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 November 2014

You’re Invited To Be A Part Of My Community

by 8 Comments

* Howling at the Moon *

This post is 3 years old now but much if not all in here is still applicable today. Read on my friends, read on.

[The mysterious “they” say that great bloggers are good storytellers.  I am Jack and I want to be used as the example of a great blogger so I would like to invite you to share a story or two with me. And with a little luck at the end of the ride you’ll decide that it is worth your time to stick around and share the adventures that take place here. P.S. I would like to get a 100 comments on this post and 27 more people to become fans of my page. I’d also like money, a new car and an iPad but don’t expect to get any of those so why ask.]

“It’s the way you play that makes it . . . Play like you play. Play like you think, and then you got it, if you’re going to get it. And whatever you get, that’s you, so that’s your story.” – Count Basie

That quote makes me scratch my head and smile. At first glance I looked at it and said, “huh?” But after a moment of letting it marinate inside the old melon it dawned on me that it is perfect. Perfect because my understanding and interpretation of it is that it means to be yourself and do what you do and that is how I blog. I don’t spend time thinking about how to game the system. I don’t spend time trying to make sure that every post is perfect and every comment is profound. I write from the heart and occasionally through in bits and pieces of my head.

This is how I operate and this is part of what brings me joy. I like being a step to the left and a moment off the beat. I don’t care if people think I am weird. Won’t lie and say that I hope that they don’t. Won’t fabricate a story about how it doesn’t matter if I am cool because that would be false. I grew up during the 70s and sometimes I still want to be The Fonz. He may look like a dork now and Happy Days may seem dated but during it is day it was cool.

I mention all this because I have received a number of emails recently asking me for advice on blogging. And my advice is simple, find what brings you joy and write about it. If you are a business blogger find something in your business blog that brings you joy and tap into that sucker. Joy is contagious and people want to spend time with those who are happy. Joy and happiness will help you in your blogging journey. But don’t be afraid to kill a unicorn, spit on a rainbow and use the bunny to get a lucky rabbit’s foot because sometimes we need that sort of release.

See what happens when you hang out with an insouciant fool like me who loves to defenestrate his enemies. Ah, the joy of nonsense is quite stunning and profound. I know, if this was a bus some of you would be jumping off right now because the driver seems a bit unhinged.

“Mathematics may be defined as the subject in which we never know what we are talking about, nor whether what we are saying is true.” Bertrand Russell

If you are among the 17 long time readers or have had the occasion to dig through my archives you will see that my blog covers a variety of topics. I am a daddy blogger and you will find lots of material about parenting, kids and family life. But you will also find thoughts and ideas on politics and religion. And those posts often generate some crazy email and comments.

Earlier tonight a man sent me a 12,000 word screed about why he thinks I am stupid. According to him religion is bad and anyone who professes a belief in god is delusional. So I sent him a response asking him if I could hire him to haunt my house for Halloween and a bill for the letter. When he asked me what the bill was for I told him that God had instructed me to issue an invoice for food, shelter and nice weather.

Apparently he didn’t find this funny and he sent me some very nasty responses. Yes, I said responses. Most people will tell you not to feed the trolls but sometimes I can’t help myself.

I don’t care if he agrees or disagrees with me. Most of those posts are written as a way for me to sort through my thoughts and my beliefs. They bring clarity to my thoughts and help me better understand who I am and what I am about. Earlier today I left a comment on  my friend Kristen’s blog in which I said:

“because these words are where you find the pieces of my heart and fragments of my soul. I don’t say that lightly or facetiously, writing is a critical part of me.”

“I dwell in possibility.” Emily Dickinson

For more than seven years this blog has been my constant companion and most stalwart friend. It has heard my biggest secrets and borne witness to victory and failures. It is where I figured out what I need to be doing with my life and the place where I work on making those dreams come true. The gloves have come off and the shackles followed. Life is about possibility and opportunity. My joy is to take the possibility that I dwell in and turn it into the opportunity that I want to live in.

I would love for you to join me.

