While You're Making Other Plans

I'm not sure I ever had a plan for my life. I can't tell you what, as a child, I wanted to be when I grew up as it changed from week to week, sometimes day to day. Heck, I still don't know. No, there was no plan, but there were expectations.

Whether my expectations were set by observing my parents and their friends or by society and the media I really can't say. But I'm almost 50 years old now and I'm not where I expected to be.

I expected I would be married and have a deep, deep passion for my "soul mate." I love my wife, whom I've been married to more than half my life now (27 years this year), and will love her deeply until I draw my dying breath but there seems to be a piece of that puzzle that either doesn't quite fit or is from a different picture.

I expected I would have children. This is something that has contributed to many existential crises as I get older. I see my friends doting on their children and now their grandchildren. My heart aches and regret swells.

I expected I would know more. This is more one of perception. I am aware that I have knowledge that many are ignorant of and that I am ignorant of many things that others have knowledge of. I do not aspire to be the smartest person in the room - several others took up that mantle long ago - but  I hunger to understand more of the things I do know and wonder what I am missing.

I expected I would be better compensated. Many reading this probably had this same expectation. I saw people in TV shows and real-life who seemed to constantly move forward in their careers. All I ever seem to do is move sideways and when I do move forward it's either so big a leap that I can't handle it or it's into something far, far worse than where I am.

With so many expectations, whether realistic or fantastic, having outcomes that I would consider not toward the positive, is it any wonder I suffer from depression? Or is it the depression that makes me feel that my expectations haven't been met?

I've read enough business success and self-help books to know that I really need to shape my own destiny. The problem is that my destiny is a giant lump of drab, gray modeling clay sitting on the table before me that I have no earthly idea how to shape. It's not that I don't understand the mechanics of shaping it or that I don't feel I have the skill. The skill really doesn't matter as it can be refined over time. What I don't have is a vision. Will it be a human figure(ine)? What about something utilitarian like a cell phone stand? Maybe something grander like a model building or even a statue? Should it be something serious? Or something fun and outlandish? I just don't know. I stare and I stare but it just won't tell me what it wants to be. And for all my wishing (and judicious use of "The Force") it just won't shape itself.

So what to do about it? I need to discover what that lump of clay needs to become. Should I ask it questions? Should I simply push on it here and there and see what it starts to look like? Actually, that last one won't work. I tried that. I also tried starting to shape it into something - anything - to see what it looked like but usually ended up squishing it back into a lump.

I'm rambling. It's time to stop since I'm obviously not going to figure it all out in one blog post. I have no idea how to close out of this so I just say TTFN.

The Barrier

A friend of mine who has definite physical limitations told me something this weekend. She used to say she had no regrets but she revealed to me that she had recently started feeling that she regretted not trying out for the pom pom squad in high school.

In the moment, she had watched the routines and the physical requirements and had decided that she just wouldn't be able to do it. She imposed an automatic limit upon herself without ever trying. She might not have made the team but just trying would have pushed her beyond the boundaries that she thought she had. And maybe, just maybe, the team would have worked to include her despite her limitations.

This brought home a thought process I've been going through. I was actually talking, out loud, to someone about this and said something about understanding my limits and staying within them. As I said it I knew it was an excuse. I knew it was bullshit. I knew the limits were of my own making. I knew it was a barrier built by fear.

As I think about what I said I know I'm holding myself back. I see the fence in the distance and feel I can't climb it and turn away. The truth I know is that the fence is not that high and there are gates. There may be a gatekeeper of some sort but the gates are all along the fence.

The funny thing is I also know that beyond the fence... is another fence.

My last post may have sounded discouraged but I'm not. I think about finding my greatness every day. I examine the barriers, I examine the paths, and I examine the possibilities.

Fear And Anger

I am looking for my greatness.

Will my star shine bright or will I let it continue to be dim?

I am afraid.

If I hold back I will waste potential.

If I try too hard I may burn out and end up as a black hole.

I hold myself back.

I lie to myself that the resources are finite and I must not use them up. There is only so much I can use.

But when I lie I only increase my own resistance. I excuse myself from trying.

I know that the resources are replenished with each attempt - successful or not. Failure is always an option.

But I am afraid.

I want to throw everything into the fire and let it explode in spectacular fashion but it doesn't work like that.

Like gunpowder outside of a bullet it fizzles in a brief, anticlimactic poof.

I do not like the slow burn.

I want to see the elephant devoured not eaten one small bite at a time.

I am frustrated by my desire for quick results.

I fear I will lose interest and walk away from my greatness without ever knowing it.

I have done many things that I thought would grow if I only gave them attention only to find I'm not very good at them.

I try something else and it, too, withers.

Why do I stop when things get difficult?

Why do I never practice?

I took piano lessons for six years and never got past the simplified versions of the sheet music.

