Leaves and Life

Perhaps I missed the changing colors that signal the progression of the seasons
But there is no missing the dry brown leaves that now descend to their earthly homes
Never alone, but always in every growing groups
Huddling against stone walls, against tree trunks,
Against anything that will provide their lifeless lightness with structure
Only to be moved about without control
Pushed by the breezes of the wind or the cars rushing by
To new homes with new groups with which there will be but a temporary stay
Before the comb like rakes and hurricane wind machines move them out of sight
Where we no longer have to look on them or deal with their troublesome appearance.

Perhaps I missed the changing times that signal the downward trend of the society
But there is no missing the once self-sufficient who now descend to their foreign homes
No longer alone, but newly in ever growing groups
Huddling on sidewalks, in shelters,
In anything that will provide their lightless lives with sustenance
Only to be moved about without control
Pushed by the breezes of governmental agencies and social services.
To new homes with new groups with which there will be but a temporary stay.
Before the comb like rules and hot air regulations move them out of sight
Where we no longer have to look on them or deal with their troublesome appearance.

Missing in Action

I love the lyric, "Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans". So true that as we plan. life goes on and sometimes, it goes on to the extent that the plans that were being made no longer work. It seems also that life sometimes is happens while the presumed writer is not writing.

Where has the burning desire gone? Where has the "everything seems worth of writing about" gone? Where is the energy? Where is the creative feelings that boiled over every day?

Where has my focus been? On children, on father-in-laws, on work, on trying to find the energy - which I don't have now.

Keeping Score

Written Saturday, October 11, 2008:

This morning I watched the end of a movie I had seen before but it was a reminder of a truth that I know but, in the living of iife, I sometimes forget to keep in the forefront as a torch to light the way. In the movie, the mentor takes his student on a hike promising to show him something that the mentor believes the student is finally ready to view. After a thee hour walk filled with the student's excited anticipation, the sight to behold was simply a stone on the ground. To his confused and upset student, the mentor explained that even he did not know what would be found at the end of their hike, but he questioned the student's reaction since the student had been so happy and excited during the hike. After an initial frustrated outburst, the student has an epiphamy. The joy and excitement is in the journey, not the destination.

Why is in such a difficult lesson to teach and a difficult way to live? Perhaps it is that we are so focused on goals and the goals are often destinations. Maybe recognition of the importance of the journey is why I have not focused on the grades my children make or how those grades will impact the colleges they will get in. Instead, I have stressed the importance of developing the skills to be a lifelong learner and the love of learning. It seems that the development of the skill and the love gives one some of the tools for life's journey. Now, admittedly, the grades may reflect the development or existence of these attributes, but not necessarily. There appear to be so many students who are getting the grades and doing the activities, but are doing so for the resume. As a result, they may be developing the skills without a pure love of learning. Maybe this is a maturity issue and perhaps not. I probably fell into the group more interested in the resume when was younger and, like most, I probably now am stuck between the love of learning (which I truly believe I have) and the love of grade - but now, the grades have been replaced by a different scorecard. It is a scorecard that includes a broad range of subject areas - family, work, creatve endeavors (such as writing, movie- making, photography). The most difficult scorecard is the one in which it is not easy to know what constitutes a "score" and those tend to be the ones with the long range (not instant gratification) elements. The easier ones for the score card are, like grades, easily seen - how much work is getting accomplished, how much money is being made, how many clients, how many friends, how many this and how many that, and it is these that one has to get beyond to see where they lead. So, today I have recorded one more score on the scorecard of journal entries, but where will this process lead?

A Yom Kippur Birthday Surgery Thought

I am reminded of the story in the Peanuts comic strip where Snoopy is writing his great novel. The novel involves three very separate and seemingly unrelated story lines (with the only one that I remember being the pirate ship sailing on an ocean). In the end, Snoopy brings the stories together. That concept certainly is not new in the annuls of story telling and writing, but it was new enough to make an impression on me. I wonder whether the author of Crash also read the Peanuts strip to come up with the ideas of finding the connection between the unconnected.

Today, there are three seemingly unrelated story lines taking place (certainly more, but I will focus on three).

