family

moms and orbits

Orbits Metaphorically

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Earlier, when I got out of bed I thought to myself that this would be a good day to ride my bike. I will still do that but as I freshened up and ate breakfast and exchanged a few short text messages with Debbie I became more contemplative.

Today I write first, bike later. Originally when I started this essay I did not know where it was going. My mind went to the pleasantness of yesterday. Here comes a cosmic twist on family dynamics.

Yesterday was interesting. Debbie and I went to lunch and afterwards looked for a couple of books in the bookstore. Afterward I took her back home because she had another gathering to go to in the late afternoon. We spent about an hour or so in her living room talking with two of her children. It seems as though they’re becoming more comfortable with my presence. Her kids have her as the center of their life sphere. I suppose that’s both good and bad. She is the center of their existence, at least, these days anyway. The youngest one may have a hard time breaking free from orbit and the older one will probably be fine. It is merely that she is going through a rough patch in her life.

Life moves on. As parents we help where we can. It is much harder to back away when we need to. It is a delicate balance. It is a lot of little things. I can remember in my own life that my father was resistant to me buying lunch even though at the time he was retired and I was gainfully employed. In the particular instance I am thinking about I had to wrestle the check away from him. Later I let him pay. As often as I might visit mom and dad in their later years I was always their little boy. It seems to me that that never really changes.

Even now when I think about my life without Cheryl, without my parents, without my brother, without my youngest sister, it is easy for me to perceive of myself as someone smaller or younger than I actually am. When my Mom was at the end of her life sometimes she would say to me, I need a mother. I think it was her way of saying to me she didn’t really want to be in charge of it all anymore. That is a mother’s job being in charge of it all. Even when mothers do not think they are in charge, they are in charge. That must be why kids gravitate towards them even later in life when they are older in their 60s. Their 90 year old mother is still in charge. Mothers are the core of the family.

I am beginning to understand what Mom meant. Admitting to myself that I don’t know what I don’t know can be terrifying. When Mom was here I could ask her. Even today there are things that I wish I could ask her about. Some days I think I have forgotten how independent she made me. She was good at that.

And yesterday as I observed Debbie interacting with her kids I realized how good Debbie is at that. She is the center of their universe. Eventually everyone fires their engines up and leaves orbit.

The universe is unfolding as it should. It is a big scary place, made less so, so long as the home planet can be returned to for a visit.

Carpe Diem.

Connections and Disconnections

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Mike has passed away, as polite or timid people say. I did not know him well. We had mutual employment at an old line Cincinnati company many years ago. I ran into him later on in life at some family gathering. He was married to the sister of my sister-in-law through marriage to my deceased wife’s brother. A third order connection to be sure but nevertheless I had known him in life. And I had known that he was dying. His death was unreported through whatever little grapevine I have left.

I felt an odd feeling of disconnectedness.

A couple of years ago I learned of my aunt’s death from the U. S. postal service. Not in the way that you might imagine. The USPS told me by returning my Christmas card that I had sent the previous December. The card returned sometime in March.

I remember feeling not anger but a disconnectedness. Perhaps a year or two previously I had called the only number I had to report the death of my mother to her only surviving sister. Aunt Ruth’s daughter my cousin Jean answered the phone. We had not talked to each other since childhood so I explained who I was and what I wanted to tell Aunt Ruth. (Maybe I had a little anger. I reached out to the west to report Mom’s death.) It was about a year and a half later that the postal service made their report to me.

I have thought about this disconnectedness that occurs in families before. There are many causes; distance both physical and mental, disinterest, religion, age, death.

When Mom was still alive and still moving around pretty good, I asked if she would like to go visit her sister Ruth. Aunt Ruth lived in Las Cruses New Mexico and they had lived there for a long time. She had met my Uncle Dick when they were both in the service. Uncle Dick had, among other duties, flown helicopters in Vietnam. They settled in New Mexico after he left the service. Mom and Dad had visited with them in a past life after I had moved out of their house and moved into our house with Cheryl.

