Head-dibs

Drink a toast to innocence, Drink a toast to now; Drink a toast to memory, Drink a toast to time.

  Shadows are wonderful and strange things. The tiny human being who discovers it for the very first time has found a mysterious friend who plays hide and seek in the light and dark, suffering from Peter Pan envy. It is the unlit sibling to the reflection and the refracted rainbows that dance on the wall. It is the traveling companion of the gaily bedighted knight on his way to Eldorado. The dark mystery of the shadow deepens, for its looming presence can be stifling. This shadow falls on the heart as hope diminishes, Eldorado falling further away with every approaching step. When darkness falls in darkness, it smothers, scattering gloom deep as Dickens’ last spirit. The knight addresses the figure seeking answers, not of “why” as in “why this cloud of unknowing,” (why is this happening to me?) but “where can it be, this land of Eldorado?” One can imagine how the hooded and unseen face of depression is taken by surprise. The answer echoes from the darkness, compelled by the insatiable

 

  In the introduction to his March 4, 1933 Inaugural Address, Franklin Delano Roosevelt said, “Let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself--nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance." While we share “common difficulties . . . our distress comes from no failure of substance. We are stricken by no plague of locusts. Compared with the perils which our forefathers conquered because they believed and were not afraid, we have still much to be thankful for.”  I daily encounter people who are driven by fear. They are “meddling, ungrateful, arrogant, dishonest, jealous, and surly.” Marcus Aurelius says people are like this because they can’t tell good from evil. Roosevelt is right: It is unjustified to behave this way and we have more than enough, so what’s the problem? The source of fear must lie in another realm, where we can easily be our own worst enemy. Our task is to show people what is

 

  “Although well used to ghostly company by this time, Scrooge feared the silent shape so much that his legs trembled beneath him, and he found that he could hardly stand when he prepared to follow it. The Spirit paused a moment, as observing his condition, and giving him time to recover. . . .   ‘Ghost of the Future!’ he exclaimed, ‘I fear you more than any spectre I have seen. But, as I know your purpose is to do me good, and as I hope to live to be another man from what I was, I am prepared to bear you company, and do it with a thankful heart. Will you not speak to me?’ It gave him no reply. The hand was pointed straight before them. ‘Lead on!’ said Scrooge. ‘Lead on! The night is waning fast, and it is precious time to me, I know. Lead on, Spirit!’” (“The Last of the Spirits,” A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens)

I was a young adult when I began to grasp numbers and the workings of math. It’s a downright miracle that I passed any grade at school. I memorized tables and practiced formulas, but it made little sense. The manipulations of 1, 2, 3, 4, etc were, and still are abstract to me. They are symbols, representations of sets. I can’t recall that anyone made sense of it until I entered an Introduction To Math class in college. We did not handle numbers until the last few weeks of the course. We studied logic, sets and subsets. My light bulb might be on a dimmer switch, but it did come on. It all made sense! The teacher understood that some people see differently. You might have no difficulty with math, but I guarantee you struggle with something else. Just because you understand does not mean the one who does not understand is less than you. Have patience with those you teach or lead. One may regurgitate what has been memorized, but that does not mean one understands. It only demonstrates one

  How many times have you done something you did not want to do? It’s easy to do what we plan to do, or like to do. We do things we do not want to do only because those things must be done, as a matter of responsibility, and because we did not plan or like it, it’s easier not to like it, so we make it difficult for ourselves.   Nobody likes to sit in a traffic jam. We suddenly become late for an appointment, late to work, late for a movie. But what is the cause of the problem? A horrible accident? An overpass sign fell off its scaffold and crashed into the highway below? Construction work? Two of those three options are unavoidable. The last one is. So why complain? Take advantage of the new-found time you always wished you had! Smell those roses! Upset that your flight is 15 minutes, 30 minutes, late? In some parts of the world, flights are every other day, or less. Is your train a few minutes late? The guy who fell on the tracks might be relieved! Getting upset or angry at a situatio

  For years we visited family in for Thanksgiving or Christmas celebrations. On one visit the house was full, and the only place remaining for two boys (my oldest cousin and myself) to sleep was . . . The breakfast room, right next to the kitchen. That was a mistake.   Two sleepless boys + insatiable grumbling bellies + love for chocolate. . . Are those BonBons? Bourbon Balls, you say? Don’t mind if I do! Ssshhhhh! Hahahaha! Brownies, cookies, fudge—it did not matter. Nothing was safe. Tins were opened, plastic was peeled back, crumbs were made. Every dessert had been invaded—except the pie. That would be too obvious. Fruit? Shoot! Hand me another cookie! Then came the morning. . .