Today is Yom Kippur. It is the Sabbath of Sabbaths, the holiest day in the Jewish calendar. This is a day that for almost fifty years I have attended temple for Yom Kippur services with my family and/or friends. While it has not always been a day of prayer, for over the years my thoughts and feelings about prayer, and my understanding of the term "prayer" have changed, but it always has been a day of reflection and introspection, of thoughtfulness and attempts at connection, of atonement and intention. Yet, today is Yom Kippur and I am not in temple and not participating in services. I am in a hospital waiting room which, for today, will be my temple. I am joined by family and friends, and I will have to find time and focus to create this Yom Kippur.

Today is Debbie's birthday. Typically, this is a day for celebrating her life, a day to congratulate her on another year, a day to focus (at least part of the day) on her - to single her out, a day to review all of the many accomplishments of the past year, a day to recognize her wonderful character, and a day to let her know how much she is loved and appreciated. Yet today, there are competing interests and although we will do much that is typical for a birthday, it will be done in a different and less prioritized manner, and like the difference between touching something directly and touching it through a covering, the sensation of this birthday recognition will be tempered.

Today is Al's surgery. This day is one for which I can draw no comparisons, no statements of how I typically spend this day and event. Thankfully, there have been few days in my life when I have been part of the surgical waiting team and there have been even fewer (have there been any) days in which the surgery is of such significant import with such significant potential impact. The period leading up to today has been so very meaningful as we have spent more time with Al than we typically get and we have had the chance to appreciate (even more than usual) his life story and many special qualities. When we left him, as he was being wheeled off to the operating room, we all remarked about the strength and dignity with which he was facing yet another one of his life challenging/threatening mission. Although only spoken about on the edges, there is no question that he and we know the risks involved and the potential benefits, and there was no need to speak directly about them. What was important was to speak about, or to convey simply with touches, looks, laughter and smiles, was those matters that did not start today but have been in every day of his life (and will be in every future day, week and year) - love and caring, the manner in which one chooses to live life and make his decisions, the importance of family and values, the importance of of making a difference. This is a man who has made a difference at so many levels throughout his life, and today we both reflect on those, and we think about the future and the impacts that he will make on lives as he continues to set the example, teach the lessons, create and inspire in his days to come - through his recovery and beyond.

So, three seemingly different and unrelated events on the same day are actually very connected. On this day of Yom Kippur, Debbie's birthday and Al's surgery, we find that we are performing the same ritual for each and unlike a typical day in which we may think about these topics, today we do so with a heightened sense of importance and focus. We reflect on all that has brought us to this day of Yom Kippur, Debbie's birthday and Al's surgery, and on that which each of us has brought to this day. We give thanks for all that we have - for the blessings of our lives. We look forward to the days and years to coming knowing that we cannot know what awaits us, but also knowing that we approach the future with love and optimism, with hope and intent, with a promise to live our lives fully. Perhaps this is the best Yom Kippur observance, the appropriate birthday recognition, and the best way to approach Al's surgery. If this all is prayer, then let it be so.

A Night at the Hospital - October 7 - Entry 6; A Variation on the Marine Hymn - A Prayer for All

From the Halls of Montezuma
To the shores of Tripoli;
We will fight our country's battles
In the air, on land and sea;
First to fight for right and freedom
And to keep our honor clean;
We are proud to claim the title
of United States Marine.

In our journey from birth to through life,
Whereever we may travel
May we fight the battle for what is right
In each instance and at each opportunity
To fight first for the good for all of mankind and our earthly home.
To do so recognizing the obligation to repair the world
To do so with pride at being a part of this world and journey
To do so with price in our own name and the name that we establish

Our flag's unfurled to every breeze
From dawn to setting sun;
We have fought in ev'ry clime and place
Where we could take a gun;
In the snow of far-off Northern lands
And in sunny tropic scenes;
You will find us always on the job--
The United States Marines.

Our lives are our flags waving in the wind of time
On each day from the dawn to the setting sun
We have battles to fight where ever we may go
Everyplace we walk or that we run
In the places of our birth and youth
And in the places of our adult years
May we always live with an appreciation
Of the blessings we have been given and those that we can give

Here's health to you and to our Corps
Which we are proud to serve
In many a strife we've fought for life
And never lost our nerve;
If the Army and the Navy
Ever look on Heaven's scenes;
They will find the streets are guarded
By United States Marines.

