Christmas Eve Notes

Christmas Eve notes .....

• Saw an old school Catholic nun wearing coif and veil sitting in a car in an empty section of a parking lot and appearing to be texting on a cell phone (though I suppose it's possible that she was praying) .... and being an ex-altar boy and all, I thought it was ha-ha funny. 
• For the past year or two, I've been bouncing between five or six books, reading one book semi-consistently and two or three pages per sitting of one of the others every five or six days. Usually in the moments before I close my eyes for the day. Is this any way to have a true reading experience?
• Been a weird few days weather-wise, with high winds, trees falling over, power outages, followed by heavy rain, flooding, then rumors and day before forecasts and warnings of another windstorm and even more power outages, which never happened and, in its place, the appearance of the afternoon sun (in officially western Oregon winter in December?) which might have been the weirdest and wildest thing of all.
• 2026 is almost here and I barely noticed autumn passing by ..... because it didn't 'feel' like what my memory tells me that autumn is. 

This Old House

I drove by the house today where I spent so many Christmas Eves all those years ago. So many memories good and not so good.

I had flashbacks to the Christmas Eve when my father while experiencing chest pains and shortness of breath and wanting to get some fresh air, asked me to take him for a drive which after two or three refusals eventually resulted in his silent agreement to let me take him to the ER and the confirmation of a heart attack. It was the following summer when he passed away.

Each of those occasions in that house, which by my count was twenty-two Christmas Eves, were full of family and food and with an exception or two, much laughter. So much has changed since then with the house being sold, siblings celebrating in new ways, and the passing of a sibling and my mother. I drove by today thinking that I should be allowed to stop and walk in without even knocking on the door. (Would the current residents understand?) 

And it's all passed by so fast. It's now like I closed and opened my eyes and everything is different. And I mostly try to avoid all celebratory observances and look forward to being on the other side of it but yet I miss the excitement of those old days.

The Difference

It's truly amazing the difference that twenty-four hours can bring.

Yesterday .... with the arrival of the much-ballyhooed atmospheric river number three passing through, dark sky, it felt and looked like nighttime at 3pm, rain falling steadily with no break in the previous twelve hours, combined with self-imposed anxiety felt for two days over a doctor visit I was enroute to .....

The day before that .... a wild windstorm blowing through and widespread power outages.

Today .... beautiful day, sun's out, people walking in the park, doctor doesn't want to see me again for a year.

Suddenly, while the sun was still shining, a few raindrops materialized, felt the collective disappointment in the air and ceased immediately. 

Always watching the sky. It felt like they rose from obscurity.

Preview of Heaven

Is this a little preview of heaven?

When shopping for socks, I usually buy the ones that say for size six to twelve and a half ..... or whatever the range is that ends in twelve and a half.

Because that's all they ever have.

I wear size 13 shoe.

Today I found socks for 'size 12-16' ..... and my feet are suddenly loving me.   

I may have to go back and purchase all they have. 

For once I was prepared. I saw what was up ahead in the grass. A potential photo op!!!

Starlings caught as they rose from the field. (Edited with a black and white filter employed.) I only wish that the timing could have been minus the passing truck trailer in the background. The photo is still a keeper.

Last week, I saw that a local art gallery was holding a sale of local young artists, with all works priced at $100. I spotted two or three paintings in the posted photos that sparked my interest. I figured it was a one-day sale. I walked in this afternoon, and the sale was ongoing. I purchased this one titled, 'The Moon.' The gallery attendant was like: "Ahhhh. I find that one both disturbing and pleasing." I have to say that I agree. I had just spent 5-10 minutes looking at it and turning away. So why my attention was initially drawn .... and kept returning to it, I'm not sure. I fear that it's the 'disturbing' aspect.

Peaceful Easy Feeling

Awake at 1:30am ......

For the second consecutive evening I've had a dream that I did something at work that didn't live up to expectations and pissed off another person.

The first, an old supervisor that I haven't seen for 10-15 years, because in the dream I didn't respond to his request as quickly as had been wished for.

The second, a current co-worker/mechanic because I broke a piece of equipment and he wasn't buying my explanation why it happened.

And even though these are just dreams, the feelings of letting someone down, linger with me for a good while after I awake.

So, to assist in calming down, I go and look at my vinyl record collection.

You would be amazed at how viewing the spines of records, shelved orderly, with the artist's name, the album title and the record label catalog number brings this peaceful effect (or 'Peaceful Easy Feeling') over my mind.

It always seems to help. 

One of those Murphy's Law things that always seems to apply to my life ....

If I grab a t-shirt and just slip it on without looking, the chances are that 97% of the time, it will be slipped on backwards. 😄 That's the case whether I go with initial instincts or reverse instincts. 

Flashback Dream

Just awake from a dream.

Not my usual, out of the twilight zone / outer limits type of dream that makes little sense.

Instead a flashback dream from younger years.

Preface it with the fact that I used to work parttime with the city in primarily youth recreation programs.

In the summer months we would offer two-week sports camps, four two-week sessions.

I would lead / teach mostly basketball but did an occasional soccer and baseball camp.

I did this for 15-20 years with different program offerings for each yearly season, finally leaving amid rumors of programs ending due to city budget cuts .... and partially because I was tired of working nights at my fulltime job, getting off work and rushing .... often across town for 2-4 hours of being bright and peppy when all I really wanted to do was sleep. But I also had concerns about being relevant any longer as I was entering middle age .... my fifties.  

I wasn't sure when I walked away for the last time, if it was actually the last time and these days those last few weeks and how it all ended seems like a blurred time of my life.

Mostly it felt like it was just time to walk away.

In the dream, after all the years away, I received a phone call from my program director in those end years asking if I could be an emergency fill-in for an indoor soccer camp .... and I was needed ASAP which turned out to be five minutes.

How I acquired and donned the red and navy-blue staff colors and was transported across town in less than five minutes wasn't addressed in the dream.

Eight, eight-year-olds in a gym about ten yards in width, all apparently in their first soccer experience.

(Basketball is what I grew up with and knew. Soccer was mostly new to me also. I'd often adapt old basketball drills for use as soccer drills., especially after watching a friend play once and realizing that  the three-man patterns that soccer forwards would execute to get an attempt at goal was very similar to what happens in a basketball game.)

So here I suddenly found myself in this dream, in this bandbox of a gym with eight short attention span kids and their parents, one that eventually stepped forward to help, and after all the years of retirement, attempting to teach basic soccer skills. 

In my dream world, the usual weird dream .... or at least what I remember from it upon awakening ..... is just a few minutes (or seconds even) in length.  

This return to youth soccer dream felt like it was every minute of a two-hour camp session in length.  

And in the dream, I felt the constant sense of panic and anxiety that often accompanies not being prepared.

And the uncertainty of wondering if I was a one-day fill-in or if I needed to return the next day ..... and the even bigger question of .... do I need to gather and stuff all this soccer gear in my car because I don't have keys to lock it up in a storage room.

So hopefully the dream doesn't resume tonight with day two of a two-week camp. 

Because I'm not possessing that sort of extreme saintly patience any longer., 

And hopefully if it does resume it's in a basketball scenario where I could at least show up with an improvised lesson plan.

