Who'd A Thunk?

As with all good things in my life, I somehow find a way either through mine, or someone else’s doing, to get things all screwed up. Things have suddenly taken an unfriendly turn at work and it’s unlikely that I’ll be there much longer. There are numerous reasons but the bottom line is I’m not happy and neither is my new boss. I’ve started throwing out resumes and, hopefully, something will come up relatively quickly. I’m still working but I’m expecting things to reach the point of either staying or leaving any day now and you know what? I’m ok with it.

I’m not going to go into the whole story but suffice it to say that both myself, and my direct superior share the blame. I’m not going to say that I have been perfect and it’s his entire fault because that’s simply not true. What I will say is I will lose no sleep if I never see this man again. To say that we don’t see eye to eye is a major understatement.

That being said, as those who know me probably realize, that old urge to run like the wind is blasting into my head. It doesn’t even matter where I’d end up, just packing the car and going would do the trick. These are not new feelings, I’ve written before about the numerous moves around the country I’ve involved myself in. Something’s different this time though. Normally I’m set to go without a thought of what are both in front of me and what I’m leaving behind. This time, it’s different.

It’s different for a number of reasons but none more important than what I’ve found and written about in the past, it’s friends. It’s the people that have become, literally, my reason for being here in the first place. I can’t imagine my life without this new/old group of friends being a part of my daily interactions. Two years ago I could have packed up the car and headed to Montana, Florida or any other place in the country. Not now. I was talking to my sister about this whole thing the other day and she knew how badly I wanted to leave. She also knew that it wasn’t even a possibility though. She told me what I’ve written about number of times, I’m home.

For whatever reason, and it’s not one I would have ever believed, I have found a group of people that I can’t live without. For even stranger reasons, that I’ll never quite understand, they seem to like me an awful lot. I can’t describe to you the feelings that run through me just thinking about this. Never having been one to even like myself just a little, it’s quite overwhelming to think that there’s this group of folks that think rather highly of me. So no, I can’t even imagine leaving this comfort zone full of warmth that I’m still so unsure of how to deal with but hope will never go away.

So, I’m looking for another job and I’m limiting my search area. I have to. I don’t see myself ever leaving this area. I’ve always done quite well on my own. It’s easy for me to just work and go home and that’s what happens when I’m in a place that’s new. I don’t do well making new friends so the area remains new for as long as I’m there. Yes, I do quite well in that scenario. I, however, seem to flourish, socially, in this area of friends that I’ve placed myself in and I can’t tell you how wonderful it feels.

The song I have set up for this post right now is Mona Lisa’s And Mad Hatters by Elton John. I’m not a believer in anything more than I can see but there’s a line in the song that, if you are one of these friends I’m talking about, pertains directly to you. “I thank the lord there’s people out there like you”. and I do.

I've Got Daddy Issues

Been working on the Dad thing for a few days now. By that I mean trying to reconcile who he is with who I wanted him to be. This may get pretty tough at times and, if he happens to read it, he’ll more than likely get very upset and I’m truly sorry if that’s the case. I hope if he does read it, he understands what I’m trying to accomplish by doing this whole writing thing. I’m not real sure how to start this so I’ll just lay out some of the things about him that have always made me wonder.

The first, and I think most telling, thing about the man is the fact that I was married for more than 15 years. During those 15 years I spoke to my Father about once a week. I would constantly talk to him about my family, my wife and the three kids. I can’t tell you how shocked I’d be if, today or at anytime since I was first married, he could tell anyone the names of my now ex wife and kids. I don’t think it was anything malicious on his part. I just don’t think he considered it important. I honestly don’t believe that he, himself, thought there was anything wrong with it. A rather humorous side note to this is knowing that he could tell you the name of my dog without blinking an eye. Isn’t that weird?

When I was very young I lived in Trenton. Mom worked in downtown Detroit and Dad had his shop in Wyandotte. Dad’s friends at the time were, and I’m not exaggerating, all drug addicts. This was the mid to late 60’s and I think they were just called hippies but, in reality, they really were just druggies. I don’t have a problem with one having friends like this. Looking back I find it almost criminal that he would have these guys over the house on a regular basis. I can remember times when one of these friends would come by the house to take either one of us kids to Dr’s appointments when Dad and Mom were both working. They were as welcome in our home as any family member. I know Mom wasn’t real happy about it but, honestly, what could she do? She was far too busy trying to keep the power from being shut off on a regular basis.

