A Drop In The Bucket

You notice the little things in life. The smallest changes in my everyday living seem so inconsequential yet, noticing them gives me pause as I think of the reasons for said changes. I notice that I’m only filling my gas tank only once every two weeks now that I’m working. When I was unemployed I would buy gas at least once a week. The obvious reason for the change is that I’m working six days a week, I don’t have time to do much driving and therefore, well, obviously I don’t need to buy gas as often as I used to.

Since I was a teenager I, like many others, have always had a coffee can or one of those large water bottles that I throw change into. I’d dig into it when I needed some gas in the car or, back when I was a smoker, a pack of cigarettes. When I moved to California I’d go to Tijuana and buy one of those ceramic “Piggy” Banks you could always find on the road. After I got married I remember Shelly and I bought one in the design of a Big Mac. The kids were very young and we decided to always empty our pockets into the “Mac” at the end of each day. After a number of months we gathered in the Living Room and cracked it open. It was quite the family event as we had told the Kids we’d get them a surprise with the money we had in the “Mac”. We ended up with about three hundred dollars and we took the kids to Disneyland and we all had a great time.

I currently have one of those water bottles that I spoke of earlier. I empty my pockets of any change and drop it into it on a daily basis and it can quickly amass a decent amount of cash that can be used for anything I may need in a pinch. While I was out of work it was quite the savior for a number of “emergencies”. After a while there wasn’t much left and it had stopped serving any purpose except to take up some space in my room.

Getting back to work I’ve noticed a change in the bottle. The level is going back in the right direction and it’s getting more silver into it again. When you are constantly digging into it, the silver is the first to leave the confines and eventually, all you have left is the copper color of pennies. I actually do what I can to not spend any of the change I gather during the day. I like to empty my pockets and drop it into the bottle when I get home. Like I said, it’s the little things in life that get noticed.

The C Word

I haven’t written much lately and that’s simply a case of my mind being in a decent place. I found work at a place that, so far, seems like something right up my alley. That’s a good thing. I like the type of work, the give and take with the people is something I’ve always enjoyed and have always been really good at. It’s been about a month now and I feel I’m getting into a comfort zone. That being said, that comfort zone has allowed other things into my head, some good, some not so good. I feel I am now getting the time to think about old things and allow new stuff to enter into this body of contemplation that’s been dormant for the last month or so.

Over the last number of months there seems to be a rash of cases of my friends or their family members being diagnosed with Cancer. They’ve been diagnosed with different types but the disease is just as devastating to their bodies, their minds and their entire circle of loved ones. My brother Steve was diagnosed with Cancer of the Liver almost two years ago and he was fortunate enough to have a transplant in a rather short space of time and he’s “cured”. I use the quotes there because I wonder if anyone is ever really cured. The games this insidious disease must play with ones mind is something I can only view as an observer and it’s so far reaching that I’ve felt like I’ve swung and missed at every pitch.

Since I’m more involved with the victims in these cases I’m able to see, on a daily basis, the effects Cancer has on an entire circle of people that surrounds the actual victim. I, along with many others, have seen instances of strength and courage normally reserved for World War II movies and have swelled with pride just watching these demonstrations both from a distance and up close. We’ve also all seen the damage done to this same circle of people mentioned above.

The more people I talk to about it, the more I realize that nobody is immune to this most evil of words I’ve ever heard or spoken. I, personally, currently know seven people that are either fighting Cancer or, just as sadly, have a family member dealing with it. I can’t do much else but think of these heroes every minute of the day and hope the pain they feel will soon go away. I post my status on Facebook on a frequent basis and have decided to honor these bravest of people by adding that number of friends that are facing this issue head on. I’m sure it’ll need updating and hopefully not just adding to the number. My little way of honoring them, if you know what I mean.

Cancer. What an ugly, ugly word. I can’t imagine anything decent being thought of about it. I’ve always been taught that names of things are capitalized when written out. I don’t think Cancer deserves that kind of respect. It’s a small little protest but I won’t use capital letters when writing it anymore. cancer, you don’t look so intimidating now.