I awoke with panic carrying over that I was late for work this morning ..... then realized that it's day three of the four day Thanksgiving weekend and all I really need to do was either: 

• a) Go back to sleep and face the possibility of the dream resuming
• b) Put on my shoes and drive to McDonalds for a sausage biscuit and orange juice
• c) Fire up my turntable and cd player and give a listen to yesterday's vinyl and compact disc finds.

Routines

One reason that I struggle with retirement vs continuing to work .....

In the workday there are routines for me. I take my blood pressure medication before I go out the door, I drink water with regularity, I take a bite of food before 10am. There are other things. It's all part of my routine.

With vacation days or other days off, those things get overlooked or forgotten. It will be two o'clock in the afternoon and I'll suddenly realize that I haven't popped my pills or taken a sip of water yet.

There's no urgency for personnel care or maintenance.

I wonder sometimes why people often seem to pass away not long after they retire from work? 

Does it have something to do with the abrupt loss of structure and routines in their daily life?

Seems like it should be an easy fix. In reality, maybe not.

I have a thing for downtown street clocks. Not those with digital readouts (those are for the suburbs) but clocks with faces and hands and a hint of history.

Out Walking Again

Badly needed vacation day taken from work. I sometimes forget that there's a world outside of the seven-day-a-week work routine.

Out for a Thursday late afternoon autumn stroll in the park. Fitting it in between the rain showers. Darkness just minutes away. The cries of a bald eagle (that I failed to locate) in the sky overhead. 

I despise driving after sunset these days and while it's raining .... because I can't see shit (not to forget lines, lanes and curbs) on the roads .... but the lure of autumn photography was stronger. And especially after a friend asked me if I'd been getting any autumn photos to which my reply was, not many."

This after a visit to a downtown art gallery and a trip to the public library where I stopped by the "Friend's Store" and found a compact disc of music by the classical composer, Bela Bartok .... (which if I've identified the correct Discogs page, and I think I have, is worth ten to fifteen times what I paid for it) .... and a book by civil war historian, Bruce Catton. I'd drop in more often if they hadn't made the place look and feel so freaking sterile during their earthquake proofing and remodel a few years ago. They've driven me away with their overuse of the color white and their great efforts at decluttering of ..... well the books. Bookshelves in a library should be overflowing with titles.

Everything looks better through an autumn filter.

The hour 'fall back' of clocks a couple weekends ago, shouldn't have taken place until winter arrives. It's getting dark too early while there's still autumn colors to be seen.

Wednesday Notes

Will add to this hopefully as the evening unfolds .... or maybe this will be it. 👨

• All these photos I'm seeing of last night's incredible Northern Lights display have caused a photo of a sky-to-ground lightning strike to look rather, ho-hum. 
• No Northern Lights for me tonight. And way too many photos causing frustration from those that are able to view the sky. There are too damn many clouds here. I think it's punishment for my sins.
• Just talking from my own experiences but while older age brings stability in most things monetary or emotional, it brings incrementally increased weirdness in the dream word.
• Every once-in-awhile I get incredibly excited about the release of a new record. Far beyond the normal over-excitement usually felt. Such is the case with the album, 'Rituals' by Watchhouse (formerly known as Mandolin Orange.) Fifty-seven years of collecting records (if my math is correct) and that thrill has always been there.

Birds of Different Feathers

This field has been densely populated by hundreds of sheep the past two or three days. Fertilizing the ground. Their droppings must be manna to the herons and egrets who are suddenly out in much greater numbers than usual. There are even a few seagulls mixed in.

Out Walking

Out for a stroll. Something I try to do daily. Taking in the changing autumn colors before the rains return tonight. Such a unique feeling or vibe in the air that in my opinion, the other seasons fail to offer. I would happily accept ten months of autumn with the other three seasons split up between January and August. I'd be very ok with missing out on summer extremes. A yearly snowstorm or two (minus freezing rain) would be ok for photography purposes.

The trick or treaters had better start arriving soon as I'm struggling with resisting temptation. 

Carry On

A guy walking past me downtown, singing a cappella, the old Kansas song from my youth, 'Carry On Wayward Son' and me wanting him to sing another verse. 

• A day away from work giving me the time during daylight hours to partake in three of my favorite activities these days .... lunch, bookstore and record store browsing. Senior discounts at both and one that I needed to ask for as there were no assumptions, which always makes my day.
• All this activity took a toll. I left home feeling like I was 25. Returned home feeling much older than my current upper sixties-something.   
• At the record store, it feels like the owner/husband wants to charge full price while the other owner/wife wants to give me the senior discount. I always wonder if my senior status is causing a slight rift in their marriage. 
• Came across a record today that I've always wanted on vinyl because of its cover photo .... priced at $156, I left it where I saw it. A true record collector would have taken it home.

Tempted but in the end, walked away. Just can't bring myself to pay the asking price. Why is it buried in the bins and not displayed on the wall of expensive records? Such an iconic photo in my mind. 

I've always thought that the people making jazz recordings from the 1950's and 60's had the best sense for cover photography. 

Fantasy Land

The latest dream .....

One where I was depositing into my savings account, a check for 14.2 million dollars that had found its way into my hands. 

Who or where it came from? .... A mystery now that I'm twelve hours removed from dreamland.

Why is my dream world always such a fantasy land? 

Maybe it's all just a reminder to deposit the $71.44 check I have stashed away upstairs?

Or just maybe, my sleep world was making the quick (and accurate) calculations that 14.2 million is the equivalent of what 71.44 was worth a few years ago. 

Diamond Dreams

It was 5-5 in like the eighth inning when I fell asleep. 

I awoke hours later thinking that the Blue Jays had scored three runs in the 13th to win. 

Apparently, the knowledge of the 3-run 13th was part of my dream world.

I checked to make sure of the outcome only to discover the game went scoreless from inning nine until the bottom-of-the 18th when the Dodgers walked off with a win after home run. 

So where did this bogus knowledge originate?

And why the hell would I be dreaming about either of those teams? ..... 

I am moderately anti-Blue Jays and incredibly anti-Dodgers.

I'm a longtime Yankee fan

Rules of Life

One seemingly 100% chance of occurrence or rule in my life (Didn't they used to call these sorts of things, Murphy's Law?)  .... If I put on a clean shirt, within six hours I will spill, splash or drip some form of grease, oil or miscellaneous fluid on it.

Fifteen Minutes

A co-worker came up to me today .... an old basketball playing buddy from years ago who I don't get the chance to talk with much these days.

In the ten to fifteen minutes we talked, we relived a great deal of memories .... mostly stories about old teammates. Some who are also old friends, some not so much, those mostly due to their selfish style of game. 

I've concluded that basketball, more than any other sport or recreational pursuit, is the greatest activity to have twenty-five-plus years of stories wrapped around it.

All the people involved that came and went, stayed briefly or for the long term.

Names and faces long forgotten suddenly brought back to life through stories, myths and memories.

It was the ritualistic gathering of all sorts of souls with one common interest. 

Most abandon it after they leave high school, but we were holdouts.

We went until the acceptance of the reality of time .... and fully (or partially) functioning body parts .... dictated differently.

And most of us probably suffer from the illusion that we could still hoop, because we see it still in our dreams, if only we could remember where and when to show up. 

Record collecting might be a close second. 👴 

Of course, those activities are where I've spent most of my time over the years.

I wonder sometimes how it all ended for each of us.

