed and took in a lot of activities that would not have been possible in any other environ.

We went for a nice long cruise on a glass bottom boat over the coral reef. This featured sipping a very well made set of Margaritas and discussing with several folks on the boat what the best margarita recipe would include. We took a lot of pictures and video to commemorate that afternoon.

We spent time at the roof top pool and bar of our hotel and every night we made our way down to Mallory square to watch the ode to the sunset ceremonies and all of the street musicians and performers that congregate there at that time of day.

We spent a lot of time relaxing on both sides of the island. We strolled through the residential areas and dined out every evening at a different eating establishment.

One of the best of these eating experiences took place at the Finnegan’s Wake Irish Pub. This was a great find and featured classic Irish and British dishes along with fine folk music in the evenings.

Another one that was very memorable was the Conch Republic Seafood Company. This restaurant was located on the gulf side of the island and had a fine view of an impressive marina where there were several catamarans that offered sunset cruises. The restaurant had a wonderful open setting that had some of the best seafood I think I had ever tasted. Having come from the New England region, we were very fussy about any type seafood chowder but this version was awesome.

All too quickly we had to say goodbye to our island paradise and head back to the northeast. It was a great break from our usual lives and I will always treasure this last vacation with my son. It remains one of those special father / son memories (at least for me.)

Travel

When younger, looking to leave the small town of my youth, I pursued many avenues.

My dreams and aspirations were intertwined with destinations and exotic locales.

Seems that I not only wanted to accomplish the goals of my dreams but, I also aspired to see a lot of the world that, for me, was only viewable on TV

or in books

and magazines.

In one of my favorite lyrics from a Harry Chapin tune: "Its got to be the going not the getting there that good." I was sure that my experiences would only be heightened by learning and doing more in all portions of the world.

Now... older

I find that the goals were worthwhile. I achieved some and as I grew up, the goals morphed and changed for a lot of very good reasons. I got opportunities to travel but, only in the confines of my native continent.

A lot of those exotic locales are still only visions that I can glimpse on TV, the Internet or in my books and periodicals.

We all experience some degree of disappointment and disillusionment in our lives. If that's the worst I suffer, it was (and is) a truly blessed life.

Shoreline Sounds

Listening to the water lap up on the shore.

I can hear the wind with the mixture of the sound of gulls

A bell. a single bell chimes probably from some fishing boat that is working

out of my line of sight

just over the horizon.

No other sounds come to my ear
I close my eyes and imagine what this shoreline beach felt like a thousand years ago

When there was no town.

No marina.

No tourists.

When there was no bell.

Key West Vacation - Part III

That first full day in the Keys was a magical day. We finished walking over to the public beach and spent some time relaxing in the tropical sun. Then we took another long, leisurely walk from the beach over to the Hemmingway museum.

Papa Hemmingway was always one of my literary heroes and even though I had seen this museum (which was essentially, the compound that served as his home for the period of his life that he spent in Key West), it served as an enjoyable few hours in our trip. My son, who had previously only been introduced to Hemmingway’s work by a short reading in his high school of the Old man in the Sea, was also suitably impressed.

While in that section of the island, we also visited the lighthouse that stood sentry over the island a couple of blocks from Papa’s home base. We then went over to the southernmost point in the USA to take pictures next to the statue that commemorated that point.

After returning to our hotel, we rested up some from all the walking. I think the exercise worked towards drying us out to some extent from the previous evening’s reverie. After a brief power nap, we arose looking for food.

I decided that we needed to move down towards Mallory Square so that my son could adequately experience his first Key West Sunset celebration.

We stopped off at my favorite place for conch fritters on the way and equipped with the food as fuel, we headed over to Mallory square.

The celebration was almost in full swing when we got there. There were several street performers. We listened to the “Sourthernmost Bagpiper”, saw a sword-swallowing act and listed to a really great (but ragged looking) Reggae singing performer. The Reggae performer timed his closing song, a stirring rendition of the old Harry Belafonte “Island in the Sun”) to coincide with the actual sunset. It was an awesome experience.

After the sunset, the area on Duval street kicked into full swing. We stopped off at Captain Tony’s for a few drinks. We of course took the opportunity to toast to Papa Hemmingway since this was truly his favorite drinking establishment, even though Sloppy Joe’s now owns the original name.

Our trip coincidentally fell during the annual festival commemorating Ernest Hemmingway’s birthday. There were a number of activities going on that evening that were involved in this occasion. We stopped in at Sloppy Joe’s later that evening to witness part of the Ernest Hemmingway look alike contest.

