Archives for October 2011

Dear Stephen King

October 8, 2011 by Jack Steiner 8 Comments

Dear Stephen King,

I haven’t heard from you in almost forever which is my way of saying that you don’t write and you don’t call. Where is the love Stephen? How is that supposed to make feel.

I suppose that since we aren’t really friends, not even in the Facebook sense of the word it doesn’t matter. It is kind of funny to me to think that you probably have heard of Snooki and her friends on the Jersey Shore but haven’t a clue that some Jewish kid out west has a blog.

Since I haven’t ever tried to contact you or done anything other than buy some of your books it is even more unlikely that you would know of me and that is ok. I am not your biggest fan. Certainly not the most loyal or most devoted, at least I don’t think so.

But none of that matters to me. The reason I write this blog is as varied as the colors in the rainbow. Most of the time it is because I love to write and this gives me a great excuse to do so. Most of the time it is because this is where I chronicle the lives of my children and leave a living record of my thoughts about life, love and living. And yes, those are three different topics.

Earlier today we stood in shul (synagogue) and I wrapped my children in my tallis (prayer shawl) blessed them and thought about my life. It was Yom Kippur and that is a day for introspection. At least it is supposed to be but I admit to having been distracted by more than a few things. When I was supposed to be thinking about how to be a better person I was lost in thoughts of the carnal nature.

Other men might have been upset by this and rightly so. We fast to help us focus on the day and the task at hand. Except I saw someone who reminded me of someone who was once dear to me and instead of focusing on repentance I remembered what it felt like to have a pair of legs wrapped around me.

Damn if I didn’t silently curse and try to shift my thinking to something that was more in line with the mood and reason for the day. It took some doing but eventually I forced those thoughts out of my head and was rewarded with the scent of the most delectable steak I had ever eaten. Since I was fasting I can’t say that was any more to my liking.

Pictures, Videos and Memories

I am reading your book on writing now and am about half way through it. I really like it. A while back I decided that I have to find a way to publish the stories I see in my head so I figured that it wouldn’t hurt to see what you had to say on the matter. I was curious to see if I would relate to your words and nod my head in affirmation or if I would make me say “what the fuck.”

Curiosity makes me wonder if you have the fire in the belly that I have. It makes me wonder what drives you and if we share any of that in common. I wanted to find out if you read your words and hate them too. Sometimes when I read old posts like this I want to scream.

I can’t decide if I hate it because it is embarrassing, ridiculous and wrong or if it because I know that I am onto something. Most of the time I think it is because I know that I am dancing in the fire and that I can almost reach that brass ring. I am so damn close that I ignore the smell of smoke coming from my shoes.

Old Jack has one hell of a threshold for pain- a tolerance that doesn’t always serve me as well as it should. I can take a beating that would put most people down and I can give it back twice as rough. Not sure that any of that is good for much but sometimes it makes for good blog fodder.

And fodder is something that a writer never throws away. We simply stuff it in the garage and save it for future use. My garage is crammed full of pictures, videos and memories and there is always room for more.

The fear of getting what you want

Stephen, did you ever suffer from the fear of getting what you want. Some of the boys definitely suffer from it. They sabotage their dreams and cry. It makes me scream. I gnash my teeth in rage and ask them why they would do that. Why don’t they believe that they deserve to live their dreams.

And sometimes in the quiet of the night I wonder if it is not them who sabotage their dreams but me. Maybe I am the one who is creating the issues that prevent my getting what I want. It would be a classic case of being my own worst enemy. If Jack is a superhero he needs an arch nemesis to do battle with. Why not make it me. Who knows me better than me.

A few minutes before I broke my fast I closed my eyes and opened my heart to possibility. And there in the silence of my mind’s eye I saw something that I can’t describe. I can only tell you that I think that I have to walk through hell for a bit longer but I am going to get to where I need to go.

It is going to happen because I am too damn stubborn not to make it happen. It is going to happen because one day I will forgive myself for that which needs to be forgiven and because some things can’t be stopped, only delayed.

P.S. Stephen, if you ever want someone to spend some time talking to you about social media feel free to ask and I will gladly share the few secrets I know. BTW, first cup of coffee is on you.

Thanks,

Jack

There Are Boundaries In Blogging

October 7, 2011 by Jack Steiner 22 Comments

I miss the big lug that you see inÂ the picture. Four years have gone by since we had to say goodbye but I carry him with me in my heart always.

He proved that a dog really is man’s best friend. I never worried about him betraying my trust or breaking my confidence. Secrets told were secrets kept.