I want things to come naturally, to just happen. I know it doesn't really happen like that. All examples of greatness are stories of hard work and dedication.

I am afraid.

I have taken the next step in my perceived evolution and have failed miserably. More than once.

I like the low-hanging fruit but I'm truly not afraid to climb the tree... if I can see how to reach what I want. The fat, juicy, ripe fruit at the top of the canopy is so far out of site that I don't want to reach for it for fear of getting to the top only to find sour fruit or none at all. All the time ignoring the spectacular view.

I'm going to climb. I don't know where I will end up.

I started trying to write something prophetic here. An organized, insightful revelation of my thought processes so far. I took the first step, why not just take the second? The truth is it's not organized - as you can see. So this was just a stream of consciousness thing. I stopped where I did because I was starting to get angry with myself for telling myself it is better to have false, inaccurate limits than unreachable goals (that really aren't unreachable).

Maybe next time I should make a list of my accomplishments. A list of the things I know how to do, no matter how seemingly insignificant. Maybe that will help me see that I'm shining brighter than I think I am.

Find You Own Greatness

All the elements in your body were forged many many millions of years ago in the heart of a faraway star that exploded and died. That explosion scattered those elements across the desolations of deep space. After so, so many millions of years, these elements came together to form new stars and new planets. And on and on it went. The elements came together and burst apart, forming shoes and ships and sealing wax and cabbages and kings. Until, eventually, they came together to make you. You are unique in the universe. - Doctor Who, The Rings of Akhaten

There are times in life when you see people surpass you who started at the same point you did or maybe a little behind. There are also times when you see someone being successful at the life you thought you would have. It is difficult not to compare yourself to them. It is difficult not to say, "That could be me." We all know that we are unique with our own blend of talents and shortcomings. We all know that we shouldn't compare ourselves to others. But how do we embrace that uniqueness?

I was listening to my iPhone shuffle through all of the music uploaded to it when Ready to Hang by Wayman Tisdale came on. I probably met Wayman at some point since we went to the same high school but I couldn't tell you if he would have recognized me or not. He and my older sister were in the same class and knew each other well enough that Wayman once recognized my brother, who is one year younger than my sister, when Wayman walked past my him on an airplane. He stopped and asked my brother something like, "Aren't you Mary's brother?"

I was thinking about that story, that my brother likes to tell, and it got me to thinking about Wayman's life. He was a basketball star in high school, college and in the NBA. He even went to the Olympics. Wayman went on to have a music career and released eight albums. At one point I learned that he had taught himself how to play the bass... and he was pretty good at it. In 2007 he was diagnosed with cancer and had part of his leg amputated in 2008. He died in May of 2009.

I was reflecting on all of this: All of the amazing things he had done in his life despite it being cut short. Of course I'm no Wayman Tisdale. My star does not shine nearly as bright and it likely never will. What I want, however, is to be remembered as having done something with my life.

That's when it hit me: We can't all be the bright star in the sky but we can all shine in our own way. The trick is to find your own greatness. It doesn't matter that someone does something faster or better than you.

I was trying to finish that thought by saying, "What does matter..." but I'm not sure exactly what that is yet. I think that's part of what I'm looking for. This is just the first, tiny step and I hope I don't get distracted from this path. I need to find my greatness. I might already have it or it may be completely unrealized and yet to come. I have a friend that calls it Grabbing the Starfish. She explains it as "Knowing and working towards that one thing that you are supposed to be doing with your life." It sounded like a thousand other existential platitudes but I think I get it now.

Stay tuned. I'll probably bring you along for the ride.

The First Day Of The Rest Of Our Life

Twenty-three years ago I woke up feeling a little anxious. I met with my best friends Bill, Steve, and Kyle and my brother, John. We gathered at The Kettle restaurant for a hearty breakfast. I ate well, if I remember correctly, despite my stomach starting to do flip-flops. The levity of my friends and family, along with some juvenile behavior like spoon hanging (I wish I knew where that picture was), helped with the nerves.

After breakfast we went back to the hotel and got all fancied up. We gathered in the parking lot and as we waited Steve showed us a trick to keep our shirts straight - reach into your pockets and tug down on the bottom of your shirt from the inside. We then tested how it looked with a group photograph.

As you can see, my good friends were keeping my anxiety in check.

Once my parents joined us we headed to the event. The drive was short but the butterflies were getting more restless. At the venue we had our pictures taken - me alone, me with brother, me with Bill, Steve and John, me with parents, me with parents and brother, etc. The sheer tedium of this settled the butterflies.

Once we were done with pictures we waited. Well, all except for Kyle who was helping to seat friends and family. The waiting was the worst part. That's when the nerves took hold. It didn't help that my "friends" were having a jolly time watching the nerves build and were encouraging them by telling me that the person I was there to meet was wearing an inappropriately-colored dress. Despite the dress having been described to me previously by other parties, they said it so much I started to worry that something had changed.

