M*I*N*E*

Usual Spring sunny Sunday morning has begun. Woke up in a sweat from the same topic of dreams – the unsolvable problem. After a cup of coffee and some fruit, the silliness of the internet, a repeat of “This American Life”, strap on the jeans that must be replaced soon and pull out on the road. The spots of cracks are evident with water edges like broken glass. These will be the next potholes. The wobble in the back tire hasn’t gone away so I guess I’ll take her in for a spring checkup then get some new jeans.

Been going through my past five years of blogging looking for trends and subjects. There have been many phases, but I see some recurring themes and have been thinking about them.

But the real thought of the morning was a phrase a friend sent in a note about his wife saying: “Them or me”. He was discussing a statement that has probably been made by many couples, but it hit a nerve for me.

From what I understand about dating and becoming a boyfriend/girlfriend is the commitment to one another to only date each other. The deal is often sealed with a ring or pin or necklace. There is a certain security in such dating, but it can also mean some tough encounters when another person tries to cut in. “She’s mine!” can be a battle cry.

Have you ever noticed the lyrics of songs? “I’m gonna make her mine.” Or “She’ll be mine tonight.” Or “Will you be mine.” What does not mean?

Mine usually means that someone has acquired something for his or her personal collection. Mine means the item belongs to one as a valuable possession. Mine defines ownership of the property or a state of being controlled. 

When you are dating or even in engagement, you don’t transfer money for possession. Well there might be a dowry but that is just an offer to secure the deal. The groom asks the bride’s father for her hand, but intends to get the entire body. And the bride’s family will pay for the wedding ceremony but that is perhaps a deal to get her from under their house on the promise that the groom will pay future housing, clothing, meals, transportation, education, security and bedding. Maybe the groom doesn’t realize what the cost will eventually be.

The marriage license and ceremony with verbal promises of devotion to one another symbolized with an exchange of rings, recognition by the commonwealth, and sharing of the last name should guarantee that she is “mine” and I am “yours”. Doesn’t always work out that way.

Our species, no matter what security we need to retain a mate, is always wandering. We explore new places and meet others in our travels. We are always looking for something better and appreciate any attention along the way. Our moral dilemma is to decide how we use our freedom when apart from our partner or how we live in the missionary position forever.

And now here is a story about being “mine”. Do you remember the last episode of M*A*S*H? I’m talking about the television series not the movie. The movie I saw in a theatre then went off to climb a mountain under certain chemical influence. The television series started in the seventies and ended in the early 80’s. Out of habit or just the good writing and acting I watched it through the first divorce, the times alone, and into a second marriage.

As the story goes, the last episode was going to be a big event. This was going to be as big as “Who Shot J.R.?” or “Luke and Laura’s wedding”. That shows how much television was being watched in this house. After the seven o’clock M*A*S*H show I pretty well turned off my interest or went back to work writing reports and schedules and budgets.

But M*A*S*H was a constant for my girlfriend/wife and me so with a lot of time on her hands, she planned a special event.

When I opened the door after a long day of work, the entire house had been transformed into a 1950’s Korean War military camp. The 4077 had moved into my living room.

Sheets and blankets had been attached to the ceiling draping across to resemble tents. My old wooden WWII footlocker was the dining table. Flashlights and candles brought the mood lighting down. The coat tree was covered in signs and any other reference she could assemble was placed around the living room.

A change of cloths into a white sweatshirt with paper letters of M*I*N*E were pinned to the front. Even cardboard dog tags stating I was hers and she was “mine” had to be worn. It was very sweet and unusual and kind of freaked me out.

I learned later just how much the word “mine” would mean, but by then lost contact with former and present friends and only had communication with others at work. A relationship requires a lot of attention and time and as it progresses, there is not enough to give to others. Perhaps this is the price we pay?

“Goodbye, Farewell, and Amen”.

The First

Maybe that sound rude but there is always a “first”. Our history is made of a “first” kiss, a “first” drive, a “first” taste, and a “first” job. We all experience these “first”. Sometimes our “first” are by ourselves and sometimes with another.

These are memorable events that carve our ever-changing lifestyle and perhaps shape our future.

Some of these “first” events may not be life shattering or even maybe forgotten. The “first” drink, the “first” smoke, the “first” night out will only be remembered if the consequences were disastrous. The “first” could be a consensual decision or be swayed by social pressure.

Then there is that “first” intimate moment. The person you share this moment with will be engrained into your soul forever. Some stay with their “first” and get married and live happily ever after and some can barely remember what he or she looked like. No matter how many other special moments take place, the “first” will hold that one place in your heart.

