Month: August 2024

  • ODDS and ENDS: Surprised I’m Here, Gotta Have Goals, and Sports

    (Nothin’ to do, nowhere to go…)

    I’m forty-seven years old. Not ashamed of my age, and other than a slight pot belly, I think I look rather good for my age. But for the life of me, when I was a kid, like nine years old, I never imagined that I would be this old. Well, sometimes I thought I’d be really old, like eighty, walking with a cane, shuffling around, being all grandpa like. No, when I was a kid, I thought I’d be in my twenties, and then, nothing. Thirty seemed like it was so far away, let alone forty. That some how, it couldn’t be possible that I would live that long. Not that I had some death wish, or believed I was doomed. No, it was more a matter of time. It’s time, the time it would take to become old seemed insurmountable. There just was no way that I could become that old… When I think about me at nine year old, I think he would be surprised that I am still here. And so bald…

    But the thing that makes getting older tolerable, is having a goal. Something to work towards, or look forward to. My Grandma Groff used to say that all the time when she would come and visit. That and it helps to have some spending money. But the goal thing, having something to accomplish, that has made a big difference if the last year for me. Not that it’s completely gone, but I don’t have that feeling of flounder much any more. That I’m just passing through my life, instead of being active in it.

    Growing up, we were a sports family, and then there was me; the un-athletic kid. I mean I tried. I tried my hand at baseball and basketball up through junior high. I really did love playing baseball, but I wasn’t athletically gifted; Batting ninth and right field were my lot. I took tennis lessons in high school, as my dad believed that we should do something physical, and not be a total loaf. I was pretty good at tennis, but I didn’t have the killer instinct for me to actually be competitive. After high school, I stopped playing any sort of sport. And then I had a daughter, who now is very into soccer. Which is cool, because I really like watching it. In my kid’s mind, watching soccer must mean that I know how to play soccer, right? I had written a week or so ago about helping the kid get ready for the soccer club try out. I enjoyed that, mainly because I was spending time with my daughter, but it was good being out and active. I also see in her mind’s eye that she is starting to think I am an athletic type of person. I enjoy this admiration I am receiving from her, but I know that in a year of two, it’s going to dawn on her how awkward and uncoordinated I really am.

  • Welcome Back, CUNY! (And some others, too)

    Not sure what is going on, but for almost two years now, at the start of the college semesters, I have a huge uptick in “referrers” coming from CUNY, The City University of New York. (At leasts that what the stats provided from WordPress says…) And these CUNY referrers are looking at only one blog post:

    Short Story Review: “Colorin Colorado” by Camille Bordas

    This is not a complaint, REPETE, this is not a complaint…

    Now, I get all this traffic from the CUNY referrers, but no one leaves a comment, or gives a like, or does anything. I appreciate the traffic; it keeps my numbers up, and one day, I just might earn a dollar from ad revenue.

    Speaking of traffic, thank you to the people he keep reading the ALGOT blogs, and the Face in the Mirror short story review! You are keeping this site alive.

    This is for all of you, but especially the CUNY people…

  • Short Story Review: “Smoke” by Nicola Winstanley

    (The short story “Smoke” is part of Nicola Winstanley’s short story collection, which is entitled SMOKE.)

    I took a writing class, long time ago, and the professor pronounced to us on day one, that “Your characters are your babies. And if you want to be a good writer, you have to make your babies suffer.” He was a bit dramatic, but academically, his was correct; characters have to be knocked down to make their eventually rise have any dramatic or cathartic weight. This is not a revolutionary idea, as its just essential to storytelling.

    Nicola Winstanley isn’t afraid to make her characters suffer. In her title story, “Smoke,” she allows the nine-year old Amanda to suffer, but also shows us the suffering of her family, and how each of their own pain affects and inflicts on the others. As the story begins, children are being called home for supper by their mothers, but Amanda’s mother has recently passed away, so no one is calling for her. At home, her older sister Judy, dealing with the loss in her own detached way, instructs Amanda to make herself a dinner of toast, as that is all the food in the house that their father has left for them. They tell themselves that their father is still at work and will be home soon. Eventually, he does come home, but its late, the children should be in bed, and he seems aloof to how to take care of two daughters, let alone himself. What follows is a story about a family dealing with grief, but the focus is on Amanda and her wrestling and discovery of the emotions she is experiencing – as for a nine-year-old, these emotions are just beyond her ability to articulate and understand them, but her feelings are strong enough to engage her to action.

    At times I felt that this story was brutal in its honesty. Amanda at first believes that her mother has just gone away, as if there was a chance for her return, but Amanda’s actions betray this belief of hers. Winstanley marvelously illustrates how Amanda does everything in her power to keep the loneness and the emptiness within her at bay, but Amanda is a child, and handles these complex feelings as a child would – playing with a friend, eating sweets, hiding from her sister, and waiting for her father to return. All for not, as slowly it dawns on Amanda that she is alone.

    The other touch that I enjoyed with this story was how the other two family members dealt with their own grief. Judy’s reaction is to leave this home, and stay with a friend’s family. Maybe Judy is saving herself, finding a way to survive this situation, but to do that she has to abandon her sister. And then there is their father, who’s way of coping is to not be in the home, which clearly no longer feels like a home. Though the story never goes into detail what is keeping their father away, it’s a question that I never felt needs to be answer. No, he is looking out for himself as well, because Winstanley drops an illuminating point, by observing that while the girls are going without, he has time to get new glasses for himself.  From this point, Amanda begins to spiral down, and it is painful to watch. She doesn’t have clean or good fitting clothes. There isn’t enough to eat, and she goes to school hungry, and without a lunch. She finds some sympathy with other children, but she also finds unwanted attention from the local teenagers.