An Old Post Revisited

Another sleepless night spent beating myself up over things I’m sure others would find unimportant. I just can’t seem to turn my brain off on these occasions and when my head starts sifting through thoughts, well, it’s always the bad ones that stick. I sift through the thoughts and almost everyone begins with the words, “I wish”.

One of the first posts I ever put up on the blog was titled “I Wish”. I was just rereading it and it’s pretty amazing how encompassing it is. I thought I’d reprint it here with a few updates and omissions. This is what I do when I can’t sleep and I’m feeling the world is coming down all around me. Thanks for your indulgence:


I wish I didn't make fun of that girl named Jean in Mrs. Mitchell's class in third grade.

I wish I wasn't a fat kid growing up. I'm sure my self-confidence would have been much higher throughout my twenties after I lost all that weight.

I wish Lucky would go lay down when I tell her to.

I wish Lucky knew how much good she has done for me over the last few years.

I wish my wife had never asked me why I found something funny, just let me find it funny.

I wish I could relive the month of May 1984 every month.

I wish I hadn't turned down the opportunity to dance with people that mattered.
I wish I didn't listen to certain songs over and over again when all they do is make me cry.

I wish I could explain why certain songs mean so much to me.

I wish I were better at double jeopardy. I have single whipped.

I wish I wasn't so afraid to be touched.

I wish I didn't long to be touched so badly.

I wish I were as good a singer in public as I am in my car.

I wish the television show "Freaks and Geeks" lasted longer.

I wish I still worked at the Vons on Balboa and Genesee.

I wish I liked to drink alcohol.

I wish I were a better Father.

I wish I had been a better Husband.

I wish I knew how to talk to my son.

I wish I had a belief in a higher power, for all the wrong reasons.

I wish people could understand how I don't.

I wish people didn't take their public lives so seriously, lighten up, I find it hard enough to make it through my private life.

I wish I didn't like Carly Simon's "The Carter Family" so much.

I wish I wasn't such a chick.

I wish I had the courage to backpack through Europe when I was younger.

I wish I had the courage to do it now.

I wish I had seen "Dances With Wolves" on the big screen.

I wish they would still let you go to the gate at airports to sit and wait for your party to arrive just so I could see all those emotions that I adore.

I wish it didn't cost $550 to put new tires on my car.

I wish money did grow on trees.

I wish I did have stock in the electric company.

I wish public speakers would pronounce immediately correctly, it's not ahmediately.

I wish I didn't have so much time on my hands.

I wish I didn't wear a watch. (I don’t anymore)

I wish I owned a professional baseball team. (Just to see all the games for free).

I wish I could be my friend.

I wish I could figure out why I find that so difficult.

More Daddy Issues

About a week ago I got a comment on a post that I found really interesting. Someone had stumbled across the blog and recognized my last name. It seems she used to work for my Dad when he owned the “ Head Shop” in Wyandotte when I was young. She said that Dad had given her a job at a tough time in her life and had made her feel safe. It was really a very nice comment and an even nicer thing to say about Dad. I called Dad and told him about it. He didn’t remember her by name but said it felt really good to hear the comment and that he had helped a number of kids back then. It also brought a number of conflicting thoughts into my head.

The first being the question of why not me? Why did he find it so easy to become so emotionally involved in some complete strangers life yet couldn’t tell you the date of any of his kid’s birthdays? I know, it is what it is and nothing can ever change that. I do, however, find myself getting these feelings of jealousy whenever anyone tells me about what a great guy he was. It’s really something to hear others talk about him like that. I have no doubt that Dad was a hero to many a scared kid that would happen upon the “Shake Shop”, that was the name of the store he had back then. It’s a very positive thing for him to be remembered like that. As I’ve said, there are probably numerous “kids” that recall him in a fond manner. It does, however, just go to help explain what I’ve said so many times before.

