The Struggle is (can be) Real

(Reposted for readibility issues)

First, I will be very open that I blame myself.

Mostly.

Partly.

Anyway, I know that I am pretty rough around the edges. I am kind of living proof that, regardless of what Mythbusters said, you cannot polish a turd. I know how to be nice, I have enough of a vocabulary that I can speak well and express myself without resorting to vulgarity. Expressing myself is usually fairly easy. Doing so without resorting to vulgarity is the hard part. I do better while writing than I do while speaking.

Maybe I should get a bark collar to shut me up.

No, I would probably learn to like it.

I have a pretty developed sense of humor and can tell some pretty funny jokes. Again, the hard part is doing so without resorting to vulgarity. I need to work on that.

My phone makes a specific tone when I get certain alerts on it. Usually related to oen of the cameras outside detecting motion. Most likely, it is a car turning around in the cul-de-sac or a neighbor's cat prowling the yard. Either way, the same tone goes off when I come home. The camera first detects the motion of Max (my truck) pulling into the driveway, followed by the garage door opening as I walk up the driveway. Dougall, bless his heart, has learned that the tones mean that someone (hopefully me) is coming in. He hears the tone, then lifts his head and looks toward the door or out the front room window. If I am home when he reacts to the tone, I tell him "Your Uber is here!"

I laugh every time. He does not appear to appreciate my joke.

I can speak and express myself. I consider myself to be fairly intuitive and appear to have the presence of mind to use common sense. I am not a poet, neither a writer, and claim no creative talents. I try to be kind. I pick up litter. I make every attempt to get along with others, although I do not suffer bullies. I defend those who cannot or will not defend themselves. I am not a jealous person, but fully admit that I may be envious of another at times. (Queue the Homer Simpson meme...)

One more thing I can lay claim to is that I am old and getting older. I used to be older than dirt, now I am older than rocks. Getting old/older means that you start to lose a lot of friends. Age, illness, life in general, means that shit happens. About the time of my 20th high school reunion, I did a little investigating and discovered that my graduating class had at that time, more deaths than any three of the years prior to or following. Out of the seven years of graduating classes, the year I graduated had a lot of dead people.

I preach that correlation does not equal causation. Still, that is a very interesting statistic. What was it about that year that was so fatal?

So, I have lost friends and I have lost family. Some due to death, some due to just growing apart, and I surmise that it will keep happening. Distance has a lot to do with it. Many people who once were friends have moved or I have moved away from them. Distance may make the heart grow fonder, but it does not foster a relationship that includes "Hey, want to get some pizza?" Some friends have the appearance of only wanting to be friends as long as I can get them something, as long as I can do something for them. Once that stops happening, they stop calling or texting and stop reaching out.

On the family side of things, I have lost a bunch due to death, a bunch due to distance, and lately the determination has been that I just do not have what they want. Whether it is something tangible, something personal, or maybe they just do not like my jokes, the common denominator is me. Most of my family is separated by distance. Understandably, it is difficult to reach out when you live so far away. Life happens. People get busy. People have their own lives to attend to. I would not think to set their priorities for them. I do recognize that I am not one. I will get over it.

Mom and dad taught me that you do not always have to like everybody, but you should at least be courteous and respectful. Do not bully another person. Do not allow another person to bully you. I know that they both always wanted to have close ties to family. There were reasons, but they did end up relocating to other parts of the state and country, and I suspect that some of the reasoning for that was to just stay out of the proximity of the anger and hatred they received from "family" and it was easier to just go somewhere else. Over the years I watched how they were treated. I understand the choice to just be somewhere else.

I also got to witness firsthand the animosity from other family members as I became the target by default. I will get over it.

There were other words I had written, but I decided that they were words that I need not share. I do not need to stoop to that level. What is in the past, is in the past. I know that there are relationships that will never mend, and that I am the poorer for that. Maybe if I were a better man, I could see that happening. List it as just another of my failures. I will get over it. Besides, nobody reads these notes except myself. I do not promote this blog, and neither do I share it with those I know. They really do not want to read this.

And, as I mentioned, I blame myself.

The Struggle Is (Can Be) Real

First, I will be very open that I blame myself.

Mostly.

Partly.

Anyway, I know that I am pretty rough around the edges. I am kind of living proof that, regardless of what Mythbusters said, you cannot polish a turd. I know how to be nice, I have enough of a vocabulary that I can speak well and express myself without resorting to vulgarity. Expressing myself is usually fairly easy. Doing so without resorting to vulgarity is the hard part. I do better while writing than I do while speaking.

Maybe I should get a bark collar to shut me up.

No, I would probably learn to like it.

I have a pretty developed sense of humor and can tell some pretty funny jokes. Again, the hard part is doing so without resorting to vulgarity. I need to work on that.

