Wednesday, November 7, 2012

Day 312: Post-Election Blues...

No matter how things turned out for you during these elections, for me I can honestly say the best thing I experienced throughout this long and arduous process was that we Americans are still a pretty passionate lot.  Even over the years of being numbed to one thing or another, we can still get our dander up over those things we feel are important to us.  I love the fact that my circle of family and friends come from such diverse backgrounds and have very strong beliefs and are not afraid to express them. 

I will say it was a real challenge this time trying to pick the right leader for our country.  I think both candidates brought some good ideas to the table that would certainly help our current predicament. But they also brought a lot of crap as well.  I'm not against a party system but the one we have has morphed into something that offers very few real choices for Americans.  It's an all or nothing proposition.  It's like going to a fast food restaurant and only having two meals to choose from and there are no substitutions.  Why can't we have our politics A la cart?  If there was another candidate that had the positive qualities of both the Romney and Obama platforms I think we would've seen much different results in last night's election. 

I suppose that as long as there's big business and big bucks driving these elections we'll continue to struggle with putting a viable leader in the White House.  Let's face it, the candidates are just figure heads to something much larger and perhaps more sinister. I just wish I knew who or what it was so I'd know where my vote was really going.  But in the mean time, it warms my heart to see my friends and family so passionate about their country and about their rights.  Not a lot of other countries can boast this kind of patriotic fervor. 

It's nice that these elections only happen once every four years.  Heck, we should consider holding them every six years.  The online rants and ravings will finally come to an end and we can go back to focusing on the more important things like sharing those "must share" Facebook posts or risk going to hell.  You know, I guess the day when we become apathetic about our county is the day we no longer call ourselves Americans.  Here's to the fight in all of us!


Tuesday, November 6, 2012

Day 311: Letter to Nicole...

You opened the door and I wouldn't say your eyes were throwing me daggers but they certainly had the look of unbridled disappointment.  You stood there with your matted hair, black rimmed glasses and baggy t-shirt, focusing all your disgust towards this intruder who was looking to take a spot in your mother's heart, a spot you owned all your life.  No "hello", just a glare.  A long, silent glare.  Heck, I don't think you even blinked.  You figured the flowers I brought were for your mom, some lame cliche gift of affection from another would be boyfriend.  I couldn't tell at the time but rumor has it that when I presented them to you, you were actually surprised and just a little bit pleased.  Hey, I knew any and all paths to your mother's heart would go through you.  For the next few months the glares shortened in length and intensity.  But I did heard on more than a few occasions, "Ugh, he's here AGAIN?!"  Ah, who doesn't like to hear that?  (wink)

That was almost nine years ago and we've been on an amazing journey ever since.  I've seen you go from a gawky 12 year old to a very beautiful, intelligent and independent young woman.  Even though we've only been a family for a short time I can't imagine a life without you.  One of my favorite memories of you was at the wedding.  The ceremony was over and we just wrapped up the part of the photo session with you and Sam.  That image of you and Sam running through the sand to get to the limo just so you guys could plow through the champagne is one of my more cherished moments.  You've had some difficult times in your life, some challenges that many other kids never had to endure but you've made it through them all stronger and more determined.  I know you doubt yourself from time to time and that's ok, we all do that.  But don't ever lose sight of the fact you are an amazing young woman with so much to offer this world. 

Nicole, you've been such a blessing to me.  I can't wait to see how life will unfold before you.  I know good fortune lies ahead of you.  So no matter where life takes you, always know in your heart that I love you.  You are my special little angel.

Much love and Happy 21st Birthday!

John
(aka, Evil Step-Father)

Monday, November 5, 2012

Day 310: The next American Idol...

So I was out driving yesterday and it occurred to me I have a helluva singing voice.  No, seriously (wink).  I hear that a lot of folks like to sing in the shower.  I was never much for belting out a tune while lathering up the suds.  Get in, get out and be on my way.  For me my "studio" was and still is my car.  I don't know what it is.  Put me in a church or any other public forum and my attempts at singing sound more like an animal being eaten alive rather than the sexy, smooth vocals you would hear in my car.  I mean I've got range that would make Maria Carey jealous beyond words.  Compared to me Pavarotti sounds like the 4th place finisher at Karaoke Night in a crappy ass bar outside Provo, Utah. I can nail the high, screechy notes like Axel Rose in "Sweet Child of Mine" as well as the deep, smoldering tones of Lou Rawls in "You'll Never Find Another Love Like Mine".  And don't get me started on Jesus Christ Superstar.  I could literally play all roles simultaneously.  "JESUS!!!! You've started to believe the things they've said of you...."