I remember being the “first” with a few. Some were shocking and some were very revealing. Some I may never ever know about because the other person went away. Some may have even been the “first” and I didn’t know. Some I will never forget.

My second wife described to me her “first” with great celebration. I was not her first but enjoyed the story with a certain jealous humor. I don’t think she will mind me sharing. She had been dating this guy (no, I don’t remember his name) and one night they decided to go out on a golf course to…. Well, you know. She said the moment was loving and tender and slow and concerned for each other and she glowed when she talked about it.

The golf course was next to a train track and at that special moment a train came by so they both got up and ran along the tracks buck-naked waiving at the passengers. OK, stop giggling.

My “first” was sort of a friend turned into a lover. She was one of a group of friends that would hang around together. We were young enough not to be over zealous about exploring but old enough to feel the internal changes. All day we hung around with each other, just pals swimming, surfing, laughing, singing, running on the beach and just sharing time together. There were no pairs or boyfriend/girlfriend connections, just a group of kids enjoying the summer.

Every evening we would gather on the beach, build a bon fire, and sing, dance and tell pirate stories.  As the night grew darker, couples started to separate from the group and wander down the beach and into the dunes. We were becoming of age.

So a hometown girl and I decided to take the trip. I had noticed the changes through the years but only saw her a month or so during the summer. What used to be a tomboy in pigtails and her rough and tumble ways had changed into a soft and lumpy tight bathing suit. Her voice was softer and quiet and even though I couldn’t hear ever word, I was at awe in her thoughts.

Like most boys, we had been fumbling around and without knowing what we were doing trying to act a suave as James Bond. We even snuck a couple of peeks at some girlie magazines to see what all the fuss was about.

Somewhere along the way I had this plaque up on the wall of my bedroom. It was two little kids looking into their diapers. The statement under the drawing said, “There Is A Difference”. Don’t know why I had it or why my parents would have given it to me.

So my “first” was that kind of moment. It was an “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours” kind of moment. We were more curious than amorous. What started off as a giggly touch and rub turned into a familiar closeness and exploration? Without having any idea of avoidance of certain consequences each time we went a little further. We never expressed love or affection to each other but were more than willing to continue.

The summer season came to an end and I had to go back home to go to school. We didn’t have one of those long good-bye moments, but a look and a wink that another summer will come next year.

About the end of the school year my cousin called me and said he was coming up to see me. There was something very important I needed to know.

Let me explain something about my cousin. He was the foreman of our little parties on the beach. He was the local mixer upper and was always on the edge. He learned how to drive a motorboat, ski, surf, and parachute. He even learned how to fly a plane.

So he flew up one night and called. I got a ride to the airport and he threw me in and flew back in the darkness. It seemed like another crazy adventure by my even crazier cousin until he started talking to me. “Cookie is having YOUR baby,” he said.

I couldn’t calculate in my head what he was talking about but I started taking his words very seriously. As he landed, rather roughly, my mind was spinning with what may lay ahead. I had not graduated high school and I was going to be a father?

My cousin, who of course was not driving age, had a car available to drive to the hospital. As morning was breaking, we found the room but had to wait until we could have access. By then I was going crazy with the possibilities and then there she was. Not with one but two babies. She looked very different than the girl on the beach. She was looking motherly.

We talked for a few minutes while my cousin listened in the corner. She told me she had met this guy and these babies were not mine. She told me they were going to get married and raise a family. She had become a different person than the one I knew on the beach.

I called my parents to tell them of the adventure and calm nerves and get enough money for a train ride home. My cousin and I were grounded as we often were, but we talked our way out of it.

I was relieved to not have to change my lifestyle of nonsense and vulgarity and lost contact with my “first”.

I continued to stumble in and out of “first” and slowly learned my lessons. Unfortunately “my first” died of cancer, but the memories of our exploration will always survive.

Thanks for sharing.

End of the year

Now the taxes are done and the new years of projects are ahead, I define the last year in financial terms. In other words, I see where the money went.

For years, I would get paid and spend what I made. At first I tried to be frugal and logical with a savings account, life insurance, and somewhat of a budget. Then the credit started flowing in and the ability to buy whatever the family wanted expanded into spending more than what was coming in. But it was credit and you only had to pay the minimum fee to continue to buy more stuff.

After some time, the credit cards were shredded and the budgets adhered to. At the end of the year it is still interesting to see where the money goes.

