Bonded Stories, Forever

“Bonded Stories, Forever”

“It was the convergence of almost three-thousand individual stories with our own. Ours continued forward from that day. Theirs did not.

Tears, remembrances, memorials, new buildings, flags, ribbons, blogs (including this one), draped with honorable intentions, can’t mask the horror all of us experienced. Horror that most certainly – most assuredly – pales in comparison to the terror felt..

…Deep within the towers of the ill-fated….making desperate pleas for help, final calls to loved ones, and prayers for salvation.

…Deep within the hearts of men, high above in the big blue deciding when to make a life-ending decision for all aboard. Taking on the monumental charge forward, through the cockpit door, into the hands of fate, finally coming to rest in among the peaceful fields of Shanksville, Pa.

….Deep within another plane headed for the Pentagon. A five-sided fortress of military symbolism fated to be target practice for radical warriors destined to complete a mission of misguided justice. A plane. A building. Both nurturing innocence – innocence unaware of what was to come.

…Deep within the hearts of all the first responders who gave their life that day doing their job….who pushed forward in their heroism.

And then the day ended.

Our individual stories continued forward from that day. Theirs did not.

It was on that day when our moments came together, our rivers of dissent merged into one ocean of tears, and we said good-bye to almost three-thousand souls who didn’t deserve to die on that calm, sunny, beautiful September Tuesday in 2001.

We remember them. All of them. In our forward moving lives, each step we take should be a small remembrance of the steps they were not given. Each small glance to stars a reminder of the children they did not see grow up.

And each – and every – moment we feel something deep within, it is a bond forever felt with a day, a moment, a convergence of three-thousand stories with our own.”

No thanks, I’ll pass AB, see?

I added an NFL logo for effect, but this post is about one man, one ego, three football teams, and a diminishing fan base who could give two snaps about any of it anymore … including me.

Of course, it is ex-Steeler, ex-Raider, & possible Patriot Antonio Brown.

This man has abused our senses – and we’ve allowed him the pleasure. This man has tortured our airwaves and data plans with selfish clown moves – with our permission. This man has demanded respect beyond what he deserves – with the media bias fervently pushing from behind for coveted advertising bling.

By those standards, he hasn’t shown ANY qualities we want from our athletes in the NFL, or, any other professional league. Regardless whether or not AB plays another down, he’s a good example of what NOT to be.

I know he’s allegedly been tied up in legal issues apart from football. I’m almost sure there are some problems, concerns, and things going on in his life complicating the waters. I get that. Collectively, we get that. For most, though, the compassion and empathy ends at about the $50,000 mark of his multi-million dollar net worth. At that point, we tire of his antics.

So, AB, I hope your helmet fits perfectly wherever you end up …. because the protection between your head games and your non-existent fan base is quickly loosening.

Texas gold’en

Have a group of friends I’m thankful to be around a few evenings a week. We sit around odd shaped tables, eat goofy food, toodle around with funny looking things called chips, laugh, strategize (or, think we do anyway), and simply enjoy one another.

This cluster ranges in age from mid 20’s to early 90’s…..yes, I typed “early 90’s”!!…All body shapes and sizes are represented. All different skill levels, humor tolerances, appetites for deep conversations, piss-off-abilities, chip stack adeptnesses are represented as well. Overall, a fine cross section of the American experience.

And that’s why I love to play the game: Texas Hold-em.

Two in the hole, one burn, three flop, one burn, turn, one burn, river,…interspersed with calls, bets, chip stacks, pot odds, implied odds, raises, folds, reads, frustrations, joys, downs, ups, ……

Within this group, I do have a few really good friends. They are special. They are why – after working hours in the heat … on my feet – I make the effort to show up. It’s not the chips, free food, 52-assorted inanimate cards, or possible straight flush…it’s knowing my good friends will be there to pick on me a bit, support my hectic life, and let me ride the crazy train a little with them.

Most play the Texas Hold-em game. I play Texas gold-en because, to me, life can only be the game we decide it to be….and that game can’t be played alone.

How freakin’ boring would THAT be! Now, shuffle up and deal.

Taking Space

Pondering a standard computer keyboard. There’s a large number of small square keys, a much smaller number of slightly larger keys, and one significantly large, elongated key located in the center of the bottom row. We know it. Really no need to mention the name, but I have to….not doing so would render the purpose of this post useless. So, here it is: the space bar.

Odd it is the largest key. Only explanation for the size I figure, is a functional use by our thickest digit….I guess…because I don’t really know the engineering behind the design.

I’m a philosophizer, not an engineer. So, when look at a keyboard, I see possibilities beyond asdfjkl..sem (for old school folk)..Simply stated, the space bar is more a metaphor than a mechanical device…in my letter-full mind, anyway.

At present, I am thumbing away on my Samsung 5. Less keys than an old, standard clickety typewriter in a smoke filled press room, but just as functional. With the addition of an emoji option, and the deletion of number and punctuation “pads” (unless I push the arrow to switch to another keyboard), all the standard bubbles and lines exist. I still can write unlimited numbers of words. Therein lies the premise of my post.

Unlimited numbers of words using all the small squares more often than the large one across the bottom – by my estimation an average of six-to-one. Six small squares, the large one, six small, large, six, one, six, space, on….and..on…..and….