Eventually, it was time to take our places. Bill, Steve, John and I stood at the front of the room. As the music played a beautiful woman entered from the back. Everyone stood to greet and honor her. Thankfully, she was wearing a flowing white dress with a slightly pink hue to it (and not the blazing red dress my friends had teased about). Her father walked her to the front of the church where he passed responsibility and entrusted me with her care.

For twenty-three years I have loved and cared for my beautiful wife, Shelly. We've overcome obstacles and tested our vows but together we are strong. I love her more and more every day. Happy anniversary, sweetie. I love you.

Block Party

The house I grew up in was on a Cul-de-sac. I also grew up during a time when you knew your next-door neighbor, your neighbor across the street and your neighbors down the street. This combination transformed holidays like memorial day, July 4th and labor day into major holidays.

I remember the first time we had a block party. We just decided to have a neighborhood party one weekend. It may have been in conjunction with a holiday or long weekend, I don't recall exactly. I remember we made sure we invited the entire neighborhood and checked to make sure everyone approved of us actually having a street gathering. Nobody objected so we actually blocked the street with a couple of vehicles and had a grand time.

Subsequent celebrations were not so formal. We simply gathered in the street and yielded to the unlikely, errant vehicle that might wander through.

I remember on almost any given summer holiday my father would drag our grill from the back porch to the end of the driveway. The Shadley's across the street would do the same. The Keegan's would break out their ice cream maker. It was always a huge pot luck with children playing and laughing, adults charring various forms of meat and carrying on adult small-talk, and four-footed furry family members on the prowl for scraps.

The thing about these block parties was not that there was one or two that were simply epic, there were several that were perfect escapes from the rigors of regular life. The perfect way to leave work at work and school at school and simply let the day be a relaxing celebration in a space that was all ours.

How I Became A SciFi Nut

I grew up during a time when there were only 4 channels available on television. You had the big 3 networks and PBS. The major networks operated, at that time, using a standard known as PICAN (say it like pecan). The networks were charged with operating in the Public Interest, Convenience And Necessity. What this meant was that Saturday morning children's program had to include some sort of educational content (hence the moral lessons in cartoons of the time). It also meant that Sunday morning programming was usually of a religious nature.

When we returned from church on Sunday mornings the only thing on TV was... church. There was no way we wanted to repeat the experience we had just been through so we turned to PBS. The PBS station in Tulsa, OK used to run episodes of Star Trek on Sunday mornings. Hence, I, and my siblings, watched Star Trek on almost any given Sunday morning.

I can't tell you why it had a more pronounced effect on me than my brother and sister but it did. I was fascinated by every part of it. I watched it every opportunity I got. I bought and read and memorized trivia books about the show. There was even a period of time when I could watch 10 seconds or less of any part of any episode of the original series and tell you which episode it was and give you a plot synopsis.

Flash forward to 1977. There was this movie that came out that got all kinds of buzz. It pioneered visual effects that are considered simple by today's standards. But they're also the foundation of some of today's standards. It is the only movie I have ever seen people line up around the building to see. Maybe you've heard of it? It was called Star Wars. These days it's called episode 4 but it was the original in many many ways. Star wars was really the spark. It lit the fire.

The next summer I saw a poorly produced commercial on TV that piqued my interest. What caught my eye was the tall guy in the back dressed as Chewbaca. It was an ad for a little SciFi convention called OKon and it was right there in downtown Tulsa. I had to go.

I was only 11 or 12 at the time so I begged and pleaded with my mom to let me go. None of my siblings wanted to go so it was just me and mom. We went to the Mayo hotel in downtown Tulsa where she paid my admission for the day then sat patiently in the lobby reading a book.

I don't remember a whole lot about that particular convention. I was only there for a couple of hours, three at most. There were no big celebrities to fawn over. I wasn't a big reader at the time so I didn't know any of the authors they had there. I most likely just walked around the "huxter's room" and ogled at all the cool toys, posters, T-shirts and other merchandise. Once I had seen all I could see and exhausted what meager allowance I may have had with me, I returned to the lobby and mom and I went home.

I attended every OKon there was after that and still go to conventions today. I have seen the evolution from fan gathering to commercial enterprise, no pun intended. Some are very fan-centric and give attendees a variety of activities to choose from. Others are more structured and have a singular tone to them. They are all, however, a chance for like-minded fan(atic)s to geek out and be comfortable in those elements of their personality, however pronounced, that all the people who know them don't understand.

So, here I am. A child of the stars born from reruns on Sunday mornings, raised by movies and educated at family gatherings called cons (conventions to the uninitiated).

