Losing me.....

I'm not half as funny as I used to be,

"Just not quite me",

some might say.

But, I'm not twice as loony as I ought to be,

due to some things, you see

which came my way.

I just try and take it day by day,

and still have my say,

and often do.

The hardest part to do is to hang on to you,

and then ask you to

not slip away......

"We Without You" - (Couldn't Be )

CEmFG / FGAmD / CEmFGC / FGC

I know you've thought of walking away
I've thought of walking too.
But what would we gain if we both walked away?
You all alone and
Me without you?

So, what do you say we just
Cut it in half?
Split all the bad stuff in two?

I could never take it
if you walked away
there couldn't be a "we" without you...

Just take a bit of time and
figure it out.
You'll figure it just as I do.

I could never make it,
I could only fake it.
There couldn't be a "we" without you.

There wouldn't be a "we" without you...

The Wedding Band(s)

Sue and I were married on July 4th, 1986. There is no doubt about that. It's stamped on the inside of my wedding band along with the words "Forever Yours." But the real story behind the date is kind of funny, as it wasn't done until sometime after the date shown on this receipt, which is sometime later that July.

The ring, the original one, had been purchased before the wedding and was delivered on time for the ceremony. Sue lovingly placed it on my finger when we exchanged vows. I have the pictures to prove it. And the ring is right there for all to see. It was hard getting used to wearing a ring, as I was never really into jewelry. For the most part, unless I was buying it overseas and wearing it home for re-sale, I considered it kind of a non essential item. So, when asked if the ring fit, I said yes. It was a size 7 and a half.

Sue and I proceeded to go on our honeymoon to Cancun. This photo shows me arriving in Cancun, with the band visible on my left hand. It wouldn't be there for long. On the third day of our honeymoon I had been swimming, while Sue had been up in the hotel room, or somewhere, but when she came back she noticed that I was playing with the ring, twirling it around the base of my finger. Naturally she asked me if the ring "fit okay?" And naturally, never having worn a ring before, aside from a high school ring, which I had long ago lost, I didn't know how it was supposed to feel. As if to prove my point I took my hand and went, "See, it fits fine." With that statement I made a bold sweeping motion with my arm and hand, as I flung them both forcefully towards the fine, white Caribbean sand. The ring flew from my fingers, instantly swallowed by the Sand God, Lostringus.

Sue and I stared at one another in disbelief. But we were both instantly on our hands and knees, scooping up sand by the handful from the immediate area in which I had sacrificed my ring. After a few minutes a small crowd had gathered to watch us. Some of the more enterprising Mexicans were on their hands and knees along with us, as I had offered $100 to anyone who found the ring first. This may have been short sighted on my part, after all, if the gringo is willing to pay $100, it must be worth more..

After about an hour of this we gave it up to the Sand God, packed up our chairs and went back to the hotel and out to dinner, a bit bummed out. Sue was sure that this was an omen, dooming our marriage, which by now was all of three days old. For my part, I was wracked with guilt for my stupid and grandiose gesture, which had given birth to this whole tragedy. But I never felt that the marriage was at stake. This photo was taken the following night. You will notice the absence of the wedding band on my left hand.

We got back to Maryland, where we were living at the time, and immediately went to see the jeweler, where I got a new ring, with the same date and inscription as the first one. Although there was some initial discussion as to whether or not this ring should be a nose ring, we quickly settled on the traditional finger style which I had lost in Mexico. Only this time we made it a size 7.

"It Scared Me" - For Sue (2012

I first posted this in 2012. It’s still a relevant question we never like to ask; for whom do we mourn? Is it for the afflicted, or is it for ourselves?

It shook me up

to see you lying there.

The blood on the floor

made me scared.

Never felt so helpless

and didn't know what to do.

Was I thinking of me,

or thinking of you?

It's hard to say

what scares us the most.

The loss of your lover

or the love that you've lost.