Were he still here I would gladly share the sights and sounds that I continue to carry in my soul and my heart would be lighter for it. But he is not so I am intentionally more careful and circumspect.

For there are tales that are not to be told and stories that are not to be shared with all who visit me here. Sometimes it is easy to see the line that divides mine to tell and mine to keep but not always. Sometimes the lines are blurred and the truth that lies within is not so easily discerned.

It is something that I have wrestled with for years- the boundaries of blogging. I have written about it many times because I want to come up with a clear policy for myself. I write about it because when you involve people you just don’t know what you are going to get. All it takes is a simple contest and all sorts of stuff can go on.

All I have to do is look back upon a few posts likeÂ Dad Blogger Link Bait- The List You Wish You Were On or When Bloggers Bully and I remember telephone calls, emails and tweets about issues that really shouldn’t have been issues. We all agree that there is no need for drama yet we see it in all aspects of life.

Sometimes I would pop open a beer and sit outside with the big lug and tell him about what was going on. He’d stare at me with those big soulful eyes and that enormous head and I’d tell him that I wanted to trade places for a short time. He could be me and I could be him. But he never did agree to that and I suspect it is because he knew too much about what we are like.

Or more likely he’d look at me and think that there is no reason to give up the greatest life you could imagine. Everyone who saw him wanted to hug or pet him, especially women. Talk about a magnet, he was the ultimate wing man.

But like I said, what I miss most is just being able to talk to him without restriction. And that also happens to be what I miss about blogging- the freedom to write without thought or regard for content.

The Tales We Tell

I suppose that IÂ misspokeÂ when I said that I need to come up with a policy because I have one in hand. The real question is whether I need to reframe or rework it. The policy as it stands now is not to write about anything that I can’t talk about in public…openly. Â It is really very simple.

Everything we do online leaves digital crumbs all over the place. But even if I weren’t semi-anonymous I would still be careful. There are things that family and friends wish to protect so I need to honor their wishes. There are tales that could be told that belong to my children- some of those remain unsaid because I am not certain that they won’t be upset by them.

And some stories remain cloaked in shadow and silence because it is not my place to destroy dignity without consideration or thought.

So what do you think about this? Where do you draw the lines on sharing?

A Good Life

October 7, 2011 by Jack Steiner 7 Comments

“Oh put me in the book of good life
I just wanna live the good life
This could really be a good life, good life”

I just spent 90 minutes wrestling with the blog but it felt more like 90 days. Frustration began to wash over me and I let the venom fly from between my lips. Ten thousand curses or more echoed off of the walls of my office but none of them were answered.

I am not a designer, developer or coder. I am a writer who likes to play tinker and tailor. I have wandered through the woods and done what I could to make this joint look better. Spent more than a few moments trying to clean it up and had some success.

But today I wasn’t as successful. Today I couldn’t make this sucker sing or dance. Couldn’t quite make it move for me. Finally I let it go and decided that tomorrow would be better.

+++++

It is less than 24 hours until the start of Yom Kippur and I am restless. Less than 24 hours and I am unsettled. This is not unusual. This happens to me every year.

But I give myself a break because every year is not like this year. This year there are additional challenges to be faced and overcome. And that is what we shall do because there are no other choices.

The children have heard me talk about this more than once this week. We don’t shirk or hide from the hard things that we face. We hit them head on and do the best we can to make them work out. I explain to them that some people can’t deal and they give up. But we don’t give up….ever.

In the future they and I will have more conversations about failure. When they are a bit older and understand nuance better I’ll explain to them why I don’t think failure is an evil word and how it can be of help. But we aren’t quite there yet.

+++++

This year I need to write the book. This year I need to do more with the stories. There are about 150 posts or so of my fiction here and maybe another 50 or so elsewhere. I need to find out how to write an eBook. I need to build time to try and write down some of the other stories that are floating inside my head.

This year I need to continue to focus upon live and love…NOW. It is that simple and that important.

+++++

In the midst of theÂ battle with the blog I took time out to do a bit of lifting. Exercise always makes me feel better. Decided that I wanted some musical accompaniment and put on a little Metallica. I love this song and album- the orchestra really makes a difference Â

And now I find myself staring at the clock wondering how I managed to stay up until close to 2 am…again. It is a good thing that the kids don’t have school tomorrow as I think that I’ll try to sleep in a bit later.

I still feel a bit restless and unsettled but I also feel like I have as good a handle on things as I can. Life doesn’t give us the choice for when to deal with the things that come up. So all we can do is our best and hope that is good enough.

