The Wrong Jacket

Tony Rice was joking around at the Telluride festival. He said he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror backstage and realized that if he were to become homeless tonight, as he put it, "he wouldn't have to go home and change" in order to look the part. Then he said something that really resonated with me. "Sometimes in life you just grab the wrong jacket."

All fashion faux pas aside, (and sidestepping any obvious political comments), I do think there are times when we go into a situation ill-prepared. We gird ourselves for battle when it's negotiation that is needed. Or we are prepared for reconciliation and what we face is a full out offensive. We go in wearing the wrong jacket, so to speak.

I'm a casual dresser but I am pretty careful about what I wear, to the point where I often take two or three different options. (Raincoat, fleece, and parka are always in my car.) I guess we have to be the same way in life. Always have options so you can step back, regroup, and don the correct armor for your current battle. So thanks Tony Rice for reminding me that being prepared often means dressing the part, playing attention to detail, and always, always, have a backup plan.

 #FullMentalJacket

This place

This place,
this house of my grandparents,
has memories that are not mine.
And yet, I am somehow
embedded in the wallpaper.
I linger on the steps,
my hands forever spread
across the railing.
I dwell in the cupboards
and live within the creases
of my grandfather’s chair.
I smell of peppermint
And King Edward cigars.

My voice mingles with others
gathered around the tables,
pushed together to fit more in.
My name is carved into the oyster shells
piled carelessly at the end of the path.
I stain the hammock
that stretched
beneath the mulberry tree.
I am part of this house,
this place of memories
that are forever mine.

Bipolar life

It's a bipolar day. 

For those who wonder what it's like, 

here's a stab at description...

My mind is racing 100 miles a minute, 

A dozen fabulous ideas at once. 

New inventions, ideas for books, 

things I want to buy.

Yet sadness weighs on my shoulders 

like a wool blanket - heavy, itchy, 

smelling of wet sheep. 

Can't think, can't write, can't talk.

Too much noise; can't concentrate.

Voices are too loud.

The phone buzzes like angry bees.

Light is over bright. It hurts to see.

Every chore seems monumental;  

Even walking takes too much energy

like my feet grew 2 sizes overnight.

Maybe they did. 

I keep moving.

This will usually passes in a day or two, 

then I can get back to functioning. 

Until then, I think I'll sleep, 

watch reruns of documentaries,

And play video games 

until the computer runs out of juice.

State of the world

58 dead in Vegas,
we sigh and shake our head.
"A tragedy," we say.
Warmest condolences
From the President.
We just keep scrolling
through the news.

Thousands homeless
in Texas, Florida, Puerto Rico
Hurricane casualties
still without food, water,
Illness clawing at their door.
"Those poor people," we say.
Here's 5 dollars
for your trouble.

Tom Petty has a heart attack,
and the Internet goes into mourning.
CD and MP3 sales increase.
We spend hours reminiscing
about our lost youth.
"Where has time gone," we ask.
Lines will form at the grave
For a last view of the icon.

How did this become
our priority?

Take a knee, America.

It takes courage to risk your livelihood, and often your life, to take a stand against bigotry, racism, and violence. But when a country no longer shows respect for all of its citizens, then those citizens, the disenfranchised, must find a way to make themselves heard.

The NFL players, as well as those in other public positions, have seen kneeling during the national anthem as a way to utilize their visibility to represent groups that have become invisible. It is a peaceful protest. Our flag is only a symbol, and the national anthem only words if the nation no longer embraces the ideals embedded within them. 

As a Veteran, I still salute the flag, and as a patriot, I cry every time the national anthem is played.

... But then, I'm not afraid of getting shot by the police.
I'm not watching my kids die from poverty.
I don't get turned down for jobs, housing, schools because I'm not white enough.

I will never understand the battles these Americans have to fight every hour of every day.  So I cannot condemn the actions of those who would be their champions.

Buying the farm rather than the company

While European markets are working to reduce food waste, American grocery stores throwing away more and more. Then they wring their hands and wail as neighboring families go hungry. And its because they are trying to meet the expectations of selfish shoppers. So here are a few ideas on how we can stop this trend.

1. If you want specialty items, buy from a specialty store. Or don't buy so much junk, period! Turnip twaddlers are highly overrated.

2. Don't expect one stop shopping for everything from soup to videos. That's lazy.

3. Stores can certainly cut food waste by reducing variety, especially of non-essential items. Grocers don't need to buy so many varieties of cocos puffs. Nobody needs 25 new flavors of pop tarts, or magazines, or soda, or beer, or potato chips, or vitamin drinks. That's just greed, advertising dollars, and big business sticking it to all of us.  One. More. Time.

4. Think like a society rather than an individual every time you shop. What is sustainable, what is healthy, what is enduring, what will make us stronger as a community?

Buy Local. Limit foods to those that are simply processed, have less chemicals. You'll live longer, have fewer medical bills,  and see your kids graduate from college.  If you're lucky.

Ode to a lost friend

"I just found out my best friend died."
Those were the words uttered as an excuse
For the overcharge at a local restaurant.
I hadn’t noticed a mood change
I didn’t see the verge of tears look on her face
I detected a quiet sniffle but nothing more
Her best friend just died

There will be an autopsy
Autopsies are never good
They refer to the OD’d, the beaten, the run off the road kills
They’re for the junkies and the villains
And the murder driven psychos. 
Not for best friends or daughters
Or dates for the prom.
Autopsies are for others.

You have to finish your shift.  
Going home is not an option
Being sad is not in the job description
Selling strudel and cakes,
And ringing up the guests and wursts
Of this charming gasthaus.
That’s what you’ll do until end of shift
When you can call your family, or other friends
To give them the news and sit with them in silence -
On opposite ends of the phone
Listening to the quiet of pain
Wondering what to say.
For there really aren't any words
To take away the shock.
"I just found out my best friend died."