LifeCapades

Beguiling ME

2010-06-27T10:21:00.005-04:00

Recently, Thom and I vacationed in Maine. To just relate the places we visited and beauty we encountered would do this corner of our country a supreme injustice. Maine is to be experienced…savored. Sometimes you just have to put the camera down and take it all in.

We only had a week, but were able to pack in so much; from Thunder Hole and Schoodic Point, from Bass Harbor and Jordan Pond. You find yourself seeking photographic excellence while immersed in lupine fields that arise with untold regularity or surrounded by beach roses that chose this year to blossom in abundance. Beauty is everywhere…in lighthouses, black dikes, tidal pools, pink granite formations, and windswept pines. At every turn you can see the fingerprints of God.

Rising before dawn, we trekked to the top of Cadillac Mountain, where we witnessed the beginning of the day in America. Our vantage point provided the first glimpse of the sun, as it graces the continent. Wind and cold were ignored while pink, mauve, and gold striations rose from the sea.

Fifteen hours a day, the sun graced our presence. Sunglasses at 5am proved a challenge to my nocturnal predilection.

Granted this trip including the familiar, lots of shopping and eating and touristy bits, but more often included encounters with nature, even bouts with the ethereal. In the distance a loon call is heard then you spot it on the water. Elusive as Nessie. Sidle to close and it dives to a farther shore. Get lucky with the telephoto lens and you capture the blood red eyes, revealing a bird from another more primal world.

You may not know this, but Maine eats the most ice cream per capita in the United States. Having sampled a coupled of the home-crafted flavors I can attest to why. Savoring ice cream made with Bailey's was a treat. One flavor I did pass on was Lobster. Sorry folks, but I like my lobster steaming hot from a pot and ready to be cracked open and dipped in buttah.

Most fortunate of all was having Thom as a tour guide. Not only did he own a B & B in Bar Harbor, but also vacationed there for many years. Nearly a quarter century of experience gave me insight to favored places. Of course, knowing the area also came in handy for our selection of when to go for the best in weather and relative lack of tourists.

Will I return?

Most definitely. If times we different, I would move there or to its sister area of the country, the Pacific Northwest. Give me the slower pace of life. Forgo the city. I would gladly trade concrete and glass for trees and topography.

Conflicted

2010-03-31T21:04:00.004-04:00

I've heard today that the high school I attended back in Chicago is on the verge of having to close. The school has been in operation for just over 100 years. As distressing as this is to some, I find myself conflicted. More than thirty years have passed since I last walked the hallowed halls, passed the statue of Martin Luther en route to a class, or cheered on the Wildcats at a football or basketball game. For all intents and purposes, this has been a lifetime ago. I'm not an active alumni, having left Chicago for good in 1995. I married my high school sweetheart, got divorced and had no children to carry on the tradition of attending this school nestled into a quiet neighborhood on the north side of Chicago.

Financial difficulties are not uncommon in this day and age. And, I understand that LHSN faces a $1.8 million dollar shortfall with creditors coming due in June.

What does shock me is that once a vibrant parochial school with an average of 1300 students when I attended, now finds itself barely able to foster an enrollment of 300. I can't help but wonder how enrollment could have declined so much; whether it be the rising tuition costs that may have outpriced the common family; a lessening in the quality of education; or losing the support and encouragement of the Lutheran community at large.

It seems that the issues are more than just the amount owed. Without firsthand knowledge I cannot know if the education in this Christian setting is doing its best to prepare students to move forward with their education and be accepted into the best colleges and universities. There is a drive on now from many of those I went to school with to save Luther North. Even though my father went to its predecessor, Luther Institute, and my brothers and I attended four years each, I don't feel an overriding personal connection that would impel me to help save the school; too many unknowns, too many years past.

My memories are alive…making crepe paper flowers to decorate homecoming floats, dissecting frogs in biology, acting on stage for the first time in Moliere's Imaginary Invalid, singing in choirs and traveling around with the elite Luther Singers. I cherish the memories and if Luther High School North should discontinue its existence after the many years, the memories will always be there for me.

Was it all just a F.A.D.?

2010-03-28T10:36:00.002-04:00

For a time, I was prolific; a condition that all too often crossed the threshold into sporadic. Now, as evidenced by my absence for months at a time, I have fallen into the ennui-bound realm of nearly non-existent.

Such has been the life cycle of this blog.

At the urging of a friend, I began my observances of life on the now defunct Yahoo!360 as a way to meet people via a medium that afforded itself greater latitude for personal expression. Many of those connections have stayed with me to this more traditional blogging incarnation and the social web of entrapment that is Facebook. They have read my rants with understanding; laughed at my stepping into the horsepiles of absurdity; relished my intelligent discourse on issues of the day (Ok, that was a bit self-indulgent…so sue me).

At the onset, blogging proved itself to be a catalyst for freshening my mind's eye, keeping perspective fresh and new ideas flowing. It spurred action on my long-ago-shelved novel. Dormant characters once again found their voices. My fingers tapped them into renewed and re-energized existence, only to find them tossed aside when faced with distraction.

On Facebook, I found the quest for pithy and obtuse status updates became more important than the emotions and conversations churning inside of me. Now, on a daily basis, I find myself lost in a sea of "friends"—those newly found and those I've re-connected with from the distant past—who more often than not know as little about the "real" me as I do about them. I find myself longing for more and yet powerless to change this reality. It is as if social networking has alchemized into my own personal Kryptonite, sapping the life right out of me.

The inability to scrape beneath the surface has left me bereft. Words barely seep through the sieve of apathy. It feels like I have abandoned my voice. Sent it packing on a cruise through the Parse-ifal Sea, where Word Sharks and Grammarcudas circle in for the kill, attracted to the scent of indifference.

It makes me wonder if the voices that have been screaming for so long to rise up like a revolutionary mob have been nothing more than a F.A.D. (Fraudulent Authorial Dream)? Only time will tell.

Marriage on the Rocks

2009-11-04T14:30:00.002-05:00

Sad. It really is the only descriptive word necessary for this moment in time.

Maine voters went to the polls yesterday and repealed an enacted law that allowed gays and lesbians to marry. What makes this turn of events particularly difficult to swallow is the fact that my partner and I had talked about getting married there this coming summer (he used to live in Bar Harbor for seven years).

All we want is to be able to quantify our relationship. We already wear rings on our fingers. We believe we are married in God’s eyes (please, if you have differing opinion, don’t roll yours). But our love for each other doesn’t provide us with the benefits our heterosexual friends receive due to their having one single sheet of paper…a marriage certificate. Think about this: Without that sheet of paper I have nothing; no legal standing to keep me in my home or pass along property; no visitation rights or medical decision-making in the event of a catastrophe.

I am saddened that there are still so many people out there who truly believe that marriage is to be reserved for a man and a woman. Their convictions—often based on scripture—drive them to believe that giving homosexuals the opportunity (I don’t want to call it a right) to marry will somehow degrade the sanctity of marriage. It seems to me that a better use of time for marriage activists is to prop up heterosexual marriages, too many of which end in divorce.

I can only shake my head in wonder as to how some people can interpret the union of a loving couple as degrading the sanctity of marriage. In my opinion, it can only enhance.

No matter how you slice it, those defending the sanctity of marriage and protecting the status quo are guilty of discrimination. Definitely, NOT something the Jesus would do.

Return to Sender

2009-10-25T14:53:00.003-04:00

Somewhere along the way I seem to have lost something important.

Its preciousness has nothing to do with monetary value and everything to do with spiritual well-being. Like the five senses, it is an innate ability.

Outside of the safety of the familial cocoon, it has been swallowed up in darkness. Like Peter Pan’s shadow it has become disconnected from my essence.

I know that it is close at hand, tauntingly within reach. But I am blind to its presence.

If you should find it in your personal travels, please mark it RETURN TO SENDER. I’m certain the postal service will return it to me, along with this year’s letters to Santa.

