Archives for April 2016

A Confession About The Secrets We Share

April 10, 2016 by Jack Steiner 2 Comments

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.

It is hard to imagine it going any other way than that but not for lack of imagination or effort.

I did my part to keep my side of the street clean and dedicated my efforts to tending the garden we planted but sometimes life has other plans.

Don’t ask me to tell if it is fate, karma or coincidence because the how and why don’t matter as much as the what.

There are some things that you can’t ever outrun.

Some Stains Can’t Be Washed Away

More than twenty years later I am lying in the dark holding the phone in my hand listening to your voice- wondering how you found my number and why you called.

My heart is pounding and my mouth is dry. I feel like my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth.

“I am in trouble and I need your help. They’re back.”

And then the other memories hit me like a torrent of water and I remember why I had to walk away from the woman I planned to marry.

Twenty-five years ago the boys and I graduated from college and decided to travel around the world.

We started in London and gradually made our way through Europe and hop scotched around a couple of continents flipping between Asia and Africa.

The plan was to follow our hearts and go wherever they took us, regardless of whether it made sense. Logic was for school and since we were out of school we ignored it. Took a freighter one direction and then hopped on a plane in the reverse two days later.

Time was meaningless and so was money.

That was because of my friend The Duke. His real name was Chadwick, but he preferred to be called Chad.

It is a tossup as to whether he hated being called The Duke more than he disliked being called Chadwick.

The Duke came from old money. He grew up on a monstrous estate and lived a life out of a movie. His graduation gift was control of a trust worth in excess of $100 million.

So money wasn’t a problem and neither was time. The only real problem we had was that we were young dumb and stupid,

Took a trip to city in Thailand called Phuket only because it looked to us like it was pronounced ‘Fuck It.’

Our time in ‘Fuck It’ was punctuated with lots of moments that should have gotten us arrested. Somehow the members of the great fraternity of young, dumb and stupid managed to avoid those particular problems.

Things didn’t get crazy until we were in Paris. It had to be Paris. I didn’t like the city, didn’t want to be there and would have happily skipped it.

But Young, Dumb and Stupid was overruled by the power of the penis. Yep, young horny men met girls and got dumber, or maybe I should spell it dumberer because it was really bad.

I still have the letter that started it all. A handwritten note with flowing cursive letters and heart dotted I’s sent by the girl who Chadwick swore would be his.

If the jerk hadn’t been thinking with his dick he might still be here to help me figure out what to do now.

This letter is a stain that I want to wash away, but I can’t. I had just begun to believe that maybe it was over but now I see I was wrong.

I dumped a trunk somewhere under the desert sky and now I need to find it.

Need to find it because I need to confirm that what was intentionally lost will never be found. Need to find it to confirm that it cannot be found.

Part of me can’t help but laugh out loud because I said this would happen. I knew that it was a mistake and now I want to kick myself for not forcing the issue way back when.

I let them convince me that I was being paranoid and that the desert knew how to keep a secret.

It is possible they were right.

It is possible they are still right but the problem is we can’t say with the sort of certainty that would make me comfortable that it is true.

And now a quarter century later when I have a 1000 times more to lose than I did then I have to figure out where my loyalties lie and decide what to do.

The funny part is that I don’t have to ask the question because I know what the answer is. The choices I made then aren’t bound or restricted by…anything.

There is no statute of limitations to rely upon.

And even if I were willing to think of hiding that is not an option.

Guess I better find my passport and start thinking real hard about what comes next because when it comes it will come in a hurry.

Parts and pieces of this story were originally published here and here.

An Angry Man Meets An Angry Father

April 7, 2016 by Jack Steiner 2 Comments

The anger rolls through me like waves breaking upon a shore.

It is not the overwhelming anger I sometimes felt when I wore the proverbial younger man’s clothes because I am in complete control of it.

But there is a part of me that is tired of holding back and tamping it down. A part that wants to take the gloves off and let my tongue and fists do what is required to take the edge off…a bit.

I don’t have to look very far inside my head to see the things that upset me and to recognize the intersection of angry man and angry father.

Today I am both and I will be both again tomorrow.

This mix of rage and fury is fueled by a feeling of powerlessness intermixed with injustice.

It is powered by a sense that I could and should be doing more but am not because theÂ smarter moveÂ is to hold back.

But theÂ interestingÂ thing about it all is that I am not convinced that holding back is the smarter move. I am not sure if letting go would serve me and that teen better.

