The JackB

"When you're in jail, a good friend will be trying to bail you out. A best friend will be in the cell next to you saying, 'Damn, that was fun'." Groucho Marx

Archives for January 2010

The Greatest Blog Post Never Written

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This could be the greatest blog post that was never written. It could be magical, amazing and enlightening. This could very well be the one that launches my career as a writer. Well, I should qualify that.I have worked and am working as a writer. This is a different sort of thing that I am referring to.

A post that leads to an opportunity to write a book and to become a published author. I keep dreaming about it. I keep writing about it and wondering how to make it into reality. Do I want to write the great American novel and if so, what do I want to write about.

I can be funny. I could tell a million stories that you make you laugh. Or I can go a different direction and write about the great love that got away. I can make you remember that man or woman you still carry a torch for. I can tap into those feelings and make you ask yourself the uncomfortable question of, “what if.”

But then again maybe it is better to write a book under my role as a father. It could be called “The Dude they Called Dad” and feature me with a very serious and solemn look on my face. Or it could go the silly route, that fits me.

The other day I realized that I have an idea for a line of clothing. If you are one of the three people that know me you recognize how goofy that is. Me, the clothing designer. Ok, it is not really meant to be a designer like you’d see at some fashion show. It is different, but I have a pretty clear idea.

It is an idea that I am going to give life to. I am going to turn take it from something that I play around with in my mind into something that is real, tangible. Damn it, I am going to make it happen for no other reason than I can.

This thing is going to be proof that sheer desire and force of will can make amazing things happen. I am really fired up right now. We’re almost one month into the year of Jack and things are happening, albeit slowly, but they are happening.

It reminds me a bit of moving a heavy object. I have started to rock it back and forth. Slowly the momentum is building and its own weight is beginning to make it move. I just need to generate a little bit more movement and then that sucker will start traveling.

The hard part is not getting started but making sure that I don’t smack into any icebergs.

Well have to see what happens. For now all I can say is that this could have been the greatest blog post that was never written.

Are you There God? It is Me, Jack

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Are you there G-d, it is me Jack. You know, that crazy kid who grew up down the street from you. You remember me, when I was five I got chased down the street by the neighbor’s dog. The same neighbor who gave me that awful Kool-Aid concoction that made me puke through my nose.

Kind of nasty, but when you are five nasty is kind of cool. Gave me some sort of street cred, not that I knew what to do with it.  Or at least I don’t really remember knowing much about it. But maybe I did, maybe that five year old boy knew some secrets that he has since forgotten.

Ya know G-d, I am not all that different from a lot of people. I like to think that I make an impression upon people, that they remember me. You can call it ego, fear or insecurity, but it is just nice to know. I know, I say that I don’t care about any of that. Most of the time I don’t, but I have my moments.

Is it a contradiction? I suppose, but that is ok. Women change their minds all the time and although I am most assuredly male I am happy to write this off as being part of getting in touch with my feminine side. But let’s be clear, I don’t need 2,876 pairs of shoes or want to decorate my home in some sort of flowery motif.

G-d, I have got to tell you that I am not sure how I feel about you these days. Do you have any idea how many friends of mine have died? It started in junior high. You remember that girl that had a seizure in the bathtub and drowned. What was that about? Or what about those kids that died every year I was in high school.

Two neighbors died in car accidents during college another girl that I kind of knew was killed in Europe. Of course we can’t forget about D. He really was like a brother to me. Twenty-nine, why? What the hell is that about.

And then last year three more. Two mothers and a divorced guy. C’mon G-d, WTF is that about. It doesn’t make sense to me.

I mean I understand that when I was 20 it might have been a little forward to ask you to put a good word in with Ann Stacey for me. Ok, I didn’t ask for a good word. I asked you to give me a couple of hours of alone time and promised to close the deal.

Have to tell you that I feel kind of foolish here. I am not sure that you are listening. Can’t say that this is anything but it a very poor attempt to engage in some sort of silly blogging trick. Nah, scratch that, this is something a bit more than that. It is me cleaning out the pipes and stretching my legs a bit.

Not sure if it is working, but we’ll see.

Back To The Hospital…Again

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That tweet was only partially tongue-in-cheek.I made it shortly after finding out that my grandmother had been rushed to the hospital. She tripped and fell late Sunday night and her eye was swollen shut. The docs weren’t sure exactly what was going on and ran a bunch of tests.

My mother called me early Monday morning to fill me in. She told me that the doctors had provided several different options for how to treat grandma. Sometimes conversations about medical issues are simple. You operate because the patient will die if you don’t or you don’t operate because the risk is too high.

You’ll forgive me for not providing all of the details here. It is not really important for you to know and unless you are a medical expert the details won’t make this any more or less interesting. And now back to our story.

Anyhoo, the docs presented my mother with several different options to choose from and reminded her that though they didn’t want to pressure her time was of the essence. And so I found myself doing some basic research on surgeons and the procedures we were discussing.