And it's not just singing.  I'm the best seated dancer you'll ever find.  Shakin' dat booty down the freeway, baby!  Never mastered the air drums but my air guitar skills are beyond compare.  Over the years I've refined my technique of driving with my knees so I can rip through the guitar solos of "Free Bird" and "Enter Sandman".  Now if only I had the big hair, then my car-driving, rock star persona would be complete.  Yeah, they REALLY need a suburbia version of American Idol.  If for no other reason than to give us wanna-bees an opportunity to show case our wicked, albeit delusional, skills. 

ROCK ON!!

Oh, and just a side not to all you radio stations that claim to be "Classic Rock".  If your menu of songs includes anything from Cheap Trick, John Mellencamp or Rush or if the only song you play by the Eagles is "Hotel California", then turn in your Classic Rock card and change your format to something like farm reporting or talk radio.  You've soiled the name of "Classic Rock" long enough.  To be a true classic rock station you must have the courage to take those old LPs, flip them over, and play the awesome B side songs that were more often than not better than the "popular" songs of their day. 

Sunday, November 4, 2012

Day 309: Zzzzzzzz... Not!

"2:50 AM.  Oh for the love of God!  You've got to be kidding me.  I'm up, awake?  On a Sunday morning when I should be sleeping soundly you're telling me it's time to get up?"

Yep, that was the little conversation I had with myself this morning.  Un-frickin'-believable!  This is suppose to be the one morning where I can catch up on a little lost sleep from the past week.  But oh no, not me.  Fall's daylight savings time is one of the favorite times for most people.  They all say how much they'll get to enjoy an extra hour of sleep.  I never really understood that considering it's Sunday and unless you go to some sunrise service you can pretty much sleep in as long as you want regardless of the time change.  For me, though, the time change means I'll be getting up an hour earlier.  My body pays little attention to the workings of my alarm clock.  Apparently I've got some internal clock that wakes me within five or six hours from the time I went to sleep.  Maybe it's that damn, old Army recruiting slogan that must be embedded into my genetic make up... "We do more before 9:00AM then most people do in an entire day."

Man I can still recall my youth where I could sleep in until 11:30 or so.  The only thing that would keep me from sleeping in longer was my dad blasting the stereo with the sounds of screeching Scottish bagpipes, Native American Indian chants or old German military marching songs.  Even in college when I had ROTC field exercises I would freak out if I didn't get my eight hours of sleep.  Now I can stay up past 10:00 and wake up at 3:30 or 4:00 and be ready to go.  What the hell?  Why can't I be normal?  But I guess to look at the positive side, being an early riser does kinda play into my wheel house.  I do enjoy my solitude.  Whether it's to head out on an early morning hike/photo safari, or working on my computer processing photos or my absolute favorite, watching old movie classics, it is a pretty enjoyable time of the day (night) for me.

But still, only six hours of sleep a night.  Is this an old person thing? 


Saturday, November 3, 2012

Day 308: What I choose to remember...


You've seen those phenomenal athletes that stayed in the league a few years more than they should've, putting a slight tarnish on their otherwise stellar career.  But as time goes by you forget Joe or Brent's journeyman years and just remember their glory years in San Francisco and Green Bay.  I saw my grandfather just days before he died, lying there in his hospital bed, a shell of the man he use to be.  We had our run-ins from time to time which included getting hit when I was a teenager but I can tell you honestly that when I think of him now I remember him taking me on errands around San Francisco, sitting with him in his office watching "Sports Challenge" or as a child how he'd lift me up by my belt and swing me around.  He was a great man in many respects but like the rest of us had his fair share of flaws.  The point being, no matter how they finished their careers or how they crossed the finish line of life, the things that made them great are the things I choose to remember. 

