Tying One On

--> Ties

Cravat, bow, long, thin, wide….all assortment of material that wrap around the neck, tied in a knot.

To wear a tie was growing up. A tie and suit were the fashion of formal attire and acceptable business wear.

My first memories of trying to tie a tie was preparing for church. The Sunday finery was adored with a tie. I always had trouble with it even through countless sessions and would have to be adjusted by my parents. Clip on models seemed to be the easiest solution, but the process of wrapping this cloth around and under the collar, then quickly swirling the to ends around and over each other to form the perfect knot slide up to the throat was a right of passage.

I watched my father do this every morning after brushing his teeth, shaving with a brush and two sided razor and coming on his hair with a splash of liquid. This was a morning ritual followed by everyone’s father, every morning. A routine never wavered from until old age set in.

Everyone in church, as soon as they were old enough, wore a tie, until after the services were over and the first item to be removed was the tie. They were lined on a rack behind the closet door, never to be seen until the next Sunday.

My second memory of ties was from the movies. In the late 50’s and early 60’s, the wealthy and debonair leading men wore smoking jackets and a cravat. Also called ascots, these ties didn’t have knots. A cravat was gingerly placed around the neck, with one in turn over and stuffed into an open buttoned shirt. The immediately presented an air of elegance and distention. I also started smoking a pipe.

Anyone wearing a cravat stood out from the common man’s tie, which just hung down. The army tucked their ties into their shirts, but I found out later it was more of a practical caution than a fashion statement.

For our first gig in my first rock and roll band, I presented the cravat as part of our uniform. White pants, blue blazers, light blue shirts and navy blue cravats. It didn’t take long to figure why ties are not worn while playing rock music.

When I first started working, I didn’t wear a tie because I was doing manual labor or hidden away in a basement. Then I got a job in an office. All the movies and television shows had office workers in their business suits, like on Sunday.

So, to fit in, I got a haircut, put on a white shirt, pleaded pants, and a tie. I believe it was a straight thin black non-descript tie. After weeks of looking like a geek, I realized no one else was wearing a tie except the bosses and the salesmen. The tie came off and acceptation by the creative crowd was immediate.

When I turned 30, I decided to make a change.

It was the late 70’s and I was advancing with my job, but realized the restrictions I was placing on my future by looking like a hippie.

The day after my birthday, I arrived at the office with a haircut, clean-shaven, suit coat and a tie. The entire office, all wearing suits and ties (even the secretary), greeted me with a photographer capturing the moment. A brief article ran in the company newsletter accompanied by the photo of event asked the question, “How Long Will This New Look Last?”

Not long. The hair and neatly trimmed beard grew back, but I continued to wear ties. Bowties. Big bright colorful crazy butterfly bowties became my fashion statement. I quickly discovered that bowties and beards were not compatible; practically these huge ties that covered the front collar of the shirt and rubbed the neck. The ties were quickly frayed and the fashion phoupa was finished.

By this time, I was in management and expected to attend meetings. Everyone else was wearing a tie, but since I was in the “creative field”, they assumed I was just “too hip” to be wearing a suit and a tie. One day I suggested I have an office. The response was “I’ll build you an office if you wear a tie.”

I folded to the company requested and the walls were built with my name on the door.

After bowing to the perceived but never documented “dress code”, I began in earnest to shop for ties. The company had broken my will, but not my spirit. The usual ties started to fill the racks on the closet door. Conservative solid blue with white poke-a-dot ties, club ties with my family crest, even solid black and blue ties were the bass for my collection. Then I started finding new styles and colors in little boutiques and away from the department store mainstream. Psychedelic colors and patterns, large abstract designs, and flowers expanded my wardrobe, to match or contrast with the flowered and patterned, dark shirts which had become my new office attire. Upper management frowned on my choice, but I was wearing a TIE.

At the turn of the century, casual Friday dress started to take hold. Office workers could wear presentable attire without coats and ties. The response was immediate and the appearance of ties throughout the week was only worn for major conferences, sales meetings, or presentations.