My phone makes a specific tone when I get certain alerts on it. Usually related to oen of the cameras outside detecting motion. Most likely, it is a car turning around in the cul-de-sac or a neighbor's cat prowling the yard. Either way, the same tone goes off when I come home. The camera first detects the motion of Max (my truck) pulling into the driveway, followed by the garage door opening as I walk up the driveway. Dougall, bless his heart, has learned that the tones mean that someone (hopefully me) is coming in. He hears the tone, then lifts his head and looks toward the door or out the front room window. If I am home when he reacts to the tone, I tell him "Your Uber is here!"

I laugh every time. He does not appear to appreciate my joke.

I can speak and express myself. I consider myself to be fairly intuitive and appear to have the presence of mind to use common sense. I am not a poet, neither a writer, and claim no creative talents. I try to be kind. I pick up litter. I make every attempt to get along with others, although I do not suffer bullies. I defend those who cannot or will not defend themselves. I am not a jealous person, but fully admit that I may be envious of another at times. (Queue the Homer Simpson meme...)

One more thing I can lay claim to is that I am old and getting older. I used to be older than dirt, now I am older than rocks. Getting old/older means that you start to lose a lot of friends. Age, illness, life in general, means that shit happens. About the time of my 20th high school reunion, I did a little investigating and discovered that my graduating class had at that time, more deaths than any three of the years prior to or following. Out of the seven years of graduating classes, the year I graduated had a lot of dead people.

I preach that correlation does not equal causation. Still, that is a very interesting statistic. What was it about that year that was so fatal?

So, I have lost friends and I have lost family. Some due to death, some due to just growing apart, and I surmise that it will keep happening. Distance has a lot to do with it. Many people who once were friends have moved or I have moved away from them. Distance may make the heart grow fonder, but it does not foster a relationship that includes "Hey, want to get some pizza?" Some friends have the appearance of only wanting to be friends as long as I can get them something, as long as I can do something for them. Once that stops happening, they stop calling or texting and stop reaching out.

On the family side of things, I have lost a bunch due to death, a bunch due to distance, and lately the determination has been that I just do not have what they want. Whether it is something tangible, something personal, or maybe they just do not like my jokes, the common denominator is me. Most of my family is separated by distance. Understandably, it is difficult to reach out when you live so far away. Life happens. People get busy. People have their own lives to attend to. I would not think to set their priorities for them. I do recognize that I am not one. I will get over it.

Mom and dad taught me that you do not always have to like everybody, but you should at least be courteous and respectful. Do not bully another person. Do not allow another person to bully you. I know that they both always wanted to have close ties to family. There were reasons, but they did end up relocating to other parts of the state and country, and I suspect that some of the reasoning for that was to just stay out of the proximity of the anger and hatred they received from "family" and it was easier to just go somewhere else. Over the years I watched how they were treated. I understand the choice to just be somewhere else.

I also got to witness firsthand the animosity from other family members as I became the target by default. I will get over it.

There were other words I had written, but I decided that they were words that I need not share. I do not need to stoop to that level. What is in the past, is in the past. I know that there are relationships that will never mend, and that I am the poorer for that. Maybe if I were a better man, I could see that happening. List it as just another of my failures. I will get over it. Besides, nobody reads these notes except myself. I do not promote this blog, and neither do I share it with those I know. They really do not want to read this.

And, as I mentioned, I blame myself.

Where is my community?

I know that after a certain age (which I am most certainly past at this point) you start to lose a lot of friends. Age, illness, and life in general will take it's toll. I have gotten to the point where I am most certainly in the friend deficit column.

But I also believe that I am the reason that a lot of people, who I once called friend, have been absent in my little corner of the world. I have moved about a dozen times, and each time I dropped the ball when keeping in touch with others. I failed myself, not that they failed me. I do not cast the blame on them.

I was never the "cool" kid. I was never the one that others wanted to befriend, the one that they wanted to hang around with. The friends I had growing up as a child, were ones that I found and tagged along with. They were fine with hanging out with other friends, and would certainly let me be there as well. But they were not the ones to call me to get together or come to my house to be with me.

As a very young child, there were a lot of social differences between my family and others. It was a small community, and while the adults were more or less passive about who they would or would not include in their social groups, their children were brutal. Name calling, bullying, throwing rocks and chasing me and my two sisters, were not out of the norm.We were different. And while I know that the kids were merely repeating thoughts and words of their parents, it did not make it hurt any less.

Junior High (Middle School) and High School were a little more subtle, but the group dynamics were also more clarified. I really just did not fit in with any group. I was not a jock, nor was I a stoner, nor was I one of the chosen few who rode their parents affluency though the years. I was not understood by many of the teachers in my schools, and it was not until later that I found out where my IQ level stood, and what my ACT score was, both of which kind of surprised me. But my school guidance team decided that I did not posses the right stuff to move into that peer group. I was "allowed" to graduate without the credits needed, mainly because they were finished with me and did not want me hanging around anymore. The reasons for my grades (or lack thereof) was boredom in school and lack of challenge, lack of direction. I suspect that part of that had to do with my two sisters, both of whom failed out of high school.