Things To Do In 2012

As 2011 draws to a close, as pretty much any year draws to a close, people start making resolutions for the new year. The most popular, by far, is to lose weight with other contenders such as quitting smoking, drinking less, furthering education, etc. rounding out the top 10.

I don't do resolutions. Resolutions are often not specific enough and fall into the category of things we say to ourselves on a daily basis as we look at ourselves in the mirror. "I really need to lose weight," or "I really need to quit smoking," or "I really should..." They're often ideas, not goals, which only sets us up for failure. How many of you have formulated a specific resolution like, "I will lose 20 pounds by March 31 in order to look my best for my sister's wedding in May."? Anyone?

The second reason I don't do resolutions is that they are often forgotten or put aside by mid-February. We don't hold ourselves accountable. We don't go back to those resolutions periodically to ask ourselves, "How am I doing?" If that's the case, why bother?

The third, but not necessarily final, reason I don't do resolutions is that they are often singular. Hey, we don't want to make our selves crazy by resolving to lose weight, quit smoking, drink less, further our education AND blog more. That's way too much to work on at once,

This year, I decided that I would do something similar but different. I have a few long-term projects I want/need to work on and a few things I want to learn. With that in mind, I decided to come up with a To Do list for the new year. So, without further adew, adieu, adoo, delay, I bring you my list of 10 Things To Do in 2012.

1. Get the new design/CMS for my celebrity photo site online.
• As I was originally designing the new look and readying to transfer to a new Content Management System, I decided I wanted to re-crop, resize, and watermark all of my pictures. Because of my glasses at the time, I ended up leaning in to the monitor and tilting my head back as I worked... for an entire day. I got a lot done but I was hurting for over a week after that and haven't really picked it up since. It's time to Git 'R Done.
2. Complete one "Book of Me" entry per month
• Part of the reason I keep a blog is to collect my stories. I want to do more with that so by the end of 2012, I should have at least 12 new personal stories collected here.
3. Watch 3 classic movies I've never seen
• I love movies. Plenty of people know that and I will often find myself in a discussion about movies. Many friends have told me I need to see The Usual Suspects. So this is the year I will do that. But why stop there? Let's make it 3 movies I haven't seen.
1. The Usual Suspects
2. Network
3. The Trouble With Harry
4. Finish transferring my dad's Beatles albums to MP3
• I've had the records for about 2 years now. It's time I finished that project.
5. Sort out at least 25% of my "2 Sort" music folder
• It's a collection of music I have acquired that is mis-tagged, mis-labeled or just not sorted into a genre or artist folder yet. It's time to get it knocked out a little bit.
6. Unsubscribe from email lists I don't read
• My inbox is a MESS. It always is. I need to reduce some of the clutter and noise so unsubscribing from lists and newsletters I don't read is a great way to at least accumulate a little less.
7. Leave myself notes to find/look for/open in 1 year, 5 years and 10 years
• I saw this on a list I found on the internet. It actually said to leave yourself a note in a library book and look for it 20 years later. I don't want to invest that kind of time (although I may do it just to leave a note to the finder).
8. Make a short movie, just to say I did it
• This is another one I found on the internet. It said it shouldn't be a YouTube video but an actual movie, with a story. This may be the most difficult to accomplish but it sounds like fun.
9. Learn how to photograph people
• I love photography but I'm not too great at it. I have a camera-shy wife and no kids so most of my photos are landscapes and animals. I'm slowly getting better at that but I suck at portraits. I have a few friends who are professional photographers so I think I'm going to hit them up for some pointers. Now, if I only had a test subject. Anyone want to volunteer?
10. Earn an engineering-level technical certification
• I had a hard time with this last one. I wasn't sure what I wanted to put on the list. I'm not even sure I want this on the list. The fact of the matter is, however, that in order to progress in my job, I need an e-level cert. I have a hard time putting forth the effort for self-study, for various reasons, so I have had a lot of false starts. But here it is, my public declaration that I will do this. I will do this within a year.

So, that's the list. I will type it up neatly, post it where I can see it, refer to it throughout the year and give regular progress reports.

Oh, before I go, I should tell you my resolution for the new year is to take better care of myself. I'm starting to get a little fluffy.

Gadget Freak, Part 2

I grew up at a time when Radio Shack was a place that electronics enthusiasts, and those needing vacuum tubes and phonograph needles, actually sought out. Back then, the store was dark and lined with all manner of electrical components. The staff actually knew the difference between a BNC and a DIN. Today The Shack sells cell phones and overpriced accessories and what they still have for electronic components are relegated to storage drawers tucked into a back corner. And good luck finding an employee who knows what you're looking for much less where to find it.

But I digress.