A short time later I called my mother at the hospital and asked how grandma was doing. I knew from my mother’s voice that things weren’t great. She didn’t try to hide it. If you read The Long Goodbye you are aware that dementia is beginning to steal my grandmother. It is not easy for me to see and it certainly isn’t easy for my mother.

Until relatively recently grandma had been blessed with excellent health. She was very active physically and mentally so it is really shocking to see the changes. All I have to do is read Passing The Baton- Grandma is 94
and I can’t help but shake my head in disbelief.

“Macular degeneration has taken her eyesight and her short term memory is a little rough, but overall she is in really good shape. She told me that she thinks that her age has finally caught up to her. That may or may not be true, but she still exudes quiet strength and she still is among the happiest people I have ever known. If you ask her why she’ll laugh and tell you that life is hard and that is why you have to smile. If you press her to provide a less cryptic answer she will, but that is a story for a different day.”

That is how I think of my grandmother. She tells you that age has caught up and still has more energy than most people, at least she did. That is just not reality anymore.

My children don’t know her like that. They see a different woman than I know. It is life and that is ok, but it makes me a bit sad. I’d write more but it is late so I am going to cut this off here. But before I go I want to share one more excerpt from the post about grandma’s 94th birthday.

“When I dropped them off at their home I had to take a moment. They both hugged and kissed me goodbye, and then without any further ado they held hands and walked off towards the entrance. When I tried to follow them in my grandfather stuck his cane out and told me not to interrupt his time with his special girl and with a twinkle in his eye told me to tell the office that they wouldn’t make it to dinner tonight.”

In a few minutes I’ll go to sleep in my own bed while some miles away my grandmother lies in a hospital bed. Tomorrow I’ll go back and visit her again and hope that she recognizes me. If she doesn’t that is ok, I am a big boy, but I’d be lying if I said that I don’t wonder…

Quality of Life

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Whenever it is that I may die there are certain things that I want to be able to say, need to be able to say.

1) I did my best to help my children gain the skills and character to fulfill their potential and become the people that we all see that they can become.
2) I did my best to live a life that was filled with passion, joy and fulfillment.
3) That I didn’t give into fear or convention. That I didn’t allow doubt and uncertainty to prevent me from achieving and obtaining those things that I desire on all levels. That includes spiritual, emotional, mental and material.

And it is my hope that I am able to do these things while giving more to the world than I take and while causing a minimal amount of damage and destruction. I take seriously the idea of planting seeds so that fruit trees will grow for the benefit of our children and grandchildren.

The path is rockier and stormier than I’d like it to be, but I don’t know any other way. I can only be who I am. But I suspect that if I do these things I will have enjoyed a high quality of life. More to come on quality of life in a later post.

Never take your health or those of families and friends for granted.

Minnie The Moocher Meet My 9 Year Old Son

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I am feeling a bit spent and fighting hard to publish a post that doesn’t make me grit my teeth in disgust. If you follow me on Twitter you know that I survived 1,276 hour slumber party. A gaggle of nine year-olds roamed the hallowed halls of Casa De Jack and did their best to wreck the place.

Ok, that is not fair, they didn’t try to wreck anything, well maybe each other. More than once WWF matches broke out in the bedroom. The grandmothers were none too excited about this and tried to break them up. You would think that since they raised boys they would have understood that wrestling is one of the ways that little boys show affection for each other.

Since they seemed to have forgotten this I made a point of instructing them that “in my house they must follow my rules.” Have to admit that I took great pleasure in telling them this, payback is sweet.

I know all about boys, I am one, albeit far bigger than these guys.

Anyhoo, I figured that it wouldn’t hurt to let them burn off some steam and besides I monitored it pretty closely. Those little lion cubs didn’t do much more than growl and nip at each other a few times. Far more time was spent discussing the finer points of game play on various game systems.

Video games were a big topic. My son had requested that each of his friends bring one of their portable game systems with them.

Initially I was reluctant to agree to the handhelds but it occurred to me that they might be useful in helping to keep the kids occupied, especially if people had trouble going to sleep.

So I told my son that it was cool for the other boys to bring them along provided that we had some other activities for everyone to do.

We ended up with a handful of Sony PSPs and a bunch of Nintendo DS handsets generating all sorts of beeps, whistles and music. While they were playing it was remarkably quiet. Aside from beeps, whistles and the accompanying music there was silence.

Of course when they weren’t playing the games the noise level here made the Superdome in New Orleans look like a monastery. These boys made jet engines sound quiet.

After they had played their games, eaten dinner, built Legos and engaged in all sorts of other nonsense they pulled a move that made my jaw drop. They all changed into their pajamas and laid out their sleeping bags. It was around ten.

For a moment I thought that they were really going to sleep. I suspect that I might have even teared up a bit at the joyous thought of their going to bed at a decent hour. But something happened.

Those boys suckered me. They took a ten minute break from the madness and then let loose with a cavalcade of new games and nonsense.We had planned for this and turned on Empire Strikes Back. I figured that a movie would help calm them down.

I was only partially right. It quieted them down until it ended at which point the jet engine roar resumed. I let it go for a moment or two and then made it clear that it was bed time. Well that lasted for as long as I could stand in the room.