Family is another comedy in this story. I was born five minutes prior to my twin sister. We were early and small enough that we slept together in a dresser drawer for a while because it was easier than a crib. When we were learning to talk, we had our own language that only our older sister could understand. Mom told me stories about having to get her to translate what we were trying to tell mom. We had each other. We did not have a lot of kids our age until we grew up a little, but we were each other's best friend.

That lasted until Chris and Sam started getting closer and suddenly, it was as if a switch were flipped and while it was not open warfare, there was a lot of two-against-one going on. I was odd man out, so to speak. Later, they shared a lot of friends and a lot of habits including alcohol and drugs. Another group I did not join as it just was not my thing. I did not fit in there, either.

More on the family dynamics. There was (still is) a lot of animosity from step-siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles stemming from decisions that mom and dad made. Not bad decisions, just personal decisions that other people, mostly family, did not like. This animosity was mostly underhanded and behind the back, but on occasion would evolve into verbal abuse and once or twice included actual threats. 

Now, let me return to the community or tribe part of this missive. More and more I feel less and less that I have any real community. Friends from my early life connect briefly and infrequently. There are talks about getting together for food or we share jokes online. But the reality of it is that they all have their own lives. They have their own community. They have their village, their tribe.

My tribe is becoming smaller and smaller. Most of my extended family are dead or dispersed to other parts of the world. They belong to each other, but I do not. Any semblance of belonging has dwindled to passive remembrance and never any contact. One cousin went so far as to blame me specifically for all of society's ills as she sees it, and every perceived offense is directly related to me. Alright, so be it.

My immediate tribe has relegated me to contact if needed or convenient. An afterthought. At best, I have been forgotten. at worst, I have been openly insulted and blamed (once again) for their shortcomings.

To be honest, I blame myself as well, so their is that paradox.

Some blame me for who someone else became. Some blame me for who they became. Mostly, I am called if needed. Extraneous. I mean, it is nice to be needed, but it would be nice to be needed for who I am instead of what I can do. It would be nice to be needed because they want to need me. 

I will get over it.

Is it me?

I must have too much time on my hands. I keep finding myself obsessing thinking about recent events and wondering what it was that I did to cause that to happen, whatever "that" was. I'd like to think that my mind is working so frenetically that it runs out of things to think about while I am about my daily tasks, and then begins to look for other things to do while my hands and body are plodding along trying to keep up.

Yeah, I didn't buy that one either.

More likely, I'm so ADD that every distraction that comes along insinuates itself into my grey matter like a tick or a spider and then claws into the mass until it gets the attention it's seeking.

Okay, THAT needs a little mental bleach.

Back to the topic as I intended, when I start to think on these recent events I try to ascertain cause and effect. What did I do to cause that event? What did I do to alter that course of action? And of course I look at it as my fault - why wouldn't I? I am well aware of being my own worst critic, but then I know myself better than any other person does, therefore I know my faults. And while I know that not everything is my fault, it's still my fault.

A couple of things that happened to me within the past week or two grabbed my attention like virtual slaps in the face. Things that on the surface shouldn't have meant much, and probably don't, but for whatever reason turned into those parasitic critters, digging and chewing their way into my psyche (LOVELY image) until I found myself revisiting them, much like picking at a scab that would heal faster and with less scarring if left alone. True OCDers (CDOers for the truly, TRULY CDO) know better. "Why leave it alone when you can do some serious mental gymnastics with this one?" I should have probably just left well enough alone.

I didn't.

The first event happened a few weeks ago. I was having a discussion with a friend who was dealing with some issues I wasn't a part of, but mostly just venting. Looking for an opportunity to verbalize what was going on at the time, mostly for their own sake. I certainly didn't have any answers. At one point, however, I said something to them and, to stress my point, I reached out and touched the back of their hand with my fingertips. Not a slap, not grabbing, not poking. Just a soft touch on their hand. When I did this, they flinched. They flinched. They. Flinched.

Is it me?

My first thought was that I surprised them, but as we were sitting at a table fairly close and had been so for a while, I was pretty sure they knew I was there at the time. My second thought was "What do you see when you look at me?" What kind of image do I throw out, what impression of myself do I share with others? Am I mean or a brute? Did they think I was going to hit them? Am I just that creepy?

Don't answer that last one.

It was something so small, so insignificant and yet it almost completely derailed my ability to finish the conversation. The hurt was palpable. Still, when I think back about it, I still feel that little squeeze where my heart is supposed to be. It really made me look at our friendship and wonder at the validity of it. Is it all pretend, are we just playing at being friends?

I don't have the answer.