Mom entertained that idea for a minute or so and replied no. I said, “Mom, what if I called her on the phone?” No. I did not press the plan. (Disinterest, distance)

Family connection would have possibly helped with the feeling of disconnectedness that I felt when Aunt Ruth’s card returned. I doubt that I would have mailed a card had I known of her death.

Family connection would have gone a long way towards removing the embarrassing, to me anyway, question of; Hey! I knew Mike was very ill. Did he die? (Not asked very well but how does one ask such a sad question?)

For a few months off and on after Aunt Ruth’s card returned I questioned my sister and poked around on social media and other ways of searching out information that did not require joining 23andMe. I was looking for connection to Aunt Ruth’s remaining daughters, my cousins.

Although I did spend money with one of those find anybody anywhere services, nothing came of it other than me forgetting to unsignup after the free trial period. Unilateral family connection is tiring and the lopsidedness of it is not satisfying.

Our church gave away these Easter books to hopefully enliven the catholicity of the parishes as they grow smaller. I admit that I am not the best Catholic. I fact I think of myself as a kind of Buddhist catholic who selects much of the spirituality but is uninterested in the rigor and seemingly arbitrary structure. I am still searching. For what I am searching, I am unsure but hope and optimism are more satisfying than longing and despair. Yesterday this little tome revealed itself amid the pile of books near my nesting spot in the living area. I opened it in the middle at random and this heading, “Love Rearranges Our Priorities” said – Read me. Read me!

It starts this way, “Have you ever noticed that when people fall in love, their priorities change? If a close friend falls in love, you will probably notice that she has less time to spend with you because her priority is to spend more time with her love interest. It is not personal. It is natural and normal. Why? Love rearranges our priorities. And our priorities reveal who and what we love.” The rest of the paragraphs wander off and talk about more churchy ideas but this first paragraph describes the whole lesson – love arranges our priorities.

I think the disconnectedness I feel is more aptly described as love’s focus is forward toward new connections. My priority is my new connection with Debbie. (The physics metaphor is – for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.) For every new connection there is a mostly equal disconnection. Or that is my newly philosophized personal canon. The rest of that thought is the mostly equal disconnection is unknown when the new connection is established. (I will need some time to wade though where those thoughts are taking me.)

Connections and interconnections within and without family groups are complicated. They are both weak and strong, sweet and savory, smooth and bumpy, happy and sad, multifaceted and lopsided. There is an odd disconnectedness feeling that I feel with Cheryl’s family. I feel a strong connectedness to my sister as we are the last of our core group. We are all very different in our abilities to connect and maintain those connections. I feel a strong connectedness with Debbie so much so that I ask her questions about her kiddos and her day and how she feels about this, what does she think about that. I have even reached out directly to her daughter (who is dealing with a never ending undiagnosable malady) for an update. That is either nosy or connection – the jury is still out.

Personal connection is not replaced by digital connection.

Looking forward and glancing in the rear view mirror is something I do consistently when I am riding my bicycle down the trail. It is or should be a metaphor for connecting down the trail of life.

Carpe Diem.

Ted Lasso

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I really do hate admitting that Debbie is right. It is a feeling that I do not think is unique to her. I felt the same towards Cheryl. It seems a man thing to me.

She told me that I would like Ted Lasso. I think I was resistant on principle. It had little to do with the actual show. Just the fact that she said you are going to like it, made me resistant. She is right. Streaming it is better because I can keep watching episodes while doing less interesting duties such as laundry.

When Cheryl was still alive and home with me I tended to bury my day with a lot of chores that come with taking care of a person with ill health. Now that it is just me those chores are easy to ignore for longer. There are less of them. That is another fact of me, myself and I. There are some days when I have less get up and go, less vim and vigor, less energy.

Ted Lasso reminds me of Mom and her “Monday, bloody Monday” attitude about the first christian working day in the week. His wild enthusiasm starting the morning is incredible to those around him. He can be too much and at the same time infectious. He also does not allow others to help him. It is an infectious show. Ted is able to help and influence all of those around him.

