Just Another Day

Friday evening has come. Air here is still relatively warm. Our grey sky is very moisture laden. Tonight we are under a series of severe weather  watches. Because of how warm it has been a potential exists for tornadoes as this cold front pushes through . 

Every place has its demons, every place has its monsters. If I lived on the East Coast there would be Noreasters  and hurricanes. Here along the Canadian border the threat is always blizzard, and sometimes tornados.

I spent today working on a long and convoluted order. As it stands it looks like I will be stripping an automobile repair shop of it's license. I have had to go back and listen to the vast majority of the hearing for a second time. When you're dealing with the termination of someone's livelihood you don't want to leave anything to chance. After time passes my eyes get blurry staring at the screen. Still I should be able to get it done over the course of the weekend.

Today had some subtle and unexpected  delights. I had several short text conversations with friends. The cheered me up. Sometimes in a rush to do our work, to cloth and feed our families, to be part of the normal we forget that there are voices we need to listen to. We forget that sometimes we have to reach out to them first. A few quick phrasea here and there can remind someone of a long and shared history.

I took a couple of pictures to capture the nature of this February day. Kids are playing in a brown gray park with no snow to be seen. Old men walk their dogs up and down the streets several times each day. The normal here would have snow 12 inches deep and the temperature would not be 54°. The kids might still be playing but they would be building a snow fort. Time is not this day as time always was.

Last night after promising start I got bogged down in reading up on stoicism The author began following each of various threads the philosophical movement. My guess is that in a bit he'll return to the major elements of the doctrine. I hope so, the start of the book was so promising. In these remaining years I am going to refuse to let my mind idle too much.

Break out the single malt

There are so many things that are on my mind right now. Some days I'm not sure where I should begin to try and untangle the issues I'm surrounded by. Life is like that sometimes. 

Of the new order well I'm not a fan. Today there were no issues that I felt an absolute need offer any commentary on, post a link about or share a meme regarding. Do not get me wrong, if I see something that seems unjust or unfair or simply wrongheaded I will speak up.

My biggest gripe is with time. Looking at old pictures has made me look at the clock on the wall in this old bar. Hell it is almost closing hour. Better drink up and make sure we pour the good stuff

Good News

I had started a note while I was in the urologist waiting room on my laptop. I was an hour early for my appointment. My thought was that it would give me a little time to do some writing. It was also necessitated by the fact that it didn't cost me anything to get there an hour early because my wife could drop me off on her way to work and I wouldn't have to pay for a cab. To my surprise they called me in for my appointment almost immediately.

Talking to the doctor actually was a pretty positive experience. According to the doctor my chances of prostate cancer return have dropped precipitously now because at the 10 year mark after surgery there is a steep decline in the recurrence rates. That was good news. 

I am dictating this as I'm waiting for my Uber. Apple has  really upped their game on voice recognition software. There is an occasional mistake here and there but for the most part the dictation is close to flawless.

(Time passes)

I took a break from writing because my Uber driver showed up. Riding with the gentleman I found out that his main job is working as an orderly for community mental health. A rather big guy, his job is to subdue patients who are becoming unruly and unmanageable.

 He actually seemed like a relatively gentle spirit. We talked about the medications that are given to control bipolar disorder. We both know that while very effective lithium destroys the liver of the user. I tried to give him a tip and he wouldn't take it.

After I got out I refreshed my coffee at the Biggby here. I got one of my favorite barista's  to pose for a portrait. I'm playing around a lot with the portrait imaging in the Apple camera. It is really a rather nice feature.

I will spend most of the day writing an order on the hearing I help yesterday. It will be very time-consuming and rather emotionally draining. This is my life. This is everyone's life. A little joy a lot of work.

Sunshine daydream

Sometimes a bit of joy comes at you sideways. It is the middle of February and the temperature is near 60° in Michigan. I'm walking outside wearing only my shirt sleeves. Who would ever hit believe this possible, not me.

Trust me I'll take this. The sun had been out earlier and it was delicious to feel it on my face. The sky still has a bright glow put some clouds are moving in. My guess is that this will bring the end of false spring. It's OK we're not supposed to experience unfettered happiness all the time. Without the bitter the sweet would not taste as wonderful as it does.

I could start humming some old tunes and get lost wandering around this afternoon. Still, I have work to do. Despite the glorious nature of the day I will tend to my task. Celebrate the small things, a warm day, a ray of sunshine or a good hearty laugh.

Day at End

There will come a day,

There will come one singular day,

When the light will be so bright as to blind us.

It will not come with an announcement,

Nor will there be hints or signs or omens,

To be found the intensely bright washed clean air,

When the light will be so bright as to blind us.