Looking back at an age 40-something given day .....

I could still play that day ..... and tomorrow and the day after, etc., with no noticeable decline in physical ability or enjoyment.

And it seems like if I could play yesterday, I should be able to play tomorrow and the day after and the day after that into infinity right?

Because we were just talking hours of time and each day is just a few more hours and why can't we just keep on?

So how did the day arrive when it was decided that we had nothing else to give to the game?

(Is this making any sense?) 

With the progression of time in minutes and hours and no sudden identifiable wall to run into along the way, why did it have to end?

And now I think that each passing moment probably held some miniscule and unmeasurable amount of decline and the science and mathematics of it all both saddens and fascinates me. 

As I recall, my tipping point was one evening, walking out to my car and into the winter night, after an evening of hoops, soaked in perspiration and shivering through the drive home. 

That deep chill stayed with me long after.

It wasn't an aching back, a pulled muscle, ten consecutive missed jump shots, or anything like that.

I just didn't want to experience that cold again.  

The next game night came along and I just stayed home ..... and never returned.

For a year or two after, I'd receive encouraging phone calls and messages to come out. 

My response was always: "Maybe next week."

But next week never happened.

Except in dreams that still occasionally materialize and often haunt me.

Believe Me

 I was looking at a website and a list of new album releases coming up and thinking to myself: "I've never heard of any of these people."

A website that just a few years ago would still list a few familiar names.

But apparently something has changed and the old names have vanished.

I started thinking, I wonder if my parents had the same experience, let's say maybe 1972 .... Hmmmm Neil Young, Van Morrison, Bonnie Raitt, Steely Dan, The Who, Little Feat ..... "Who are these people? What happened to the music of my youth?"

And now the music of my youth, which seemingly still had the tiniest of toeholds just two or three years ago .... enough to make an occasional appearance on a new releases list ..... seems to be totally gone and forgotten.

And I was reading about John Lodge from the Moody Blues passing away which I what led me in this direction.

There was a time that I remember when all these names were young and their new music was highly anticipated and exciting and you'd hear it on the radio and people would talk about their favorite radio stations ......

        ...... and everything feels so much different now.

And I lived through those years which still felt at least acknowledged and remembered not that long go. But suddenly feels in the online world, more like a lost time and was it really all that significant?

         ..... and believe me, it was!!! 

The Long Way Home

Two hundred yards away from home after stopping for a DQ dilly bar to calm my pre-Yankee game nerves, but not wanting to attempt a left turn and deal with the seemingly never-ending line of oncoming cars from both directions, so opting to cut that volume in half, I turned right for a quick trip through the neighborhood across the street and to eventually end up with a right turn situation .....

Except that somewhere along that "quick trip" I missed a turn or street and ended up navigating a maze of lookalike streets, avenues, roads and drives with names I failed to recognize and that I'd never traveled before, unsure where I was or what direction I was traveling in before finally stumbling onto the main road I had intended for all along (at least I hadn't bumbled my way into a different town or Seattle or Canada), but now a mile and a half away from home and dealing with the middle school release traffic and its speed limits and student walker crossings slowing everything down and creating gridlock and with melting ice cream in the passenger side of the car.

And I sat there waiting to move and suddenly had waves of memories wash over me of ninth grade basketball and a road game where my school team had visited this very middle school, I was now stuck in traffic in front of ..... and how we had prepared over the previous week back then in 1971 to deal with their star player, the much feared "Bardosi" who I got to know a year or two later in high school and turned out to be a really nice guy  ..... and the news I heard a year or so ago of his passing. 

And there's so many little things that connect us in life ...... 

Life 101 Continued

Feeling pretty down about life and the world and what a lowlife scumbag you've become ("you've" as in me) .....

        and opportunities or long existing dream possibilities you've (meaning me again) messed up and missed out on .....

And then an old friend calls and you spend an hour or two remembering, talking and laughing about the old times and old friends and life these days and whatnot and come away feeling better about yourself and maybe you're not such a lowlife bottom dweller after all, and just that we've all been through stuff and it sometimes shapes how you deal with future chances and that you were never trying to hurt anyone along the way and that we all just have our little oddities and fears about us that cause us to do whatever we unexplainedly choose to do, or fail to do as we attempt to move forward and that sometimes blind us along the way to what might exist in front of us and if we had another chance just maybe could act upon that second chance in a hopefully much better manner and to the approval of everyone involved, which is her and myself .....

......  and I'm probably making somewhere between very little to zero sense but that's ok because I'm just typing here and words just come out in whatever totally random order they choose to and you're trying to just let it flow without editing too much, except to correct spelling and fat fingered typing errors and a year from now if I were to be lucky enough to still be around and am reading this, I likely won't remember what exactly happened in this moment on this day and in this place to kick start all this reaction but I do feel a deep sense of gratitude and appreciation to the friend that called at just the right moment to take your mind off today and what might or might not happen tomorrow and that the totality of life is very much like that first Psychology 101 class that you sat through during freshman year in college, where you were confused and had little awareness of what was going on. 

...... and you realize that as you are just months away from turning 70, you're still facing and hoping to overcome fears and working on figuring out life ..... and even life 101 at that, not to mention life 102 or the even more advanced and complicated life 402, or how ever they numbered those college upper division courses. 

And a sidenote ..... I guess I'm still dealing with feeling a little bothered and hurt since the pretty little dark brown cat (with a little black and gray coloring mixed in), that let me pet it the other evening as I was out walking, approached me upon my afternoon arrival home today, sniffed the cat treats I attempted to provide, turned and walked away ..... which I think I subconsciously interpreted as a sign of my life. 

Potential New Look

While sitting and waiting at a red light ....

Watching an older guy, most likely younger than myself, crossing the street in front of me with the assistance of a walker.

But what I was really taking note of was his button-down sweater.

And then the sudden realization of that's what I need.

I mean, I'm at the right age.

I could pull off this new and hip, older dude look.

And I certainly need a wardrobe update from my usual two or three untucked long sleeved shirts .....

        ..... that look is getting kind of stale.

Hell I could just use a wardrobe at all. 

Old School

Recently returned to mostly 'old school' to get the desired results.

All these new-fangled, high-tech mops (I've tried two or three), never achieve the hoped for goals in difficult to reach places without the distorting of your body in ways that a near 70-year-old struggles mightily to recover from. 

I love the simple and easy features of old school ..... no assembly, no instructions for use with only like 5% new technology to ease the ordeal.

The bathroom floor sure looks pretty now.

I'm nearly happy as can be.

How the Sub–Sandwich Shop and 7-11 May Have Added Longevity to My Life

I ordered my sub sandwich and feeling desperation for a coke, searched the soft drink case only to discover that they carry pepsi products, which I've come to staunchly believe is a sin to accept as a substitute for coke so thought instead that I would stop at the 7-11 down the road for my ice cold coke fix which in fact I've been moderately successful in kicking the habit for the past nearly two years, but was feeling weak tonight.

Farther on, as I approached the 7-11, I noticed a rough estimate of seventeen cars in their parking lot, probably mostly teenagers and 20-somethings, which these days, I mostly try to avoid contact with and combined with preemptively stressing over the eventual departure and the next-to-impossible and highly dangerous (but somehow legal) left turn I would have to attempt for the quickest route home, a left turn I'm not willing to attempt any longer in my senior years at any hour outside of my perceived 1-5:00am window of calm, decided to pass on by, coke-less.

