Your collage-

Written on Wednesday, January 7, 2009 at 7:57 a.m.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                          A bunch of snapshots- some burned permanently into the mind, others fleeting, but all are the ingredients in this shepherds pie we call life. 

It seems like these moments have been more noticeable as of late. Time has slowed down- kind of like when you're in the zone while playing your favorite sport. Everything is clear and it feels like you can see all the others players and predict their movement; your senses are firing- your awareness is a level above. Truly surreal if you've ever been there. Feels like I've been there in life. Not that I'm doing great things professionally or spiritually but just that I'm "seeing it all." Life is in 3D or so it seems-l

But anyway, the most recent moment happened yesterday while talking with a student about several bad choices that were made this past weekend. He hasn't quite grasp the concept that he's moving into a time in life where there aren't any "freebies." All bad choices have a price- some can change your life trajectory in the completely wrong direction. But he doesn't see that. Many people don't see that. They just make a decision NOW! But that "now" leads to the next "now", which leads to the next and so on whether positive or negative. And then before long they don't even remember where they were headed or what they believed in the beginning.

These snapshots are all part of the larger life collage! When you view life and it's subtleties like that, then the insignificant becomes significant- that's when the change happens.

From my experience, it's good and bad to take notice of the many snapshots. Some are brilliant while many are tragic- you can see the writing on the wall for so many people. You can see in their eyes and decisions that they're way behind the ball. Their life collage is so full of chaos and mistake that all they feel they have are the snapshots- NOW! It's almost habit, as if they've completely forgotten that each is connected. Tomorrow- what's that? Legacy? What's that?

So what's your photo collage going to look like? Are you going to have to photo shop out a bunch of images so it looks a little prettier? Or are you going to look at it as a whole and say, "Nice. It's not perfect but it looks beautiful to me! No regrets-"

Shower at the dentist-

Written on Wednesday, August 13, 2008 at 10:47pm

Yesterday I had the pleasure of getting my teeth cleaned - probably one of my least favorite "maintenance" things to do. It may be due to the fact that 4 years ago the dentist, with a smile, dug into my gum's like he was excavating every last bit of bone fragment. Every minute it seemed I was turning my head to spit out a mouthful of blood as if I was at the end of a heavyweight bout- not fun. It turned me from a grown man into a clammy, cold-sweat-soaked boy. Ever since, I keep these beloved visits bi-yearly.

So with hesitation I walked through the doors, already hearing the soft hum of the instruments of torture steadily at work. I walked to the window and faced the receptionist. Not another person was in the waiting room. The lady was all of two feet away; deep into conversation about office politics. I didn't say a word as I knew she knew I was standing there but it was quite obvious that she felt her conversation just had to continue. A full minute passed. All of a sudden a head popped out behind the frosted glass to the right of, lets call her . . . Ms. Story. She said, "Can I help you?" "As a matter of fact you can.", I said with a smile. She asked who I was and everything else they do in medical offices, all the while reaching over to Ms. Story's computer with her left hand to punch it all in. Ms. Story didn't budge. I bet you they have a great working relationship ; ) Then, as if this was all completely normal, Ms. Story turns her head towards the other lady and says, "Wow! Are you doing all this with your left hand? That's pretty amazing . . . Oh you're actually left handed right?" and then continued her conversation. Wowwww! I hope she was at least one of the dentists' wives.

I sat down for a bit. After about five minutes, a young lady bopped into the lobby waving me into the back. She was throwing off a pretty relaxed vibe. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. Like I always do, I gave her the run down on not inflicting pain. How I could care less if she gets all the crud off my teeth. She laughed as she fastened the bib around my neck. I warned her that almost all dentists think I smoke because of the severe coffee stains on the back of my front teeth. She was only half listening but then understood why I warned her after sticking that little mirror thing in to take a look around. Her exact words: "You weren't kindding! What do you do? Drink the stuff black and thick like mud!" I could see that this discovery was a bit of a challenge to her. It was apparent in her eyes.

She grabbed the spit sucker and tucked it in tight under my tongue. One question, does that thing do anything but just add to the gagging? Never have I been like "Oh thank goodness I have the spit sucker in. I might have drowned on my own saliva if not!" It just gets in the way and makes your spit glands go into over drive because it dries your mouth out into something resembling the Sahara. Have you ever noticed that it makes your lips super dry too? Annoying!

