Sometimes You Just Have to Sit Back and Shake Your Head

There is still a part of me that wants to opine on the news daily. I do my best to ignore it all. Every poll tells the same story: No one trusts the media; No one trusts the government; Hollywood is slowing dying as they put diversity above talent; Biological men are competing in women’s sports; Schools pass everyone so no feelings are hurt; Our universities are graduating kids with no marketable job skills.

Fortunately, I know many people who are fighting back. Sure, many Americans are legal gun owners, but that does not mean an armed revolution. No one wants that.

So for now, I sit back and shake my head. I pray for the nation that created the Declaration of Independence and the US Constitution. Some believe these are obsolete documents written for a time far in the past. I guarantee those people have never read either document. In fact, the Constitution is very short. Anyone could read it in just a few minutes. All it does is establish the structure of government, period. That has lasted over two hundred and twenty years.

The one thing I know is that fads come and go. Remember pony skirts and tie-tied shirts and Disco? Where are they now?

We have had many great presidents, Congressional leaders, and Supreme Court justices. Just not today, although Clarence Thomas is my pick for the greatest current Justice.

Think about Franklin Roosevelt, our only four-term president. His presidency started out poorly as the Depression deepened when he came to office. Then came Pearl Harbor. FDR rallied our country and led us to defeat the Japanese and Germans.

We can never forget Abe Lincoln, who saw us through the Civil War after the South seceded. At the moment of his greatest triumph, he was assassinated.

Then there was Jack Kennedy, who in his inaugural speech told us: “Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for our country.” He too was cut short by an assassin.

Also remember Ronald Reagan, who caused the collapse of the Soviet Union, leading to freedom for Eastern Europe. He also ended the rampant inflation caused by his predecessor.

I have faith that future presidents like them will right the ship of state. They will require the assistance of the Congress and all of us. I wish it would happen today, but that is not possible.

In the meantime, I guess I will continue to sit back and shake my head, with full faith in God and the American people to fix what has been done to our great country. I hope you live in a state less messed up than mine, and that we all will live our lives as our Founders intended.

Aging is Definitely Not for the Timid

Life is one of those lessons we all must learn the hard way. There is no shortage of time-tested adages about how we change as we age. I know because I have said and heard them all over the years. Those trite sayings lack all the scope and depth of emotional and physical changes each of us has encountered along the journey.

I already wrote about my youth and some may notice the story is sketchy. In truth, it was not a storybook tale. Life is tough and can be gritty, even for a small child. One of my early memories was the passing of my great grandmother when I was seven years-old. The memory is etched in my mind as I broke my arm that day, after the funeral. I do remember the cast I had to wear for several months. Difficult stuff for someone that age, but I am not complaining. Life happens. I am not here to lament any of the things that happened in my childhood. We do not choose our parents, maybe.

A big part of me believes we choose to experience life with old friends. When we are born, we no longer remember those choices, but those same souls are all around us. If that is true, it is a wonderful thing. At the time, we do not remember our life before birth. After this life, we will understand again.

Family life was plenty of challenges. My father was gone a lot, doing his job as a pilot. My mother could not handle that emotionally. My brother had his own friends. That left me alone a lot, which is how I came the be the introverted, somewhat intense person I still am today.

College changed me quite a bit. I had friends my age at the dorm. Some of my classes were quite difficult, while others were a real pleasure. Speaking of great classes, I took an Asian Religions class at the university. The professor amazed me. He would sing, play the lute, and do calligraphy in front of the class. He was truly one in a million. With all these experiences, I was coming into my own. I began to understand that my intensity was actually my intellect. Whoa! What a transition! Before I knew it, college was over and I started working for a living.

It turns out that I graduated at the beginning of the Carter Administration. While the economy was floundering and inflation was rampant, I was in my twenties and having a blast. A twenty-something person has infinite hope and high aspirations. That was me.

After two job changes, I found myself in San Diego. Paradise! The company I worked for had its factory in Tijuana. I worked with company management to get a new building and move other factories there. My future was bright. I thought I was on top of the world.

Then I met the love of my life at the Berlitz School with two coworkers attempting to learn Spanish. I was smitten from day one. We had some ups and downs, but were married five years later. I thought I had picked the golden ticket, and I had.

That relationship continues to this day. Yes, there have been a lot of changes. Neither of us are as young as we were back then. Of course, time goes by. Feeling changes, fears arise, and health issues occur, but love is always love.