Black Friday Bores Me

by 4 Comments

Ranch Fencing
I am tired of hearing about the holidays and have limited interested in all the assorted chaos and confusion.

Don’t feel like listening to people tell me about a fake war on Christmas or be told about how I just don’t get it because I am a White Male.

Don’t feel like telling you why that is all nonsense and how much I dislike the foolish conversation about White Male privilege because I don’t buy into most of what people are selling there.

If you talk to me about class warfare and the economic advantages/disadvantages people have I’ll engage with you because I see that as a huge issue.

Black Friday Bores Me

I tend to wish people Happy Holidays because I am interested in being more inclusive. As a child this time of year always made it clear to me I was part of a minority group.

Can’t tell you how many times I told other kids I didn’t celebrate Christmas and that I wasn’t bothered by it because Chanukah was enough for me.

My folks always made a point to make sure we were proud of who we were and that the world was big enough for people to have different beliefs. I have taught my kids the same. Always happy to spend time at my friends’ homes helping to decorate their trees but you’ll never find one in my home because it is not my holiday.

Black Friday bores me because my self worth isn’t built upon how much I have. Don’t need to have the best clothes or car to feel good about me. Don’t have to have the latest gadgets and gizmos to make my kids feel good or to prove I am a success.

It doesn’t just bore me, it disturbs me to see how we fill the heads of people with this idea that mass consumption of products has more meaning than I give it credit for.

Some people have suggested that if I had more disposable income I would feel differently but I am not convinced because I have had more. I have been in the position where I could play a little and buy what I wanted and didn’t need.

Need versus want is something I have spent hours thinking about. It is of paramount importance to me because when you understand the difference you can build a road map to get those things.

And when you have what you need and can think about what you want life is pretty damn good.

What Is Important In Your Life

I didn’t add punctuation to that subhead intentionally because I didn’t feel like it. I am too tired to add the question mark that is supposed to help encourage you to engage with me in the comments.

Doesn’t mean you are not invited to comment or share your thoughts, just means I am tired and cranky.

But if you asked me to come up with a list of things I want most of them aren’t going to be found on a your standard Black Friday list.

In the 42 months or so since I sold my house I have moved about five, maybe six times, depends on how you count.  I am ready to move somewhere and be there for a while.

Ready to really unpack, not just my stuff but my mind. Ready to look at a place and say this is going to be home for a while. Been a long time since I had that feeling.

Touched upon it a few times, but haven’t really had it the way I want for a long while.

So my real Black Friday wish is for a home and if I got it I might as well add a few things to it. Include a great space for writing, a place to read and a spot that is just mine.

****

Add a home gym to the list and include a regular gym because it is good to get out of the house.

Include a private chef, personal trainer and a private jet to that crazy list and I might even call it complete.

But if I never get those things I’ll live just fine provided I bear in mind that much of what I need/want are things that fill mind/body and soul. As hokey as that may sound that is the crux of it.

I am looking to do/get the stuff that keeps my mind sharp and makes my body work as it should. If I am going to walk upon the earth I might as well try to do it in peak condition.

Might not have it today, but that doesn’t mean I can’t tomorrow.

Better to have a mind that works at top speed and a body that has fewer aches than a new TV, computer and assorted doo dads.

How about you?

Let’s Spit On Rainbows & Kill Unicorns

by 6 Comments

Dead Horse Point state park
Pink is singing Blow Me (One Last Kiss) and I am trying not to chuckle because I think there is a person who will read that and insist it is not coincidence that I am using it in a post.

Probably because I have used the expression but I won’t say any more than that because they are reliably unreliable and they’ll accuse me of trying to press their buttons. Although it might be a fair accusation because at the moment I want to pull their ponytail and ask them to explain why they get to act like a kid and I can’t.

I think I’m going to run an old post called Be Part of My Community sometime next week. It is an old favorite and it is responsible for inspiring me to pull out the Let’s Spit On Rainbows & Kill Unicorns line again.

Or maybe the universe is responsible for making that sucker end up in front of me or maybe it is just coincidence. Doesn’t really matter to me because some of it tickled my fancy hard enough to make me take notice.