When I was about ten years old I went to our neighborhood Radio Shack with my father. He needed some sort of widget and I was most likely picking up a battery with my battery club card. Displayed semi-prominently in the middle of the wall opposite the cash register was this black keyboard outlined in silver-grey plastic connected to a similarly colored black and white television measuring about 13" (it actually was a modified RCA XL-100 B&W TV) and it caught my eye. (ooh, shiny...)

I went over to look at it. What was this? Some kind of new typewriter? No... A typewriter needed some kind  of output to paper. Let's see. There's a keyboard, presumably to type with, and a display. What has a keyboard and a display? Oh, I know... it's a computer (a TRS-80 Model I, to be precise). What can you do with a computer? I think I pressed the return key or maybe typed in my name and pressed enter. I may or may not have gotten some sort of unknown command error but it certainly didn't do much.

I stood there pondering this new device for a while longer, wondering how I could test it, play with it a bit, get a better feel for what it was and what it was capable of. Then I remembered that you have to program a computer.

I thought about that thing for days. I marveled at the possibility of having a computer in a home. Those visions of the future I had seen on TV were starting to come true. I told my mom about it excitedly when we got home. I told my friends at school what I had seen with my own eyes. I wanted to learn what you could do with it and how to do it.

A few days later I went into the store on my own (it was within walking distance of the house). I remember walking to the back of the store to a revolving wire rack with books on it. I looked at the different titles and found two that I had to have. The first was a book about the TRS-80 and programming in BASIC. The second was a book of BASIC programs. I could only afford one so I bought the programming guide.

I read that thing from cover to cover. I absorbed every bit of information it contained. I learned the structure and the syntax of the BASIC programming language. I learned how to construct the program then execute it. I even learned about storing the program on cassette tape for later retrieval.

Side note: The TRS-80 tape drive was nothing more than a portable tape recorder with a special cable to connect it to the computer. Reading programs was sometimes hit-and-miss because the computer was extra sensitive about the volume. Yes, it had a volume control on the tape recorder and if you didn't get that thing just right you would have to rewind and start all over again.

In the course of reading that book, I wrote my first program (and no, it wasn't 'hello world'). It had variables and user input and loops and subroutines and it was all mine. I knew it was overly simple when I wrote it but I didn't care. It would ask you to type in your name and some other information then display it back to you, or something like that. Only problem was, I had no way to test it. Unless...

The next weekend I took a trip to the store with the express purpose of testing my program. I don't remember if I asked for permission to do so but I typed in my program line by line, saved it somehow, and ran it. I think it even worked the first time. If I was hooked before I was obsessed now.

I would sometimes spend hours and hours at that store on a Saturday afternoon. I would code and test and debug and learn. Sometimes I would only spend 30 minutes entering a program, giving it a run-through, and leaving it in memory as a demo for other kids that might be just as curious as I was that first time I saw it.

I remember my mother telling me I shouldn't spend all day at Radio Shack. It was a business and I was getting in the way. Shortly after, I asked the manager, whom I had come to be friendly with, and he told me it wasn't a problem. He said he honestly didn't know much about the thing and that the 'demo' programs I put on there at least showed it off a little bit.

As other computers were introduced to the market (the Apple II, the Commodore 64, the Atari 400 and 800, etc.), I began to spend my weekends hanging out at different computer stores doing basically the same thing I used to do at Radio Shack but with different systems. Every once in a while mom would give me the speech again and I would maybe skip a weekend but I was right back in short order.

I eventually outgrew my Saturday morning computer club of one (well, it was eventually 2 when my buddy Bill would join me) but I've never really lost my passion for computers and all things electronic. I involved myself in computer classes at school and even managed the school's BBS system for a while. Before graduating high school I had learned something like 4 or 5 different computer languages and, as with many things in my life, I was not proficient with any of them. Well, I was proficient with the programming languages, I've just never been terribly proficient with programming.

Now, my passion has become a career as I, and many others, always knew it would. Stay tuned, there's more to come.

Gadget Freak, Part I

I have always had a passion and fascination with electronics. If it beeps, blips, blinks, flashes or needs some sort of power supply, I'm into it. I remember taking apart radios, tape players and whatever else I could get my hands on just to see what was inside of them. The challenge when I was younger was to get the devices reassembled in working order before dad came home.

I recall one time when I was about four years old my father had just gotten a combination radio and cassette player (keep in mind, this was circa 1971 so this was high tech). When he brought it home he showed us all how he could record something off the radio and play it back on the tape.

That sounds simple enough these days but my four-year-old brain, having seen this only once, somehow got it backward. I believed that you could get the contents of the tape to play on the radio. The part I remembered in the right order was that you had to press the play and record buttons at the same time.

Shortly after, my parents went out and we were left with a babysitter. Wanting to show off, another fascination I never outgrew, I tried to show the babysitter how this all worked... using my father's Johnny Cash cassette.