What have I lost?

I’m shocked you even have to ask that question. When have you last seen a grin on my face?

When is the last time you heard me laugh on the phone?

Somewhere, hiding from me…is the ability to have fun.

Seeing Red in a Pink World

2009-10-04T17:50:00.003-04:00

We’ve barely moved into October and I am already feeling the urge to puke pink. No, I’m not about to purge Pepto-Bismol. My revulsion is created by something that has become equally as distasteful…Breast Cancer Awareness Month. My beef isn’t with breast cancer. It is a disease that is truly horrendous and needs to be eradicated.

No, my beef is with the omnipresent marketing of the disease.

Thanks to the Susan G. Komen Foundation, the color pink is plastered everywhere and on everything. What started with a simple pink ribbon has blossomed into endemic proportions. We now have pink laptops (Sony), pink toasters (Dualit), pink yogurt lids (Yoplait), and pink Visa cards; we have pink sneakers (New Balance), pink water pitchers (Vitapur), pink mixers (Kitchen Aid), and pink garden tools (Apollo). The list of pink products continues on ad nauseum.

The last straw for me came today with NFL players wearing pink gloves and cleats. It just went too far.

Cancer touches everyone at some point in their lives.

Mine has been touched over and over again:

-My father died from Bladder cancer
-My paternal grandfather had prostate cancer
-My mother had melanoma
-My maternal grandmother had lymphoma
-My maternal aunt had bone cancer
-My brother has had both prostate cancer and skin cancer
-My MALE cousin has had breast cancer

With this history, it is only a matter of time before cancer touches me.

What angers me is that this excellent marketing campaign has relegated other cancers to the sidelines. It has marginalized other cancer patients who might be coming in for physical treatment or emotional health and are bombarded with the hardly subliminal message during October at hospitals, doctor’s offices, and social service agencies around the country that breast cancer matters MORE. It has made competition for the remaining dollars (for research, for care) fierce.

ALL cancers are serious conditions, but even they are not the deadliest.

At last tabulation, heart disease remains the largest killer in America (even among women). With that in mind…does anyone know when National Heart Month is in America?

I didn’t think so.

-IC

2009-03-29T11:10:00.004-04:00

aromatic beans do
reap hefty euphoric
swell
ironic inkwells woo
artisan colonic
hell

monosyllabic, yes
if it weren’t such tragic
knell
chronic pangs illumine
wordsmith’s epidemic
quell

epic adverbs conspire
critics parse forensic
gel
formic dissolutions
pummel monolithic
Kell

To Valhalla and Back

2009-03-28T15:53:00.003-04:00

Thom and I had planned to have this past week together; free from the constrains of work, not knowing what we would do with our unscheduled time. As the time grew closer, I asked him a most important question:

Do you want a vacation where we "do" something or have a relaxing, re-energizing retreat somewhere?

The stresses of work being what they are for both of us, the answer was unequivocal.

RETREAT.

Out was Disney (we're going in May anyway); out was the Kennedy Space Center; out was flying off somewhere to another busy city, doing the tourist thing.

Serendipity stepped in with Kizmet by her side. A client at work who grew up in the Keys told me of a quaint little resort down in Marathon. Thom called and by coincidence there was just a cancellation for exactly the week we wanted. Whether it be Odin, Freya, or Thor the gods of the Nordic pantheon were shining on us.

There is not much to tell about the resort itself, except that it is off the beaten path, has only five units, and is situated in a beautifully secluded area. Books (and iPhone with Kindle app) in hand, we spent hours relaxing and enjoying Keys life.

When we did venture out, it was mostly to eat. We eschewed dinners in favor of breakfast and a late lunch, deciding that we liked having the afternoon and night to chill and watch sunset. In atypical fashion we ate at only two places: Leigh Ann's Coffee House for breakfast and the Island Fish Co for lunches.

We hated to come home, but I'm sure will visit Valhalla again before the Valkyries come to bring us home.

Alphabet Soup

2009-02-09T07:35:00.002-05:00

Here is a little glimpse into my world through the ABCs of life.
A is for arthritis, which is in my back and neck. Pain is something that I live with each and every day. All I can do is continue to push through it…Hence, softball.

B is for bowling. I used to be a very good bowler. I even have a perfect game to my credit.

C is for choirboy. All through elementary school and high school I sang in choirs. I love choral music. Last year, my oldest brother surprised me at Christmas with a CD that he had digitally transferred from an old album of my high school choir’s Christmas music. Boy, did that bring back memories.

D is for David, my name. It’s one of those names that allows for various permutations. I have gone by Dave, David, D. Michael, D.M. until finally settling in on an appreciation of David. Though really, I will answer to anything other than Davy. Only one person ever got away with calling me that…but that’s another story.

E is for Eugene, OR. I lived there for one year. It is one of the most beautiful places on earth. If ever given the chance, I would retire there. The sense of déjà vu that I experience in that part of the country is amazing.

F is for family. It means so much to me. That’s the main reason for me to be living in Florida…nearness to my brother and mother.

G is for Greyhound. Go Greyhound! And leave the driving to us. NEVER AGAIN! After more than 3 days on buses from Eugene, OR to Tampa, FL, I will never again set foot on a bus. You truly meet the dregs of society.

H is for home. I am a nester. It doesn’t take long after moving for me to decorate, put things in their place, and turn a house into a home.

I is for inseam. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a 29” inseam in pants?

J is for jury duty. I’ve being stuck on the jury for a murder trial. OMG!

K is for keepsakes. I really don’t have too many things anymore that have been passed down from generation to generation. Mostly, I have a couple of individual pieces of kitchenware that I got when my grandmother died. My keepsakes lean more toward the old family pictures that grace our walls.

L is for Leo, my zodiac sign. Enough said.

M is for martinis and margaritas. Enough said.

N is for nuance. Life is filled with intricacies. Doors open. Doors close. Subtle changes in atmosphere surround. A wink, a nod, and a grin…each witness to the language of the body and the soul.

O is for opera. I have a great love for opera. I also have/had a voice that lent itself well to the medium. It was good enough to be considered for the Chicago Conservatory of Music. Sadly, my parents didn’t have the funds to make that a reality.

P is for platinum…as in a nice little band with sapphires for the ring finger on my left hand. (key wedding music, please)

Q is for queer. That’s how I identify as a gay man. And no, I did not misspell it.

R is for rheumatic fever. I contracted this disease as a child. It held me back from physical activity for many years. It turned me into a loner when I couldn’t join the other kids for recess.

S is for sewing. My ex-wife taught me and I went on to sew dresses for her and lounge pants for myself. Some day I will pull out the machine Thom brought and maybe put together some window treatments or pillows.

T is for tiffany, as in lamps. When Thom was showing me pics of his stuff so we could decide what he should move down here, I jumped at the chance to bring his tiffany lamps into our décor. I have always been a fan of stained glass…honey, where is that studio you’re going to use?

U is for Ultimate Frisbee….aside from softball it is easily my favorite sport. If only I were 10 years younger and 40 lbs lighter.

V is for voice. When I turned 40, I began to feel a voice rising from the depths of my being. That voice has found resonance in my writing. Maybe some day my voice will be heard by millions, rather than the select few.

W is for Wisconsin. Our family vacations were always to the north woods for a week of fishing. And I do mean fishing…morning, afternoon, and night.

X is for the X-factor…the unknown. In Buddhist philosophy it is prudent to live in “don’t know.” In this way, you meet the future with open arms.

Y is for youth group leader at church. Ever been in charge of middle school age kids? Ever done a lock-in Halloween party in the school? Ever feel like you have been through the wringers? Ever seen the face of kids light up when you offer to play wiffle ball with them? It’s all in the joy of mentoring.

Z is for zoologist. It was my dream as a kid to work at a zoo. Somewhere along the line that dream fell by the wayside.

