Water Won’t Wash It Away

You might wonder if this is about the birth of a murderer and I wouldn’t fault you for doing so, especially with a headline like the one above.

But this isn’t one of those posts where I ask you to wonder if you are capable of wrapping your hands around a person’s neck so that you can cut off their air supply and watch the light fade from their eyes.

I thought about doing so.


whatisreal

Thought about asking if you could imagine being given the chance to dole out justice to those whose deeds have caused them to be excised from the ranks of humanity and delivered to whatever justice comes post life.

Wonder whether that would make a difference in how the death penalty is carried out. Wonder what would happen if people were given the gift of execution and those that were done wrong could rest assured their immortal souls would be avenged by those whose winged souls haven’t yet taken flight.

Some Things Are Better Left…Unlearned

I have no doubt about what I am capable of…at least when it comes to protecting my children.

There is no doubt about what I am willing to do to protect them but that is because of what I have done, what I had to do.

The thing about it is that I wish I didn’t know these things about myself. Wish I didn’t know that these hands which have done so much good and have been used for gentle and peaceful things are stained.

I might sleep better.

I might feel better.

Some things are better left unlearned.

Some stains can’t be washed…away.

artlie 


I swam competitively in high school and college.

Ok, in college I wasn’t on my university swim team, but I was part of the fraternity intramural squad.

I might be a Taurus but I was the kind of bull who was always at home in the water. I wasn’t ever the best on the team, but I was good enough to be a factor.

Good enough to place in the top 25 in the city in a couple of races and maybe, just maybe good enough to have cracked the top ten.

Since Doc Brown hasn’t offered to let me take his Delorean for a spin and I haven’t discovered any other way to go back in time I can’t say if that last assertion is true.

So I’ll never know what could have happened if I had practiced a little bit longer and trained a little harder.

It is part of why I tell my children that if you really want to find out how good you are at some things you have to go for it now.

Maybe one of the reasons I like writing is because it is not tied into youth and being in perfect shape or as close to it as some of the physical endeavors are.

Some might say that writing is tied to age and life experience and that more years and more life has helped make me better at it.

So I'll never know what could have happened if I had practiced a little bit longer and trained a little harder.Click To Tweet

There is an old goal being given new life today.

It is time for me to dust off some of the stories I have written and to take that fiction and do more than provide lip service about producing a short story.

I have a million short stories and a bunch of them have run here. Hell I have the start of one in this post.

So I have decided to push myself to write something for the Kindle Single program or something similar and to have it done by the end of the year.

There aren’t any good excuses for why it hasn’t already happened other than my own fear of putting something out that was horrible.

It is stupid and irrational but fear often is.

What youknow

Writers can’t let fear fool them into thinking they have nothing to give or offer.

Writers write and I am a writer.

This is where I walk into the water and wash away the stink of fear and move into the future I am furiously fixated upon building.

It is where I show my children that the biggest stumbling blocks in life are self-imposed and that the future is waiting for those of us who are bold to go after it.

So I’ll go after it hard, fast and certain and do my best to put something out because I figure the first time will be the hardest.

And I figure that if I really nervous about whether people will like it I can always come up with a pen name like Tolkien Hemingway Fitzgerald Dickens or something simpler like Biteme Bitowski.

I can see it in my head. It is not hard to picture. All I have do is take what I see inside and turn fiction into reality.

Don’t ask me if I believe in the impossible because I have already loved and lived it. I can do it again.

This Is How You Do It

The last time I saw my grandparents dance together was at their 75th wedding anniversary party. They were both in their nineties and though their minds were still sharp their bodies were not what they had once been.

Flip through the pages here and you’ll find posts where I shared how my grandfather would tell me how he never saw a 90 something year-old woman sitting next to him because all he could see was the girl that he fell in love with.

They were together for so many years that it seemed inconceivable that there might come a time when they would be separated, yet it happened. Grandma died and left grandpa alone.

