One recent morning I woke up determined I was going to kick the day’s butt. I then headed out to face the day. I soon realized the day was going to get the better of me. Lesson of the day: if you plan to kick the day’s butt make sure you wear the right shoes to get the job done.
It is the end of one year and the start of another which means we are about to be inundated with awards shows. Yippee! Let’s see what actor/athlete/movie star/reality TV star/famous person for doing nothing can do something outrageous in an attempt to shock the rest of the world and set the TV talk shows into talking about it nonstop for days until the next awards show where something similar will happen again. I suppose you have to do something like that when there are so many awards shows which mean the awards mean next to nothing anymore because there are too many of them.
Rhetorical question of the moment (after listening to oldies radio): Can I get a witness?
If a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush then what is a bird stuck in your basement worth?
I spent about ten minutes watching a segment on the “Today” show this week which celebrated the scandals of the year 2009. I sat in amazement as the show host and a magazine editor took glee in reporting marriage break-ups and other meltdowns. I understand the celebrity world doesn’t look at life the same way many of the rest of us do. I couldn’t help but consider though which was more sad…the “scandals” or the thought that there are people who live and breathe this stuff like it were oxygen.
I also have come to believe that the local news shows should just record a report to run during every holiday season that tells viewers a) the malls are crowded and b) everyone is wondering whether or not people are buying gifts for others. Let’s see, people are at the mall during the holiday season? Wonder if they are buying anything? Thanks for figuring that one out for the rest of us, guys.
The best Christmas gift I received this year was the ongoing affirmation that my wife has a heart big enough to care for those she knows and loves but also big enough to reach out to help those in need.
After living in our house for several years, I can’t help but wonder the thought process that went into its actual construction. In our house we have a central heating and air system. This means we have vents located throughout the house. We also have a very small closet just off our kitchen which houses our washing machine and clothes dryer. Folding doors keep this hidden from the rest of the house. Inside this small enclosed area is, you guessed it, a heating/air conditioning vent. Why?
Two more things that really make no sense at all: color weather radar on the radio and blimp coverage of a football game in a dome.
During the holiday season there is nothing quite like the laughter of family together again after a long time separated from each other.
Tattoos are something to look at but scars tell more interesting stories.
Here’s wishing the New Year reinvigorate your goals and dreams as you look back at the past and look ahead to the future.
12.30.2009
12.23.2009
Christmas Present
Standing still, a warm glow sunk in all around me. The dreamy world I felt wrapped in was disrupted by a soft voice urging me to come to life out of my slumber.
I spoke, “Just five more minutes. I’ll still be able to make it to work on time.”
The voice replied, “No work today for you. You though do need to get a bit more alive than what you are now.”
A cool breeze hit me in the face as if someone had just raced through the house, charged through the front door and left it open. I sighed and said, “I suppose you are the spirit of Christmas present or some other title which has been bestowed on you by someone somewhere. I must admit this whole looking back and looking forward thing hasn’t really been the most enjoyable experience. Can I not just go back to sleep?”
The voice paused a few seconds before responding, “Well, I suppose you could go on sleeping. Is that really what you want?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Is it really what you need?”
“Yes, sleep is what I need. That, and maybe a warm, gooey chocolate chip cookie.”
The voice questioned me, “Do you not even want to process this whole adventure, you know, the past and the future? Do you not even want to maybe take a look at Christmas present?”
“Well, Christmas past was nice. Christmas future was a bit weird. And, honestly, I have seen the checking account this month so I have a bit of a grip on Christmas present. I imagine though you won’t go away easily. You just won’t give up, will you?”
“I like to think persistence and patience are good things to have. Don't make me get them out”
“All right. What do I need to do?” I asked.
“Look around.”
“What?”
“Just look around. What do you see? Take it in. Slowly, take it in.”
I looked through the bleariness in my eyes and responded, “I see a Christmas tree, Christmas lights. I see lots and lots of food. I see Christmas cards. I see gifts under the tree. Stockings hung by the fire.”
The voice interrupted me, “No. Slow down. What do you really see?”
I paused and looked more intently than before, “I see my wife, my family, my friends.”
“Yes. You take away any meaning from that revelation?”
“These are the things, actually, the people, that really matter.”