Either way's a loser;

a turn of the cards.

While all the time you're thinking,

"God, why's life so hard?"

This was my reaction to Sue’s accident in the garage back in 2012. She gashed her head and had 6 stitches. I was worried about her, and also thinking of me being left alone; calling into question whether I am a good man, or a bad man.

  

Fridays at the Bank - Nostalgia

When life changes in increments it sometimes passes unnoticed until that one day when you look about and wonder what happened. That was my experience last Friday when I went to the bank and actually went inside to make a deposit. That, in itself, was unusual. I mean, who goes inside a bank anymore?

 The ATM and I have actually become so close over the years that I greet him/ her/ it with a hearty “Hello Machine!” whenever I visit. I do the same in the Self-Checkout line at the grocery. The grocery store machines have always spoken, while the ATM has been mum in a dignified way. But, recently, even my ATM has acquired a voice; which lends a whole new dimension to the relationship which is not unwelcome by me.

So, here I was inside the bank on a Friday afternoon around 3 o’clock and suddenly it struck me. Aside from the one teller, there was nobody there! And I mean there was not one single “customer” in the whole place! I’m 60 years old, so naturally I remember the days before “automatic deposit”, the means by which you are deprived of ever laying eyes upon your hard earned money. This is a process by which your pay has become somewhat akin to a rumor; the facts of which are heard, but the proof never actually seen.

As a man I found automatic deposit to go against the very grain of my natural “hunter gatherer” instincts; by which I was able to “bring home the bacon” each week in the form of the cash I had earned and lay it triumphantly before my wife. Those days are gone; and along with it a life which many women knew nothing about at the time. I’m talking about the world of “wife free” cash.

“Wife free” cash was a commodity which consisted of various means of converting assets; from grocery coupons to bonuses and even gas money; to unaccountable cash. It was somewhat like Nixon’s slush fund; available to be used at the sole discretion of the husband who was brave enough to procure it. And there were quite a few of us. Witness a fully packed bank on a Friday afternoon about 30 years ago.

Back then men never liked to wait in lines; we always tried to fob that off on our spouses. DMV, bill paying etc. were always relegated to the wives. We got away with it by letting them think we did this so that they could feel more secure about the bills being paid on time etc. And some of that was true. But it was all done in the name of credibility, while the reality was that it also masked our pursuit of “wife free” money; and nowhere was that pursuit more in evidence than on a Friday afternoon at the bank.

All the men in line had checks; some had more than one, the second being an “expense” check for re-imbursement of any money the employee had laid out during the previous week; some may have even had a bonus check which their wives knew nothing about; and still others may have kept a few bucks for gas which their bosses were actually paying them back for in that expense check.

There’s no real point to this post; other than to call your attention to a Friday ritual which has gone the way of all the other changes we sometimes call progress.

"A Book" by Desi Arnaz (1997)

This is one of the best autobiographies you will ever read. Beginning in Santiago, Cuba in 1917 where Mr. Arnaz was born, this book shows you the life of privilege he led as a young man when he was heir to the Bacardi fortune. When Batista came to power all that changed. In the 1940's he went to Miami where he was spotted by Xavier Cugat. He became a singer in Mr. Cugat's band and carved out a small reputation for himself at the same time.

From Miami he went on to lead the country through the "Conga" craze along with Carmen Miranda and her fruited headpieces. He then went on to Hollywood and some minor roles before being cast with Lucille Ball in some "B" movies. From there it's all, as they say, history.

Mr. Arnaz takes us through the years of "I Love Lucy", giving us a "cooks tour" of not only the show but the thought process which was behind it.This is the show that really set the stage for many of the sitcoms that we have enjoyed over the years. This was also the show that introduced us to the use of 3 camera angles, a process still in use today. He also chronicles the changes in his relationship with Lucy that finally led to their breakup in 1960.