So, no Coca Cola for me tonight!! Which just may have saved my life.

What Could Have Been

This is my kind of luck ....

A word game that I play on my tablet and I see the combination of letters to give me the greatest point total for a single word that I can ever truly have reasonable and believable hopes and expectations to tally. And in this sudden wild state of excitement that I'm feeling, just as I touch the first letter in the formation of the word ..... my tablet freezes up. And I glance at the timer, and I still have thirty seconds and normally when it freezes up, it unfreezes a second or two later, but this time no matter how often I try, the tablet just enters into a deeper freeze.

And that's the kind of luck that circles my existence. Like the time I tripped over a painted line on the basketball court. Or the rare occasion when I ran out the door with time to spare (instead of my usual last second exit) to make it to my destination on time and I encounter a three-minute red light and further ahead, the first car of a 125-car train traveling at five mph and just as the rear end of the train is in sight, it stops and reverses course ..... then forward, reverse, forward, reverse for an additional five or ten minutes.

And a half hour later, I'm still thinking about, frustrated and pissed off at what could have been with that forbidden, once-in-a-lifetime word.

And to top things off, it's supposed to be 102 degrees later today following up a 103 degree day before cooling down to 99 tomorrow. But on the good side of things, at least it's not 102 right now at 3:30 in the morning. 

And I'm looking at my glass of water ..... and thinking that it's less-than-half full which also means it's more than half empty. (It's actually about one-tenth full.) So that's a double negative of sorts to start the morning.

Weird Dream #7836

Awake from a dream that I met the musician who I listened to more than any others in the 1970's, 80's and 90's ..... Jackson Browne. 

That I discovered as it was going on, that he was performing at a local food cart park that I frequent, "These Days" for fish & chips.

..... (Why I dreamed this up? Hell, I don't know. I'm sure that even now in his mid-70's, his skill and reputation demands a greater performance venue than a gathering of food carts.)

I arrived there just moments after it had concluded. 

All there was on the stage, was an empty chair with an acoustic guitar nearby.

I turned to walk away and there he was .... face-to-face. Didn't even see his approach.

"I've listened to your music for a lot of years."

"Which records?" he asked.

"All of them."

The fact that I left my usual character and initiated conversation with someone I'd never met is evidence that it was a wild and bizarre dream. There were a few other words spoken that are blurred from memory these few moments after awakening. It was nice though for a few minutes to exit this aging hermit phase of life that I find myself inhabiting and feel "Alive In the World."

Bigfoot Sighting

Walked out of the freezer into the covered loading dock area and out the door into the sun's warmth and the outside world ...... and functioning gravel parking lot.  

Standing there was a co-worker from the next shift talking to a couple and their toddler. The toddler turned and stared and pointed at me.

Me with gray beard and wearing multiple clothing layers, black freezer gear, separate black hood, thick heavy black gloves and fogged up glasses.

In that instant, I must have looked like the Sasquatch to this curious one-year-old,  

Scene I Can't Forget

I get fascinated with scenes and images from movies and will watch them over and over. Like in the movie 'Tombstone,' when the Earps and Doc Holliday begin their walk to confront "The Cowboys' ..... and they pause and turn for a moment to look at the burning building in the background. There's something in that image that is powerful to me. Is there a message there? Why was the burning building included in the scene? 

Fortune Cookie Blues

 Last night's fortune cookie:

      'You will make many changes before settling satisfactorily.'

Changes? Me? At this age? Really? Did something disrupt the timing of the universe and I drove through the drive-through window when it was supposed to be someone else and received a fortune intended for another?

A I Blues

My alexa dot device can tell me where my phone is .... it would be really helpful though if it could tell me where my keys and wallet are.

Fifty Years

Today was an anniversary.....

Fifty years of going to work at the same place.

Not exactly sure if I have another fifty in me. 

Maybe I'll now revert from my near perfect attendance ways of the last twenty-five years to the calling in on a whim and taking days off, of my early years.

I guess I've been through the "changes in attitudes" .... as Jimmy Buffet once sang.

          ..... Though the latitudes remained the same. 

Dame Time Again

Damian Lillard is coming back!!

I was shocked when I heard a few hours ago ..... and happy as hell.

I thought it might happen eventually, but figured it was still a couple years away.

If you follow basketball and have lived in this area for the past fifteen years .... or all of your nearly 70 years, you know how major this is.

I never wanted the split to begin with though I understood at the time.

I can't adequately express what I'm feeling. 

But my basketball world is right again!! 

In the Distance

It seems to be a frequent occurrence lately ....

Looking through the weekly All Music Guide list of new album releases and not recognizing a single name.

Another example that youth has passed me by and left me far in the distance, standing in a cloud of dust.

I'm proud though of my less than popular listening preferences.

The ambient and weird jazz sounds. 

The 'American primitive guitar' sounds.

Select indie-rock, Americana bands and singer/songwriters. 

Music with mandolins, cellos and acoustic bass employed.

..... and lately, the tones of a trumpet.

I like to think that if my compact disc and vinyl collection were a music store it would be a fascinating dig for someone seeking different sounds.

Changes

I sometimes think that I have become a hideous freak.

Please don't ask me to explain because I can't ..... well maybe partially I can but don't care to.

I've just become consumed with this feeling over the past year. 

Concerned with being seen out in the world by others.

Wanting to avoid places where there are shadows or reflections.

Wanting to mostly hide from the world. 

I don't mind being around co-workers because they've seen me daily all through this change in self-esteem and the time leading up to it. I feel accepted there.

But around others, I'm not so comfortable.

I saw an old classmate (first grade through high school) in the store a few months ago ..... an old 7th and 9th grade basketball teammate and someone I've crossed paths with occasionally since those school days ..... I recognized him from a distance and turned and went the other way, afraid to approach him because of this place I've come to in life and how I view myself.

Is getting older a graceful and painless process for anyone?

Does it change everyone?

Does anyone survive it intact?

Sunset Therapy

From a couple evenings ago. To my way of thinking, there's no such thing as too many gorgeous sunsets. Or that after a while they all begin to look alike. I stood there in awe. Never becoming routine, everything else in life can wait while this visual played itself out.

First Visit

Finally!! A dream that makes sense in my world.

I've been looking forward to, after a year and a half, the re-opening of a record store in town tomorrow.

Had a dream tonight about that initial walking-in-the-door moment.

Within three or four minutes, I had four albums in hand.

And I get to do it all again tomorrow!! 

And actually, looking at the time, later today.

Various Notes

• One of my fatal flaws (there's many) ...... I hear a song on the radio and automatically think, "That record would look good in my collection."
• A few weeks ago, I ran into an old friend. Last night I crossed paths with his brother, an even older friend. While we spoke, a lady approached and advised (jokingly) not to believe his stories. "Oh, I've heard them all for fifty years" I replied.
• I guess it speaks to musicians and record labels customer appreciation levels when the record being shipped from England, which was in my mailbox yesterday, arrives before the record shipping from Portland, (fifty miles away), and ordered on the same day, which still hasn't arrived.