A couple of years of big expenses to the house, the budget is suddenly into a casual routine. There seems to be enough money in the bank to pay the bills and buy the food and even splurge every now and then.

Maybe everyone isn’t divided the same way in a pie chart, but this is mine, at least for now.

Having Faith

Since this is the season of the springtime reawakening and the celebration of the Easter bunny I thought I would bring up this word “Faith” again.

Faith is defined as “confidence or trust in a person or thing, or a deity or in the doctrines or teachings of a religion”. Faith may also be a belief that cannot be based on proof.

Faith is one of those feelings that cannot be explained, like hope or love. Faith is one of our personal senses.

Sometimes our faith comes from experiences and sometimes our faith is thrust upon us. We give our time and money to many organizations with the faith we are doing the right thing. Our faith can be shared or our faith can be blind.

Faith often involves accepting a deity, explanation of nature, or the description of our universe. Proponents argue that having faith will answer our concerns that cannot be settled by evidence.

Just so you don’t picture me as some kind of a heathen, I grew up in the organized religion called Christianity. It was the family practice to wake early on Sunday morning, dress in our best attire, and sit in the same pew at the same time to hear some old white guy read out of a book. Then we would all sing songs. I attended Sunday school and even Bible school during the summer. I was taught all the stories. I sang in the choir. I was baptized so I could eat the bread and drink the grape juice that went around. It was like joining a club. I was told the answers were in believing. “Have faith” they would preach.

Organized religion got me to join the scouts, which is like the junior army. I got to find out what poison ivy was all about. I got to swim in a lake with water moccasins. I got to light fires and track animals and get badges for my effort. I got to paddle a canoe, which is the worst form of transportation ever.

As I grew older and started to question what was being taught, I realized the words that were spoken on Sunday morning and the day-to-day lifestyles of all who attended were not the same. In some causes, they are not even close. I guess if you tithe enough you can buy off your daily sins?

But back to faith and what do we do with it? When things are bad, we have faith they will get better. When things are good, we have faith that they won’t go bad. Faith is that intangible explanation to our physic that everything will be OK.

You have to have faith that the girl will like you. You have to have faith that the teacher will not recognize your attempt to forgery your parent’s signature on the report card. You have faith that if you slump down in your seat the teacher will think you are invisible. You have faith that that baby is someone else’s. You have faith the parachute will open. You have faith that even if your mind is telling you that driving this fast is wrong, you will survive. You have faith you can get away before her mom finds you. You have faith that your boss will be fair and give you raises for just showing up.

Getting back to the holiday at hand, you can see what I associated this Sunday with. I don’t know why I got a big blue bunny. I didn’t sleep with it or name it or even remember why I got it, but I guess it was good for a photo shoot. The basket full of sugar, like treats on Halloween and Christmas, was what I wanted. Hollow chocolate rabbits and M&Ms and Jordan almonds were my favorites. I learned what candies I preferred for this holiday. Jellybeans, peeps and creamed filled eggs did not make the cut.

And now that I know that my brother is the Easter bunny that explains a lot of things. Now I just need to find out who the Tooth Fairy and Father Christmas are.

I wandered off again from the subject, but faith is very subjective. You believe what you want to believe and luckily in this area you can believe whatever you want. Shoot it is built into our laws of human rights. I won’t get into the different variations of belief because this is all about faith.

I have faith that the sun will come up every morning and the darkness will arrive every night. I have faith that the world will keep turning and keep us grounded. I have faith if I supply an area of safe shelter and provide enough grub to the critters who live with me, I can wake up to a song that could never be composed. I have faith in myself to take care of myself, and on certain occasions, surprise a few others.

Every special holiday Sunday our family would put flowers on. This may be an Easter shot, but looking at the roses this may have been Mother’s day. I don’t know where my brother was or who that red haired kid is. I think he was a kid from an orphanage. I don’t know why but maybe our family sponsored him for a weekend. That really doesn’t sound like I family. I just thought he was my replacement. 

 

So enjoy your bunny treats or bonnets or just March Madness and have some Faith. Don’t forget her sisters Hope and Charity.

What Is Wrong With You?

As we get older we change. The hair gets thinner as the body gets thicker. Little aches and pains appear as flexibility diminishes. It is just part of life and we all know it. We’ve seen it in our parents and grandparents but never relate these changes to ourselves until it is to late.

When we gather for a party or around family or even at work, we talk about our ailments. We share stories about dealing with the pain and offer solutions others have tried.

