Long Cold Winter

 

I remember when The Big Chill was showing on cable when I was young, and I remember thinking it was such a grown-up movie...like how grown-ups really liked boring stuff. Chariots of Fire was the other one. Fast forward nearly forty years and a few weeks ago, I found myself thinking about that out of the blue and I thought that I should probably watch this movie.

Naturally, the library had a copy of the DVD and I checked it out to watch over Thanksgiving. The long weekend came and went, but we finally sat down for it and what a good movie this is, but I movie I don't I would have appreciated until a minimum of three or four years ago. 

There's an honesty about these characters, the way they interact and how they talk to each other, that gives this movie it's power. It's a rare, genuine examination of friendship and passing into middle age...and it still holds true. 

My Vote is Cast

 

I voted today. This is the first year that New York has early voting, and I took advantage of it and did my civic duty today. I strongly believe in the power of voting and have voted in every election since I turned 18, not just every four years and not just national elections. I get the disillusionment that many feel, but the system is counting on your continued disillusionment which is why voting is important.

This year I voted for Joe Biden and the other Democratic party candidates, but I voted for them on the Working Families line. Though I'm a registered Democrat, I only registered as one in 2015 in order to vote for Bernie in the primaries. I've voted for Democrats in every election, but hold no illusion that the party represents my interests. 

This year, it was especially important to me that I voted on a third party line, even if it was for a candidate of the Democratic party. It may seem like forever ago, but it was only back in Feb. that we say the party manipulate the process to get their moderate on the ticket and squash the progressive movement. By voting on the Working Families line, it is my way of letting them know that they need to honor the progressive agenda if they want to continue to count on my support. 

The Crazy is Out There...

 

Any one alive in America today is aware that things be getting weird. The level of insanity that surrounds the never-ending disinformation stream is unmeasurable. Just when you think you've heard everything, something pops out of nowhere to tell you the next bat shit crazy QAnon theory...and though you want to laugh, you know there are way, way too many people who believe it to laugh it away.

But it's not just QAnon, the crazy comes fast and furious from all sides, both the left and the right. I was speaking with someone yesterday who by all accounts is extremely liberal. During the course of our conversation, I discovered the murky area where the far right and the far left meet, somewhere at the bottom of the circle. 

There is plenty of blame to be leveled for how we got to this point, but real problem is not how we got there but that we are there. The post-truth era is flourishing. People question everything and believe nothing except for what they are already inclined to believe. 

We live in a world where everyone is simply trying to shout over every one else, and nothing is being heard. Unless some serious discourse can be had, we are headed for far more dangerous time.

Fiction Friday (109)

When I finished reading the last book I was reading, the libraries were still closed, which meant going once again to my "To-Be-Read" shelf. After reading some lighter books recently, I really wanted to dig into something literary. On my shelf was a hundred year old copy of this book which I'd been meaning to read for years. It was time, and it was really a good time to read this book with all the unrest in the world at this moment.

 

 

Light by Henri Barbusse

(1919)

France at the turn of the century was like many Western societies at that time. The industrial revolution had sunk it's teeth into the culture, and when it started to falter, it dragged the working class down within its clutches. The aristocracy remains relatively unaffected except by the increase of wealth and influence, with a decrease in civic responsibility.

Yet, there is always love if only for the youth. We are told the tale of a young man making modest gains in life when he falls in love and sees beauty despite the misery and political unrest around him. But the young man learns that love fades and that upward mobility is reserved for the few.

Life begins to pass quickly when it becomes monotonous...but there is always war to change all of that.

The divided ideals competing for space all converge in the culmination that would become The Great War. Anarchists, Communists, Militarists, Nationalism, Royalty and ruling classes, workers and radicals...it erupts into war, as it always seems to do. Swept up in a wave of national pride, our young man, who isn't quite as young as he used to be, enlists in the Army.