The thing is there is no testing ground or way to conduct any R&D here. No way to find out what would happen if I just let go so I am forced to hold back and hope that this is the smarter move.

Forced to suck it up and swallow it back.

â€œAnger is an acid that can do more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than to anything on which it is poured.â€ â€• Mark Twain

I instruct the kids to use experience when they are uncertain to help guide their decision making.

Experience has taught me that I am very good at letting my anger wreak havoc on the world around me and that the mess that is left isn’t always pretty.

It has also taught me that the acid old Sam Clemens is talking about is real. I have felt the physical and emotional burn of holding onto anger.

Bottled up and unserved it does little to help and much to hurt.

That is also why I have taught the kids to try and take a deep breath before they talk. To breathe and think before they speak.

Anger isn’t always the best filter through which to look at the world.

An Angry Man Meets An Angry Father

Today I witnessed some bad behavior and was reminded yet again about how nasty some people can be.

And in the midst of it I recognized my desire to run amok and to fan some of the flames, to motivate people to fight.

Part of me wanted it because if I instigated it would give me a chance to unleash and unload.

But it wouldn’t help the angry father feel better and though it would make the angry man a bit less edgy it wouldn’t fix things there either.

I would still be pissed off and disappointed about having been let down.

The angry father is upset because he/I feel powerless. I can’t do any more than I have done to help improve certain things.

I can’t make someone do things they aren’t ready or willing to do and so I have to wait, watch and hope.

It is not easy for me to not try to use all that I am capable of to more, to influence and push for a better outcome.

So now I watch and wait knowing that sometimes heroes fail and fall.

The angry man takes a different tack.

He sets sail into the wild and recognizes he is paddling upstream and against the wind but here it is a test of will and faith.

The fury comes from feeling betrayed by those whom he never expected to do so and from falling short of his own expectations.

Sometimes people…suck.

But the good news, the best news is that nothing lasts forever and this too shall pass.

This too shall move and we’ll find ourselves smiling for no reason other than because we can.

A Father’s Wisdom

April 6, 2016 by Jack Steiner Leave a Comment

A blog is a funny thing. You get a snapshot of a moment in time and a chance to see who you and your family were during a different moment.

I wrote the post below five years ago and even though I lived it all there is a part of me that wonders who that and those kids were.

Five years late elementary school is just a memory for the kids and I am struck by just how surreal some things feel.

That is because five years from now my oldest will be in college and my youngest will be closer to graduating from high school than starting.

Dad’s Wisdom

Sometimes I wake up Â Saturday morning and hear little voices whispering about something or other. I can’t always make out the actual words but I can usually tell from the tone whether it deserves immediate attention or additional slumber. Yes, I just wrote additional slumber. That is part of the joy of having children who are in elementary school- I get to sleep for an extra 30 minutes sometimes.

Ah, who am I kidding- I can sleep anywhere at any time and have been known to do so- but I digress.

If the situation merits my attention it is usually because the wee angels are fighting over toys and territory. Most of the time I’ll wait a bit and see if they can negotiate their own truce. It is not out of laziness but because I don’t want them to become incapable of fixing their messes without mom and dad. We won’t always be around and I need them to continue to learn how to be self reliant.

Yet there are those moments where their diplomacy fails and other measures are required. So the old man drags his butt out of bed and wanders over to wherever they are hanging out and dictates the rules of the road. There is no discussion of who did what to whom or why I am so mean. More often than not I preface the lecture, conversation with “since you forced me to become a policeman I will not be nice about it” and I issue my decree.

These moments tend to be few and far between. You can attribute some of that to my being blessed with good kids Â and some of that to being blessed with smart kids. Because when they hear me coming the whispering gets a little bit louder and always contains a plea to’ just agree before dad gets here.’ Sometimes I wish that I had a bigger house so that they would have more time to talk because often all they need is a little incentive and they get it worked out. And by incentive I mean, the sound of my footsteps.

A Sentimental Father

Cleaning out a garage isn’t always easy. It requires a chunk of time accompanied by a desire to purge yourself of the things that are no longer needed. Â Items are taken off of of shelves and pulled from boxes for a quick inspection. The goal is to engage in a quick inspection so that you can determine whether there is merit in retaining it. Does it have enough monetary value to be offered for sale on eBay? Is it something that you can still use and if so, why aren’t you? The general rule of thumb is that if it isn’t a family heirloom or not worth selling than it should be pushed out because it is not paying rent.

