Archives for January 2011
Fighting The Clock
Sometimes the guys that I play basketball with ask me why sometimes I play like I am possessed and other moments I take a more sedate approach. It is a reasonable question and one that has a simple answer of because I can. It is not really based upon logic or thought but how I feel. I love this game. It is something that gives me great pleasure but it takes a lot out of me. I don’t have a lot of natural talent. What I have is energy and a body that is built for demolition. So I do what I can to leverage my strengths and use them to my advantage.
There is nothing profound or insightful in that. Nor will it surprise anyone to hear that sometimes my more than 40 year old body refuses to respond as it once did. It frustrates me to no end. The mind remembers what the body could do. It demands that it repeat performances given decades before and when it cannot do so it shakes in fury and frustration. So I do what I can to balance my efforts on the court to meet the needs of a particular play, game or moment.
Sometimes in the course of the night I find myself frustrated and or embarrassed by my ability or should I say inability to do what it is I used to do. You can say that to some extent this pushed me to get back to the gym, that it served as the incentive to resume lifting  weights. You can also say that an old man’s ego pushed him to get stronger again. You can say that the old guy was pissed off that a younger man was strong enough to move him on the court so he hit the weights even harder.
In an ideal world I would have hired a personal chef and trainer to work with me, but I don’t live in that ideal world so I didn’t. In this less than ideal world I should have focused on finding a workout partner to push me or at least serve as a spotter, but I didn’t. I established rough goals in my mind and pushed to reach them. Â Wednesday night I played 2.5 hours of ball. When I got home I took a very hot shower and thanked the wall for supporting a body whose legs were angry with him. Later I lay my head down feeling pleased with myself.
Thursday morning I woke up and discovered that both of my knees ached. I was taken aback by this. It is not unusual to feel a little beat up the day after, but my legs had never heart as they did, particularly me knees. I hobbled over the medicine cabinet and popped three Motrin. Not too long afterwards I decided to take my achy legs to the gym.
Frustrated by the refusal of my legs to come back to life I focused on other parts of my body. Â I hit the Bench Press machine and stacked 4 plates on either side. It was a little disappointing. I remember when I could do that using free weights. Of course I was in my twenties and single, but a man’s ego doesn’t want to accept that time has any affect upon him. Still, I decided that I was unwilling to ask for a spotter for fear that I might actually need them to help me.
I suppose that it is a good thing that my children weren’t there as I have taught them to not feel badly about asking for help. Would that I was smart enough to adhere to the principles I am teaching them. But today I just didn’t have it in me to ask for help from a person so I used the machine.
I was able to perform two reps. It was both inspiring and sad. The impatient and unforgiving side of me rolled his virtual eyes and asked why I ever let myself slip so far. He was confronted by the realist who was proud of the accomplishment. Those two reps were significant. Important because I lifted a significant amount of weight and proved that I am making progress, even if it is slower than I wish for it to be.
It was also important because it served as a reminder that it is time to evaluate my plan and take a hard look at whether I am making progress or not. The answer is yes, albeit not as quickly as I would like.
Music To Work By
It is another late night for that rascal Jack. You know, the pretentious guy who talks about himself in the third person. Anyhoo, this my friends is a list of some of what I have been playing/listening to.
Have a Little Faith– Joe Cocker
Lonely Is The Night– Billy Squire
This Time– John Legend
Come Talk To Me– Peter Gabriel
Sweet Child O’Mine– Guns N’ Roses
Without You Here– Goo Goo Dolls
In The Ghetto– Elvis Presley
The Man’s Too Strong– Dire Straits
Slip Away– Clarence Carter
Carolina On My Mind-James Taylor
Institutionalized– Suicidal Tendencies
Bulls On Parade– Rage Against The Machine
El Dorado– Iron Maiden
The Trooper– Iron Maiden
Breaking The Law-Judas Priest
Shaking The Tree– Peter Gabriel
Marry Me– Train
Somewhere In Time
“I look at the world and I notice it’s turning
While my guitar gently weeps
With every mistake we must surely be learning
Still my guitar gently weeps”
While My Guitar Gently Weeps– The Beatles
Johnny sat down at the computer, turned on some music and started typing a letter to June. It was one of many that he had written to her and like so many of the others it was one that he would never send. It wasn’t something that she needed to see. There was no purpose in sending her a letter outlining all the reasons why she had made a mistake. There was nothing to be gained by sending her a weepy love letter in which he tried to convince her to open her heart and come back into his arms.