The sun rises on a foggy morning. Thick as pea soup, as they would say, outside. Going to be a long, slow drive today. As the sun begins to rise, it will eventually burn off. Yet, a few short miles down the road, the air is clear as a bell.   A couple of years ago we were driving through the mountains of North Carolina. The fog was so thick that we could no longer see the road and could barely see the end of the hood of the car. That’s what it dawned on us. We were no longer in the fog, but in the actual clouds. It was a very dangerous situation as there was no shoulder on which to side, and all we could do was hope no vehicles ascended behind us, or descending from above us. All we knew was that we could see absolutely nothing and it was imperative to keep creeping forward to safety.  Every morning, I wake in a fog of sorts, and it takes a long time to lift. Since life as I knew it is now tipped on its head (example: I am no longer a morning person) my fogginess doesn’t begin to lift

  50 years is a long time to live in one house. Memories abide at every glance. It’s not easy to leave.   Just inside the threshold on the floor is the worn spot made by dad’s heavy foot from when he stepped through the door, home from work. The kitchen cabinet knobs shine from the light scratches of mom’s rings. The steps into the basement tell of countless trudges of moving Christmas decorations, luggage and backpacks in and out of storage. Dad’s tool chest parked down there eventually became home to brother’s tools. Remember when the basement was a roller rink? Ages are forever etched into the kitchen doorframe, arranged in height-order. The chain of the built-in writing desk drawer etched a ghostly half-moon from constant opening and closing. Under sister’s window outside is the scuff mark from when she snuck out that night. Pencilled into the back bedroom wall, under paint and wallpaper lies a declaration of undying love. I forgot all about those Knick-nacks! Who put them them up

Do you struggle to get out of bed each morning? I know you do, so keep reading :) you are not alone.   I am a great admirer of Marcus Aurelius for the simple fact that he was transparent. He was an emperor of Rome, and though he did not want to be, turned out to be one of the greatest of the five emperors who were actually good. He was also a philosopher, and as a part of his regular practice, he kept a journal where we can see how he worked to be the better man.   When he wrote, he didn’t intend to be read by anyone else, much less published. He wrote for himself, to himself. Most of what he wrote might be comparable to sticky note reminders to himself. And he did not hold back in his thoughts. He did not write to vent, but to address what he needed to change in himself. Here’s a sample of a conversation he had with himself, Emperor to Emperor, about getting up in the morning (Book 5, “Meditations”): “At dawn, when you have trouble getting out of bed, tell yourself: ‘I have to go to w

I don’t mind cleaning but often I’d rather be doing something else. I’m sure this rings true for most people. We presently have more tools available to help with the chores, but they cannot work by themselves. For example, we can churn through laundry, as the machine does the heavy lifting, but the laundry doesn’t separate or put itself away. Same with the dishes, for the most part.  There’s something about doing the dishes. Not sure what it is, except maybe force of habit. I don’t mind doing the dishes. Give me the choice between doing yard work and the dishes, I’ll choose dishes. Might be because I can’t do yard work like I used to—help in that department is always appreciated—I’d rather be up to my elbows in suds.  My, how chores differ for each of us. I have friends who are ranchers and I tip my hat to what they accomplish with crops and fields, herds and flocks. The work never ends! Then there are those whose very survival depends on getting their chores done, like gathering and c