The difference between this book and the two earlier books, "I Love Lucy" and "Desilu" is astounding. This book is so much more than just the story of the TV show. This is Desi Arnaz telling the story and history of his family fortune and its' subsequent loss. It is also the story of Miami and the entertainment scene in the 1940's. It's also a look behind the mind of the man who just about invented "residuals" for TV sitcoms. Not to mention taping the shows to begin with.

Fans of Lucy and fans of TV History will love this insightful and snappy book. It crackles from the opening page to the last. The author spares no one- himself included- in an effort to tell the tale correctly, even though it often casts him in a poor light.

Though they both remarried, they remained friends for the rest of their lives. There was just too much passion for their own marriage to endure. An honestly written, straight from the heart autobiography, this is one of those books that you simply don't want to pass up. In short, this is a tremendously appealing and entertaining book.

"These Few Precious Days" by Christopher Andersen (2013)

I picked this book up with no intention of reading it all the way through, let alone review it. It seemed as if it would be the gossipy type of “beach book” you take on vacation and don’t expect much of. I love being wrong.

In this carefully annotated and indexed book, the author has penned a comprehensive look at one of the most fascinating power couples ever. This is the story of the marriage of President and Mrs. Kennedy during the 1,000 days that they inhabited the White House, as well as the world stage. It is a fascinating story because it is so well documented and it accurately reflects the attitudes of the early 1960’s.

Relying on the memories of those who were closest to the couple; a range which spans everyone from the President’s sisters to the White House Staff; the author covers just about every base there is in telling the story of the Presidents numerous affairs, as well as his respect for his wife. If that seems odd; as it does to me; then reading this book will expose you to the jet set world of the 1960’s when everybody, it seems, was pushing the boundaries of the ordinary, and accepted, social mores.

The fact that the President had his hands full with one world crisis after another during this period, did little to slow down his Lothario like appetite for women; any women; anywhere; anytime. This appetite was always present, even before he became President, but was exacerbated by his use of powerful steroids and painkillers, mixed with amphetamines. Dr. Jacobson, known to millions as Dr. Feelgood, was logging more air miles that Hillary Clinton as he traveled back and forth from New York to Washington, California, Florida and even accompanying the President on his first foreign summit with Khrushchev in 1961.

But more than anything else, this book is the portrait of a woman coming to terms with a world she did not much like, yet came to command. From her efforts to restore the White House to her last years as an editor, this woman was as close to a Queen as America has ever had. Surprisingly, this was a fascinating book to read.

"Donald's Diary" - Donald Duck (1954)

In this 1954 cartoon Donald is a happy bachelor looking for love and finds that true love is more than he bargained for. But before he realizes that truth, he must go through all of the “honeymoon” phases attendant to any loving relationship.

With the standard cast of Donald, Daisy and Huey, Dewey and Louie it is hard to imagine that this was the last feature which would have Daisy Duck in it. She is, after all, the main character in this cartoon, which is a wonderful send up of a typical marriage.

The cartoon begins in what appears to be San Francisco, with Donald strolling the hilly streets in search of love. Daisy hears him whistling down the street and dons a beautiful dress in the hopes of snaring a mate. She does all of the atypical things that women in the movies do; she drops a handkerchief; goes into a faint; even pretends to drown, but Donald seems oblivious to her. But Daisy has a few tricks up her sleeve and the two are soon dating.

Their courtship consists of all the usual things; a drive-in movie; eating at a diner; and they even carve their names on a tree trunk. (The trunk actually has all of Daisy’s previous prospects names on it.) It is at this point that they kiss and “fall in love.”

The next logical step is for Donald to meet Daisy’s family. Huey, Dewey and Louie play Daisy’s brothers and they give Donald the welcome you would expect in a Donald Duck cartoon. He then meets her deaf mother, who is an exact replica of Whistler’s classic painting. After meeting her father, a crazed photographer, Donald is entranced with the idea of entering the state of Holy Matrimony.