I look back on those early years and realize that Dad never went to any school or sporting event that any of us kids were involved in. He always said that he had to work. Understanding what the business was that he had I know that he didn’t have to be there. I now realize, and I know this sounds harsh, that there was just nothing in it for him. See, when Dad would be at his shop, the people that hung around there were those that were far inferior, intellectually, to him. He literally was the “King of the Palace”. It was his world and everybody there understood that. When it came to us kids he had to work, emotionally, to be involved. It’s that single thing, working emotionally, that becomes the key to everything about the man. He either wouldn’t or, sadder still, couldn’t work that hard.

Whenever anything happened in any of our lives Dad would only be there until it became uncomfortable. Karen’s wedding, he had to leave in the middle of the ceremony. My Bar Mitzvah, he stayed until a special delivery was received from his boss that was a check for me. He was so proud to literally put a stop to all conversation in the room and have me open this gift. He left minutes after I opened it. When his Father died, he only came in for the funeral and left before the first night of Shiva was complete, the same for his Mother. His way of justifying things to himself was to throw money at it. He paid for a lot of the food and things so he felt his job was done. At his Mother’s Shiva, I had to drive him to the airport in a major storm so he could get out of the emotional predicament he found himself in. These stories aren’t being told to be mean, I’m really trying to understand the man and it’s starting to all make more sense now.

Dad’s sick now and none of us are really sure what exactly is wrong. He got mad at my brother for talking to a Dr. about his illness and he only gives us snippets. He told me that he was going to have an angioplasty and would need a month to recover. A friend of mine that’s a nurse is surprised by the recovery because it’s usually outpatient surgery. I think there’s more going on than he lets on but I don’t think he really understands it. It makes him uncomfortable to think about it so he just shuts it down when it’s being explained to him. Again, it just makes him use emotions and, I really hate saying this, but I’m not sure that he has them. I find it difficult to come to this conclusion but I’m so afraid he’s just empty inside from not using those emotions for almost his entire 78 years.

Dad’s facing the idea of his mortality and I know that’s not a comfortable thing for anyone. For him, well, I can’t imagine being in that room, late at night, all alone with the lights off. Those unused emotions, just bursting to get out, to help him get through this and he’s so unpracticed at it that he just plain doesn’t know how to use them. Granted, I am way more emotional than most but he’s so far on the other end of the scale it scares me to think of him in that position.


I know it may not seem to be the case but I do love him and when the day comes when he’s no longer with us I will miss him dearly. I’ll miss the conversations we’ve shared. He’s a really bright guy and we’ve had some great ones. I’m just so sorry that, well, see, that’s the problem. I’m not really sure what I’m sorry about.

The Old Apartment

Sometimes, as I’m sure happens to many, I just plain wake up in a down mood. It’s not unusual, when this happens, that it sets the tone for the entire day. I’m sure there are numerous psychological explanations for how and why this happens but it still kinda sucks. The late comedian, Richard Jeni, had a routine where he talked about how when couples are in the middle of a breakup they invariably only hear love songs on the radio. No matter how hard they try, or which station they punch up, whatever song comes on is something that keeps the breakup in their mind. It’s a very funny routine and it really is odd how true the concept is.

There are also those, like myself, that almost search out things that will keep the mood in their mind. It’s almost like I’m searching for validity for the down feelings that are running through me. It then becomes almost vital to me to keep pushing that envelope of sadness to ensure that it doesn’t go away. There are also triggers that, no matter what my mood is, will set a new mood in motion. Again, I’m sure this is common for most if not all of us. One of those triggers for me, that I’ve just recently realized, is the song, “The Old Apartment” by Barenaked Ladies.

