Thanks for the update

I have been sleeping really well for the last few months. I don’t mean to sound surprised by this, but given the fact that I will be un-employed in a little over two months…shouldn’t my sleep be affected? Two weeks of vacation over the Christmas holidays was really nice and I got very well rested. We stayed up late and jumped out of bed at the crack of 10:30! We drank a bunch of really special coffee and sat around and just talked. I spent a lot of time reading, often when everyone was asleep, and sometimes with earplugs in front of the television. I know that sounds weird, but just one’s physical presence makes a difference in the mood of the household. Oh, and I don’t like murder/crime TV shows anyway.

But I have also been sleeping with my ear plugs. I usually save this for allergy season because this is the time my wife chooses to harvest her timber, but lately I’ve used them just because. Those chain saws and log trucks make sleep difficult and I hate a day of work after a fitful night of attempted sleep. Ear plugs are great. I have quite a bit of “head noise” in my old age and when I first started using the plugs it sounded like I needed to back away from the microphone; too much feedback. This is probably caused by either noisy machinery or loud music; it’s a shrill ringing. At first I expected to open my eyes and see a television test pattern, (jump right up and show your age), but eventually I got used to it and it became a comforting background noise.

But sleep this deep causes me to not remember my dreams quite as well as I usually do; I guess I sleep right through them! But when I do remember the dream, it sticks with me for a while. I have my normal pre-sleep routine that I practice every night without fail. As I say my prayers I always ask to not be disturbed by my dreams and to not be given one that I don’t understand. This works for me most of the time and I have gotten well practiced in using them to solve problems. Then right in the middle of everything great, I get an old fashioned visit!

His first visit was only a couple of days after he died. Physically it wasn’t him, but one look in his eyes and I knew exactly who he was. It was great! I understood that he was fine, and while I still missed him dearly, I no longer worried for him. Thanks. I had one more in the next few days and then he was gone; question and answer session over. I understand that if you told me everything you would have to kill me, so I appreciate what you give. Last night was great because I didn’t ask for it and I didn’t expect it. Everybody loves a good surprise! I wish I could still scratch your belly every night like I used to, but I’ll take what I get. Come by anytime, I’ll leave the light on.

Good Morning

I dropped my daughter off at the high school this morning and after cautiously navigating the parking lot crowded with our newest fleet of drivers, I headed for the main highway. It is interesting to watch a crowd of sixteen year olds park every morning, and to say that I am extra careful is an understatement. I shudder to think that in little more than a year my daughter will be one of them, but what do you do? I will add that after leaving the high school I have to merge with the college drivers leaving the student housing, so there are a few minutes of breath holding before I reach the main road.

This morning was typical; I left the parking lot and just before I reached the highway a car from the student housing jumped out in front of me. There was no mistaking that this was a student. His car was basically a collegiate uniform item; A Subaru with a ski rack on top and bumper stickers and decals literally blacking out the back glass. He supported peace of all types and was in love with several bands with names so random and irrelevant I had to move my lips to read them. I thought for a second I was in Athens, but when I noticed the lack of dents in the car, I knew I was not. Still I kept my distance.

As we approached the red light I decided to move a little closer so I could read some of the smaller decals. While I’ve never been the type to apply bumper stickers to my own vehicle, I do love to read them on other cars. Maybe I’ve never loved anything quite that much, but I always worried that I would end up with something like “I’d rather be collecting stamps” or “Hello, my probation officer’s name is…” Something stupid and dated. But as I got closer I noticed a decal that took my breath. It was one that my little brother and I used to tag things (Ok, now the call it graffiti) with thirty years ago! We invented it I’m sure, and the fact that it made absolutely no sense made it even better! Stop, thief!

Well I got over that emotion pretty quickly and just headed home. I’d love to think that someone saw this “ornamentation” a few years back and thought it was as cool as we did. Maybe they’ve had it in their head after a trip to Jacksonville Beach more than a few years back, or maybe they just thought of it themselves…who knows. Hell, we may have stolen it ourselves! Either way, I like to think that my brother just told me good morning! Good morning to you too.