  I recently came across a writing exercise that says, “Open up a dictionary to a random word. Define what that word means to you.” If my brain or a bicycle, this would be a stick in my spokes. I cringe when I hear that question, “what does it mean to you?” One distinct feature about words is that they have meaning. And we agree on that meaning. God created with words, and in The Word of God, the Logos, all things are held together. Man, being made in God’s image, are creative with words. So while I’m comfortable with a thought, that we use words to communicate, and so fulfill what it needs to be made in God’s image, it’s a nerving to take a defined word and generate a new definition.  Here is an extreme example of dangers of using, “what does it mean to you?” I have in my pocket one dollar but now I choose to redefine it, because to me it’s five dollars. The example is ridiculous, but then, so is the idea that anything can be redefined. And we are surrounded by people doing this every

  I started to make a list of “10 Things I Can’t Do Without” and realized, “gosh, that’s a lot!” I feel like a jerk.   Then I think about what I’d like to work on or change and the list is already made! Except for eating and sleeping, nothing on my list is necessary for survival. Circumstances might demand missing one or more for a while, but my survival is not threatened without them. Someone said that when a suggestion comes to mind, a wish or desire, acknowledging its presence is enough. Especially if it compromises virtue. You don’t need it. It is non-essential. Comforts and pleasures are mistaken as necessity. Besides, there are people who have much less than you do, right here in these United States. Everyday things, like water, food, clothes.  On Friday afternoons through the window of my high school classroom, I watched families line up for their weekly water. When I visited Africa, I was shocked to learn the average monthly income was $50.00. The guy across the street from me

  Technology eavesdrops. Every phone listens. Alexa always seems ready to break in on a conversation. We can be comfortable in our own homes when suddenly that voice in the box interrupts, wanting to know if we need more information or engage some activity. If we did any of these things in a course of a normal conversation, that would be considered rude and intrusive. But we live with it. Let’s face it: we’re apathetic. Conditioned. Then there are those individuals who are constantly on the phone. And let me state the obvious, that they are on speakerphone. Whether it be in the store and a place of business, it doesn’t seem to matter—yelling into a speakerphone presents itself as a poor symbol of status. One never knows when an individual is on the phone even if there is no talking. I’ve seen people carrying on a normal routine and then suddenly they’re talking to somebody who’s been there listening the whole time. It’s unnerving. 

 

  As a young boy growing up in Houston, we made many trips to my grandparents house in East Texas. This was back in the day a small child could make a long road trip in the car, falling asleep, comfortably up in the back window behind the passenger seat or on the floorboard at your mothers feet. The trip usually took around six hours and since we often left after school that out, we were usually arrive late at night. It was not uncommon for me to sleep most of the trip and wake up with a familiar turns of the last few hundred yards approaching my grandparents house. They lived on the outskirts of a one stoplight down in East Texas, near Lake of the Pines. My grandmother was a very careful and caring woman who’s watchful eye was mostly driven by a fear that something would happen to me. Since that area is generally known as The Big Thicket of Texas, it was not uncommon for people to get lost in the forest. I don’t think I fully understood the implications of getting lost until I heard s

  I believe in dragons. Between the Big Dipper and the Little Dipper in the northern sky slides the constellation Draco, The Serpent. That’s all the word “dragon” really means, “serpent.” The word has been used for centuries on centuries in the same way we use the word “dinosaur” to describe the same and similar beasts. So I believe in them.   The image is striking, for it connotes a fearful beast and the most selfish one. The Bible speaks of dragons or sea monsters more than 20 times, and some of those uses refer to specific persons. Behemoth and Leviathan and in Job 40-41 describe terrible beasts that give us pause. But there are more horrible monsters still.  A podcast by Malcolm Gladwell called “Dragon Psychology 101” made me realize how dragons are hoarders. Tolkien understood this well in giving us Smaug. Then I realized that, at the time I heard the podcast, I was working for one! Strange how everything about him fits the image. He’s an old, sly, conniving, stock-piling consumer