Today we're in the midst of another family drama where lines have been drawn by those who seek not the greater good of the family but to ensure their place in the hierarchy of inheritance.  The unfortunate and sad part of this is the inability of those who should step up and do what's right are lacking the courage to do so.  I understand it's mostly because some folks don't like confrontation but for all of you that say you're non-confrontational, your actions and inaction are the source of confrontation, especially for those around you.  To say you're non-confrontational is in many ways admitting you're a selfish person.  You create an environment of unrest, putting the rest of us in a position of having to quell the emotional uprisings that you've created.  I'm not saying we all need to be bullies but we need to understand that sometimes life requires us to step into the ring and fight for what is right.  Doesn't mean we have to fight dirty but we need to struggle sometimes to ensure that we fight for truth and integrity and sometimes that means fighting for those unable or unwilling to do so for themselves.

I've had my fair share of struggles with people throughout my life, some more vicious than others but of all those one-time adversaries I hold no ill will.  Whether it's my grandfather, my ex, an old classmate or work colleague, I remember the good in them and enjoy the fond memories created years ago.  Hey, there was a reason they were in your life in the first place.  As struggles persist, eventually there will come a time when enough is enough.  When you've done all you can do, when you've been honest and true to yourself and to those around you, eventually you have to lay down your sword and basically say "goodbye" to the hurt and move on to the loving memories of the past and the promise of tomorrow.  It's not saying that you've compromised or conceded the battle.  What it means is that you've expressed your true self.  You've expressed what you feel is right and no amount of fighting will make any more of a difference.  As they say in business, it's a point of diminishing returns.  For those combatants, even after their so-called victory, they will continue to fight, fight for anything because within them is an abyss, a black hole within their heart, a fire, if you will, that burns for relief.  Perhaps that's the hell our religions speak of, the unquenchable fire that ultimately pulls us into our own abyss. But even for those dark-hearted souls, I still love and appreciate them for who they are and will always cherish the good memories.  I just pray that they would step away from the edge.

I choose to remember the good in everyone I've met in my life because everyone, and I mean everyone, has some amount of good in them.  We  may allow other things to manipulate our personalities and drive our behaviors but deep down there's still that sweet, innocent child in all of us, the one that plays freely, laughs loudly and loves unconditionally.  And who doesn't love a child?

Friday, November 2, 2012

Day 307: I AM a "Brat"...



I’ve kinda dreaded this moment ever since I decided to do this blog.  I knew I would need/want to say something about my experiences as an Army Brat.  So much has been written on the topic and far too many, more eloquent people have described the lifestyle I lived for the first 18 years of my life but this is just something I have to do.  I hope I can do it justice.  

Military Brat (Wiki definition) - "Military brats" (especially current and former children of career military families) are largely viewed by themselves and by those who study them as a distinct, 200 year-old American subculture, with millions of members.[1][2] The age of the phenomenon has meant military brats have also been described by a number of researchers as one of the America's oldest and yet least well-known and largely invisible subcultures.[2][5] They have also been described as a modern nomadic subculture.[5]

I’ve read "Band of Brothers" and recently read the book "Blackhorse Riders" and it occurred to me we Brats were soldiers too.  I would never presume to say our experiences were on par with those combat Joes that fought and died in Vietnam or any other conflict, but our "battles" were just as searing in our minds and hearts as those who spilled blood.  We didn't share a foxhole, we shared a classroom.  Our fathers spent RnR (Rest and Relaxation) in Hawaii.  We spent ours at the Teen Club.  Our fathers fought an enemy in the rice patties of Vietnam.  Our enemy trolled the grounds of Mannheim or Augsburg High School.  A soldier lost a buddy during a firefight.  We lost friends when fathers were reassigned back to "the world".  

I guess Wiki is right, we are a subculture.  We had diverse personalities and upbringings but shared a similar life style.  Regardless of our temperament or ambitions we mainly wanted to assimilate and fit in as quick as possible.  There was no time to sit and wait for life to happen.  We dove head first into relationships and activities.  It was a hard thing to do when every two to three years we had to reinvent ourselves in a new community and a new school.  We grew up fast and on the move.   I often think of my friends and experiences and can't help the tears that well up in my eyes.  In some ways I owe my very existence to those that fought the good fight with me. They helped me survive the awkwardness of youth and the insecurity that came not just with the transition from childhood to young adult but trying to find my identity through an ever changing set of mailing addresses and schools. At times we shared a harsh existence with very little outlet with the exception of each other.  I don't think high school bonds are unique to Brats but the "battlefields" where they were forged definitely were. 