The other day a friend turned and made a comment to me. After a few moments they realized they were talking to the wrong person and apologized, laughing, and life went on. A small, insignificant instance. Nothing of import, no feelings hurt, nobody offended. And yet, I find myself wanting to be the person to whom they were asking the question. We shared a chuckle at it and it was forgotten.

Except it wasn't.

And I can't help but wonder if it is me. Again. (Still?) Is it my attitude? Am I mean, low or base? I admit to having a pretty dark sense of humor - I still think farts are funny. Am I sleazy? (Strike that - it falls into the same category as creepy, see above.) Is it something I can't see? What am I that I am not what I want to be? And how do I fix what is broken.

I dont' expect any answers. I don't know that my ego can take much more abuse. No worries, I'm stable and confident enough that even if I never figure it out, I will survive. I'm also a realist enough that I know that whatever is lacking or whatever it is I am doing, I own. It's me whether I discover what it is or not. Those who I have asked tell me there isn't anything, that I am being too hard on myself. I just don't see it that way. Maybe I'm reaching for a star I'll never touch. I know I'll never be perfect. Hell, I'll never be what I want to be.

But I can't help but wonder, is it me?

Thanks for reminding me.

I am sure that you have noticed that I've been writing more. I am trying to be a more productive blogger and be more regular with my entries. One of my blogging idols recently finished a blog-a-day year and while I don't know if I can compete with that, I am going to attempt to at least be more regular with my entries.


Another reason I want to do this is that I received a call at work from a friend and at the end of the call, bless her, she took the time to compliment me on my writings and suggested that I keep writing. To you, C, I owe at least part of this increase in my efforts.


And, I owe you my thanks. Too many times people think nice things, but not often say them and that's just wrong. I've known C for many years; we have worked together and she's always had nothing but kindness to share. She's that type of person.


Another person I would like to thank is J. (Yes, I know I am leaving out their names. Privacy is something I won't steal from them.) I've known J since we were in elementary school together, which translates to a long time. I am a lot older, but J hasn't aged nearly as much as I have. Thanks to social media and the blessings of reuniting with friends and family. J and I shared a few words one night discussing some of the unpleasantness in our lives. The support she shared was a beautiful surprise and, quite literally, warmed my heart and spirit.


I don't know who I write for, maybe just for myself. I see by my page views that spreading the word out on Facebook and Twitter is working. I guess I'll see what happens. If the readership continues, then maybe there really is some value to this other than me stretching my fingers on the keyboard.

Is it entitlement or what?

Is it entitlement or what?

What is it with people lately? I am a volunteer instructor teaching classes that have a variety of students – different ages, from 9-10 year olds to adults of almost any age, male and female, and even physically challenged. My latest class has a couple of students that apparently have nut allergies. A applaud their mother who approached me prior to the start of class, except she took it too far. She proceeded to tell me that it was required of me to tell the rest of the class that nobody could eat any snacks in the classroom and would need to exit to the sales floor of the business which has been gracious enough to let me user their facility. I reminded her that this was a business and that I was not going to have the students take their breaks on a sales floor while they were trying to conduct business. She proceeded to tell me that it was required because of the severity of the allergy for her two children. I tried to mollify her by telling her that I would explain the situation to the class. I was in no way accepting the responsibility of her own children eating something they are allergic to.

I finally got the class underway and in the midst of the opening I observed this mother standing in the doorway and slowly sliding into the class. After she had sufficiently interrupted the class, I asked her if she had something to say and she stated “Well, I wasn’t going to interrupt, but since you offered…” and proceeded to instruct the class on how there were two “special” students with allergies severe enough that they had epi-pens with them at all times and that it was the “responsibility” of the rest of the students to protect her children.

Seriously?!?

I mean this lady was telling the class what the ingredients were in the snack machine and telling them what they could and could not eat. She was telling 34 other people to babysit her two children.

Personally, I would have thought her time would have been put to better use by teaching her two kids how to avoid the fending nuts in the first place and to behave under their own control rather than rely on strangers to mete out a little self control.

BTW, throughout the class people were eating peanut butter sandwiches, chips and cookies and neither child had an event. Neither did they attempt to eat someone else’s food.

I understand the concern. I can sympathize with the fear of the possible reaction. I don’t understand trying to put the onus of responsibility on complete strangers.
Additionally, why is it that friends and family decide that the only times they need to contact you are only if they need something or feel obligated to?

I had a pretty close friend several years ago. Close enough that most people knew that if they couldn’t find one of us, if they called the other we were probably together. We spent enough time together that we would practically finish each other’s sentences. We camped, hunted and fished together. We taught together and we were involved in Scouting together. We had fun.

A few years ago he stopped calling. Or rather, he stopped calling unless he needed something. He also stopped returning calls. I still hear from him or get text messages from him if he needs some information I can provide or if I can do something for him, but that’s about it.