At least this is what I tell myself but sometimes I fall short of the mark. Today was one of those occasions. With the growing conviction that we are going to be moving soon I hit the garage with a chip on my shoulder. I wasn’t going to allow myself to be persuaded to hold onto things that are no longer needed. Boxes of baby clothes, old toys, shoes and assorted bric-a-bracs saw sunlight today for the first time in a while. Moments later they were placed in a different box so that they could be donated to people in need.

That part wasn’t hard at all. It was a bit time consuming but overall it went very smoothly. The problem came when I arrived at the donation center and started giving it away. As I watched the parade of items go by I couldn’t help but see images of the little people who once used or wore them. Shiny shoes that were worn to a wedding reminded me of the 18 month old boy who wore them. The little guy who would stand up in his stroller and start dancing to the music they would play in stores. Â A white dress that was worn by a baby girl at her naming ceremony. Books, cars and games whispered at me.

Everywhere I looked were echoes of my children- or at least the toddler and babies they once were. It wasn’t easy to watch. Â It is nice to know that they are going to be used by people who really need them but at the same time it was hard because they tugged at my heart. They know secrets about these children of mine. They know stories. They have borne witness to their major milestones. They were there when they first called me by name or took their first steps. They are, were a piece of their childhood.

But I talk to them about letting of the things that we don’t need to carry with us. When my grandparents died I talked to them about how the people we love are in our hearts and that whenever I want to speak to them all I have do is remember. They know that people are always more important than objects. They know that the reason that places/things have meaning is because of who is there or who used them.

It is not something that I say- I believe it. I live it. But I won’t lie and say that I wasn’t happy to be doing the drop off alone. Â Because when the donations had been made I took my receipts and sat down in my car. Alone with my thoughts I closed my eyes and remembered. There in the silence I listened to the laughter and thought of what once had been and maybe there was a tear in my eye. Or maybe not.

The future is what I am focused upon- but it doesn’t mean that I need to forget what happened in the past.Â

A Father’s Wisdom

Time has taught me that I know everything and I know nothing.

I have learned the river doesn’t care how strong or determined I am to alter its course. When I push against it rivulets of water flow between my fingers and keep on going.

The current forces me to adjust to it, not it to adjust to me.

So I do my best to take a deep breath as necessary and to serve as the captain of my ship. Life is easier and more manageable that way.

The kids have heard me say these words to them too.

Sometimes they listen and follow my suggestions and sometimes they don’t. I try not to fight those moments because they need to learn the same lessons I did when I was their age.

Read This Post Or The Rabbit Dies

April 5, 2016 by Jack Steiner 1 Comment

Some years ago someone asked me for advice on how to make sure readers never tired of reading our blogs.

I told them the best way to make that happen was to try toÂ write entertaining, educational and informative posts every single time.

“But Jack, what happens if you can’t always be entertaining, educational and informative?”

“Become the Godfather of blogging and make them an offer they can’t refuse. ‘Read this post or the rabbit dies’ will become your new mantra.”

They told me they thought that was ridiculous and I said they were probably correct but pointed out a lot of ideas get passed over because people think they are ridiculous.

If that quote doesn’t describe blogging and social media than nothing does.

Why?

Because the one constant in this crazy world is that the posts, videos, tweets, pins and status updates you expect to do well don’t and the ones that shouldn’t do.

Oftentimes there is no rhyme or reason to it.

Doesn’t mean you don’t have the moments where those things perform as expected but there are lots of times they don’t.

And I cannot help but wonder how many times we kill our creativity by overthinking what we want to do.

My guess is that most of us didn’t do that as kids. We didn’t spend time wondering or worrying about whether our idea was good or silly.

We didn’t wonder or worry about what people would think. We just said and did.

About Audioblogging

I used to do a lot more audioblogging than I have done recently.

Ask me why I haven’t done as much as I used to and I’ll probably tell you it is a combination of not thinking about, lack of time and a desire to create a better product.

But the root of it all, the real reason I haven’t done as much is I have been too concerned with whether people liked it.

Been too concerned about whether it has been entertaining, educational and informative.

Paralysis of analysis tripped me up.

Some days the words come easy and some days they don’t.

Some days I look at the work I have done here and wonder if I have produced anything of real value.

When those moments come it is rare for me to look at other writers and wish that I could do what they do.

I compete with myself.

The bar is always based upon what I have done, not upon others.

I set my own limits and restrictions. The hard part is recognizing when I have done it and working upon removing them.

Read This Post Or The Rabbit Dies

There is a part of me that loves the goofy stuff. Â A part that would like to explore creating a silly picture/idea along the read this post or the rabbit dies line.