For those of you who know how cassettes work, the record button won't go down when you put in a pre-recorded tape because the record tab has been removed. Somehow, my little undeveloped brain figured that out, figured out a way to override it and managed to erase random chunks from my dad's tape.

Dad never got angry with me about it. He was more curious as to how I had accomplished it because, at the time, he didn't know how to do it himself. Of course, I had slept a couple of times between the time I did it and dad discovered it (I had no idea I had done any damage) and the knowledge of how the damage had been done was lost to me.

Fuck You, Todd

I was recently listening to a discussion about bullying and the psychology of bullying and it brought a few memories to mind. When I was in second and third grade, my arch-nemesis was Todd F. (last name withheld to protect the bullying bastard). On an almost daily basis he would ridicule me at school and push me around. It was nothing like what you hear about today but he was the kid I always wanted to avoid.

He lived in the same general area that I did so it meant we took a similar route getting to and from school. I don't recall running into him while walking to school but I dreaded the days I was walking home alone and encountered him. I could guarantee getting my path blocked, getting called names, being belittled and there was a high probability I would get kicked in the nuts.

Yep, just for the hell of it, this little prick would delay my journey home just to kick me in the balls and laugh at my weakness as I collapsed in agony. When I transferred schools in the fourth grade he was one acquaintance I was glad to leave behind.

Fast forward to my sophomore year in college. I'm sitting in one of my core classes on the first day and the instructor starts to take roll. Suddenly, I heard his name. A sudden wave of contempt flooded my being. Could this be the same Todd F. who had tortured me those many years ago? I listened for the response but I was sitting behind him and couldn't see his face. Through the entire class I obsessed over keeping an eye on him as we egressed in order to get a look at his face.

As we were dismissed I leapt from my seat to make my way to an appropriate vantage point. When I did see his face it didn't look familiar to me but he certainly looked like the smug, overly self-confident, arrogant type. He exuded that "We are not equal. I am better than you." attitude. Or maybe it was just my past coloring my attitude.

I wondered to myself what I might do if he approached me. I wondered whether I should confront him. I wanted to tell him off. I wanted to tell him how much of a goddamsonofabitchdumbastard he was. I wanted... to punch him in the nose. But I didn't.

After a few classes this asshole/man with an unfortunate name faded into the background. He may have dropped the class. He may have finished it. I don't know. I really don't care. But if I should ever encounter the verifiable Todd F. from my childhood I won't punch him. But I will tell him how I still hate him.

Psychic Father

I had arranged to meet my best friend, Bill. As I walked out of the den I called, "I'm off to Bill's house." I reached for the doorknob. As my hand began to curve while I reached for the doorknob I thought to myself, "Maybe we can go to the mall."

As I started to grip the doorknob but before I actually touched it, I heard my father say from the den, "And don't go to the mall!" I stopped dead. I had just had a thought in my head and less than a second later my father had known what I was thinking about.

I wasn't upset about the mall. I could take it or leave it. It was just a thought of something to do. I was more freaked out about what my father said. "I just decided I wanted to go to the mall while I was walking to the door. How in the world did you know I was thinking that? I didn't even know I was going to do that."

"Because I used to be you."

I guess that's why I'm Joe Jr.

My First Crush

I met Lisa in the seventh grade. Maybe I actually met her before then but I certainly didn’t take notice of her until the seventh grade. Lisa was tall and lean but not skinny. She had long, dark hair, a gentle and honest smile and eyes I could stare into all day long. I didn’t know much about sex at that time so I didn’t lust after her but I did know that she had nice legs and a cute butt.

We had classes together and would eat lunch together sometimes. I just enjoyed the fact that she allowed me to be near her so I think in those first years I followed her around like a puppy dog. She didn’t take advantage of me and make me her personal slave but I probably would have been if she’d asked.

As we moved on to high school I matured some and she became more… shapely. I was still mostly locked on those eyes, though. Even as I look back at old yearbooks those eyes always draw me in. She was the most beautiful person in the world to me.

We went to the movies a few times and had dinner once or twice. I remember taking her to the fair once and walking with her all day on the Walk for Mankind (26 miles) one year. I tried to get close to her but it never quite clicked. While we remained friends we drifted apart in our last couple of years of high school.

We ended up going to the same college. She tracked me down one day our freshman year and asked me to drop by and see her. I went to her dorm room and sat down, never taking off my bulky coat as she lounged on the bed. I think she tried to rekindle something that day or maybe she was trying to see if the pilot light was still lit. It was but I shrouded it for some reason. She took me out for pizza and we had a nice day catching up but never really got together after that. Our paths crossed now and again. She ended up dating a guy I knew and I heard she really crushed him under her heel when it was over but I don’t know for sure.