There was a reason why she was gone and though it was illogical, irrational and foolish there wasn’t any point in chasing her, at least not any longer. He had already tried that. He had written her more times than he could count and called her a thousand times. She didn’t take his call or write him back. There was no reciprocity. It made no sense to keep banging his head against the wall.
She was out there…somewhere. Out there living her life without him and presumably doing fine. Or at least she was doing well enough that she was able to maintain her distance. At least he told himself that this was what was going on. He looked in the mirror and explained to the reflection that her silence was proof that she wasn’t open to his offer. The eyes in the reflection showed a profound and deep sadness in them. They told a story of someone who had suffered a grievous lost and had experienced sorrow. The sparkle that normally there was nowhere to be found, or so it seemed.
Yet there were more than a few moments where Johnny felt that silent tug at his heart that had always told him that June was thinking about him. In the past that silent tug usually preceded a telephone call or email from her. That silent tug was something that they had often laughed about. She had told him more than once that she had never loved a man with the fire and passion that she loved him. She had never felt anything as deep or profound. She was certain that they were meant to be and that not being together would be a terrible tragedy.
The memories of those moments and past conversations made him smile and think. He racked his brain trying to figure out if the echoes of the past we real. He stared off into the depths of memory and studied the past. The goal was to try and figure out if he was seeing what he wanted to see. He wanted to use logic and reason to develop answers to the questions he had.
It would have been great except logic and reason kept bumping into love. Love wasn’t logical and it certainly wasn’t reasonable. He remembered a moment from their past and thought about how he had tried to walk away. He had told her that it made more sense for her to try and find her smile without him. He told her that she couldn’t find the answers she sought with him still around. And in return she had asked him not to go. She had told him that she couldn’t stand the idea of life without him. So he asked her what it was that she wanted and she had replied that she wanted him to keep on loving her.
That was exactly what he had done. He had kept on loving her. He had kept on believing that somehow they would find a way to make it work. He had kept on believing that one day he would figure out the solution to it all. Sometimes he would dream about it and picture how it might happen. He had this silly idea that he would set up a hot dog cart outside of her office. Dressed up as an ordinary hot dog vendor dressed in jeans, a t-shirt and a white apron that was slightly stained with Ketchup he would set up shop each day and sell lunch to the people who walked by.
Eventually she would see him and they would have one of those moments you see in the movies. They would make eye contact and smile at each other. And then magically they would end up embracing and finish it with some sort of kiss that would set off fireworks in the sky. Sometimes the idea made him snort. He made a mental note to try and take off the apron prior to hugging her. It wouldn’t do to smell like ketchup and relish, not to mention it would be hard to be suave and debonair in that stained garment.
Johnny snorted again. The idea was preposterous and so very unlikely it was a waste of time to think about. She had made it clear that he needed to forget about her and if he was smart that is exactly what he would do. That last thought turned the snort into more of a guffaw and he laughed out loud. Laughed because he knew that as long as his heart was at war with his head he wasn’t going to just give up. He simply couldn’t do that.
Couldn’t do it because he was convinced that she wasn’t done either. Her silence wasn’t and indication that she wasn’t interested. It wasn’t proof of anything other than she wasn’t going to make it easy for him. How many times had she told him before that she would never be the first person to say “I love you.” He knew that the sentiment applied to this situation too. At some point in time he was going to have to take action and do something about it.
He wasn’t quite sure what that meant but he wasn’t worried about it. It was just one of those things that he would figure out. He rolled his eyes and grunted something about dealing with crazy women. Good times for certain. Well, time would tell if that one kiss way back when had really changed everything.
A New Milestone
httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7OqwKfgLaeA
“My son turned ten just the other day
He said, “Thanks for the ball, Dad, come on let’s play
Can you teach me to throw”, I said “Not today
I got a lot to do”, he said, “That’s ok”
And he walked away but his smile never dimmed”
And said, “I’m gonna be like him, yeah
You know I’m gonna be like him”
Cat’s In The Cradle- Harry Chapin
I think that I was around 12 or so the first time I remember hearing this song. Â It came out in ’74 so it is entirely possible that I was younger when I first heard it. Â I suppose that it doesn’t matter when I first heard it, but rather when the lyrics started to stick with me. Since I was a kid I suppose that I probably thought of it in context of wanting to be like my own father. I know for certain that the first time I remember feeling anything in response was when we all left for our respective universities.
Or should I say when everyone else left. I was supposed to spend my freshman year in Israel but had to pull out at the last moment and wound up stuck in L.A. At the time that song hit me because I felt very old and a bit unsettled with the changes in my life. I didn’t realize that years later on the eve of my son’s birth I would listen to it again and wonder if it was prophetic.