I wouldn’t really do it but there is a part of me that wonders how many people would take it seriously.

Would they picket and protest the blog?

Would I get to test out the theory of there being no such thing as bad publicity?

I don’t know and I doubt I’ll ever find out, but I am ok with that.

The main thrust of this isn’t about whether I would really whack a rabbit but about pushing for creativity.

Pushing for an open mind that explores ideas the same ways I did when I was a kid.

What happens when we remove restrictions and limitations?

What happens when we allow ourselves to think and act without those fears?

How do we make the impossible possible?

That is where I am focusing my energy today.

Got to run for now, back later.

Can You Live With What You Have Done?

April 4, 2016 by Jack Steiner 1 Comment

I’ll be 47 next month and when my birthday hits I’ll spend a small portion the day making a mental list of all that I am grateful for and then I’llÂ grab a big yell pad of paper and write the following Â at the top:

Things that I have done and things that I have yet to do.

It will be a two-column list that helps me figure out if I am on track to get not just what I need, but what I want.

There is a difference between the two and it is huge.

Somewhere in the midst of that my folks will call and I just might tell my dad about how he surprised me this weekend.

Beautiful English Landscape With Meadow And Dramatic Sky

Unless something crazy happens you won’t find me walking through the English countryside in the picture above nor will you see me hanging out with family in Jerusalem.

Heck, chances are better than even you won’t find me driving into Dallas but then again, you might.

Strange things are afoot at the Circle K and you never know what the hell life will bring. Trust me on this, if anyone has lived “Shit happens” it is me.

So I really shouldn’t be surprised by some of the wacky crap that is going on in my world, yet here I am shaking my head and wondering if I am going to say What The Fuck twice a day or just once a week.

*****

Saturday afternoon Steiner the Minor and I had a…moment.

Things are still tough there and he and I are butting heads more frequently than not. It is not something I used to and I readily admit to struggling a bit with it.

That is because historically speaking I have always been the one he has turned to for help during challenging times.

I have always been the one who understood what was going on and could help guide him through but lately my Spidey sense hasn’t been as effective at helping him walk through the dark.

Some of it is undoubtedly because the kid is going to turn 16 and has a bad case of hormones raging.

He is growing like a weed and I feel him fighting to figure out all the crap and craziness that comes with this time of life.

I ‘ll readily admit I expected there to challenging moments but I never expected to butt heads as often or as loudly as we have.

Dad surprised me because he told me he thought my instincts were spot on and then suggested I walk away and get a drink.

You don’t know dad so that probably makes him sound like some sort of Puritan teetotaler but he is not that at all.

But telling me to walk away and get a drink threw me because my old man is the guy who taught me to buckle down when things get hard and keep moving forward.

He is the guy who showed me that when life is hard you do what is required to get through that moment.

And he is the man who said that I was more challenging and a bigger pain-in-the-ass than my son.

If nothing changes he is probably right, my son is more cautious about a lot of things than I was. I was far more reckless.

Can You Live With What You Have Done?

Steiner the minor and I are in the midst of our discussion when I ask him to think very carefully about his actions.

“You always have to ask yourself if you can live with what you have done. If you can’t say yes you better not do whatever it is you are about to do.”

I haven’t told him all the stories about me and I never will. There are some things he doesn’t need to know and some things that he probably doesn’t want to know.

Children don’t need to know every good or bad choice their parents have made. There are some things that ought to be mysterious, like how you were created.

Did I mention that when I turned 45 mom told me I showed up earlier than expected?

She said it with a big smile on her face and I told her I didn’t need any more details. Don’t get me wrong. I hope my parents have some great moments and memories surrounding their personal life but I don’t need details.

Some things are best left unspoken.

Where Fire Meets Water

I have been thinking it might be time to revisit the place where fire meets water.

Been thinking that a man who is willing to pay Charon to cross the River Styx and who knowingly steps into the abyss deserves to spend more time there.

Such a man who is willing to do what is required might have more than a single story to tell and might even wander the streets knowing he started a story whose end hasn’t yet been written.

And should he be willing to make like Icarus and fly he might deserve to have his tale shared and or told, especially if he planned on adding to his list of derring-do.

*****

I tell you, this parenting crap is not for the faint of heart.

But then again when you have lived and loved hard you don’t reach a place where you can conceive of turning 50 without having learned some stuff.

I know things and maybe, just maybe I might write about a few of them.

Stick around and walk with me and I’ll let you know what happened when I rang that bell.