We did turn in rather early (for Key West traditions) that evening but, we were pretty tired.

Sanctuary

It's cold.

The world seems so cold.

We have developed a culture where most interaction with society and our fellow human beings is being disinter-mediated by machines, our cyber presence... Not "in person", face to face. Little physical interaction.

We are becoming hermits. Despite the advances in technology making travel faster and more prevalent, we are developing a culture where the travel to

see,

meet,

and work

with other people is getting discouraged.

It's too expensive.

It's too dangerous.

It's too hard.

Much better to send an e-mail, have a teleconference, use video conferencing technology... instant gratification and then disconnect,

back within the shelter of our home,

our cave,

our sanctuary.

I think man is inherently a social creature and I fear that this change in our natural patterns is causing much of the strife that the world is currently suffering from.

We are too disconnected with the pain and suffering of those that are less fortunate. It doesn't appear to be as horrible because we only see it on the flat screen TV.

We can be involved by sending a few dollars to the guy in the infomercial who says it'll help the starving kids depicted by pictures that are scrolling across the screen. They don't seem real and they certainly aren't anywere close to us.

Guess it's really not our problem but, here take a few bucks and then my conscience will be clear.

Click.

Back into the cave, the sanctuary.

Happy Birthday Elvis!!

Today, is the King of Rock and Roll’s birthday. By the king, I’m of course referring to Elvis Presley, forget about the others that have attempted to lay claim to that distinction… Elvis is, and always will be, The King. He would have become 75 years old, if he was still alive, today.

His all too brief career pretty much changed the entertainment industry in ways that were never before even considered possible.

His appeal reached out to all facets of the music industry. His influence on music is evidenced by almost all popular musical acts that have come after him.

His career spanned four decades. It was meteoric in the 1950s when the call for military service took him across the ocean and away from his fans and career at almost the pinnacle of his popularity.

When he returned from military service, the Colonel, Tom Parker, escalated and changed the direction of his career by getting him involved in the making of Hollywood films. He spent the better portion of this decade making a number of films (most while not garnering a lot of critical acclaim were entertaining and performed well at the box office). Most of these films included numerous opportunities for him to insert musical numbers or at a minimum some supporting music. Unfortunately, there was little music production outside of the movie production during this portion of his carreer.

Towards the tail end of the decade, Elvis retuned to making live musical appearances beginning with a wildly popular television special in 1968. This was called by many as his “comeback’ performance.

During the last decade of his career (and his life) his career took yet another turn. He concentrated almost exclusively on music and performing. He almost single handedly recharged the Las Vegas entertainment scene. He performed almost exclusive in Las Vegas during the 1970s foregoing the more common practice among musical performers of touring. His shows were phenomenally popular in this city famous for spectacle.

In his career, he performed in 33 successful films, made several historical television appearances and specials., sold over 1 billion records, was nominated for 14 Grammy nominations (3 wins) and was awarded the Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award.

Because he died at such a young age (42), it’s hard to imagine how he would look today. More importantly, it will always be a curiosity and speculation of what he might have accomplished and the music he might have produced had he not been taken from us back on August 16, 1977.

Key West Vacation - Part II

We checked into the hotel and did a fairly intensive pub-crawl that first night getting back to the room at around 1:00 am.

It seems my kid can drink...he held his own and was able to walk under his own steam the final block and a half after our last stop on the crawl that evening....

He had lost his capacity for intelligible speech during our stay at the third bar we went to (the world famous Sloppy Joe's) at around 10:00 pm and I believe was on auto pilot while we listened to the band at the last stop on our crawl, a club called Fogerty's, on Duval Street.

Upon waking the next day, I expected (and was not disappointed) to have a world-class hangover to contend with. Anyway, I peeled my tongue from the roof of my mouth, showered and dressed and made my way down to Starbuck's to kill time while waiting on my son to rise.

The weather was the usual gorgeous down island. I am always impressed by the beautiful combination of water, weather and easy manner in which the native folk in this city conduct their day-to-day affairs.

After finishing up with the latte, I made my way back upstairs in the hotel to see if my son had awakened yet. It turns out he was still sawing wood in his bed. I put together a note and told him I was headed down to the marina. If he woke up, he could call my cell or wander down to the marina (about three blocks from the hotel).
At the marina, I took up a position at an outdoor bar and started in with a couple of rounds of mimosas. I asked if there was any place to get food but, the barmaid said that the only place she knew that was serving breakfast was either in one of the area hotel restaurants or a small diner about three blocks over from the marina on the Gulf side of the island.