Interestingly enough, as much as I was attracted to her for so many years and as much as we were together, we never kissed.

We ran into each other a couple of years after graduation. I was married by then but she was still single, I think. We each had things we needed to be doing so we exchanged pleasantries and got quick updates on what we each were doing. We may have promised to catch up with each other later that day or to keep in touch but it never happened and I haven’t heard from her since. I sometimes wonder where I would be if I had made a move that day in college. One thing I do know is that I will always have a fondness for her and the memories of her.

Bad Timing

One of my favorite bosses was RP. I worked for him as a student and he gave me my first full-time job when I graduated. He's one of my favorites for many reasons. He held a similar position to one my father had once held so there was some familiarity to that. Because of that similarity he knew my father. They had each earned an EdD and worked in instructional media so they had traveled in some of the same circles. In his own right, RP had a way of asking for things and dealing with situations that didn't make me feel like I was in trouble with the principal. He had a way of telling you to do something that let you discover the deficiency on your own and make the decision what to do about it on your own. I had a measure of respect for him - I still do.

I had worked for RP for a few years and had a student assistant, CS. One day CS and I had been busting our humps all day long. We were lugging equipment around, visiting multiple locations, taking care of work at the office, etc. I think there was a conference going on and we were handling the AV support and videotaping (yes, we actually used tape) different sessions. It's the only thing I can think of that would have kept us so busy and so mobile.

At one point I recall that we had a break in the action. We had gone back to the office to get supplies and swap out some video duplication runs. Once we were set, CS and I realized we had about 10 minutes before we had to schlep back to the location so we decided to get off our feet for a bit.

This was the early 90's and seeing a computer on almost every desk was not such a rarity but we were just starting to figure out how to get them to talk to each other. Everybody had a different way of stringing two or more computers together and email was still mostly relegated to mainframe systems. Because of the nature of my job, I happened to have two PCs (and one Mac) in my office and they were strung up to talk to each other (getting the PCs to talk to my Mac and the other Macs in the department was no small feat then). Also because of the nature of my work, I had a sound card in one of the PCs (an expensive rarity/luxury at the time).

The hottest game going was something called Doom. It was using the same system (we didn't call them gaming engines back then) as one of the first, if not the first, of the first-person shooter genre, Beyond Castle Wolfenstein. One of the reasons it was so popular was because if you had networked computers, you could play with another person on the same network and basically frag the hell out of each other with pistols, shotguns, machine guns and rocket launchers.

I happened to have a copy of Doom installed on both of the PCs. CS and I decided we needed to relieve some of the stress of the day and fired up the game. We started chasing each other and shooting each other during those precious few minutes we had been able to grab that day. It was quite therapeutic.

I don't know if it was the sounds of battle or some other business that prompted a visit but we heard the door to the office open. One of us paused the game and we both turned around. It was RP.

I looked at RP expectantly, wondering what I could do for him, whilst thinking to myself, "It figures. The only ten minutes we've had to sit all day long and the boss has to walk in and see us playing a game. Perfect." He stood there for a moment, hand still resting on the doorknob, looked between the two of us, and closed the door without uttering a sound. CS and I looked at each other with, "I wonder if we're in trouble?" in our thoughts, shrugged because if we were busted we were busted, and immediately resumed the game until it was time to grab our gear and head back out.

RP never asked about it and he never mentioned it. To this day I don't know if he was upset, confused, or understood that we were just taking a break.

First Time Around The Block

My brother's first car - and he has had many since - was a 1976, I believe, Chevy Camaro RS. It had a 305 V8 engine, two-tone gold and primer paint and must have been made out of steel because this thing had the longest, heaviest doors of any car I've ever seen. I would describe it better but I've never been much of a gear head (I had to Google the engine size). In 1981 when he bought it, the only thing I knew was it was loud, fast and cool.

I enjoyed riding around in my brother's car but never had any aspirations of driving. I've always been one to get information first, then try something. (Unless information is not available in which case I will thoroughly screw things up with no outside assistance.) I was content to sit in the passenger seat (or the back) and just enjoy being with my brother in his loud, fast, cool car.

One weekend he had been working on it (as he often had to do) and ended up letting a friend, who had come over to help (or maybe just drool over the car), take it for a spin. Later, he and I were heading out on an errand and he pulled over and stopped just after turning the first corner on the route away from the house. He instructed me to get out and come sit in the driver's seat.

I was... confused would be a good word. I had no idea what he was trying to do until he told me he was going to let me drive his car out to the main street. I was... still confused would be an accurate description. My brother told me he didn't want me to be jealous because he had let [insert name of unremembered friend] drive the car and was going to let me take the wheel. I thought what the hell and got in the driver's seat.