Mom Stuff

Looking at this painting that my mom created and that my sister gave to me two or three years ago. I don't know if it would be considered as a quality piece of art, but even if not so, it holds great value to me. I think she probably painted this in her fifties or sixties. I wonder if she had an interest in painting in her youth that was put on hold to raise five children, one with special needs and requiring constant attention and extra care? I know that she loved playing the piano but don't recall being aware of an interest in painting until after all her kids were out of the house and on their own. 

The Anticipation

Remembering tonight, and feeling once again, the excitement first felt over fifty years ago .... maybe fifty-five even.

The night before the day of release, of an album I've been aware of and anticipating greatly for several months. 

Looking forward to the new sounds about to be heard.

And if somehow the initial impression isn't up to what I'm hoping for .... allowing the time needed to appreciate it for its own qualities and changing or alternate directions.

The anticipation is real.

For a record collector, the thrill of this moment is genuine.

Even all these years later, it apparently never fades away.

Lessened (slightly), only by waiting for the notification that it has arrived at your front door or in your snail mailbox as opposed to the drive to and from the record store. 

Broken In

A new warehouse is being built at work.

It's not even completely finished yet but it's already been "broken in."

Two people were caught in the act (allegedly) of doing the wild thing.

June Hoops

Somewhat listening to various talking faces on radio and television pontificating on the NBA finals.

And they rarely say anything but the most blatantly obvious.

And they always talk like whoever won the last game is in total control of the series.

But the fact is that what appears to be an advantage one day, often becomes a disadvantage the next because things like three-point shooting are far from being predictable and consistent and some players who makes 5/6 today may quite possibly make 1/7 the next day and vice versa with the other guy representing the other town and wearing a different jersey and in this age of hoops, that becomes a big part of the difference.

And these talking faces keep asking the same pointless questions and get the same meaningless responses from the appointed genius's and gurus and often others who have done far more talking than ever playing of the game and gaining an understanding of how these things really work where there are humans involved and not robots and there's ten billion different movements that occur in each ten second span between the ten players on the court and replicating the same exact steps you made the previous time and possessing the exact same physical and mental frame of mind, attitude and aggressiveness which resulted in success 30 seconds ago is next to impossible the next time up or down the court. 

And extending that mindset to two days later is often more difficult than it was when it was impossible so nothing remains the same and everything is constantly changing.  

        (And I guess that's true not only in basketball but for life in general.)

And when this series was made and everyone was saying OKC (Seattle) was the huge favorite to win and I was laughing, thinking that Indiana had just as good a chance as OKC (ummmm, I mean Seattle) ..... and I want so badly to say: "I told you so" but I can't do that because I never actually told anyone.

6/19 edit .... And now there's going to be a game seven. And after nearly all the talking faces were prognosticating a four-game sweep.

Losing Old Hurt

Spoke with my ex-wife yesterday.

It had been a while. 

Had to remind myself that we are not in our twenties anymore. 

I tend to revert back while in mid-conversation.

I mean, I can't explain that feeling. 

It's just a mental thing. You just go back to subconsciously being young again.

She's moved around a lot since we split up. 

Eventually finding her way back to Oregon a few years ago when we talked for the first time since we had split up .... over forty years ago. 

And just recently moved back to New Hampshire mentioning the cost of living in Oregon as a reason why.  

It's been nice to establish a friendship after so many years where it was assumed that we'd never have contact again.

It was needed, losing the hurt that was present for so long.

Sage Advice

If you are ever in the midst of a call to your banks automated teller to obtain current balance and activity information and sense a seasonal allergy fueled sneezing fit coming on .... hang up immediately.

Automated Teller: "What can I help you with?"

Me: "Savings account balance."

AT: "OK. Your savings account balance is ...."

Me: "Achoo! Achoo! Achoo! Achoo!"

AT: "I don't understand your request"

Me: "Savings ....  ACHOO, ACHOO .... Account ....  ACHOO, ACHOO, ACHOO .... recent .... ACHOO .....

AT: "I don't understand your request"

Me: "ACHOO."

AT: "You want to see if a check has cleared?"

Me: "NO! ACHOO, damnit!!

AT: "I don't understand your request."

At about that point I uttered an f-bomb (I hope the automated teller understood that) and I hung up. 

Trending Towards Geek Status

Things I love that you'd likely not suspect ..... or little-known facts that no one else knows about me .....

Cards, buttons, pins, stickers, postage stamps, bookmarks, photos, magnets, etc

As long as there's an interesting image, artwork or thought displayed on such things. 

Don't believe me? Then go through the various drawers in desks and stands where I live. 

     ..... You'll find various spots where these objects have been accumulating. 

Probably of zero value to anyone but myself. 

I enjoy remembering the stories and events behind each.  

     ...... Where I found them. A song or memory that I'm reminded of. An emotion felt in the past .... or today.

Ripped Off

I feel so ripped off. I ordered a Ron Swoboda baseball card on eBay. In a Yankee uniform, from one of my favorite early 70's, Topps series and card styles (1971). ..... It arrived. I flipped to the backside of the card and it's blank. No tidbits, height, weight or baseball statistics. Those are as important to me as the image on the front of the card. 

Obviously not an original ..... unless it's one of those original errors I've read about before, making the card worth thousands of $$$. I have doubts though.

I guess I should have noticed the photo of the blank backside of the card on the eBay page that I ordered from. Upon a second look, it's right there for all to see. Feeling mislead though, I mean one just assumes some things. I don't think I'll be ordering the Ron Klimkowski or Fred Stanley cards. 

Truth or Fantasy?

Maybe it was just another of my weird dreams?

Or a cruel joke being played on me by a higher power?

Maybe a bit of delirium when I was sick for a few days?

But I thought I saw a television commercial about Reese's Peanut Butter cups adding jelly to the mix.

Which kind of caused a moment of over-excitement.

But I haven't seen them in the stores yet.

Is this a reality or just a fantasy scenario that I developed?

Building hype but not having them available and in place is a sin.

Dreaming of Old Days

Awake at an odd hour from another dream.

The dream ..... In the gym at the middle school, I once attended ..... a site where a group of us would gather each Sunday evening for I don't know how many years to play basketball. Between this place and another gym, it had to be at least twenty years for me.

There were two other guys from the old crowd.

We were bemoaning those days gone by and never to be experienced again .... though still holding on to hope. (In the dream not real life.)

We started with some jogging around the gym ..... more like sprint or line drills at quarter speed.

Why? I don't think any of us loved running unless it was in an actual game.

Eventually several other people arrived ..... like forty or fifty (mostly) strangers. 

There were a couple teammates from those middle school teams, one covered in upper body tattoos.

And also, my best buddy growing up.

My ex-wife even walked in .... and in a blink of an eye, was gone again.

During those years this is where I could be found on 95% of Sunday evenings.

Year round, not just traditional basketball season.

Any Sundays that fell on Christmas Eve was no play but that was it (as I recall). 

There was a core group of 10-15 guys and then maybe another 10-15 who would drop in occasionally.

Almost always enough for full court games with several in wait.

We would shoot free throws to determine teams. First five to make were one team, second five were another, any remaining sat and cycled in for the next game. 

There was one guy, who when we found ourselves waiting together to get into the next game, we'd talk jazz records.

The numbers would dwindle on the hottest days of summer then jump back up under tolerable conditions.

We knew where the light switch was but not the switch for air conditioning.

