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 March 2010

Seeking Closure

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We started a story
Whose end must now wait

And, tell me
When will our eyes meet
When can I touch you
When will this strong yearning end
And when will I hold you again
Weekend In New England- Barry Manilow

“In a world of doubt and fear
I wake at night and reach to find you near
Lost in a dream, you caught me as I fell
I want more than just a dream to tell”
Happy-Bruce Springsteen

Hello. How are you?
Have you been alright, through all those lonely lonely lonely lonely lonely nights
That’s what I’d say. I’d tell you everything
If you’d pick up that telephone yeah yeah yeah

“Hey. How you feelin?
Are you still the same?
Don’t you realize the things we did, we did, were all for real, not a dream?
I just can’t believe
They’ve all faded out of view yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah”
Telephone Line- Electric Light Orchestra

“If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me
And just forget the world?

Forget what we’re told
Before we get too old
Show me a garden
That’s bursting into life”
Chasing Cars- Snow Patrol

“don’t give up
you still have us
don’t give up
we don’t need much of anything
don’t give up
’cause somewhere there’s a place
where we belong”
Don’t Give Up- Peter Gabriel (with Kate Bush)

Your name is Johnny and you are back inside your cave. It is a poorly lit garage that is filled with weights, furniture, tools and a beat up heavy bag that you use to pound out your frustration. On one hand you are a contradiction, Eminently patient, exceptionally confident and in tune with the world around you.

Life hasn’t always gone the way you want it to but you don’t care because you believe in your heart that you can and will control your destiny. It might take some time to make it happen, but it will happen.

But then again you are also fighting the soft whispers of insecurity. Little voices that say that it is great that you have these plans but that they really are nothing more than illusions of grandeur. So some times you stare in the mirror and wonder if you are delusional fool who needs to be medicated.

At the moment you are circling that worn heavy bag. It is filled with sand and is supposed to weigh 200 pounds but you are not really sure if that is true because once you start throwing combinations it has a habit of moving around. You want to believe that it really does weigh that much. You like the idea. Your active imagination can hear Howard Cosell standing outside the ring, calling out ” Down Goes Frazier” not to mention Ali, Tyson, Foreman and for good measure Joe Louis.

You’re feeling more than a little frustrated and just a little confused. There is a war going on between your heart and your head. June is on your mind again and you’re not sure what to do. She left a long time ago amd didn’t give you a reason to hang onto hope that you’d see her again.

Under other circumstances known as prior experiences you would have sucked it up and walked away. You might not have been happy about it, but you would have walked away. It would have been part ego and part survival, but you would have done it.

The thing is that your heart won’t let go and your gut says that you shouldn’t. You keep hearing her voice talking to you. Little echoes of the past that you hope predict the future. You remember her telling you that you were the love of her life and that nothing could ever change that. The image changes and she asks you to get your head out of your ass and just accept that what you have is real. She knows that you’re scared and she is too. But she tells you to hold onto her and she’ll do the same.

Click, the image changes again. You are getting ready to end things. You don’t want to, but you know that she has things to do and you think that she has to do them without you. She tells you not to give up because you still love each other. You are so very thankful to have found this amazing woman that you heed her words.

Another click and the scene changes again. She is furious with you and screaming. The two of you don’t fight often but when you do it is a knock down bang out fight that you wouldn’t see with anyone else. There is so much pent up passion. But even though it is nasty you always make up. You always apologize and you agree that you trust each other on a deeper level than you have ever tursted anyone else.

And you remember that June told you to ignore her mouth. Those are her words. She has told you that when she is angry she says things and it is ok with you. You love her far too much to just walk away. You can’t imagine your life without her and you can’t remember a time when she wasn’t a part of it.

With a loud scream you throw a haymaker at the bag. The force of the blow knocks it into a shelf and down goes the toolbox. Suddenly you are bent over at the waist, exhausted. Later on the little boy in you will be impressed by how much force you put into that last shot. The weightlifting is working.

But for now you are in a different place. It is months since you last spoke. There have been little murmurs between the two of you, but nothing of substance. You miss her terribly and hope that she feels the same. You suspect that she does. Your heart says that she must and your head agrees, but then again maybe she doesn’t.

You sit down on the cold concrete, take off your gloves and listen to the rest of your workout mix. A drop of sweat slides off of your brow and finds its way into your eye. You appreciate the stinging. Somehow it seems fitting.

With a soft chuckle you look up at the ceiling and guess at the location of the moon. “June, I haven’t any closure. Is that intentional or are you the kind who just can’t say.”

You’re happy that there is no answer because if there was you’d know that you really are crazy. So you close your eyes and inhale through your nose. With a deep sigh you let out the air and shake your head.

The logical analysis of the situation is the same as it has been for months. She is not completely gone but she is not coming back any time soon. In fact, she may never come back. You repeat that to yourself a couple of times and then laugh. You are among the most stubborn people ever made. You won’t let go until you are good and ready.