Family?

It seems as though I’ve fallen into the same situation there. Lately, unless they feel obligated or need something, they all act the same way. And heaven forbid we should say no to something or not be able to just jump to perform. Plan a dinner and invite family and friends and the night before be told that everybody’s plans have changed. “No, we didn’t know how to tell you.”

And heaven forbid you should live farther away than other family. I mean, it might take five more minutes to drive to your house and that just isn’t convenient. Not even once a month, like we asked.

And somehow, I feel responsible for the whole thing. I’m not exactly sure what I have done to offend people en masse, but apparently I am damn good at it. If I post on a Twitter or Facebook thread, they die. Friends stop calling and family treat me like a pariah.

I guess this is where I am supposed to apologize, so here you go: I apologize. Whatever I did, I am sorry. I’m sorry you don’t like my convictions or where I stand on things or that I moved too far for your convenience.
Or that your kid has allergies.

That being said, Thanks for treating me like shit.

For those few who still aren't offended, thanks for being there when I needed it.

Patience is a virtue.

I am a patient man.

I. Am. A. Patient. Man.

Do not think for an instant that because I don't jump to defend myself that what you are doing is correct or right, or that you are getting away with your actions. I will, however, defend others that you are attacking, especially those that deserve my protection, those to whom I owe this protection.

Over the next few days, I expect that some things will transpire that will bring some of your own activities to light. When that happens, I will not gloat. I won't be elated neither will I feel any form of deep satisfaction. I hope to feel relief. As a matter of fact, I expect that I will be the first person blamed for any form or corrective action that you receive. I have no doubt that you will have enough friends believing that some how I did this to you. Luckily, there are those that will know the truth.

There are still enough people around that remember what you tried to do last time we dealt with this. I'm pretty sure that the memories won't help your argument.

Can I ask one thing - why do you hate me so? Why do you feel so much anger towards me? Is it merely insecurity? Have I ever said one thing to make you feel this way? Is it really me or do you hate someone else that I represent? Is it my hair color, my weight, or simply because I am male? What drives you to feel like this?

Sadly, I have even looked at it as if I might really be at fault. Maybe it was something I said or did that brought these feelings on. But there have been a lot of years go by that you have acted this way and maybe your life would benefit if you matured enough to act like an adult about whatever it is.

This being said, tomorrow begins the next (and last, I hope) chapter of this face-off. Something has to change. Something has to be done to improve the situation.

Phases and Stages

I've been watching the leaves since they began changing a few weeks ago. The view from my back door allows me to see across a small hollow and the trees and bushes are are all flaunting their finery. Apparently, the local fauna have decided that it's time to make an appearance as well. There have been V formations of geese flying and circling overhead and the other night there were three yearling does from the local deer herd that stopped and stared as I drove past them on a street below my house. Another sign is that I have what appears to be millions of acorns in my driveway. Supposedly, some acorns are edible, but I don't know if the ones off my trees are the kind that are and I'm not so adventuresome that I want to use my own self for testing. I do have some candidates in mind, however.

I also have seen some changes and alterations in friendships. I've reconnected with some friends lately that I haven't spoken with for a while and I'd like to think they are enjoying it as much as I. One friend, Kathy, grew up just down the street and started being more a friend of my sister, then we phased into school friends which was followed by morphing into acquaintances. I recently asked friends if social networking friends were "real" or just "tech" friends and was pleased to hear form Kathy that she felt we are "real" friends while another friend was truthful enough to admit that they felt that these friendships were "light compared to "in-person" friendships. I'm glad that Kathy and I have progressed to that stage. And I also wonder if maybe the anonymity of social media allows us to maybe be more forthcoming with personal "stuff" (technical term...) in turn getting us electronically closer to each other.

Another phase currently in change is happening at work. A few years ago there were things going on that were less than ideal. Things were happening that were making my life, and a few others as well, pretty miserable. I was patient, and I worked things through and was able to use channels to fix the problem without a lot of cost and without a lot of hurt feelings. Some hurt feelings, but not a lot. Things got better and then even better. Phases and stages.

Recently, however, some things are going on that are reminding me of a darker time. A time that I was hoping not to go back to. Things that are escalating to an almost insane level. Circles and cycles.

But I am a patient man. And, being a patient man, I know that there will soon come a time when things will improve. Possibly drastically. Maybe, if I am lucky, dramatically. But I am also thinking permanently.

My friends, I want to thank you being, well, my friends. I want to thank you for being there, and for sharing a little of your lives with me. You have helped to make some dark parts of my own existence a little less daunting, and a lot more warm.

Thank you once again, with all my heart.

"Tech" friends vs. "Real" friends

Technology is an amazing thing. Each new development makes the world smaller. Radio, gave people a means to reach out to others, a way to share ideas. Radio operators on ships and in the armed forces would take the opportunities to "meet" friends and exchange news, play chess and share recipes.