Big Memories

We had a chance yesterday to visit the first place my daughter called home. The first placed she lived when we brought the tiny six pound bundle home from the hospital almost fifteen years ago. Her first home and the first real home my wife and I owned together. We rented one when we were first married, and we bought a singlewide trailer to live in while we built this house, but this was our first real home as a family. Even though my daughter was three years old when we moved away, she doesn’t remember living there, at all; I hoped the visit would make something click.

My wife and I hadn’t been there in almost twelve years, so we were excited to visit as well. This is an unusual home in that it was built in an old fashioned way. I touched every board and nail while building it, and really the only thing we hired a subcontractor to do was dig the septic tank. Everything is so specialized and regulated today I’m not sure this is even possible to do anymore, and when I think about the work involved, I’m not so sure it’s a good idea anyway. Toward the end of construction I was beginning to think that I would be buried beside the home instead of ever hanging my clothes in the closet!

Well it didn’t jog any memories in my daughter, but it was certainly memory overload for my wife and me. Of course a few things had been changed, but it was mostly just like we left it; put our stuff back in and we wouldn’t miss a beat. But what seems so weird is that while I remember what it looks like, I couldn’t tap in at all to actually doing any of the work. I couldn’t remember why I had done some of the things I did; it felt like somebody else had done the work. Maybe if I had realized just how much work it was going to be I would have never attempted it in the first place! Kind of like closing your eyes and holding your breath before you jump in the lake. Downplay the effort to be able to complete (or at least begin) the task!

We were kind of quiet on the ride home. I could sense my wife’s mind was racing in all directions like mine was, and I think neither of us wanted to talk. But just before we made it back to our current home she said to no one in particular, “seems smaller doesn’t it?” I just mumbled an “uh huh” or something, but I knew what she meant. Our memories of things make them larger than life. Those mansions our grandparents lived in turn out to be regular little houses; those beautiful motels we vacationed in are now small and dated and that outstanding dinner at a faraway restaurant is simply a meal. Maybe we should not re-visit these places; maybe we should just enjoy the memories in their distorted fashion. Either way, I think this is simply proof that truly loving something makes it large!

Represent!

I love Facebook. I have really enjoyed catching up with some old friends over the last couple of years, and I have made some new ones as well. I guess the biggest surprise was just how funny and articulate some of my friends are. I don’t mean to sound surprised…but I guess I am. One of things I almost never do on Facebook is open a link that takes me somewhere else. Yes, I would like to know the identity of the people looking at my page, and I do wonder what happened to the girl that was driving while texting, but I won’t risk opening the (probably virus infected) link. I broke my rule this morning.

When I saw that the link for “Toddlers and Tiaras: A dollar make me Hollar” was filmed in McIntyre Georgia, I had to take a look. All I can say is you can’t put the genie back in the bottle; Elvis has left the building! I had to laugh even though I see people just like this every day. And yes, there are times when I fit right in with them. Sometimes when we are sitting around the house one of us will say something “extra Southern” and we’ll all belly laugh. You know, laugh and look around to be sure nobody is filming! No reason to give those that live a few miles north any more reasons to think we’re all stupid down here.

But why is it that a person that has a Boston accent so thick that only their mother can understand them doesn’t sound stupid? They just don’t. Maybe it’s the same phenomenon as when you hear your own voice on tape…is that what I sound like? I don’t know, but it sure seems like every time a UFO is spotted in the south it chooses to hover over a trailer park? When a natural disaster occurs here the media doesn’t interview the people that live in a gated community, they go for the “representatives”. Like the guy in an Atlanta mobile mansion community that was interviewed after a tornado hit a few summers back, “Hell, these folks ain’t got nothing and they lost that”. What?

I will say that I’m proud of who I am and where I’m from. I’ve traveled around enough to know that there are “characters” in every town and country whether the cameras find them or not. But maybe…just maybe, we should pretend we are giving a book report in front of the class when the camera is pointed our way? Pretend we are saying a few words at an awards ceremony…a funeral? Or maybe we should just be ourselves; the south is crowded enough already!