Reality Bites - a repost from 360

2009-02-07T07:31:00.003-05:00

Obsession? Escapism? Or, is it just our desire to see people humiliated, demeaned, and driven to extremes?

What am I talking about?

Reality TV, of course.

It’s near impossible to browse the airwaves on a given night without coming across people vying for some prize or another. There is even a satellite channel devoted to this burgeoning genre.
Reality shows have come and gone, but some of the forebears remain…Survivor, Big Brother, and the Amazing Race. These are the scions of the “let’s win us some money” branch of reality shows.

Another branch is the “I have talent. Really, I do. And if I don’t, I still hope to get my 30 seconds of fame” contests. These include America’s Got Talent, So You Think You Can Dance, and the most successful of all reality shows…American Idol.

Of course, there are also the completely ludicrous but highly entertaining “reality” shows…Who Wants To Be A Superhero? (One of my favorite shows, for it exhibits the absolute best in stupidity and escapism).

But there is another branch that catches my attention more than any other…
I call it the “I know what kind of career I want and winning could give it a HUGE boost.” America’s Next Top Model, Project Runway, Top Chef, Hell’s Kitchen, Next Food Network Star, Top Design, Shear Genius all fall into this category. There are some of these that I have to admit a great love. I find shows that take things like clothing design and cooking allow me to see the creative process from conceptualization to execution. Often I am blown away by what some of these people can do.

Still…I think there is plenty of room for new entries into the genre.
Wouldn’t you just love to see some of THESE shows?

Top Trash – Americans compete in the ultimate garbage challenge. Trash talking ensues as
wannabe civil servants vie for the position of Chief Trash Collector of NYC.

Who Wants To Be A Recycler? – Contestants are given various challenges in keeping with the theme Reduce, Reuse, Recycle. The winner is given a job as caretaker of Al Gore’s multi-million dollar home in Tennessee.

America’s Next Best Selling Author – Aspiring writers face quick fire and elimination challenges proposed by some of America’s most famous authors. Judges include Gore Vidal, Nan Talese, and Stephen King. The winner receives a contract for three novels to be published by Random House and a guaranteed slot on Oprah’s Book of the Month.

I Can Write Songs, Too – Ditties come to life. Torch songs flourish. In this offshoot, contestant battle time and each other to become the next great songwriter. Barry Manilow hosts this show, while Carole Bayer Sager, Burt Bacharach, and Sir Elton John judge the winner, who will be paired with the next winner of American Idol to write songs for their debut album.
None of these compares with my favorite…

TOP SURGEON!

Hosted by Dr. Robert Jarvik, recent graduates from some of the top medical schools in the country vie for the position of Chief Surgeon at Cedars Sinai Medical Center. Can’t you just see it…
Dr. Jarvik: Good morning, contestants. For today’s quick fire challenge, you will be performing an emergency tracheotomy.
{The contestants look at each other with knowing confidence.}
Dr. Jarvik: BUT…there is a catch. You must perform the surgery with an every day household item.
{An aide dressed in scrubs wheels in a stainless steel cart.}
Dr. Jarvik walks over to the cart and pulls away a cloth, revealing these implements utensils: Bic pen, Refrigerator Tubing, and other “right tools for the right job,” as my grandfather used to say.
{The contestants gasp in unison.}
Dr. Jarvik: You will have 5 minutes to complete this challenge, starting…NOW!
{Curtains part and patients are seen lying in hospital beds, waiting}

25 Thoughts

2009-02-01T13:16:00.001-05:00

1. Growing up, my older brothers resented the attention I gained so much that they took to derisively calling me King David. I was oblivious.
2. I’m also oblivious if someone is interested in me. Flirting is completely lost. Unless you hit me over the head caveman style, I will just see everything as innocent conversation.
3. I am woefully—contrary to popular belief—and am uncomfortable in any social situation where I don’t know anyone. The only way I bypass the fear of starting up a conversation is to pretend that I am working.
4. One thing I learned over the years is that—unless I am truly passionate about my job—I live by the credo of “working to live, not living to work.”
5. Passion is something that I have always felt myself to be lacking. I see people who dive into life with gusto, while I feel as if I have been lurking in the shadows for much of my life. I am in awe of those whose passion focuses their actions.
6. It frustrates me that back pain has caused me to give up two things that I am passionate about—bowling, gardening, and softball.
7. Writing has become something I enjoy, but so far find difficulty (lack of passion?) in making the time necessary to be successful. Considering I found my writing voice after turning 40, I give myself at least a few years to publish my own version of the Great American Novel.
8. Rarely do I get invited to parties. Not sure if that means I’m boring and unpopular or whether (more likely) I’m forgettable and an afterthought. Sometimes I feel left out and unloved because of this.
9. I find it hard to maintain friendships after I move away. That’s what has made FaceBook so fun. I’ve re-connected with quite a few people, including some I haven’t seen or talked with in more than 30 years.
10. I cook like my mother—casseroles, meat & potatoes—and rarely take culinary risks.
11. Also, like my mother, I love DisneyWorld and, much to Thom’s chagrin, could spend every vacation there. I find it comforting and the experience never fails to put a smile on my face.
12. Rollercoasters frighten me and I have given over to my fear for Thom’s sake (he loves them and will do anything that involves speed). But I still have my limits.
13. I have never been out of the country and don’t even have a passport. It’s not that I wouldn’t like to visit some places, but finances being what they are I never imagine being able to afford traveling the world.
14. I love playing board games and party games, just as long as I don’t have to draw anything—Picasso I ain’t.
15. There have been times when I showed an interest in picking up a musical instrument and learning how to play. Frustration sets in almost immediately when perfection doesn’t spontaneously appear. I guess this comes from the fact that I pick up most things easily whether it be computer programs, sports, or trivia.
16. Coming up with 25 things is excruciating. Talking about “me” is a chore. I’d really rather be learning about you.
17. Some people are afraid of failure. I, on the other hand, think that I suffer from a fear of success.
18. Of all the places I’ve lived (Chicago, Oregon, NY’s Hudson Valley, South Florida), I would like to retire in Oregon (that’s Ore-E-Gun, son). I’ve never lived in someplace with as many shades of green.
19. Too often I have amazing ideas, but little follow-up. I really should be employed by a major corporation as a visionary.
20. Because I don’t express it, you may not know how much of a friend I consider you to be. I care deeply about so many people and never forget those I consider in my heart to be worthy of friendship. Acquaintances come and go, but friendships, though time and distance get in the way, last forever.
21. I’m not sure if I’ve ever said anything profound, but I have uttered encyclopedias of profane.
22. I love my family deeply. No matter how long it has been since we’ve seen each other, each is precious in my eyes.
23. I am loved and in love. It is the most wonderful essence.
24. Of all the regrets I have throughout the course of my life, it’s that I’ve never had the opportunity to become a father. I know that I would’ve made a great dad. Now I live in a state where I couldn’t adopt, even if I wanted, just for being gay. How many children lose out on loving homes because of the ignorance of others.
25. I still believe in Santa. For me he embodies the goodness of the world.

Return of the Native or Imaginative

2009-01-19T11:12:00.000-05:00

Where has the time gone? It doesn’t seem that three months have passed since I last put thoughts to keyboard and posted something of merit on this page. Major holidays have swept passed with the speed of passersby on a city street. I’ve failed to chronicle Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and the beginning of a New Year.

Is there significance in my writing on this particular holiday (Martin Luther King, Jr. Day)? No, it just happens that the bank is closed and Thom is stuck working. So I am here alone with projects to be done around the house and a serious lack of ambition to accomplish any of them. So instead, I will offer up for you a list of thoughts, occurrences, and ambitions from the last three months.

HOLIDAYS – Halloween was a bust. Neither Thom nor I had the energy to be fabulous. Nor did we have the desire to attend the neighborhood street fair that was attended by more than 20,000 revelers (we could hear them until at least 2am through our open windows). Thanksgiving was spent with friends, of course only after watching the Macy’s Parade. For Christmas, we eschewed Disney and hosted friends and family for a scrumptious get together.