And that is ok with you. If need be you’ll accept it and move on. You won’t ever forget your June, but you can’t do it on your own. But you’re not focusing on that because it is not part of your plan.

Ah yes, the plan. You are pleased at the simplicity of it. It is called live your life. And that is what you are doing. Not to sound overly new agey, but you are working on yourself. You have a list of things that you want to accomplish and now is the perfect time to do that. If things work out and somehow you find your way  back to each other there will be that much more to discuss. And if it doesn’t, well you haven’t lost time moping over something that you have no control over.

Slowly you stand up and smile. Life isn’t exactly what you want it to be but you feel good because you know that in spite of those soft whispers you are doing all that you can to take control of things. And that is something to be both happy and proud of.

Lost Jewish tribe ‘found in Zimbabwe’

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The BBC reports:

In many ways, the Lemba tribe of Zimbabwe and South Africa are just like their neighbours.

But in other ways their customs are remarkably similar to Jewish ones.
They do not eat pork, they practise male circumcision, they ritually slaughter their animals, some of their men wear skull caps and they put the Star of David on their gravestones.

Their oral traditions claim that their ancestors were Jews who fled the Holy Land about 2,500 years ago.

It may sound like another myth of a lost tribe of Israel, but British scientists have carried out DNA tests which confirm their Semitic origin.

These tests back up the group’s belief that a group of perhaps seven men married African women and settled on the continent. The Lemba, who number perhaps 80,000, live in central Zimbabwe and the north of South Africa.

Related links:
Ugandan Jews
The Music of Ugandan Jews

Stumbling Through Life

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( The story continues)
The truth will always come out, or so they had taught us in school. One way or another it would find it’s way to the surface. The problem is that sometimes the truth had all the beauty of a victim of drowning. The weights that anchor the body slip off and it shoots to the surface where it floats and bobs upon the water.

Face up or face down, it doesn’t make a difference until you get close enough to take a closer look. And the smell, the smell is something that you never get beyond. There is a putrid stench that sticks with you, gets locked in the back of your throat and grabs a hold of you like some alien parasite.

Anyway you look at it, that body is not pretty, not graceful, not anything but ugly. And that is what the truth can be like, ugly. Our teachers would have use believe that there was something noble and majestic about it. Movies portray the hero as someone who never falters, who uses the truth to defeat the bad guys. I was a streetwise guy. I knew that the truth was never black and white, that there were shades of gray, but even a mug like me can get caught up believing his own hype.

I wanted to blame the jackass at the ATM for bringing this shit storm down upon my head. If he hadn’t tried to rob us all, if he would have been honest, if he would have done a million other things the girl he shot would still be alive and I wouldn’t feel so miserable.

And then again she might still be alive if I hadn’t reacted like the frightened little boy I had been and maybe still was. If Georgie hadn’t spent years tormenting me, picking, poking and prodding me, she might still be walking. A father wouldn’t miss his daughter and a mother wouldn’t cry herself to sleep.

Maybe if I would have learned how to deal with the bullying I could have stopped myself from just reacting. Goddamn Georgie, he was dead too. Gone for years and still I could hear him mocking me, feel his presence. They say sometimes the absence of someone is palpable. The only thing palpable about Georgie’s presence was that even in death he still walked alongside me.

If I believed in G-d I would have prayed for something, forgiveness, death, anything, something to give me peace of mind. I hadn’t had it since I had left home, if not longer. The very thought of prayer was laughable. Any faith that I had possessed had been beaten out of me.

She was dead because Georgie had proven to me that I was weak and that I was lacking in value and worth. Really it was my fault. Georgie was right, kick a dog enough times and he’ll evolve. He’ll pass through stages of confusion, denial, anger and then he;ll reach a point where he just doesn’t care what happens, he’d just as soon bite you as crap on your porch.

Georgie had made sure that I experienced all of it. He said that he was helping me and I wanted to believe him. He said that he was making me into a man, making me tough enough to deal with a world that bent you over a hot stove and laughed at you.

The first time Georgie beat me I was scared. I didn’t defend myself. I didn’t try to, I just let him kick and punch me. And when he stopped I looked at him through teary eyes, not sure what to expect. He gave me a handkerchief and stuck out a hand to help me up.

I was wiping the blood off of my face when he hit me again. I didn’t see it coming and when I came to I was lying in the dirt and he was gone, as were three of my teeth. Georgie didn’t believe in giving or accepting help, to him it was sign of weakness and he couldn’t have that.

Teaching Children How To Judge Others

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“When we do not know a person — and also when we do — we have to judge his size by the size and nature of his achievements, as compared with the achievements of others in his special line of business — there is no other way.”
– Mark Twain (Christian Science)

And he said: “Son, this world is rough
And if a man’s gonna make it, he’s gotta be tough
And I knew I wouldn’t be there to help ya along.
So I give ya that name and I said goodbye
I knew you’d have to get tough or die
And it’s the name that helped to make you strong.”