Sometimes the kind of attention you get is very different from that which you seek.

The man who said that and I had words today.

He told me he was tired of the whining and carping about life and said it was time to suck it up. I told him that if he didn’t stop yapping I’d put my size 12 boot in his ass and push his face in the mud.

If you knew us well you wouldn’t be surprised to hear that Tyler Durden wannabe hit me with a cheap shot or that I got back up and hit him back.

Two of us went at it as only identical twins can do. The problem with fighting your true doppleganger is they really are cut from the same cloth so you never really have a true upper hand.

They are as gifted with the same physical abilities and genetic tendencies so the net result of the battle is you both end up battered and bruised and frustrated because you don’t feel like you have accomplished anything.

We ended up on the ground, backs against a wall and shared a beer.

For a moment we said nothing, just caught our breath and then he asked me to explain what I hoped to accomplish by letting my anger and frustration take free reign.

“I hate when you make sense. Do me a favor and go fuck yourself with something sharp, preferably barbed and rusty.”

He smiled at me and I smiled back and then we laughed and I asked him to pass the bottle of Ibuprofen, a saw and a hammer.

“Finally the man who doesn’t cry searches for something that will truly bring the tears forth. There are better ways.”

shareasimage (1)
I love this quote.

It is me.

I do things my way, always have and probably always will.

It doesn’t just sum up blogging for me but life. That song in my head I am chasing and the path only I can see inside my mind are proof enough of the validity of these words.

Sometimes I read the words in these posts and try to figure out if the story I am telling is one you can follow. Some tales are easily told and understood because they have a clear beginning, middle and end but not all operate that way.

The more complex and layered ones intrigue me because they require a bit more skill and some more effort.

People talk about the importance of using hooks that encourage new readers to continue reading but I often wonder how to retain those who fall into a different class.

How do you keep the person who has been hanging around long enough to recognize your rhythm and know your style. I am not talking about the people who LOVE your work but those who just LIKE it.

Don’t misunderstand, the LOVERS are important but you treat them differently than the LIKERS.

That’s because the LOVERS give you more opportunity to play with your narrative and dance with reckless abandon.

LIKERS want to hang out with you. They want to spend time and get to know you but they are not always ready to become the lie in bed all day and do nothing but be with you people.

Blow Me (Another Kiss)

Midway through this a memory came floating to the surface.

A thousand miles and change separate us but the music of the night keeps playing as we listen to All I Ask of You and we end up in a long conversation about people, possibilities and whether windows of opportunities that have shut can be reopened.

I tell you that I think I could trust you enough to cry and the conversation moves up, down and around and when we finally hang up I know that you can’t sleep any more than I can.

Something happened.

A door opened and a connection was formed.

Time dissolves and another memory finds its way front and center.

“I won’t ask you to blow me one last kiss. I don’t like the way that sounds, too negative for me. But I won’t let you off the hook either.”

“Oh you won’t, will you?”

“Nope, blow me.”

I watch your face wait for your eyes to catch the smile in mine and to see the Cheshire grin across my face.”

“Another kiss…please.”

Your lips brush against mine and you tell me that one day my big mouth might get me in trouble. I tell you it is not might, it is when and then I ask you to give me the chance to beg for forgiveness.

Another kiss is exchanged and I tell you to remember that I am a storm walker, trouble maker and someone who spits on rainbows and kills unicorns.

“You fell in love with the wrong guy.”

“No, I fell in love with the right one…my guy.”

I look at the ceiling and try to figure out if that last part is a real memory or just a wish. Guess I ought to ask the universe and see what she says.

Become A Better, Smarter & Sexier Blogger

by 8 Comments

[New York, New Haven and Hartford Locomotive No. 321 crash through roundhouse]
The pundits say if you want to be a better blogger you should follow their rules and do as they do, write as they write and blog as they blog.

But not me, I am of the school of ‘fuck ’em’ for telling me what to do, how to think and how to be.

Ok, that is not eloquent, elegant, insightful or profound but you don’t come here to listen to me tell you how to monetize your blog or to get the goods on how to become the biggest and bestest dad blogger ever.