BK FLAMER – Before the holidays Burger King introduces a product they hoped would compete with Axe body spray—BK FLAME. Advertisements showed the Burger King king naked by the fire, covered only by a bearskin rug. The ad was disturbing to say the least. The king is one of the scariest promotional characters ever created and conjures but one image for me…pedophilia. What were they thinking?!

TAPS – My laptop died on New Year’s Day. The trauma was complete when Geek Squad could do nothing to recover my data. Stupidly, my last full backup was back in October (see, this page isn’t the only thing I’ve neglected) so much was lost. But hearken…there is a brand-spanking new HP on the way.

DIVERSIONS – I’ve found a couple of new ways to occupy my time and avoid what really needs to be done…Geni.com and Facebook. Now, since many of you are already on Facebook, I won’t go into too much detail other than the joy and surprise of re-connecting with people I haven’t had contact with in up to 30 years. As for Geni, it is a fantastic site where you can compile your family tree and have it accessible for editing to anyone in the family. Great for gathering info and storing family pics.

HANG-UPS – With much sadness, I have retired from playing and coaching softball. The pain in my back is such that I just can’t continue. I can’t describe how difficult walking away from something I love is for me. It easily would have been a full blog of its own, but I just couldn’t bring myself to write it.

MOVING FORWARD – We just set up a new writing space for me in the condo. So hopefully that ever-in-progress novel will get some attention during 2009. I really need to do something to better utilize my time, and escape from the horrors of my job… *NOTE TO SELF* GET A NEW JOB…

Until next time, my lovelies…

Scene of the Crime

2008-10-18T22:47:00.002-04:00

Years have passed since I last crossed over
The threshold still stained red
With a subtle stench of
Carnage cleansed long ago
With no trepidation
I return to the scene of the Crime

Caution blares; my ears ring with the tolling
Of stifled wronged goodbyes
‘Do not cross’ long dissolved
By the intervening
Years since the Queen’s demise
I return to the scene of the Crime

Blinds crack open on a second floor
Window apparitions
Upon my arrival
Scuttle for hidden tombs
Transported back in time
I return to the scene of the Crime

My money placed on fortune’s turning;
A spin of the wheel
Where red is the winner
And black is but color
Comprised of all others
I return to the scene of the Crime

Great are the anxieties of distaste
Ironies straddle Self
Like two raging titans
Dueling psyches clash
Against better judgment
I returned to the scene of the Crime

Unscathed; buoyed by Love beside me
Pages turn fluttering
In the breeze created
From a thousand butterflies
Rising from the cocoon
Soaring above the scene of the Crime

Ticker Shock

2008-10-13T10:33:00.004-04:00

Working for a bank has its drawbacks...especially now. For the past few months, we have witnessed a financial freefall. Not since the Great Depression have we been in the midst of such a complete downward spiral.

Almost daily, news of another failure, merger, bailout, or write-off has sent the markets scurrying for cover. The financial virus has spread worldwide, threatening to consume jobs and topple governments. Countries are making desperate attempts to staunch the bleeding.

Daily, I see people more and more worried about their money, their jobs, their retirement. It has left me wondering about my own survival and future. Even though I don't have a portfolio that has depreciated or lost incredible amounts of equity in my home, I am not immune to the day-to-day struggles.

I never used to be a worrier. Times have changed. A trip to the grocery store points out the futility of frugality. Essentials continue to climb in cost: milk, meats, vegetables. Eating healthy is no longer a viable option.

At work, fraud is on the rise. I am responsible for spotting fraud and protecting the bank's interests. However, I have been on a rollercoaster of emotion, driven by the pressures. I have caught an enormous amount of fraud, but when one slipped through and cost the bank I suffered weeks of waking up and wondering if I still would have a job at the end of the day. It feels like I am living in a never-ending episode of Project Runway ("In fashion, one day you are in and the next day you're out.")

Looking for something different is an effort in futility. The job market here is as barren as the steppes of Mongolia. For now, I can only be thankful that I have a job. Muddle through it on a daily basis and count the days to the next paycheck and the credit card payments it makes.

PALINGENESIS

2008-09-03T17:30:00.002-04:00

I try not to be overly political on this page, even though I have great interest in the political process and maintain very strong opinions. That being said, I can’t step away from the keyboard without touching on the headlines: Sarah Palin Named GOP Vice Presidential Nominee. At first glance this might seem like a rebirth or reawakening of the Republican Party, just the simple fact that Republican’s have included a woman on the ticket is quite a leap for the good ol’ boy network—just ask Libby Dole.

On closer inspection, we find it is more of the same. Maverick McCain (not to be confused with Tom Cruise in Top Gun) has really done nothing more than pander to the extremist wings of his party. In a few short days, Ms. Palin’s history has shown her to be a creationist who can been seen in videos declaring that the Iraq war is God’s work, while her requests for pork barrel Federal money outdistances every other state in the union (Ted Stevens must be proud).

Sparing readers of the tawdry details of her under-aged daughters pregnancy, this self-identified “hockey mom”—maybe not the best choice of identities, since the father of her soon-to-be grandchild is a high school hockey player—is ardently pro-life, even to the extent of refusing to fund sex education classes that actually teach teenagers about sex rather than abstinence only. Apparently, her daughter missed school the day of the abstinence program.

Governor Palin isn’t the first VP nominee to face mountains of criticism. More than anything, she appears to be the victim of a poor vetting process. Can someone you met twice really be your first choice? She seems to be the last minute sacrificial lamb ala Geraldine Ferraro and Thomas Eagleton (both Democrats for those who keep count of failed VP nominees).

Time will tell if she can handle the pressure of being heartbeats from the presidency, whether she will melt under the scrutiny of the press, or fall victim to Joe Biden in some memorable debate.

Only then will we know if she’s been Quayled.

TIME RAVAGES ON

2008-09-01T13:10:00.001-04:00

Time has changed from whence
fearlessness once reigned.
Precarious footholds attained treetops;
superheroic leaps landed softly;
and nothing impeded the aura of
invincible self.
No more.

Time oft takes its toll;
courage abandoned.
Imagined injuries taunt the psyche;
visions of invulnerability
replaced by spectres of casts and crutches.
Leaps of faith, cliché
no more

Time imperiled pride.
Unleashed glimpses spy
youthful exuberance locked up tightly.
Periodic brilliance soon betrays;
confidence briefly to the rafters raised,
where the lion roars
no more.

VEEPSTAKES

2008-08-24T19:38:00.001-04:00

Ever since Barack Obama clinched the Democratic nomination for president, there has been a constant stream of rumors and ruminations surrounding his choice of a vice presidential running mate. Pundits and prognosticators filled the airwaves, espousing the merits of experience over gender, geography over values, age versus youth. At each campaign stop that Senator Obama appeared on stage with another politician elicited whispers of “could it be” him/her? Names were bandied about and passed around like mini quiches at a cocktail party. The list was long…and sometimes impressive.

Now that Joe Biden has been named to play attack dog and loyal soldier to Sen. Obama’s above-the-fray oratorio, I can’t help but think there is a better way to choose a running mate….

VEEPSTAKES 2012

Consider this: America continues to be obsessed with Reality TV. Why not provide our voyeuristic and gladiatorial public with another spectacle? I say we round up 12 likely candidates, force them to live together, compete in character challenges (I know, it’s a political oxymoron), and vie for the title of Vice Presidential Candidate. You’d see backroom politics in the flesh as coalitions and alliances form, while two-faced insincerity and back-stabbing raise their ugly heads.

This political extravaganza is sure to provide viewers with insight. And I’m certain that at the reunion show the “fan favorite” will not be in the studio waiting to compete for the finals, because in politics nice guys really do finish last.

Oh Titus, My Itis!