He said: “Now you just fought one hell of a fight
And I know you hate me, and you got the right
To kill me now, and I wouldn’t blame you if you do.
But ya ought to thank me, before I die,
For the gravel in ya guts and the spit in ya eye
Cause I’m the son-of-a-bitch that named you “Sue.'”
A Boy Named Sue- Johnny Cash

Earlier this week another driver gave me the finger or maybe it was intended for some other driver. I am not really sure. What I do know is that my son saw it and told me that someone called me a bad word. I asked him what he was talking about and he told me that some man in a truck stuck his middle finger at me.

So I asked him if he knew what that meant and he said that it meant the other guy was saying ” fuck you dad.” I was about to ask him how he knew what the finger was and then I remembered that I had told him about. I wrote about it last year, but I don’t remember where.

I told him that he was correct and then he asked me why I didn’t yell back at him. I told him that I don’t respond to every name or gesture and that since I hadn’t seen it I wasn’t sure if it really was directed at me.

He wanted to know why I would ignore that and we talked about what is worth spending time on and what isn’t. I didn’t tell him that sometimes ignoring someone is far more powerful than anything you can say. Silence is powerful, but that is a different post.

And like so many of our conversations this one zigged and zagged into a variety of related topics and wound up in a slightly different place that I can only describe as how to judge other people. Yep, I talked about judging other people.

Don’t give me that nonsense about how only G-d can judge others because it is not real. We all judge other people. Right, wrong or indifferent we look at others and make decisions about who and what we think they are.

My job as a parent is to help provide some guidance and direction. It is my responsibility to look at the challenges that the kids face and if possible try to help them make the right choices. The hard part is that some of these challenges aren’t simple yes or no, right or wrong situations. Some of them are more complex and require a more sophisticated approach.

And frankly judging people is a critical skill. They will spend their entire lives interacting with people. Friends, family, employers, colleagues etc. They have to have some tools that they can use to help determine whether the people they encounter are good or bad. They need to have some sense of how to evaluate the measure of a politician and a potential friend.

Not to mention that no matter how evolved society may become there will still be comments and assumptions made about people that are based upon their looks, religion, politics and affiliations in general.

I don’t have one foolproof system. I can’t say that I have found any magical way of helping to make these choices. All I have is the mantra, “judge people based upon their actions.” Look at what they do and how. Are they kind or cruel? Do they act the same way all the time or does their behavior change based upon the situation.

While they are young there is more control and greater opportunity help provide the foundation for making good choices. There are children that I have tried to help steer them away from. I don’t have a crystal ball. I can’t say that these kids are necessarily bad but I can say that I see trouble down the road.

I worry when the kids run the house. I have serious concerns about parents who are incapable of discipline and I expect that in a few years they will be very sorry about the choices they have made. I don’t have a crystal ball so I can’t say for certain that bad things will happen but it is not hard to predict.

It is a rough road at times but when I signed up I agreed to ride the roller coaster the whole way through. With any luck we’ll get through it without too many nicks, scrapes and bruises.

Two Kinds of Pain

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( The story continues)

Life offers two types of pain, one physical and one mental. Man still hasn’t found a tougher prison than the one he encages his mind in. There is no greater pain than the mental anguish we inflict on ourselves and there is no tougher warden than the person we see in the mirror. For some there is no midnight reprieve, the governor doesn’t offer clemency. There is only one way out and no two people can share the path.

We all live in our secret worlds, but some of us never have the strength to leave our shelter and walk under sunny skies.

I used to.

I used to live in a place I called paradise. I could look out on the world and from my window and gaze upon waters that called out to me. Deep blue seas that embraced me like a child in the womb. The seas were always calm and at night they would gently rock me to sleep.

But it wasn’t real. I didn’t live on a boat. I didn’t live on the beach or remotely close to the water. It was all an illusion, a mindfuck that I created to make myself happy. The problem was that I hadn’t realized it. I didn’t have a clue as to how precarious my own happiness was and once that was shattered I knew nothing but darkness. I wandered aimlessly in a fog, not knowing where I was going or what I was doing. It didn’t matter, I didn’t care.

I said it before, there are two kinds of pain and mental is far worse than physical. You can always find a way to escape physical pain, but you can’t run from your own mind. Philosophers had long ago figured out that hell existed, that there was a devil, except he wasn’t a guy with horns, a pitchfork and a tail. The church had made that guy up. The devil was someone familiar with you, someone who knew your most intimate secrets and your darkest fears. The devil knew you, knew how to torment your soul.

The devil knew all this because he was, he is…you.

That’s right, the devil is not supernatural. There is no Lucifer, no Satan, and no Beelzebub. It would be better for us all if he did exist. No, the devil is just a man, a person that lives inside us all.

See when they wrote the bible and told the story of getting banished from the Garden of Eden they were not talking about a mythological place, they were referring to the end of innocence. They were talking about that time when life hits you in the mouth, knocks you down and beats you senseless. They were talking about getting hurt in places that bandages don’t stick, cuts that you cannot stitch, they just keep bleeding. And even if you manage to stop the bleeding that stinging sensation never really does go away.