Here's health to each of us throughout our lives
Blessed by our lives and the time we have to use
At times in our lives there will be strife through which we fight
May we do so with strength and never lose our nerve
May we honor those on whose shoulders we stand
And assure those who follow us that the road has been continued
And the path of righteouness has been guarded
By each of us - let that be our word.

A Night at the Hospital - October 7 - Entry 5; God Is On My Shoulder

An Imagined Prayer

When my parents first looked at me,
Did they see god on my shoulder?

When I played on the streets of my youth,
I did not know that god was on my shoulder.

When I played on the fields of sport,
I did not know that god was on my shoulder.

When I was lost in the whirlwinds and darkness, and then found my way home,
I understood that god was on my shoulder.

When I first looked into the eyes of my beloved,
I knew that god was on my shoulder

When I gazed for the first time at each of my children,
I knew that god was on my shoulder and on each of their shoulders.

When I witnessed the passing of my youngest and then my beloved,
I wondered whether god was still on my shoulder.

When my life continued and I found joy in each day, in my children and granchildren and friends,
I knew once again that god was on my shoulder.

As I face the challenges of aging,
I know that god is on my shoulder.

As I face the battle for health
I know that god is on my shoulder

God has always been on my shoulder
God will always be on my shoulder
God will always be on my shoulder

A Night at the Hospital - October 7 - Entry 4

The clock approaches 4. This is not a night for sleep for there will be time for that later in the day. I'm being kept company by Rod Stewart and lyrics that can take me to different destinations. I am taking journeys through the landacapes of my youth, the pleasures and pains of love, the trials and tribulations life, the hopes and concerns of the future.

A Night at the Hospital - October 7 - Entry 3

If one thinks long enough, there is a connection between everything and lessons waitimg to be learned or drawn from everything. Each song on my iPod brings back a memory of a time gone by or the hope of a time yet to come and sometimes, both. Indeed, I absolutely marvel at duality and, more accurately, the multiplicity and layers of so many parts of life. I wonder if any thoughts or actions really are singular. We love to give because it helps others and we love to be known as one who gives. Not mutually exclusive, but yet very different. We can love and dislike at the same time. We can thrill at the unknown and fear it at the same time. The list goes on and I am thankful that the layers exist.

A Night at the Hospital - October 7 - Entry 2

It is 3 a.m and I am listening to Karen Armstrong as she traces the history of of religion and, in doing so, the history of the development of civilization as we known it. Armstrong speaks of the importance of movement and the power of fire for if one could steal the fire of another, one could also steal the persons cattle for the cattle always would folllow the fire.

Then, as if there was a commercial, interruption to an educational show, the voices of Simon and Garfunkle come forth singing "Old Friends". Perhaps this accident of the iPod shuttle function actually carries with it the message that we, the modern intellectual logical variation of man, do indeed have old friends in our distant ancestors

A Night at the Hospital - October 7 - Entry 1

A soft red glow eminates from the far corner of the room while a clear white light is visible through the white plastic screen covering the window in the door that separates this interior sanctuary safe haven from the outer world of the hospital. Next to the bed stands the ever moving monitor with its green diode number 70 remaining unchanged while a stream of unreadable letters move across the screen below, and the device is capped with a green glowing plastic that when in use will measure both pulse and blood oxygen.

Outside the night world moves through its schedule toward the morning light, but until that light arrives, the colorless night shelters all the dark possibilities of life, possibilities that will retreat like a vampire at first light but will not vanish. Still we hope for the first indication of light and the warmth that it offers even on a cold day.

The seconds on the clock tick by in a seemingless endless progression, on a journey that began long before I arrived and will continue long after I am not longer here to witness the timely transitions.

What is time and how is one moment connected to the next? Are we created anew with each passing moment? Certainly we are not exactly the same for cells come and go, and our minds change. So what are we and what makes us we and me me?

Where Have All the Entries Gone

Written October 2, but posted today.

As I sit at the Shapiro Cardiac Center waiting for the seminar provided to families of cardiac surgery patients, I have to admit that the experiment is over. The experiment was writing something every day.