If you haven’t figured out that old Jack is out of sorts and irritated yet than let me clue you in…I got a double dose of the curmudgeon’s custard and I’d shoot you full of water with the high pressure nozzle on my hose.

Did that scare you off of my lawn?

If it didn’t and you care to hang out I’ll toss you a beer/Coke or pour a cup of coffee and share part of a story with you.

storm

My storm started around January of 2003 or so. Might have been earlier, might have been later but I am not entirely sure and I don’t know if it matters.

What I know is much if not most of what I thought would happen in my adult life has turned out to be very different than I would have expected it to be.

Some of that is very good and I am grateful because the track I was on was wrong for me. I was in the wrong profession and chasing after the wrong set of dreams for me.

Ask me what changed and I’ll tell you that life happened and it forced me to take a very hard look at what I had been doing and where I was heading. For those who are curious it wasn’t illegal or dangerous, it was just a career in sales and business development.

I was good at it but it wasn’t right for me because it didn’t fill nurture my soul or make my heart sing. I was on autopilot most days.

Ask a couple of questions, tell the right story and then sign the contract and move on.

And Then Came The Tornado

Prior to the tornado I would have responded to comments about nurturing my soul and following my heart with some sort of snarky remark. You would have heard me make fun of the ‘woo woo’ aspect and then I probably would have rolled my eyes.

That doesn’t happen now because of what I have been through and what I have seen.

The details of what happened don’t really matter because the end result is I realized I had to change my life, had to refocus and reorient. So I did and I am and now I am staring at the wreckage that was left behind.

Or at least I think I am, because the truth is I am no longer certain if the storm has passed or if I just lived through one section and have entered or am entering the second half.

I don’t know if that frightens or excites me. I just know that my perspective on some things lacks the clarity I normally have and I find that a bit disconcerting.

Maybe it is part of growth and evolution.

Murakami writes about how the storm changes you and I gather that it is very clear that I am not who I once was. Don’t know if that is good or bad or if it has to be either.

What I see as most significant is how important it is to me to follow a song only I can hear. It is one that plays inside my head and guides me towards the aforementioned things that make my heart sing.

And I would include the importance of having experienced things that have improved my writing and made me a more effective communicator than I was.

Become A Better, Smarter & Sexier Blogger

I included ‘sexier’ in the headline only because it makes people click but it is not a focal point at all. The goal isn’t to say I have become a better writer and to just quit.

It is to keep pushing harder to continue to improve and to strive to write posts that I am proud to say I am the author of.

That song inside my head caresses my heart with signs and symbols that make me think I have only begun to scratch the surface of what is possible. It tells me that there is more than one story inside that people will want to read and that I need to find the key to unlock the closet in which they lie hidden.

The road I am on is obscured by clouds and mist and there are many moments when I feel like I am walking blindly but I can’t go back. Can’t be the guy I used to be because he died.

Or if he didn’t die he just disappeared, doesn’t matter where he is because I know where he is not.

But what I don’t know is what the journey will bring or who will walk with me because some of those I would have sworn would always be are not.

Some by their choice and some by mine.

Others to be determined and or discovered somewhere down the road.

Time to run my friends, midnight approaches and I need to catch some shut eye so that I can post again tomorrow. Yeah, this is part of Nablopomo and technically it is my third post of the day.

Can’t say it is necessarily my best or the worst but I can say that if you want to be a writer you have to write even when you don’t feel like writing. I didn’t want to bang this out tonight, but I am determined to improve, so I did.

Do You Have Secrets?

by 5 Comments

Texas Longhorn by Ed Schipul
Texas Longhorn by Ed Schipul

They ask me “do you have secrets” and I just smile. I let them stew for a moment in the silence while I think about one of my favorite quotes.

“We dance round in a ring and suppose,
But the Secret sits in the middle and knows.” Robert Frost

Yeah, I have secrets. Not just one, two or three but somewhere close to a hundred. Not sure how or why it happened, but I know that it did.

Some of it is just because of how I was raised and some of it is just how it works, life that is.

