Archives for June 2007

Pick Up His Leg

Nobody knew that the painter had a prosthetic leg on, at least not until it fell off of him…while he was standing on the ladder.

Fortunately the fearless five-year-old boy had no problem picking up the false leg and returning it to his owner. Who was that fearless five-year-old? Well, that boy was me.

Of course if I saw it happen now I would still be willing to hop up and grab it, but I won’t lie and say that I wouldn’t laugh. I hope that I wouldn’t laugh, but I can’t guarantee it. I know, it is not very nice but it is kind of funny.

Eight Things About Me

The Babka Nosher has tagged me with the Eight Things About Me Meme. Every time I see the word Meme I imagine some opera singer singing “Me Me Me Me.” Here is some information about me before I start.

Every time I do one of these things I have to decide how to answer the questions. Do I want to try and provide the cool, insightful answer that make people wish they were as cool as me. Do I want to give the funny response.

You know the one that makes you chuckle out loud so that your coworkers know that you are not really working on the spreadsheet you said you were. Or do I go with option three, you know just answer the question.

Babka is a nice lady so I’ll try to set aside my insouciant nature and just answer the questions. Ok, on to the rules:

The Rules are:

Each player lists 8 facts/habits about themselves.
The rules of the game are posted at the beginning before those facts/habits are listed.

At the end of the post, the player then tags 8 people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know that they have been tagged and asking them to read your blog.

Ok, I tag my entire blogroll, the blogosphere and anyone else who might be interested in this. Ok, that is not really fair, but it is close to midnight and I don’t have the energy to think about tagging.

1) Can I use my intro for this one. You know about how I decide to answer memes. No really, I mean it.

2) If I had a hammer, I’d hammer in the morning. I’d hammer out danger and I’d hammer out warning. But mostly I’d hammer copies of The Sound of Music. Feh on that movie.

3) I was on my high school swim team. By the time I hit my senior year I had a full set of washboard abs and bodyfat that was around 9%. Vain old Jack pulls out that picture and stares at it as incentive to get back into shape.

4) When I play Hearts I always try to shoot the moon. I have a gambling streak a mile wide in me, but I don’t go to Vegas all that often.

5) If I was one of the Wonderpets I’d be the Turtle. He is cool. If I was a Backyardigan I’d be Tyrone. If I had to be one of the characters on Sesame Street I’d be in trouble. I can’t decide if I want to be Oscar, Ernie or Cookie Monster.

6) I don’t know how to play a musical instrument but If I could I’d want to play the guitar and the piano. Ok, maybe the bugle too. I’d belt out reveille outside of my friends homes. I am a giver.

7) I have 7 other blogs and practice writing in different voices.

8) I’d like to live to be a thousand or so. I figure that would give me enough time to live in all the places I want to visit, try all the careers that interest me and then no one would give me a hard time about having had 17 wives.

I Still Look For Him But He Is Not There

It is 366 days since I said goodbye to my grandfather. A year and a day. My life is so very different in so many ways. It is not a secret to say that I miss him. I do. We shared more than a surname. We spent so many hours together. There are endless stories that I could tell about him. My grandfather was a colorful man who lived life.

He lived. He loved. He was. And in many ways he still is.

Sometimes I pick up the phone and start to dial his number because I want to tell him about my day or ask him for his advice and then I remember that he is gone and I stop. To paraphrase Bogart in Casablanca I am sure that I look like a guy standing with a comical look on his face because his insides have been kicked out.

Grandpa wouldn’t appreciate all the fussing over him. He wouldn’t want me to feel badly about his having died. If I close my eyes I can see him smiling at me, a twinkle in those baby blues. That twinkle used to get him in trouble because you just couldn’t help but wonder what he had done. I am told that I have the same thing.

But this is my blog and my thoughts. I like sharing memories with my father about grandpa. It is nice to hear his memories but sometimes it is hard too because I see the pain in his eyes. At grandpa’s funeral my dad said that he had lost his hero and that is true. I know it is because my father is my hero too, so it makes sense to me.

Sometimes when I walk into my parent’s house I go looking for him. He spent the last few years of his life living in the room that I grew up in. Sometimes I close the door and just sit there, trying to catch a glimpse of him. Sometimes I think that I can smell his scent.

I have had a few dreams about him. I remember bits and pieces of them. He protected me from something, can’t really say what because I don’t remember. I just know that he did. I don’t if it was real or not because it makes me feel good.

What I know for certain is that as long as we don’t forget him he won’t ever really die. My son still looks at the pictures we took, four generations of the men of our family. He asks me to always tell him stories so that he won’t forget who he was.

It would be easy to write more, but I think that is enough for right now. Time never stops moving and much as we might to stop it we can’t. All we can do is live the best way we know how.

The Shack Speaks- A Round Up of Posts

Decided to provide a round up of posts that have appeared here:

What Qualities Should a Rabbi Have?

If Life Ended Today What Would You Regret

A Question About The Dead

Frantic Blogging Comments

My Son & The Strip Club


Where Are You From?


Morality Without Religion- A Comment to The Self-Righteous

Haveil Havalim #106- Terrible Twos Edition

Filed Under What Was She Thinking

The Sound of Music Sucks

I Am A Master Of Yard Work

You can call it Jack Versus The Oleander. Located in a corner of my yard there is a large Oleander with shrubitude. For years now it has loomed menacingly over the yard, a threatening presence. The only thing that held it in check was its healthy fear of my shrub cutting skills.

Armed with a lopper I can do an enormous amount of damage, especially when provoked. For a while there was a standoff. The Oleander maintained its position but only because every so often the lopper and I would engage in a little chop-off round the perimeter. But I think that we both knew that one day it would come to blows.

Sometime last fall the old lopper gave it up the battle. It crapped out, bought the farm, met its maker. Yes, I know that I am going on about a yard tool, but sometimes a tool can be more than just a tool.

I couldn’t help but mourn the loss of the lopper. It took close to six months for me to go out and find a replacement. Koheleth said that for every thing there is a season and now is the season of the lopper.

Earlier this week I paid a visit to Home Depot with the intent to purchase a lopper and nothing more. Sadly the Depot Demons got a hold of my wallet and I was forced to purchase other items but that is a story for a different day. On this day I shall only speak of the lopper, the mighty lopper.

If I didn’t know better I would say that the Oleander shrank back in fear of the lopper for it knew that in my hands it was a mighty tool. And in a matter of a few hours that overgrown Oleander shrank in size. It went from being Big Plant On Campus to just a mere shrub again.

Ok, enough of this nonsense. Apparently this is what happens when I spend 1,987 hours doing yard work in the sun.