Most everyone brought a basketball ..... we would choose the best one for the game.

Usually a Wilson Jet.

Several times, the best ball belonged to a guy who on occasion would get upset and do the proverbial and abrupt, 'take his ball and go home' thing.

He was the youngster among us oldsters and still had a little bit of baby in him.

He thought that he never fouled anyone ..... he found out how wrong he was when we recruited him one year to play on our city league basketball team and he ended up in constant foul trouble.

(He had a football background and playing basketball with referees was a new thing for him.)

Games would go to seven baskets but you had to win by two field goals ...... or to eleven baskets max if the two-goal difference was never reached.

When two teams of old guys are having trouble making shots, a game to seven can last a while.

Occasionally a game would get pretty feisty with actual defensive efforts being made and rough fouls committed.

Had there not been a field goal limit, or school with students arriving the next morning, some of those games might still be going on today.

But mostly it was just fun.

The camaraderie between all of us was as enjoyable as the actual games. 

Days I still think about often.

With specific moments still burned into memory.

Oooppps

My phone commenced ringing.

It was the boss .... (not Bruce Springsteen) .... I thought about not answering ..... but I did.

Boss: "What are you doing here?"

Me: "What do you mean?"

Boss: "You're supposed to be on vacation."

Me: "I took Tuesday and Wednesday."

Boss: "No, you took the 12th and 13th."

(Strategic moment of silence.)

Me: Expletive deleted .... though it started with an 'F.' 🤣

Boss: "Go home, enjoy your day."

I hope they appreciate the dedication shown .... working on my vacation day.

Seeing (Aging) Things

Today, saw what I thought, was the same older guy at three different spots around town.

It was probably three different guys but at the instant of each sighting, I thought otherwise.

Maybe it's just that all of us old geezers look the same?

At the least, it seemed noteworthy. 

Flipping through records in the 'Indie Rock' section at the record store and getting excited after every twenty or so records.

Not because it was a new release by a musician I enjoy and collect but rather because it was a recognizable name.

It seems like I'm becoming more and more separated from popular culture leaving me feeling un-hip.

I tend to think it's a case of this particular store catering to a younger crowd. 

But when the owner said: "Long time, no see." ....... 

Well maybe it's because I feel the need to constantly check online reference sites for most of what I see in there.

Seems pretty simple ..... If he wants to see me visit more often, then have more stuff that I am tempted to take home.

Advice From the Aged and Weary

What's it called?

The sins of youth? Errors of youth?

Whatever it is, I've reached the point in the last year or two where one looks back over all the previous hundred years and recognizes about 168 things that they wish they had done differently in their lifetime.

Where it's too late to reverse the damage.

Where you wish you'd had paid attention to what your parents told you.

Gotten into good practices and habits early.

There's at least one thing I can claim to have accomplished and is a source of pride.

I've stayed away from serious debt and for the last twenty-five or thirty years, any debt.

It's a freeing feeling.

That would be my advice if approached by a person of youth and asked.

Next might be, if you have the hookups, buy a washer and dryer. 

It's so nice to be able to do your laundry at home. 🤣

Old Friend

Ran into an old friend at the grocery store.

For a few minutes it was like we were the same age as when we last spoke.

          Which was probably (shockingly) twenty-ish years ago.

Or even teenagers again.

You just get transported back to those days. 

And then, the R-word was mentioned. (Because us geezers at this not quite there but closing in on 70 years milestone, apparently can't converse without mentioning the R-word.)

And the realization that so much has changed. 

And I don't know what my point is other than I find myself once again standing there feeling old.

Because we're not going to get together tomorrow or next week and play basketball like we once did.

We're far beyond that point in life.

We'd probably spend more time helping each other up from the ground.

Though I did enjoy the brief chat.

Then and Now

When they first built it, I was terrified.

How was I going to navigate such a thing?

You know how in 'Field of Dreams' the voice said: "If you build it, they will come"?

Well, I avoided it like the plague ..... This new-fangled round-about. 

Now I think they ought to have them at every intersection.

We don't need no stinkin' traffic lights.

Assumed Senior Blues

I get asked occasionally, seemingly by those in a deep state of wonder, how the hell do I keep showing up for work each day? ......

I don't know, I just keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Doesn't seem all that difficult yet, even at this advanced age.

And it appears that I'll be able to keep up this regimen tomorrow.

Attempting Words

I think it's kinda funny .....

I occasionally come up with these bursts of words where I produce an attempt at poetry.

And I don't know if any of these attempts are any good or not ......

But once I reach a point where I think an effort or burst might be finished, I'll sit back in the days after and maybe add a word or a line .... but I'll look at it, read it out loud and think:

           "Wow!! I did that? That sounds decent. I've covered everything now of these mixed-up thoughts and feelings and emotions running through my head. 

I'll never be able to follow that with something new."

But then a month or two will pass and I'll experience another burst of thoughts and reactions.

And I don't know if that's considered as prolific or not? ......

Flashbacks and Memories

A rare two-day weekend away from work so I went out for breakfast this morning.

As I sat in the parking lot of the grocery store eating my biscuits and gravy, I thought about so many spring and autumn Saturday mornings, at least twenty years in my rear-view mirror, spent just two blocks away involved with youth soccer programs put on by the city.

(Winters were spent on numerous basketball courts around town and youth basketball.)

I decided to do a drive-by. 

Upon driving into the complex, I immediately recognized the red and navy-blue colors of the city staffers.

Being the rebel that I am, I would occasionally flout the navy-blue requirement, wearing black shorts instead. 

I'm sure I was spoken to once or twice about this and my boatrocking ways.

I was a little surprised today, to see the red and blue as I thought these city programs had fallen to budget cuts shortly after I last walked away.

(From what I've been reading lately, the future of such programs is once again in question depending on an upcoming vote on city funding.)

I assumed that another organization had filled the void.

I know it's cliche, but it's been at least twenty years since my last involvement and as I sat in the parking lot observing and overcome by flashbacks and memories, it felt like very recent history. 

I used to get so anxious the evening before and in the early morning of these youth soccer days but once I stepped on the fields and got busy, the anxiety would quickly fade and I'd be fine. 

I wondered today, if I hadn't walked away when I did, if I'd still be out there on these Saturday mornings and how credible my voice would be?

I used to think it was a job for the younger folks and even though I knew people appreciated seeing me out there year after year, was there a point where the ability to relate to an eight-year-old and be viewed as credible to that child's parents, began to fade or lessen?

I still remember that last day, I had spent the spring season that year, not involved with program coordination like I had for so many years before, but just refereeing games. I had worked two or three games at a field that was not my normal site, and had driven away afterwards, 95% certain that it was my last day.

But there was this little sliver of doubt (or hope) and the thought that just maybe I'd be back.

There was actually one more week of the program, but I called in sick ..... the first time in 25-ish years, other than for my nephew's funeral, that I had missed time.

I was thinking the demise of the city's youth soccer and basketball programs was coming.

I was offered some work two or three times in other city programs and had said, "No thanks."

And that was it. 

I never really felt like I quit and was proud to say that.

This current program appears quite scaled down compared to in my days.

We often used every available inch of space from 8am to 4 or 5pm. 