People have secrets, even those who say they don’t really do. They might not realize it but if you ask the right questions you’ll stumble upon them.

Most of my secrets aren’t really important. You wouldn’t call them important but for the request of another. They are secrets I share.

Perhaps the reason they aren’t important to me is because they aren’t mine. Maybe it is a mischaracterization to lay claim to them. Maybe it is more accurate to provide a different answer.

I don’t really know and I don’t think it matters. I keep them because they are important to the people who asked me to put them in my vault. Those requests come from people I love and hold close to my heart so I treat their secrets like my own.

But the few secrets I call my own are big. They are huge and at times they have made me wonder what I got myself into.

There is one that sits in the middle of the ring that Frost wrote about. It stares at me with eyes that cut through the poker face I try to maintain.

It demands my attention and asks for a declaration of intention. This is not something I can just ignore or forget. It requires more because to pretend it didn’t exist is to dishonor it and that I cannot do.

For a long while I have ignored my gut and the knowledge that one day the secret would break free of the shackles I placed upon it and force me to face it.

I don’t want to say I am afraid of it because fear is a weakness and men don’t like to be weak.

Yet the only way to figure out why it bothers me is to look at it during the daylight hours. The day is coming when I’ll do that and then we’ll find out if what I sense is real and discover if I am going to end up where I always suspected I would be.

Secrets & Questions

Sometimes secrets come with questions, ok most of the time they do but the nature of those questions is contingent upon who is asking them.

Give me an impossible situation and I will tell you how I am going to beat it. I have a plan. What, you say you want to see me fight a Great White Shark? Ok, no problem. First step is to agree that he/she has to fight me on land. It is a small step in equalizing the playing field, but not as large as you might think.

What, you say that it is not fair- sharks can’t breathe on land. Fine, I can’t breathe underwater. Ok, let’s pick a different animal. I’ll fight a gorilla, lion, bear or tiger on land. Snakes, crocodiles, alligators and water buffaloes are eligible for the famous Jack beat down as well.

Blame it on an over developed ego or an imagination that views the world in technicolor- but I just believe that in the end I will win. And that my friends is how I overcome adversity.- The Qualm Before The Storm

The pieces of this giant puzzle we call life are moving and I am doing my best to help push them into the appropriate places.

I suppose the biggest challenge I face is trying to figure out where to push the pieces because in some cases it is harder to tell what direction or move to make.

Unlike a plane or movie theater the aisles in life aren’t lit with a lined of row of glowing white lights pointing the right way to go and the secrets aren’t offering any suggestions either.

Confession: some of this uncertainty makes me a bit uneasy and a little antsy. I’d almost say it scares me but fear isn’t really what I am feeling either.

At the moment I am staring at one of my secrets with the kind of intensity that makes people uncomfortable. Staring hard because I am lost in thought about what to do.

Can’t do nothing and won’t spend much more time thinking because I am not going to let myself suffer from paralysis of analysis. Decisions will be made, action will be taken and then I’ll just roll with whatever comes because that is how it is done.

Ask me what I see now and I’ll tell you it might be influenced by the music I am listening to. It is the Wedding Celebration and Bottle Dance song from the Fiddler On The Roof Soundtrack.

I see people dancing with joy and reckless abandon and I see one of many potential paths.

When the music moves to The Breaking of The Fellowship from Lord Of The Rings the parade of images changes in my mind. Now I see the end of one path and the beginning of another.

It is a long, hard journey that can only be walked with or by a few. Can’t say if that is because only a few are needed or if because not all are capable of walking alongside us.

But when I think about I’m Not Gonna Miss You and the video that goes with it I feel a mix of sadness and resolve. Those clips of moments in his life and the knowledge they are going to be stripped from him pushes me to go collect as many of my own as I can make.

That is why I won’t be paralyzed by indecision.

Do You Have Secrets?

Yeah, I have a few and those that I keep are massive but they are mine and I am ok with that. Life is lived best by those who actively chase their dreams.

I may be a dreamer but I am not the one who just watches day turn into night and night turn into day.