Watching daytime television we find there are a whole bunch of ailments we have and never knew about. Luckily there is a solution for every one of them.

There are creams for wrinkles, pills for weight loss, magic potions for energy, all sorts of exercise machines to get you fit or chairs on rollers if needed. There is even a long list of lawyers who say you should be paid for being disabled.

What’s up with that? Get paid for being sick?

Being sick or feeling ill or having pain is not very much fun, but if it makes you money. With all the ailments around there may be some cash in yours. At least take the time to fill out some forms and see what you can get. This seems to be a theme of daytime television.

Unfortunately I have the scares of going to the doctor and getting put back together again so I try not to get any more. I avoid the hospitals because that is where they keep sick people. I avoid the doc-in-the-box offices because you can pick up all kind of stuff there. And when you see a kid or worse, a bunch of kids, you know they are carrying every disease in the world. Even at the store if a person in the same aisle sneezes, I turn around and head the other direction.

I’m not totally immune. Once a year I get a cold. The usual stuffed up head, sniffles and runny nose. Three days coming, three day here, and three days going is my rule of thumb. It is the only time I buy medicine. One pack of antihistamine will last for the period of the cold. After that I’m done.

Now we all get a little twinge of a snuffle when spring starts and can get a sneeze or two from dust bunnies (don’t come to my house) but for the most part, I we get outside and take some deep breathes while walking to the store or riding your bike in the open air, the body adjust and you keep moving.

Other than that, I take no pills or ointments. Well, let me clarify that statement. I do put band aids on cuts or slaughter Vick’s vapor-rub on when it is difficult to sleep or rub down with Vaseline when the skin is tired, but that is all in the medicine cabinet. The aspirin bottle is full and at least five years old. The hot rub cream is not needed since I’ve gotten old and slow and less likely to pull a muscle.

In a couple of months I’ll be invited to join the Medicare family so I don’t think it is worth my time to try and get a couple of bucks for some made up ailment or condition.

Then again, I like it this way.

How to make a friend

What is a friend?

 A description of a friend might include an alter ego, an amigo, a buddy, a chum, a compadre, a comrade, a confidant, a crony, a familiar, an intimate, a mate, a musketeer, or a pal

Or perhaps an acquaintance, an associate, a cohort, a colleague, a companion, a fellow, a hearty, a hobnobber, a partner, a peer, a sport; a brother, a main man, an accomplice, a ally, a collaborator, a confederate; a pen pal, a benefactor, a supporter, a sympathizer, or a well-wisher.

Friends can also be an adversary, an antagonist, a competitor, an opponent, a rival and even a nemesis.

So how do you make one of these “friends”?

Your first friends are family. The immediate family of mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters has to be your friends because you live with them. You eat and sleep and bath and spend quality time with them. The extended family of aunts and uncles and cousins become our next friends. We are all friends because we all have the same last name. We are buddies for life?

Our next association with others is school. Thrown in a classroom with 20 to 30 strangers, we form a bond of being together before an adult teacher. Quickly we find common grounds and form associations. Away from our family protection we depend on each other for survival. Being very young, these friendships are fleeting.

Next come the groupings of church, choirs, scouts, teams, and clubs. With parental guidance we are again thrown into a group of strangers to learn social activities. This is the first training outside of the family to follow the perceived values engrained in our particular cultural grouping. We learn to dress alike. We learn to sing alike. We learn to follow orders. We learn camaraderie. We learn how to tie knots.

By the time teen years come around we are experienced enough and maybe smart enough to start making our own decision on those we want to be associated with. We can now decide who will be our friends. Here associates bond over parties, girlfriends, dances, and growing up.

When college takes place former friends separate to different locations. Much of friendship is the close proximity of each other until time changes daily communication.

Some friendships continue through the ages and some fade away. Some can be reunited through technology and some will never happen again. Some are remembered and some are gone.

So how do you make a friend? Here are some hints some say work to make a friend.

1. Follow your intuition. At any time or any place when you walk into a room you cannot help but scan the room. A face or stance or a look might attract your attention. Follow your intuition to introduce yourself to the person who has interested you. It may be only a physical attraction but it may turn into a friendship.

2. Engage your passion. Paint or play music or run or go to the gym and sooner or later your will find someone who also engages in the same passion. That may create a friendship.

3. Buy a puppy. If you really want to meet someone, get a puppy. I don’t recommend buying a puppy with all the shelter alternatives, but a puppy, unlike a cat, will bring the others to your door. Guaranteed. Pups are chick magnets. Dogs are a mans best friend, but when you are shouting at the television over a field goal, your dog will just look at your and smile.