15 years ago email was in its infancy. Computers were nowhere near as available as they are now. Cell phones were called "bricks" and we all clamored for them, we all were reaching out. User groups and forums were starting. The Internet was building momentum and "networking" was becoming vogue.

AOL and other applications were becoming more and more popular. People were, again, reaching out just as they did in every community they ever lived in. From villages and farmsteads, to townships and on up the food chain, people have always looked to their neighbors, looked beyond their boundaries. Technology has given us more and more opportunities to do so more conveniently than ever before.

Through Facebook and other networking sites (AOL, MySpace, Twitter, Linkd) people are finding it possible to connect, reconnect and create relationships with people from all over the world. Through one group I've been able to reunite with friends from the small town where I grew up, friends from school and even family members from all around the country.

With another forum I attend online, I've made friends literally around the world. It's a group of motorcycle riders that has become a virtual family. We reach out through pain and sorrow, through illness and death, and through life, through love and through happiness. This family, most of whom have never met face to face, has come together to help make repairs of homes, computers and bikes; come together when one was in a crash and nearly died, when one lost a spouse to cancer, and when some have lost pets.

One example is that when one of the group had a bike that was his only source of transportation stolen and didn't know what to do, we all came together and chipped in and bought him another bike. Not a new one, but one that was 100%. A motorcycle. A Goldwing motorcycle. Not all friends will do that. Not all family will do that.

The kids I went to high school with? We can't even seem to get together for lunch one day, let alone go out of our way to make a major difference in our lives. I drove from Layton to SLC to pick up a motorcycle part, then delivered it to Pocatello with a "thank you" as my reward. It was enough.

On another side, I have a twin sister and we went for about 16 years without speaking. No cards, no calls, no contact. Not a lot of friendship. I know that my family isn't typical, but neither are my friends.

Then again, with the changes in technology, maybe they are.

Family reunion

This afternoon I went to a family reunion. It was an interesting event - unscheduled and unplanned, I wasn't even expecting to be there. I got to talk with my dad and we were talking about some email we had exchanged. Mom was there but didn't say much, just kind of quiet and smiling. Uncle Ron, mom's brother, was there laughing his huge laugh that I remember so well and holding hands with Aunt Geneil (dad's sister) who was laughing with him.

My sister Sam was around, but again, most of what I remember is her laughter. It's such a good thing that most of my family memories are full of laughter. She chuckled as she walked past, scratching my dog under the chin and teasing me for holding him so close and tight. I was watching my daughter's children as she was playing with them over by the window. Doug and Emma were in some kind of battle which isn't new. DJ was building something.

I can remember the smells of the food - our family events always had laughter and food. I remember wondering where Jeff was because I could hear him somewhere. I always wanted to have Jeff as a brother as I didn't always get along with my two sisters. Jeff and I didn't always get along either, but it we always had fun together.

Javert, my dog, put his head on my shoulder and I remember hearing some kind of beeping or horn and thinking that it sounded odd, like it didn't belong. Then the electronic sound of something like coins dropping into a glass, maybe ice cubes? Then I recognized it as Kerry playing some game on her computer and slowly realization started to slip in.

As wonderful as my reunion was, I began to realize that it was just a dream. Dad died in '89, mom last year. Sam several years ago and Geneil back in the early '80s. I'm not sure what it means that I had both family that has passed away already and family still living with me.

I don't read much into dreams, although I love to have them. I usually dream very vividly, very graphically. I tend to smell scents and odors and can feel and touch in my dreams. And as I rose from the bliss of sleep and dreams, the smells of the food waning and the sounds fading, the laughter slowly growing quiet, I was left with the feeling of peace and warmth as the last of the dream left to me.

I miss them all, each of them. I am thankful for the memories that I have and remorseful of those that I missed. I wish I had been able to spend more time with the family although it seems like this family has a hard time getting together. Everybody wants to, but these plans never seem to come to fruition. I'm as bad as any other.

I am thankful for the opportunity that I have had the past couple of years to re-unite with some of my extended family, and friends as well, and have been blessed with renewing these relations. I can only hope that I provide something in kind back to each of them.

Memories of corn

About a week ago someone left a package on my porch. this being zucchini season, I was just a little bit leery, but it wasn't squash this time, but it was a half-dozen ears of fresh sweet corn.

Guess what dinner was...

Later, as I was shucking the corn, I commented that I hate shucking corn, then stopped to think why I hate shucking corn. Suddenly, with all the clarity and impact of an Alfred Eisenstaedt photograph, I remembered the catalyst for my dread of corn silk and husk. I don't remember how old I was at the time, maybe eight or ten years old, but my mother and her best friend Barbara Cartwright had decided that they were going to can corn to preserve it for later use. That was back in the day when most households preserved fruit and vegetables to save money and add variety to the diet during the winter months.