Friends and fiends, friends and enemies. The wordplay is fascinating in Old English. The friend is free, compelled, bound by love while the fiend, the enemy, is captive, burdened, consumed by not-love.   Scottish philosopher Thomas Carlyle wrote of his fellow Scot, the poet Thomas Campbell, “I could have loved him, but he seemed to have forgotten how to love." Friendship is unconditional and is frequently tested by loyalty. When you make a mistake, large or small, the one(s) who remain are friends. Be not surprised when there are few. “A friend lives at all times but a brother is born for adversity.” (Proverbs 17:17)  Friends check in on one another asking, “how’s your soul?” Seneca wrote to Lucillus, “if you consider any man a friend whom you do not trust as you trust yourself, you are mightily mistaken and you do not sufficiently understand what true friendship means.” (Letter 3, On Friendship).  “False friendship is the worst. Avoid it at all costs. If you’re honest and straigh

  If one were to write on an animal, one would be hard-pressed to choose one on which to write. One might simply write on one’s favorite animal, but to do so is challenging for the poor critter won’t hold still long enough to draft as much as a sentence, for he will be agitated at the constant poking of my pen. Joking aside, if one more to write about an animal, one would be inclined to comment on the giraffe. The second runner up would be the platypus.   Charles Darwin held the opinion that the giraffe only has the long neck because the animal was the champion of natural selection. In other words, over the course of time the giraffe gained advantage over animals with much shorter necks in the race to reach food. Gary Larson illustrated his theory (below). I have so many questions. In the race for food, how did the species not die of starvation? Was the tongue already developed to be tactile for harvesting before or after the neck elongated? If a stronger circulatory system is required

  What goes on behind closed eyes? Whatever it is, it’s strange. Dreams are places you live another life. For example, at that place between asleep and awake, there is a sudden flash of understanding, then it’s gone. That place is called Never-never Land. Some people remember their dreams, few are inspired by them. But dreams are not relegated to sleep except by common usage. Dreams are synonymous with thoughts, ideas. I can’t say I’ve fallen out of bed inspired to do much except check the plumbing, but I’ve had ideas.   Once, while still in my single digits, I made a Monster-Kicker. The idea came to me after unwelcome monsters that snuck through my door while I slept. Necessity is the mother of invention, after all. A boot mounted to the end of a stick was affixed on a hinge. The contraption activated by a pulled string tied to the doorknob. When the door opened, the intruder would be subsequently booted back into the hallway. Well, that’s how it was supposed to work, anyway. One drea

In the course of a lifetime, exploratory craft have barely cleared the solar system, which is adrift in the great fiery wheel of our galaxy. If the number of stars are uncountable, how much more are the number of galaxies? It’s both terrifying and beautiful. The immensity of the Universe only underscores how small we are. Yet, it’s where we live.   Since we are small, how much smaller are the things that trouble us? We are made for each other, not in spite of one another. “That fewer still, in public affairs, act to the good of mankind.” (Benj. Franklin) Despite all that space we have to spread out, this little planet is all we are given on which to thrive. Marvel in it, marvel at it, but be grateful for what (and who) you have. Nothing is resolved by strife. Next time someone asks you where you are from or where you live, simply say, “I’m your neighbor.”

The first birthday party I remember was when I turned six. I remember there were kids everywhere playing on the backyard jungle gym. Of course this was long before jungle gyms were made with the same kind of safety measures as today so it’s a wonder than any of us survived.   The party was on our covered back porch, and I distinctly remember the large rectangular birthday cake. There was a cowboy on it with big brown boots. Moms in their beehive hairdo’s shepherded children through party games while dads talked, supervising. All we wanted was the cake. Being that my birthday is in mid May we had plenty of grass to play on under the large, shady oak. I don’t remember if there were any specific games although I do remember presents. Part of me wants to remember that I had gotten a record player for my birthday but I’m not 100% sure. The most important thing I remember were friends, family, and laughter. Those are what make the best birthday. (Artwork created by AI)

Every day at the hotel, I meet at least a dozen people (sometimes as many as 30) for the very first time. Sure, I’ll see some familiar faces in the mix, some repeat customers, and am able to call few by name but for the most part, most people I meet are complete and total strangers. Most are driving the corridor from Ontario or Ohio to Florida, or the reverse. This time of year, the snowbirds are migrating south.   For the most part, people are pleasant to meet but there are some who are up to no good. The pot-heads announce their presence by smell before they walk through the door. The gangstas are quick about business, scooping up their key and out the door before the pen hits the countertop. Few will check in then check out a couple hours later. “No refunds, not sorry!” One recent meeting stands out. A young lady came into the hotel, her face touched up with makeup just enough to be presentable. She seem to be a little rushed and would not make eye contact. As I worked on her regist

