Always Two Halves

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Hey Kids,

My chair I use to write most of the time when I’m home was becoming pretty well worn. There was a bar that would cut across my back and make it very uncomfortable very quickly.

We talked about replacing it, but where in the budget does that come from? Where?

Today we decided to cruise through the “more affluent” side of Salt Lake City. We like to look at how the other half lives and think what life will be like when we “make it”.

We past a chair on the curb with a sign that said “Take me please”.

We stopped and inspected.

The 4Runner had enough space.

Say hello to my new writing chair.IMG_20150530_214503_918-1

And this blog is its first product.

That’s how “this half” lives.

 

Day 96

Write It Down

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74A899AE-8838-4D79-824215903D4AE5DCHey Kids,

I’m not exactly a poet but sometimes I take a stab at it.

I’m not sophisticated or technical but still, I have my moments.

This morning while on the motorcycle, I had a moment.

I had to work out a few of the 4 lines but it all played out pretty nice in my head.

I, of course, did not write it down. That would mean to stop and do it right then on the side of the road.

Now, the moment is gone and I cannot for the life of me remember it.

I remember the subject and what I felt, but the words tumbled out of my head and off the bike somewhere between here and work.

If you see them, let me know. I really liked the poem and would love to hear it again.

And next time: I’ll stop and write it down.

 

Day 95

That Weekend

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Hey Kids,

Usually there’s one weekend that really kicks off the warm summer weather. Usually it’s in May.sun

Everyone will return to work or school sunburned, lengths of pant and shirt sleeves shortened, tales of wild escapades will be told.

From the looks of the vacated rain clouds that have brought us the most measurable precipitation (people from desert areas understand that statement) in 10 years and the forecasted sunny weather; I’m going to guess that that weekend is the one that starts tomorrow.

I hope I’m right!

 

Stupid Storyline Update- It is less stupid today. A few hours of rewrite have stemmed the crappiness.

“The first draft of anything is [crap]. Earnest Hemingway.

Or sometimes even the 10th.

 

Day 94

Uncle Harold

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Hey Kids,

Recently I’ve been drawn to military stories, documentaries, movies and the like. I’ve always been interested but for whatever reason the interest became heightened.

I find myself reflecting on the scenes described or shown and I try to imagine what any of it was like. What would I be, how would I act, how would I survive, and if I did, how would I cope?

Many of the scenarios I imagine, even as far from reality as someone whose never seen a battle can guess; I do not fare so well. I know I want to, but I have no context in which I can pretend I would be anything great. I hope I’m wrong. And I hope I never know.

I think of those who did not make it. The young ones who ended their lives so suddenly and so short. The good and the bad. What a loss. What a loss for their families. What a loss for humanity. Another person who might have a valid opinion when a country thinks of war. Another person who understands the price.

Yesterday I remembered that I have an uncle who did not return from WWII. Obviously I never met him and he died when my mother was 3, she did not know him either. I have no idea who he was, what he thought, or what he could have become. But I know he died. And I know that other than a faint memory of visiting his gravesite (headstone actually, his body is in the Philippines), I’ve never paid any respects to him.

11329966_772156879564101_2161782549950359240_nI corrected this today, I found his headstone, near to my grandparents. It was heavily over grown and soiled with sod, dirt and mildew. My baby and I cleared out from around the flush mounted stone; as much as we could with our hands and paid our respect. I’m ashamed that I haven’t done this before today and I will be returning to do some long-term maintenance later on.

I am proud, of what of what my country was asked to do. The US has some faults and political decisions sometimes cloud our values and desires as a people but as a whole, I’m proud.

The sacrifice of my Uncle Harold will never be realized by me. But I know that a cost was paid by our family. As was many families. And by many families from many nations. Those who gave must know that the world is a better place because of it.

I hope that the US will never be required to sacrifice 450,000 people again. I hope my family never loses another member to a war. But I’m proud to say when they were, we gave.

Thank you Uncle Harold. I hope that one day I can learn and reclaim what we lost. I’m very proud of you.

 

Day 91

 

45 Minute Reward

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Hey Kids,

So a weird thing happened today.

IMG_20150523_093506_285 (1)I set up, ready to work on the motorcycle this morning. Jack in place, tools lined up, and schedule set. I wanted to have the front wheel off and at the door of the shop the moment they opened to have the new tire mounted and balanced.

The forecast called for rain. The skies were gray but nothing yet. In fact, it looked like the rain had worn itself out overnight and brighter skies lined the western horizon.

Let’s get it done!

I looked up. A small, and I mean small, little girl stared at me from behind my neighbor’s parking stall. She was maybe 3. Shorts, t-shirt, and no shoes. Her dark hair hung in nappy curls on her little Polynesian head.

She stared at me with a confused look, maybe surprised to see me. I had seen her before but usually at a distance with her mother and siblings around her. I think they live in the next building over from my 6-plex.This morning she was alone.

Her eyes began to well up with tears and her lip quivered.

I asked what she was doing out there by herself, and why was she in the roadway. She continued to stare and the tears began to streak down her cheeks.

She seem relieved when I walked to her but never spoke a word to give an answer to any of my questions. She took my hand and led me to walk with her.

Thinking her feet might be cold on the wet asphalt, I offered to pick her up. She accepted and nestled against my neck with large sobs.

I knocked on the apartment I thought her family lived. Their car was gone and no one answered. At 7:30 on a Saturday morning, I dared not randomly knocking on other doors.

Not knowing what else to do, and thinking she might be cold, I took her home.

After a short period of time, I got her to stop crying but she clung to me like I was her only chance at safety. Ever. She wanted nothing to do with anyone else at my place but me. She did accept an Easter hold-over offer of M&M’s.

At last after maybe 45 minutes of custody, we saw a possible family member, possibly looking for a lost child. Turned out to be her grandmother. The little girl forsook me for her. I wasn’t insulted but missed her immediately.

I waved and she waved back as she was toted off to her home and greeted by her siblings who stared at me like I had taken her. Hopefully they eventually heard the real story.

I went back to work on the bike and showed up late at the shop. It didn’t matter, they got the wheel right in and done.

The bike works again. The little girl got home. And I feel a lot better about the day. More than expected going into it.

It’s OK to disrupt a schedule to help someone else. And I felt special that she took to me and I provided her safety when she knew not what to do. Is there anything better than doing something for someone that can never repay you?

But thinking back on today and writing about it. I guess I did get repaid.

I was a dad again for 45 minutes.

 

Day 89

Exchange Day

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Hey Kids,

Today was exchange day.15 - 1 (2)

My money exchanged from my place of employment to everyone to whom I owe money.

Thank you money. Thanks for stopping by if only for a moment. I wish you could stick around a little longer. I wish we could spend more time together. I miss you.

I sound like my mother.

 

Day 88

Tut, Tut; It Looks Like Rain

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weatherHey Kids,

The weather is a subject everyone always seems to be willing to talk about.

I think it’s because it’s safe. The weather is nobody’s fault (ignore the global climate change discussion).

If it’s rainy and ruins the weekend, neither Bush nor Obama did it.

If it’s sunny, neither the Republicans nor Democrats can take the credit.

The Canadians didn’t do it. The Russians, despite the fact that they wanted to, didn’t do it. Nor the Chinese, French, Australians, or Mongolians.

We all live on this terrarium suspended in space together. And we all have weather. Granted some better than others. I wonder, how many issues we subscribe to our credit and to others, the blame; when in fact, it’s just how it is.

 

Day 87