But that is not the story here. Ted Lasso is a metaphor for us all. In his world there is happiness, sadness, love revenge, vindictiveness, ego, ambivalence, scurrilousness maybe a little unscrupulousness tossed in to balance the spices. About a year ago, a few months after Cheryl’s soul left her body, I was feeling a little better. I bought a new bike and started riding it in earnest. It got me out of the condo and into the sunshine. I spent 3 – 4 days a week riding the Little Miami Trail. I put my bike on the back of the car and kept it there. In my mind maybe a trail would pop up and I would ride it. That “go ride at a moments notice” became my occupation and passion. It took over the emptiness I felt from Cheryl’s moving on.

In October of last year I met a woman because of a mutual acquaintance with a friend from church. Lately we have been having an off-the-wall discussion about what to call our relationship. My cousin likes the term Life Partner which although descriptive is less so in our case. Labels are interesting in their implications.

This Spring and almost summer season is not cooperating weather-wise and I have not ridden as much as I would like. So, I have filled several empty hours thinking about Debbie and where we are going. It is a recurring thought theme. That particular thought thread strings my thoughts into what is my purpose? I imagine most older adults think about this issue.

I do not spend much time with it. Sitting here at my desk writing, there is a copy of Cheryl’s picture that was published in the newspaper as a part of news of our engagement. She is a beautiful young woman in that picture. The photographer did a great job of posing and lighting her face.

I wonder how she is doing. Ted Lasso reminds me that there are somethings that cannot be known.

Carpe Diem.

Kilo 8 Kilo Bravo Kilo

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Yesterday as I spent time paying bills electronically a conformation code from my bank began with KBK. It made me think about my older and only brother.

When I was much much younger, fourteen to be precise, I took all the testing and successfully received an amateur radio license. My brother Bill had achieved that many years prior. His call sign was K8KBK or as he often said, and I can still hear his voice, kilo number eight kilo bravo kilo. Dad was also a ham radio operator. His call sign was K8JZA. With my success I became WA8PRQ.

It is interesting to me how earlier experiences in life influence situations later in life. Early analog radio communication was often full of scratchy static and in order to clarify that communication a mnemonic was added after the original series of letters.

“Hello, CQ, Hello CQ, this is K-8-K-B-K, kilo number eight, kilo, bravo, kilo.” This is a request for contact of a non-emergency nature. CQ is Morse code shorthand for: calling all stations that are able to hear me. Ham radio folks just like to yak a lot. I used to have a key much like the picture. I could not get proficient with the dual key. We had one but I did not like it. I could do about 15 words a minute with this J38 style. Those days are other memories.

To this day, if I see WTF in a text message, in my head, I translate that to Whiskey Tango Foxtrot. Other leftovers from my Morse code days include TNX for thanks. Text messages from young people are often full of cryptic hieroglyphic-like emoticons and pictures of vegetables. The old Egyptians would be proud.

My ham radio days with Dad appeared in my head last summer while wandering through my time without Cheryl and wondering what to do with my time. I thought to develop old interests and maybe make new friends. Something that I was looking at caused the Facebook lunacy checker to send me a teaser about the American Radio Relay League (ARRL) and memories from teenagerhood came flooding into my head about QSL cards, Field Days, portable communications, hidden transmitter hunts and the Oh-Ky-In clubhouse which is now part of the I-275 loop around Cincinnati.

The memories are numerous and fond. I got excited and sent them money to get the current books to study up get a license back which made me wonder if I could get my original call sign back. I have not found that out, yet. When the books turned up a week or so later, I wondered what I was thinking about when I ordered them.

Life is like that when your anchor gets disconnected from the chain as mine was. The summer moved on and so did I. The books look good on the shelf next to other technical references of greater but passing interest. Once an engineer, always an engineer.