The last time I saw the band was New Years Eve of 2008 and it was an incredibly emotional day for me. It was the day my brother Steve called and told me he had cancer. I wrote about the concert and I know most of you read it at the time. For those of you that haven’t seen it, I’ll try to figure out how to put the link in this post. I do believe it’s one of the best pieces I’ve ever written even though the subject matter is not what one would consider a “feel good moment”. Before I go on let me say that Steve is doing great. The transplant was done a year ago next week and, of course, we’re all thankful.

Back to the triggers thing.

Every once in a while I like to go through the things I’ve written. Do a little self-criticism, if you will. When I do this I always find that the posts that I think are really well written are those just filled with sadness. I find myself welling up with tears while reading them, yet still force myself to read the entire string of post relevant to that subject. That’s kind of strange. It’s weird that what I believe are my proudest moments in writing are those that take me to a place that ensures sadness.

Here’s where the Barenaked Ladies thing comes into play. The band has recently announced a tour that will bring them to the area soon and I jumped at the possibility of seeing them again. I’ve seen them a number of times and, as most know, I’m a big fan. Before I went to the website to look at ticket prices and other logistics I grabbed their greatest hits cd and put it on. The first song on the album is “The Old Apartment” and as I was looking at the site, with the song playing, I literally had, what might be called, a breakdown. The entire evening of the last time I saw them, and everything that went along with it came rushing into my head like a freight train. I couldn’t turn the cd off fast enough and quickly left the site and realized there was no way I could possibly see the concert.

I woke up the other morning in one of those down moods I spoke of earlier. Got in the car to go to work, and of course, put the cd in that I spoke of earlier. It had the effect I knew it would and ensured a crappy mood for the day. Why do I do this to myself?

Not sure if the link below will work for the piece i spoke of. If not, copy and paste if you want to.

http://kmittleman.blogspot.com/2009/01/bittersweet-symphony.html

I Do Hope For The Best

I got a text at work Friday night from the woman that my Dad lives with. It said, “they’re moving him to I.C.U.” I called her immediately to ask what was wrong, I didn’t even know he was in the hospital. Laverne told me that ever since he had the pacemaker put in, he’d had a problem with falling down. I knew about an incident, a week or two earlier, in which he had fallen while walking a friend’s dog and required a trip to the emergency room where he received a number of stitches on his face and had a number of scratches to go along with it. I’d spoken to him a couple times since then and he seemed fine. We were able to joke about how unattractive I was sure he looked.

So, again, why was he being moved into the I.C.U. let alone be in the hospital? Well, it seems that when Laverne brought him into the hospital for his normal visit with the Dr. she mentioned the falling down. The Dr’s. felt this was something they should check out and admitted him into the emergency room and ran some tests. It was during these tests that they discovered two things. First: the pacemaker was set too high and they needed to adjust it. No big deal, I’m sure this kind of thing happens more than we all would think. Secondly, and more importantly, they found what Laverne called, a slow leak in his heart that would require surgery.

Dad’s been going to the V.A. Dr’s. pretty much since he retired and was at the local hospital in Chicago. It turns out that they either don’t do this type of surgery there or none at all so they will have to move him to Milwaukee on Monday for the operation to take place there. I’m pretty sure this is not some earthshaking operation and it probably gets done on quite a regular basis. I know that with all the advances in medicine he’ll be in much better hands than he would if this was 20 years earlier. That still doesn’t make one take pause and wonder if this is possibly the last time I’ll ever hear from him. I know, that sounds so morbid and pessimistic but it’s not meant to be. Dad’s going to be 78 in July and has never been in any kind of shape physically. He’s never been one to exercise or eat properly and at his age, let’s just say, things started to catch up on him years ago.

I’ve written a number of things about my Father and his relationship with his children so I won’t rehash any of that now. What I will say is that I hope he comes through this in good shape and lives many, many more years. I do wish I was more invested in this emotionally than I seem to be. It just seems like I should be all about this right now and I’m having a hard time getting all worked up about it. I feel bad about that but I can only feel what I feel.