The young man in St. Joe, Missouri who would wear short sleeves when the temperature hit fifty degrees at winter’s end must now wear a sweater when it’s sixty. Late nights now end around nine o’clock. Ten if I’m pushing. Still, my mind is full of the greatest memories of my past. My grandchildren are growing up fast. My hair is getting grayer.

I would not change a moment of memories. The bad and good are part of me. I have no fear of the future. All will be well in God’s universe. Just keep warm. All the best!

And Now for Something Completely Different

Before I jump into today’s zaniness, I want to let you know that my issue with COVID is over. Today, I tested negative. My doctor finally prescribed a Z-Pack for me last Wednesday. I took that final dose last night, and now I am free. Perhaps this happy occurrence led me to today’s topic, which in you haven’t guessed already is:

Monty Python’s Flying Circus

If you are familiar with this crazy comedy group from the UK (and one American) first aired in the US in 1974. I was a sophomore at the University of Iowa then. College was also intense. I believe I took a calculus class that year. The professor was very intelligent and yet I struggled to understand his accent. My father was still stationed in Africa and about to move to the Philippines for his next assignment. My brother was in college in Texas, so I was alone. Of course, I loved to party with the guys though, so please do not feel badly for me.

I cannot remember which episodes aired first but I was instantly hooked. They were so irreverent! They made fun of the British government. They made fun of everyone. I do not think Americans had ever seen anything so audacious in their lives. As an Air Force brat, I certainly had not. At that time, the performers were not much older than I.

Every episode was so different and “foreign”. Flashes of nudity seemed unbelievable to me, considering the stodgy censors then monitoring US television. I was amazed how the performers could be so deadpan when discussing the silliest things. A few examples:

The Cheese Sketch– This one was one of my favorites. John Cleese trying to buy cheese from store-owner Eric Idle. At the end, the cheese shop had no cheese, so Cleese shoots Idle, ending the segment with the words, “Such a senseless waste of human life.”

The Dead Parrot Sketch– Cleese enters a pet shop with a birdcage and a dead parrot. The shopkeeper, Michael Palin, welcomes him. Cleese explains that the bird he just bought is dead. Palin says the bird is just sleeping. Then it gets crazy with Cleese screaming into the parrot’s ear and thumping the dead bird on the counter.

The Spanish Inquisition Sketch– There were a few of these. Three robed inquisition cardinals have captured an older women, who is supposed to confess her sins. She won’t, so they bring in the “soft cushions” and begin touching her with them. Palin, the lead cardinal, says, “Obviously, she is made of sterner stuff.” Then they drag in the “Comfy Chair.” She is forced to sit on the chair, which pleases her. It is comfy after all.

There are so many great sketches, like the Spam Sketch and the Montgolfier Sketch to name a couple. By the end of the run, it was time to watch reruns, until:

The movies came out. The Holy Grail, Life of Brian, and the Meaning of Life. At the time, Life of Brian infuriated American clergy as anti-Christian. To be clear, Brian wasn’t Jesus. To this day, I still treasure those programs and watch them again any time I can.

If you were wondering where my sense of humor comes from, well, now you know.

What Really Matters

When I began writing my most recent story, I remembered a feeling I had as a young boy. I believed that if I could turn my head quickly enough, I would see those on the other side. I could always feel them around me but was never able to turn my head fast enough. A person ages and often those childhood memories fade away. We go to school and our brains are filled with new knowledge, we meet new kids in our classes who become dear friends. In my case, my father was an Air Force pilot, so every three or four years, we would move. Then I would have to meet new people, go to a new school, learn ever more stuff, and eventually grow up.

To make matters more complex, my family life was not good. My brother had little time for his younger brother. My dad was a pilot and often away (three tours in Vietnam). My mother had mental health issues that plagued her whole married life. She passed away a few days before my high school graduation.

The longest period of stability I recall was my time at the University of Iowa– four whole years. Even then, I spent the summers before my freshman and sophomore years in Ethiopia, where my father worked with the US Embassy. After college, I spent a few years in the Midwest working, until I had the chance to move to Southern California. I have been here more than forty years. What a relief!

Even then, I was focused on my jobs which required me to travel to different states and countries. The travel was great, except the endless hours in coach class. I do not like air travel, although it is not possible to travel to Europe, South America, or Australia any other way. I always said I hate air travel, but love the places I have been.