So now I have a closet full of brightly colored neckwear, gathering dust. I know I will never wear them again, since t-shirts have become my daily dress, but I had to throw them away. I’m sure they are far out of whatever the latest trend style is, but each tells a story. A special dinner, a holiday statement, a shocking color, or a good friend.

On Father’s day, go out and get old dad a tie. Tell him to tie on one, tie it down, tie the knot, fit to be tied, or even tie-dye. He may never wear it, as my father did, but he’ll get a good laugh out of it.

Just Clowning Around

Laughter is contagious. It indicates fun, happy experiences, and the joyful company of others.

Laughter can be a mild amusement, a titter, giggle, chuckle, scoff, or fall out roll over belly guffaw.

To have the ability to make others laugh is a gift we all strive for. There are standup comedians, movies, television series, pictures, music and the Sunday comics that all try to make the rest of us laugh.

But the clown is the most notable figure associated with laughter.

A clown is a silly, foolish, playful figure that would do anything to make others laugh. A clown’s sole purpose is to create laughter.

A clown can wear outrageous outfits or simple attire. A clown can speak or use pantomime to create laughs.

Clowns have been thought of as buffoons, fools, zany, and even dimwitted, but they sat by kings and queens.

To be a clown, and fool around, tell a joke and make someone else laugh rewards a clown with pleasure and attention.

There is always a class clown or the office joker. They are invited to parties to guarantee good cheer.

Since I am not handsome or talented or sports-minded or rich or smart or famous, I had to become a jester.

Have a good laugh.

Living Alone

I remember moving into this house 30 years ago and thinking I was living alone. I wasn’t sure I was capable of survival.

Eight years before that I lived with my wife and the turmoil of an early marriage. Before that I lived at home, venturing out for a year but still connected in the same city, supplying comfort and support.

So here I am, 30 years later, living alone.

What does that mean?

For most, it would be a dream. Do whatever you want to do, whenever you want to do it. Sounds good?

I remembered 30 years ago, I settled into this abode, setting up areas for recreation and creation, but sucked myself into bland television and drugs. I would have spiral down into the abyss, but I still had to work and pay off piles of bills. Responsibility overrode decadence. Besides, I had my mother to take care of.

My father had died a year before, creating havoc and tension that would not subside. Between the stress of work – a fading marriage – and a crazy mother, something had to give.

So here I am, 30 years later, living alone.

Like a culturing pearl within a shell, all the comforts of home and pleasure are immediately available. All the toys I can imagine are within reach and plenty of room to move freely, but it not what I expected.

The quiet is deafening. Time has little meaning, except for the seasons.

To have unlimited possibilities, without another’s input or rejection is daunting.

There is no one to ask, “What do YOU need today?” or “Where would YOU like to go?” or “What would YOU like to do?” or even “What do YOU think?”.

I stand at the gate in my orange jump suit, waiting for the door to open for exercise period.

Taking Care of Yourself

Do we know how to take care of ourselves?

We understand our basic needs of shelter, food, water, and warmth and work hard to supply what is necessary to survive.

Do we know how to take care of ourselves?

We read books, listen to reports, and discuss among ourselves how we should exercise and eat better, but never do.

Do we know how to take care of ourselves?

We form partnerships and create families to care for and hopefully in later years care for us, but this is not guaranteed.

Do we know how to take care of ourselves?

We build huge palaces to our excessive behavior, forage on abundance of fuel, and spend outrageous amounts of our hard earned meager pay to taxes providing organizations to be created and expanded into a web of maddening bureaucracy offering assistance to the individual yet bogged down in the mire.

Do we know how to take care of ourselves?

What do you do when the money runs out?

We all have this problem at one time or another. Sometimes we live from paycheck to paycheck. Sometimes we borrow from friends or family. Sometimes we suck it up and hold off on that next purchase.

But what happens when the money runs out?

ALL the money!

Looking at the financial instability of nations borrowing from other nations with assets of air, what would happen if some day they all stopped and said, “Pay Up!”.

Just like a bank, would they sent bill collectors to the door to harass each other?

Would countries print more money to cover the bills with worthless paper? Would they invade the others privacy with armed bullies to pillage the physical property which indicated wealth?

Or would they just throw away the books and start all over again?