Cheryl was not interested in any of that but she was if I was. These days I write and read and read and write and wonder if I will ever get certain students to understand certain engineering topics and translate a control diagram into a physical circuit (that works.) I have over time morphed into an instructor at a community college near me. It has become over time either more of an interest or less of an interest depending upon which day. Life is full of ups and downs.

I think I have found a new anchor, a person to be with, a listener, a friend, a place to feel comfortable and home.

We read and I write and we text and we talk. She teaches me the meaning of various glyphs (emojis). She admonishes me for the incorrect use of other glyphs. We have fun and enjoy each other’s company.

I think I have mentioned that before in other posts here.

I have fond memories of my earlier days. It has taken this past year and a few strategic moves and removals for me to mainly think about the great times in my life.

Reminders of recent sad times are still here and there. They are just not in the front row any longer.

Carpe Diem.

Is This Fly Shit or is it Pepper?

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Is this fly shit or is it pepper?

And old friend and I used to have this discussion after various business meetings. His point was always shrouded in “Is this important or is this merely seasoning?” I for one was enthralled with that question (fly feces or seasoning) and the comparison itself. Both seemed important to me but for different reasons. Both were good metaphors for events as they about to or were happen(ing).

Fly shit seems like something that you would not want in your food and one might strive to determine which specks were those, so that, they could be removed. If you are focused on the fly poop you probably will not enjoy your meal. I posit that one might not taste their meal simply due to a narrow focus on insignificant droppings. One might also choose to only eat white foods and season them after close inspection. One might only use salt to season their food.

I think that is a boring way to eat. Salty meringue seems less than satisfactory, maybe even, unfortunate. To me that seems, also, a boring way to live life.

The universe is full of specks. Many of which are there for an intended purpose. Many are there merely for seasoning but even the fecal matter matters. Sometimes flys will land on the carrots or broccoli.

Looking backward through life I see a lot of pepper and other spices. I know that there are other things that do not fit that category with exactness. I do not focus on those. I do not look back with sadness and loss. Cheryl and I had a great time. More and more I envision the good times, the great times. More and more it occurs to me that the fly shit is merely something to be disregarded as wrinkles in the fabric of the universe. It was (is) events and things and times for learning and growth to happen. It is more life to be embraced.

I thank the universe for that opportunity. (Now, maybe not then.)

Yesterday our grief share focus was on being stuck in grief and ways to break out of that stuckness. In other words fly shit. Embrace it. It is hard to do but embrace it with enthusiasm given to other more embraceable events: birthday parties, holidays, vacation trips, the list goes on. Allow new connections to develop.

I made a new connection. I tell myself I was not looking for another new relationship but apparently I was. It is definitely all pepper and spice with a little fly shit here and there. Flys do not seem to eat much. The spices overwhelm the other things.

Carpe the damn Diem (and do not forget the Herbs de Provence.)

from https://premeditatedleftovers.com/blog/

Life Long Learning

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Don’t Sit on the Sticker Bushes! Good advice! Something Cheryl was looking at on TV prompted this comment from her. She was just starting down the road to dementia. Odd comments and visions would come to her but we had been together too long and I loved her to much to leave her unaided. Life is full of little surprise comments. Sometimes funny some times not. They can punctuate our lives and section off unhappy or anxious feelings from the good times. Long ago now, Jerry came in and said, “There are more things today that don’t mean shit than ever before!” then he left my office.

The Valco Saga

Mistakes in life are made but if there is a plan, they are all part of the plan or not. Perhaps there is no plan per se. Perhaps it is actually a vision. The universe is a continuum. In 1990 I was employed by Cincinnati Milacron in Cincinnati, the machine tool capital of the world in many respects. I had spent 18 years of my life at Cincinnati Milacron. I came for five and stayed eighteen. A stalwart old line Cincinnati company that was the gold standard of machine tool manufacturers. Cincinnati Milacron no longer exists. Remnants of the old company do, the largest of which is simply called Milacron today. Then, however, it seemed to me that CM was dying a slow death. Occasionally I looked elsewhere for a different position.