    And here the story takes a turn, in a direction I wasn’t fully expecting; Amanda tries to find her way out of where she’s at. Maybe she doesn’t fully understand why she’s doing it, but we know. The need to sleep in the same bed with her father. The attempts to clean their home. Amanda tries to eat better, and be better. Amanda doesn’t give up, she tries, she fights for security, and to keep the loneness away.

    With the end of the story, and the reconciliation between Amanda and her father, I felt that these characters were now seeing each other, acknowledging that they need to and can do better. But… but there is a melancholy to this ending. The damage has been done. The trauma has been created. These few days of this story might be some of the most impactful days of her life. I felt that at the conclusion of this story, I knew Amanda would be okay, but it would be a journey where she would have to deal with her feelings of abandonment, neglect, food anxiety, authority figures, and shame. There was such a hopeful melancholy with this story, that I just felt crushed by a feeling of compassion for these characters.

    It wasn’t the reaction I was expecting, but as the days went on after reading this story, I kept thinking about Amanda, and how this story very quietly illuminated the exact moment in this person’s life where they stopped seeing the world as a child does, and started taking the first steps toward understanding the world of adulthood.

    Nicola Winstanley made her baby suffer. Yet, Amanda came out on the other end. It was hard at times reading certain passages, and not because something shockingly brutal happened. No, difficult to read because I know that those little indignities that happen in childhood, those are the deepest cuts that take a lifetime to deal with. Maybe I would prefer to be the kid eating sweets, trying to ignore that pain deep down. Nicola Winstanley had the courage to confront that pain, and let Amanda start her healing.

  • OASIS Reunion: Take My Money

    Hey Everybody! OASIS is getting back together!!!

    This news was such a big deal that I got an alert on my phone from The New York Times.

    And when we all say that OASIS is getting back together, what they mean is that Noel and Liam Gallagher are getting back together. I am sure that Paul and Paul, Tony, Alan, Gem and Andy are wondering if this includes them.

    I’ll be honest, I didn’t think Noel and Liam would ever get back together. They just seemed like John Fogerty types. You know, complete assholes, but really talented assholes. The type of assholes that would refuse to reunite just to piss the other one off, even though deep down, they really wanted to get back together.

    I’ve already texted friends this morning, asking that if OASIS comes to the US, who would be interested in going to see them. I got one yes, so far.

    My first concert was OASIS; It was 1996 at the Bronco Bowl in Dallas, TX. See, I have personal history with them.

    I had got their first album when it came out. I liked it, it wasn’t a classic or anything, but I played that album often. Then, and I don’t remember how, magazines or MTV News, but I started getting word that OASIS was recoding a new album, out in the Fall of 1996. I kept scanning the radio, and record stores trying to find out when this album was coming, and what the first single would be. Something about this time in my life, I was very locked into bands. One of the record stores I found had CD singles imported from England, and I gobbled up as many as I could get my hands on. Then, finally, the “Wonderwall” single came out, and I got the George Harrison reference. I bought (What’s the Story) Morning Glory the day it was available. I listened to that thing pretty much non-stop. I made my friends listen to it non-stop. I bought the CD singles so I could have the bonus B-side singles that were just as good as the album tracks, but these were songs that would never make it on any album.

    And then the concert tour was announced, and my best friend got us tickets. We sat on those tickets for like four months. I circled the date on my wall calendar, April 20th.  And I kept my ticket in a ziplock bag, which I kept in my dorm room desk drawer. I would look at that thing daily. Counting down until when I would be in the presence of one of my favorite bands.

    Then there was the fact that me and my best friend made a whole weekend out of it. I stayed with him in Dallas, we drank a little too much. The anticipation of the day of the concert. The waiting in line to get into the venue. Getting to our seats, but standing the whole time. Then the lights went down and everybody lit up; cigarettes and joints all over the place. And just being on this completely euphoric music high, present with 5,000 other people who loved this band, the songs, and their attitude.

    Now, I’m not stupid here. There is no way I will ever get that feeling back. It is a great memory that lives in my past, and it is great to reminisce with my best friend about going there, and doing that. It was a moment in time that is cherished, but ultimately just that; a moment.

    Besides, let’s see if the Gallagher brothers can make it through these shows in 2025 without killing each other. That’s the real question.

  • In Demand Primary Caregiver

    The goal over the past few days was to get the kid healthy enough to head back to school on Monday. That meant sticking to the medication schedule, no missed doses, and staying hydrated and getting enough sleep. The kid hadn’t ran a fever since Friday, but there still was a cough. The advice from her doctor was that if the fever was gone for 24+ hours, then she wasn’t contagious and she could return to school.

    Mission accomplished; The kid returned to school this morning.

    Unfortunately, there was a trade off, and that was the wife got sick. Not as bad as the kid, but low fever, body aches, and general exhaustion. That poor gal has been doing her best to rally, but honestly, she just needs to rest. I have her back in bed, curled up with a blanket, and I bring her coconut water, and toast.

    All the while, I need to keep my ass clean and healthy. Somebody has to keep this home running.

    And that is my job. I am a stay at home parent; stay at home dad; primary caregiver. And I do enjoy it. I didn’t think I would be here, and nor do I know how long I will get to be here. Two incomes would make our life easier, and though blogging and writing short stories for online magazines is one most lucrative side hustle out there, the financial windfall has yet to break my way. Putting a coat and tie on, and going out in the world and earning money still might be in my future.

    But at this moment, where I am right now – I make sure people get out the door on time, and the bills are paid, and meals are planned. Lunches get made, and the kid gets dropped off/picked up. I get time. Time to be with my wife, and time with my daughter. I get time to write little ditties like this, and see if someone out there might find this a little funny.

    I’m not blessed. Just lucky.