"You gotta know when to fold them..."

One would think that after I have clocked in/out as many days as I have in my lifetime that I would have learned to just say "No"...I would have learned to say, "Nope, I've had enough....and even after a lifetime of drinking and then remaining sober for over 20 years, one would have thought I would have learned my lesson and that I guess I just have an addictive personality and just have to know "when to fold them"....Don't despair tho, the outcome of this story is kinda outrageously funny.

I finally after all of these years had an opportunity to do something I have coveted most of my entire life, well at least for as long as it has been popular....yep, "To Sing Karaoke!!!!" Now I know you naysayers are already moving on from this story but hang in there, there is a lesson to be learned.

One of the places I have been checking out to relocate to if and when my house sells is a community for "55 and over". No, it's not a Senior Home., No, it's not an Assisted Living residence, it is simply a wonderful place where most of the residents have made the decision to scale down and enjoy life by turning over the responsibilities of maintaining a household over to someone else. The places I have visited are full of people many of them younger than me who have decided they just don't want to mow the lawn anymore, don't want to paint the house anymore and just want to spend the rest of their lives having fun and being around people with similar interests, including KARAOKE.

The barons of residential living have discovered that marketing these communities to people who are still viable and fun-loving can be a gold mine and they go all out making the transition a wonderful experience.

So, back to the scene of the crime. I'm on the mailing list for receiving daily notices of activities at this particular location. And last night was the long awaited time to finally have a chance to join the millions, or maybe just the thousands of people who have sang solo in front of an audience, albeit with a projector displaying the words and a sound track keeping you in tune.

 The event started at 5:00 pm because it was a combination dinner/theater get together .I had contacted a Facebook friend, Kate Cashman,  earlier in the day that I was aware of that has spent years singing at such a venue. Her advice was to have a back up song or two or three and most of all to have fun.

Upon entering, there is a catalog of songs probably thousands to choose from. Since it was the holiday season I decided to go with "White Christmas" , but another song I spotted immediately was "Shallow" , a song popular today from the movie "A Star is Born" and one I have been learning on the piano.

I was the first one to showcase their skills and I immediately knew I was where I was supposed to be when I was handed the microphone. The music started and I began pitch perfect, at least in my mind, as I "worked the floor" (that's show business talk) and made eye contact with people in the audience. I was loving the moment until some lady decided she wanted to finish the song beside me and kind of stole my thunder. 

I had a raucous reply from the audience and sat back down with my friend who I had invited to provide me support, Monica Evans,  as we planned our get away knowing anyone after me would be marginal at best.

And then it happened....I wanted more....that addictive personality kicked in as I drank from that "bottle of  recognition".... I should have stopped then, signed a few autographs and left feeling on top of the world. Nope, I didn't "know when to fold them"... I thought, maybe one more song.

This time I took the microphone, had a little banter with the audience, told them "I'd be in town all week", thank goodness I didn't ask if anyone was from out of state. I told the over 55 group of people that "Shallow" was a popular song from a recent movie sung by Bradley Cooper and Lady Gaga and I could see people mouthing the words "did he say Gaga?"...and then I said to the DJ "hit it" like I was a seasoned performer.

I felt like I did a pretty good job which was confirmed by Monica but the applause was only half of my first performance. I think they just didn't know what the heck the song was.

And so it was,  just another lesson in my newest Journey.

 Be aware of your surroundings, enjoy what you have and don't be greedy, and most of all....just have fun.

Peace

Shame on me....."Box step Tommy"

It was just a week or two ago when I wrote a story about pleading with people to live their lives to the fullest and quit playing the piano in "Middle C".  I suggested to get out and enjoy new things, try something different than just the "missionary position" of Life..

So what's happened since then, you ask? Well, for starters I'm now calling myself  "Box-step Tommy" . Sure laugh if you want to, but it's a plight I am trying to overcome.

As many of you know I have been dancing twice a week at the Senior Centers both in Richardson and Plano. I've met some wonderful people there who in addition to enjoying dancing, they are enjoying life and squeezing every ounce out of each day and night. Many of us have experienced the same losses in one way or another and we are determined to not let a day go by that we don't create new memories in our Journey.

In addition to dancing twice a week, I  also take a group dance lesson on Friday afternoons. The first one I took several weeks ago conflicted with the weekly pool tournament that starts on time at 1:00 at the Richardson Center that I participated in and the lessons start at 2:00 pm

Here I was, just going into the winners bracket final game and I had to forfeit in order to go into the adjoining room for my dance lesson. I did get a few scofflaws from the guys in the tournament when I had to turn in my cue and go to the lesson but I'll ask the men reading this, "would you rather shoot pool with a bunch of guys and talk guy stuff or dance with lovely ladies to ballroom music?". If you don't want to answer publicly, send me a message.

So anyway, I admit I'm learning many steps and several different dances including, the waltz , foxtrot and more. And my faithful dance partner, Monica Evans, who is a wonderful dancer, puts up with my clumsiness and continues to encourage me with "you've got great rhythm, you just need to learn the steps".

I think the same thing is happening that has happened most of my life in that I tend to rely on my smile and charm to get me through difficult situations rather than stepping up to the plate and getting the job done. Maybe that smile is starting to turn upside down and that charm is wearing thin.

Or maybe I'm just getting frustrated. It seems like every time I learn a new step, then I have to learn a new one and a new one and a new one. I just want to scream, "I WANT TO JUST BOX STEP". I just want to be "Box step Tommy" and sit out the more difficult dances and not learn how to "waltz across Texas".....

HOLD ON....What was I thinking. I'm not a "Box Step Tommy" kind of guy. I want to compliment my dance partner. I want to have people ooh and aah as I spin and twirl and do the "conversation step". Heck yeah, I'm a winner and I won't take second place. I'll learn these new steps by gosh and enjoy myself as I do. The one thing I have learned is the most important thing is to have fun and if you can learn new things while having fun, well then that puts icing on the cake.

Alright, I feel better already. Time to get to Youtube and watch and then practice, practice and practice and occasionally give you an update.

Peace

Life is more than simply playing the piano in "Middle C".....

Hang in there with me as I explain my opening title.

If you have ever played the piano then you know what I am talking about and I'm certainly not trying to show off by acting like I know all of these piano "words" (actually I kinda am) even though I've only been taking lessons for about 5 months. But I've realized the piano and my taking lessons has become the perfect metaphor for describing my new Journey.

During my weekly lessons, I sometimes interrupt my wonderful, patient teacher, Amy Munro, and ask questions that race into my mind while I am trying to stay focused, specifically about the piano and generally about music.

 I've recently broadened my range of two octaves and 5 notes, located in the middle part of the piano keyboard, ergo Middle C, to yet another octave as well as two more keys, A and B, in addition to now sharps and flats.

We talked briefly about how the piano encompasses so many different combinations of sounds and to me it seemed like the ultimate in a musical instrument since the permutation of so many different sounds could be achieved.... 88 keys X two hands  X playing two or three of four notes at a time equals, well more than my head brain could compute.

And then she added that there are so many more instruments that exude wonderful tones and sounds some of which many of us have never heard before.

Music is like the alphabet. We have only 26 letters in the English language

but we are able to take those letters and create words, from which we create sentences, from which we create paragraphs and then stories. Notes by themselves are simply notes, but when we string them together we eventually have a melody and then finally a song. All of the stories have not been written nor have all of the songs been sung.They are waiting for you to add yours to the collection.

This caused me to realize how important it is to get out of "Middle C" and experience the entire Keyboard of Life. Sure, you can play most melodies in your safe haven, sing any song in your range, even watch TV  where your 4 or 5 channels are located and not travel through the other 200 channels. But expand your horizons. See what is around the corner. See if you can hit that high note when you are singing in the shower. And learn to play more octaves, more chords, more keys.