“Good. One last piece of advice, don’t ever stop looking.”
“But what about the past and the future? What am I to make of them?”
“It isn’t that hard to understand. I imagine you can come up with something that will make sense to yourself.”
“Okay. I suppose there’s nothing I can do about the future. There will be time later to be concerned with that. The past is around but all I can do is recall it from time-to-time and try not to live there from day-to-day. And if I thought about it even more I might realize I idealize the past a bit more than I should and I may even fear the future with a bit more than I should.
“Okay, that's good enough for a made for TV movie. It works for me. Nothing too earth-shattering but I guess it will do.”
“So, are we through here?”
“Yeah, that probably wraps it up. It is getting close to Christmas and well, I have miles to go before I sleep.”
“So, is there some deep valuable lesson I need to know before you go? Is there some deep underlying grand theme to all this that I need to be aware of?”
“Who do you think I am? Oprah? Look, I’m not sure you’re capable of much more than what you can consider at this very moment. And I’m even more certain that is really all that you need to think about right now anyway. So, lighten up, wake up, enjoy, just look around. It doesn't take much to see others who do not have it as well as you do. Look around.”
The voice faded. It was replaced by the sound of a remote control falling out of my hand and hitting the floor. My eyes popped open and I began to awaken. I rose to my feet and heard people down the hall enjoying themselves. The voices were familiar and the laughter was warm and spontaneous. I peaked around the corner to see a roomful of family and friends. I then stepped back out of sight just so I could soak in the feeling. As I did, I caught my likeness in a mirror. As I looked at my reflection I asked myself, “Is this really me?”
Before I could answer my own question the noises from the next room intensified and came into a sharp focus…kids fighting over just-unwrapped toys, family members arguing over politics, a football game playing on the television set, the same bad jokes being told again by the same people who have told them year after year, the clink of forks on plates as dessert after dessert just had to be sampled, the roar at the dining room table as a handful of folks play some challenging card game.
I take a deep breath and step into the room. I look around the room as my ears fill with the sweet sounds in the room and I think to myself, “Yep, this is really me. Thank God, it’s really me.”
I spoke, “Just five more minutes. I’ll still be able to make it to work on time.”
The voice replied, “No work today for you. You though do need to get a bit more alive than what you are now.”
A cool breeze hit me in the face as if someone had just raced through the house, charged through the front door and left it open. I sighed and said, “I suppose you are the spirit of Christmas present or some other title which has been bestowed on you by someone somewhere. I must admit this whole looking back and looking forward thing hasn’t really been the most enjoyable experience. Can I not just go back to sleep?”
The voice paused a few seconds before responding, “Well, I suppose you could go on sleeping. Is that really what you want?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Is it really what you need?”
“Yes, sleep is what I need. That, and maybe a warm, gooey chocolate chip cookie.”
The voice questioned me, “Do you not even want to process this whole adventure, you know, the past and the future? Do you not even want to maybe take a look at Christmas present?”
“Well, Christmas past was nice. Christmas future was a bit weird. And, honestly, I have seen the checking account this month so I have a bit of a grip on Christmas present. I imagine though you won’t go away easily. You just won’t give up, will you?”
“I like to think persistence and patience are good things to have. Don't make me get them out”
“All right. What do I need to do?” I asked.
“Look around.”
“What?”
“Just look around. What do you see? Take it in. Slowly, take it in.”
I looked through the bleariness in my eyes and responded, “I see a Christmas tree, Christmas lights. I see lots and lots of food. I see Christmas cards. I see gifts under the tree. Stockings hung by the fire.”
The voice interrupted me, “No. Slow down. What do you really see?”
I paused and looked more intently than before, “I see my wife, my family, my friends.”
“Yes. You take away any meaning from that revelation?”
“These are the things, actually, the people, that really matter.”
“Good. One last piece of advice, don’t ever stop looking.”
“But what about the past and the future? What am I to make of them?”
“It isn’t that hard to understand. I imagine you can come up with something that will make sense to yourself.”
“Okay. I suppose there’s nothing I can do about the future. There will be time later to be concerned with that. The past is around but all I can do is recall it from time-to-time and try not to live there from day-to-day. And if I thought about it even more I might realize I idealize the past a bit more than I should and I may even fear the future with a bit more than I should.