  How did breakfast become the favorite meal of the day? Specifically, eggs, toast or biscuits, hash browns or grits, pancakes or waffles, cereal or oatmeal or cream of wheat, sausage or bacon, some kind of hash and every combination applied thereunto.   Breakfast isn’t just for breakfast anymore. Is it the ease of cooking? The most satisfying to the senses? Goes best with coffee? Restaurants who keep breakfasts on the menu seem to thrive more. Why is that? Literature might contain more references to breakfast than any other meal, though last suppers seem to bear the deepest meaning. Hemingway sends the Old Man to sea after breakfast. Tolkien favored breakfast with his characters enjoying a daily “second breakfast.” While the egg is an ancient symbol of new life, in 1921, Sherwood Anderson used it to picture the struggle of life, even a weapon, a missile launched in frustration.   Any time of day, breakfast wins. The smell of bacon, the sizzle of sausage, the warmth of the kitchen, alw

 

  “WHEN icicles hang by the wall, And Dick the shepherd blows his nail, And Tom bears logs into the hall, And milk comes frozen home in pail, When blood is nipp’d and ways be foul, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-who; Tu-whit, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. WHEN all aloud the wind doth blow, And coughing drowns the parson’s saw, And birds sit brooding in the snow, And Marian’s nose looks red and raw, When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-who; Tu-whit, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.” (Act 5, Scene 2 of Shakespeare’s “Love’s Labour’s Lost”)

  When I was a teen and well into orchestral training, an album was given to me that would be wonderful to find once again. I believe it was called,     “The Compleat Dancing Master.” [sic] It is no longer available, as far as I am able to discover. It was a collection (as I recall) of Renaissance English Country Dance tunes (fiddles, lutes, pipes, guitar, etc).   When I was a teen and well into orchestral training, an album was given to me that would be wonderful to find once again. I believe it was called,    “The Compleat Dancing Master.” [sic] It is no longer available, as far as I am able to discover. It was a collection (as I recall) of Renaissance English Country Dance tunes (fiddles, lutes, pipes, guitar, etc).  One track in that collection that stood out as a dance tune faded, was this spoken piece attributed to William Prynne, Archbishop of Canterbury from 1633-1645. The deep, solemn voice orated:  “Dancing, is, for the most part, attended with many amorous smiles, wanton com

  I’ve been trying to think of the kind of vessel you n which I would like to journey that would take me to a place I’ve never been before. There are two places I can think of that are at extremes. The first is in the deepest ocean and a second is anywhere in space. Now anyone who knows me knows how much I enjoy science fiction and might enjoy visiting any one of those places, but truth be told I cannot think of a vessel that would be conducive to an enjoyable trip. See, I don’t like small, cramped spaces. One of my favorite stories is a short story by Ray Bradbury. It’s called “Kaleidoscope”. The story begins with a rocket ship, having exploded, sending its occupants floating away from one another into the far reaches a space. The bulk of the story captures their final conversation as a drift away from one another. For me, the horror is not in being trapped in a suit from certain, it would not take long for that sensation to go away. The horror for me is inability to not fully stand u

  The next few weeks I will be consulting a list of writing prompts to use as springboards. The last couple of years have been difficult in more ways to tell and a few things I once enjoyed have fallen by the wayside, writing being one of them. So as I follow these prompts, posts will be random in topic, as demonstrated in the last two.   Some posts may be commentary, some instructional, some imaginative, even speculative, respectively. I am challenging myself not to skip, but to work straight through the spring boards in their own published sequence. It’s not about generating content. It’s about strengthening a muscle. It’s about rekindling a flame. It’s about stretching the imagination, which has real world applications in matters such as problem-solving. My goal is to write in the style of NaNoWriMo; that is to write spontaneously with as little editing as possible, even if that means filling up at least two pages a day of absolute crap (to be clear I endeavor to write at least one