The descriptions of life in the trenches between France and Germany reads literally like Hell. It's an emptiness void of humanity, of personality, of choice. It's a never-ending repetition of hopelessness. I've always thought of Barbusse as a writer of bleakness. He sinks into the depth of the human soul and finds the void that exists after each layer is peeled away. There was no doubt in my mind that he could capture that experience, as well as the perspective of the lost man who returns home from the front into a world of patriotic nonsense.

What I didn't expect was the last thirty pages or so which renew the sense of hope from earlier. Love is renewed, though not the same as youthful love, but a deeper understanding of what it means to share a life with someone. And there is an endless hope for humankind. No matter how terrible the forces of war are, the people will always rise up again. The wave of militarism will pass. Equality and Justice will prevail, because regardless of nationality, we are all human.

This is not a light read, but a powerful one.

The Times They Are a Changin'...Hopefully

(photo from: https://hudsonvalleyone.com/2020/06/04/kingston-walk-for-black-lives-march-and-rally-draws-over-1500/)

To say it's been an interesting week, is an understatement. Hell, it's been a turbulent year, with no end in sight. A year that threatens the complete uprooting of our society. For the first time since 9/11, we are living in a powder keg world...whether it explodes or defuses is yet to be seen.

Yesterday, over 1,500 people marched past my house in the biggest coming together moment this town has seen in generations. They marched peacefully, but we should not mistake peace for complacency. There is outrage out there, outrage on so many fronts. Outrage that has been boiling over for years. Outrage that may finally lead to change...real change.

I've seen and read on Social Media the usual responses from those who don't even realize the extent of systemic racism. They criticize the looting, they 'stand with police' because they think this is all about hating the police, they think people want handouts when they should work....all the same retreaded nonsense. To those people I say this:

This is about police tactics and policing policies that discriminate based on color...of course it is. But it's about so much more. 

It's about schools that are unequal based on where you live and your income.

It's about poisoned drinking water.

It's about job opportunities and why people of color have lost their jobs at a higher rate.

It's about health care and why people of color are dying at a higher rate from this pandemic.

It's about housing conditions.

It's about decency, and respect, and equality.

It's about America and the short-comings of our ideal.

And it's about the fact that we have a blatantly racist president who seeks to divide us. A president who gassed peaceful citizens so that he could take a photo in front of a church he doesn't even attend. A president who threatens Americans with vicious dogs for exercising their right to protest. A president who would use the military against his own people.

People are angry. People have been angry. A president who fans those flames is not helping anything. People are going to get angrier. They are going to continue to gather and change will come...one way or another, change is going to come.

The Way Time Goes...

It's been one of those strange weeks, one where the quick passage of time really hits home. It feels like just yesterday when our daughter was just as seed that we were waiting meet. This week, I had to fill out paperwork to register her Kindergarten...and renew her passport. 

The oddest thing about your child getting older, changing from baby to toddler to actual kid, is that they are quickly at the age where your own memories start in earnest. I have so many clear memories of the months leading up the Kindergarten and it's odd to think that these are times she will remember too.

Another Hard Goodbye...

Saying goodbye to a pet is one of the hardest tasks that we have to do in life. I've had to do it many times and it never gets easier. But one of the biggest responsibilities of being a pet owner is having to make the decision when the time comes. For our beloved Mitzie, that time came this past weekend.

Almost exactly 13 years ago, we brought this adorable fuzzball into our lives. She was all candy cane tail and squeaky meow, and a bundle of trouble...T-R-U-B-B-L-E kind of trouble. When she came home, we had another cat, Doggie. Mitzie loved to terrorize the Doggie with her kitten instincts. She loved the Doggie, but Doggie didn't particularly care for her. Doggie passed about a year later and that's when Mitzie become our little snuggle bug. 