He goes to the jewelry store and buys the requisite ring in order to propose to Daisy. He arrives back at the house and the stage is set for him to pop the question. But, while Daisy is upstairs getting ready; which takes several hours; Donald falls into a deep sleep, dreaming of married life.

After Daisy accepts his proposal in the dream the two start out life as a happily wedded couple. But happiness seems to elude Donald at every turn as he deals with his in laws and all of the responsibilities which go along with wedded bliss. Clearly, Donald has made a mistake.

When Daisy comes downstairs to wake him up, expecting him to propose, Donald screams in horror and runs out of the house screaming, leaving a hole in the door which he neglected to open while making his escape. The wedding is, apparently, off.

When we next see Donald he is sitting in a sparsely furnished room writing in his diary. As the cartoon comes to a close Donald writes his summation of what he has almost been through. “"It was a narrow escape. Though I was born when I kissed her, I died when we parted."  

A bugle is then heard playing in the background and he rushes out the door to take his place along the ramparts of a desert fort flying the French tricolor. The last thing he says as the cartoon comes to a close is, "But I lived for a little while".

This is the original 1954 movie poster for "Donald's Diary"

The Hidden Cost

Today’s post encompasses corporate America, baby boomers, shopping, marriage and the hidden cost of always being right. I know this to be a true story, because it happened to me…

I was doing some shopping last week (that’s the baby boomer/shopping part) and when I got home I noticed that I did not have a receipt from the grocery store. I had, instead, a long blank slip with coupons printed all over it. I must have mistakenly taken it and missed the actual receipt. But, since some stores print on both sides of the tape, I wasn't really sure that I had done anything wrong. (That’s the corporate America part.)

So, I told my wife that I forgot to take the receipt; after being married so long I immediately dismissed the notion that I was right; I mean it must be my fault. Sue just kidded me a bit about getting old and forgetful. (That’s the marriage part.)

So, imagine how happy; nay thrilled; I was the other day when, shopping at the same store, I got the receipt and it was printed on both sides, proving that I did not in fact forget the receipt last week. I even remembered the amount being $29.71; a feat for which I was given no credit at all.

It was with triumph in my heart that I sat down in the car and wrote the note on the receipt pictured above, proclaiming the fact that; just as with Wolf Larson in “Sea Wolf” by Jack London; I was indeed right. I even got about 5 miles down the road before I realized the hidden cost associated with my being right. I had forgotten to take the $6 dollars change I asked for…

Happy Birthday Sue!

Today is Sue’s birthday. I wouldn't tell you how old she’s not- but she is a couple of week’s older than me; and wiser, too. This photo; which is one of my favorites; was taken in New York about a year after we met in Baltimore, where I was sitting for my Third Mates License and Sue was working for Social Security. We've been together ever since, much to my good fortune and a lapse of judgment on her part.

We met when both of us had just turned 29; and hopefully were old enough to know who we really wanted to spend the rest of our lives with. Sue, thanks for letting me be your husband. I was waiting for you to come along. I just never understood what took you so long.  

Happy Birthday Sue - you still light up my life...

Dinner at the Club

Last night Sue and I had dinner at one of the local marinas to celebrate the 4^th, and our 27^th anniversary. We started out with drinks on the veranda; that’s an ice tea in my hand; and then moved on to dinner inside, just as it began to pour outside.

And by the time dinner was through, sunny skies had won the battle between the forces of nature; prompting me to think how much marriage is like that. There are storms, some with thunder and lightning; and even occasional hail; but the sun always breaks through in the end.

"Silver Linings Playbook" with Robert DeNiro and Bradley Cooper (2012)

David O. Russell did an excellent job of writing the screen play for this movie, which is taken from the novel by Matthew Quick. Set in present day Philadelphia, the film tells the story of Pat, Jr., played by Bradley Cooper, who is released from John Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore after becoming violent when he finds his wife in the shower with another man.

