When Grace Seems in Short Supply

It has, admittedly, been a rough couple of weeks.  This comes on the heels of a rough year (this posting).  Yet while I can (and sometimes do) complain about things, the reality is this:  There are bigger...and with apologies to English teachers everywhere*... "worser" things afoot.  

As I write this, the news is consumed by events in Minnesota.  Specifically...

Alex Pretti Shot and Killed by ICE Agents

...which is just a kind of punctuation mark in a larger story about control, violence and the desire of one man to retain political power for the rest of his life.  A story that is still being written and with an ending that can't come soon enough.  We know the ending already, by the way, in that his mortal coil will fail at some point, and the United States will be left to sort through the damage.  I suspect that I won't live to see how long that will truly take.  Maybe that's a good thing.

The last time I felt this way was during the events of 9.11, when it all just seemed so overwhelming.  This comes from a place inside of me whereby I can't really fathom an event, where it seems surreal in a very horrible way.  I do feel a certain degree of anxiety that is widely generalized, a kind of pall that falls over me where nothing I seem to do takes me out of my own head for any length of time.  I tried cleaning, which usually works, but that didn't help.  I'll do some work stuff later, which may help, but that's got its own set of issues.  Writing this is helping...a little bit...which I suppose is better than nothing.

I did try to divorce myself from the news and social media, but that didn't last long.  Like a moth attracted to a lamppost on a dark night, I feel drawn to the horribleness of this event.  It's like part of me is searching for a big revelation, but yet nothing is in the offing.  There is, instead, a kind of societal rot that has been creeping into the collective us, where part of the net product is trying to understand why our government is killing American citizens.  It's a kind of end to something that we once took for granted.

  

Let's just hope that some sense of Grace returns to this country.  We desperately need it.

(*) Including my oldest daughter, Katrina.

2025: A View from the Gutter

I am coming up, in about 4 months, to my 62nd rotation around the sun.  That's a lot of years, and I am both thankful and blessed to be here typing at this very moment (make that "moments", as this will no doubt get written in pieces).  There have been good years...such as any year when any of my daughters were born...and there have been bad years.  I think that, when all is said and done, the dust is settled, and the ink is dry, 2025 will turn out to be far more on the negative side of life's ledger (and not just for me).

While I don't talk about it much, losing my brother Joe was tough.  It's kind of like losing a part of your own body...a part where the loss doesn't physically harm you...but you still feel a tiny bit less complete.  It's also a realization that there is one fewer person on the planet who sort of understood things about our growing up, one less witness.  I've already told my brother Rich he's not allowed to die.

On the national front, I think we, as a nation, are suffering from a kind of chaos fatigue.  It's as if the current president is in a continual race to the bottom, except for the fact that there is no bottom to be reached.  We collectively just sit and watch while another cruel act is ordained, another late-night social media tirade is launched, and another group is maligned for no real reason other than being different.  The specific group doesn't matter by the way, as yesterday's Somali will be tomorrow's other marginalized group.  The fact that we have 3 more years of this is enough to make someone want to just crawl into a cave and wait it out.  In the end, and regardless of politics, no country or leader was "great" because of who they hated.  Let that one sink in for a bit.

Another loss in 2025 was that of my father-in-law, the Rev. David Rivers.  There are times when you meet people who are just so diametrically different than what you've experienced before in your life that you end up being changed in ways that can be equal parts subtle and yet profound.  That was David.  The world is now smaller, a bit less fun, and certainly not nearly as wise with him gone.  The only real consolation is the fact that some of his best traits are manifest in his children, especially his oldest daughter Christine.

As a relatively crappy year, I naturally decided to deal with a long-standing health issue, resulting in a late November surgery.  I am glad that it's over, but as I creep into my early 60's, I'm reminded that every machine wears over time...both the mechanical and physiological ones.  I need to take better care of my own machinery.  That's far easier said than done. 