Up until this point, my only experience in control of a motor vehicle was limited to an incident with a malfunctioning school bus and the bus driver asking me to give it some gas (the parking brake was on) while he gave the engine a magic stare that would presumably accurately diagnose the difficulty and allow him to repair it without tools or duct tape. I pushed down on the pedal and what happened next broke his concentration, thus rendering the magic stare useless. I didn't mash the pedal down to the floor - I knew that would be too much - but I did give it a firm press and the engine revved up so quickly that it startled me and I removed my foot very quickly.

Recalling this incident, I knew I had to be cautious with the gas pedal. It wouldn't do to go barreling down the street only to ruin someone's manicured lawn and begin a lengthy and costly renovation project by rapidly installing a new, wide doorway directly into their living room.

I put the car in gear and pretty much let the idle carry me to the end of the short street. I signaled right and gave it some gas to make the turn. Being a V8, the engine accelerated more rapidly than I expected so I reacted by removing my foot almost completely from the gas pedal. The effect of this was to squish us gently into the seat backs then hurl us forward to be impeded by the shoulder straps.

I rounded the corner on inertia but had to correct our course when I almost drove it into the curb. Of course, I over-corrected slightly so immediately following the forward lunge was a lovely bi-lateral jolt.

I eventually managed to orient the giant, steel projectile I was strapped into relatively on course and on the correct side of the street but we were on a slight upward grade so idling to the corner wasn't going to happen. I pressed the gas pedal again and my brother and I were treated to a repeat performance of the squish-lunge maneuver. I wanted so bad to do this well but each time I tried to accelerate smoothly the vehicle informed me that I was seriously underestimating the power of its 305 engine.

I made it about half way up the street and decided to give up before I gave one or both of us whiplash. I pulled over, said "thank you" to my brother and let him take over from there. It wasn't until I took driver's education that I took control of a vehicle again. I wasn't afraid but it was nice to have someone next to me telling me to gently press down on the gas pedal.

-----------------------------------------------

Edit: I have been notified by my brother that it was a 1971 Camaro with a 350 V8. He doesn't remember the incident but he let me know that I got the car wrong.

The Musical Stylings Of John Erling

I never really developed a musical preference until I was in high school. It wasn't that I had no interest in music, I simply didn't have much exposure to music.

When I was growing up in Tulsa, OK my father would always listen to radio station KRMG as we had breakfast. KRMG is a news/talk station that had a couple of different morning personalities that I recall. (I would later work at that same radio station but that's a different story) The first morning personality was a guy named Watson Jelks. In the grand scheme of my life, he was not there very long. The one I recall most was a guy named John Erling (as far as I know he might still be there).

John Erling was like a cross between Johnny Carson and Rush Limbaugh. He liked to have fun with things such as encouraging everyone to ski the Tulsa mountains and he handled phone calls (which were often part of the show) with courtesy and professionalism. But he also liked to push buttons (thus the Rush Limbaugh reference).

To give Mr. Erling an occasional break that was longer than commercials could provide, KRMG would play a song, maybe two from time to time. The music they played could best be described as adult contemporary. Keep in mind this was 1973 to about 1980 so I grew up listening to such greats as Neil Diamond, Chuck Mangione and James Taylor. Not a bad lot but a little weak for a young boy trying to formulate his musical style.

By the time I got to high school the opinions of my peers were beginning to matter more and more and I started mimicking their listening habits. As such, I am a true child of the 80's. My musical preferences at that time switched to artists like Duran Duran, Rick Springfield, Tommy Tutone and The Thompson Twins.

I got into the "alternative" scene during the late 80's while I was in college. I listened to The Cure, R.E.M. and The Smiths. This was mostly because of the influence of certain members of the opposite sex. I was also cultivating an affinity for Jazz thanks to my Father and started becoming familiar with true classic rock. As we moved into the 90's I pretty much lost touch with the contemporary music scene. I just couldn't get into bands like Nirvana and some of the others.

I think in the last 5 years I have really hit my stride and found a preferred musical genre. Remember that classic rock I talked about? That's it. I really enjoy The Who, Eric Clapton, Boston, and a little bit of AC/DC. It only took me 35 years or so but I think I finally settled in to what I really like in music.

The Blog Of ME

Not too long ago I said that I wanted to start using my blog to record my memories. That way, I might actually create a memoir like it says in the title.

I have written a few of these memories and I have a couple more in the queue but, as I'm sure you know, sometimes it's hard to know what to actually record (and sometimes it's hard to find time). With that in mind, I picked up a copy of The Book of ME. It is designed to be a guided memoir with questions grouped into different categories designed to help you write your story.

I'm sure I won't be answering every question here in this public forum. As I skimmed through the book there seemed to be a couple of questions that didn't seem to apply. Plus, some other questions I saw prompted such simple answers, at the time, that they wouldn't make good stories.

Stay tuned as we go through this journey together.