Mitzie grew into a regal cat lady, but never lost her kitten ways. She would often climb into places where she couldn't get down, meowing until I came to rescue her with the ladder (though that never stopped her from going back to the same spot). She was fond of water experiments, tipping bowls, knocking glasses off tables, etc. She also dabbled in fire experiments, frequently trying to shove things in our old furnace. She had no manners whatsoever and would jump on the dinner table and eat off our plates. She once stole a chicken bone off my plate and growled at me when I tried to take it away. But she was also incredibly sweet and cleaned our hands with the scratchiest tongue ever, and always made sure my beard was spotless. 

Earlier this summer, we learned that she had a tumor in her belly and were completely heartbroken. We always jokingly told her "we're going to get you the help that you need" whenever she did anything crazy, but now it was real. We weren't going to put her through chemo, not at her age and not when it involved an hour long car ride (car rides literally scared the poop out of Mitzie). So we put her on a regiment of medicines, both natural and pharmaceutical. We tried Rife treatment. And we gave her plenty of love. Being the miracle cat that she was, we got three more months of Mitzie being Mitzie.

About two weeks ago, we noticed Mitzie was getting weaker. The steroids began losing their effect and she stopped eating. We increased the dose and gave her some other medicines, and for another week, she was back to normal. Then last week, we could tell she was getting tired. Her appetite had vanished. She slept more than normal. She even stopped hissing at our white cat, whom she's always hated. But she never stopped being affectionate. She never stopped curling up in my arms at night like a teddy bear. But she simply stopped being herself and it was time. We couldn't bear it if we had to watch Mitzie suffer.

A little over a year ago, we lost our Mr. Mowgli. I'm not sure Mitzie ever really got over his absence. They were constant companions.  I like to think they are together again now. Though I miss them both terribly, at least that thought gives me some comfort. 

Sleep Tight, Sweet Mitzie

Generation X

There's been a lot of talk about Generation X lately, after being ignored for so long with all the focus on Millennials. There was a recent article in the New York Times about what a "mess" the generation is, and how all it knew was that it didn't want what it was told to want. There's also a recent article in Vanity Fair which, I think accurately, states that Gen X might be the last hope of saving us in these dark global times. 

We are the children of the Baby Boomers, and while we have thrown out so many of the bad values of that generation, we are linked to their past, which has shaped us in knowing certain things that are important. One thing that I think is often overlooked is that the culture of Millennials has been shaped by the inventions of Gen X'ers, and our overthrow of many conventions of the past. We are the shapers of the new progressive movement. We are the ones who made the internet and mass communication possible. Millennials have only taken hold of these things after the flood, and for the most part, have sort of allowed them to run amock because they may not understand the place from which these things were born.

When you look at 90's mainstream culture, it was bland and boring. But underneath that mainstream culture, thriving sub-cultures abounded...cultures created by Generation X. The 90's were a boom for counter-culture, even beyond that of the famed 60's. The "shocking" elements of those counter cultures are nearly forgotten because most of it has become mainstream. Tattoos, piercings, marijuana use, shunning formal work attire, caring about the environment, acceptance of homosexuality, damning big business and exaggerated consumerism...these are all hallmarks of Generation X. Our vision of the world hasn't faded, if anything, it's being propelled forward.  As the selfishness of the Baby Boomers begins to die off, I think we'll begin to see that Generation X's vision for the world is a much better model. Let's just hope we can survive the damage that's already been done long enough to see it take hold.

When Reality and Fiction Meet

As I mentioned a little while ago, I've been working on a new manuscript for the past two months and have shockingly been making progress on it. It's a story set in my own house, using elements from my own life, which is always the easiest place to start and embellish.

The idea for the story came to me over the winter. I was lying in bed and had nearly fallen asleep when I heard two pronounced footsteps in the attic above my head. They were not the sounds an animal would make. They were human sounding footsteps. Only two of them. Two footsteps that started and ended in the middle of the room. I would've thought I was imagining it except that my faithful cat, who was lying beside me, also looked up at the sound, confirming that the footsteps were not some half-dream hallucination.

