It’s the day I’ll be the exact same age as my dad when he died.
I figured out the date 10 years ago. It’s been on my work bulletin board ever since.
Now it’s less than a year away, 47 weeks to be exact.
It’s not a day to worry about, just be aware of.
Maybe I’ll take off.
Maybe I’ll go fishing at a nearby lake at the dam, a place where the turmoil of the released water churns up choppy white waters until finally slowing to a gentle roll farther downstream.
Maybe the day itself will feel like that. I don’t know.
Is it any coincidence my thyroid is acting up now? Possibly the beginning of a hypothyroid with a plausible diagnosis of Hashimoto Thyroiditis.
That’s what’s on my dad’s death certificate. The doctors tell me Hashimoto’s doesn’t cause death.
Continue reading April 4, 2024 →
Saturday I was on a mission to pick up Janet at the end of the day at a Houston airport.
I stopped to get her dinner and sat in front of the second Chick-fil-A drive through line waiting on my order.
It’s always the same, no matter where you go. They bring it out and ask your name to confirm the order while handing it to you. I say, “Thank you.” They say, “My pleasure.”
Normally, I’m itching to get it and roll on. This time though, I wanted to just sit and watch.
A guy walked out of Chick-fi-A with a coke in his hand. His pants were a size too big, his belt missed a loop or two, and his shirt peculiarly looked like it was from the 1960s.
He didn’t have on ear buds, and he wasn’t on a phone, so he was definitely talking to himself.
He stopped at the crosswalk talking away, as if an imaginary person was sitting on his shoulder. He didn’t bother looking either way. He just stepped out in the drive area, staring at the ground.
Continue reading Blue Plastic Egg →
It was a coach pitch All-Star tournament for 7 and 8 year old players. One of the grandsons was playing, so it was double fun!
But between mamas letting their little boys loose, daddies holding their tongues, and coaches reliving their Little League glory days, drama and emotion can quickly ooze into the games.
It’s usually from the coaches and parents more than the kids. Boys like the competition, but at that age, the biggest concern for most of them is what flavor of snow cone to get after the game.
And the poor umpires? They often get blasted from both sides! This day was different though. This game had a short, stocky, 40-year veteran umpire.
In the first inning, I heard him tell someone while rubbing his head that every gray hair he had was from umpiring. He winked adding, “I was 6 feet 7 inches tall when I started umpiring, but I’ve been chewed on so much over the years, I’m only 5’ 7” now! “
Continue reading Ump →
It’s tedious. Removing calcium deposits from pool tile at the water line.
Our pool’s never been cleaned, so three tiles at the water line had to be scraped and scrubbed.
Doing a 20 by 40 foot pool with a hand scraper is like an ant sized dental hygienist cleaning your teeth.
A pumice stone polishes off the remnants, but that hard crusty stuff, it only comes off with scrapes, scratches and scrubs.
Continue reading Reprise →
Once upon a time there was an explosion in a junkyard.
It all started with increasing nitrogen gases expelled from overheating debris in the hot summer sun.
It was epic! One of a kind! Never to be duplicated!
I can’t prove it, so just trust me, it was the PERFECT storm to create such a powerful explosion!
Continue reading Junkyard Explosion →
Someone posted our high school class picture from 40 years ago!
Forty. Years. Ago!
That’s how long Moses and the Israelites wandered in the wilderness!
A little over 300 of us, all in purple gowns, grabbed a diploma, walked across the stage, and waltzed into life.
When we graduated 40 years ago — Ronald Reagan was fresh on the job, the space shuttle had just made its maiden voyage, a new disease called AIDS would be announced two weeks after graduation, and two months after that, IBM would introduce something called a “personal computer”.
A lot has changed.
With the unbridled power of technology and social media, it’s been fun to “reconnect” with some I haven’t seen since graduation day.
Continue reading Forty Years Ago →
I found an old journal I wrote in college, one I haven’t read in years. Page by page, I re-introduced me to myself from things penciled years ago.
Below is a story that flooded back to memory. It was in a college town two days after graduation, 36 years ago today. I was staying the summer to work two jobs in town while almost every other college student moved back home.
Here’s my journal entry from Monday, May 20, 1985:
Continue reading May 20, 1985 →
Dear Addie K,
You burst into life a year and half ago! At first, we loved you solely on whose you were, but now we love you because of who you are. Your first 1 1/2 years of life have gone by way too fast!
Life is like that. Before you know it, you’ll be looking back and remembering in sepia toned colors.
Seek wisdom, Addie. When you look back, you’ll smile at the vibrant, bright memories that wisdom can bring!
Continue reading Dear Addie K, →
My mind turns, twists, moves and churns. Earthquakes of urgent thoughts turn into raging thought tsunamis.
It’s not what isn ‘t. It’s what is.
What’s isn’t, isn’t talked about. What is, is.
Raging waters flow uphill, gather speed, then dribble down the mind’s mountainside spilling into the deepest depths, depths that do not surrender the issues of thought, whether forgotten or taught, surrendered or caught, given or bought.
Words sound large, but quiet speaks loud. Its silence heals. The healing rest, the energizing of silence slips away in our loud, boisterous, information-based system of living. Yet the need to be still and hear the leaves rustle remains, even when it’s pushed aside.
Continue reading The Mind Churn →
From the time I was a seedling, I wanted to be something worthwhile. Every day I stretched higher, farther, reaching for the sun to bathe my leaves in life giving photosynthesis.
My life in the forest ended when soldiers wearing helmets, red cloaks and armor cut me down.
I hoped the soldiers would form me into an honorable, useful item, like a fine chair, magnificent bed, or maybe a grand formal dining table. I would’ve even been satisfied to be a powerful support post in a house or mansion holding it all up.
Instead, their axes hacked me into a long, rough beam. Still, I hoped.
They loaded me in a wagon and hauled me to a city. There they cut off a smaller beam from my top, notched a side to fit over the beam, and secured my pieces with long spikes and rope.
Continue reading Cross Talk →