Author: Matthew Groff

  • Nothing Particular

    The domesticity of my life has taken precedence today. Meaning that I had to make a meal plan for the family, and then go grocery shopping. The chores that need to be accomplished for the stay at home parent. I’m not complaining about these tasks, but I was bad at planning them this week. Normally I make the plan and shopping list the night before, so that I can go take care of it as soon as I get done dropping the kid off at school. Thus, freeing up the rest of the day for things I want to do.

    So, I got a late start today, and as such, I am writing later than I was planning. Some days are like that. Some days are just go go go, and I don’t get what I want. It has to be delayed, because I’m a grown up, and that’s what life is sometimes like for a grown up.

    And as I ran my errands, walking through the Upper West Side to get to the Trader Joe’s, the pang of missing my mother hit me. Not crushing, but just that a pang because out of nowhere, I thought about her stuffed peppers that she used to make, and home the smell of those peppers cooking would permeate the entire house, and how I hated that smell as it informed me of a meal that I wouldn’t enjoy, but there was no sense in complaining. The rest of the family loved it, and I was the odd man out that would have to put up with it. And even if my mother magically came back and made stuffed peppers for me, I still would not eat it. That meal sucked.  

  • Sunday Serenity

    I had a very strange feeling come over me this past Sunday. It wasn’t a special Sunday by any stretch. We did things that we normally did. The wife and I were up at 7:30, and the kid rolled out of her room at 8. We watched Sunday Today, then at 9 we switched over to Sunday Morning. The wife made pancakes, and I walked the dog. We ate breakfast on the couch watching the interview with Liza Minnelli. When Sunday Morning was over, the kid disappeared into her room to play while the wife and I watched the last thirty minutes of This Week, and then at 11 changed over to hate-watch Meet the Press. Then at 11:30, we put a John Coltrane radio playlist on the speakers, while we started to clean the apartment.

    And while I was cleaning the kitchen, this feeling of peacefulness came over me. I felt secure and happy, which is something that I hadn’t felt in a long time. There wasn’t anything magical or profound happening other that the weekly routine that we follow on a Sunday. It was also a feeling of satisfaction.

    If I was being cynical, then I would say that as I have gotten older, my expectations have fallen, and basic and easily completed tasks have taken on an outweighed significance in my life.

    That is possible.

    Or, it could be that family life has become rewarding in its simplicity. Not that I have stopped being ambitious, or striving for a better day, but I think I have enough perspective to see that in my current state, I do have something special and worthwhile.

    Maybe it was the reward of honest work, which has an honest reward in providing a safe, clean home for my family.

    Maybe my attitude toward life has been slowly changing, and only now is it registering.

  • Losing a Best Friend

    Yesterday, my Uncle Arnie passed away. He was my godfather, and he was goofy, silly, and had a very original midwestern accent that I have never been able to replicate. He was a good uncle, a great father, a dedicated husband, and he was my dad’s best friend. They grew up together, and in a funny twist of fate, they ended up marrying sisters, which meant they legally became family to each other. They liked martinis, and in family gatherings, sometimes they had to be separated at the table, because they could be a little rowdy and obnoxious. You know, just like best friends do. My heart just breaks for my Aunt Margaret, who lost her best friend, too. He was a good man, and he will be missed greatly.

    Then the other day, a friend from high school posted that another classmate of ours had died. My friend wrote a very moving post in Facebook, talking about how close they were in school, and even when they followed different paths and lived in different places, they stayed in contact, and stayed close. You could feel through her words how devastated she was in his passing, that there was a hole in her heart now.

    So, best friends, old friends, have been on my mind this weekend. We all make friends, and then those friends end up becoming family. And I miss my friends. I think what I miss most is just listening to them tell me about their lives. Their loves and adventures and experiences. To make them laugh, and vice versa. It is a motley crew of people we choose to share our lives with. Some for a short while, some forever. A friendship really is one of the greatest gifts you can give to someone.

  • ODDS and ENDS: Sounds of the City, No Vax Athletes, and Tottenham

    ODDS and ENDS is my continuing series of random thoughts and follow ups…    

    Last night, or I guess early this morning, at about 5am, I heard this faint sound of a bell ringing. Like one of those school bells; metal and red, with the piercing sound that tells you class is over, or this is a fire drill. This bell sound wasn’t close to our apartment, but it present enough to not be ignored. I got back to sleep, but when I woke up to my phone alarm, that ringing was still going. Things could have been worse. I remember when I moved to this neighborhood, and would routinely get woken up by car alarms. Also, I am very glad that car alarms has gone out of fashion.

    Novak Djokovic got his visa revoked again in Australia, for many reasons, but mainly for not getting vaxed. I think everyone should get vaccinated, but if you don’t want to, be upfront about it. Also, you have to come to terms with the fact that your choice has consequences. Like, a whole nation saying you have to be vaccinated to come in. Or, a sports league saying you have to be vaxed if you want to participate in all aspects of the league. I hold to this; if Novak was a stocker at the local CVS, making minimum wage, and he refused to be vaxed, his ass would be fired same day, and no one would give a shit.

    Tottenham has to beat Arsenal this Sunday if they want to salvage their season. Spurs have to start beating top 5 teams, or they will lose Harry Kane this Summer. There, I said it, I have no regrets, and if you look at my track record with Premier League predictions, it, most likely, will be wrong.

  • Go to Work

    When I was in high school, I had a Humanities teacher tell me a story about Edward Hopper. Later in Hopper’s life he gave an interview, and the reporter asked if Hopper enjoyed the process of creating his work? To which Hopper answered; No, because it’s hard work. Hopper got kind’a cranky later in his life, but I liked how honest his response was. Sometimes hard work isn’t fun, and also, being creative isn’t a joy either. I am very glad that Dr. Tripp told me that story, as it has stuck with me for twenty-eight years.

    This also reminds me of the debate I would get into while in college studying theatre. There were two camps of thought in class; the planners and the improvers. You had to fit into one of them. If you were planning out things, then you weren’t in the moment, but if you were improving all the time, no one could plan on what you would do next which really pissed off the technicians and designers. And round and round it went. I found improvers to be selfish, they were people who didn’t want to be told what to do. But planners lacked a spontaneity in their work.

    The truth, I found out in the real world, is that you have to be a little of both.  

    Oh, I was a planner, in case anyone one was wondering.

    But it is about each person figuring out what their process is. Such as, the other night the wife and I were asking each other about our day, and I told her I was feeling frustrated that I haven’t been able to work in the way I feel I need. What this boils down to is that I’m not allowing myself dedicated time to work. I can journal, and I can blog, but I keep placing fiction last, and with the least dedicated time for it.

    And I have I mentioned that I’m not the best husband. I work at it, but I’m still not the best.

    What my wife suggested was that maybe I should try what our friend, who is a published writer, does which is write at the library. This is probably the third or fourth time my wife has suggested this to me in the past year in a half, and this time, it sunk in. She went on to say that I should schedule the time at the library, and then build the rest of my day around that.

    I did get very lucky in landing my wife.

    What she suggested doesn’t sound like fun, it’s work. And I think that’s what I need. I have to plan my creative time. I have to go to work.