Reading about foreclosures and bankruptcies of families today, even with the excuse of over borrowing against income, many are throwing in the towel and starting over. This leads to depression, alcoholism, destruction of core families, drop-outs, homelessness, and even suicide. The banks are stuck with property that is lower in value or sometimes worthless. Cities are filled with abandoned buildings, warehouses full of reprocessed items, and increase crime and health problems.

We can all look back and point fingers, but it was pure greed that made all this happen. When my house was assessed for over five times of it’s worth, the writing was on the wall (literally).

Did we always think “That next raise will put me over the top and I can pay off some bills”? Was our thinking that if we bought something with plastic money we didn’t have and couldn’t pay back, the bill collectors would just go away?

What happened to “pay as you go” or “live within your means”? I just we were having such a good time, we forgot the lessons of the recent depression our parents endured. Did our consumerism overtake our common sense?

So what would happen if we threw away the books and start all over again?

When the debt balance disappears, businesses start to experiment, expand and hire. People would become more productive and happier without the worry of debt. Banks and lending establishment could start with fiscal policies that are reasonable and regulated.

We all started working at some point with nothing and we pride ourselves on our accomplishments and hard work by displaying our homes, cars, clothing, and other material signs accepted by society as wealth.

And deep within the psyche, our real wealth is having provided an effort for the necessary monetary reward to provided for survival.

Taken with a grain of salt, I’m a simple person with simple needs. I do not have vast fortunes of stocks and bonds and piles of cash. I do not want more than I can use. I’m do not value myself on my worldly goods or concerned for not having the latest gizmo.

I have no debt and a little bit of money that I will spend before I go, but I contemplate.

“What would I do if ALL the money ran out?”

Marking Your Territory

Watching the animal world, you note how each species marks their territory. The territories might me miles or a small patch of ground. Some animals chase away intruders while other just mark their land with bodily fluids.

These zones are conquered and clearly marked by an owner. Some visitors are allowed to enter without confrontation to create a group.

These zones are normally arranged around food and home. Babies are violently protected yet supplies of food will be shared.

Some zones are invaded by outside predators where occupants gather to battle the intruder. The layers of the intensity will change in an instant. The crows will chase away the hawks, then the blue jay will chase the crows.

The smaller and weaker creatures use cover to hide and wait for the conflict to subside.

For the others in the animal world, we mark our territories with maps and engineers surveying borders marking it with flags and marks on the ground and publishing visions of territories separated by foliage or fences.

These territories are acquired or just borrowed for a time for people to live in a space in safe contemplation.

The animal world follows food and moves on with the season, yet we stay in our comfortable structures of wood surrounded by our every want within easy reach.

Excuse me but I have to go out and pee on the sidewalk to mark my territory.

And the Walls Came Tumbling Down

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They are in there. They are banging and bashing. Making such a racket on what I have left. It’s not a lot, but it is all I have left.

A man who I’ve met only once. Referred by a plumber. Without a reference and on blind faith, I’ve shown him the work needed. He seemed professional. He had a tape measure and everything. His estimate seemed resemble, but I have nothing to compare it too.

One phone call and the deal was made.

My preparation meant moving furniture into cramp spaces. No sweeping or cleaning, just giving space to a man I didn’t know to tear down the walls. I thought about moving some things upstairs, but thought better of it by the steepness of the steps and the weight of the objects, so they sit in the living room.

The rest of the material from the attic was removed, filling the trash quota for another week.

He arrived on time this morning. That’s a good sign?

And he brought a friend.

Reviewing the area to be cleared, then handing me the proposal. It matched what he had written on the back of his card and photographed with his phone during our first meeting.

I’ve been looking at these holes in the walls for months and hope that this will be the jumpstart to the next project. Additional estimates are outstanding for the trim repairs, new doors under the house, dormers patched or replaced, and a new roof, but I can be painting inside while all that is going on outside.

But what of the unknown?

Suppose they hit a wire and cut out the electricity? Or start a fire? Or knock down the ceiling fan I just had installed last week? Or they do a really crappy job and I have to hire someone else to repair the repairs?

So here I sit in Mansland, listening to strangers tearing up my house.