“Okay, that's good enough for a made for TV movie. It works for me. Nothing too earth-shattering but I guess it will do.”
“So, are we through here?”
“Yeah, that probably wraps it up. It is getting close to Christmas and well, I have miles to go before I sleep.”
“So, is there some deep valuable lesson I need to know before you go? Is there some deep underlying grand theme to all this that I need to be aware of?”
“Who do you think I am? Oprah? Look, I’m not sure you’re capable of much more than what you can consider at this very moment. And I’m even more certain that is really all that you need to think about right now anyway. So, lighten up, wake up, enjoy, just look around. It doesn't take much to see others who do not have it as well as you do. Look around.”
The voice faded. It was replaced by the sound of a remote control falling out of my hand and hitting the floor. My eyes popped open and I began to awaken. I rose to my feet and heard people down the hall enjoying themselves. The voices were familiar and the laughter was warm and spontaneous. I peaked around the corner to see a roomful of family and friends. I then stepped back out of sight just so I could soak in the feeling. As I did, I caught my likeness in a mirror. As I looked at my reflection I asked myself, “Is this really me?”
Before I could answer my own question the noises from the next room intensified and came into a sharp focus…kids fighting over just-unwrapped toys, family members arguing over politics, a football game playing on the television set, the same bad jokes being told again by the same people who have told them year after year, the clink of forks on plates as dessert after dessert just had to be sampled, the roar at the dining room table as a handful of folks play some challenging card game.
I take a deep breath and step into the room. I look around the room as my ears fill with the sweet sounds in the room and I think to myself, “Yep, this is really me. Thank God, it’s really me.”
12.16.2009
Forthcoming Festive Seasons
As I stepped forward, a dark fog engulfed me, an ominous siren began sounding faintly in the distance and a slight sulfuric smell hung in the air. Then I heard a voice being cleared, followed by a rather timid voice saying, “Not too far.”
I asked, “What?”
“Don’t take another step. We have regulations about where you can and cannot go. You are close to the line. Stop where you are.”
I stopped and rocked forward on my toes, “Okay. I guess you are the spirit of Christmases past.”
“No. My official title is Assistant Associate Administrator of Unconscious Mind Patterns Relating to Forthcoming Festive Seasons.”
“Hmmm, regulations, official titles, not a “Christmas” or even a “holiday season” in sight. I see that political correctness has now come to my dreams.”
“We no longer call them dreams. We refer to the sleep-like state where you sometimes envision things other than your actual life or envision your life in an exaggerated manner as ‘unconscious mind patterns’.”
“As opposed to conscious mind patterns which I suppose might include having goals or aspirations?”
“Well, there is some of that. Our leaders though are working to defeat that sort of thing.”
“Lovely. I’m not sure I want to know more. Can we just get on with this? I’ve already been to Christmases Past and—“
“We refer to that now as the Time Formerly Known as Christmases Past. In six more years, our leaders will eliminate that word from our vocabulary.”
“Yeah, words hurt. Can we just get on with this? There’s the Past, you are in the Future—“
“Forthcoming.”
“---and at some point I have to land back in the Present. Can we just get on with this, so I can get back home? I’m really not into where this is going.”
The voice then produced a stack of papers which began at my feet and reached to my belly button. An ink pen appeared on the top of the papers.
The voice spoke, “Okay. Before proceeding we need you to sign some release forms. I can get you another pen in case that one runs out of ink.”
“Is this a joke?”
“No, sometimes in this process ink pens run out of ink. There are a lot of places where you have to sign. Oh, wait, you mean with this as a whole, don’t you? Trust me, we take this very seriously. You need to sign these forms. We have to protect you.”
“You have to protect me? From the future, er, forthcoming? This is a dream, unconscious mind pattern or whatever, and you still have to protect me?”
“Well, yes. And us. We do have to protect us, too. I mean if you found out something you weren’t happy with, well, we just can’t take any chances.”
“My wife and I didn’t sign this many papers when we bought our house. I am not signing anything.”
A nervous laugh emanated in the direction of the voice, “You should have seen the paperwork that had to be signed to get us to this point. It’s been years and the Office of Media, News, Infotainment and Hype is still trying to read it all.”
“I think I have seen enough.”