I think my change of heart occurred when I lost my job with one of America’s largest corporations. They had acquired a company I worked for. Being a huge enterprise, the C-Level executives thought they knew everything, and they are smart people. But nobody knows everything. So they began to ruin their acquisition. Their first step was to eliminate most of the senior management team, including me.

That time off led me to writing. I was quite prolific in those days, cranking out three books a year. After a few books, I noticed common themes in my stories. The good guys always win, and the element of faith is always present. Looking back over my books, I found at least half had very strong connections to God. While I was writing, I do not think I even considered that. But there it was.

In the blink of an eye, I was that young boy again. Confident that I was connected to the other side. As I age, I realize “the other side” is God, His Son, and His Angels. I am supremely grateful that my connection to what truly matters remains strong and grows stronger every day.

Too Much Going On!!!

I fondly remember the retirement celebration my RRBC friends held for me. I recall at the time I was concerned my days would be empty. That never happened. One member, I can’t recall who, said that after six months, I would wonder how I ever had time for a day job. For me, that occurred within days. Now that I have my new dog, I have even less free time. I view that as a very good thing. As the old saying goes, “Idle hands are the Devil’s workshop.” No idle hands here!

Two days ago, I opined about the fickleness of our fates. Well, as should have been expected, I am now being asked by some friends from a former employer to help them figure out what is going on at their new company. The two, father and son, are very good friends and so I eagerly volunteered (They will pay for my time.). Yesterday, I spent two hours on the phone (one hour with each) going over the next steps. The situation is dire, as they chose to give most authority to a man whose aspirations are bigger than all outdoors. While the owner is a wealthy guy, the new company is bleeding them dry.

This weekend, things are calm. My friends have meetings with others on Monday and Tuesday, hoping to find some kind of acceptable solution. I have also been asked to do a deep dive on the current spending habits. Being a finance guy (corporate accountant my entire career), the calculations are not a problem, although obtaining meaningful and specific information has to date been troublesome.

Yesterday, I mentioned the impasse I currently have with my muse. Between this new gig and arm-wrestling the muse, it promises to be a challenging period. The father, owner of the old and new companies, and I have had some tough conversations. He knows the risks and losses he continues to suffer. I think there is a strong possibility for a great outcome. It’s been a few months since I scoured legal contracts, but it seems I may be doing that again very soon. But do not worry, these folks have their own attorneys too.

Please do not get me wrong. I relish the opportunity to learn the issues and discover possible solutions.

As we all know, life gives us challenges of all kinds. We can either cower and hide under the sheets, or we can face it head on. Here, lots of money is on the line (thankfully not mine). To me, the measure of a person is what they are willing to do for their friends and family. After all, what else really matters?

So, don’t cry for me Argentina. The future is always filled with paths to success that gladly show themselves if we but ask.

Wrestling with my Muse

My relationship with my muse is interesting to say the least. I remember the images of old of the wise spirit that speaks gently into the writer’s ear to offer ideas and snippets of prose. For a long time, I thought my muse did exactly that. Now, I know better.

My muse and I are engaged in a battle of wits and overcome by bouts of emotion and downright antipathy. She speaks to me at night or in my dreams and lays out a chapter or at least some guidelines for where my story should go next. When I hit the keyboard, I am refreshed and confident of the words I will write today. As I conclude my writing session, I feel great about my accomplishment, and am eager for the following day.

The next night, my muse is either totally quiet, or slightly clucking her tongue in disappointment at what I have done. I wake up in zombie-land, with no clear idea how to proceed, or whether I just chuck the whole thing into the recycle bin. While I have never deleted a work-in-process, I have left old fragments of stories on my hard drive, gradually fading from my mind.

Perhaps months later, I may reopen one and say, “That wasn’t so bad. I bet I could fix this up in no time.” I almost never do that. The next plot pops into my head and off I go on a totally different tangent.

Still, I worry about those unspoken words from the characters that may never see the completion of their tale, or have the opportunity for others to meet them. Every year, I promise to open some of those stories and try to “fix them up.”

In a way, it is very sad. As I write, that character is real. Weeks or months later, it seems as though that character will never see the fruition of their life’s work. A character born of the ether, condemned back into oblivion. I remind myself that the story did not work, or had spun out of control to the extent that I did not know what to write next. Eventually, the writer moves on, knowing that the next opus can become a great success.

I suppose that is every author’s dream. Giving life to characters who can change the world, make happy lives, or conquer unknown galaxies.

In the end, it is the stories we publish that can live on beyond ourselves. The rest are the failed aspirations of a writer and his oftentimes quarrelsome muse.