Writing for Sanity's Sake

There are good people, wonderful human beings everywhere in this world. Good Israelis, good Palestinians, good Russians, good Chinese. There’s good Christians, good Buddhists and good atheists. There are even good bankers, and rarely…even a good politician.

Most people are just trying to live their lives with good intent.

I believe that only a small percentage of humanity is truly bad or evil, but they are mostly the ones who drive society and everyone else simply either follows, or reacts to them. Some react appropriately some don’t.

I hope it is not many more years or decades until the vast majority of good in humanity recognizes the bad apples and has the strength to stop following them or simply ignores them.

As I was carrying around the big plastic “totes” in which we pack stuff to sell, I got to wondering how many years I have been doing this “going to shows…yard sales, etc.”

I looked back at some old pictures last night and found one from 1986 where I was sitting in my chair over at the old house on 9th street, and there were totes of baseball cards sitting behind me in the background. So, that would be 31 years. That’s about half a lifetime. And to think, I was going to “Trade day” and flea markets and going to card shows as a “customer” even before that date. I can remember collecting coins and stamps and baseball cards even as a kid, as far back as when I was ten years old. I think it’s just something inside me that compels me to be that way. It’s who I am.

I remember when Trade day started in Chattooga county, and it was down at the Triangle shopping center out in the “grassy area” Back then, it was mostly trading pocket knives, and some other simple stuff. Nowadays, it’s anything goes.

I think a lot of times that I wish I could snap my fingers and make all of the “junk” go away, but if I did I’d probably just go out and start collecting some more. Ah well.

In any case……Mentone Colorfest is coming up in October, and I’ll be there beside the Mentone Inn that weekend selling “stuff” I hope to see some family and some old friends come by that weekend…….

I developed a strange habit as a VERY young child. I learned to read quite young. At 6 my Dad would buy me one comic book a week. Of course I would read it immediately, then…there was nothing new to read. So, I read the same book again, and again. After many weeks I had many books to re-read. First the excitement of the new, then the comfort of the familiar. I developed favorites which would be read more often..friends so to speak. So, me and my boxes of comics, a familiar routine. Thus it continued all through my school years. I would read a book I liked, and in my mind I would “schedule” it to be read again at some future point. I was a voracious reader, tearing through books at a lighting pace. Many of them strange, books that rarely ever got checked out of the school library: Mika Waltari’ s “The Egyptian” read many times over. Michener’ s “Hawaii” And the classics too: “The Count of Monte Cristo” a dozen times. “Moby Dick” 4 times at least. I liked long books, and experienced a let down..a sad feeling when I finished them. “But I always can read them again” I thought. I have the time to revisit my friends. Now, as I lay here pecking away I realize that I have made too many friends to be able to revisit them all again. Especially with the development of this blasted Social Media, which is addictive and sucks away huge portions of my time. However, I have some time now before I sleep to go back and visit. No more posts or games of hearts for me tonight…I think I will go visit an old friend of mine….

What matters?? Your family matters.

I often wonder how I managed to end up in the middle of so many wonderful people. Wife and daughter. Sons. Grandchildren. Brother. Niece. Nephew. All of them. Good people. Those they have chosen to love and share their lives with. Good people.

Lucky. Good Karma. Blessed if you want to say it. Doesn’t matter the adjective. The tag is immaterial.

I have wonderful memories with all of these, and more wonderful memories from those who are gone which bubble up when my tired memory is on slow simmer like it is today. Mom and Daddy. Grandparents.

On autopilot. With tired muscles and foggy brain. But with good memories.

So if you wonder what life is all about, you don’t have to climb Everest, or seek out a Yogi, or read Socrates and Marcus Aurelius or even the good book.

Just look around you. Close by. Your life is happening close by. It’s doesn’t have to be sought out like a mystery. Just has to be recognized and worked on. Cherished.

Reach out. Put down your phones. Touch. Talk. Feel. Live.

Do it.

You have only the day, today.