Metaphor vs function. We spend so much time and energy on the small stuff – running our thumbs around the small squares. Forming small words. Trying to put together logical sentences….headed into paragraphical forms eventually becoming chapters in our lives. Yes, in order to do this “functionally”, we necessarily must brush the large bar every sixth stroke on average. It has that function: space.

I would argue a larger function: rest. That’s why it is the largest..because it represents the largest key player in our lives. Metaphorically, it is a reminder of the importance of rest. If we don’t stop every six letters or so in our lives, each moment becomes jammed together, non-readable, nonsensical,…nonlivable.

Let us all make an effort to tap the rest bar more often. Make the space functional, livable, and breathable.

Use your words – as we like to say to our kiddos – … use them functionally well. Be precise, disciplined, and clean across the small squares. Write the story of your life … but rest along the way.

QWERTY, ASDFJKL(sem), and all your small key friends will always be at-the-ready. No need to rush.

It is the largest for a reason.

For my friend, HH

If there was a path to return back to us, our moms would not take it. We wish it was so, as they are gone from us, but they want us to have the memories.

Memories make us stronger day to day. It wasn’t their choice to leave. Absence is hard.

Memories soften the hardness. Our moms, Bonnie and Bev, keep us strong through the struggle of missing them; therefore, a return to us breaks that eternal bond we will forever have.

They know that. A path back we will take to return to them some day….

Dear Diary, today at Walmart…..

Another day shopping for the same goods … the same Saturday prep for the same Sunday flea market business. Sunday business I am so thankful- after thirteen years – earned in a field off Charger Highway in Newry, Pa.

Thanks to Walmart, I observe the same people, dazed, confused, (some) half-dressed in tightly fitted, inappropriate yoga pants, (most) wondering the same thing: “Why the hell am I here on a beautiful Satuday in September…parked 100 spaces away because of the call-in-reserve-orange-covered spaces and all the closely guarded occupied locations (spaces) heavily fortified by cars sitting in illegal lanes waiting for the apocalypse to remove said parked cars.

Anyway, I digress

Back to my observation. Inside, I noticed an older gentleman ahead of me as I walked through the snack aisle….NOT looking for snacks (although, oreos CAN be tempting) …just passing through on my way to buy Sriracha Sauce. Behind this gentle man was a slightly smaller lady- assumed to be his wife – pushing the cart. (No need to ask why SHE was pushing the cart – husband code requires such…insert sarcasm emoji here). Contents of the cart were minimal.

A series of curious, but predictable events unfolded before my eyes. Events reminiscent of my (much) earlier years as a pre-teen shopping with mom. Twinges of sadness, memories, and joy in a snack aisle are almost unheard of at Walmart. However, combine a fifty-ish year old man, an elderly couple shuffling along a food lane at Walmart, and wonderful memories of a loving mother, it’s a recipe for a good Saturday in September.

As I observed: Simply stated – as he reached for a snack on the shelf (probably knowing the answer), a silent glance back in her direction and a gentile, loving, unspoken “no” nod back communicated, to me, everything about their relationship. It happened only twice, but I suspect it’s been this way for a long time…which is why they are still side by side at Walmart…shopping together.

He shrugged his shoulders, looked at her, smiled slightly, a small twinkle from the corner of his eye probably found her heart … and they moved on.

Most if us have (or had) someone like this in our lives. I had mom. Only difference? She would have smiled and said, “Sure, put those Oreos in there … they make you happy. Enjoy!”

Sirprizes

Things happen…like misspelled words. Intentional as they may be for dramatic effect, these happenings give us a glimpse into our humanity.

Catering a small event last night, I was sirprized to find out the pastor (who was my contact) is the brother of a fine akwaintence of mine.

On the flip side of positive, none of my good friends – who promised ahead – aktuwally showed up. Seems odd because the food was offered free of charge (compliments of the host church) …. my free-loading buddies would NEVER pass up that up!….oh, wait. They did. SMH.

So, it was two hours of fun, frolic, and neat convearcasion. A night I prefer. An evening full of little sirprizes. A night when perfection waz assumed unattainable and humanity, spelling, and good friends could be exposed as fallible.

Life is full of sirprizes. Ambrace them.

Forever

  I have no idea when forever shall be,
At this moment, a fragment, or garment I see,...
...is the cloak that I, happily, joyfully don.
Raw sits my soul I rest peace now upon.
Quietly listening, I hold my own hand.
For I am my best way forward - to do what I can.
Past steps I've taken with tattered, worn lace
Have proven to be precious, forever grace.
I wear my past proudly with no shame on my breast.
My coat of honor, slaying dragons ... my quest.
It's mine solely to wear. None other than mine.
It is pure gold. The finest of fine.
If there's a forever, a time or a place
It's a paradise wardrobe with just enough space...
To fit a whoever-cloaked heart-man like me
There shall come a moment, whenever,... to be.
When splendorous galas invite such a guest.
Presented as royalty, unlike all the rest.
A merriment of many, or an intimate few?
This forever existence is my light to get through...
...All of life's moments appearing as rags -
Which all of us wear glued with expiration tags.
So, put on your cloak of "I'm me - and I'm here"...
...at this moment for YOU, there's nothing to fear.
We have no idea when forever shall be.
At this moment, a garment of grace that you see...
...is the cloak that you happily, joyfully don
"Now" is sooo possible - it's what you have on.
Wear it damn proudly - as "forever" is gold.
Grace be the hands that you forever hold.
Find your forever. Find your cloaked rest.
Be cloaked in your presence...and, above all - be blessed.