This past week, I finished writing a scene where a bird delivered a message to a character in the attic. The attic in the story is my attic. Oddly enough, two days ago, a bird mysteriously showed up in our attic a day after completing the scene. The bird was one meeting the description of the bird in the story. There seemed to be no way the bird could have ended up in there, but my wife clearly saw it at the window when she was outside. Even more puzzling, when she went to free it, it wasn't there.

These are the kinds of events that give me the encouragement to continue. It's the kind of thing that reminds me how art, and the creation of art, exist in a strangely connected way to life that is a mystery worth exploring.

The Start of Something....

As frequent readers of this blog know, I'd been in grad school for the past three years and recently graduated in the Fall with a Masters degree in Library Science. Since then, I'd been searching for a job in the field, but was having some difficulty landing one was that nearby, and desirable. Part of the problem was my lack of experience in the field, though I have a lot of translatable experience.

This week, I'm happy to share with you all that I've accepted a position at the library in the town neighboring mine. It's a part time job, and not specifically in the children's field, but it does include many aspects of working with teens. It's a wonderful introductory position and I can't wait to share all that I've learned with the people of that community. It will also give a lot more time to fully invest in my writing career once again. 

Here's to the start of a new journey on the road of life...

Saying Goodbye....

One week ago, my grandfather passed away at the age of 92. He was the last of my grandparents, and the last of my daughter's great grandparents. It was the loss of a great man, and the loss of a generation that influenced our lives. 

My grandfather was the kind of person that taught by example. He was the type of person that I strive to emulate. He was a man who showed how a man was supposed to be by living his life the right way. His family was everything to him (as it was to my grandmother who passed away nearly 27 years ago). They instilled that spirit in my father (who passed away nearly 7 years ago), and he passed that on to me. 

Saying goodbye is always difficult, but the ceremonies were as he would have wanted. The past few days felt more like a celebration of a good life lived well. There was sadness, but there was just as much laughter as tears as the entire family (and it is a HUGE family) came together, something that becomes harder and harder as time and distance continue to get in the way. Together we said goodbye the way he would have wanted...with a party and lots of great food.

We miss you, Pop Pop!

We All Float On...

The new year has always truly felt like a new year in my life because my birthday falls on the last day of the first week of the calendar change. I've often wonder what significance a new year had on people whose birthday fell much later in the year because it would seem so artificial to me, the cycle of my life having always been tied to Earth's journey around the sun.

Something else that I find interesting is how the journey changes during adulthood. The passage of time becomes one of things that is tracked not by numbers but by experiences. As a parent, the passage of time is something I see in the changes in my daughter more than in myself. It's made me more appreciative of the journey.

Alice in Paris

One of the great things about being a collector of stuff that is supposed to appeal to children is when your child discovers something you didn't know you had. My daughter wanted to look at all of our movies the other day and so I opened the cabinet where we keep the DVDs that we never watch and she found this one and said, "That's Alice! Can we watch that?"

The movie in question is a little known 1966 Czech/American production called Alice of Wonderland in Paris. Being a huge Alice enthusiast, I acquired this DVD years ago. Upon my daughter's discover, it was still unopened and unwatched. 

Now I had an excuse to watch it, and I took it. We made a Daddy & Me afternoon and watched Alice in Paris. This isn't really an Alice story, she's used more as a frame tale to show three illustrated stories, one by Crockett Johnson, another one about the moon, and Madeline and the Bad Hat. I was thrilled with the Madeline and Alice connection, two of my favorite storybook characters. 

The animation was very 60's cartoon style, as was the voice work, which isn't surprising seeing that William Snyder of Tom & Jerry and Popeye fame, produced it. All in all, it was interesting, entertaining, but certainly for Alice completionists only.

In-Progress

At the beginning of the month, like the beginning of the past two Novembers, I set out to complete the novel challenge. And like the previous two Novembers, I failed. But unlike the last two years, I haven't had to abandon projects due to other obligations. And unlike the previous years, I split my time working on two projects, which didn't contribute to accomplishing the goal. However, progress was made on both and both continue to move forward, which isn't something I could say when the calendar flipped to December before.