A Shadow Of Doubt

It’s an amazing thing, what self-doubt can do to a life. It can change the course of ones existence so drastically and bury one so deep within himself that the true inner person may never see the light of day. Self-doubt often plays such a large role in life that it really doesn’t matter what others are telling you about yourself. Their compliments and praises are but a faint noise compared to the booming voice inside your head telling you no or you can’t do this or that.

I’m sure we’ve all been victims of this disease called doubt and I’m sure the stories out there, for some, are true tragedies. I know from my own experience how crippling and controlling it can be. Doubt can take you away from family and friends and create layer upon layer of a shelter so thick that, without help of some sort, you may never find your way out.

As a small child I was constantly being teased about being fat. As is quite the norm for children, my two older brothers and their friends would always come up with some line or joke about my weight. As is want to happen, I started not only believing what those around me were saying, I started to build the first of the numerous walls I’ve surrounded myself with throughout my life. I bought into this fat thing so much that after I got sick in high school and shrunk to 123 lbs. with a waist line of 24, I still thought of myself as fat. I’ve gotten a lot better about it, and though the thought of being fat isn’t the constant it once was, it’s still there.

I know that the effect of growing up with that type of doubt about myself has played a major part in numerous events throughout my life. The easiest example is my absolute failure in developing any real romantic relationships. That’s not really the right term. It’s my failure of trying to develop said relationships. Yes, I was married, but there is no way anyone who saw that develop could say I was in any way the catalyst in that relationship. Actually, my lack of belief in myself was probably the one thing that ensured that the marriage wouldn’t last.

Don’t misunderstand what I’m saying here. I’m not blaming my brothers for the problems created during my youth that I’ve allowed to control my adult life. I’m just trying to pinpoint the beginnings of some of the issues that have helped to create those walls I spoke of earlier. I’m also quite aware that all kids are made fun of and teased and many never carry any of that trash past their youth. I, on the other hand, wasn’t able to shake that stuff when I was supposed to leave my childhood behind.

I’d like to think I’m putting some cracks in that oldest of walls that have surrounded me for well over forty years. I still have a poor self image but not as bad as it once was. I’d also like to believe that I’m constantly working on breaking down those other shields I’ve surrounded myself with. It is , as is most of life, a process, a process that probably takes a lifetime to complete. I figure that as long as I keep working on it, things can only get better.

Don't Mess With My Facebook

I’ve been reading Mitch Albom for years. Always enjoyed his stuff and look forward to the Sunday Free Press just to read his column. In todays column Mitch wrote of a number of things that he’d like to see happen in 2010. One of the lines he wrote was “Bye bye Facebook”. Well, if you know me at all, you know I just can’t sit and let that go without comment. I just sent an email to Mitch Albom about this and I’m just going to copy it here.

Hi Mitch,

First off, let me say, I'm a huge fan. I've enjoyed your writing for years and have written to you in the past. I even received a reply to an email I sent a few years ago and I found that to be very nice. I met you at a Best Buy a year ago this past summer and you were quite generous with your time as we spoke about that evenings "Police" concert. Again, I'm a big fan and read your column on a regular basis.

I feel the need to comment on today's column. I must say I agreed with all but one line. "Bye bye Facebook". I need to tell you, Facebook has changed my life only for the better and, if you have the time, I'd like to tell you how and why.

I grew up in the Detroit area and left Michigan in 1980. I lived in Southern Ca. for 25 years and, after my divorce, moved to Naples Florida. I was alone and had few friends, not being one to frequent bars and clubs, it's been a common theme throughout my life. After a couple years down there I decided to move back to Michigan to be closer to family.

After a number of months working in the homebuilding business I received an email from friend in Spain asking me to join her on Facebook. I did it just for laughs and we would converse on it every once in awhile. After a number of months I deactivated the account and thought nothing of it.

A short while after that I got an email from a friend saying they had been looking for me on Facebook and couldn't find me. I reactivated the account and connected with this friend. I then started looking for any name from my past and found many people from my high school that I hadn't seen since graduation. As the site grew more popular, the number of people from my past that I was in contact with grew with it.

Never having been one to go out much, I would always spend evenings home alone. Having reconnected with this group of people I began to socialize on a regular basis. Facebook is responsible for that. There is no way I would have been able to reconnect with all these people had it not been for this site. Just the other night I went to a New Years party at a friends house that I never even spoke to in high school but, again, because of Facebook we have become rather close friends.