Regret is such an empty, hollow and dark tunnel. You don’t have to go there.

Our brains are extremely complex organisms, which are still largely unexplored in many areas. One area that intrigues me is the subconscious or unconscious thought process which takes place when we sleep. I guess most people call it “dreaming” There are dreams, and then there are DREAMS. I think they take many different forms and possibilities.

I surely wish I could remember everything I had ever dreamed. Sort of like having a little “hard drive” built in to my brain where I could push the “save” button every time I start to go to sleep. I also wish that I could dream some of the things I WANT to dream about. I wish we could dictate to our brains the “script” of what we want to start out with in our dreams, and let them go forward from there. One thing I really wish I could dream about is running.

I have been exercising quite a lot lately. I started about 5 weeks ago and I have worked my way up to 45 minutes on the treadmill at 3.1 mph and an elevation of 1.0 I know that’s not much for most people, but for someone who’s had two heart attacks, 4 bypasses and one stent….it ain’t bad. I still have to be careful and not let my heart rate get above a certain point, so there is one treadmill that I always use which has a really good heart monitor. So, I’m walking pretty quickly but not running.

I would just love to be able to run across the country, sort of like Forrest Gump did. Running on and on and seeing things that I have never seen before. Taking the time to appreciate things which I have never appreciated before. Chances are slim of me ever running again in real life. Not for very long anyway.

I have started sleeping better since I have been exercising, but I used to lay awake for hours previously.

My wife and I always listen to music at night, and a few weeks ago as I was trying very hard to sleep, I began to actually see the musical notes in my mind. I was listening to Enya I think, and on all of the notes I saw silver and gold patterns in my head. The chords were like sunbursts and moon glow. The voice of the singers, which was angelic in nature, flowed through my mind like a deep blue river, rushing towards the ocean. No, I was NOT on anything! This was dreaming, and it was the strangest and most wonderful dreaming I can remember in quite a long, long time. I wasn’t deep asleep; I was just sort of in a land somewhere far enough away from reality for things to be ecstatically good. I am not sure that I will ever get a repeat of the “unreal” concert. I didn’t want to “wake up” I finally snapped out of that vision…even though I could have stayed in it for a long, long time.

On a very rare occasion, I dream of times past and of people who are now gone from this life. You would think this might be a more common type of dream. But, for me at least, it is very uncommon. I think maybe you have more and more of the dreams like this as you get older, because more of the people you have loved and known in your life start to leave. I dream of my Grandmother occasionally, most of the time in the kitchen cooking! I can still smell the biscuits cooking, and in the back of my mind wish I had gotten her to teach me how to make them! My mind yearns for a trip back. For just one more day, as Mitch Albom has so sweetly expressed in one of his books. One more day to say things that should have said, but which I always thought I would have time to say.

I used to help my Grandma sometimes and it was during this period of interaction that I learned a great deal about here philosophy of life. A lot of hard work mainly, but a lot of love for life too. When she had here 100th birthday, I asked her if she had it to go over again what one thing would she do or not do. She told me simply “Worry less, because worry never did change nothing!” It still doesn’t Grandma, it still doesn’t! Since Grandma died…Dad and Mom have gone on also, and occasionally I still see them in my dreams.

It’s just a shame that we can’t step into these kinds of dreams anytime we want to, and visit with our loved ones who are no longer with us. It’s also a shame that we don’t realize that some of the loved ones who are still with us now, may soon be a memory. We should tell THEM the things we need to, before it’s too late, and we can only visit them every once in a while in our dreams.

I really haven’t had any BAD dreams recently. Nothing which I would call a nightmare, or anything even resembling a bad dream. My granddaughter who is now a High School Junior, used to have them. Occasionally when she was little and would spend the night, my wife and I would wake up with her standing next to the bed: “I had a bad dreams…” she would say sleepily as she climbed into the solace and comfort of our bed. “It will be OK” I mumbled. And, I knew it would. Most of the dreams we have, we never remember, and I was pretty sure she would not remember her bad dreams by the time she woke up in the morning.