4. Start a hobby. Hobbies are those fun things we like to do but you can also find a friend. Whether it is art or dancing or whatever turns you on, there is a group out there who also enjoy theses things. Taking a painting class or cooking class or go to the gym and you will meet others who enjoy the same things. It may be the passion or just a class; you share the attempt and may form a friendship.

5. Widen your age-range view. Sounds easy but then again a younger or perhaps older friend could be easy to get along with. As we age, age does not make as much difference as it did in our youth. Besides, a different focus on certain subjects may for an interesting friendship.

6. Build a community garden. Really? Well if you open up a plot of land and dig it up and put some greens in and water it and trim it and guess what. Other people will appreciate your effort and ask if they too can participate. Digging in the dirt is a great way to make a friend, whether it is human or animal.

7. Reconnect with people from your past. We all lose touch with old friends. They get married and focus on their families. They move away. They change their values or interest that once was. Yet the old bonds are still there. For whatever reasons, the reconnect can take place. We can be friends again.

8. If adventurous, use the Internet. There are lots of sites out there that can connect you with all kinds of “friends” who can be real or not real. Post some profiles and upload some pictures and hope for the best. Are you that desperate to make friends?

So to make a friend is just to be you and meet others in an un-stressful location and just see if there are any connections. If after a while you want to spend more time with this person, a friendship is starting.

A friend, a true friend, is someone you can sit quietly with in comfort. You do not need to entertain a friend or expect anything from a friend. A friend is like an old comfortable shoe. A friend has gone through enough experiences with you to offer assistance when needed and give advice when asked. A friend will laugh at your jokes and listen to your miseries. A friend will keep your secrets and won’t judge your actions.

Then there is that boyfriend/girlfriend thing. When a friend gets an emotional connection all values of friendship changes.

The Sleepover

As a kid I would have sleepovers and went to sleepovers. You know what they are. It is when all the parents dump all the kids in one place for the night. Of course they are separated by gender. Then the parents who sponsor this occasion must feed, clothe, and provide entertainment and protection to the overzealous kids who feed off of each other’s energy until they drop from exhaustion. Most of my sleepovers were just one kid would stay the night at my house or I would stay the night at another’s house. We would eat popcorn and watch television then fall asleep in our jammies. It was like being in another family for the night. Don’t know what the girls did, but the guys would play soldiers or pirates or wrestle until we got old enough for physical changes to happen.

Then there was the big sleepover. Camp. Camp was made for a bunch of boys to be dumped by their parents to a far away place for week. We would sleep in drafty cabins on wooden bunks, wear the same cloths, sweat in the heat and play in the dirt. A bunch of teenagers were in charge of us, but like prison, we had no place to go or any method to get there. After a month or so, our parents would arrive to drag us back to school.

Then again, there was the sleepover of ’66. A hearty band of high school students gathered at a friend’s house for an impromptu party when it started to snow. His mom was nice enough to call all the other’s mothers and fathers to ask permission to store the kids for the night rather than send them out into the weather. All of the boys and girls were excited at the possibilities but a few did not get permission and had to leave. We gallant lads escorted each and every one of them back to their homes safely then waded back through the thickening white stuff to the gathering. With warm drinks and sleeping bags we dried off. The girls retired to the upstairs while the boys attended a story telling session by my friend’s father. Once or twice the girls would try to slip downstairs but were always caught. The next morning we celebrated our short sleep with a hearty breakfast and a few sly looks of what could have been before trudging out into the snow with our memories.

Today the sleepover is much more complicated. It may be caused with bad weather or the late hour or possibility of too many adult beverages. A sleepover can be the results of a random meeting leading into an invitation inside another’s home.

Whether it is a physical adventure or a parental comforting, the morning will come with the thought, “Now What?”

Some years ago I used to walk to work. A friend of mine who lived a block away would walk with me. One morning I went to his apartment to see if he was ready. Upon opening the door I noticed he was not alone. A girl I knew from work was coming out of the bedroom. She acknowledged me, kissed him and left. It was a quiet walk downtown because I didn’t know what to say.

Sleepovers are like that. Maybe the next morning you share a shower or have a breakfast but it has to end. So what is to be said? “Thanks, that was fun.” Or “Let’s do this again sometime.” Or “Do you want me to call you?”

Some sleepovers turn into something else while some are just notches on the bedpost. Mine turned into a twenty-five year marriage.