On the professional front, I am at a sunset, if you will, of my working career.  That's equal parts relieving and terrifying.  I continue to push myself a bit too far, a point that others have made on more than one occasion.  I was raised, if you will, in a working world where there was a kind of constant competition.  That kind of ethos doesn't actually depend on specific circumstances...it just exists in whatever reality I work in...whether it makes sense or not.  Some things just don't come with an off switch.  Yet the lack of such an off switch meant that, in 2025, I did far, far less of the things outside of work that I enjoy, basically just hopping between stressful work assignments.  As I stare down the time off days I am losing, it's pretty clear that I have been far crueler to myself than I would ever tolerate in someone else.  None of the above is to claim that I don't find myself in a working environment that may be more demanding than it should be, but in the end, the only real resource and decision-making powers I actually have are over myself.

So goodbye 2025.  Don't let the door hit you in the tuchus on the way out.

As for 2026, the beauty of a new year is just that...it is new.  While I know I'll probably make mistakes (I/we always do) there is also promise and potential.  Here's to going into the new year a bit smarter for the wear, and a bit more kind...to ourselves and to each other.  I think our nation needs it, desperately.

(Fun facts:  This song paraphrases the quote reference in the title and the late Brigitte Bardot)

Glittering Prizes and Endless Compromises

I love the song "Spirit of Radio" by Rush.  

Mind you that this has nothing really to do with the posting, but that doesn't change the fact that it's a great song.

By way of actual intention, consider this to be something of an update of sorts to my last posting.  To that point, I can report that a week + from the surgery that I am pretty close to being back to normal, with a few exceptions noted.  These include the fact that I will continue to be under lifting restrictions for a while to come and not being able to wear pants that have a belt is something of a challenge. I can live with both, by the way, thanks in part to my having stocked up on sweat and parachute pants.  Ms. Rivers also continues to ground me in reality every time I propose to do something stupid.  Which is often.

In hindsight, this has been more difficult than I imagined.  While I expected some pain after the main event, it ended up being more significant than I thought.  Not unmanageable, by any stretch, but more than I expected.  I'm talking about three nights sleeping in a chair, uncomfortable as it was.  And I hate sleeping in a chair, for the record.  The Hillbilly Heroin prescribed for the first three nights (well enough to cover three nights...) was helpful, but doing even the most basic things was a chore.  Now, the baseline level of pain is more like a mild discomfort, and I more or less don't get the throbbing pain from strenuous acrobatic activities such as "getting up" and "standing".  As I told someone at work, it feels like I have been getting better at a rate of about 5% per day.

Ms. Rivers and I, both being older than younger, still remember a time when these types of things resulted in overnight hospital stays.  To be honest, and fully in hindsight, I don't know that being in a hospital overnight or longer would have sped up my recovery.  This is in part due to the fact that your average hospital is in fact one of the least restful places you can find yourself at any given time.  This is out of necessity, which I get, but while sleeping in a chair at home I don't have to hear a buzzer coming from another room (for example).  And the lights are off.  What the same day surgery thing does require is a bit of diligence and reading comprehension, which makes me wonder why it apparently is as successful as it appears to be, but who am I to argue with success?  I just know that I am a rule-follower by design, so if the instructions say "don't peel your wound-glue like Elmers off your finger tips" then I gladly obey.

Productivity is down.

I have not been nearly as productive as I would normally be, which seems equal parts realistic and a non-event to everyone but me.  Being a rule-follower (as noted above), I have been pretty good at not exceeding the lifting limit placed on me, although I also confess to actually weighing a few things to see if I could get it to slide under the limit.  This is an example in action of the guilt I feel at not always being able to do things, to pull my weight, if you will.  In the far, dark corners of my head I can hear my mother yelling about my just laying around.  In my case now though I would have Ms. Rivers yelling about my doing too much (she actually doesn't yell...she doesn't have to...but it is a kind of motivational equivalency).  

As to what I have been up to, well, I finished watching all 17 seasons of "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia".  Great show, by the way.  

And yesterday I picked up leaves from the front of the house (all while not lifting more than 10 pounds).  And I've done some online shopping.  That's about it.  That's about enough as well.

Lastly, thank you to all who wished me well, checked in on me or otherwise sent good vibes my way.  Every word or comment has been deeply appreciated.  