You can dance all night long simply doing the box step or swaying to and fro, but occasionally spin your partner around, glide across the floor as you keep beat to the music and what the heck, throw in a little free-style when you want to. Learn to play more notes, sing more songs and dance whenever you feel the need.

You don't need a piano to learn music. My niece's husband, Eugene Taylor, learned to play the harmonica while waiting in traffic. If you can simply breath you can play a harmonica.Maybe it's just a note at a time. Or a step at a time. But please, life is worth living.

I'll send you a harmonica if you promise to play it. I'll write you a story if you promise to write one yourself. And I'll sing you a song if you promise to dance to it.

Enjoy life, it's the only one we have.

Peace

OK, Fine. I finally admit it that I don't know everything...

I'm going to let some of you gloat over the fact that you finally have found something that you know more about than I do. But in reality, I've never claimed that I know more things than all of you, it's just that well, I kinda give the impressions that I do.........or hmmm, maybe I do know more......regardless, go ahead and have at me.

All of this refers to something I saw the other day out at the Frisco Mall just north of town.

Now let me first mention this, and as they say in Texas "It ain't braggin,  Maam, if it's fact".

You're talkin' to a guy who is pretty sharp when it comes to high tech stuff. I've been buildin' all kinds of electronic things for a number of years. I built my first couple of computers. I can fix anything electrical or mechanical in a home. Heck, at one time I was even braggin' that I was gonna do my own head-brain lobotomy until someone talked me out of it.

Anyway, back to what happened.....And I was just tryin' to kind of put my credentials out there, but ok, I concede to what happened the other day because it simply had me starin' with my jaw opened up and in a daze you coulda' knocked me over with a feather.. So, even as smart as I am, some of you are gonna be smarter than me when I tell you what I saw.

I parked my car and headed up to the main entry doors and as I got closer to the entry way and all of the parking spots came to an end, I see these, well, I see these thingys that kinda look like fuel pumps but they have a long electrical cord comin' out of the side of them. I get closer and practically get run over since I'm standing in the roadway and I'm starin' and starin' and for the life of me, I had no idea what they were and then suddenly it hits me, "OMG, THEY ARE CHARGING STATIONS FOR ELECTRIC CARS!!!"

I actually said aloud, "You gotta be sh**en me."

A security guard walks over and greets me. He looks like he is barely out of high school and just smilin' away. He sees the look on my face as he has probably done many times before when people my age get their first glimpse of the future. He says, "Pretty impressive, huh. Free fuel for your electric car".

OK, go ahead and gloat, those of you who have seen these and God forbid if I know any of you who actually have an electric car, but I have to admit, "Yes, I'm kinda impressed"

Now realize, I cut my eye teeth as a young man working in the Oilfield business. I spent several years out in West Texas selling oilfield equipment and chasing every rig from Sonora, Texas all of the way up to Hobbs, New Mexico. I made my living, a substantial living I might add, and then later came to Dallas in the late 70s when Oil was King, and I was a Prince. But then in the 80s, the bottom fell out and most of us became paupers.

So, I have had an affinity to the Oilfield Industry. It has kept the world's lamps lit for over a century. It's moved automobiles from one side of the continent to the other and despite all of the negatives, it made this country a better place.

But, I guess "time marches on"

I'm certainly not against electric cars. They make a lot of sense although, there is still a lot of research that is needed such as storage and overall cost. I guess if you had a long enough extension cord, though you wouldn't have to worry about that.

So, here I am at 71 and willing to admit that maybe I just have not been paying attention and some technology has slipped by me.

And in fact, it actually was kind of fun and enjoyable to see something new and exciting.  Maybe I just don't get out often enough as I should or perhaps I'm not looking around enough and there are many new things that I just haven't noticed.

Regardless, I admit some of you have something on me now, but this day too shall pass.

So "hello future", I'll be catchin' up with you soon.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the story and as always,  (and you can quit gloating now)

Peace

"Some Corner of a Foreign Field that is For Ever England."

"You are only 18 years old. The home that you grew up in is now in ruins as a result of enemy bombs being dropped from airplanes belonging to a nation determined to crush your country.

Family members and friends have died in this horrible act of war. And now you have been asked to leave your birthplace to fight for your country against this aggressor. Of course you are willing and are ready to take up arms, but your calling will first take you to a distant land. A land some 5,000 miles away for your training. Away from your surviving family members. Away from your surviving friends.

You will first go to America and the possibility exists that you might never return home again."



This story certainly didn't sound familiar to me, even though I knew a lot of the history of World War II. I knew that England had first been bombed in 1940, a year before the United States entered into an Alliance to defeat Germany. But, English servicemen coming to the United States to train?  I had never heard that story. And not only coming here to within 50 miles of my home in Dallas, but 24 of them died while here in training and 20 of these brave souls were buried in a small private cemetery in Terrell, Texas.


I had the privilege and honor to learn this story of these cadets from the Royal Air Force (RAF) that found themselves in a small Texas town when I was invited by a new, dear friend to visit the No. 1 British Flying Training School Museum and the cemetery where they are buried over the recent Veterans Day weekend.


The day chosen by the British Commonwealth to honor their fallen heroes falls on the same day that America celebrates the lives of all of the  men and women who served their country. The reason being is that both days, Remembrance Day for the British and Veterans Day for the United States both evolved out of what was originally known as Armistice Day.

During World War II, many Western countries and associated nations changed the name of the holiday accordingly to commemorate the end of World War II in Europe. Member states of the Commonwealth of Nations adopted Remembrance Day, while the United States government opted for Veterans Day.

Thousand of British pilots learned to fly at six civilian training schools in the United States. The first of these schools was in Terrell, Texas. After the United States entered the war, American Aviation Cadets also trained at the school.

Our day in Terrell began with a visit to the Oakland Cemetery. The following description is from an information brochure made available to the visitors:

Members of a RAF unit assigned to Greenville, Texas
participated in the ceremony honoring RAF Cadets from World
War II

  

A simple sundial and a flagpole flying the RAF ensign perpetually at half-staff marks a peaceful hedgerowed plot in Terrell's historic Oakland Cemetery, which holds the graves of 20 British Royal Air Force pilots killed in various training mishaps while attending the British Flying School #1 in Terrell, Texas, during WWII.

The sundial historic memorial marker reads as follows:

"This ground dedicated to the Royal Air Force by the Oakland Memorial Park Association and cared for by the War Relief Society

"Some Corner of a Foreign Field that is For Ever England." 

A new, dear friend, Monica Evans
invited me to a tribute to honor
RAF Cadets buried on American soil.

Invocations, Meditations and Scriptures were read. The flag was lowered to half staff and a placing of a wreath by a surviving cadet, Flt Lt. Robert F. Reynolds, RAF (Ret), doing the honors assisted by members of a RAF Unit assigned to nearby Greenville, Texas.

Tears welled up in my eyes as well as most in attendance as I surveyed the immaculately groomed graves that marked the final resting place of the ever so young men. It truly was humbling to think of how courageous and brave they were to shoulder this responsibility only to have their lives cut short before allowing them to fulfill their dreams of protecting their country.

As the cemetery observance came to an end, and we headed to the Museum that houses hundreds of memorabilia of those years of training, it reminded me of friends I had lost to the Vietnam War and how my time in service was spent.

Whether it be Remembrance Day or Veterans Day, our two great countries, the United States and Great Britain came together to defeat a tyrant. And, sadly, thousands and thousand of young lives were lost trying to protect our way of life.

Flt Lt Robert F Reynolds, RAF (Ret)
a survivor of World War II laid a wreath
as the base of the monument.

It will be a Veterans Day weekend I will always cherish and a tribute that I hope I will have a chance to witness again. And, oh yes, another group of friends that I can now add to my life as I continue on my new Journey. Wonderful British men and women who now call America their home along with the young 20 cadets who remain with us now and forever.

Peace

For more information about the British Flying Training School and the joint effort that Americans and the British and the  sacrifices made during world War II you can visit their website at https://www.bftsmuseum.org/

That aura of happiness that I have always wanted and wondered about....