It is much like looking for a new wife after tiring of the old wife. It is also not part of my make-up when I say that to myself. I am easily entrenched in life. Cheryl and I had been married twenty years by this time. My fortieth trip around Sol was within view. Was I too old to find another position that I was passionate about? I was not certain, nor was I willing to give up, and I was not in a grass is greener mode, I was looking to the future and wondering, what if? CM was downsizing without a vision, it seemed from my perspective. Was there a future?

A good friend that had gotten caught in the shrinkage called me one day with a lead. The head electrical wizard at the little company at which he landed had died and they where on the hunt for a new head electrical engineer. I did not realize that the head electrical person would be working directly for one half of the partnership that owned and ran the company.

Rich, the half of the partnership that eventually came to be my boss, was a know-it-all. Two weeks into the new job, I began to wonder about the wisdom of my decision to accept the position of chief electrical engineer. The previous holder of the position I had never met but he had, according to hearsay, and even Rich’s own mouth, a bit of a drinking problem. At the very least he was more gregarious than I, but most importantly, he had the protection of half of the owning partnership. I did not.

From 1990 to 1994 I worked for this little company in southwest Ohio called Valco Cincinnati. They manufacture adhesive application equipment for the packaging and other industries and like many small companies they were growing by acquisition. Theirs was an interesting application of control electronics. And the job of steering that was a giant leap of faith for me.

Office Life can be Challenging

From the perspective of 25 years later, one might imagine that the memories would fade. They do but I took notes of various kinds along the way. Mostly funny little things people would say. Engineers and technical folks are a cynical group. Most are conservative decision makers. Me included. Most carry thoughts in the background of “prove it to me” or “Oh yeah? Show me.” It is part of the nature of an engineer. If the math works, they will believe it.

I had kept a journal on and off through my life and towards the end of my tenure at Valco I wrote more. I imagine Scott Adams started down this same road at PG&E, except that he was better at it. He turned it into a career. I kept funny memos that the ownership and other managers would publish. The pointy haired boss in Dilbert reminds me of one half of the ownership, of Rich, the half that hired me.

After I was terminated, fired, sacked; a friend and colleague took all my notes from what he referred to as the “wall of shame” and collected them in a cast-off binder and sent them to me. This friend is the Jerry I refer to in the quote above. He had more insight into the workings of a privately held company than I gave him credit for at the time.

It may sound corny but these notes are precious to me. They chronicle my time there. These little messages are in addition to my journaling. Termination from a less than satisfactory job was a much needed learning experience. That I was terminated was disappointing but I now believe that everyone should be terminated at some time in their life. It is devastating. But it helps you to find inner strength. And often a better situation. At the very least it gives you perspective about what has importance and what is unimportant to you.

In this particular instance I had worked myself into a particularly odd funk. I sought help when I found myself contemplating what to do to end it all. I may have also begun to understand why the previous owner of this job had a drinking problem. I was developing my own. Between my family doctor and a psychiatrist friend of his we had attached the name of acute situational depression to my condition. It does not have to be chronic but it can be fatal. All of these sad and dark feelings occurred behind an apparently happy guy.

The Wall of Shame

Some statements transcend time and space and Jerry’s comment, “There are more things today that don’t mean shit than ever before!” is one of those. A universal theory that becomes a truth by demonstration and consistency. There are many of these.

Somewhere during my debilitating Valco experience I received one of those cute little desk calendars with an engineer saying on it for each day. Some of those I kept after I had scissored off the date. Engineering always lives in a cube farm. The walls of which made great bulletin boards. It is on of the few things I miss about working as an engineer, posting stuff on the wall for commentary by others. Much like Facebook but much more intimate and personal.