And one thing I don't miss in the least or mourn its absence in my life is the ceremonial gathering up of  the nets from soccer goals at the end of the day, proclaimed a vital duty and often wet, stinky .... both the nets and I .... and clinging to every blade of loose grass to later be deposited all over clothing and car interiors.

I dreaded the final whistle of games, knowing that it still was nowhere close to time to go home.

That I still had that chore ahead of me ..... often done in silent solitude as my softie persona fell for every hard luck story and excuse laid on me by staff who wanted to depart from the scene as soon as the final second ticked of the game watch.   

I probably uttered: "Go ahead and take off. I'll take care of the nets" dozens of times in that life.

They (the-powers-that-be) never placed such importance on basketball nets, a sport much more enjoyable and meaningful to a person's quality of life in my estimation.

That Day

Listening to an interview with Herb Pedersen, who has an album from the 1970's that I love called, 'Southwest' and at one point he's speaking of what he was doing the day that JFK was assassinated and how everyone my age and older, remembers where they were that day and I had a chill run through me just thinking of what I was doing when the news broke and here's someone else, 2000 miles away, present in and speaking of those same moments  ...... and the world feels a little smaller now.

And it was just this 'WOW' moment this morning, hearing someone remembering that time and what they were doing while I was halfway across the country also living in that instant.

And maybe it's already been done but if not, then I think there's a book in there, collecting all these anecdotes and stories of people remembering that day from different points across the country and what they were doing.

Trash Talking

This guy who I occasionally engage in basketball trash talk and fake boasting with, likes to tell me about his single game scoring record that he supposedly holds for the rural small town high school that he attended.

And every time he tells the story, he adds three or four points to what he previously claimed. 

And I'm always like: Big f'ing deal! I could have scored that many points against that pissant level of competition in the first quarter, playing left-handed, and after just polishing off the concession stands supply of hot dogs.

And I always wonder why he keeps embellishing his claim.

And just maybe it's because he was still in high school at age 30 ... 32 .... 35, etc., breaking his own records in both single game points and GPA.

Collected Attempts

Am I considered prolific yet?

I've currently posted 107 'attempts' at poetry, spread over twelve years of posting, on my attempted poetry blog page. 

There are probably 10-15 others that haven't been posted.

It dawns on me (said semi-seriously) that 95% of these efforts are (possibly) drawn from .... or have some sort of remote and unexplainable connection at the least to the same life altering event. 

I may be exaggerating that percentage but that's my perception. (And it sounded good to me.)

Funny how certain events, 'scar' you for life. (Said semi-sarcastically.)

Though if I'm ever going to have a several hundred pages, hardcover version of my collected works .... like the ones on my bookcase by Auden, Harrison, Rilke, Lowell, etc., I better get busy.

Another Record Store Day

Another Record Store Day, come and gone.

I celebrated with a pop-in visit. 

Probably didn't stay more than ten minutes. Personal covid practices and routines continue in some ways. I rarely stay in one indoor space for very long.

I had two RSD releases on my shopping list. Got one of them.

Gave a second or two consideration to one or two others but eventually flipped on by.

Picked up Peter Gabriel's, 'Ovo.'

I have it on compact disc, but this is the initial vinyl release (so I read.)

Two records .... one on blue vinyl, the other on orange. The blue sure is pretty. 

Though I generally don't care for colored vinyl but if anything, I am a man of vinyl contradictions.

I'm also trying to be a Peter Gabriel completist.  

This evening, I see it listed on Amazon for $115. How does Amazon get RSD releases? I thought they were for independent physical shops only?

Anyway, I got it for a lot less than $115. Though it certainly wasn't inexpensive.

Continued the celebration afterwards by stopping by the bakery next door for a dinner of biscuits and gravy and a cinnamon roll for dessert. 

The lady sitting at the adjacent table was attempting to teach her 10-ish year-old daughter, the rules and strategy of chess. Something I've never learned.

I pretended to be consumed by whatever was on my phone, but I was actually eavesdropping. 

I should have listened more closely .... I still don't know how to play chess.

I'd be at the mercy of the ten-year-old.

Sunday

Saw an old grades 1-12 classmate from afar in the grocery store today.

We were basketball teammates for a couple of those years .... I've wondered if he remembers.

We may have even served mass together as altar boys two or three times.

We've crossed paths occasionally over the years and he always recognized me.

But today, I was afraid to approach him and say hello today.  

He doesn't appear to have gained a pound since we were 18 years old and I ..... well, I look like the aging, mirror avoiding, low self-esteem, Howard Hughes-ish mess that I've become these days. 

Not something I feel good about. 

___________________________

In the bookstore earlier.

If it's not on shelf four or above, there's not much chance I'm going to discover it.

I just don't want to go down to my knees to search the lower shelves.

Afraid of the effort needed to get back to my feet.

Afraid that I'll fall into the bookcases.

Good thing that there's usually just one level in vinyl record stores. 

And that anything lower is generally reserved for the $1 records. 

________________________

On good days, I used to be able to palm outdoor basketballs (never could palm the Wilson Jet) ..... so why can't I hold onto each of six loose socks on my walk from the dryer to the bedroom? Why is there always one or two lost along the way?

Unfulfilled Anticipation

So, I survived the great (and rare) western Oregon tornado, golf ball sized hail, near hurricane force winds, thunder and lightning, torrential rain outbreak that was predicted for yesterday afternoon into the evening.

My survival aided by the fact that all we got was a super normal, generic spring rainfall.

Though I did find myself driving home, eyeing the sky in multiple directions and wondering if every cloud was the beginnings of a funnel cloud.

In the 24-48 hours prior, they had made it sound almost like the end of life as we knew it was arriving soon.

Some friends reported a tad bit of thunder and lightning.

But there was barely a whimper in my part of town.

Today I listened to the stories of fellow survivors, most feeling a little let down at the lack of expected and almost anticipated excitement as this event had been predicted and hyped for a few days. 

Sunday Notes

I really ought to consider beforehand, the degree of difficulty when pondering a new acquisition to hang from my walls.

On a semi-related note, I think I have identified my decorating style .... Post Modern Random Abstract Clutter.

Semi-related note number two ..... Don't attempt to carry more than one awkward handling, bulky item down, (or up I imagine), the stairs at a time. Especially if there's no one there to catch you as you fall.

Pictures and art are not hung on the wall to any precise measurements, spacing or specifications. But they do have to pass the, "Looks good to me," test. Which is very strict and demanding in its own way, except for when it's not, which is most of the time.

Looking Young

Wow!!

Yesterday, I was told that I looked young in the face.

I immediately began blushing uncontrollably.  

Good thing that the rest of me was completely covered in work gear.

Good thing that I wasn't attempting to claim my senior discount.

Good thing that it wasn't today and/or under different lighting.

But it was nice to hear. And it made my day.

Sudden Sense

Woke up in the middle of the night last night, after earlier hearing some not-so-great health news from my sister and had the terrible sense of being alone in the world.

I had to sit up, open my eyes and slow down the thoughts and fears. 

Hopefully just a false alarm. Hopefully we all (siblings) have several good years left.

Considering our ages, odds are that I won't be the last remaining, but you never know how things work out.

I used to joke that even though I was the oldest, it was my goal to outlive them.

It's not so funny any longer.

Running Man

I mourn that I can't run like I once did.

There's no pain or anything causing limitations.

My knees just refuse to perform the required bending.