Years and years ago when I was actively involved in the Episcopal Church activities and spent time around people who were certainly holier than I, I would see this constant aura about their face almost like a permanent smile. It was so obvious to me but when I would mention it to my friends, they either thought I was just funnin' with them or maybe I was just acting my oddball self.

I would even ask these individuals what brought them such happiness. They would shrug their shoulders and they too acted like they didn't know what I was talking about. But the glow was there. I saw it. I felt it.

Eons have since gone by from the time when I participated in the Church to today when I am now beginning to now offer more of my services to my new found spiritual family. And once again, I begin to see that aura around certain individuals and it's something I want.

I don't feel like I haven't been approachable most of my life. I usually have a smile on my face. I try to offer assistance when needed and though I can work up a pretty good scowl when I get pissed, for the most part I'm a good guy. But it seems like I am always the one making the effort to help, which I love doing don't mistake me, but sometimes I wonder if people are afraid to ask for my help.

Maybe it has become society as a whole...a distrust for strangers, fear for our safety...too much time spent with our noses in our devices and not enough time with people that we have forgotten to talk with each other.

Today, that changed for me.....and of course, I just wanted to come home and write about it...something I am finding I am doing almost every day now.

I was coming out of the Richardson "Y" after a short period of time on the stationary bicycle. I actually had been headed to the Senior Center to shoot a little pool, (ahh, the retired life) and they were closed as they prepared for the Christmas bazaar so I headed to the Y.....

Geesh...I'm sorry for drifting away... it's been diagnosed as OFADD...Old Fart Attention Deficit Syndrome.....anyway, back on track.

So anyway, as I was leaving the Y a  much older Hispanic couple pulled up to me and rolled down their window and I was delighted I was going to be able to help without me first approaching them as I always seem to do when I see someone in distress or needing help.

 After 50 years of living in Texas and Oklahoma I have to admit my Spanglish is pretty darn good, but dang, I was having a really difficult time trying to communicate with this beautiful couple. I even checked to make sure they were speaking Spanish and perhaps I had mistaken them for another nationality....  Anyway after broken sentences we were on the same page but for the life of me I just couldn't figure out their need. I was all set to run back into the Y and see if anyone spoke Spanish but I persevered. And then the key words came out..."Book"...."Central Book"....I thought for a second and then realized the Richardson Library was only a few blocks away and I shouted "LIBRARY"...and their eyes lit up.

We didn't solve any International Crisis, but it was just friend helping friend. I started to tell them it was only a few blocks away but then I thought, "nope, I'll have them follow me"...they did...they got to the "Central Book" and I raced home to share the story.

Folks, I don't know what's happening to me, but I'm thankful that complete strangers can find me approachable in a time when the world is full of hate and for some reason we have a distaste for people who are different than us. Maybe I'm not a scary old white man after all. And maybe I might now have that aura.

Peace

Your attitude is what makes life exciting....

I promise not to keep you long, and even if I do lose you on this post, just know that you will always be able to find me here and I'm always happy to just hang out with you. Now that my eyes are focused and my mind is clear, I feel like I am digging really deep into my soul and I hope I am helping some of you find your way. I know now this has always been my destiny and I am taking every waking moment to teach and help others through my writings....

That all being said, let's see how this will play out.

As some of you know, I started taking piano lessons almost five months ago. It was a passion when I started and it continues to be the same today. But something changed today and I wanted to share it with you.

Any of you who have taken any kind of training whether it be musical or crafts or singing, virtually anything requiring an instructor to teach you, and I guess that probably includes all of us, then you know how sometimes it can be a struggle. Learning the correct fingering for the piano keys, learning the correct route to run as a wide receiver. Learning how to take the perfect photograph.

Sometimes the lessons are hard, sometimes they are harder than hard and sometimes, well, we just seem to breeze through them. But it's not the lessons that are difficult or easy, it's our attitude as we approach the task.

Why is it that we make our lives so difficult by just not having the right positive attitude.

If your kids have played sports, team sports specifically, have you ever noticed how the coach will get the entire team on the same page, chanting and rocking back and forth until the team is in a frenzy and screaming waiting to get onto the field of play.

Or how about a tennis player who will have that loud discernible talk with themselves after they scored a winning point or possibly lost a point.

The illustrations are numerous, hundreds for each sporting and non-sporting event in our lives.

But what about about daily chores or even something as simple as a piano lesson?

Today, I went in all fired up. Wanting to learn. Wanting to please myself. Wanting to please my teacher. Wanting to be a real pianist. And you know what happened? I played better than I have played during these long arduous months. The time flew by. I wanted more and more and more.

But the lesson didn't get easier today. It was just as difficult as last weeks and the week before. But my attitude was so powerful. I came home and immediately practiced and then I thought, "I need to share this with all of you." I needed to tell you that the answers to all of your problems are right before you.

Open your minds. Clear out the cobwebs. Regain your spiritual lives. Life is the greatest gift we have ever been given and I beg you to finds those embers that are still in your soul and bring them out into your heart and get that fire a burnin' before it's too late. Don't let a traumatic event be the catalyst to change your outlook. You're much too smart and too wonderful of a person to let life pass you by.

As always, I offer you peace and now I offer you hope as well.

And Faith.

Maybe all that was needed was just one more simple, little prayer...

I woke up this morning feeling terrific for the first time in almost 5 days. Now that's hard to believe coming from someone who just never gets sick. I mean I have never missed one day of work my entire life from being sick. Have never been in the hospital overnight. And even after a couple of day surgeries, my day continued as usual, well except for that one "male-type" surgery that left me walking kind of gingerly, but other than that I have been really healthy. Until this past week..and then dang, I was down for the count.

And then today ...I feel great!.. Wow, I can't wait to get to the Senior Center for the weekly dance tonight and strut my stuff. It's a new event in my Journey that has become an important part of the week. I love to dance, I love live bands and I love to be around people who cherish the days they have left and want to go dancin'.

Ooops, sorry my head is racing, I have so many things to say.

But back to today, or this morning rather. I was wondering what the heck happened from the time I went to bed last night and when I woke up at around 4 a.m. I had been doing the same thing each day as prescribed by my doctor. Allegra, Flo-sane, Advil, Vick's  (I've always loved Vicks and when I wasn't feeling well when I was a kid and my mom would smear it all over my chest. )

Oops, sorry off subject again there for a second.

So, I decided to walk Cooper, something I hadn't done all week and  then it came into my head and heart. I had people praying for me and just like that, I was better.

 "But wait", I thought, some of them had been praying all week. (I have a pretty good friend list with some people who pray for me everyday) So maybe that was actually what I maybe needed. Maybe, all I needed was just one more prayer, either from a friend or heck for that matter, myself. Maybe just one more little simple prayer could have had me back on my feet on Tuesday.

That is, if you believe in prayer. And I do now.

Now even though I don't have a clue on how prayers get counted up in Heaven's Accounting Office, I think it would be pretty safe to assume that the more prayers coming in asking for God to intercede in an event, well then that person, or that prayer subject gets moved to the head of the line. So just suppose, that here I am down on Earth, feeling crummy from allergys, and I have these people praying for me but I just can't quite get to the finish line. I just fall short because someone who maybe said they would pray for me, well maybe, they forgot. Or maybe it was me, maybe I forgot to say my prayers for the day. Hey, it could happen.

I find it's something to consider. So much, that I think I might just throw in one little extra thought or prayer for someone or myself, maybe just enough to get God's attention. Maybe we just have to treat prayer like so ,many other things in our lives. If we want to have success, the we have to work for it. And maybe when we pray, we might just have to make the little extra effort.

Anyway, I feel great. I' goin' dancin' tonight and I'm gonna say an extra prayer right now for all of you people who have been praying for me. It might take me awhile to get the scale balanced but I'm on it as we speak.