A favorite: WESTHEIMER’S RULE: To estimate the time to do a task, estimate the time you think it should take, multiply by two and change the unit of measure to the next higher unit,. Thus we allocate two days for a one hour task. — (I added) — and predict April 15th as the finish date. I thought of April 15th merely because it was two weeks hence from the time of the original posting on the wall. It was only later that someone pointed out to me that April 15 had significance to the other half of the partnership. As I started the wall, others came by and helped. Many added sayings that they had tripped over in memos or simply spoke out loud. Some of the guys would be very careful about what they said around my cubicle.

This actually got better as I and others continued to collect little remarks that people say to each other in an office or elsewhere in the vein of the old sage wise sayings.

At the end of a memo written to encourage moving on with some decision: … I BELIEVE THAT WE HAVE A WINNER IF WE MAKE THESE CHANGES AND WE SHOULD PROCEED WITHOUT HASTE (sic) I have no idea why it is written in all caps. I do not have the rest of the memo. I like the thought though — damn the torpedoes! Full speed ahead BACKWARDS!

Another: Papoose (def) — consolation prize for taking a chance on an Indian blanket. [anon] And another – God hates a coward!

One of my personal favorites: “We’ll just come to that bridge when we cross it!” spoken by our service manager at the time, Larry, after a meeting. It might be the first time I started to write down misspoken comments by others. This is profoundly true if you stop to ponder it.

And the wall grew and grew. 1993 Exploded with all of these gems and in some cases I categorized them because context became more important.

I wonder how they put up with me? — Dave

The bigger the orifice the more shit you get out! — Randy

I never drink under the influence. — Scott

There is no group that takes more time away from family life than the Church! — R. Cloud

It looks reasonably promising (fence sitter) — Lance

People are clueless! — Todd

Jack Shit running loose is NOT a good thing! — J. Lutterbie

Some animals aren’t trainable — Jay

Not all boats will rise with the tide. (stock market) — Don

… a frozen semi-state (the fifth state of matter)– Jim

(sensitivity, empathy) He’s about as sensitive as fire ants crawling up your ass. — Mike

ADVICE – help that you don’t want to give out — Dean

It’s one of those loose T&E’s — B. Nolting

Give them lips a rest young co-op — Paul

Nothing comes from being stupid in public — Jerry

(control theory) The temperature is set on 75, the thermostat reads 67, everything’s fine. — L Marsh

(Social commentary) Stereotypes are typically based on observation — Mike

(Administration’s statement of the obvious) Everybody’s busy or they’re gone! — Jim Bornhorst

(Conversation) Are you coming back later? we’re having Karaoke tonight. — No thanks I’m on a low fat diet.

1994 brought:

(life commentary) Will we ever understand anything? — Jerry

(Electrostatic discharge) If we’d just clean up management there’d be a lot less static around here. — Gene

(why things often do not work) We didn’t load the bogus values correctly. — Dave

(obviousness) That’s going to be blank unless we put something on it! — R Woolf

His reality contact is a little low. — Kappeler

(fence sitter) I think I’ve got this somewhat under control. — Kathy

Some things you get for free you can’t afford. — Keith

God, what a Fu-Fu this has been!

It was relatively impressive. If that makes any sense. — Jerry

Fuck this place. — Paul

It was a lot easier when we didn’t have to deal with the Germans. — Paul

The last page of Jerry’s memoir to me was written by the best of the best when it came to folks that I have worked with through the years. He is truly a special person. His final words: So you have to be aware that if Bornhorst sacks you because he can’t decide how else to suck up to Greg, understand that it is your fault that some projects turned to crap. For a while at least I was pissed at Jim Bornhorst but then I realized that, as a friend once said, nothing good comes from being stupid in public. I hold those words dear. Jim probably was getting rid of me because he was told to do it and whether that was the truth of the matter or not, it was a distinction with no difference. Eventually I came to realize that being let go was actually a good day.

And in 1994 we were concerned about Global Warming but doing nothing.

The Silver Lining

This experience caused my brother to reach out to me.

Bill called me in 1994 after I had been terminated from my job with Valco. I do not remember him calling me much. It was the other way around in my memory. So, his call was a surprise.