The relationship he had with these kids was plastic. It made it easy for him to shine. The woman who wrote the note about him said that those that hung around the store never knew him outside the “Shake Shop” and I think she, and anyone else in her position at the time, believe the man they knew to be different in his “personal” life. The sad thing is that she’s probably right. He was very different at home. He simply wasn’t there emotionally. It’s so strange to think that the things he could give to these total strangers so easily, were unavailable to his family. I know my brothers and sister would have gladly taken that plastic Phil that others were afforded but it wasn’t an option. We had the Dad we had and that’s what we have to live with. So be it.

If I were to talk to Dad today about any of this, he wouldn’t get it. I’m totally convinced that he thinks he was the same at home as he was at the shop. That he was the cool guy that made us feel safe just like the woman who wrote the note felt. Ok, let him believe it. There really is nothing to be gained from trying to hurt him. I know that he got the warm and fuzzies just hearing what this woman said about him and that’s a good thing. I don’t think I would have told him if she had said anything disparaging. There just wouldn’t be any point to it. He feels good about what I told him and I think I’ll just leave it at that. I feel good when I write about it so I’ll also leave it at that.

No Place Like Home

A couple years ago I posted a list of some of the things I’ve learned. It wasn’t anything serious, just a number of bullet points that I happened to have thought of on that day. One of the things I’ve also done on this blog is admit to a number of things I haven’t learned. That’s never easy for anyone to do and I’ve always found it to be an unpleasant experience. It’s never a picnic to admit ones faults and I just happen to be the kind of guy that always seems to focus on mine. It’s only within the last few years that I started writing about them and I’m sure there are many out there that are pretty tired of hearing it and for that, I apologize. I can’t help the things that are in my head and writing about them seems to help me in this never ending endeavor we happen to call life.

Something that has really come to the forefront over the years since my divorce is the idea of something I don’t seem to have ever learned and that is the ability to take care of myself. I left my mothers house in 1980 and literally floundered, with no real direction, for the next 10 years until I got married. While married, I was fortunate enough to have a wonderful wife that did an amazing job at helping me hide this corruption within my being. We’d argue about it once in a while but it was something we pretty much kept hidden within ourselves for 15 years or so. Seriously, if I’d been any better at growing up into what we all call “normal” adulthood, odds are I’d still be married and living within my own family unit. I don’t think I’ve ever admitted to Shelly, though she always knew, and the kids that I wouldn’t have made it for as long as I did without them. For this, I can never thank them enough.

I moved to Florida and floated around for a couple years and jumped at the first opportunity to move to Lansing simply because, deep down, I knew with my Mother and Sister around there’d be someone close to help me get by. I then found all these people from my hometown and thought I’d be strong enough to move away from the family and moved down to Detroit. I’ve never been too shy to tell all these people how wonderful it’s been being surrounded by this “family” I’ve found. What I haven’t done is admit to myself the idea of how, during my present situation, I could have never made it this long without them. It is truly indescribable how vital to my own well being these people have been and continue to be. I can’t imagine what I’d do without them. They are my new parents, wife, family, and most important of all, they are my friends. True friends. Friends that I could have never imagined I’d be worthy of in my entire life. It doesn’t seem to bother them in the least that I’m still this totally unprepared child in an adult body and the love I feel from them, each and every day, is something I can’t see myself ever getting over.

The gratitude I owe to my parents, Shelly, the kids and all these people here is a gratitude that can never be repaid and I’m sorry for that. All I can really do is thank each and every one of you and hope that they know that this is truly from the heart. Thanks for helping me feel I have a “home” wherever I’ve been. I just can’t imagine anyone being as fortunate in these matters as I’ve been.

Ball Of Confusion

First they came for the communists, and I did not speak out - because I was not a communist;

Then they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out - because I was not a socialist;

Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out - because I was not a trade unionist;

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out - because I was not a Jew; 

Then they came for me - and there was no one left to speak out for me.