Peace

The Importance of Friends...

We all need friends. Period.

Oh, you may have tried to convince yourself that, "Oh, I'm okay. I don't need a friend.",  particularly if you've happened to have recently lost a  spouse, or close family member or even a furry-buddy and you just want to sit at home and stare at the TV all day wrapped in your loneliness blanket . But you still need friends.

Scientific studies have shown that friends are important. So important, in fact, that it's been proven that friendship can extend life expectancy. Friendship fuels the part of the brain that makes us feel good, which makes us want to keep being among our friends.

 But you know what's even better than a friend? A best friend. That's the one who will sit and talk with you for hours. They give you advice and help you make choices and they never judge you. I used to think that if you had something that was "the best", well, then there could only be just one. That's not true, particularly when it comes to friends. You can have a bunch of best friends.

Growing up in Dayton, Ohio, I had several best friends. Eddie, The Jer, Bobby, Ernie, John and several more. Sometimes we did things as a group. Sometimes we did things individually with each other. But there was never any judging or criticizing. We were simply best friends.

As I moved into high school, some of those best friends, went their own way for one reason or another, yet I still continued to grow my family of best friends. And then of course,  a whole new group of best friends suddenly appeared, those of the opposite sex. And believe me, I ain't stupid enough to list them by name and risk leaving one out and I certainly don't want to start a dang cat fight. Let's just leave it at all best friends for now.

Shooting pool with an old best friend
 and some new best friends

After high school came college and I still maintain a closeness with fraternity brothers who as a group we witnessed each others growth when we truly became men. And fortunately through Social Media we continue to express that Bond particularly during football season.

And then marriage. If you're fortunate enough to marry your best friend, or if your partner becomes your best friend afterwards, well then you have it all.......that is until something goes awry and you're no longer best friends. Heck if a divorce happens, you're gonna be lucky if you can even be in the same room together. And then there is the inevitable permanent loss of your spouse/best friend. And I got news for you, it's gonna happen. We are all going to go at some point, that's why I said inevitable.

And that brings me to now. To the present. I've had a chance to make new best friends. I've had a chance to do things that I had forgotten about over the years with old friends from the past. I'm doing new things with friends that I am just now meeting. My group of new best friends continues to expand each day.

I've had the chance to see old best friends from 50 years ago and do things I had never dreamed would happen and meet new best friends who have reminded me of simple things that at one time brought me a lot of fun. Simple things like shooting pool, something that Eddie (we used to call him Fast Eddie from the character in the move "The Hustler") and I used to do on a daily basis at Northtown Mall when we were young.

"The strong bond of friendship is not always a balanced equation; friendship is not always about giving and taking in equal shares. Instead, friendship is grounded in a feeling that you know exactly who will be there for you when you need something, no matter what or when."

I could never had made it this far without my best friends, both old and new, and I hope that I return that sentiment when they think of me.

Peace

 

When God lets bad things happen....

As some of you who follow my blog or postings on Facebook know, I was having a few conversations with God while I was down at the beach at South Padre Island a year and a half ago. He and I discussed how I was beginning to see how wonderful His creations were and we were just kinda talkin' like a couple of grown-ups.

Well today, I had another one of those discussions that I wanted to share with all of you. Not so much about the beauty of His creations but something that had just happened here at home. I had been in one of the most beautiful places in the country, Hilton Head Island, enjoying the time with friends and thanking God for the chance to do so. And, then I read on Monday morning where several tornadoes had touched down in Dallas and Richardson. I saw the horrible destruction first hand when I returned on Wednesday, that had taken place while out trying to help some people and I figured, He and I needed to have a talk. So here is how it went.

Me: Hey God, I know I haven't really talked to you too much lately but I think about you a lot these days.

God: Hi Tommy. Yes, I know you do, but I miss the chats we used to have when you were at the beach.

Me: Yeah me too. And I want to thank you for everything you have given me in the last 7 months. In some ways, I find I am happier than I have ever been given the circumstances, but I am truly at peace now and I feel my heart is pure.

God: Tommy, you've worked hard and your friends have been there to support you along the way. But that's not why you called is it? What's bothering you today?

Me: Well Dude (He doesn't mind me calling Him that as long as I use a capital D and He knows I kinda do it sometimes to make my audience smile)...Dude, why all of this horrible destruction that You sent to Dallas, are You pissed at us or something?

God: Tommy, I'm asked that question over and over every time something horrible happens. And I'll be happy to help you in this struggle. You see, you are new to all of this and you are simply living in the present. You have to learn to have Faith and look towards the future.

Me: Well, dang right I am livin' in the present and hundreds and hundreds of people are hurting just because you sent a horrible storm.

God: Tommy, I didn't send the storm and the tornadoes. This is all part of the world and these things occur on their own. Yes, if you look around you will see only misery, but didn't you just say you were helping some people also?

Me: I did and I intend to help many more. But they didn't do anything wrong. I want to believe but You just make it so difficult.

God: Tommy, my purpose and now as you have found, this is your purpose, is to help others. For years now, you have asked me over and over, "What is my purpose?"  Well, now you are finding out. Things will happen in your world that you won't understand, but you have to have Faith and know in your heart that good will come out of this. The pain will be lifted. The suffering will stop. And like you, so many will be restored in Faith.

Me: I guess I kinda understand but I feel so sorry for them.

God: Tommy, you should feel sorry for them. Remember the pain you felt 7 months ago and cursed me for taking Pattye from you. You hated me and wanted nothing to do with me. Now look at you. You have become a better person. You no longer question Me or your Faith. And most importantly you are now helping others and also telling them where they can go to ease their pain, that being Me.

Me: I guess You are right. No, I know you are right. If I simply look at the present and see only destruction then of course I am confused, but knowing that all of us will be closer to You and closer to each other, well then, if it must be, then it must be.

God: See Tommy, you're learning. And quite well I might add.

Me: Okay Buddy. I guess all I needed was to have this little talk with you and I would have understood. Dang, you sure are smart. I'm going to sign up to offer assistance to help people needing my skills to help get them back on their feet and their homes and businesses back in order.

God: Bingo! (God really didn't say Bingo, I just kinda added that). You are on your way.

Me: Okay. Thanks again, and don't be such a stranger.

God: Tommy don't you be such a stranger.

And so it went. I know people out there are suffering. Just pray to God, have Faith and things will be better in the end. I promise you.

Peace

That seedy, ugly, sordid word that sadly haunts every home..

For some reason we find comfort in knowing that we are not alone when we are plagued with sadness and we find that others suffer the same misfortune.  But, instead of wanting to correct our problem and situation, we find comfort and justification when we tell ourselves, "Well, my problem isn't as bad as theirs", or we bury the problem so deep that in our minds it no longer exists.

True, I can only speak for myself, but it seems that every time I use the "word" and I will give it to you in the next paragraph, and offer my story, I find listeners willingly begin to open up and tell their secret as well. They want to cleanse their soul and tell their side of the story.

The word is simply called "Estrangement".

Family estrangement (or, simply, estrangement) is the loss of a previously existing relationship between family members, through physical and/or emotional distancing, often to the extent that there is little or no communication between the individuals involved for a prolonged period.

It never fails, that when I disclose to people what haunts me, which I don't intend to disclose at this time by the way, they begin to share.

We all hurt. It crosses all faiths, all religions, all families. Rich, poor, spiritual, educated, ignorant. White, black, brown. European, Asian or South American. Someone who was important in our lives at one time is now lost.

Brother to brother. Sister to sister. Brother to sister. Sister to brother. Father to daughter. Son to mother. It's there. Most often hidden, but if you turn over enough stones you will find that dirty little secret that families are estranged.

Several years ago a close friend was estranged from his children. The reason is not important. But what was important is the fact there was no contact.

After he was diagnosed with cancer and with little time left, his spouse made an effort to contact his children and try and reconcile as her husband lay on his deathbed. Yes, they showed up. Yes, they forgave each other. And yes, he died with somewhat of a less than broken-heart. But it maybe didn't have to be that way.