See you in about 4 hours.

Punching At The Wind

October 6, 2011 by Jack Steiner Leave a Comment

1977 Chevy Camaro 01

A New Insertion For Fragments of Fiction

Have you ever seen a one-armed man punching at nothing but the breeze?

The Wrestler– Bruce Springsteen

Johnny stood in the doorway and looked out at the cars driving by on the street and remembered days long gone by when he would jump in the Camaro and just drive.

He closed his eyes and remembered….Remembered what it was like to open the window and hit the freeway destination unknown. Remembered what it was like when he had nothing but freedom to do as he wished and countless hours within which to do it.

Those were days to remember. That car may not have been alive but it might as well have been a dog or a horse. It was a big part of him and it shared more than a few adventures. If those wheels could speak they would told a colorful tale or two.

They might have mentioned quiet moments in the mountains or sunsets painted across a bright blue sky and set against the sea. They might have spoken of the persons who spent time in those places and shared their thoughts about how they impacted and influenced the life of that driver.

And though there had been more than a few there was still only one who mattered more than the others. Just one whose memory had never left and whose name was never far from his lips. She had turned his life inside out and upside down.

They had sworn a blood vow to never let go of each other and had done the things that they could to ensure that it would last.

But that was then and this is now.

+++++

Life is nothing but a series of moments in time set against the backdrop of the people who share them. It was a lesson that Johnny had learned all too well. There had been moments of triumph and moments of tragedy. He had tales of sorrow, had gained and garnered more than a few scars.

That is what happens when you live and love. Sometimes you come out of these moments feeling like you are a one armed boxer punching at the breeze and sometimes you come out carrying the grand prize. The trick and the challenge lies in recognizing those moments for what they are.

They say that those who do it well find life to be easier and more enjoyable, or so it was said. Johnny didn’t necessarily buy into it wholeheartedly. He tended to believe that in order to enjoy and appreciate the sweetness of life you had to experience some of the other side.

Not to mention that even if you recognize the moments you still have to be willing, ready and able to take advantage of the moment. And that was one thing that tied all people together- missed opportunity.

+++++

It was something that he knew about and had experienced. It happened back in that past life he used to live. Back when he and June had shared their hearts and lived a life together.

They had missed their window or at least that was the explanation she gave for leaving him. Well, it was one of them. She had thrown out a bunch of other reasons and excuses for why they couldn’t be. With the perspective of time it was possible for Johnny to see more clearly how things had unfolded and to recognize how close they had come to overcoming the consequences of their confusion.

One step to the left and a jump to the right would have helped them to avoid a few of those land mines and had they done that the harsh words they exchanged might not have been uttered. But that hadn’t happened and instead they had gone down that same rocky path that so many other couples walked upon.

Battered and bruised they turned away from each other. Stopped talking and ceased communicating. Two people who used to hate not being in touch learned how to be alone and apart.

+++++

It was the picture of June in the blue dress that changed things for Johnny. He came across it unexpectedly and was surprised by the reaction it caused in him. She was simply stunning and it took great effort on his part not to pick up the telephone to try and call her.

The pain of the disconnect and the distance came rushing back. For a moment he let himself bathe in it. He looked at her picture, remembered what it was like to kiss her and got lost in memory. What had once seemed impossible had happened.

All these years later he could hear June tell him to promise to find her no matter what happened. Remembered laughing at her and asking what he should say if she wouldn’t talk to him. She told him to remember that she would be mean. Said that he should ignore that and remember that she wasn’t being a bitch because she didn’t love him but because she did.

He said that was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard and she told him to shut up and listen. “Shut up and listen” had turned into a joke for them with deep meaning behind it. If ever they had a fight it was something that one or both of them said.

+++++

Johnny stared at the picture and said the words out loud “Shut up and listen.” As expected there was no response. So he took a deep breath and told himself that it was time to return to reality. June was living her life and he was living his.

Later that night as he went to sleep he swore that he heard her say “Shut up and listen” and then promptly dreamed about the reunion that they always knew would take place.

When he woke up in the morning he didn’t remember the dream but in the back of his mind he still felt her touch and wondered if somewhere she could feel his.

Why Steve Jobs Isn’t Important Now

October 5, 2011 by Jack Steiner 47 Comments

Seven years ago I stood in a hospital room and looked down upon my father’s unconscious body. The strongest man I knew had been brought low by a heart attack and some sort of infection.

The docs had hooked him up to a ventilator. I stared at the machines and listened to the clicks, clacks, beeps and whistles. Watched and wondered what would happen if the power went out and the machines that kept dad alive suddenly turned off. Wondered if they had a generator and tried to figure out how it all worked.

