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?