You trowel and kneeling pad will lie abandoned,

Amongst the mums and annuals,

The streets will be still,

When the light will be so bright as to blind us.

The distance will not be far, and

The time will not be long, and

The moment will neither surprise nor frighten us,

When the light will be so bright as to blind us.

I had just laid down in the hammock,

My rest well deserved,

The birds sang softly and sweetly

When the light so bright as to blind us came.

Old Love

Let the world be soft, so very soft for a moment, for this moment.

Let the world drift away much as piano notes drift away from a gentle sonata.

Let the world be tender and oh such a light thing suspended in a warm gentle space,

where nothing harsh or cruel or severe creeps into our hours as evening moves from twilight to sleep.

I remember that day as we walked along the edge of the water.

            Was it then our love first came, I don’t remember, do you?

Our feet were bare and our white trousers were rolled and we danced out and back

            Into the lapping of the waves.

I so remember the scent on your neck as I first kissed your mouth and then caressed that space

            Between your supple shoulder and your graceful neckline.

            Was it White Shoulders, I have never been good at these things as you know.

The waves kept coming and soon the bulky cuffs we had hastily created from the rolling of summer cotton wear,

were soaked with salt and sand and the fluid of all life.

I remember your eyes so dark peering into mine as if seeking to see my soul.

I remember the golden sun that was creeping away from us,

            As the first cool breezes of a summer evening came wispy and gentle at our forms standing in an embrace that would be a mark on our lives for the ages.

If I still smoked I would stand outside and cupping a match within my hand I would light my tobacco,

Drawn from a crumpled soft pack found in an interior coat pocket.

Drawing deeply, I would eventually let the smoke escape as I waited for the release that nicotine brings to the brain,

            That calm.

A red ember shinning at the end of a Marlboro or a Kool I would stand alone,

in the dark of this day so many years removed from the edge of the waves, from the August warmth, from the passion of your love.

If I still smoked I would stand outside on this cold winter’s night and stare out among the stars

            Remembering.

And then I would go back to the bills, the dishes and the demands of the life my choices created.

Cigarettes in the Salt Air

He never was one to see the sun coming up.  Yes, it was the Atlantic.  Yes, in this part of the world, that is North America’s mid-Atlantic coast the sun rise was the solar event that played out over the mighty ocean.  Sunsets happened over the bay. Yes, the solitude of the earliest light on the beach was revered by many.  But when you go to bed at 4:30 a.m. drunk and stoned the dawn’s first light is not on your radar.

On the other hand, the late hours on the strand were something he was so very familiar to him.  After the beer ran out, after the card game was ended often times because no single person at the table could even remember what the game they were playing was, let alone the score, after people simply slipped into the ether of sleep or stupor of more than enough pot and beer, he would excuse himself or be kicked out and it was then he went and payed homage to the water mother of us all.

Be it a night of heavy mist, or clear starlight or muggy August air, it really didn’t matter to him.  A bit high and a little tipsy he would make his way over the barrier at the street’s end. Stealthily he would dash up a flight of steps and over a barricade of railroad ties smelling of creosote pounded into the sand to mark the street’s terminus.  His feet immediately came out of his footwear. Shoes in his hand he would scan the beach left and right because it was “technically” illegal to be out here at this hour.  Normally unless you were being a real bother the cops would just let it slide.

He would walk for blocks until the distance between the beachfront houses and the water’s edge was at its maximum.  It was then he would roll up his pant legs and go wading out into the water.  Retrieving a Bic lighter from somewhere in pockets of his shorts he would pull a Marlboro out of the soft pack in his shirt pocket.  Standing in the water he would inhale heartily and then let the smoke escape his nostrils. He felt the salt water around his feet.  He stared out to the East although there was very little he might really see there, maybe a ship’s running lights, I mean these were the darkest hours of the night.  But standing there watching the dark feeling the thick water around his calves and hearing the waves falling one by one well the best he could describe it was he felt at peace.  He felt holy.

When the cigarette was burned down to almost the filter he would flick the butt out into the waves.  He would turn back toward the beach and walk back to the access point to the strand from whence he had started.  Did that ritual mean anything in the grand scheme of things?  Most likely the answer is no. Did it give him a few moments of peace, you bet your ass it did.  Would those moments carry him through the rough points throughout the rest of his life?  The answer to that is an unequivocal yes.  The ocean is never the same.  You can’t go back and relieve the exact moment by simply stepping in it but like Siddhartha at the river each time you wade into the waters you know that you are part of the unending stream of life.  This occurs whenever you are ankle deep in salt water, be it in the here and now or be it in your memory.