My 30'th high school reunion was held this past November. Facebook, again, played a major role in not only getting everyone together but in keeping me in contact with all these people that I have developed a fondness for that I've felt for very few in my life. Again, without Facebook, none of this would have happened.

I've reconnected with a friend from my youth that moved to Australia, wouldn't have happened without Facebook. I go out for dinner on a regular basis with folks that I never would have found had it not been for Facebook. Suffice it to say Mitch, to paraphrase Chico Esquela, Facebook been bery bery good to me. I know of at least 200 others in my circle that would agree with me on that.

I stated at the beginning of this note that Facebook has changed my life. It has in so many ways with each being better than the other. I owe that kid that started this site more thanks than I could ever give. I owe him the debt of helping me find happiness in a life that always had a hard time locating it. No, Facebook isn't the only reason for said happiness, but it was the agent of change that encouraged it more than anything else and I will defend this site forever because of that.

Thank for listening Mitch,

Kevin Mittleman

Honey, I'm home!

Tried real hard not to write yesterday even though I felt this mad urge all day long. I’m a pretty nostalgic kind of guy and even though I went out a couple times with friends, all I kept thinking about was that last New Years day was not a very good day at all. It was the day that I woke up with the realization that my brother had cancer. I couldn’t possibly count the number of times I found myself getting chocked up at the remembrance of that day. Thankfully Steve survived the scare and everyone’s feeling good about the way things turned out.

So why try to avoid writing all day? I just felt that once I started writing about it I’d spend the entire day doing nothing but dwelling on it and making myself, yes, forcing myself, to be down. I just didn’t want to feel that bad all day. That’s what happens when I write about something that has made me sad or is in the process of it. I dig myself into this funk that, though I might argue makes my writing better, just keeps me in the doldrums for the entire day.

Even though I kept thinking about Steve and the events of a year ago, I kept myself busy enough to make sure it didn’t destroy the day. I ended up meeting a friend for breakfast, came home and napped on and off for a few hours, then met the same friend and another for dinner and a movie. We had originally planned on going to this animation festival but once I found that the admission didn’t include the $15.00 bar minimum I was sort of turned off by the event. I can’t imagine a time that I would find myself drinking $15.00 worth of alcohol.

I did have a number of rather random thoughts throughout the day. I’ve been finding that I can really make the day go much smoother when I don’t totally concentrate on whatever the subject is at hand. It’s a good thing that I’m able to multitask in that way. I can easily converse with friends over dinner while at the same time run a number of different thoughts through the filter. I’m even able to store something for later if I think it’s something I may feel the need to write about.

Throughout the day I kept finding myself heading towards one common theme in these random thoughts. I kept getting to the end of whatever the stream was and would find myself thinking that it was good to be here. By here I mean the whole package. I mean it was good that I was able to spend New Years Eve at a friend’s house with a number of other folks and not feel pressured to do anything. It wasn’t too crowded, or too loud. It was easy to jump into a conversation if I felt the need, and just as easy to pop right back out of said discussion without feeling guilty.

By here, I mean walking Lucky in this ridiculously biting wind that wouldn’t go away yesterday morning. I mean, here in the middle of a million snowflakes, as I run out to my friend’s car as we headed out to breakfast. This friend, being someone I’ve known since I was 11 years old and have probably had a similar ride, out to breakfast with him at least a hundred times.

By here, I mean going to dinner with these friends I’ve known forever and walking to the theater from the car and the only thought I could verbalize in the frozen air was, “Dang, it sure isn’t warm out here.” By here I mean coming home after the movie and getting online and chatting with a few friends that I’ve only begun to know in the last year or so. By here I mean home.

Yes home. I’m starting to feel a little comfortable in my skin for the first time in ages. It’s different but doable. I have to register my car on Monday and I’m switching from Florida to Michigan. I’m debating on whether to get a personalized plate or not. If I do get one I’ve been thinking about what it might say. I think I might see if “I’m Home” is available.