The first sign of the end was when I began doing short entries on gmail that I failed to finish and therefore failed to post - but at least I has written something that day. Then came the days when I didn't even do the short non-posted entries. Then a week passed without writing for this journal.

I am not sure of the reason, but it certainly was not the lack of subject matter. I could have written about (and may still write about) (a) my father-in-law's rising battle with health issues, the financial crisis and my belief that if you tell the people often enough that the sky is falling, it will be brought down by the people, (b) the political scene in which it is hard to believe that we are where we are being limited to the choices we have, being exposed to sound bite, finger pointing, instant reaction, biased reporting, often superficial campaigns and media coverage, (c) old friendships that, when we are lucky, as have the chance to continue as I did last week over a late night beer, (d) my sister-in-law's broken leg that quickly morphed from simple to complex to challenging to threatening to finally being on the road to what we all hope will be a full recovery, (d) to the impact of the economy on those I do not know and those close to me, (e) to the day to day challenges of life from the caring for the family to caring for four dogs and two cats, (f) to the experience of my Temple involvement, and (g) to all of the biographical material that I want to explore and record. Perhaps it is that all of the topics take more time to explore and write about than I have. My Summer has transitioned to Fall. What will the Winter bring?

Michael - Facing Fears

Written October 4, but posted today.

There have been amazing changes in Michael. After 5 1/2 years in the confines of a kennel with only ocasaional times outside in the free light of day, Michael was a timid dog seemingly afraid of unknown sights and sounds, and certainly afraid of people he did not know. This approach and attitude evidenced itself in many ways from the barking to the running away ever seeking of shelter often in a corner seemingly protected on all sides, but also boxed in from all directions.

Somehow, however, Michael has learned to trust and, on doing so, he has seemed to find more peace. While he still barks at unknown noises, the barks stop when he recognizes the source and his body language changes from the stiff yet shaky panic to an exciting shimmy with the tail wagging the entire back half of his body. What a diference learning to trust has made in Michael's life and in our lives.

Thought of the Day: Like Michael's owners kept him in a closed area separated from those who would have cared about him and would have given him what he needed - companionship, playmates, attention, and more, we so often close ourselves off and, in doing so, we miss so many opportunities. Sometimes we believe that in closing ourselves off, we are protecting ourselves from some unknown hurt. In fact, we often are simply putting ourselves in a corner from which there is no seeming escape. In fact, the escape is to simply walk toward that which scares us and, in most cases, we will find that there is nothing to fear or that the consequences of facing our fears is less than we thought. In the end, we can be like Michael - still reacting when necessary, but then moving forward. Perhaps we too can wag our tails!

One Movement of the Second Hand

Written on September 22, but posted today.

The movement of the second hand from one clock-marking to the next was almost imperceptible and yet, with that movement, Summer 2008 was pushed off the cliff of time to slowly fade from memory except for the mental highlights that will flash from time to time but never give the full picture of the event. Summer 2008 now joins the pile of summers past that I constantly try to mine in order to recapture bits and pieces of my youth.

In line, just beyond the upcoming Fall, Winter and Spring, there are the Summers to come but I can't seem to make out how many Summers are in that line. Is it even a Summer waiting out there and if so,, is it alone? Those are questions for which I do not have the answers and so, I will turn my attention to today, the beginning of Fall-Autumn. Take your pick of the name, but for me it depends on what mood is to be created. Fall is a simple common sounding word while autumn is more formal and even "foreign" sounding. Still, each elicits pictures of leaves falling from the trees, apples being picked before they fall to the ground, and falling temperatures. It will be an Autumn - Fall to remember.

Road Trip

We pulled out of Omaha
On a trip that was long planned
Our car was fully loaded
Was a VW Bug, not a hippy van

And we headed north just Mark and me
On the adventure of our lives
These were the days when we were young and single
Without family or wives.

But we didn't make it far out of town
Before the car slowed down
No matter how hard we accelerated
So we turned ourselves around.

We knew that Mark's car was through
And our father's car would have to do
So two long hair brothers repacked and left
In a Galaxy 500 that was blue.

Oh that trip was fun, it was more than fine
And we had a wonderful time,
Here's the story of those days
Of our drives and walks and climbs.

[To Be Continued When the Memories Return]