After 8 months, his mother, played by Jacki Weaver, comes to pick him up and take him home. But, there are conditions to his release. He must remain on his medications; which he routinely spits out; and he must not have any contact with his estranged wife, including staying several hundred feet from her place of employment. Any violation of these conditions will see him returned to Baltimore.

Arriving at home in Philadelphia, Pat, Jr. finds that his father, Pat Sr., played by Robert DeNiro, has lost his job and is taking bets on sports events as a way to make a living. Pat, Jr. cannot seem to come to terms with the dissolution of his marriage. He feels that if can just explain to her what happened that day when he caught her in the shower, he can move on. But, there is that pesky restraining order to be dealt with.

He hooks up with an old friend, Ronnie, played by John Ortiz, who is married, and through him meets a woman named Tiffany, played by Jennifer Lawrence. Her husband was a police officer killed in the line of duty; leaving Tiffany widowed and deeply troubled. She has been on a bender, sleeping with just about anyone she can, to fill the void left by her husband’s death. When Pat, Jr. meets her, things begin to happen.

He continues to eschew the medications and embarks on a journey of self-discovery. His main goal is to get back to his wife; even if just to explain his actions and what caused him to lose control. He also longs to return to teaching, which his diagnosis as bi-polar prevents him from doing. So, he begins to look for the “silver linings” in his life as a way to regain control of himself. The biggest problem he has is that he hears the Stevie Wonder song “My Cheri Amour” playing over and over in his head. It was the song he and his wife danced to at their wedding, and was also the song playing on the radio when he discovered his wife in the shower. Whenever he hears it; or thinks he does; he becomes out of control, threatening the very freedom which he cherishes.

As he becomes involved more and more with Tiffany, he begins to realize that we are all, to some extent, obsessed with something or other. His father is a fanatic Philadelphia Eagles fan, and risks prison for taking bets on the game. After all, how sane is that? As Pat and Tiffany get to know one another more, they begin to feed off of one another with surprising results. What begins as a love-hate type relationship evolves into a deeper understanding of both themselves, as well as those around them who affect their lives. In the end, the question which hangs in the air is not whether Pat, Jr. and Tiffany are flawed, but rather it becomes apparent that we all are; in one way or another.

Robert DeNiro gets better and better with each film he makes. It doesn’t matter if he is directing, or just acting, he simply matures more with each film he does. 

"Awaiting Delivery" by John Wiley

I don’t remember which book I read this in, but it was way back before I was blogging, or even e-mailing for that matter. It meant enough to me that I Xeroxed the story and have kept it for many years, so it’s worth sharing. It was written by John Wiley of Charlotte, North Carolina and was in a book which I had obviously borrowed from a library.

I found it  the other day in a stack of stuff I was putting in order; something I find myself doing more and more these days. Not for any particular reason; except to have a complete picture of who I am and the things which I like. This is one that I like. It cuts right to the random nature of our lives and how one tiny thing can affect another, underscoring; once again; that we are all connected. Here is  Mr. Wiley’s tale;

Awaiting Delivery by John Wiley

I work as a Postal letter carrier in Charlotte, North Carolina. One day a couple of years ago, I drove up to a mailbox. Christy, the young divorcee who lived there, was waiting by the side of the road. She said that she had a story to tell me.

About six months earlier, it seems that I had delivered a letter to her which had her street number on it but was addressed to another house with the same number on a different street in the neighborhood. She had to run some errands, so she decided to drop off the letter at the correct house.

It turned out that the letter had been intended for Stan, who happened to be single. They talked for a little while, and later on he called. They started dating and had been going out together ever since.

I was embarrassed about delivering the letter wrong, but I was pleased that I had brought these two nice people together.

A few months later, a For Sale sign went up in Christy’s yard, and then the wedding invitations were sent out. In short order the house was sold, the wedding happened, and Christy and her kids moved into Stan’s house.