2008-07-26T17:22:00.004-04:00

I haven't been myself for some time now. You see, when we were on the gulf coast, celebrating my mother's 80th birthday, I developed something I had never experienced...an earache. It was debilitating.

My left ear throbbed. Sensory audibility languished. It seemed I had become a conch, hearing the ocean in my head. With one ear hopelessly out of commission, the remaining amplifier did just that...every sound seemed to be coming out of a newly upgraded theatrical sound system. Not the best combination when surrounded by loud children. Just what is it that provides little girls with the ultimate in shrieky voices?

It was murder. Or better, it was miraculous that I murdered no one.

Returning home completely miserable, I caved and went to the doctor. The homeopathic crap for earaches and swimmer's ear drop had done nothing to alleviate the constant pain with periodic excruciation. Now I understand why children scream constantly when facing this affliction. Following the visit, I found myself armed with cortisone drops and antibiotics. Praise Jesus for medication!

Two more weeks have passed. The pain is gone, but the hearing is still not where it should be. I probably should go to the doctor again, but with the current financial atmosphere I don't want to take more time off. So I continue to try some drops for removing ear wax build up (there's probably enough in there to make a pillar candle) and make it through the days at work...barely.

Vacation I: The Games That Bind Us Together

2008-07-07T18:55:00.006-04:00

Some might say that spending a week with one's family is an ordeal. They envision bickering, fighting, and old wounds surfacing in puss-like fashion. Not my family. We like being together. Yes, there are hiccups in the road but in the end everyone can be found sharing a mutual love...of games.

One thing you must know about my family is that we enjoy playing games: card games, board games, party games, outdoor games, pub games, or active sports. We revel in the participation, the comradery, the competition. Young or old, by birth or by marriage the rhythm & realm of participation reaches out even to the most wary.

One of the games brought out of mothballs this time was Strategic Command. This predesessor to Stratego & Battleship has been in the family for somewhere around 40 years. Tragedy almost struck when my brother forgot to take it out of the back of his pickup truck, remembering it the next morning after an evening of torrential rains. Underterred by the opportunity to share this treasure with new generations, valiant EMT-like rescue work (complete with telephone books & paper towels) was performed by my brothers.

Games also provide my family to laugh (at ourselves and each other). During an exceedingly high spirited game of Catchphrase there were many opportunities to roar.

Mom: Oh geez! I don't know what it is, but I know it's Jewish!

The word she was trying to give clues for was "yeti." Funny, I didn't realize the abominable snowman had made his bar mitzvah.

Oh yes...we can laugh! Sometimes to the point of wheezing, snorting, or peeing in our pants.

I love my family and I love the games that we play.

First Up North

2008-07-06T18:32:00.003-04:00

Before I begin describing our recent vacation activities (which will be apportioned for your ease of reading), I have some business to take care of...

Congratulations to my Blue Ice softball team. While I was enjoying my vacation with family, they were playing their hearts out in a tournament up in Toronto. Competing in the C Competitive Division, they racked up 7 consecutive wins en route to our first ever tournament championship.

THREE CHEERS BLUE ICE!!

Full of Dreams to Last the Years...

2008-06-16T19:17:00.005-04:00

...in Seattle.

Yes, Seattle. Home to the 2008 Gay Softball World Series, and the destination for the Blue Ice. You heard it right, the team that I manage has qualified to participate in this year's premiere event.

We finished a disappointing 3rd in the regular season, and came into the playoffs missing 4 key players. Twelve of us faced a grueling day in the sun (high in the 90s), not an easy task for those of us pushing fifty. The situation became even more intense when one player injured himself, forcing me to play every game (after starting only three games during the season to concentrate on coaching).

Now I don't like to blow my own horn too much, but this old man (bad back and all) still knows how to play the game. In addition to pitching three masterful games (and relieving in the fourth), I averaged nearly .700 with a team-leading 10 RBIs.

Jubilation dies quickly. With only two months to the World Series, I am immediately working on roster moves (who can actually go to the week-long tournament), fundraising (we figure to need about $15K to offset expenses), and getting new uniforms/tshirts for the team. UGH!

So much to do, so little time.

Full of hopes an' full of fears, full of laughter, full of tears
Full of dreams to last the years, in Seattle
. . . in Seattle!

Thank you, Perry. Thank you, Blue Ice.

What's Missing in Toronto?...Me!

2008-06-08T19:33:00.002-04:00

Toronto? You must be shaking your head wondering just what the hell this boy from South Florida is talking about. Let me explain.

You see, I'm sending my Blue Ice softball team north of the border for the Independence Day weekend. There is this super fun softball tournament in Toronto that weekend, so the team decided to brave the cold (hey, it will probably be what?...80 degrees? or whatever it is in celsius) and see what all the the fun is about. Two of our guys went last year and had the time of their lives.

Now to the sad part of the story. I can't go! This is probably the only out-of-town tournament that I really want to take part in and I can't go. There wasn't even the slightest chance that I could go. No, it isn't that I don't have the vacation time & it isn't the money. The thing that is keeping me here is family.

My mom will be celebrating her 80th birthday on July 3rd. In honor of that occasion, the entire family will be congregating on Fort Myers beach, where we have rented a beach house for the week. Family will be arriving from Tennessee, Illinois, Arizona, and various parts of Florida to enjoy each others company, frolic in the water, play games of all sorts, and eat & drink ourselves silly.

We did the same thing for her 75th and everyone agreed it was the perfect way to celebrate. Since then, we have lost one member of the family and gained three (including my Thom). Reminiscing will be at a premium. Catching up will take hours. All in the easy going manner that is the hallmark of my family. It will also be the first time they get to meet Thom, except for my mom and one brother (but more on that another time).

So, for very good reason, I will miss out on one helluva time. I will lose out on the opportunity to meet one of my favorite bloggers/softball players who happens to live in Toronto. C'est la vie!

But John/Jainey/Jeepers...I do expect you to give my Blue Ice team the royal treatment while they are in town. I know how much you like to show off the very best of Toronto and play tour guide.

You're Invited

2008-05-29T21:02:00.003-04:00

We’re just about to throw a party. There is so much that one must prepare for when welcoming guests into your home: menus, decorations, and the guest list.

Oh yes, the guest list. You have to invite plenty, because you never know for sure who will show up at your doorstep. Invitees this year run the gamut from dormouse to destroyer.

It goes without saying that we have some friends who will do everything in their power to pump up the volume and transform our humble home into to swirling sensation. Cristobal, Sally, and Edouard have the capacity to turn any boring evening into a total blast.

Then there are those who we love, who will blend into the background. You could almost sense their waning energy the moment they make their way into your neighborhood. Kyle, Vicky, and Laura are all pleasant, but even if they screamed throughout the night, they wouldn’t wake you from a sound sleep.

Of course you can’t forget to invite the dreaded couples. You know the ones….Love one, but the other half is a complete blowhard. Dolly & Ike and Hanna & Gustav fall into this aforementioned category. The ladies are really sweet, but the guys…sheesh! Both of them are nothing but hot air and we’ve got enough of that here in South Florida.

Wilfred, Teddy, Paloma and Rene have been invited, but I think that they might be cruising around Cozumel. While Nana & Omar would love to drop in and join in on the fun, they seem destined for the Bahamas. Josephine & Marco on the other hand are almost certain to make their presence known in a big way.

Our own Debby Downer, Fay, is likely to show. It’s not that we don’t like her, but she does have a habit of raining on everyone’s parade. This year I’d really rather not get drowned by her special recipe of retribution.

There is one other who, though I’d like for him to show, also kind of scares me the most. Arthur is the practical joker of the group. Just think of Paul Lynde in Bewitched. He just loves to come at you from so many directions that your brain is left spinning with thoughts of where he will strike from next.

So the partying begins June 1st. Yes, hurricane season is upon us. Who from the guest list will show up? Who will wreak havoc? All I know for sure is that we have six months of watching the Weather Channel ahead of us, wondering when Big Bertha will pummel us.