The truth is never told during the nine-to-five hours

The title comes from a quote attributed to Dr. Hunter S. Thompson.  As I think about some recent events well, nothing could be further from the truth.

Decades of self-righteous talking heads, both male and female, made fodder over the decadence of rock musicians, heavy metal genre in particular.  Some of that was deserved, by the way.  But not all of it.  Then we have someone beloved by these conservative religious types, namely the current president of the United States, on a four-year quest for personal wealth enrichment.  Most recently, for example, using an official visit to Scotland to promote his golf course.  

On the other hand, we have the late Ozzy Osbourne and Black Sabbath hold a concert that raised $190 million for charity.  Take Fox News' word for it...

https://www.foxnews.com/entertainment/ozzy-osbournes-legendary-final-performance-raised-staggering-190m-worthy-causes

...yeah, that Fox News.  Anyway, this was an Ozzy Osbourne who likely knew he was close to death but yet still wanted to do this one last thing.  Make that one last GOOD THING.  

There is a moral of this story in that sometimes what we think is black is actually white.  And what we are told is righteous is actually corrupt.  To the extent judgement is requested, wanted or needed, such a thing should be based on actions, not words.  For example, the "immoral Prince of Darkness" helping to raise $190 million for charity vs. the Christian Nationalist favorite president who had to pay a $2 million penalty for mis-using charity funds.  

https://ag.ny.gov/press-release/2019/donald-j-trump-pays-court-ordered-2-million-illegally-using-trump-foundation

In the end, I know that Ozzy Osbourne was no saint.  But the president of the United States isn't either.  Given the choice though, I'll go with the guy who wanted to make people enjoy music, as opposed to the guy who sucks up to dictators and thinks that concentration camps are perfectly okay.

Road Apples, #181

 

It's been a while since I've written a Road Apples posting.  A very long time in fact, well in how time seems to flow these days.  Anyway, here we go.

The Ugly Times

I was thinking about how, in 10 years' time (and God willing my mortal coil has not yet extinguished), I will look back at this point and time in our nation's history.  The best I've come up with is the phrase "The Ugly Times".  There is no defending ripping families apart.  No justification for masked individuals purporting to be federal law enforcement officers but yet not in uniform, taking people out of their homes, places of work, immigration courts (the irony is steamy in those cases) and schools.  In this country law enforcement serves the people, a concept that runs counter to faceless people piling out of an SUV to abduct someone.

Yes, we can enforce the nation's immigration laws, but this is not the path.  In 10 years' time, many will feel shame.  I hope.  If they are even capable.

Retirement

Being in my very early 60's, I've been more seriously thinking about retirement.  I am very interested in opinions from others about retiring "early".  If someone could retire at age 62, for example, should they?  A key parameter to consider:  Through a combination of hard work and luck, the financial aspect of retiring early isn't much an issue for me.  Any opinions you may have would be greatly appreciated.  Feel free to comment or email me at steve_g1964@hotmail.com.

Note:  If there is someone out there reading this who feels compelled to spam me or offer any other kind of solicitation, my reply will be the entire Unibomber Manifesto.  I am not kidding.

It's Raining (for a change)

It's not raining now as I start writing this, but it is virtually guaranteed that, by the time I finish it (in a day or so) it will have rained at least once.  In years past, for example, a forecast of "23% chance of rain" pretty much meant that it wasn't going to rain.  This year?  That means that it will absolutely, positively be raining at some point.  Has forecasting gotten that bad?  Was "Big Balls" set loose at NOAA?

Don't Look Back in Anger

I was eating lunch last weekend at a burger place and this song was playing in the background with its chorus of "And so Sally can wait, she knows it’s too late...".  Never heard it before.  I googled the lyrics, and it is from "Don't Look Back in Anger" by Oasis.  In addition to being just a great song, it seems to fit with the premise noted in the first part of this posting.

 (Fun Fact:  The song is sung by the lessor crazy Gallagher brother, Noel).