Now I listen to it with a bittersweet smile on my face, that excerpt above being particularly significant. My son is ten and he still loves to spend time with me, as I do with him. But I find myself struggling to make it all work because I work constantly. It is not by choice but by need. It is a 7 day grind that won’t always be like this, but there are no days where I am not working on something. Â I spend countless hours online working on the various projects that help to pay the bills. I drink enormous amounts of coffee and stay up to ungodly hours so that I can get just a little bit more done.
And in between it all I try to fit in time with everyone else. Not to mention daily trips to the gym and if I am lucky basketball twice a week. The gym visits take place during school hours and are generally no more than 30 minutes. Basketball is at night and not something that I can just walk away from. It is part of how I maintain some semblance of sanity. I can’t keep this pace up without that.
So I look for other moments in time that I can give to the children. Some of those come from my volunteering at the school. I find ways to get there during the day and for a short time I help out. It is not a perfect solution, no panacea for the time I don’t have. But they get to see me there and they understand that I am there because I think education is important.
But lately I have noticed some behavioral changes at school. This ten year-old son of mine is shying away from public displays of affection. He is becoming more self conscious of this and wants to maintain his ability to be cool. Now I have to mask the affection with giant bear hugs that make it look a bit like I am messing with him. At home there is no difference as he is happy to hug and be hugged.
I understand this. I remember being like him and wanting to find a way to be cool. I remember when I started to pull away a bit from my parents. It is normal, natural and most of the time ok with me. Look I would be lying if I said that sometimes it is not hard. It is a reminder that the future is coming on fast and furiously. When he is with a group of friends conversation stops when parents approach.
It is kind of funny to me because their conversations are about Legos, Star Wars, sports and other benign topics. But it is a sign that there is a division, a line that we can’t cross. I am a father, not one of the boys anymore- at least not where they are concerned. Not such a big deal or unexpected, but I didn’t think that time would move this quickly.
We only get to keep them at home for so long. Guess I better work harder at finding more time to spend with them because we’ll blink and they’ll be in college.
The Time To Act is Now
Somewhere across the city a dear friend of mine is watching someone they love die. It is not going to be noble, honorable or brave- at least not in the traditional sense. Or maybe I should say that it is not out of a book or a movie. There is no good reason for this. You cannot provide an explanation that I will accept or offer consultation that is anything other than sometimes life happens.
They don’t know that I am writing this post or sharing this information. In part that is because they don’t read the blog but also because I don’t need to tell them any of this. It has already been shared between us. We have spoken at length about death and he has heard as much as he needs to hear right now. I can’t offer any sort of solace. I can’t fix this for him. I can’t do anything other than be his friend.
Sometimes I think that I am angrier about this than he is. Sometimes I think that I am angrier because I am not sure it is real to him yet. I don’t know if it has completely sunk in that the woman he loves is going to die. I am not suggesting that he be angry about it either. We all handle these things in our own ways. I am angry because it is so senseless.
I have a harder time with terminal illnesses than with death by other means. What happened to in Tucson is unconscionable. The news is sometimes filled with these terrible stories about wanton violence and slaughter. I am not suggesting that these are not tragic or that they are any better. Instead I am saying that I find them easier to deal with. Turn the corner and the mugger doesn’t find you. Call in sick on 9-11 and you miss being in the towers. I won’t say whether that is shit house luck or divine providence because I don’t know.
What I know is that when 32 year old women die from cancer there is no good reason for it. I have spoken with D’s parents and siblings about this. I am sure that Mookie’s parents would say the same.
Really, there aren’t answers that I find to be satisfactory so I don’t spend time or effort chasing them. It is kind of funny because I can be that guy that chases after ghosts.
It is part of my nature to verify that the fire burns and that the pot is warm. But that is neither here nor there.
What I try to focus on is learning from the mistakes I have made and from the things that I see around me. It is a reminder that the words I wrote here are even more significant. I can’t wait any longer to make some changes. I can’t make excuses or pretend that the right time is coming sooner. I can’t do it anymore because it is just not in me. The time to act is now. The time to do what I need to do is now. The time to move is now.
Now, now, now, now, a thousand times now. So let these words bear witness to the silent promises I am making to myself. Let them serve as a guide and a tool that I will use to push through the obstacles. The dreamer chooses to try and live his dreams and not the reverse.
It all makes me feel very strange. It is sort of like waking up and realizing that you have been in a coma or trapped inside a cocoon. I don’t know what lies on the other side, but I am going to find out.