Geek Chic

2008-05-25T07:22:00.006-04:00

Yes, it is now fashionable to be a geek. Inspired by actors in television shows such as Chuck and Reaper, technological hipsters have come to the forefront of trendiness. It is now cool to be considered a geek. They can even be transformed from the misanthropic to the swarthy on Beauty and the Geek.

Geeks can easily be spotted in their natural habitats: technology stores and internet cafes. You will not recognize them by telltale markings like spots or stripes. No, geekis americanis is recognized by its somewhat disheveled appearance, as if they awoke from a long night of online surfing and threw on a number of items from the pile next to the best (they love to layer).

Like most popular prey, they tend to run in herds. Careful, though, for they can be spooked by even the slightest flirtatious smile.

Geekdom--contrary to popular belief--is not located in the Realm of Nerd. You will find no plastic pocket protectors among its denizens, which include Bill Gates and Mark Zuckerberg.

Being a geek has become so popular that rednecks and metrosexuals are flocking to the internet to learn more on how to become the geek next door.

Leading the way in this new fashion trend are four unlikely trailblazers...the boys from Big Bang Theory: Leonard, Sheldon, Howard, and Rajesh. From Howard's belt buckles to Sheldon's shirts, they are setting the stage for geek wannabes around the country. I ask you...who doesn't want to wear a Green Lantern or Periodic Table of the Elements tshirt?

I know I do...Though secretly, I'd rather have Sheldon's flying bats tshirt...but its been discontinued! Dammit!!

At What Point…

2008-05-22T21:06:00.002-04:00

do I begin to wear dress shoes and white socks with shorts.
do I choose Lawrence Welk reruns over watching American Idol.
do I start the morning by scanning the obituaries.
do I enjoy it when someone calls me a “hot daddy.”
do I consider six hours sleep to be a full night’s rest.
do I accept that I am no longer Peter Pan and have gotten old.
do I figure out the meaning of life.
do I alter my diet, according to the teeth that remain in my mouth.
do I remember more details of my childhood than what happened yesterday.
do I drive 30mph on the interstate.

Aging is inevitable. It is through grace that we age with dignity. It sets us apart.

I have learned many valuable lessons (many of them the hard way) over the years.

So at what point…

Do all of my dreams come true?

Fascinating...

2008-05-21T20:07:00.005-04:00

There are so many things in this world that hold the capacity to fascinate:

pollen-laden flowers
sea shells rolling onto shore
leaves turning color
clouds in the sky

Babies can shift their entire focus to one thing for hours. Notice the look in their eyes upon the discovery of their own toes. The world around them melts away into the background of consciousness.

I still have a child's eye. It hasn't been lost in this darkened attic of adulthood. It remains fresh; sensitive as an iguana's tongue.

Recently, I've noticed something. You see, working in a bank, I handle plenty of money on a daily basis. Take a close look at our paper (or should I say linen) money. The newer engravings of the presidents/officials cast some eerie effects. If you count enough money, you will begin to notice the eyes--they stare back at you. More often than not, it is a benign gaze. But at times, there is a demonic glare looking up, haunting you, taunting you.

Some have said that "money is the root of all evil." I'm not so sure they aren't far from the truth.

Fascinating.

Mickey & Mom

2008-05-11T17:02:00.004-04:00

Born in 1928 (the same year as Mickey Mouse), no one epitomizes the magic of Disney more than my mom.

She is Mary Poppins, Snow White, and Dumbo's mother all rolled into one.

Happy Mother's Day!!

Hot Trannie Messes

2008-05-10T17:56:00.004-04:00

Some of the Blue Ice softball team took their enormous talents to the bowling lanes for the semi-annual league fund raising event.

It's pretty amazing what my "sisters" will come up with in the name of fun. Now, many of you have seen us regaled in Easter bonnets for a softball tournament, donning neon blue wigs for last season's bowling tourney, or combining their superpowers for Halloween.

Today's team was comprised of the incomparable (left to right) LaQuisha, LaTiqla, ShaNeNe, Fatima, and Ho Ho. The Hot Trannie Messes came in 5th out of 20 teams, not too bad for the Sorority Girls of Bethune-Cookman (you never know what you will find at Marshall's). Gotta love a group of friends who just know how to have fun.

Next up....

Sunday's softball game versus the FlaminGoGos!!!!!

Around the Bloc

2008-05-07T20:06:00.004-04:00

We've wandered deeply into a most historic presidential primary season. Still alive and vying for supremacy three candidates who would in turn, if elected, become the first woman, first African-American, or oldest first term elected president of these United States.

At varying times, the campaigns have appeared genial, opportunistic, biased, out-of-touch, and downright ornery. Pandering is the norm, even as this country faces the worst economic crisis in decades and a continuing war that has now eclipsed the Revolutionary War in duration. "Major addresses" lead to non-substantative proposals. Or, as John McCain put it during a recent town hall meeting on healthcare..."Get out and walk. Watch your diet. That's the best insurance."

Throughout this process, I've made some interesting observations:

Pundits declared that for North Carolinians the economy was "overwhelmingly" the deciding issue. They failed to mention that Sen. Obama won with 91% of the African-American vote.
I continue to hear people say that the protracted Democratic race is bad for the party. Personally, I'd rather have the most exciting convention in my lifetime, than listen to an anointed candidate (John McCain) attempt to remain relevant.
Speaking of John McCain, did you know that 25% percent of Republican voters in Indiana and North Carolina cast their ballots for other candidates? I can't help but wonder if those same voters will sit out the general election.
Senator Obama has yet to win a major state...Seems to reason why his electibility is being questioned.
If uniting the country is so important, why hasn't Barack Obama fought to have disenfranchised voters in Florida and Michigan reinstated? Oh right, they are major states that he probably wouldn't win.
With Florida in mind, the Democratic primary (which isn't going to count) had a record turnout of voters. Nevermind who won or lost. Because of Florida's leapfrogging of the system, candidates did not campaign in the state. That means no appeances, no bus tours, no fly-ins, and, most important of all, no annoying political ads. If it were up to me all campaigns would be run this way.

Enough of the politics...forget Red State vs. Blue State...Red wine & blueberries are much more to my liking this evening.

Cinco de Mayo, Oh My!

2008-05-05T17:51:00.003-04:00

Whoever said bankers were stuffed shirts and conservative.

Here I am for Cinco de Mayo, dressed for a fiesta.

Game Day Grumpy

2008-05-04T16:31:00.004-04:00

Since Thom is back home, I really should put up something new, rather than the recent wah wah wah about spending the week by myself. Currently, we are both on the sofa, laptops in their usual location--on our laps, of course--and nothing special is coming to mind.

I'm tired and grumpy. My softball team played only one game today, and lost in heartbreaking fashion. Being down, we scored 8 runs in the fourth inning to take an 11-6 lead. This lead lasted until the top of the last inning, when our defense surrendered 10 runs. Uncharacteristically, our usually tight defense (we give up an average of 7 runs per game) succombed to error-itis. It was ugly, and so is my mood.

Hopefully, this is a wake-up call and the team will come back stronger the next time. It's all about mental toughness, and right now our team is struggling with the cerebral aspects of game preparation. Some people thrive under pressure...others cave in (choke).

It's been suggested that I'm not playing myself as much as I should. There is truth in that statement. But when I'm concentrating on lineups, player moves, scorekeeping, and coaching my own mental preparation is lacking. It's difficult to come of the bench to deliver that big hit in a clutch situation.

So the kids must continue to learn from their errors without daddy rescuing them.

By My Lonesome

2008-04-30T20:52:00.002-04:00

This week is a challenge. Thom is away until Saturday night, attending a conference for work (one that I attended last year before getting the sack). It will be the longest time apart since we've been together. :(

It's kind of funny the little things you do together that become the things you miss the most when your lover is gone...Silent coffee in the morning (while we both check our email, blogs, and news); folding laundry together; deciding who will cook dinner (based more often than not on who had the most exhausting day).