Recently, I found myself in a city I had never been in before while changing planes to get to my ultimate destination. It happened to be in a city where someone dear to me and where someone I have thought of everyday of my life lived, yet I couldn't call her because we were estranged.

As my world, as many of you know, has been rearranged recently so to speak, and I find myself, in my estimation a better person, a stronger Christian, I want to give more than receive. I want to love more than being loved. I want to bring peace and understanding instead of sorrow and despair.

I don't believe in coincidences anymore. I believe in purpose. I create the purpose because my eyes have been opened. For many years I have asked, "Why in the heck do You still have me hangin' around here?" And I've shared with all of you in the past months the answer that was always in front of me, "To help and heal others". But in order to heal others, I first have to heal myself.

I shared the story with my pastor this past Sunday about finding myself in a city and have the feeling that maybe one last effort was in order. In fact, I have actually never made that effort at all if all truth be known. I simply relegated it to Pattye and hoped maybe her efforts would have success. Nope, it's my turn now and it's my responsibility as it always was but I was too much of a coward to accept it. My pastor offered any kind of assistance, perhaps as a sounding board to try to not only find out why the ugly, horrid "estrangement" occurred but how to finally dissolve it into hell where it belongs.

Reconciliation

I doubt I will share my outcome with you. My purpose was to simply tell you my plan and perhaps give you hope that your pain as well just might have a chance to be removed and the word family can replace the word estrangement in your life. As always, I appreciate your prayers and guidance. But this time I want to offer you prayers and hope and that maybe you too can find the reconciliation you desperately wish for. Let's all try and make that one last effort. Peace

Should I or should I not...part 2

When I last left you with the St. Joseph saga a few weeks ago and the decision on whether or not to buy such statue and then bury it, per the instructions, in order to help sell my house, I was going to ask learned theologians for advice.

The original story can be found here http://ireadthenews.blogspot.com/2019/09/should-i-or-should-i-not.html  and my dilemma was that I didn't want to commit any kind of idolatry seeing that for the most part my spiritual life has been changing for the better. And I certainly didn't want to risk eternal flames for something as foolish as burying a sacred statue for monetary gain.

After I had received the clergy's blessing (no pun intended) I sought out finding the revered St. Joseph Home Selling Kit.

My first stop was to an ACE Hardware store in the neighborhood where I had found online that they provided such kits. As I entered the store, there was an attractive woman in probably her late 30s serving as a "greeter" and wearing an ACE Hardware shirt.

When she asked me if she could help me, I sheepishly whispered to her in a barely audible voice since I was still feeling like perhaps I was on questionable ground. I softly whispered, "I need to make a personal purchase?"

Her eyes widened as big as saucers and I think perhaps maybe she was thinking I was looking  for an intimate, personal device or something like that and I didn't want the public to hear. When I said, "I'm looking for a St. Joseph statue to help in selling my house". Her surprise immediately changed to a smile and she whispered back, which kind of made me giggle under my breath for her honoring my discreetness, "Oh yes, we sell those statues."

She softly said, "let me check with my manager" as she again whispered into her headset trying to find out where they were located. After receiving her answer from her manager, she nodded to me and said they were available online and could be delivered to the store. I thanked her profusely and in a fast retreat out the door with my underarms deeply pitted out, I almost ran to my car.

Well, several days went by and then I received a posting on my Facebook page from my cousin, Janice, who initiated this whole thing asking me if I had made my purchase yet. I offered up some kind of crap excuse only because again, after a childhood of learning about religion sometimes through fear and fire and brimstone, and heck I still don't even know what brimstone is, I just didn't want to cross over that line between Light and Dark.

I did a little more investigative work and sought out a Catholic Bookstore in the neighborhood and ventured in with a little more confidence hoping to make my purchase.

And just as I was going in the store I realized I didn't have my wallet. This was the first time in I guess maybe 60 years that I have ever gone anywhere without my wallet. I was stunned...and then panicked....Was this a divine sign that maybe I shouldn't be headed in this direction?

I paused and thought, "Well, maybe it's a positive test" halfway convincing myself that all was well. And since I was already at the store I thought I might as well go on in and at least see if they had them,

And oh, they did. The kind lady opened a drawer and I bet there were no less than 25 of the St. Joseph Home Selling Kits staring me in the face. Okay, this has to be all positive, a catholic store selling the statues, and getting the go ahead from the clergy. I'm gonna do it.

I raced home just under the speed limit telling myself if I get a ticket or have a wreck or God forbid, my wallet isn't at home and I lost it, well then I'll give up this idolatry scheme.

Wallet was at home. I drove back to the store, chatted with the lady for a little bit, got my package which included instructions and now I prepare to send St. Joseph to the subterranean.

I'm at peace. I think I am doing the right thing and I will certainly keep all of you  posted of what happens next.

I sincerely love the journey that I am on and how I am learning something new everyday. Yes, it's a lonely journey, but I have all of you by my side, and of course I have my trusty companion Cooper and of course The Big Guy upstairs who looks down on me with Pattye at his side and just shakes his head back and forth saying, "Tommy, Tommy, Tommy.

Peace....and stay tuned for part three.

My dream kinda ended up a nighmare!!

I've given a lot of thought to where and how I want to enjoy the coming years. I had mentioned previously,  about selling the house and buying a RV and Cooper and I traveling around the country. Then at the suggestion of a high school friend, Carol Kehl Smith, she said I could just visit all of my friends and classmates around the country. That's when the following scenario came into my head-brain last night and then I awoke suddenly, in a cold sweat yet smiling!



WIFE: Honey, that guy you used to know in high school called on the landline while you were at Home Depot.  His name was Kendrick, or Kenson or something like that.

HUSBAND: Oh my gosh, was it Kender, Tom Kender, what did he say? Did he leave his number?

WIFE: He said he would call back later. Isn't he that dumbass that you told me got kicked out of high school for mooning and then ran away from home and went to Kentucky for the day or something like that?

HUSBAND: Honey that was over 50 years ago, it was just a high school thing. He's probably matured by now.

WIFE: Well, he said it's just him and his dog named Cooper now and he's traveling around the country visiting old friends in a RV. I don't want him parking some piece of crap RV in front of our house and mooching off of us. Remember that movie, "Christmas Vacation" with Chevy Chase and his cousin Eddie pumping out his RV into the sewer. I'm not putting up with that and besides our HOA doesn't allow for overnight parking on the street.

HUSBAND: Sweetheart, he's a good guy and I'm sure it's a nice RV. He's just kind of a rambling guy but has a heart of gold. I'm sure you'll like him. He's one of the funniest guys I know and he even does magic tricks. He claims he's a writer also.

WIFE: I don't care if he's funny. And what do you know about his grooming habits? He might go for days driving around a RV and mooch off of friends and take a shower and clog up their toilets from not going for days. And what about that dog. We've got our cats here and they sure don't want to be around some old smelly dog. He'll probably want to do his laundry as well. This house will stink to high heaven if he comes here. I really wish you would tell him we are too busy or are out of town.

HUSBAND: Honey, this guy is my friend. We used to get drunk together and drink Lawrence Screwdriver out of the bottle and made promises to each other that we would have each other's backs and we would never date each others girl friend once they broke up only unless they were hot and kinda like to mess around a lot.

WIFE: Didn't you tell me he was a freight elevator operator at Rike's Department Store after he graduated from high school.

HUSBAND: Honeybun, that was a different friend. His name was Eddie and he went on to become a successful lawyer. Tom, or as we sometimes called him, Skeeter, he went off to Oklahoma and did all kinds of different things. He later moved to Dallas and worked for a movie star and sold liquor and eventually had a Swimming Pool business for 30 years. He is a generous person also.