“No, stop. What can I do to get you to view your forthcoming festive seasons?”
“Why do you care? Really, from just our few minutes together, I know I would not enjoy living in this type of environment. I’m going home.”
“Come on, I lose too many people this way.”
“Do you work on a quota?”
On top of the papers, a small remote control-looking device appeared.
“Pick up the spectromaviewer.”
I reach down and pick up the device. As I do, the stack of papers disappear.
As I look at the device, I ask, “What do I do next?”
“I normally don’t allow this. And I shouldn’t. I could get into trouble letting one of you avoid the paperwork. And then there’s all that time I have to take looking through the archives to find the file that will forge your signature. I can’t lose any more than I do now though.”
“You are a fine one, Mr. Grinch. Look, I promise not to get you into any trouble. I would like to see what the future—“
“Forthcoming.”
“—has to offer.”
The voice paused, “Your promise is no good here. Promises are only words.”
“Yeah, words hurt. Okay. Just let me go. I don’t care about the future, the forthcoming or whatever you have decided to call it. I would like to go home.”
“Hold the spectromaviewer in front of you and press the button labeled ‘Play’.”
I laughed, “So, in the future despite the political correctness we will still have the good ol’ remote control.”
As I pressed the Play button a video screen magically appeared in the space in front of me. A series of commercials began to air. I looked at the device but could find no button which would allow me to quickly scan through the messages.
The voice spoke, “There is no fast forward button. Our leadership eliminated those when they bailed out the media, the electronics companies and France a few years ago.”
Then the commercials ended and my name appeared on the screen. Underneath it a graphic read, “Magnolia Creek Quality Life Facility” then the video changed to show the back of an old man sitting in a rocking chair. A moment later, a handful of people approached the man in the chair. Their faces were digitally altered. When they spoke their voices were also altered. Nothing they said was very emotional or personal. No one even approached the old man in the chair to hug or even touch him. Two minutes later, they all left. The screen faded to black but not before a graphic popped up that read, “The actors portraying once-traditional families and people who are considered friends appear courtesy of PBS and were compensated for their performances.”
The screen disappeared. I looked around, “That’s it?”
“We’re very proud of what we are able to show people.”
“What you show people? I didn’t recognize any of those people. None of them were family or friends that I recognized. The words they spoke were dull platitudes. No one even got near the older man in the chair. No one wished him a Merry Christmas or brought him a gift. And no one spent any real time with him. It was so generic.”
“We can’t have real once-traditional families or real people who are considered friends appear. There’s too much risk.”
“This is a joke. You show nothing.”
“We show the future.”
“Future? I thought it was forthcoming. Either way, I’m done. I want to go home.”
“I’ll need the spectromaviewer before you depart.”
I reach the device toward the voice but as I do, I press the Play button one last time. The giant screen reappears briefly and the old man in the rocking chair from Magnolia Creek turns to face the camera. Just as quickly, the screen disappears.
I ask, “Is that me?”
The voice spoke, “This session of Mind Patterns Relating to Forthcoming Festive Seasons has ended. Please step aside.”
To be continued.
I asked, “What?”
“Don’t take another step. We have regulations about where you can and cannot go. You are close to the line. Stop where you are.”
I stopped and rocked forward on my toes, “Okay. I guess you are the spirit of Christmases past.”
“No. My official title is Assistant Associate Administrator of Unconscious Mind Patterns Relating to Forthcoming Festive Seasons.”
“Hmmm, regulations, official titles, not a “Christmas” or even a “holiday season” in sight. I see that political correctness has now come to my dreams.”
“We no longer call them dreams. We refer to the sleep-like state where you sometimes envision things other than your actual life or envision your life in an exaggerated manner as ‘unconscious mind patterns’.”
“As opposed to conscious mind patterns which I suppose might include having goals or aspirations?”
“Well, there is some of that. Our leaders though are working to defeat that sort of thing.”
“Lovely. I’m not sure I want to know more. Can we just get on with this? I’ve already been to Christmases Past and—“
“We refer to that now as the Time Formerly Known as Christmases Past. In six more years, our leaders will eliminate that word from our vocabulary.”
“Yeah, words hurt. Can we just get on with this? There’s the Past, you are in the Future—“
“Forthcoming.”