Mom and Barbara bought a load of corn. In my mind, for years, I would swear that it was a dump-truck load, but I'm sure it was just a pickup truck. The image of that mountain of corn, green and bright and smelling like, well, corn, is burned into my mind's eye.

At any rate, they had the corn delivered to our driveway and then mom and Barbara went to work. They also recruited help, and since they were saving money, they didn't pay the help. What they did was use indentured labor - i.e., their kids. The memories of this time which I hold are of me and my sisters Sam and Chris, mom and Barbara and her boys Steve, Tracy and Perry. All of us together shucking corn, removing the husks and silk, battling the worms and earwigs (how many do YOU think we found in a million ears of corn?) and laughing.

We laughed and we talked, and talked and laughed. There were jokes and people throwing bugs and corn. Lots and LOTS of corn. And if you thought you could get away from the corn by going into the house, then you got drafted to help dad and using the cutters to take the corn off the cobs. The cutter looked like a metal U-shaped wire with what I thought was a bent saw blade rolled into a circle to slide down the cob that was impaled on a board with a nail to hold it in place. Wet, messy and smelling of corn. (I detect a theme.)

Mom is gone, and I haven't seen Barbara for way too long. Tracy I run into once in a while and Steve and Perry are still out there. Sam was taken a few years ago and Chris is another story altogether. I can still hear the laughter. I can still feel the heat of summer in Logan and hear the crickets as we worked way into the night.

I still like to eat corn, I just hate to shuck it. But I love the memories of the friends and families that I miss.

Friends - part II

I've mentioned previously that I belong to a web forum for motorcycle riders and I want to share with you what a fantastic group of guys they are. Patrick, one of the members, has been working on an older bike and had been making progress with the repairs and took his bike for a ride. While riding, he noticed fire "dripping" from the bike. He got stopped, tried to put the fire out but sadly, a beautiful piece of machinery was destroyed. Thankfully, Patrick wasn't seriously injured other than some burns to his hands.

His reaction was typical following a loss such as this, Patrick was ready to throw in the towel as he knew he couldn't replace the bike. He was even considering dropping from the forum. The first replies were typical condolences but the thing that drew my attention was that almost immediately, post number seven to be exact, someone suggested that the members of the forum step up and send what they can, any amount, to help Patrick out. I don't know what the total is currently, but as of yesterday $1300 has been donated towards his replacement. Patrick is already shopping around for a new (to him) bike.

What a great group of guys. From a small beginning of a handful of riders in Ireland to a group of riders that are found all over the world, the brotherhood and friendship of this forum never fail to humble me.

And while I am not in a position to help Patrick out this time, something else will come up and maybe I will be in a better position to offer more than encouragement.

Additionally, I would encourage you to do something. Help out when you can, sometimes at a sacrifice. You will be blessed, the people you help will be bless more so. Donate blood. Donate your time. Sometimes, just giving someone a shoulder to cry on or an ear to vent in is enough. (Thank you Kathy.)

And, just in case you want to read a great tribute to some fine people, here is a link to the thread on that forum: Bike Fire

Ride safe.

New old friends

I got a text message from an old friend the other night. She and I were co-workers for a while, and became friends and stayed friends after we no longer worked together. She's had a couple of hard times, both personal and professional, and we've talked through many of them. She's a true friend and I love her dearly.

She and I have managed to keep in touch via the occasional phone call, email and text messaging, however due to a couple of incidents outside of her control, she was forced to change her cell phone number. Things happen.

A couple of nights ago, I got a text message from a number I didn't recognize and my first thought was that it had been a while since we've spoken. "How are you doing?" she asked. "Good, but I miss you" was my reply. "I miss you too!" came back. We went back and forth for a bit and then she said something that just didn't sound right.

"Why did she ask THAT?" I wondered. Then it hit me and suddenly I wondered if I was really speaking with her. It was late enough and I was amused enough that I just wanted to make sure I wasn't embarrassing someone. Wrong number calls go through, so do text messages.

"I don't think I'm who you meant to text." I sent. "Sure you are" the response flew back. "I hope so" I sent back. Her reply was "You're still *** and I'm still not ***." (Yeah, just a modicum of privacy here.)

Okay, she knows that about me, maybe it is her. Then I asked her if she was sure and her reply was "Yeah, it's Lori."

Not the name I was thinking of.

Doesn't even have enough letters.

Then, I thought back to our conversation which, while not intimate or anything, was personal, and I was brought up pretty short for a minute. Parallel universe? Wrinkle in time? Diverging planes of reality? Four people, two of which are conversing, who apparently share several circumstances. Then, through the magic of technology and serendipity, two of us managed to connect in a conversation.

The next thought I had was how amazed I was that two people who didn't know each other could be friends, as it were, without the foundation of shared knowledge or experiences. In truth, without any real knowledge of each other.