Last night I was awake until 1 am in the morning, and I was wishing so badly I could sleep. I sneakily turned my Kindle fire onto Netflix and pulled up “Forrest Gump” and fast forwarded to the point where he was running out and back across America. By the time he said “Just like that, my running days were over…” I nodded off slowly and slept dreamlessly through the night.

I am older now, so sometimes I feel like I am. October 21, I’ll be 68, if I’m lucky. I’ve spent the majority of my days since December of 2010 around babies. That’s saved me.

I know that some days my wife and kids, my daughter in laws might beg to differ, cause some days I’m a little curmudgeonly. That’s putting it kindly. My nature is not that of a calm, cool and collected cat. I’m more like the long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs most days. But I do love my little ones.

Being around little ones, and taking care of them, from their infant days on up isn’t an easy thing. It takes consistency, patience, and me helping my wife…who’s the consistent, patient one. Throw in a couple of wiener dogs to boot, and you got yourself a pack.

Paula and I have done this because we were able to. We’ve done it because we believe Grandparents are better in the majority of cases to care for their grandchildren then nursery schools. I hear about kids being left in hot cars, or being abused and my blood boils. I hear from people who complain about the way kids act in public, and wonder if they were ever children, or were just born full grown.

I have had all of my grandchildren from the oldest down to the youngest one who can talk spontaneously, tell me “I love you Papa” just this week…just today from my three year old. And my little eight month old blondie laughs out loud at my teasing. What else could I wish for?

I wish for a world for these beauties to grow up in, which is not full of hate. A world which really does judge character, and not looks, or the little differences that all humans have. I wish for a cleaner world, without all the pollution…plastic bags and bottles. I wish for a world which does not judge or condemn whoever they may end up loving. I wish for a world with the opportunity for them to know happiness, as I have known happiness. I wish for them a childhood where they are not required to act as little adults, but can play and squeal, make messes with their toys, color, read books and have hugs when they get little hurts.

I wish for a world where they can one day make up their own minds about how they wish to live their lives. I wish for them to have compassion as on of their main qualities.

That’s a lot to wish for, a lot to hope for. I’m not sure how much of this I’ll get to stay and see, or to participate in. I’ll take every minute I can get. I hope all of my family both children an grandchildren will carry mostly the good memories we have had with them. Certainly, they haven’t all even been good, because I’m far, far from a perfect example. All of my “skills” at parenting have been OJT. It’s a good thing my group has had their Mom and Nana around.

I guess the best that can be said is that so far, they’ve all turned out to be pretty good people. That’s something unusual and worthwhile nowadays.

What I need most is sleep, but most nights it eludes me. If I get five uninterrupted hours of sleep in a night, I count myself lucky! Sleep dodges my grasp. I can more easily catch a grasshopper in an open field than to catch 40 good winks.

I cannot “turn my brain off” as my Momma used to say. The neurons fire and fire and fire. And worry creeps in and makes the situation harder. “Should I have done this..” “Should I have said this…” “Is so and so mad, are their feelings hurt?”

Aw dammit. Those are the kind of things my Grandmother and Mom would both say…and neither of them slept good either. I don’t remember my Granny ever sleeping over four hours in a night. She was up at the crack of dawn every day.

My Doctor asked me today, “Do you want something to help you to sleep?”

I said nosiree.

I take enough pills now to keep the pharmaceutical companies in the black.

I’ll just get what I get, and keep on thinking and thinking.

And nod off during the day if I get still for more than a minute or two.

I fear I may just be like Edgar Allen Poe: “Sleep, the little death…how I loathe it” he said

He must not have been able to turn his brain off either.

I walked around town this morning since it was not too hot. I thought a lot while I walked. Forrest Gump said that’s what he did while he was running out and back across America. Thought about things.