As soon as I left the tittering and giggles would resume. I didn’t want to be the mean father and split them up. Slumber parties are known for this kind of nonsense. I did what I could to help those who wanted to get to sleep do so. Some did, but several did not.

Eventually I found myself sitting on the couch. Somewhere around 1 most of them drifted off and  I made my way to bed. They of course woke up at some ungodly hour and left me groaning and coffeeless.

After they ate me out of house and home the parents picked the little buggers up and I sat on the couch in a daze. Now hours later I know that I must look like some overtired slackjawed fool. Really I had intended to go to sleep hours ago.

I figured that I’d watch Big Love and hit the sack, but I found myself unable to sleep, but exhausted. Would it be wrong of me to call the parents of all of the guests and thank them for sending their boys over. It is only a quarter to one, really, they might be excited to hear from me.

Probably not.

Well, overall it was a success but I think next year I might push for something more tame. I suppose we’ll have to wait and see.

(P.S. I forgot to include the Minnie the Moocher story, will have to do so at a later date.)

Just Another Day

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“When I’m tired and thinking cold
I hide in my music, forget the day
And dream of a girl I used to know
I closed my eyes and she slipped away
She slipped away

It’s more than a feeling
(More than a feeling)
When I hear that old song they used to play
(More than a feeling)
I begin dreaming
(More than a feeling)
‘Til I see Marianne walk away ”
More Than a Feeling– Boston

“(There’s life underground)

I feel it all around / I feel it in my bones
My life is on the line / When I’m away from home
When I step out the door / The jungle is alive
I do not trust my ears / I don’t believe my eyes
I will not fall in love / I cannot risk the bet
Cause hearts are fragile toys / so easy to forget ”

Just Another Day– Oingo Boingo

Sometimes I sit down and type these words and am amazed at the simple truths I learn about myself. The words that appear on the screen illuminate and enlighten me. Now I suppose that to some it sounds narcissistic and superficial, but I would argue that it is not really either, at least not in this context. Because here is where we empty out our mental closet and ask if there is a purpose for the contents contained therein.

These simple truths are my reality check. They are where I confirm whether I am being truly honest with myself. It is one thing to engage in acts of deception and duplicity with others but quite another to do so with oneself. For the lies that we tell ourselves are among the most harmful and the most dangerous.

And that is how I came to realize that I have been fooling myself about many things, but primarily about you.

In the beginning I used my anger to shield myself from the pain of our separation. I tried your trick and made a list of your negative traits and actions. It worked for a very brief time. For a short time it convinced me that none of it had been real. Those feelings were a lie that I have conceived because I had been desperate to find someone like you.

The very thought of being desperate filled me with shame and in turn made me even angrier. That anger was my friend. It cloaked the pain of the loss and made me feel like it hadn’t been as terrible as my heart made it seem.

My heart.

My heart was what made me let go of my anger. It was what told me that I was sad and not angry. So I let go of the anger and tried another tack, to forget.

I thought of the heroes of the music and movies I have loved and made a conscious decision to start walking. I’d walk the other direction and you’d never see me turn my head around to look back. Each day would take me one step further away from you. And with each moment I’d find it easier to forget and easier to just live my life.

That was smart. It was sensible, really the wise and mature move. And so I tried it. I envisioned it as being part of a great adventure. I was a hero who was heading off into the unknown. It didn’t matter what, could have been a soldier going to war or a cowboy out on the range.

The only thing that I cared about was finding a way to keep busy until I reached that moment where I  no longer noticed that you weren’t standing by my side.

It was far harder than I expected it to be. A million little things reminded me of you. Songs on the radio, stories people told, movies, books and more made it virtually impossible to do. I told myself that I needed to just buck up, and keep busy. Promised that every day I lasted would make it easier, little victories that I could build on.

Some days were harder than others. I’d sit on the couch and wonder how I could feel so empty and hollow. It wasn’t time that my heart was broken.I told myself that I had been through it before and that was proof that this would be just another story.

But this was harder because it was the worst.

Time passed and the pain eased. Gradually I began to wonder if it was gone. It happened faster than I expected. It made me sad to say goodbye to the pain. Made me wonder if I had fooled myself. But then I figured that it was silly to over analyze it and I just went about my day.

And then I dreamt about you. It was as vivid and real as any dream I have ever had. It brought it all crashing down upon me. All the memories and all the feelings came storming back. The good and the bad, it all showed up for some sort of crazy reunion.

I could tell you about it. If I wanted to I could share so many details you’d ask if I had made it up. But that would be a betrayal of a different sort. It is far too intimate and not because it is sexual. That intimacy is derived from the sort of mature love that can’t really be explained.

All that took place a while back. I decided that I wasn’t going to make myself crazy by over thinking it. Wasn’t going to try to analyze every little thing either. Haven’t reached out because the unofficial rules of this say that it is not time.

Don’t really have a plan, just going to take it day by day and see what happens. I find it all very curious and wonder if this is the road to wreck or ruin. I suppose that we will find out.

(Not sure where I am going to insert this in Fragments of Fiction)