Am I blessed with friends? Yeah, I'd like to think so. True friends? The kind of friend that you can call in the middle of the night if you need help? Maybe not as many now. Through social networking sites such as FaceBook and the like, I've been lucky enough to reunite with some pretty great people from my past - people who I'll call friends. Would Kathy or Darrin come to me when I called at 3:00 AM? I doubt it. Are we still friends? Yes.

The difference is that they don't have the emotional investment and there has been a lot of time and distance since we were last a part of each other's lives. We have too many other personal demands on our lives and hearts and minds to commit to the casual relationships such as ours.

My findings? First, don't be too hesitant to make a friend. Sure, you want to be cautious and careful of the investment into the friendship, and there are a multitude of levels of friendship. Don't put yourself, or what you hold dear at risk by "creating" a friendship too quickly; there is obviously a growth rate to trust someone. Once you learn that and they earn that, you can build upon the trust and develop that friendship.

The next line from my is that friendships have value. All friendships have value. Some are measured in cents and some in dollars.

Last, and probably what I wanted to say most, be quick to be a friend to someone. Look at what you can invest, look at what you can give to someone, and give what you can. I know I can use all the friends I have and then some.

32 Minutes or "The Bystander Effect"

32 minutes.

Try something. Scream. Scream for 32 minutes. See if anybody does anything to help. Heck, see if anybody even notices. Would YOU notice if someone was screaming for help for over a 1/2 hour? Would you try to help?

Not everybody would. Time was, you couldn't get the words asking for help out of your mouth and your neighbors, your friends would be right there. You couldn't swing a dead cat by the tail without hitting someone who wanted to help you. If they couldn't help, they knew someone that could or they would at least comfort you while you dealt with your troubles. Hold your hand. Give you a hug. Shed a tear with you.

32 minutes.

How many times have you been sitting on the bus or walking at the mall or supermarket and observed someone in need? Someone dropping a too big load because they didn't grab a cart or a basket. A lady walking down the isle at Ace Hardware with one arm full of wooden stakes and the other arm trying to handle 4 eight-foot lengths of wood that have decided they want to go anywhere but with her. Did you do anything to help? Did you try to wrangle the oranges that were heading for all points of the compass rather than go home with them?

32 minutes.

Is it too easy to think that someone else will help or that you "don't want to get involved" or might get in trouble for helping? Do you want to grant them their anonymity in their trouble as you don't want to embarrass them? Because that young mother with her infant in a carrier and the requisite diaper bag, spare clothes, other sundry equipment used to raise and feed a baby might feel threatened by the big fat guy in biker leathers with the scowling face and growling voice?

Why? Why don't you help?

32 minutes.

Kitty was born in New York and moved to Connecticut as a child, but moved back to New York when she was old enough to leave home. Living on her own in a two-floor walk-up and working late nights set the stage for what happened to her. Coming home from work one night she was assaulted. Stabbed, strangled, raped, robbed and murdered. Kitty suffered a horrible fate begging for help. Begging and screaming for help. For 32 minutes Kitty was brutally attacked not once, not twice but three times. For 32 minutes Kitty Genovese died a slow, painful death. And nobody helped her.

32 minutes.

Kitty Genovese was coming home from work, walking across the parking lot from her car and was attacked. Her attacker was once scared off, but then returned to resume the attack as she tried to run for help, seeking people in a bar that had closed early. People in her apartment building and the one next to it shut their windows, closed their blinds and would yell at her killer to "leave the girl alone" but wouldn't get involved. One lady wouldn't let her husband even call the police because "someone" must have already. Scared away a second time, Kitty was able to get to a vestibule where she tried to hide from her assailant. He returned a third time and and found her, her own blood trail leading him to her, where he then cut her clothing away with a knife, stabbing and strangling her while he raped her.

32 minutes.

The talking heads tell us that this is called the "Bystander Effect". This is where nobody wants to or is afraid to help someone in need. "Someone" will help. "Someone" will call. "Someone" will do something.

Whatever they call it, it is wrong. Courtesy? Manners? Chivalry? I don't care what you call it but it is lacking in our society. Catherine "Kitty" Genovese died March 13, 1964 beginning at 3:15 in the morning. 46 years ago, this was a newsworthy, noteworthy event. Now, it is a daily event. Shame on us. We can do better. Do we teach our children to do better? Do we live as an example to our children?

32 minutes.

Take a minute and look at your child or children. Take a look at your grandchildren, your nieces or nephews. How many of those 32 minutes are you going to let them scream for help? I believe that we have a stewardship to not only our family, our friends and those we know, but I believe we also have a responsibility to help those we don't know.

Yeah, I know that there are those that would prey on the very people that would offer them help. And I wouldn't put anybody else at risk while I helped someone, and I would certainly protect myself and offer assistance warily, but I try to help.

We owe it to Kitty Genovese.