WIFE: Yeah, it was probably a porn star or something.Well, I don't want him messin' around with me. And who knows, he could be a pervert. You know when these guys lose a spouse they get all horny and start walkin' around with their zipper down and everything just a hangin' out and then they blame it on bein' old. And who knows he might end up stayin' and then claim he slipped on something and will want us to take care of him. And that dang dog probably sheds also.

HUSBAND: Darlin' I promise he won't be a problem and maybe your sister Helen might want to come over and meet him. He really is a good guy, kinda odd, but a great guy.

WIFE: Just what I don't want. One of your old drunk high school friends who is just hangin' out, ramblin' around, stayin' up late and being funny and then end up bein' family. I just don't like it.I bet he doesn't even have all of his own teeth and he'll leave them just sitting around someplace also.

HUSBAND: Honey, I hear you. As a matter of fact I hear you so well that I think I might ask him if I can go with him. Bye!

Should I or should I not???

With my new-found religion, I sure don't want to jeopardize the grounds I've gained by doing something stupid and falling away to the Dark Side. Dang. It's kinda like me hangin' around in a bar and people worrying that I might take a drink after over 20 years of sobriety. I do hang around a bar/restaurant across the street which is where I walk Cooper every evening and I stop to talk to my friends there. The bar is doggy friendly and Cooper likes being fed french fries as well but I don't even consider havin' a drink other than water.. So that sure ain't gonna happen just like I'm not going to worship false idols either.

But wow, did I come across something crazy-like today that I am having a hard time wrapping my head-brain around it.

As many of you know my home is on the market and has been for a couple of months now and even though I have had  a contract that fell through at the last minute, I continue to have showings and feel very positive about getting it sold. And although I haven't finalized any plans on where I will go if in fact I leave here, the idea of living permanently on a sailboat is still very intriguing and even the idea of travelling the country in a RV certainly has its merits. Regardless, I can't do anything until the house sells other than visit with friends.

But today, my cuz, Janice, who lives in Beavercreek, Ohio and whom I have a deep fondness for and have always enjoyed her company as a child and now thoroughly enjoy her friendship and companionship as an adult put me on to something that might just get this whole  process moving.

Okay, I want everyone to raise their hand who have ever heard of burying a statue of St. Joseph in the front yard of the house you are trying to sell and you HAVE TO BURY IT UPSIDE DOWN!!! in order to make it work. Now, some of you may have heard it has to be St. Francis or St. Anthony but those guys still count just the same. In fact if you search long enough on the Internet you can find a half dozen saints that it will supposedly work with.

I've read varying accounts from priests who have been asked to bless the statue before it's buried, which they reluctantly do with the caveat that you dig the statue up afterwards and clean it up and put it in your new home.

I contacted my realtor, who will go unnamed right now to protect her anonymity, but she said she even carried them in her car trunk years ago. And my older brother Dave admitted to me when I told him about this story that his home had been on the market for a year and someone told him the story and he buried a statue and it sold 3 days later.

 Right now you can purchase at Ace Hardware a St. Joseph Home Selling Starter Kit for only $4.99.

Well, I'm going to run this by my pastor tomorrow morning and run it by some of my more learned-than- me, theological thinkers and get their take. And if I get a somewhat positive feedback, I'm headed to the hardware store!.

Like I said, I sure don't want to end up on the "Dark Side" but dang, it would be great to sell the house.

Peace

And a Happy Birthday in Heaven to my wonderful wife today, Sept. 14th. I know you're smiling knowing I'm writing again.

"One step at a time"....

From the moment we enter the world out of the womb our accomplishments are constantly monitored. Our first cry in the delivery room is a sign we are alive and living. Our first words that we utter bring ecstasy to our parents as they interpret  that "Dada" or "Momma" and confirms to them that we are learning. Our first step as we struggle to keep our balance is a prelude to what might be the beginning of a long distance marathon runner or track star. Every moment of every day of our life is an accomplishment.

But sometimes our learning, our accomplishments our lives as we know them, suddenly takes an unexpected turn. We simply go into survival mode trying to make it through the moment, the hour and then the day.

It could be someone trying to recover from addiction, a survivor from a broken marriage or a grieving spouse who has been left to begin life anew, yet alone. All of these paths have the same common thread. The steps have to simply be taken "one step at a time".

No one wants to linger in their pain, wallow in their misery or be alone in their thoughts with no one to share them with, yet the recovery has to begin with that first step and then the next and the next.

Our accomplishments are marked by the simplest of tokens. It might be a simple wooden chip celebrating a day or a week or a month of sobriety. It could be venturing outside the home to meet new people, or sometimes it can simply be doing simple tasks that to everyone else in the world who have "never been there" as simply mundane.

For me, I felt I made a major stride today. I cooked.

To most, I know it sounds silly if not ridiculous. To a few, I know you will understand.

Behold....The meal. Meatloaf, mashed potatoes and asparagus tips. Not pretentious. But delicious. 

It's a major step......no longer the frozen dinners, the fast-food drive thrus or even a night of fine dining, but simply a meal that I chose to take the time and the effort to make for myself.
And yet, probably another step I have taken is simply allowing this to be read by others, because as I'm now learning, I am here to teach, to share and to help those who will follow in my path.

I'm proud of myself...for now I know there is hope.

"You can't go home again"... or can you?

"You can't go home again", the title of an early book by one of this country's most prolific writers in the early 1900s, Thomas Wolfe, tells the story of George Webber, a struggling author, who writes a novel that makes references to his hometown, much like I have done over the years. Although George's novel becomes a national success, he is met with disdain by many of his hometown friends for the way he portrayed them. And that's where my life and the fictional character George Webber differ. My first published book of short stories about my hometown characters never became a national success, but I always treated my characters with the greatest of love.

But does that mean then that I can go back home again? Perhaps.

Wolfe formed the title, "You can't go home again" after a conversation with another writer and when asking permission to use the title, the other writer commented, "You can't go back home to your family, back home to your childhood ... back home to a young man's dreams of glory and of fame ... back home to places in the country, back home to the old forms and systems of things which once seemed everlasting but which are changing all the time – back home to the escapes of Time and Memory." 

So, does that mean then that I can't go back home again? Perhaps.

Wednesday, Aug. 14th, will be my second visit back to my hometown, Dayton, Ohio, in little over three months. Yet for almost 50 years, it was a trip I made less than a dozen times.

 I don't look for the nostalgia, though it will certainly be there. I don't need to rekindle friendships from a lifetime ago, simply because they don't need to be rekindled, the embers never died out. And I certainly won't be seeking out a new identify for I am who I am, and as I always like to submit to people  when asked about my life, my reply is always, "I am a simple man".

If you've never lived away from your childhood home, well then , my explanation for this overwhelming desire to return home probably won't register. And if you have been away from your childhood home for a lengthy period of time and you've found a new home elsewhere, then your childhood home might very well be simply a remembrance of the past.

As I have written before, when I left my hometown and ventured out on my own, I hadn't even turned 18 yet. I was headed to Oklahoma and then later Texas after a short pause for military service. Where I have hung my hat, it has always been home but always for these last 50 years, the chance to experience my hometown as an adult, has driven me to long for a world that was close to me, dear to me and of course where my source of all of the short stories I have written about found their beginning.

Maybe I can go home again, maybe I can't, but one never knows the answer to their questions, the results of their endeavor, the final destination of their journey unless that first step is taken.

So this week I take some preliminary steps in putting the plan into motion. Maybe my dreams will become fruitless, or maybe a Dayton that I have missed for all of these years just doesn't exist. But for sure, unlike George Webber, my friendships should probably still be intact. 

   "Truly great friends are hard to find, difficult to leave, and impossible to forget." - G. Randolph

Peace

"out of the mouths of babes"....regardless of how young or old they might be

There is nothing more fulfilling, more joyous than when you are watching an infant as they reach out and discover new things in their brand new world. They'll find their toes and smile to themselves. They'll reach out and grasp your finger holding on tightly with their precious little hand as they smile at you, and you back at them, both of you knowing what a wonderful experience they are having and what is to follow in their journey down the road of life. They are learning about themselves and their world.