“---and at some point I have to land back in the Present. Can we just get on with this, so I can get back home? I’m really not into where this is going.”
The voice then produced a stack of papers which began at my feet and reached to my belly button. An ink pen appeared on the top of the papers.
The voice spoke, “Okay. Before proceeding we need you to sign some release forms. I can get you another pen in case that one runs out of ink.”
“Is this a joke?”
“No, sometimes in this process ink pens run out of ink. There are a lot of places where you have to sign. Oh, wait, you mean with this as a whole, don’t you? Trust me, we take this very seriously. You need to sign these forms. We have to protect you.”
“You have to protect me? From the future, er, forthcoming? This is a dream, unconscious mind pattern or whatever, and you still have to protect me?”
“Well, yes. And us. We do have to protect us, too. I mean if you found out something you weren’t happy with, well, we just can’t take any chances.”
“My wife and I didn’t sign this many papers when we bought our house. I am not signing anything.”
A nervous laugh emanated in the direction of the voice, “You should have seen the paperwork that had to be signed to get us to this point. It’s been years and the Office of Media, News, Infotainment and Hype is still trying to read it all.”
“I think I have seen enough.”
“No, stop. What can I do to get you to view your forthcoming festive seasons?”
“Why do you care? Really, from just our few minutes together, I know I would not enjoy living in this type of environment. I’m going home.”
“Come on, I lose too many people this way.”
“Do you work on a quota?”
On top of the papers, a small remote control-looking device appeared.
“Pick up the spectromaviewer.”
I reach down and pick up the device. As I do, the stack of papers disappear.
As I look at the device, I ask, “What do I do next?”
“I normally don’t allow this. And I shouldn’t. I could get into trouble letting one of you avoid the paperwork. And then there’s all that time I have to take looking through the archives to find the file that will forge your signature. I can’t lose any more than I do now though.”
“You are a fine one, Mr. Grinch. Look, I promise not to get you into any trouble. I would like to see what the future—“
“Forthcoming.”
“—has to offer.”
The voice paused, “Your promise is no good here. Promises are only words.”
“Yeah, words hurt. Okay. Just let me go. I don’t care about the future, the forthcoming or whatever you have decided to call it. I would like to go home.”
“Hold the spectromaviewer in front of you and press the button labeled ‘Play’.”
I laughed, “So, in the future despite the political correctness we will still have the good ol’ remote control.”
As I pressed the Play button a video screen magically appeared in the space in front of me. A series of commercials began to air. I looked at the device but could find no button which would allow me to quickly scan through the messages.
The voice spoke, “There is no fast forward button. Our leadership eliminated those when they bailed out the media, the electronics companies and France a few years ago.”
Then the commercials ended and my name appeared on the screen. Underneath it a graphic read, “Magnolia Creek Quality Life Facility” then the video changed to show the back of an old man sitting in a rocking chair. A moment later, a handful of people approached the man in the chair. Their faces were digitally altered. When they spoke their voices were also altered. Nothing they said was very emotional or personal. No one even approached the old man in the chair to hug or even touch him. Two minutes later, they all left. The screen faded to black but not before a graphic popped up that read, “The actors portraying once-traditional families and people who are considered friends appear courtesy of PBS and were compensated for their performances.”
The screen disappeared. I looked around, “That’s it?”
“We’re very proud of what we are able to show people.”
“What you show people? I didn’t recognize any of those people. None of them were family or friends that I recognized. The words they spoke were dull platitudes. No one even got near the older man in the chair. No one wished him a Merry Christmas or brought him a gift. And no one spent any real time with him. It was so generic.”
“We can’t have real once-traditional families or real people who are considered friends appear. There’s too much risk.”
“This is a joke. You show nothing.”
“We show the future.”
“Future? I thought it was forthcoming. Either way, I’m done. I want to go home.”
“I’ll need the spectromaviewer before you depart.”
I reach the device toward the voice but as I do, I press the Play button one last time. The giant screen reappears briefly and the old man in the rocking chair from Magnolia Creek turns to face the camera. Just as quickly, the screen disappears.
I ask, “Is that me?”
The voice spoke, “This session of Mind Patterns Relating to Forthcoming Festive Seasons has ended. Please step aside.”
To be continued.
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