Dear Mom, We're doing alright

Dear Mom,

It’s been almost a year.  The sky’s still blue, and what goes up still goes down.  Pretty much everything else has changed.  Donald Trump is president, and you probably know how I feel about that so let’s pretend that didn’t happen…  Bill Cosby was charged and eventually acquitted of some pretty heinous stuff.  I’ve been reading a lot.  I recently picked up Pat Conroy’s posthumous book A Low Country Heart.  It’s all excerpts from letters and blogs that he wrote in his late years.  I’ve been wanting to talk to you about it.  In my simple life, my family is good and happy.  Everyones growing on schedule, and healthy which is what matters.  Aubrey is a rising fifth grader, yeah I know… She loves to read, like you.  She’s been named “Busy Bee” reader two years straight! She’s also really coming out of her shell.  Remember how she would be too shy to order her food in a restaurant?  Now she walks right up and asks.  She loves spending time with friends, and playing outside.  Her neighbor friend and her created an “Animal Club” where they organized an agenda, lessons, and snacks for a few months.  This is all borne out of her creativity and love for nature, and science.  She’s traveling to spend a week in North Carolina with her cousins and Jenn’s family.   Liam has gone through quite the transformation.  He is a better listener, and has learned to handle frustration in a more respectful way.  His lack of focus is still there but just maybe he might be good-to-go without the help of medication.  This will be a big step forward for him, and we are proud of his maturation.  I still don’t know where he inherited his lack of focus… What’s really cool is his teacher this past year, Mrs. Shelton, really connected with him.  She was in her last year of teaching and my initial thoughts were that her patience had probably worn out years ago.  She proved me wrong, and turned out to be one of those teachers that Liam will remember for a lifetime.  There’s a great video we have of him hugging her during her presentation for the end of the year, and her tearing up.  I can guarantee you would have as well.  Dylan is a remarkable little kid. He’s still small in stature but makes up for it in personality and courage.  He’s also passionate about animals and asks anyone that is in earshot “what’s your favorite animal you like?” He stays in the hip-pocket of Liam and Aubrey and wants all the same privileges bestowed upon them and their advanced age.  And of all of them, and it’s been competitive, he’s the most daddy-crazy.  He wakes up with me, collects all of his toys and joins me in the shower, and asks questions that I’m not ready to answer first thing in the morning.  Then he joins me downstairs for breakfast, or whatever I have time for before I leave for the day.  It’s both an obstacle to getting up and moving, and a blessing in that I will remember those moments for the rest of my time.  Then there's JoElle.  Well, she’s perfect.  I can’t really say much more than that.  You know me, I’m not the most infant-friendly of adults.  I’m always too worried about each cough or how warm she feels.  She just looks at me and stares.  I can’t figure out if she’s looking at me or in my direction… She’s quiet for the most part and just likes to take in the moment and hear the voices around her—usually the kids arguing about whose turn it is or giggling as they play some type of game that borders on the edge of torture and hilarity.  We are quite the family.  I never saw myself with four kids but now it just feels like this was the plan all along.  

Even after fifteen years of marriage, Jenn and I are happy.  It’s pretty amazing given the naysayers and differences in backgrounds.  I’ve found the key ingredient is respect and care for each other’s passions, concerns, and lastly an enduring love.  What’s funny about love is that you don’t even know the depth or complexity of your feelings when you’re in the fray, only when you have had time to live it and feel it.  For the ups and downs, and those moments of truth that all relationships cross at some fateful point —it’s there to catch you.  I know I didn’t know that fifteen years ago, and I’m still in awe of the connection that we have formed through experiences, four children, multiple moves, and like I said before—the vicissitudes of this life.  She’s a wonderful mother.   She adored you—as a mother, and as a grandmother to our children. One of my regrets is that she did’t get a chance to tell you one more time.  Just know that she loves you, and misses you everyday.

So here I am, thirty-nine years young and starting to feel more and more like an adult.  It takes some years to pass by to know that this life is not a guarantee, and we need to take each moment in—and try our damnedest  to live it fully.  I’ve lost thirty-five pounds since March through a more disciplined diet and moderate exercise.  I know you know that dieting isn’t fun so you can be empathetic of my journey.  What I can tell you is that it hasn’t been that hard given the alternative.  It starts with awareness.  Then I’ve used that motivate my actions every morning of everyday.  Seeing you go through what you went through, and knowing that life can be cruel and swift in its decisiveness, has been an impetus for both Mary and me to take a more healthy approach.  I don’t want to give into any sense of helplessness and take the reigns of what I can influence in my life.  This is just a first step, so I can’t rest on my laurels.  