So too have my new discoveries that have been taking place in my life during these past few months since Pattye's passing as I've learned so many things about myself, my God, and my universe, and have wanted to share with all of you. But sadly, I've been hesitant.

I have thrown away more words than I have written or published. I have silenced myself more than I have spoken. I have kept more of my emotions suppressed rather than sharing them with both friends and strangers.......and why, why do I not express myself?

How silly of me that I am willing to risk my eternal salvation for NOT sharing what I am supposed to be speaking or doing simply because I might cause a few of these supposed "social media friends", people whom many of them I have never even met in person, that I might cause them to think of me as weak for professing my Faith. For some reason, I shy away from any discussion of Faith just so I don't have to identify myself as a Believer and risking a non-existent relationship with an unmet stranger. Or perhaps I might be thought of as a hypocrite as I constantly fail while I am trying to learn.

And that takes me to what has occurred in just the past few weeks.

I had joined a small Anglican church, Restoration Church, literally across the street from where I live. I discovered it just a week before Pattye died while I was out walking Cooper on a Sunday morning and stopped and visited briefly with members of the congregation as they entered what I thought was just a large event center which mostly hosted wedding receptions or similar events. Little did I know, I would be there two Sundays later in desperate need of comfort to ease my pain.

Since then, on one recent Sunday morning, it dawned on me that this event center was transformed into my new church by volunteers who would come in early and help setup the seating, the altar, the sound system and everything that one would expect in a traditional environment in a permanent church type structure. And since I lived across the street, of course I could lend an assistance before the service started..

 While our head pastor, Jed Roseberry, was helping setup for the service (yes, many participate whether teacher or student) he asked me if I was comfortable being in front of people.
"Who, me?" Of course I was comfortable. Heck, I have never met a stranger in my life. And naturally, I was thinking he was going to ask me to participate in the service, perhaps reading the Lesson or maybe helping with the Collection basket.. Boy, was I in for a surprise.

As many of you know, who attend church on a regular basis or may have grown up in religious type environment you won't be surprised what came next. Jed said, "Tom, I'd like you to tell your story. I think sharing what has happened to you would not only benefit your growth but would benefit so many people who would hear it."

Geesh, I had worked hard to blend in. Sitting in a middle row, participating in a modest way. Singing the songs, yet not too loudly and now, he wants me to expose my emotions? Well, what the heck. I agreed.

Anyway, I did share the following Sunday. I told my story. I gave my Testimony and I discovered so much more about me. More than I ever knew. Of course I struggle each day with doing the right thing but I found I am not alone in this battle. I have both my new friends and my old friends. And I have God now. I always have had Him, I guess I just was a little embarrassed to admit it to myself or to tell anyone.

UPDATE: I was able to find audio of my testimony during Jed's sermon online:

Like an infant, I'm just now discovering my toes and learning to reach out and grasp someone's extended finger or hand. I smile to myself as I learn about who I am and wonder about who I will become. It's kind of a late start for me, being near 71, but then again, I'm not the one setting the time schedule.

Peace

It's all about "perspective".....

When I was a little 10 year-old Skeeter boy growing up in Dayton, Oho in the early 50's one of my early misdirections in life was attempting to learn to play the clarinet. I say misdirected because I HAD to learn to play it. It wasn't my choice. Oh, don't get me wrong....I chose the clarinet as the musical instrument that I wanted to learn to play but when it came time to practice and go to lessons, well heck...that wasn't happenin'.

I would ride the bus downtown to Hauer Music store and reluctantly sit and wait my turn to show my teacher what I had learned and then supposedly practiced the previous week. It was the same story week after week. No improvement. Just the squeaks and squeals as I tried to fight my way thru for that miserable half hour. But that's what happens when you don't practice, when you don't try to learn.....No results.

But that was me then. A kid always looking for adventure but not really wanting to make the sacrifices necessary to produce positive results. It was how I looked at things. It was my perspective.

Today, though things were different.

Some 60 years later as I waited all week long for my first piano lesson that would take place later in the day at my new teacher, Amy Munro's,  home,  I would find something I would later describe to a friend as beautiful. I was truly in another zone as I focused, something I have to really fight to do, on learning every thing she was saying, everything she was showing me, and everything in my new study book.

I know thousands and thousands of you have taken piano and music lessons before and many of you are, I'm sure, quite accomplished at it.

But for me, this was a breakthrough. This was me learning to do something I wanted if for no other reason than to simply hear the music of my own creations.

Sure I have sat down at the piano hundreds of times and hit the keys and heard the reverberating sounds. I've even written about it before on occasion.But that was just sound. That was a wave of pressure as the vibration went through the air.

But I was so focused. I was so enthralled with the genius design of such a wonderful instrument that instead of my counting the minutes until my lesson ended as when I was a young lad learning the clarinet, now I almost heartbroken that my short time had come to an end.

Do I make more out of this than what it really is?... Not in my mind.

Nope, not on drugs, not early dementia, not overly tired, none of those things. I truly felt I was part of the key as it simply struck a C# string (see how smart I'm getting!).

I don't care why I felt this way. All I know is I did. And, I want more. I want more and more and more. Maybe it's the loneliness  and I want music and sound in my life. I don't know.

I do know I loved the passion. I loved the passion I felt for making my own sounds.

No, this won't be another past failed episode in the life of a little Skeeter boy. This was too real.

Anyway, you asked....so there it is.....and embellished as always. But I know my soul is afire and perhaps I have ignited a fire in yours as well to follow your dream.

Peace

A simple change in my life might be a life-changing moment

We are truly one with the Universe. Just as the tides ebb and flow, so do our emotions as we have our exhilarating moments only to be followed by the receding moment of despair. Sometimes we are thrown about upon the beach like a rag doll tossed into the wind and as we try to steady ourselves in the soft sand, we are then pulled back into the sea and are swallowed up in the backwash.

This now-ending Memorial Day weekend was for me, a true example of the ebb and flow of the tides. Not only with the sound of Taps being played throughout the Land, but the silence that then followed when we remembered our fallen heroes and then a quick reminder of those close to us who have passed recently although not necessarily connected to the Service, but just still in our hearts.

I'm not here living in the past as one might think, but simply trying to find a way to carve out my future. I'm not sure what changes I'll make to bring happiness, and I'm not sure changes I'll make to soften the sadness. I had wasted most of the day, contemplating each decision that came to mind. So, what do you do when you need an answer to Life's many questions.....you head to WalMart to fill up those Life pantries and find short term answers.

I'm not buying much, nor am I buying anything new...just the basics, coffee, creamer, Popsicles and Reese's cups. Heck, some woman in Hawaii survived on insects and roots for 17 days, so my bounty is respectively full.

As I passed thru the candy aisle, I spotted a familiar white logo on a red shirt of a man perhaps in his late 40s or 50s. I called out the "Boomer Sooner" chant to him and he responded with a smile and a handshake as any good University of Oklahoma grad would do.. We talked briefly. I introduced myself to his wife and his adult daughter and just as I was leaving the aisle, I asked him and his family what they did, where they lived and how long have they been in the area....It's what I do...It used to drive Pattye crazy, but I enjoy meeting people and having them share their information.

Well, come to find out, this lovely lady teaches piano.  I quickly told my story of the recent changes in my life and including that I have a baby grand in desperate need of singing "his/her" 88 keys once again.
She asked if I played, and I answered, "no". I said I can read music and once played the clarinet. She smiled and said, "It's time to learn".

I agreed.

What had started off with a morning with the silence of despair as I woke up to yet a new day of my new beginning as my emotions were pulled back into sea, now had reversed the flow and my excitement was like the giant Kahuna wave that surfers long for....YES, I'll learn the piano at age 70 and I will once again rejoice in song. I won't be living in the past longing to hear notes come from within the piano but soon I will be playing the notes myself that will resonate throughout the house and my life.