Sometimes, I think we need to look at accomplishments in increments. Progress is, in itself, an accomplishment.

It's Not Harmless...It Means Something.

I saw the above image circulating on social media and it made me pause. Before I had a daughter, I don't think I would've given it a second thought, and that's part of the problem. Having a daughter has made me think about gender equality in entirely different ways. 

Had this said "intelligent" or "caring" or "strong", I would've shared it without thought. Though I do think my daughter is beautiful (every parent does), I don't want her to grow up thinking beauty is the only attribute worth having. Too often we teach our daughters that beauty is the most important thing. Fairy tales teach that as well. I recently wrote a research paper on gender stereotypes in Fairy tales, and one lesson that most of them teach girls is that beauty is the most powerful gift a girl can have. And as I watch my daughter get sucked into the Disney Princess marketing machine, I've been trying extra hard to counter that message. 

This week, over 100 women were elected to Congress...not because they were beautiful, but because they are smart, compassionate, and strong leaders. Those are the qualities that matter most. And while I do tell my daughter that she's beautiful, I tell her that she is smart at least ten times more often. I know there are people out there who will think I'm making too big of a deal out of something so harmless, but I disagree. All of these "harmless" things add up and multiply and help to reinforce the traditional gender roles that have never benefited women. I want better for my daughter and her friends.

They Want You Scared...Very Scared!

It's nothing new, it's an old story...election time comes around and the Grand Ole Populists want to scare up your vote. Literally. This cycle, the Republicans don't want voters to focus on the past two years in which they've controlled the governing branches of the government and have nothing to show for it except a huge tax cut for the rich that will bankrupt this country in eight years. Oh, and two wildly unpopular Supreme Court justices.

Remember Paul Ryan's promise of a unified Republican government? What has it gotten us? The answer is: two years of constant chaos from the executive branch. A dramatic decline in global standing. Rollbacks in environmental protections designed to benefit big industry at the expense of our air and water and future. A sharp rise in racism, fascism, and hatred. A trade war. A warming up to dictators and a cooling toward historical allies. And several (thankfully) defeated attempts to destroy the Affordable Care Act.

Not a great record to run on. That means it's time to bring out the fear. Let's talk about a caravan, let's inflate the numbers, let's falsely claim there are "Middle Easterners" in it. Let's deploy thousands of troops to the border at the cost of 150 million in tax money. Let's play to the suddenly comfortable racism of Republican voters to turn them out to vote. Let's lie. Let's lie. Let's lie!!!

I'm looking forward to voting and showing them that their fear doesn't work any longer. Please join me.

Parenthood

I'm three and half years into this parenthood thing...so you, know, an expert. (insert laughing emoji). The one thing that is a fact of parenthood is that it can be exhausting. No matter how well-behaved, or how awesome your child is (which mine is both), it can be exhausting. There's something to that thing that childless people say about liking kids but are happy to be able to leave. That's because there are things that a child does that on the surface seem harmless, but at the end of a long day, and after the seventh hundredth time they've done said thing, it's EXHAUSTING. 

I don't claim to have any answers or claim to know the right way to go about parenting, but I believe there a few things that parents should always keep in mind and thought I'd share those.

1. Stay calm, because if you start to overreact, they feed off that energy, creating a dangerous dynamic.

2. Patience, patience, patience. They will try to test this at every turn, and failure to remain patient never ends well.

3. Talk to them as if they understand, and if at any moment, you sense they don't understand, try to explain it a different way that they might understand. And always follow-up with them with questions to be sure they've comprehended the important points.

4. Show them love, especially at those points when you've reached your limit. Let them know that being angry or frustrated will never mean you don't love them.

5. Remember that they are real people (albeit small ones) with real emotions and thoughts, and that those thoughts and emotions are just as important and valuable to them as yours are to you. 