I thought first about how lucky I am. I am luckier than 99% of the people in the world. I’ve never gone hungry or been homeless. I had good parents, I married a good woman and I have a good family. I’ve lived to almost 65 years now (thanks to modern medicine and some good heart surgeons) and most days have been good days. I’ve been free to read the books I wanted to read, and to get into my car and drive anywhere in the USA where I wanted to go. The creator of the Universe has given me the privilege and opportunity to live this physical life in this physical world, and the ability to experience all my human emotions. What a wondrous thing!

I thought about all of the bad things which have been taking place lately. My wife and I were discussing this just recently, and came to the conclusion that lack of respect for other people and their right to have their own opinions, lack of manners and politeness, and lack of love, are near the root cause of many of these bad things which are happening. Basic respect, which my parents taught me, and which I taught my children is sadly lacking nowadays. Respect for life, respect for beliefs, respect for different cultures, respect for personal space, respect for the opposite sex, respect for people’s property. On and on and on….

As Aretha Franklin sang: R-E-S-P-E-C-T!!

I have a problem with people idolizing people who have no respect for others. When it comes to something such as say…politics…I would vote for a respectful candidate who I didn’t necessarily agree with over a disrespectful person who I agreed with 100%. Yes, I am at that point. Respect and manners are that important to me now. As I have mentioned before, the scene from “Lonesome Dove” where Captain Call runs down the Scout who had just hit his young son with a whip and nearly beats the Scout to death, only being stopped from doing it by Gus throwing a rope around him. “I hate rude behavior in a man” he sputters to Gus “I won’t tolerate it”.

I guess that’s where we come in. We need to be intolerant of rude behavior, ranging from saying the “f” word in public at the local gym in front of a group of people including women, all the way to the ultimate rudeness of murdering someone in cold blood, to everything in between. We do…not…have to tolerate it. We do not have to tolerate the rude behavior of any religion which causes hurt or death to other people. We do not have to tolerate behavior from people who are supposed to protect us, which leads to the harm or death of other humans. I submit that we have essentially the same right as Captain Call to protest this rudeness albeit hopefully in a less violent manner.

I cannot cover all the things I thought about. I wish sometimes I had a little tape recorder in my head. I’ve forgotten some arguments over the years that would persuade Clarence Darrow. I’ve let some of the most winning of song lyrics float off through the air. I’ve solved the problems of the world many a night in my hot bath (due to the great circulation hot water causes to the brain) but they have slipped away on the fluffy towel as I dry off.

Anyway, I am thankful for this day and revel in the life it provides. I want to continue with it a while longer in order to help as many people as I can. I hope everyone has a great afternoon.

Circa 1965-1968 When Music Came in Cardboard Covers

I had the record player on a table in my bedroom. Just a square boxy old thing, which had a latch on the front, and a handle on the other end. Portable record player they called it. It was a beige brown color and had one speaker across the front with this mesh looking stuff on the outside. You could stack about 5 of the 33’s on the spindle and you had to have a “converter” to play a goodly stack of 45’s.

There was nothing more exciting than bringing home a new record album. You went to the store…Redford’s 5 & 10 most of the time for me, and you would stand over the bin where the albums were stored and flip through them. Once, twice, three times. Only enough money for one, but which would it be? It was mid to late 60’s…perhaps 1967, and a cool cover of guys dressed in the Blue and Grey of the civil war caught my eye. It was a group called “The Buckinghams” and featured a song called Susan. I liked it, and bought it and took it back home. There was always a ritual of removing the clear cellophane and easing the white “dust jacket” out. Most of the time there were graphics and other photos on these too…and I always enjoyed just pouring over the pictures, looking at the names of all the songs, the credits, who wrote the songs. It took time, and if was fun.

I’d put it on the bottom of the stack and add a couple of my favorites on top…most of the time it was late afternoon in the Summer. The most gorgeous of times, with the sun coming in from my West facing window, and shining in filtered rays through the shafts of fine dust I had kicked up from my activity. I’d lay down on the rug in my room right next to the record player and for the next hour or two I would listen to the music, feel the music, and live the music. Right there in a three square foot space, I transcended the normality of the moment and exceeded any expectations I had for the future. Then the music stopped.