First tool in was the spinning wheel thing. No big deal just annoying as all get out. Kind of like scratching on the chalk board with your nails but for your teeth. Funny part was that she stopped halfway through my bottom row and said, "Geez! You're skeetering (sp?) all over the place. You've got some pretty active spit glands." Ha! After going through my whole mouth she stopped and said, "That didn't even come close to getting the stain off. Time for the big gun!" She grabbed some goggles and threw them on my face along with something stuffed lightly into my nose. "You're going to need both of these. It's about to get messy!" What? Needless to say, this thing shot a tiny jet stream of salt water at your teeth like it was a mini sand blaster (her description, not mine.) Once, she missed my tooth and it hit my lip. I was sure she just inadvertently pierced the dang thing! Didn't really hurt because it was so quick but the force was incredible. Water was everywhere. I was laughing (as much as I could without choking) because I could hear, not see, her saying stuff like, "Oh . . .woah! Oh man, I'm soaked . . . . Glad you're my last appointment today . . . And so on. She wasn't mad. She actually seemed to be having some fun.

The waterworks stopped. The floor was wet. My shirt was soaked. My face felt like it had been dipped into the Dead Sea it had so much dried salt on it. And she says, "Hmmm . . That didn't really work either. I guess I'll have to pull out the last line of defense." I quickly said that wouldn't be necessary. She argued it wouldn't be ethical as a dental hygienist to leave it. I countered with "Well I don't really care. Having the back of my teeth shining gloriously white doesn't matter to me. Game over." She laughed-

I must say . . . It was almost fun this time.

Is Alabama in the U.S.?

Written on Tuesday, July 8, 2008 at 3:00pm

Nat and I are visiting another country this week- it's called Alabama! No really, it feels as if we stepped out of a plane (or time machine) and into Enterprise, AL. Population- who knows? Not a small town, just a weird town. Home to Ft Rucker- the temporary home of Nat's brother, Walter, for another year or so.

So why is AL weird you ask?. It could be due in large part to the vast amount of vacant homes and store fronts that we passed during the two hr in state drive. Never have seen so many places long out of business with their old, faded Coca Cola signs hanging on by the last screw. Why they were ever here is another question. Now, please don't read any of this as a "I-HATE-Alabama" blog. It's not that. It's more of a "why-do-people-live-here-for-logistical-reasons" blog. There is a difference.

There doesn't seem to be any industry except for Walmart and the army base. There's lots of fields and a few car dealerships. Everything looks like it was built in the 70's and hasn't been touched since. The sidewalks are full of cracks with weeds taking up residence knowing full well that they'll be there for a long time. There are two cinemas (two screens each, respectively) that don't have any shows before 7 pm. There are about 10 Mexican restauraunts within a 2 mile radius- Hmmmm.

But the real kicker is that the closest coffee shop is 7 miles away!!!!! What!!! The rest of America changed all that about 15 yrs ago. I've never been or lived in a place that didn't at least have the workin' mans Dunkin' Donuts within 2 miles. This problem didn't even compute this morning- How could there not be a coffee shop close? Is coffee outlawed in the military or are they just so used to really bad coffee that the local gas station is just fine? I don't know.

I rolled out of bed anticipating the local brew to find that I had to drive 20 minutes to even find one but that was after I stopped at the Koffee Kettle. Bad decision- Let me tell you why.

It was already 9:30 am and the dull headache was setting in. As I pulled up to the store front, nothing hinted at the fact that they were a legit coffee shop. No cool logos or signs for an upcoming folk show. No mood lighting or aroma of espresso. Just a plain store front with really old decals stuck to the window and the peeling Visa/Mastercard stickers.

As I walked closer, my greatest fear materialized- this was indeed not a coffee destination but rather a smoky diner . . . .NO!!! "Diner" meanS, BAD . .. REALLY BAD coffee. Desperation made me keep walking. As I opened the door, stale smoke punched me in the nose (nothing like thick, old smoke in your lungs to start the day off.) I took a quick glance around and all the stereotypes were in fact true- there was the old, crusty local, Father Time himself, chatting with the waitress- the guy frying the eggs behind the counter looked like a shower had been put off for weeks, his hair just as greasy the eggs he was cooking. Nothing looked clean. All the tables had yellowed from age. You know the drill-

I knew this was going from bad to worse. But my addiction subdued my instinct and I ordered two coffees from the seemingly intoxicated waitress. She brought them over- the brown liquid was in soda cups- bad sign. She handed me "creamers" but they were coffeemate imposters. I asked for the real stuff and she said, "Sorry honey, this is all I got for ya. That'll be $2.38. You wanna add tip to that?" I wanted to reach over the counter and hold her up as she looked like collapse was only a moment away. A wave of nausea swept over me!