He called me, he said to offer some advice. He said, ” You have to decide what you are going to charge.” ‘Charge for what?’ I replied. They are going to trip over some problem that they will need you to fix, because they did not know they had it. Something you would have just handled. They will try to get you to do it for nothing but its a temp job. Figure out how much you are going to charge to fix their problem.

Every worker should be fired at some point in their life. It is not very much fun while it is happening but it is an excellent learning experience. You get down on yourself. What did I do wrong? How will I go on? If you are part of the engineering staff of a company, you often operate under the illusion that you are part of the management cadre. Nothing could be further from the truth. You are a worker bee like everyone else. Your work however is to think, design, plan and create the product.

Bill’s little advice made me realize my value. Anything I did had a price. And that price was value for my time, experience, problem solving ability, cleverness and elegance of design. More importantly that price included time away from things, family, people and situations that might be more important to me than doing some job that the only tangible benefit was a pay check. He had put it in perspective. Life is too short.

Indeed! In retrospect it is unsatisfactory to harbor ill will to anyone. Better things come to you if you spend little time angry and upset about such a small thing as getting sacked. Trust the universe to center itself once more and make better things happen but you have to help. Do not sit on your hands.

More Silver

This all happened long ago. I learned from this experience that not everything happens for a reason. Some events occur because idiots gain control for a time. Most of the time if one can see past the immediate hurt, one discovers that a better existence is ahead.

I still collect sayings and phrases that engineers use. Dilbert is a favorite comic although Scott Adams is far enough away from daily existence at PG&E that often his take on office life is not as funny as it once was. Perhaps I too am older and less connected.

Some memos and silly comments were forwarded to me after I was gone. If only I could draw cartoons.

I rewrote and edited this story in response to a writing prompt that appeared in a newsletter email that I receive on a regular basis. The prompt is – This week write about a major shift you lived through, one in which suddenly so many otherwise stable details of your life dramatically changed, beyond your control, for better or worse. (Sometimes these changes can be for the better, directly or inadvertently.)

What or who ushered this shift into your life? What did your world look like before? What did it look like during and after the shift? Were you powerless in the face of it? Or did you play a role? How did you feel about it? Did your feelings about that shift change over time? If you could go back and undo the shift, would you? Why?

Don’t sit on the sticker bushes!

Carpe Diem.

Christmas 2024

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I opened this page to write about my thoughts and feelings this Christmas Day this year this 2024 this time without Cheryl. How do I feel?

Rested for one. I had an enjoyable dinner with my son and his wife and their two sons. I left their house in time for Rudolph and the team to get started without me watching. Here at home I read for a short time and went to my bed with visions of sugar plums, etc. You get it.

I feel a definite lack of enthusiasm in me. I suppose that is normal.

The apparent traverse in the sky of the sun has changed but the morning light is gray. It is overcast and still dark. Thank the lord for Rudolph’s nose.

It will take an extra effort on my part to get my mood out of the doldrums.

I am not feeling it yet but when I think of the saying framed on my granddaughter’s apartment wall in Chicago “Carpe the Damn Diem”, it makes me smile.

I have wrapped all the presents that I have to deliver today and stopped to think of each of them while I was cutting and folding and taping. They are very special to me.

I miss Cheryl today. That is normal. I do not feel bad or sad or anxious or down. I miss her and her holiday enthusiasm.

(“Sometimes love does not look like what you had in mind.” – Anne Lamott)

Perhaps this is one of those days. Perhaps love will surprise me if I look for it in those around me. Perhaps it will wash over me if I let it. Perhaps.

Carpe the damn Diem!

This Christmas

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Christmas is Harder than I thought it would Be

It just is harder. Several times over the past few days I have been blindsided by my own emotions. A hymn in church, a song on the radio, a picture on the Frameo, a note in a Christmas card, any of these and all of these bring to mind memories of glad tidings gone by. If I am completely honest with myself, I started it.