One Week in a Life

There are certain weeks in the timeline of life that for one reason or another hold special significance. This is one of those weeks in my timeline. There are a lot of memories attached to this week, and memories create new thoughts as old moments are relived. The week began with memories of 9/11, which felt very far away on Tuesday. But when I watched some recently released audio on Wednesday, the paralyzing horror that I felt that day in NYC came back, but so did the sense of community that flowed through NYC in the weeks afterward. 

At the end of this week, it will six years ago that my dad passed away. I was fortunate enough to be with him and two of my brothers for three days in Houston just before he died. As with 9/11, it's a weekend that increasingly feels far away. The funny thing about time is that so much life happens as it passes, that the accumulation overshadows all that came before.

My daughter is a big part of that accumulation of newness. Yesterday, she wrote her name for the first time. I'm not sure why that is a moment that felt so important to me, but it did. Perhaps because it's one more step toward literacy and the world of stories and learning that such a skill will open for her. 

Yesterday also marked the 20th anniversary of my first date with the girl who would go on to become my wife, my best friend, the mother of my child, and the love of my life. In that course of time, all of the changes that it has brought, she has always been my constant. Though our lives have changed very much, they've always been changing together and I'm so grateful for her.

To celebrate, last night we went to see one my favorite bands of the past few years, The Mystic Braves. They came from L.A. to play in our small city. We were two of very few people to attend, but it was a wonderful night. We were able to walk to the show, enjoy dinner, and "hang out" for several hours the way we used to do before we became the parents of an intelligent, and sometimes demanding, little girl. 

For whatever reason, most likely something to do with the zodiac, the second week of September is one in which the universe has zeroed in on me and chosen to focus its attention. As I grow older, I've come to see all events, both good and bad, as part of the magic of life and try to appreciate the journey...whatever may be, may be.

The Art of Letting Go

Mowgli Rockefeller BoJangles, Major Tom Hotpants  

(aka. Sir Captain Hopscotch)

You came to us,
           a few short weeks after we lost our other cat.

You came to us from out of the woods
          and we called you Mowgli.

You wanted nothing from us but our affection,
         which you returned tenfold.

You came to us, skinny . . lost . . all ears and paws.

You came to us, our handsome cat-man.

For nine years, you followed me around,
     screaming at me until I sat down
          because a lap was the only home you ever wanted.

You slept under the covers, or at the foot of the bed.
You slept with my arm wrapped around you,
           your head on my pillow.
You woke me early in the morning when you wanted fed.

You showed us your big paw when you were happy,
       with a regal purr and clip-clop claws.
   The looks you gave . . melted all pain away.

Your sickness came quick,
                   caught us unprepared.

Your energy dwindled and your hunger left,
                  but your love remained until the end.

Our hearts have a place for you that will never be filled,
     but we are forever grateful for the time with us that you spent.

The Fragility of Time

We got some tough news this past week...Mr. Mowgli Rockefeller BoJangles Major Tom Hotpants (aka Sir Captain Hopscotch), our loving catman, hasn't been quite himself of late. He's an older cat, and he had grown less active and less hungry over the summer. After being diagnosed with a thyroid condition and given medication, he improved slightly. But last week, things got more dramatic. He started eating less and less, and was getting thinner and thinner. He was sleeping in a closet, or under a chair where he's never slept before, and wasn't seeking our affection. 

When we took him to the vet, they ran some tests, which all came back negative. Then they did a chest x-ray...and that's when we got the bad news. A tumor occupies a good portion of his one lung, and it has been taking most of his energy to breathe, which is why he wasn't eating. There is nothing they can really do. They gave him a steroid shot...which has brought him back to his old self, or at least as close to it as he's been all summer. But it's just a matter of time at this point. 

After a lot of crying came the acceptance that this is the long goodbye. With the time we have left, I'm going to do my best to give him all the attention I can and shower him with the same intense love he's always showed us. In some ways the long goodbye is better, but in some ways it's harder.