It also feels oddly fitting when I think about how I have been feeling over the past few weeks.  I'm not holding onto any real anger towards anyone else.  Maybe though this is about holding onto other things well past their appropriate time.  This is part of the magic of music I know to be true: It is almost entirely non-linear in that what I hear may not be what was intended or what others hear.  Like I said, magic.

Father's Day...in the Living Years

For whatever reason, I've recently realized that the song The Living Years is just about as great a song about fatherhood as has ever been crafted.

 

For the record this does not remind me of my own father.  While I've written about my father in the past and am not really all that interested in revisiting things now, I'll simply state that my father was not in any measurable way a part of my life.  He was, in essence, a kind of "anti-example".  If anything, the lyrics of The Living Years make me think about my own legacy as a father, as well as others that I know who had fathers that were a part of their lives.

Here's the thing about legacies though: They are always written backward in time, likely in a time and place where the mortal coil will have ceased functioning.

I think the best fathers are very aware of the things they wished they had done differently, which seems to me to be the real message of the song The Living Years.  I know that there are things I wish I had done differently, but I also know that at any given moment in those past times, I was trying to do the best I could.  More than anything else, I tried to simply be present, unlike my own father.  I also hope that I have provided some sense of stability, of reasonability, of order of a sort in a world that I knew was becoming increasingly unstable, unreasonable and chaotic.  You just need to read the news to see this displayed in real time.

These days I live in what I've told Ms. Rivers is the paradox of conscious parenting: You prepare your sons and daughters to be independent and live out in the real world, making their own lives, which will often mean that you see them less.  While there have been things going on in my life that aren't necessarily very positive, words cannot express how very happy I was for my daughters to all be there when Ms. Rivers and I had an early anniversary get together a few weeks ago.  For about 2 hours when they were there, I was able to be immersed in the very best thing I have ever done as a human.

In the final analysis, I try to be a humble person, but when I think about how my children are doing, well, I have to give myself some extra grace in the pride department.  

So Happy Father's Day to all the dads that showed up, did their best, and have gotten the opportunity to look with pride upon their children, whether that view be from this world or the next.  

* * * * * *

The Living Years

(songwriters B.A.Roberston, Mike Rutherford)

Every generation

Blames the one before

And all of their frustrations

Come beating on your door

I know that I'm a prisoner

To all my Father held so dear

I know that I'm a hostage

To all his hopes and fears

I just wish I could have told him in the living years

Crumpled bits of paper

Filled with imperfect thought

Stilted conversations

I'm afraid that's all we've got

You say you just don't see it

He says it's perfect sense

You just can't get agreement

In this present tense

We all talk a different language

Talking in defence

Say it loud, say it clear

You can listen as well as you hear

It's too late when we die

To admit we don't see eye to eye

So we open up a quarrel

Between the present and the past

We only sacrifice the future

It's the bitterness that lasts

So Don't yield to the fortunes

You sometimes see as fate

It may have a new perspective

On a different day

And if you don't give up, and don't give in

You may just be OK.

Say it loud, say it clear

You can listen as well as you hear

It's too late when we die

To admit we don't see eye to eye

I wasn't there that morning

When my Father passed away

I didn't get to tell him

All the things I had to say

I think I caught his spirit

Later that same year

I'm sure I heard his echo

In my baby's new born tears

I just wish I could have told him in the living years

Say it loud, say it clear

You can listen as well as you hear

It's too late when we die

To admit we don't see eye to eye

OLD

Preface...I started and (mostly) finished this before the passing of my brother Joe.  I have more thoughts on that (my brother's passing), which may get into another posting eventually.  But for now, a few thoughts on the subject of getting older.

 

Yes, another year and I am officially older now.  No sense throwing out statistics, but let’s just say I am old enough to be considered grown up, although I don’t always think of myself that way.  My body sometimes takes offense to that second part, and routinely reminds me of such, but that sort of thing happens to all of us.  Yes, age truly is the great equalizer.  Body part showing signs of wear and tear duly noted, I have a lot to be thankful for as I jet past this life anniversary:

 I have daughters and stepsons who are healthy, very smart and doing well.

I have a wife who is my favorite non-cat and who tolerates my (many) idiosyncrasies.

