Friday, August 15, 2008
Death and Taxes
08/15/2008
We have all probably heard people say the only two things in this world that are for certain are “death and taxes.” Now, as I get a little older, or a lot older in some of your eyes, I am beginning to see the truth in this.
I remember as my parents aged they attended more and more funerals. I see the same with The Nancy’s parents. I don’t think a month goes by that I do not hear them speak of someone they knew having passed away. Now, at this juncture of my life, I seem to be moving into this stage and I do not care for it. So far this month I have attended two funerals and could have gone to three. Additionally, I have been informed of another life that appears to be waning. I pray not, but have little control of such things.
Taxes are one thing none of us can escape, that is unless we just don’t pay them, but God knows I don’t care for funerals and care less for wakes. I do not enjoy “The Viewing,” thinking it to be totally unnecessary and a complete mortifying moment for me and the dead. Most dead people look little of the person I knew. Just this last week I went to my last remaining uncle’s funeral. He, lying in the coffin, little resembled the uncle I loved, but more like a manikin with heavy makeup applied. I have asked this not be my fate.
I don’t want people staring at me lying in a box with a lot of makeup covering the stains of death, and telling my survivors how good I look and how peaceful. Instead I want my family to get a couple of kegs of really good beer, order in five or six pizzas, and at the point when however many people attend this funeral party (let’s call it a fun party) get a little buzz on, I want them to gather around as my ashes are thrown into the air allowing the breeze to spread me out over the earth I love. Now that’s a funeral I can live with, so to speak.
And that is all I have to say about that…
Monday, August 11, 2008
Another Chicago Trip
08/11/2008
Just about a year ago I wrote of a trip to Chicago; actually, a trip from Chicago back to my home in Beautiful Downtown Berkeley Springs, West Virginia, population 711. That was a trip from hell. It took nearly forty-six hours to get from Chicago to my house, and I flew.
Today, again, almost exactly one-year ago, I am back in Chicago and my trip has begun with a surmountable issue: I am here, my bag is not.
Now most of us that fly from time to time for business have been in this situation. What with changing planes, perhaps rushing from a late arrival to an on-time departure, bags sometimes do not get loaded. Today’s incident has me somewhat baffled, in that I only took one plane – Washington-Dulles to Chicago’s O’Hare. How in the world does a bag not get on the plane when you only have one to get on? This is one of life’s little conundrums.
The United people didn’t seem to be baffled by this at all. It appeared to me the agent I spoke with took this as a ho-hum, everyday occurrence, and offered little more than a tough-shit attitude as she filled out a form, and telling me the bag will be delivered to my hotel sometime between 4 and 7 PM. Thanks, but no thanks. I will go back to the airport (just about a mile away) and retrieve my bag, hopefully, if the United not-so-smarts can get it on the later flight. Keeping my chubby little fingers crossed, I remain hopeful.
All that is all I have to say about that…
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Pregnancy: How Cool is That...
07/22/2008
I am in Louisville, Kentucky, actually across the river in Jeffersonville, Indiana, but who’s counting steps. I sat at a bar tonight at the Buckhead, a Jeffersonville beer joint, drinking brews and wishing I were at home with The Nancy. I happened to notice one of the servers was very pregnant, and to my utter surprise, I was jealous. What the hell is up with that? I am a sixty-four year-old man. I was stunned!!! All of this began me to think, and God knows I am known to do some crazy shit when I think. Jealous, me jealous, just the thought of an un-Spock like emotion such as jealousy makes me nuts, but nonetheless, I was felt it.
Can you think of anything more God-like than to be a mother? God is mother of the earth and of all things on it and around it forever and ever, amen!! I am in awe of pregnant women and of just plain women, for that matter. Just think of it, women are able to give life. Sure, we guys play a part, but for women it is so different, they grow life, we (guys) merely contribute to process it in a moment of lust. It is our true purpose for being here, to procreate. It is our only job.
I get tears in my eyes thinking what it must be like to have a life growing inside of one’s body and then one day getting to experience the ultimate beauty of giving birth. Does this make me a pussy – so to speak? I don’t think it does. Having read “Conversations with God,” one day even I may get to experience it, or perhaps I already have. Read the book and you will understand.
The Nancy says I am not your typical man. I think I am. Perhaps I just am a little more vulnerable than others, but I know I would like to experience the beauty of carrying a child and bringing in to this world. I suppose a little of this vulnerability comes with the four beers I had while I watched the pregnant server at Buckhead’s, but whether this is true or not, I am still in awe of the process.
And that is all I have to say about that…
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Life as Music - Note by Note
07/19/2008
Not long ago I was enjoying listening to the New Age Music on Sirius channel 173 as I motored on down the road. I think I like it best because there are no words or lyrics for me to attempt to listen to as I drive. Perhaps this is a reflection of my inability to do two things at once? The Nancy calls 173 the Elevator Music channel, and I get the distinct feeling she does not appreciate my choice, but since it is my car I get to choose what plays and when (Does that make me a control freak?). I don’t recall what the piece was but I do especially remember it was moving – you know, as in evoking emotion. I got to thinking about how brilliant someone has to be to put together a series of notes, basically unrelated sounds, and bring them together to form something that is both beautiful and flowing – a piece of music that moves the soul and even that music which I consider to be crap.
I remember seeing the motion picture “Amadeus” back in 1984, and in awe of Mozart and his ability to seemingly hear the music he was composing in his mind even before he wrote it down. Composing a symphony is not just putting a bunch of notes to paper, but also requires the composer to imagine how all the instruments in the orchestra will interact and compliment one another to accomplish what the composer has imagined for them. Is this not amazing?
So I pondered that one for a short while, and then began to see that life is like a musical composition. You heard this before: “Life is not about the destination but the journey.” As with music, our lives are a series of notes, notable events and passings, each playing at a particular moment, and each of us gets to compose our own. If life were just one “note,” it would be awfully short. In life, there are sweet notes, sour notes and off-key notes. There short notes and long notes, and God knows we all have some flats and sharps. But put them all together, and look at what can result? I am the composer of my life. It is a symphonic masterpiece, and so far it has had a pretty sweet sound.
Excuse me, please, I have to go. I am up early this morning I seem to have misplaced my baton, and I need to find it to begin my day.
And that is all I have to say about that…