At the time I never understood why my high school reunion in October of 2000 in New Orleans affected me so much.  But since then I’ve had time to think on it and it’s clear that we were and still are a “Band of Brothers and Sisters”.   How do you explain knowing someone for only eight months of your life but they maintain a place deep in your heart as if they were family?  I guess in many respects we are family.   A Brat can text to a friend “KC” and they’ll know exactly what that means.  I get really nostalgic when I hear Earth, Wind and Fire or Marvin Gaye on the radio.  Like a time machine they take me back to a very special time in my life that most folks don’t quite understand except those that were there with me.  

In many ways it was a hard life but I have no regrets nor would I change any difficult, hurtful or awkward experience I had.  They were all sources of strength that have sustained me these 50+ years.  I wear them as badges of honor.  I’m proud of where I’ve been and I’m proud to call myself a “Brat”.  I suppose this all sounds self-indulgent but please believe me when I say it’s not that we Brats want to be praised; we just want to be understood.

Thursday, November 1, 2012

Day 306: Already?

Now I've made no bones about the fact I can't wait for winter and all snow up in the mountains but that doesn't mean I've been walking around wearing my helmet and carrying my snowboard every where I go.  And I've been waiting for a couple weeks now for the appearance of the red Starbucks holiday cups but I couldn't imagine drinking from them in the middle of summer.  There's a time and place for all things, holidays included and if we don't keep some level of separation we start to lose the significance of these special times because everything gets blended together.  

I guess it's just a reflection of how we've become a "multi-task" culture.  Maybe we were just dumber back then but as a kid you really had to focus your energies on one holiday at a time.  Halloween wasn't just about costumes.  You had to create a battle plan on how you and your friends were going to invade all the neighborhoods, determine who gave out the best candy and try to avoid getting beat up and having your candy stolen by the older kids.  Thanksgiving was all about food and football.  A bit more laborious for the kids because the days leading up to Thanksgiving you were usually captured and placed into indentured servitude by your mother who was now running a labor camp out of the house.  Your days were spent cleaning the house for visitors and overnight guests, having to relocate yourself in the workers barracks (basement) and essentially having to walk that fine line between making yourself available to your mom but also keeping the hell out of her way.  I never quite got the hang of that.  Christmas was the Super Bowl for kids.  Everything led up to this one special moment in time.  Waiting for the Sears Christmas catalog to come in the mail, ripping it from the hands of your sisters so you could be the first to make sure you circled every toy and dog-eared every page to ensure your mom knew exactly what you wanted when she had her conference call with Santa. There was the excitement of getting the freshly cut Christmas tree, putting up decorations around the house and listening to Bing Crosby on the record player (reel to reel, for some of us).  And if you were anything like me, you were working your very best negotiating skills and charm, trying to convince your mom to let you open one present early.  There were some years when I was able to finagle a gift or two.  Hey, I was adorable back then. 

But now folks are hanging up their Christmas lights in October and stores are putting out their Christmas inventory in September.  Last year I actually saw Easter candy on display in our local grocery store BEFORE New Years Day.  WTH?!  I was still trying to choke down all the treats I got for Christmas when the candy cartel started pushing Cadury bunnies on me.  These guys are more aggressive with their candy than drug dealers are pushing their wares. Here's the deal, the first indication of Christmas coming is suppose to be the presence of Santa during the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade.  Just one guy, no big fanfare, just letting you know he's less than a month away.  You all think that Friday after Thanksgiving is only for shopping?  Well it's really intended to be the day when all the dads shlep out the Christmas decorations to turn their house into something Clark Griswold would shed a tear over ("the little lights aren't twinkling").  Can I just enjoy Halloween with no other interruptions of impending holidays?  Can I just enjoy my turkey dinner, some kick ass wine and football without having to listen to Christmas music on the radio or see Christmas lights flickering in my neighborhood?

I swear it's like we're in such a hurry for tomorrow that we don't enjoy today. When it comes to holidays, let's heed one piece of advice from our mothers.... "Slow down, chew your food.  Your toys will just have to wait."