I’m always one to engage in good debate. I can argue any side and sound like I know what I’m talking about. It’s something I’ve been doing for as long as I can remember. I’ve been accused of picking a side just to start an argument and it’s probably a valid criticism. I really don’t care so much about the end result, I just find that something usually comes out in these verbal tussles that interests me and I’ll go home and start to read about it. I can’t think of a time when I was truly stumped and was incapable of coming up with a valid response to something someone has said during these debates. Well, that is, until last night.

I was at a friends’ house with a number of others and the conversation turned to the Mosque being built near where the 9/11 attacks took place. Like I said, I enjoy a good argument so I thought we could really have some fun here. One of the guys there, someone I’ve known and has been a friend for almost 40 years, joined in and said he felt that all Muslims should be thrown out of the country. I was aghast. I wanted to make sure I heard him correctly and asked him a question that would help me clarify what I had just heard. Again, he stated that every Muslim in the country should be kicked out.

I was in shock. Here was someone I’ve known since I was a little kid saying things that I thought only those bigots you see on those documentaries said. I asked, if this was allowed what would stop a movement to kick all Jewish people out of the country and his response was that it would never happen. When I asked why he said that Muslims were different. Here’s the thing that really threw me: He was as serious as serious could be. I tried to explain that I thought it was a real dangerous and slippery slope to be on when we start picking which group or religion to legislate for or against but it was quite apparent that it was a useless argument from that point on.

I sit in confusion about the things I heard last night. I’m not sure how I’ll react when I see him again. I mean, we didn’t fight or argue the rest of the night away but I know it’ll be odd. I guess I’m naive in thinking that the people I grew up with would at least have their thoughts to be somewhat near mine. I don’t expect everyone to have my political beliefs but to me, this thinking is so archaic that it defies logic. I think I’m feeling a little hurt by my friends’ thoughts. I can’t see a common ground to meet him on in this yet I don’t see myself eliminating him from my life. It’s a little confusing.

I Just Can't Let It Go

I took one of those little tours of my old hometown the other day. Drove by the old haunts, the park, the Teen Center, old schools and neighborhood. I probably shouldn’t have cuz I woke up in a little bit of a down mood and that, to me, is never a good time to revisit the past. Whenever I’m in this kind of mood and do this my head takes me through all those regrets I’m sure we all have at certain points but seem to be a regular visitor in my mind.

I drive by my old schools and can’t help but get down about how hard I tried not to try. See the old baseball fields I used to play on and can’t help but remember quitting simply because it became an effort that I wasn’t willing to give. I could go on and on about those times and places where I see a point where a simple change of a decision could have made drastic changes to where I am today. I know, we all have these regrets and I’m not alone. I just happen to be the kind of guy that thinks about these things more than most and it obviously doesn’t do me any good.

It was raining, and being the self-loathing idiot that I am, I took a walk around the park, leaving my umbrella in the car. Here’s a place that I, along with so many others, spent most of my teen years. Everything I saw and everyplace I went would take me to a memory of my youth along with questions of why I did what I did in each instance. Why didn’t I stay with everyone when they all decided to do this or that? Why’d I go home when everyone else wanted to hang out at the Bonfire? Analyzing each step I took reminded me of Shrink and I talking on numerous occasions. She’d always say. “It must be so exhausting just being you.” and she’s right.

Of course I had my IPOD and it was just running through a random set of songs. It’s funny how, and I’ve mentioned it before, songs sometimes just appear at the very moment they make the most sense. “Heart Of The Matter” started playing and it came to the verse:

"There are people in your life
who’ve come and gone.
They let you down.
You know, they hurt your pride.

You better put it all behind you babe,
cuz life goes on.
You keep carrying that anger
It’ll eat you up inside.”

That person whose come and gone more times than I could ever count is me. I find it so hard to put it all behind me and move on, always have. I try though. I swear I do. Shrink’s right, it really is exhausting.

The song itself is about forgiveness. In this case it’s me that needs to forgive myself and that’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.