A few months later, I saw a For Sale sign in their yard. I feared the marriage might be in trouble, so I made an excuse to go to their door and check on them.

Christy opened the door, smiled broadly, and pointed to her stomach. “We’re having twins!” she said. “This house won’t be big enough, so we have to move.”

As I walked back to my truck, I was suddenly overwhelmed by the thought that my one mis-delivered letter was now giving two little yet-to-be-born people a shot at life. Awesome.

Note: The above story was originally published in "I Thought My Father was God" which was edited by Paul Auster of NPR's "All Things Considered." The book was released in 2002 and was part of NPR's National Story Project.

Senseless Squabbles about Egypt

Marriage is a series of negotiations. From the first kiss, right up to, and including the wedding vows; and even the venerated 50th Anniversary; married couples are forever swimming in an ocean of potential misunderstandings and strife. Take this latest episode between Sue and myself as an example. It was the most passionate argument we have had since the one about recycling a few years ago.

When I was a kid I always dreamt of going to Egypt to see the Pyramids and cross the desert on a camel after poling down the Nile on a raft. So, when I got older, I did. Sue also dreamt of this same tableau, but never got around to it, electing instead to get married and have kids; a decision she does not entirely regret; but the desire to make the journey remains unfulfilled. That brings us to the “meat” of the story.

I can’t travel very well anymore due to some physical problems; so I won’t be going to Egypt anytime soon. Sue has no such limitations and would like to go tomorrow, if possible. She has expressed this to me several times over the course of our marriage. And, there was even a time when I could have gone. But that time has passed me by, and regrettably, we will never be making that trip together.

Well, last week, Sue and I had a knockdown, drag out fight about making the trip; that is to say the argument was about her making the trip without me. I was angry that she was taking the trip and leaving me alone and in poor health. I even hurled the “whatever happened to better or worse” bomb at her. And she, for her part, nuked me as a “dreamkiller”. Harsh words on both sides.

Now, the worst part of having an argument as you get older is that it is physically draining. Even a simple verbal dispute can leave both parties exhausted and feeling ill. And, beyond that, it’s a fact that due to age limitations, most wife beaters are young; as are most women who kill their husbands. Let’s face it, things are simply just too much more demanding as we age.

Now, this argument was a loud one; entertaining the neighbors being a by-product of marital disagreements; and so we even had a few neighbors standing outside in the cold night air to get a better take on the issue at hand. Most; no doubt; are even expecting a postcard from the Sphinx sometime soon. But here’s the rub.

There isn’t going to be any trip to Egypt in the foreseeable future. It’s not that I’m a “dreamkiller”, and it’s not that Sue wants to forsake her marriage vows concerning “better or worse.” Simply put, we don’t have the extra cash to take the trip, making the entire argument specious; or to put it more simply; totally unnecessary. But, after 26 years of marriage, it’s very important to keep in practice.

Now, that’s my side of it, here’s a few words from Sue; my better half; concerning the above.

As Robert said, it’s draining to have these passionate fights anymore, especially unexpectedly out of the blue.  I was just coming down from upstairs, where I was working, to have lunch when the trip to Egypt that I've dreamt of taking since I was a child was suddenly thrust at me. I still haven’t figured out why or where this came from, I've only ever wistfully mentioned that maybe someday I could see the Pyramids, the Nile and ride the camels.  As much as I want to visit, going without him would be lonely and I would miss him. He has been there before and could tell me of all the changes and a history of the area and people.

So, Egypt has been a dream that most likely will remain unfulfilled, but other dreams have been filled, and overshadow this one many times over; such as falling in love, marrying, and raising children together, having mini vacations and road trips.  My dreams are far from over; some are fulfilled (love); and others are benched (Egypt); while some fall totally by the wayside (winning that last big Mega Lotto) and new ones are made – Should I dream that we no longer fight over nonsensical things? Hmm, fat chance that that one will happen.