I continue to have dual gifts of curiosity and persistency.

 I can still hear the birds, smell the flowers, feel soft cat snuggles, and taste good pizza.

This is not to say that all is well and perfect, because it ain’t.  As alluded to above, I need to take better care of myself physically, which I know is intrinsically linked to my own mental health.  Speaking of mental health, I am also blessed that, in spite of many reasons to the contrary sometimes, I still wake up each day thinking about the things I want…and often have…to do, without it being overwhelming.  In fact, I will say that getting older has been decidedly better for my mental health, as I often now days find myself asking “why should I even care about this?” frequently.  This is a very good thing, by the way.

As a side note, if there is one self-help book everyone should read, it’s this one:

 
(you can find it HERE on Amazon)

When I think about what has informed my outlook on things over the last few years, I have to acknowledge how important this book has been.

Back to being older.

Ms. Rivers asked me if I had any ruminations about starting the first full decade of my 60's.  Well, here we go:

Whether we want to admit it or not, we never really escape our childhood

The older I get the more I find depth in simplicity

Comfort > Fashion

Life does not happen in a linear progression

Most dogs are better than most people...which is why I don't own a dog

This is Water should be required reading for everyone

Anger is the ultimate waste of time and energy

Ponder this:  John Lennon was 25 years old when he wrote "Nowhere Man"; by that measure we are all abject failures

It's okay to have regrets; it's just not okay to live a life centered around them

The older I get the better I am at managing pain (of all kinds)

What most folks get wrong about Star Trek?  The Enterprise is as much a character in the show as Kirk or Spock (which is what the newer movies get wrong)

Cats are necessary because they remind us that we are not the center of the universe...they are

You only truly miss a sibling when they pass away

The only people who say "I never use Algebra as an adult" are those who really didn't pay all that much attention in Algebra class

The older I get the more I am okay with not knowing everything...and that's a long list

The chorus in the song #9 Dream (“Ah! böwakawa poussé, poussé”) doesn't mean anything...and yet it is perfect for the task; the lesson?  Not everything has to mean something

The Great Gatsby still sucks

"Love makes your heart pound!", yeah, well often true love is the most calm thing you can feel

Smell the flowers

Anyone can sing or write or dance...it's just that not everyone can do one or all of those things well

There's nothing more stupid and pathetic than someone who mistakes cruelty for genius

My life has been fine without Brocolli

Don't buy cheap shoes

Do buy cheap tools...until you have the money to buy good ones

Truly smart people don't have to remind you of how smart (they think) they are

It's impossible to overrate the importance of smelling good

Being confident is far less important than seeming like you are confident

Playing a musical instrument is a super-power

Beavis > Butthead

There are only two kinds of pick-up trucks:  Those for work and those for show; I don't trust people who owns one just for show

Someone's right to get high or drunk (or other such things) ends at the tip of their nose and does not extend to forcing me to involunintarily participate in their stupidity

Never, ever underestimate the importance of good dental hygiene 

In business, the order is "ready-aim-fire" (not "ready-fire-aim")

There's really no such thing about chaos...there's a pattern to everything, as long as you have a large enough population and the time to analyze it all

A hot shower cures many ills

Plants remind us that there is a season for everything

It's perfectly okay to like Supertramp and Ramstein and Strauss

John Mellencamp is right:  An honest man's pillow IS his peace of mind

Mission accomplished.  Back to getting older.

There is work yet to be done.

I am inching towards retirement one of these years.  Maybe sooner rather than later.  We shall see.  Part of what goes with this is the very real question of just what the heck would I do with myself when I do retire?  I have thoughts, but I acknowledge that I need to think about this more over this next life cycle.  Having things like that to think about is a good thing.

I also need to work on my people-ing skills.  The odd part of this is the fact that I’m better at that sort of thing when I am being paid for it (a.k.a., at work) but pretty terrible at it otherwise.  Part of me wonders if I have this notional human interaction bank that currently gets mostly drained at work, leaving not much left for my civilian life.  It’s an interesting theory.

All of the above noted, it’s time to begin the next rotation around the sun.

More to come.