So I stood there mixing in the creamer and sugar knowing full well this was all in vain. Closed my eyes, took a sip, and it shot back out all over the counter . . . no, just kidding but that's what I felt like doing! It was probably the worst coffee I've ever had- no exaggerration!!!

Here I sit- my head aching, eyes unable to focus, and mind incapable of understanding the who, what, when, or hows of this place. This all without any chemical or alcoholic influence.

This my friends is Alabama!!

Real life cowboy-

Tuesday, May 20, 2008 at 2:06pm

I watch him move. I watch him shake the hands of other men; he's always seems bigger; always stronger than they are. When I least expect it, he tosses me a candy from inside his black suit. I'm pretty sure he's the only one that has these candies. Where do they come from? He turns and asks, "You comin' partner?" I nod with a smile. Are you kidding me? Of course I'm coming!


He's a real life cowboy- I watched him fight a horse and not even flinch. Watched as he's disassembled his guns on the table and said they'd be mine someday. Who wouldn't want to be his partner? He wakes before the chickens to toss hay bales and break ice in the buckets. I've got to be there with him. He walks fast. Maybe someday I can walk that fast. He speaks to the horses as if he knows them. But I guess he knows everyone and everything . . .


We finish up chores and head back to the house. I'm exhausted but he doesn't seem tired at all. He smiles and smacks me on the shoulder. "Want some breakfast?" he asks. "Ya, grandpa. I'd love some!" He always makes the best breakfast. Grandma already has sticky buns waiting. In a single motion, he flings his coat onto the hook, opens the fridge and grabs the eggs. Everything is so easy for him! In a moment, the kitchen is full of the aroma of family-



"Sit on down bud. Breakfast will be ready in a second- Want some toast?" Before I can answer he already has it in the toaster. I smile at dad as he plops down next to me. We exchange a smile. I think he can read the enjoyment all over my face. Before I can even finish my orange juice, grandpa asks if I want more. That's how it is between us- he's always busy but he never seems to forget my presence. It's as if he has a sixth Sean-sense.


******************************************************


I cherish the memories of my grandpa- he was what all boys need in their grandfathers. I wish I could be that same strength for him now as he battles cancer. As his once invincible body fails, I want him to feel that security . . . I hope he feels that same love that he so often gave.

You're not MacGyver-

Written on Monday, May 5, 2008 at 5:50pm

Fashion is the topic of the day today- Been kicking around in my head for a long time- Not the design or business but more about everyday fashion; the decisions that go into what we wear and who we choose to be. I don't think there are very few people (at least that I know) that just throw some clothes on without a second look before they head out the door in the morning. Or that show up at work without feeling like they have some sort of "image" they have to uphold. It's normal-

I think people all have chosen an identity of sorts. Your identity might not be wrapped up in what you wear but it is wrapped up in something. It may be that you're the most hard core hunter of all your buddies (for all you country folk); maybe you're the sharpest business man with all the ideas during the company meetings; maybe you love being the biggest outcast. We've all chosen an identity or group that fulfills that need.

What I find funny is how many people will flat out say that outward appearance or social status means nothing to them. I hear it over and over again! That they are completely secure in who they are. I must say that in the vast majority of those conversations, the party you're talking with is in denial. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that we're all stuck on being validated outwardly but I AM saying that it matters. A little or a lot; it matters. Even you moms- you might look like a wreck but that's because you like looking like the mom that "gives it her all" and puts her kids above all else. You very well may be giving it your all but, the opinion of other moms (especially other moms), is a motivator of your behavior. Why? Because we all want to feel like we're just a little bit better or more put together than the other guy?

People who are into fashion or body image are the most obvious "offenders", if you may, but that's just because they're easy to identify. The "closet" offenders are just harder to find until you get to know them and then you find the chink in their armour. You'll find out that Jack always has to have the answer to problems. Why? Because he likes being the "MacGyver" of the group. Or there's Sara, the "friendliest"; she's always first to befriend you but the last to return your call. It's more about the contact list for her than it is about real relationship.

My point is this; we all like to feel like we're worth something; whether the looks, brains, personality, leadership, charisma, etc. We all want to stick out from the crowd somehow.

So I guess what I'm saying is that when we're hangin' out, don't act like you're completely secure in all it is you do and say you are. Just relax. Facades get old and moldy real quick. I want to know you. The dings. The dents. They're what make us unique. If we were all perfect and completely secure in ourselves, we wouldn't need friends or God for that matter-