I got up and stretched and carefully took my albums off the portable record player, and carefully held them, carefully put them back in the dust jackets and stored them back in the cardboard covers. I put them in a box carefully and lovingly, knowing I would listen to them again in a day or two. Never longer than a day or two.

Those were tactile days. Days when music came in an enjoyable, holdable, seeable packages. Wonderful iconic images came from those days. Wonderful memorable music which I remember to this day and can still sing every word of every song.

Today, I mostly just pick a song off of iTunes and it’s downloaded on my phone. I don’t have time, or don’t take time to lay on the floor for an hour and listen to music. Mostly now, it plays in the background at night to soothe our sleep.

I really don’t get as much pleasure from new music as I used to…….and it’s hard for me to remember the words. Maybe because I’m in the late 60’s now, and the world has moved on to 2017 and left me behind.

I sometimes think, I do not believe in God. Yet I must. I cannot help myself. I must believe that each of us has a living spirit inside, which is uniquely ours and which was given to us and us alone. Nobody else possesses this tiny piece of creation.

It is ours.

I’m not sure of all the technicalities of this life we live. I feel like nobody truly knows the whole story. I don’t believe God wants us to know the whole story. We have our many religions and beliefs, and I won’t express any opinions about any of them. You believe what you want to, and I’ll do the same.

In the movie Forrest Gump, Forrest came to this conclusion:

“I don’t know if we each have a destiny, or if we’re all just floating around accidental-like on a breeze. But I think maybe it’s both. Maybe both are happening at the same time.”

I wonder if that’s true? I wonder too about our time here in this physical world. I’m almost 68, and so far, that is my time. It is my entire life up until now in this body. When my time is up, I wonder….where will that tiny piece of creation that keeps this body animated, moving and interacting go?

In September of 1970, my wife gave birth to our daughter Karrie Lynn. She only lived for two days. She was perfect when she was born, but got sick and died. The entirety of her life on the earth was two days, although my wife carried her inside for nine months. Her spirit was just the same in size and scope as mine, she just didn’t get as much time here. Does that fact decrease the importance of her life? Was it her destiny to only live for two days?

I think about it a lot, but I’m not sure of the answer.

If somehow after I die, I can interact with the spirit that was my daughter, I certainly want to do so. I don’t know how that interaction will manifest itself. It doesn’t much matter to me, as long as t does. I don’t think it will be as a father-daughter type meeting, but more of a spiritual reunification. I personally don’t think we will retain this “earthly” identity of what we were here. It would be kind of strange if we did.

Again, this is just my feelings on the subject. You can feel differently if you want to, it won’t hurt my feelings.

I also think that people who have lost children before they are born because of other things which may have happened, will have that same spiritual recognition. I think we will have that reunification with any and all people we have loved here, or have touched in some meaningful way.

A lot of people believe in heaven, but I’m not sure exactly the nature of that situation. Maybe it varies. I have no answer for that. I admire people who have the inscrutable and ironclad faith that there will actually be a physical residence somewhere where everyone who qualifies will gain entrance. I once believed it. But that’s not my belief anymore. Please don’t hate me, or pity me because of it. I’m not belittling your belief. I just don’t think that way anymore.

I do believe there will be more, but I think the total details will not be revealed until we breath our last breath here.

I still cannot agree with Jean-Paul Sartre though, and his existentialist view of man:

“at first, he is nothing. Only afterward will he be something, and he himself will have made what he will be. Thus, there is no human nature, since there is no God to conceive it. Not only is man what he conceives himself to be, but he is also what he wills himself to be.”

I believe we are something. I believe we are all very much something special and unique. That we are given that tiny piece of creation, and we are given the time in which to live it, no matter if that time is great…like my Granny Stewart, who lived to be 100, and who told me that the years were like days to her as she aged….or like my daughter, whose two days may have seemed like a full lifetime….. because after all, it was.