It had been whirlwind trip back east. The call came in telling me to get on a plane or risk not seeing dad again. So I did. I bought a ticket. It wasn’t easy. I had to help my mom. I had to get there to help dad but I had responsibilities at home. Back home where I left a 3.5 year-old son behind with a pregnant wife

Spent six hours on a flight not knowing whether he would be dead or alive when the doors opened. Breathed a sigh of relief when I saw him at the hospital. Spent a week there and then repeated the trip in reverse. It was a long haul, but dad made it and so did we.

It is a moment in time that changed me and my life.

Here We Go Again

Four hours ago I was transported back in time. I stood in the hospital room and listened to those beeps and whistles. Watched as the machine helped him breathe, kept him alive except this time it wasn’t my father. This time it was my brother-in-law. This time my little sister looked up at me through tear filled eyes and asked “what happens if he dies.”

No one expects to face these decisions in their thirties but sometimes it happens. I know because I have seen it happen to others and now it is happening to my family.

But the echoes of the past have stayed with me and I am a harder man than I was the last time. I look down at little sister and hug her. A soft rumble comes out of my mouth asking her to take it one day at a time. I tell her not to buy trouble but inside my head the questions pile up.

Most of them surround my five-year-old nephew and how to best take care of him now. He hasn’t seen his father in three days and knows that his mother is nervous. He snuck out of bed and found her crying. He wants to know what made mommy cry and when he can see daddy.

Steve Jobs

All around me I hear people moaning about the loss of Steve Jobs. Newspapers, television and radio stories talk about how he changed the world. They talk about him as a leader, an innovator and a visionary. He is lauded, praised and beatified but I am ambivalent about it.

I can’t disagree with calling him those things and not because I am listening to music via my iPod now. But I can’t say that I am sad. Maybe I should be. Maybe I should be upset that we won’t get to benefit from his drive and vision any more.

But I just can’t worry about that. Can’t get caught up in what could have been, not now. Not while my nephew is on the verge of losing his father and my sister worries about becoming a widow. Can’t do it while my kids try to understand why I keep getting telephone calls about their uncle. Can’t do it while I call my sister’s office and explain to the office manager why they are going to adjust their hours.

Can’t do it while I juggle chainsaws, bowling balls and flaming torches.

Priorities

My nephew is five and worried about his father. I understand that. I remember the shock of seeing my father in restraints, a tube in his throat and machines everywhere. The difference is that I was 35. So tomorrow I’ll grab my nephew again and Uncle Jack will do his best to distract him. Tomorrow I’ll make another trip to the hospital and sit with my sister. I’ll remind her to take a deep breath and take it one step at a time.

And somewhere in between it all I’ll help my daughter with homework and run with my son to soccer practice.

But right now I am lost in thought about it all. Right now I am thinking about the first time I saw those machines and how I tried to process it all by figuring out what each machine did and how they worked.

Live now, our hold on life is precarious.

Would You Read This Story Part IV

October 4, 2011 by Jack Steiner 6 Comments

One thing that I love about blogging is that you can’t ever tell what is going to be successful. Anyway, this story has been blowing up. Every day people email me to ask when I’ll provide the next segment. Well, have no fear it is here. The box on the right should have links to the prior installments.

I Will Never Fall In Love Again

I pulled into a parking space, turned off the motor and cursed out loud. The weather outside the car was perfect. Blue skies and just enough heat to make you feel warm were all the reason I needed not to be here. It is a good thing that my skull isn’t transparent because if it was my dear friend Harold would be able to see storm clouds heading his way. With any luck he’d be struck by lightning.

Ok, that is probably unfair. I was semi responsible for this meeting. The company had a funny policy about paying people only for the work they did and not for work that they might do. I had a long conversation with one of the bookkeepers about that one. We got stuck riding an elevator together and since I haven’t a clue what pasty faced number boys are interested I talked about paychecks.

We both learned something that day. He found out that a two minute ride on an elevator can feel like a week in cleveland and I found out that I can babble at length about anything. I know, you already knew that.

By the time I had walked into the office I had figured out that the topic of my next submission was going to be why marriage was the devil’s greatest invention. In my experience it was the closest thing to hell that one could find. Before you go off half cocked you need to understand that the classic definition of hell is wrong. It is not a place of fire and brimstone.

The Definition of Hell

Hell is seeing the love of your life unhappily living with someone else, but pretending to be happy. Hell is being granted a taste of the most incredible relationship and experience of your life and then having it taken away.

