Blog

  • Two Years From My Mother’s Passing

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    Two years ago, today, my mother passed away. It happened too fast. In June
    she had a funny feeling in her throat when she swallowed. In August, she was diagnosed
    with a tumor in esophagus and lung. In late September she when in fir a surgery
    to remove the mass from her lung. Her three day stay in the hospital turned
    into a week. The next week her lungs started to fail. Then she was moved to
    hospice, and died on a Sunday morning.

    In five months, everything changed. It was awful, and hard, and none of us
    in the family have yet found solid ground under our feet. But we were reminded
    how strong our family bond is. We were all there for our Dad, and for each
    other.

    Last year at this time, I was a sad angry wreck. I have a great wife that
    gave me space, and time, and allowed me to grieve the way I discovered that I
    needed.

    This year, I felt I was handling it well. It wasn’t a matter of seeing the
    date coming up on the calendar, but more like I could feel the date coming in
    me. And yesterday, it was an anxious feeling, not knowing how I would feel or
    react to this day. I think I am dealing with it better than I thought.

    Today is a sad day; melancholy and sluggish. I did speak to my father; which
    I am sure my brothers did the same thing. I wouldn’t say that we are getting
    better, or that it hurts less. It’s a part of me. It is a part now that reminds
    me to love those in my life, and to let them know.

  • Playing with Dolls

    So, we are doing the remote school thing for my daughter. It is not idea in anyway, but we are making the best out of it, and we do have a really good teacher we all like.

    Today, we ended up have a long break between video classes, and the kid wanted us to play something together. Let’s play with my Barbies, was what my daughter suggested, and ever since she turned five, this has been a common request. I am happy to oblige in the make believe. I mean, I’ve played spaceship, pirates, and she has endulged me with making a few puppet shows. All of this to me falls under the respobilities of being a father.

    As we were playing with my daughter’s dolls, a memory shot back into my mind that I had completely forgotten about. I remembered being about eight years old, riding my bike through the neighborhood with some other friends on a random day after school, and my friend Kevin told me that this one kid who lives up the street, this kid plays with Barbies. I remembered the shock and feeling embarrassed for this boy. That this boy had crossed some social line, and it must be a huge secret this boy was trying to hide. That this kid had some huge burden on him. But I don’t remember anyone ever bring it up to this kid. It was just a known secret.

    I don’t remember when boys playing with dolls stopped being a big deal. I know in high school it wasn’t an issue anymore, as the group I hung with were all outcasts, artists, and theatre people, and being different was celebrated, and valued. I think nowadays, people would be shocked if a parent took dolls away from their son who wanted to play with them.

    Maybe, there has been some progress against toxic masculinity.

  • Dance of the Parked Cars

    We have a car in the City. It is something that I thought we would never really do, but here we are. To be honest, it’s been great having the car. It has been our release valve with the pandemic, just allowing us to get out of the City, regardless if we actually get out of the car, and just drive around. It has helped in running errands, and we have even helped friends out when they needed a quick ride.

    But as with all good things, the is always a downside.

    And that would be parking on the street.

    I just dread having to park the car. Not only am I a horrible parallel parker, but it is a level of Lord of the Flies out there for a spot.

    But the bane, demon curse of my life is Alternative Side Parking! Here are the current NYC Rules, and I fear when things go back to normal. Currently, I have to go out once a week and move the car, and the dilemma I am in is whether to sit in the car, and wait for the street sweeper to come, move the car out of the way, and then back into my spot. That sounds simple, but it could mean that I have to sit in our car for an hour and a half. Or, I can leave my spot and see if I can find one where the sweeper has already gone through, which is a risk, as that could take five minutes, or one time took me an hour and a half to find a spot.  

    What is really interesting, and I should take a pic of it, are the people who line up their cars on the opposite side of the street, waiting for the sweeper to go by. There are guys smoking in their cars, or reading the paper, neighbors talking to each other, sharing coffee. It appears to be such a feeling of community and neighborliness fraternity on those blocks, that it does make me envious for their parking reality.

  • Writing That Nevers Sees the Light of Day

    Everyone is an artist, or at least has the potential to be an artist. I think the unifying idea is creation to express emotion. In that sense, just about anything can be an artist endeavor. Thus, the world of self-expression.

    Sharing art with others for monetary compensation is a whole other ball game. Making art that sells is a tough trick, and not everything created is meant to be consumed.

    If we are to go down a cliché route, such as dance as if no one is watching; write as if no one will read it, right? What was it that Stephen King said, write the books you want to read.

    I know that I have stated that one of my goals is to be a paid write that can earn enough to replace this computer that I am writing on. The other goal is to just complete a project. I started something, followed it through, and finished it. With the world the way it is, I think I just need a personal win.

    That leads me to believe that what I complete will be something that is awful, and will never see the light of day. And that’s okay. I remember that John Lennon said you have to write a lot of bad songs before you can start writing some good songs.

    I also remember what I tell my kid everyday, you got to practice if you want to get good at something. I might get lucky, but I might also just might be getting my practice in.

  • New Writing Schedule, and Some Inspiration

    Well, the good news is that I think we are finally coming to an understanding of what our daily schedule will be with the wife working at home, the kid remote schooling, and me floating around all of it, while writing when I get a chance.

    I can write this, a blog, when the kid is “in class” and my involvement is at a minimum. Writing in the journal is still during park time, which gives me a solid thirty minutes. Working on fiction is happening during the kid’s hour of TV time in the later afternoon. In the end, I get about two hours of writing during the week. Clearly, I would like more time, but this, right now, is keeping the balancing act working. With this tentative schedule in place, I am feeling a bit more relaxed, and have a reasonable expectation of what I can accomplish in a given week.

    The bonus effect of establishing this “schedule” is that I am now finding that I am inspired to go back to old ideas, and flesh them out more. Notes and sketches that I tucked away months and even years ago, have sprung to a new life, and are interesting to me again. I found myself working on an old story that I had shelved about a year ago, because I thought the idea had run out of steam.

    This isn’t really surprising, nor a revelation, but I had lost inspiration and drive of late. Small changes can make a difference. I have to remind myself that this is a marathon, and will take more time than even I expect.