He wasn’t angry with her for dying, but he missed her terribly and I am convinced that he died of a broken heart. It took 18 months, but that is what killed him. Her absence.

Not a day went by where he didn’t talk to her or think about her, but it wasn’t the same.

When I think about that final dance I can’t help but smile. All six of their great grandchildren were there. I heard my son and my oldest nephew groan when they kissed and laughed when they swore they would never have girlfriends or get married.

For a brief moment they convinced their legs to hold firm and their backs straight and I remembered them dancing at my Bar Mitzvah and other family functions.

Life is filled with all sorts of different moments. I am doing my best to recognize them when they come and to appreciate them while they are happening.

Save The Last Dance For Me- 75 Years of Marriage

Not so long ago I explained my belief in astrology. It is very simple. If I like my horoscope than I believe wholeheartedly in it and if I don’t I write it off as being nothing more than superstitious bunk. I do the same thing for most of the new agey stuff.

Don’t tell me that if I ask the universe to give me a gift it will come true. Because if that was true than back in high school good old Ann Stacey would have been really attentive to my needs. But I digress.

This afternoon I saw something that might have made me question my beliefs a bit. This afternoon I watched two 95 year-olds dance themselves back in time. And then I saw them kiss in a way that made me remember that Sarah was older than my grandmother when she gave birth to Isaac.

Great googly moogly, grandma and grandpa kissed each other like they really meant it. If nothing else they managed to make my son ask why grown ups like to kiss so much.

I told him not to worry about it and to watch them dance because he might not get to see it again to which he replied, “are they going to die?” I rolled my eyes in mock exasperation and said yes. For a moment he stared at me and they I told him that I didn’t expect it to happen today.

But the truth is that this might have been the last dance and that makes me a bit sad. My grandparents are one of the constants of my entire life. For forty years they have always been a part of it. I have seen them dance at untold numbers of family parties, weddings, bar and bat mitzvahs etc. They always spent time together out on the dance floor. It occurred to me that I am not sure when I last saw them dance.

I hadn’t realized until that moment that dancing is one of the images I have of them. But when I think about it is easy to envision them gliding around the floor. Confession time. I remember being about 15 and thinking that if I could dance as well as my grandfather it would make it a lot easier to find a girlfriend.

For a brief time I tried practicing in front of the mirrored closet doors in my parent’s bedroom, but that didn’t last long. As a 15 year old boy dancing wasn’t something that I was real comfortable with. I didn’t want to talk about it and wasn’t about to ask for lessons. Maybe I should of have.

Nah…

Anyhoo, it was all part of an anniversary party that we threw to celebrate their 75th year of marriage. The best part of it was seeing how much fun they had. Later on we went back to my parent’s house for dinner.

I got a kick out of watching them sit on the couch holding hands. It was very sweet and I couldn’t help but wonder what they were like 75 years ago. They got married twice. The first time was a secret wedding at the court house. So for a year they lived at home and pretended to be dating.

I’ll share more about them in part two of this story.

Idea #265 for Wooing a Woman

This is idea #265 for wooing a woman and like all ideas here personally tested and proven to be effective.

Unfortunately this edition of wooing a woman does not come with video, but perhaps one day it will. Here is the concept:

You head down to the office of your lucky lady and serenade her with Kenny Rogers songs, while dressed like Kenny Rogers. If you really want to have fun grab some of the guys from this site and use them as your backup singers.

Hell Hath No Fury Like a Woman Scorned

Our pals at Toner Mishap turned us onto this tale of one man’s odyssey into the Twilight Zone.

A Wisconsin man who thought he was joining his lover at a motel for an afternoon tryst was instead blindfolded and bound while she and three other women, including his wife, berated and humiliated him over his infidelity, according to a criminal complaint.

Four of the women have been charged with false imprisonment in the romance-revenge scheme and one of them is accused of sexual assault for allegedly super-gluing the man’s genitals to his stomach, the complaint says.

Apparently his lovely ladies didn’t like being part of a harem. As J. Geils used to sing, Love Sticks, er Stinks.