ItÂ is like being seated at a table with the greatest feast you have ever seen. The food looks and smells incredible. You look around the table and see that the other guests are having a culinary experience that borders n the orgasmic. Just as you are about to join theÂ festivities you realize that your arms are tied behind you and your jaw is wired shut.

Hell is the real world and that is much worse than anything Dante can come up with.

Well, if there was ever any question about my being a bit bitter there isn’t now. Life is sometimes funny in a way that makes you laugh and sometimes in a way that makes you want to cry.

The first time I had my heart broken was hard. The second time was rough and the third time was ridiculously painful. It was bad enough that I swore that I wouldn’t fall in love again. And for a long time that is how it went. Various women came into my life. Some of them tried to break through the walls that I had erected but none really succeeded.

And then one day she did. One day the wall was up and the next day it was a pile of rubble. It scared me. I was frightened and excited by it all. But she took me by the hand and promised to just love me. I think that was part of what caught me, the “I just love you” bit. It was so simple and yet so powerful.

She did and so did I. We just loved each other. It is a cliche, but it felt like a dream. Somewhere along the way we got lost. If I didn’t have my meeting with Harold I might even take the time to tell you how and why. At least I think that I would. Can’t say for certain because I don’t know if I understand it.

So in the time we have before I go off to the meeting let me fill in some details. We fell apart, sort of. Not sure that we ever stopped loving each other, just found ourselves in unfamiliar territory and went separate directions.

She got married and I got married.

I thought that I was in love. I really did. It seemed like it. I guess that it must have felt like it or I wouldn’t have done that whole ring thing.

But here I am today, ringless, wifeless and until the other day very happy. Things were great until they told me about her. I was perfectly fine and now I am not.

Now I find myself on fire for a woman I haven’t seen or spoken to for what seems like forever. Now I find my heart pounding for a woman who probably thinks of me as just another ex. I am sure that she thinks of me fondly, but what are the chances that she feels like I do.

And this sort of talk is part of why I am pissed off with my daughter and the friends. I didn’t want to look at this corner of my closet. I didn’t want to explore the lost ruins to see if any treasure remains.There is a reason why you let sleeping dogs lie.

Sigh. Well, I’ll put this frustration to good use and go needle the hell out of Harold. If he doesn’t go off on one of this interminably long speeches I still might get to the beach.

Silence Is Golden

I walked into the office, looked at Harold and told him to shut up and listen. Dumber men than I are well aware that it is risky to tell your boss to shut up and listen. But having developed an exceptional urge to swallow my size 12 boot ignored common sense and followed up my opening words with, “I said shut up!”

This went over slightly better than the time I asked him in a restaurant whether it was possible to get his name removed from the National Sex Offenders Registry. That stunt led to my paychecks getting lost and my not receiving assignments for an extended period of time.

It probably could have been much uglier had they had a better staff of writers, but they don’t. While I am not dumb enough to believe I am irreplaceable I do know that none of the others are in my league. Don’t mean to be obnoxious about that, but it is true. My content is cleaner and written faster than theirs and that provides me with a substantial advantage over them.

But it didn’t prevent me from being forced to listen to his lecture about respect, his advice on what divorced men should do and something else that I can’t remember. Truth is that I can’t remember most of what he said. Damn girls and their news managed to rattle my cage in a way that just doesn’t happen.

Goodbye

“I remember holdin’ on to you
All them long and lonely nights I put you through
Somewhere in there I’m sure I made you cry
But I can’t remember if we said goodbye”
Goodbye- Emmylou Harris

The girls mean well. They think that they know me better than I know myself and that pushing me here is something that will me to be the happy guy they know I can be. I appreciate that. I really do but I also appreciate not being visited by the ghost of lost love and specter of She Might Still Love You Why Don’t You Call.

Isn’t there some sort of law or rule somewhere that dictates that men my age go sow their oats. Or maybe it is a study. Yeah, I think that I read that it is really important for us to get reacquainted with women by not dating. I think that I read that scientists advise getting involved in strictly physical relationships for an extended period of time.

In between the angst and excitement it occurred to me that this thing that was messing with my head could be the subject of my next column. Lost love rekindled is a story that never grows old. I mapped out a basic outline on a piece of paper and chuckled to myself.

Not only was it great fodder for a story, it would make one hell of a reality television show. That could be a great legacy for the kids. “Children, I want you to know that I paid for your education by creating a reality television show that makes the viewers dumberer. Wouldn’t that be something to be proud of.