A chance meeting while seeking answers at WalMart of all places will be yet another placard on the storyboard of my Life. Yes, this day ended on a positive note . (No pun intended...well, actually it was intended and I thought it was kind of a clever ending)

I begin next Tuesday.

Peace

Food for the Soul can sometimes be just empty calories...

Before anyone gets into a panic, let me reassure you that the below picture was taken early this morning and I have since been to the grocery store and replenished my food supply. So please, if you feel the need to send along a CARE package, there's no need, of course if you have any Esther Price candies sitting around, they are always welcomed...just kidding...kinda sorta about the CARE package.

But in filling my pantry or at least my refrigerator,  as I sheepishly admit, that I did fill my buggy at the store with a good amount of junk food, the good news is I am eating. The bad news it's a lot of empty calories. And that whole scenario gave cause for me to write this blog.

The human body can survive without food for more than 3 weeks but without water you might only last 3 or 4 days. So by consuming one bag of  Lay's Sour Cream and Onion potato chips, a bag of Reese's cups, a package of slices of processed cheese, or a medium bag of Cheetoh Puffs, I can live for months or even years. One's body learns to adapt. But are you living or just surviving?

The same is true for the food that nourishes our soul. We can actually live an entire lifetime with little more than  one morsel of food for our soul. We can load it full of junk food. We can fill it up with candy and sweets and chips. We can drown it with alcohol. We can fill it with hallucinate drugs. We can put anything we want into our souls and  experience the indigestion that affects us like when we eat a batter-fried jalapeno or a oversize chicken-fried steak, mashed potatoes and country gravy. But it's just like how we treat our physical bodies...is it living or just surviving.

The dichotomy of our physical well being and our inner spiritual meaning are in fact not opposed but are aligned. Think about it, do we make correct, well thought decisions when we are gorging ourselves with empty calories? Are we on our best mental game when we succumb to that Hershey bar or Kit Kat rush?

The reverse is true as well.....how can we expect our physical bodies to function properly when we fill our heads with lies, fake news, hate rhetoric, suspicions and morally corrupt thoughts. The fact is we can't.

I don't care how many supposed facts, how many articles, how many talk shows discussions, how many Facebook posts or blogs you read including mine,  or how many news shows you "feed your soul" if it's not healthy, if it's just junk food, then it's just empty calories and like your physical body, your soul will simply waste away until there is nothing left.

I'm fortunate that I have been given a new chance to mull over my life decisions. I've been able to weigh good against not-so-good. And yes, healthy diet versus empty calories.

I'm certainly not advocating abstaining from fun snacks and fun thoughts. But moderation for both is what is important. I started this blog with a Reese's cup in hand and now I'll finish it with an often heard and often repeated axiom, that comes from within "We are what we eat". But now I want you to take it a step further and include it in your menu for your soul. We are what we feed our souls as well.

Peace

New found freedoms ain't exactly what you think they might be.....

For several years now, since my youngest daughter, Kassidy, and her husband, Ben, and sons, Caleb, Nathan, Owen and Brendon (yep, lots of boys) , have moved backed to Oklahoma, Pattye and I would make the trip to Ardmore to either visit on holidays or simply just to see the kids.

It's a relatively short trip from Richardson, only a little over 100 miles, and it takes you across the Red River and into Oklahoma. And after only 3 miles from the state line and suddenly you are at the largest casino in the U.S., the WinStar World Casino and Resort with 600,000 square feet of gambling pleasure.

Every time we would pass by, I would say to Pattye, "Wanna stop?", knowing full well she had her schedule and the casino was not listed on it. It wasn't that she was against gambling, as a matter of fact she was actually pretty good at it. She had made her first trip to Las Vegas way before we met and then later after we were married, we made several trips to Lake Tahoe where I would spend the day skiing, a couple of times with  my high school friend, P.J. Shank who lived nearby in Yuba City, Calif., while Pattye would spend endless hours playing black jack, roulette and the slots.

I've always enjoyed my money too much to want to part it with while playing any game where the House has the advantage, but even still I wasn't against trying my chance at a slot machine on occasion.

But that was then, and this is now. So on my latest trip to Ardmore this past week, as I was taking Cooper to stay with Kass and all the boys as I began preparing for a much needed visit to Dayton, Ohio on Wednesday, and my first time away since Pattye's passing, I drove past the casino on my way North. I kinda smiled to myself and found myself saying to an empty car, well except for Cooper, "Wanna stop?". It was a good memory and even Cooper's ears perked up thinking like I was talking to him.

Well, I didn't stop on the way up, but after I dropped off my loyal furry-boy for a week of fun, I headed back South and back  home and the casino came into view.

Hmmm, yep, one of these new found freedoms that I certainly didn't choose to have but have now been thrust upon me. "Should I stop or should I go?...Decisions, decisions. Heck, I needed to eat so dang it, I might as well stop at the World's Largest Casino.

There were hundreds of cars in the parking lot and it was just 2:00 PM on a Monday afternoon. Well, maybe there were tourists, I thought. As I locked my car and proceeded to go into one of the many entrances, a man slightly bent over, walking with a kind of slow shuffle, caught my eye.

As always I greeted him like I do anyone, anytime, with a "How ya doin?" He smiled and said, "Well it's kind of a sad day"

Gosh, I had shared my story so many times in the past month and a half that I guess I had forgotten that so many others have sadness in their life and I am certainly not alone. I asked him politely what the problem was?

"Well," he said, "I'm divorcing my third wife today and I just needed to come here and have some fun." I smiled back wondering what to say and he continued, "She's just like the other two. We couldn't get along. They all complained about me always wanting to come here to have fun. I guess it wasn't their cup of tea."
I smiled again  and said, "Well dang, you were gamblin'"and then briefly shared my experience these past few weeks and he said, "Well dang, maybe my troubles aren't quite as bad as I thought"

He walked with me into the casino and actually we headed to the main entrance. It had been many, many years since I had been in a casino. Back in those days, everything was so much different. You played the slots by putting in real coins and when you won you got real coins back. Not anymore. In addition to having to show ID to get a plastic club card, everything is instant push buttons and  if and when you win, you get a credit to your card. I guess it's still fun.

The first thing that caused me to realize I was in the wrong place was as soon as we entered one of the many rooms, the acrid smell of stale cigarettes hit me in the face. "Are you kidding me, I said aloud, "This is 2019 and the place allows smoking?" But not only do they allow smoking, every person I saw at the afternoon soiree had a cig in their mouth, hanging off their lip, while pushing their walker and even some dragging along an oxygen tank.

Wow, I don't think I will be staying long.

I walked around for about 40 minutes, occasionally, actually often, coughing and decided, "Nah, this wasn't such a good idea. But heck, why don't I try at least one slot."

It wasn't the conventional slot as I had known so many years ago. It was flashing neon, blaring music and very enticing. I put my players card into the machine, (this way the IRS can keep tabs on you) took out a $20.00, slid it into the tray and immediately I had a $20.00 credit. Since there was no handle to pull, you're left with a choice of different buttons on this particular no-arm bandit. I played just 50 cents at a time but it took only seconds as I watched my fortune dwindle down. $19.50, $19.00, $18.50, $18.00, $17.50 an then suddenly it happened. I was a winner. I had no idea what the combination was, the chart was too small to read and it didn't have cherries or sevens or nothing I recognized.

Suddenly, I saw my balance was up to $20.05. I said under my breath, "Heck yeah." I cashed out, took my ticket, with no fanfare of hearing coins drop out of the machine. Got my $20 back plus 5 pennies and got the hell out of there.

I know Pattye was smiling as I was experiencing my first found freedom. I smiled back and said, "Thanks for stoppin"

I hauled my butt back to Richardson, thankful for the day and thankful for a good memory AND 5 cents richer than when I left!