I decided to skip the solid food and go with more juice until my son could join me.

The view from the marina on this particular morning was fantastic. It was about 80 degrees at 8:00 and I knew that by noon, it was going to get pretty sticky. At that hour, there were very few folks wandering around that were true tourists. Most of them (I imagined) were either folks that decided not to go to bed, insomniacs or locals.

I enjoyed the quiet and the sunshine. The barmaid and I shared a couple of stories. Seems she was a Midwest girl initially and moved down to the islands two years ago after a vacation stay that never ended. She was the youngest of five kids and had led a pretty sheltered life back on her dad’s farm in Omaha.

When my cell phone rang, I knew it was son. He asked if I could bring him back some food and wasn’t up to facing life outside of the hotel room right now. I told him to go back to bed and that I would retrieve some caffeine and some food and bring it back to him within the next hour.

After our “breakfast”, we decided to take a walk over to the Atlantic side of the island to the large public beach and just say hi to the ocean for a few minutes. Along the way we purchased some essentials that we had forgotten to pack for the trip. Neither of us had thought to bring sunglasses or sunblock.

Key West Vacation - Part I

My son and I were on our way to a long promised trip to Key West.

Back in the mid 1990’s, I found myself between jobs and badly in need of some degree of decompression time. I managed to secure a week off between jobs and booked a trip to Key West. It was the first (and thus far the only) time that I actually did a vacation alone as an adult. My son, who was 11 years old at the time, didn’t understand why Dad wanted to take this trip without him. I was a weekend parent due to a divorce three years earlier and would always be sensitive to the absentee parent guilt trip.

I promised my son at that time that when he was old enough (meaning 21), I would take him to Key West as it was more fun to go there as an adult. My truthful assessment at the time… so, here we are a decade later and I’m making good on that long ago promise.

The first two flights went off with nary a hitch.....

Then we got to Miami....

We had a scheduled layover of just under an hour.... We picked up a bite to eat...( The orange peel and two pretzel sticks they gave us on the previous three hour flight had worn off) and proceeded to our gate ten minutes ahead of our "boarding time" - 2:45pm

We met our fellow castaways; the professor and the Howell's were there already.....

Total manifest included five passengers that were scheduled to fly out on a 9 passenger capacity stick of gum with a wing nut and rubber band serving as propulsion....

The highly efficient "chatty Cathy's" that were manning the gate podium we're engaged in a tense debate about the relative merit's of "Rosalita's Ninos...." and apparently didn't make an association that time to board the plane had come and gone. This would explain why all five of us had visited the podium with questions about the status of the flight.

The gate attendants (Chatty Cathy’s both) finally thought it best to make an announcement over the PA system. This, of course, resulted in a debate on who should make the announcement....

The scene being made all the more superfluous because all five passengers are now staring bullet holes through their skulls standing not ten feet away from the podium where this nonsensical debate was taking place.

Anyway... the story that was relayed to the passengers was that the flight was delayed because "the crew" was "tied up" in Customs.

I knew the lucky streak was bound to end at some point.

So we sat.... I did ask why the "tying up” at customs of the crew members wasn't factored into their scheduling and after a little gnashing of teeth, they added "well the flight was late getting back from Cuba."

We were then visited by three large uniformed law enforcement officers with handguns and several stern looking suits who proceeded to confer with the "Chatty Cathy's" (in Spanish of course) about the status of flight 9130.... (A small sigh of relief because our flight was 9131).

The arrival of the cops with the flaunting of high callipered weapons did create a bit more space at the podium because the five passengers all decided to back off about ten paces.
I started investigating car rental avenues at this point.

Well about an hour and a half later, the skipper and his first mate Juan and Carlos (dubious position unrevealed) were sprung from Customs and we were finally on our way to Key West.

Silence

Listening...

hoping to find in the silence some degree of direction and purpose.

The brilliant sunlight gleaming upon the new fallen snow makes for an almost dreamlike scene that is calming but it's the sound,

or rather...

the lack of sound,

that is so pronounced

at this hour.

I hear a neighbor's wind chime tinkling in the breeze.

It seems as if the chime is speaking to us...
telling us that the wind is portending that the day will be good.



The silence is slowly broken by the sound of the crisp wind combined with the sound of my heart beating in my ears denoting the passage of time.

It's too cold

For the sound of crickets
or
the sound of any running water from the nearby river.




Just the winter wind....and me