"Carnage" with Jody Foster and Kate Winslet (2011)

When two young boys come to blows in a Brooklyn Heights playground, the parents of the two children get together to discuss the incident and just who is responsible. What happens from there is both hilariously funny, and also sadly true.

The two boys are never shown, except during a longshot while the opening credits are rolling. It is apparent though, that one of the boys has hit the other with what looks like a hockey stick. The film immediately shifts to the living room of Penelope and Michael Longstreet; played by John Reilly and Jody Foster; he is a hardware salesman, and she is an activist as well as a writer. They are the parents of the boy who was injured in the fight. The other couple, Alan and Nancy Cowan; played by Christoph Waltz and Kate Winslet; have agreed to come over and talk with the Longstreet’s about the incident.

What follows is the unraveling of the masks we all wear in order to justify our own views, as well as impress others. The two couples are very different, yet the problems they face in their marriages are somewhat similar, and may have colored their children’s behavior.

As the day turns into evening; and the bottle of scotch gets lower and lower; the true feelings of each couple come to the surface, and surprisingly they are not always in lockstep with one another. And when all is said and done, the children have gone on playing in the park, seemingly unaffected by the differences between the grownups at all.

Directed by Roman Polanski, this film is reminiscent of “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf”, in that the interaction between the couples exposes the cracks in the facades of their seemingly “perfect” lives. 

Happy 26th, Sue

This is Sue, my wife. I have written about her here and also posted photos of her before now. But this is one of my favorites. It really captures the inner light of the woman I married; so different than myself. When I see only darkness, she sees only light. That's what makes this picture so special to me. And, with all the ups and downs of marriage, I do believe we would both do it all again. That's love...

Happy 26th, Sue. Love grows.

Happy Fourth of July!

And to the rest of my fellow Americans, have a safe and happy Fourth of July. A lot of thought went into the creation of our nation; let's not allow partisan bickering to tear it all down. And, wherever you are today, "let freedom ring!"

Sue's Trees

Basically speaking I am a somewhat self absorbed person. I say this without pride, or shame, it's just the way I am. I'm kind of at the center of my own universe, and while I recognize the existence of the other planets and stars as they twirl and sparkle around me, if a few of them went missing I probably won't take notice. At least not right away.

So, you can imagine my surprise when a man and woman showed up at our door yesterday morning with this 20 foot tall Pin Oak tree. Sue had told me about it, but I had totally forgotten. Not an unusual thing.

It's a beautiful tree, one that will grow quickly and provide shade from the summer sun, and then give us leaves for composting in the fall. Sue is the gardener, I would probably never have done much to the outside of any of the homes we have lived in. It's always been Sue, digging and planting, that has made all of our homes look so nice.

We're not sure how long we plan on staying in our current home, but the trees and landscaping Sue has done, has made it all the more beautiful to live here while we explore our options. And, when the patio is done, we can sit under the tree and think about them.

Rainy Day Things

It's a chilly, rainy day here today. Better than the snow and ice gripping most of the nation right now. But this is where I am parked for the day, at the scarred and badly in need of refinishing, Dining Room table. It's one of the first things Sue and I ever bought together after we were married. Maybe that's why we've left it in it's current and battered state. I don't really know why, I just sat down to write this thing, so don't ask me where it's going, or for that matter, where it's coming from. As I said, it's a chilly, rainy day.

I suppose the table, like a good marriage, bears it's share of scars over the years, and it seems kind of vain to cover them up. That table is a reflection of almost 25 years of eating, doing homework, reading the paper and just about everything else that goes along with raising a family.

But today, the table of scars is mine alone. I will be spending most of the afternoon sitting there. I just started reading "Harlem" by Jonathan Gill, and I'll also be listening to music on my MP3 and those little Sony speakers. I might even try to make some guttural sounds of my own while I'm at it. What the hell, most of the neighbors are at work...