Editor’s Note:  I took an old post from a few years ago and expanded it. Haven’t decided if I am happy with how it turned out yet, we shall see.

How Do You Say Goodbye?

by 1 Comment

2902009507_8b5bb29454_o
On top of Milan’s Cathedral – in cima al Duomo di Milano- Shot by Luca Vanzella

“I am not going to miss you.”

Been thinking about those words quite a bit lately but maybe not for the reasons you might think. You can blame Glen Campbell.

Can’t say I was ever the biggest fan but there are a few of his songs that have always enjoyed listening to. Wichita Lineman, Rhinestone Cowboy and Southern Nights comes to mind, but it is his most recent release that is just tearing me up a bit.

He has Alzheimers and he is well aware that his time is limited.

“I’m still here, but yet I’m gone
I don’t play guitar or sing my songs
They never defined who I am
The man that loves you ’til the end

You’re the last person I will love
You’re the last face I will recall
And best of all, I’m not gonna miss you
Not gonna miss you”
I’m Not Gonna Miss You- Glen Campbell

The brutal honesty and awareness here just kills me, I suppose because I fear very few things but this is one of them.

The idea of losing faculties and not recognizing family and friends bothers me more than I can say.

I don’t think about it much, if ever. It is not a disease that my family has a lot of experience with but I have seen my great grandparents slip into dementia and there were a couple of longer hospital stays that impacted one of my grandfathers.

That gave me more insight into what it could be like than I wanted.

“I’m never gonna hold you like I did
Or say I love you to the kids
You’re never gonna see it in my eyes
It’s not gonna hurt me when you cry

I’m never gonna know what you go through
All the things I say or do
All the hurt and all the pain
One thing selfishly remains

I’m not gonna miss you
I’m not gonna miss you”

But if you asked me to define why it bothers me I would say ever since ‘D’s final battle with the brain tumor I have thought about it on and off.

That is because there was a moment in time when the tumor cut off his ability to have real conversations and I never got to tell him what I really thought and felt. Never got to tell him that he didn’t have to carry the load by himself and that his friends loved him enough to try and help shoulder some of it.

He might have told me to stick it and said it was his own battle but I would have told him to go fuck himself and given him a big hug. I would have let him know that I would walk with him right up to the edge of the damn cornfield.

If you ask me if he knew this I would say yes. I don’t doubt it but some times you need to hear the words from that other person. Sometimes you need to say it.

Hell, this moment is one of those reasons I miss the guy because it would have made an interesting conversation.

****

Anyhoo, when I think about that song I can’t help but put myself in Campbell’s shoes. It has to be terrible to know that your mind is slipping away and that it is likely that one day you won’t recognize the most important people in your life.

I hope that my family never has to go through it. I hope that we never face a moment where I don’t recognize their face and they don’t recognize mine.

How Do You Say Goodbye?

I am not a big fan of saying goodbye, never have been. Most of the time I say  “see you later” or “so long.”

If I say “Goodbye” it is usually in the context of ‘I am done and this is over.’

Can’t say that is how it is every time because it is not, but it does go like that. Kind of funny to write about it because there are people who think I can’t say goodbye but that is not true.

It has happened more than once and it probably will happen many more times in my life. When I am truly done with you, I am done.

*****

When you know as many people as I have who have died from terminal illnesses it is hard not to think about saying goodbye. Hard not to think about what you would do in their shoes.

I never want to find out but if I was forced to learn I am not certain if I would want a chance to sit and have a last conversation(s) with many people.

I suspect there would be a small number who I would want to see and the rest, well…

Quick and painless would probably be my choice and my request but we don’t get much say in that matter now do we.

*****

A final comment to share here.

It is important to me to shine a light on the shadows inside my head and see what lies under the dust. Sometimes I like thinking about the hard stuff so that I can communicate my wishes to those who are likely to be here when I am gone.

If my gut is right that won’t happen for another 90 years or so, but it could happen tomorrow so it is worth thinking about.

Shit happens and people get surprised so I might as well do the best I can to live fully.

What about you?

How do you say goodbye?