So far, I am surviving the time apart. I've really been busy enough: working on the Blue Ice website; going to the most tedious 3-hour softball ethics committee meeting; doing laundry. Tomorrow night I might even go to the fields and watch some friends play.

Even so, Saturday night won't come soon enough.

Miss you, Thom (honey, sweetie, baby)

Castro Must Go!

2008-04-26T13:33:00.005-04:00

No, not Fidel.

No, not Raul.

I'm not a closet Miami Cubano, longing for the day when the Castro brothers are gone from this Earth.

I'm talking about Jason Castro and the American Idol television show. This show is about the search for the next great singing star. Unfortunately, it becomes more of a popularity contest with talent relegated to the background. This is so true in the case of Jason Castro.

This young man is getting by on looks alone--the cute little white boy with dreadlocks, killer dimples, and hauntingly blue eyes. It is there that his appeal ends...

You see, this boy has no strength to his voice, just this hollow monotonous drone. Worse yet, is the interviews the public has to endure. Castro seems unable to put together a single coherent sentence...Then again, from the look of his eyes, he just might be on something every show.

While talented performers are ousted (case in point: Carly Smithson), Castro sneaks through unabated. Thanks, I'm certain, to gaggles of giggling teen girls who've mastered speed-messaging on their ever present cell phones.

For me, there is no appeal, there is just a desire to see talent rise to the top...

With that in mind...

Jason Castro must go!

Ginger in the Hall

2008-04-23T20:49:00.004-04:00

This past Sunday, one of my dearest friends & teammates was inducted into the SFAAA (South Florida Amateur Athletic Association) Softball Hall of Fame. His contributions to the league are enormous. No one is more dedicated or passionate about making our league successful...both on the field and off.

Ginger (aka Mike) excels as a player. He has the skill to jump in at any position. His experience rubs off on the younger players who look to him for leadership.

We began playing together three years ago. When our team became so popular that we had an abundance of people wanting to play with the Blues, Ginger asked me to co-manage an offshoot team...Blue Ice. The two team compete fiercely against each other and, yet, remain family thanks in large part to Ginger's infectious personality.

Off the field, Ginger will do whatever it takes to promote the league; be it organizing a charity drag show, donning heels to wash cars, or selling raffle tickets. Like a pied piper, there is almost nothing that teammates and opponents wouldn't do to assist in his endeavours.

Here is how he ended his acceptance speech:

"Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved piece, but rather to slide in broadside,
thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and gayly proclaiming......WOW WHAT A RIDE"

It would be impossible to describe Ginger's zest for life in better words.

Congratulations to my teammate and friend, my hero and sister-in-life.

You can Bank on It

2008-04-19T16:27:00.005-04:00

Currently, I work as a teller in a bank. Following three months on the job, there is one thing that I am certain of...it is not my life's calling. I took the job as a way of getting my foot in the door, hoping it would lead to a better position in financial services. In a short time, though, I have been reminded over and over again why I am not really cut out for the corporate world.

In the best of worlds, I would leave this daily drudgery. The reality is much harsher.

The job market here in South Florida is becoming increasingly tight. Unemployment rates are nearing 5%, which doesn't take into account those who have run out of their benefits and have all but given up home (only recently, I was close to being one of these forgotten souls). Competition for decent paying jobs is stiff.

My branch also happens to be home of the area HR recruiter. So I see firsthand the changes. When I first started work, there might be 5-10 people taking job assessments per week. This past week, more than 30 people (from seemingly all walks of life & levels of experience) took these tests.

People are worried, and rightly so. South Florida is classified as a "soft" economic territory. Hard hit by the sub-prime loan crisis, hundreds of home are being lost to foreclosure. Tens of thousands more are on the market where values have plunged by more than 25% in the past few months. Many would leave the area, but are stuck with mortgage principal worth more than the price they can reasonably get when selling their homes.

It doesn't look to get any better in the near future.

So, for now, I am just thankful for a job...any job.

Like It or NOT!

2008-04-15T18:27:00.002-04:00

"I'm like outside."

So began the inane conversation I overheard while basking in the sun on my lunch break. It baffles me to hear professional people (at least she dressed the part) whose command of the English language has denegrated into the colloquial.

"Yeah, you can like walk down Third and you'll see me."

First, you either are outside...or you're not. Like, as in "kind of," owes no bearing as to whether or not you have made your way into the Great Outdoors. I really don't know when "like" became a sentence structure parasite. Maybe it began with the Great Valley Girl invasion of the '70s.

Sadly, it is now common usage (no matter how much it pisses me off).

Now, if you aksed me, the English language is a thing of beauty.

Explorations

2008-04-14T19:57:00.004-04:00

Slowly, this page is coming together. I peel back the layers and find features that surprise and excite. I enhance. I delve. I copy and paste from previously created pages. It is a work in progress.

I sit on the sofa--Big Bang Theory playing on the TV (the perfect compliment to the ultimate in geeky computer guy activities)--laptop humming through multiple processes. Thom sits beside me, working on his own template for blogging merriment.

Occasionally, one or the other will peep with gleeful wonder...."Look what I found!" Or, glancing across the expanse, one might exclaim..."How'd you get that?"

We live such an exciting life!

Along for the Ride

2008-04-13T23:33:00.003-04:00

Life seems to continually present us with challenges: high & lows affect our moods, hairpin turns jolt us in too many directions. The rollercoaster ride keeps pace from birth to death, even to the point of defying gravity and the laws of the universe.

Some of us laugh, some of us cry, some of us scream, and some of us will ride silently (paralyzed by either fear or excitement). Some throw caution to the wind--arms flung high in the air--while more hold on tight until the ride is over.

New job; loss of job. Marriage; divorce; dating; break up. Birth. Death.

Transitions; illuminations; metamorpheses; epiphanies.

How to survive? How to thrive?

Beats the hell out of me...

I'm just here for the ride.

I come to this venue from Yahoo 360: a place where I made some good friends, met my life partner, and unleashed my voice on the world of blogs. My energies for that social networking site have dwindled and ebbed. It is time to move in this new direction.

It is my hope that 360 friends will continue to follow my exploits on this page, as I will continue to follow theirs wherever they may be (if possible).

For now, I welcome readers (new & old) who choose to step inside this rollercoaster.
Dave

Recipe for a Rant

2007-08-15T16:51:00.001-04:00

RANT RAGOUT

1 Column of Misinformation
1 Head of Righteous Indignation
1 Bunch of Empty Rhetoric
1 Pile of Anger
Ample amounts of Cynicism and Sarcasm

In large cauldron, combine Misinformation, Righteous Indignation, Empty Rhetoric, and Anger. Raise temperature and bring just to boiling. Season the concoction with a handful of cynicism and a heaping cup of sarcasm. Simmer for 90 minutes or until your emotions boil over. Place on a platter and garnish with Stubborness.
Serves…no one.

Spin-Off City

2007-06-17T17:22:00.002-04:00

The concept of the spin-off is commonplace in the world of television. Just take All in the Family as an example. It spawned the Jeffersons and Maude, which in turn gave birth to Good Times. Spin-offs generally come as a result of a minor or recurring character that has been played with such élan that the public finds them as interesting as the main characters. One simple, signature line can catapult and actor or actress into a starring role; hence, the success of “Kiss my grits” Flo. Some spin-offs are wildly successful. Other…well, painful to watch.

Soon we will even be subjected to a slightly different type of spin-off series…borne from the ad campaign of an insurance company. Yes, the Cavemen of the Geico Insurance commercials are going to be featured in a comedy series.

While the genre of the spin-off is entrenched in TV land it has yet to take a toehold in the realm of the written word. Authors seem to crave originality. At the same time, formulaic plotting has become the norm in certain genres.