I'm reminded of the Seinfeld episode whereas they are running through an airport, Kramer tells George:  

          "You run like a girl."  ..... no offense intended towards girls. 

The only time I even attempt it anymore is when I want to get out of the cold.

I used to be proud of how fast I could get down the first base line. 

And the voice inside of me keeps putting the thought out there that I can still do it.

But my knees have declared: "Enough!!"

And what is more comedic than a (almost) 70-year-old man attempting a full sprint?

Other News and Notes .....

• I wish I knew more words.
• The stray cat that I've been feeding, is waiting at my front door when I arrive home most afternoons, I feed it, and after feasting it vanishes, leaving me feeling so used.
• The co-worker has me figured out. He's observed that I can't wait for the office to clear out and the noise to fade away so I can do my duties in peace and quiet. 
• Getting ready for work each morning has become a 77-step process, packed into ten frenzied minutes, all choreographed to arrive one minute before start time. 
• My fortune cookie: "You could prosper in the field of education." Gee thanks!! I could have used that advice fifty years ago.

Unexpected Thrill

I get overly excited about strange and weird things.

Like walking into the used bookstore and discovering a jazz vinyl recording, that's almost as old as I am.

'Rhythm Crazy' by Jimmy Cleveland (trombone player) from 1959 on the EmArcy record label.

Attracted by the cover design and that it was recorded in the decade I was born. And also, that he's a trombonist. Excited to walk in the door and stumble upon vinyl that demands my attention. That's the main point for me .... that I unexpectedly came across the record. That's when life seems so cool and as if I'm being rewarded for my diligence. It was surrounded by choices, far more recent, modern sounding and projected shiny appearance. But I get excited about simple and historic. 

Discovery

Just when I begin to think (once again), that at any given moment there's no new and exciting music left to discover, I find out (once again) how wrong I am.

There are always creators out there with ideas running through their heads.

And it just takes one of those ideas to touch and resonate and get me excited again.

Occasionally it's even something old that's been given up on and forgotten and suddenly is heard differently ..... or at a different, more receiving moment.

Or with disparate ears and expectations.

And it's like the first time when you became excited about something.

_________________________________

At a certain point of life, you just can't think of the future too much,

You did what you did to survive to this age but looking ahead eventually becomes too overwhelming and intimidating when you start factoring in the age you find yourself at and the acceptance of your mortality.

You can do things that may help with the future, but you need to be grounded in day to day living.

Enjoy the current moment and look to (literal) tomorrow.

Card Mania

Saw some listings for a 1967 Mickey Mantle baseball card that I have.

$201 for good condition, $1145 for near mint and $16,500 for mint. 

If card grading is anywhere near vinyl record grading, then mine has to be somewhere between very good and near mint.

Maybe I should check out all my original Mantles, Mays, Gibsons, and other assorted 1960's and 70's superstars?

Don't know if I could ever give them up but could I possibly be sitting on a pile of cash?

I was dumb enough at one point in my 20's or early 30's, to trade two or three Pete Rose rookie cards for some assorted Yankees. 

At the time, I actually thought I was getting the better end of that ill-considered deal. 

I mean, I was getting two or three dozen Yankees after all!! 

To me, even an obscure, fringe Yankee prospect that never panned out was more valuable than a rookie Pete Rose.

And to think ..... my brother named his first-born son after that guy that fleeced me.

I started spending my nickels and dimes back then on card packs with the 1964 season.

Yes, young freaks, we used to get packs of five (or ten?) for a nickel ..... and with a stick of bubble gum included. 

And I still remember the penny or two more expensive packs purchased on family vacation stops in Montana, (along the South Dakota trail) ..... My rude awakening to sales tax.

Temporary Senior Blues Again

For all the yapping I do about it, I seriously considered the R-word for a few hours this morning.

Woke up feeling like dog poop and did not feel up to getting up, getting ready and going into work.

At the time it felt like top ten, one of the toughest things I've ever done.

          (May be exaggerating a little.) 

Proceeded to drag my azz (skinny or fat, I'm never sure), around for several hours.

Eventually decided that the cause stemmed from my cooking the evening before.

Four or five hours later, I was feeling semi-feisty (for me) again.

Why can't I be like seemingly every other person my near my age and just do it?? (The R-word that is.)

Why can't I just spell out the R-word?

Awake Again

Awake again I can't pretend ..... (Jackson Browne lyric from 1974.)

Awake from a dream that I was playing high school baseball.

And in, way over my head.

Playing against the South Salem Saxons. They had the reputation of being the snob school.

          As I recall. 🤣

Stuck in right field and warned by the coach that the batted balls would be flying my way.

He wasn't wrong. And I was playing much too shallow and reacting way too slowly.

Balls were flying over my head. Whizzing by to the right and left.

Batting ninth in the order, I had my first at bat in the second inning. 

I couldn't find a bat that I liked. All too heavy.

My practice swings were way too slow. 

In real life and in the loosely organized teenage summer leagues I played in, I was terrified of the left handers.

Afraid of getting hit by a fastball. I'd stand in there against the righties and bravely hack away but those wild-eyed lefties always frightened me.

To this day, I'm still thankful that two of the most intimidating lefties were on my team and I never had to face them.

          But there were others. 

And I've digressed .....

Of course in this nightmare, I'd be facing a lefty. 

But he took pity on me, soft tossing and quick pitching to someone he saw as an easy out.

I worked the count to three and two ..... mostly by leaving the bat on my shoulder and not swinging. 

I did smack a little weak liner ..... foul ball down the first base/right field line.

I figured the ump was not in a mercy extending mood, so I swung at the 3-2 pitch.

          And popped up behind the plate to the catcher.

At least I didn't strike out swinging .... or even worse, looking.

On my way back to the bench, I reached out with one arm and caught a guy who had slipped and was free falling down a steep incline. At least I performed one good deed.

I woke up before I had to take the field again. 

Give me the comfort of basketball playing dreams.

Even the ones where I couldn't make a shot weren't as horrifying as this. 

Why am I dreaming about baseball? I've never even fantasized about that.

And why the two things I feared most? .... Playing the outfield and facing a lefty?

Hopefully not to be continued when I drift back to sleep.

I wonder if the fit bit smart watch that I'm wearing, records the alternating moments of embarrassment and terror that I felt?

The R-Word Again

Another co-worker retired as of yesterday and as he was saying goodbye and shaking my hand, I had the feeling that he was regretting his decision.

Or maybe replaying in his thoughts all the years that have passed by.

His supposed moment of joy felt like he was consumed with sadness. 

I hope my sense was wrong.

I hope he's sitting at home right now, happy with his decision and mightily elated about a future engaging in other things. 

I get asked about it often. 

When is my last day?

My plan is to have no plan.

Because I really have no idea.

I don't want to admit that it's time ..... that I need to go.

It feels too final to me, too life altering, too much uncertainty about what would be ahead.

And besides, I want no part of a countdown to a last day.

No party, no cake, no goodbyes. 

(I think that I've mentioned about a thousand times that I don't like goodbyes.)

I want to wake up one morning, decide to take the day off, maybe extend it into a second day, decide that I don't want to hear my wake-up alarm going off any longer ..... and eventually just never return.

And I've currently arranged things so that in a position to go out that way.

          I do feel some joy about that.