No One Cares If You Live Or Die

Grab your ticket and your suitcase
Thunder’s rolling down the tracks
You don’t know where you’re goin’
But you know you won’t be back
Darlin’ if you’re weary
Lay your head upon my chest
We’ll take what we can carry
And we’ll leave the rest

Land of Hope and Dream- Springsteen

Today is my parent’s anniversary, number 57 but Dad isn’t here to celebrate with mom and as many of you know he has missed a bunch.

That is what happens when you die, you miss things or maybe it is the living who miss your presence and you’re nothing but memories of the person you were to those who miss you.

A couple of people called me Orrie at mom’s birthday party this past May and I turned and smiled each time.

Been a long time since that happened, can’t remember the last time I picked up the phone and heard them call me by his name either.

When it first started happening I was a teen who at first appreciated it and then found it irritating because I was my own man.

Reminds me of a blow out fight I had with him one time where he told me to grow up and remember that no one cares if you live or die.

Who You Knew

I have told the grandchildren they knew a very different man than I knew. I told them and my sisters to appreciate that he learned quite a bit about being a parent by experimenting with and on me.

I told them they didn’t know the guy in his thirties and forties who had a very hard edge that I banged up against many times.

Might have told them about how he took me out for lunch after I made the final out in a T-ball playoff game and was devastated that I hadn’t run faster.

Might have told him how I challenged him when I was about 15 or 16 and was slammed up against a wall with a speed I didn’t think he had.

I tried to force my way by him and he knocked me back a good three times. I didn’t realize until much later he was holding back and that I didn’t get his full strength. But I reluctantly realized I wasn’t physically capable of doing what I thought I could do.

It was a good lesson and one we laughed about down the road. Took a few years for me to be able to do that but you can’t screw an old head on young shoulders can you.

So sometimes when we talk about grandpa I look at the kids and think “who you knew is not who I knew” but I always smile too.

Got more than a few stories of him going out of his way to help me, my sisters and others. And the grandkids never challenged him the way I did.

Those of you who know me probably appreciate that because I do test limits and I might press the occasional button or two.

Love me or hate me, but don’t ignore me because I might pull your pigtails and feed you ketchup sandwiches.

Two Days From Now

Two days from now Facebook will highlight when I made the mad dash from Texas back to LA. Two days from now those memories will be there for me to read and revisit or ignore.

I am unlikely to ignore so I’ll look at them and respond in whatever way feels appropriate, but that is unlikely to include my wearing a sanitary pad on my ear to look like a weak convicted felon who pretends to be a tough guy.

There is panic and uncertainty in the air around the election. People are beginning to melt down a little bit and I am finding some of it to be a bit exhausting.

We have about 111 days until the election and that is long enough for me to say this is far from over. Enough time for me to say we don’t know everything that will or won’t happen and that panic serves no one.

That is another lesson I learned from my parents, not to panic. We control what we can and pivot, adapt and adjust as we go.

The unknown is hard. The uncertainty and anticipation of what might or might not be is challenging. There are moments where I look out upon it all and think about cutting some threads.

Do I need or want the chaos. Do I want to deal with the narishkeit.

I ask the question and then I say “I am not locked in here with you, you are locked in here with me.” It is kind of silly but it makes me smile and relieves stress.

That is worth more than a little.

The future is uncertain and unwritten regardless of who holds office. I am planting my feet and doing what I do and hoping that much is emulated by my kids, panic isn’t useful for any of us.

If you want to catch up click here and maybe you’ll read some of the recent posts. Maybe you’ll visit some of the kingdoms or maybe not.

Outside the street’s on fire in a real death waltz
Between what’s flesh and what’s fantasy
And the poets down here don’t write nothing at all
They just stand back and let it all be
And in the quick of the night
They reach for their moment and try to make an honest stand
But they wind up wounded, not even dead
Tonight in Jungleland
Jungleland- Springsteen