A good friend asked what my favorite song/hymn was and I responded “Hallelujah” and could not immediately remember Leonard Cohen wrote it so many years ago. It was often used in the closing scenes of the show “Criminal Minds.” It is a haunting tune, at least it is to me. I think the rendition that is used on the show is the one by John Bon Jovi. I am unsure of that fact but it haunts me and reminds me of Cheryl and our younger times together.

When that happens I just let it roll over me. It is disappointing that Cheryl is no longer with me but we had a great life together. More than fifty years of love, children, busy, travel, learning, excitement, anguish, grace, parties, dinners, Christmases, Easters, egg hunts, summers and summer vacations, it was a wonderful time. We argued too but we never took that to bed with us. She supported me and I supported her.

Today as I put my last stamps on my Christmas messages I set Spotify to play “Hallelujah” by Leonard Cohen. After that it wandered off to play a not so random collection of songs from various albums. Yusaf (Cat Stevens) started playing and suddenly I was 25 again. It is interesting to me how that happens. Cheryl has long hair and the kids are little. Yusaf is gray these days, as am I.

And though you want to last forever; You know you never will; (You know you never will); And the goodbye makes the journey harder still – Cat Stevens “Oh Very Young”

It is good to remember those times we had.

Time only moves forward. The Christmas greetings are in the mail.

Tomorrow is Christmas eve.

Carpe Diem!

Some Men have not Eaten Quiche

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Real Men don’t Eat Quiche

Yesterday my nephew, Jeff, and his family came to visit. It was a spontaneous phone message in the dark of the movie theater. “I’m in town for a few days on business. Can we get together for breakfast or lunch?” He lives in California and I have not talked to him face to face since his wedding three years ago. I invited him to my little condo and spread the word to my kids. It was a wonderful spontaneous family gathering.

When I mentioned it to my neighbor Jane later she remarked, “Serendipitous!” Yes, it was.

I made a quiche out of some random components that I had in the refrigerator. Quiche and frittata are in the same category of use what you have, I think. And of the two I think quiche is better. It could be the pastry crust that is required for an excellent quiche. One can make a crustless quiche but that is just lazy and in that other country it is called frittata, so, go over the mountain and call your crustless quiche by the correct name.

Jeff told me that no one had ever made him a quiche before. (It made me feel good inside. I was proud of myself.) The title for this essay jumped into my head after they were all gone yesterday. It is from a satirical little book that I recently found was written in the 80s. (Wow, I am getting old. I thought it was written just a couple years ago.) I had almost said it to him when he said, this is pretty good.

This quiche was bacon, Italian sausage, broccoli and onions with sharp cheddar and mozzarella, eggs scrambled with a little sugar and buttermilk over a pie dough made with flour and butter and a little salt. It was good.

Sometimes us real men eat quiche and pronounce it to be good. The accompanying picture is AI’s version of real men eating quiche. You can tell they are real people because they are washing down their quiche and other green substances with lager. (Never mind the fact that they all have the same mother and they were all born within 15 seconds of each other.)

Beer and quiche, Could be the breakfast of champions.

Carpe the serendipitous Diem.

Do Crabs Have Eyebrows? And Other Questions

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Early in the morning after awakening I find coffee and turn on a newsy program to get information about the latest weather history. This time of year and on this day that Google Calendar tells me is Native American Heritage Day but the sale folks tell me is Black Friday, the weather folks are doing their best to get us out to shop before the temperature gets to absolute zero. In between the commercial advertisements are entertaining.

A cute little girl asks her mother, “Do crabs have eyebrows?” Today it made me laugh. Why did I laugh on this day?

Who knows? I certainly do not. I tripped over a Spotify playlist of Lindsey Stirling and her high speed electric violin playing and it picks up my spirit today.

And the ads have made me think of Christmases past and hope for Christmases future.

Perhaps I need to be in a crowded place with a hot chocolate in my hand.

Carpe Diem.