I think that truly creative authors are also avid readers. They devour books, infusing their literary hunger with soul-satisfying timbre, and they are constantly on the lookout for innovation. There have been some attempts to bring minor characters (sometimes with a bare mention) to life with richly woven storylines.

The past decade has provided us with a glimpse in the Red Tent, a novel from the viewpoint of Dinah, Jacob’s only daughter in the Bible. We have waited at home for our seafaring husband to return, knowing that his obsession will keep him away forever in Ahab’s Wife.

Did you ever wonder what happened after “God bless us, everyone?” Louis Bayard tries to answer that question in Mr. Timothy, a continuation of Tiny Tim’s story of healing and the ghosts that now haunt him. How did the Wicked Witch of the West get so angry? Well, in Wicked, we get a good idea of the reasons why.

Sometimes a story just screams for another perspective. We know of Dr. Jekyll’s tortured mind and experiments, but what about those who worked with him or for him. Mary Reilly by Valerie Martin tries to illuminate the story through the eyes of the good doctor’s chambermaid.

I have thoroughly enjoyed these books and crave more in this budding genre.

There are a couple of questions that come to mind:

Are there any books you have read that are continuation or spin-off stories of other literary characters?

Do you read books with a discerning eye and devour every character that graces the pages?

And…
From the pages of classic literature, what character would you like to find out more about?

Who’s small part demands extra attention?

Weaving the Threads

2007-05-26T17:03:00.003-04:00

In trying to put some of the pieces together, the mothballs are coming off of my long neglected novel. It has been more than a year since I last wrote even a word. New love, new jobs, moving, and life in general got in the way. I am hoping to use this forced inactivity to make some headroads into character development and plotline. Here is a glimpse into my writer's mind...A scene from the first chapter. I hope you all enjoy--David

Mildred Bohl hung up the phone, missing the cradle on the first attempt. She let Crane Holden's words run through her head, caught in a loop that magnified the horror with each replay. Her daughter was dead. Her only child was dead. Her Phoebe was dead. So she drank.

Not that she needed an excuse to drink. Since before Albert died, a bottle of Grey Goose had become her companion; her confidant; her lover. She walked, half-dazed, into the pantry, pulling a fresh bottle from the shelf. Into the freezer that bottle went, waiting its turn, only to be opened after Mildred had finished off the bottle that was sitting half-empty in the refrigerator.

Mildred walked toward the living room, grabbing a Waterford crystal highball glass from the curved-glass mahogany china cabinet as she passed. She may have been a drunk, but she still considered herself a lady, never drinking out of anything but the best. Arriving at her destination, she found her favorite rocker-recliner beckoning. It welcomed her like a featherbed, as she eased her fragile body into the chair that had become uncomfortable to anyone but Mildred; her bony body having made a permanent indentation after all these years. It would have been uncomfortable for anyone else—not that anyone ever visited her.

Vodka poured, Mildred closed her eyes and brought the faceted glass to her lips. The familiar clear, cold liquor passed through her mouth, down her throat, and quelled her loneliness. She savored its friendship. Isolation had become an unwelcome visitor over the years as her family deserted her. The only friend she found capable of retarding the descent into the well of self-pity was alcohol. It dulled the pain, but never healed the wounds.

She had been married to Albert Bohl for nearly twenty-five years before thousands of cigarettes began taking their toll. Ten years ago while Albert struggled to breathe, emphysema devouring his lungs, Mildred took to the bottle for comfort. Skeet, her younger brother, hated seeing his sister anesthetize herself to the torturous loss of her husband. He wanted to help her cope with the reality of life and death head-on, even to the extent of beginning the grieving process before Albert's demise. Hours on the phone hadn't helped. Praying together hadn't helped. All that Mildred wanted was to escape, to hide from Death's outstretched talon. At Albert's funeral, Skeet gave the eulogy. It made perfect sense that he would officiate at the funeral rather than the parish priest. But Mildred heard his eulogy as an indictment of her. In the middle of the eulogy, she screamed at him to 'shut the fuck up.' Skeet left the pulpit quietly and left the church, leaving Father Bryant to complete the service. Those were the last words between them. Recently, Mildred heard from her daughter that Skeet had returned to live in the town where they grew up. Father Skeet Mulvaney had become the new priest at St. Adalbert's. That pious fuck won't be giving the eulogy this time, Mildred thought, downing her glass and refilling it unsteadily.

About halfway through the second bottle, with her mind and body sufficiently numbed and wavering between lucidity and oblivion, Mildred allowed thoughts of Phoebe to seep into her consciousness. At one time, they were more than mother and daughter; they were friends. Phoebe wasn't your average child. She was an achiever. Mildred saw her failed self in her daughter, and never doubted that she was destined for great things. She was going to get out of that hellhole town. Phoebe's intelligence and drive were her ticket out, until… Why did she have to marry that man?

As soon as Phoebe and Brant started dating in high school, Mildred tried to come between them. She knew from bitter experience that loving a resort owner's son would resign her daughter to nature's purgatory. All her hopes and dreams would be put on hold. There would be no college for her daughter, just years of cleaning the rooms and fish house, cooking breakfast and fixing box lunches for hundreds of guests each year. It meant evenings of having strangers playing board games or working on jigsaw puzzles in your living room. It was a life of servitude.

All of her pleading fell on deaf ears. Nothing she did would break the bond that Phoebe had developed with Brant Holden. When the time came a year after her husband's death, Mildred found nothing ironic in wearing black to her daughter's wedding and ceding the newlyweds the deed to her dead husband's resort as a present. She knew her daughter's life was over from that moment onward.

Within a week, Mildred had arranged to move to Minneapolis. Though they still talked on the phone every week, there was rigidity to their conversations. Brant was never part of their discussions, neither was the resort. They spoke mostly of television shows and recipes. That is, until Mildred's first and only grandchild was born. At least Koi's birth had given them something to talk about.

30 Seconds of Fame

2006-04-19T17:34:00.000-04:00

There was a time growing up when I strived to find my 15-minutes of fame. I have yet to come across the singular defining moment, accomplishment, or chance encounter that creates the aura of cause celebre. Over the years, I have found myself on television: Bozo’s Circus (I missed out on being picked for the Grand Prize Game by one kid) and local access in Oregon the result of which is that I’m sure that somewhere my name appears on a file in the FBI archives—but nothing truly newsworthy.

There are those that have elicited the beginning of fads. I remember the first Streaker, racing through a sporting event. Word spread and so did the cheeks of many a runner. And in one of the few “follower” moments in my life, I too streaked. Erno Rubik created a strange little puzzle, but would anyone remember him or the origin? Not likely. Instead we are left with the legacy of a multi-colored cube.

Fifteen minutes of fame could also be seen as 15 minute of infamy. For a die-hard Cubs fan like me, the name Steve Bartman will endure. But for 99% of America, his name will melt back into the landscape of life; his brief bout with celebrity has passed.

Now, it seems that the length of fame has compressed. Our lives are downloaded, uploaded, and turned into a ZIP file. We text message, instant message, and send our mail electronically. Our phones have become our workstations and our window to the world. Wherever we are, we have the opportunity to take our personal experiences and spread them across the world.

No longer do 15-minutes of fame retain its power. We are now living in the Age of the Soundbite. The standard for fame has been compressed into 30-seconds. Our blogs, our YouTube clips, and our Flickr files offer the world our creativity and humanity. Men, women, and children from school-age to retirees are sharing their lives like no age before us. Lip-synching, dancing, puppet shows, and edited remixes find astronomical viewership in short periods of time.

This page has been viewed 967,566,333 times since 2pm.

It has been such an accomplishment for the World, that we—you, I, and everyone out there making their mark in the Internet—are being recognized as TIME's Person of the Year for 2006.
I, for one, will not take this honor sitting down. I will continue to strive for that one self-defining moment of idiocy that catapults me over the 1 million “hit” department.