I have sat down and decided to write something in earnest.  I’ve just crossed the twenty-thousand word threshold.  This is a big moment for me given that I have about twenty five beginnings of something, but that’s it.  I'm excited about where it’s going and wish you could be the first person to read it when I finish.  It’s about relationships, love, and what happens when people mess it all up due to some self fulfilling prophecy.  I’ve really enjoyed writing dialog and recreating these relationships that are both imaginary and somewhat drawn from real life.  You’ve provide me a rich life. One that has challenge me to put myself out there, to be confident, and to be loyal and committed in everything I’ve done. I appreciate that.  I’m so mad that you won’t be able to read it.  I know that you would be honest and supportive.  I harbor no ambitions of becoming famous, or even having it published.  Even though self-publishing is a very real thing these days.  It's for me.  I set a goal to write a novel before I turned thirty.  So here I am almost a decade late.  

I miss you.  I know that no matter what happened to you after you left this life, wherever you are, I know that you are making the best of it.  You always have, through thick and thin.  I always admired your simplicity of needs, yet passion for experiences.  Not in the daredevil, adrenaline type of experience but in the vast possibility of human kindness.  Whether it was traveling with the church, or helping a neighbor who needed help. I know that wherever the good people go, you are there telling them about the potential of others to do good.  You loved to travel and see the world. You enjoyed visiting locations that were both awe inspiring in beauty and adorned in cultural relevance which is something that you have inspired in both Mary and me.  We’ve grown significantly closer since you left.  You used to always say that you wished we would treat each other more nicely and enjoy each other’s company.  You succeeded in that vision even if it took years for us to appreciate each other’s company like we do today.  

We have the Ryan family reunion here in about two weeks. This time last year none of us truly knew what the future would look like for you.  I know that I tried to deny that it was something serious and you allowed me to do this.  Just like always, you were looking out for everyone else.  Not a selfish bone in your body.  If I could go back in time, I would have spent more time with you.  I would have visited you more often, and I would’ve called you at least once a day.  The Ryan’s will be back together in a couple of weeks.  I know that we will have fun, and laugh, drink, and get sunburnt (well at least the northerners).  I also know that every day I will take at least one moment and think about you.  You will be with us.  

Thirty-nine years… It took the death of my mom for me to grow up. I always was a momma’s boy, even though I wouldn’t admit it.  

Eternal Love and Gratitude,

Ryan

The never-ending Healthcare debate (my perspective)

The American Healthcare Act is a trojan horse.  It’s snake oil sold by the one of the greatest salesman of the last century.  Just being straight forward here, I am not in support of much of anything that the Trump administration has put forward in the last 100 days.  Especially this concept of freedom from government oppression—otherwise known as the Affordable Care Act.  Aka Obamacare.  This bill is nothing more than a tax cut for the wealthy under the guise of giving voters what they want— “Repeal and Replace”. I know that some of you reading this are getting ready to minimize this window, or close out the app.  Proceed if you will.  In the event you are still reading, I’d appreciate your patience in waiting until the end of this exercise in courage and free thought.  

For the last decade or so, we’ve been divided in many ways.  So at odds, that to even concede any agreement with the other side is seen as treasonous.  We all have had these moments when a loved, or respected one says something so damn wrong or misinformed, and we just sit their silently and take it.  There’s the problem right?  We are all misinformed by our own bias and alliances and refuse to listen to the other perspective. Fake news and such… So I’m going to not speak in quotes or “facts” because that is useless in the modern debate.  I will just think out loud and see where that takes us.

We are all good, to some extent.  There are signs of this everyday.  Good samaritans helping the stranded.  Go Fund Me campaigns to support the sick and needy.  The problem with the Great American Healthcare debate is that it has been coopted as an argument of individual liberties.  We’ve shed our humanity, and quite frankly our American way.  What I hear so often are two arguments from the anti-healthcare lot.  I am going to break these down quickly.

One is that Healthcare has always been there for the sick and poor in the form of the Emergency Room.  It has all been said before by the left, so I will not bore you with the reasons that this is backwards.  I will share why this isn’t practical in terms of how it impacts day to day life.  First of all, the middle class doesn’t want to dodge their bills.  Any hard working person doesn’t want to be a liability or a freeloader.  Often a parent will bypass their checkup, or fight through pain and suffering due to the fact that they know that the bill will be large, and that every cent of their paycheck is allocated to their power bill, or car payment.  I’ve personally been there where I will not go to the doctor to get a sore spot on my foot looked at because I can just manage the pain.  Now we are all weak when it comes to our loved ones.  We opt not to buy the inhaler in hopes that the cough deep in our lungs will work itself out.  Or we wait to the next paycheck to buy it.  When your child has a deep cough, or your spouse has a high fever— in these moments we are willing to pay the bill.  It is often here when we can’t afford the high cost yet we pay.  Now, the impoverished and truly poor have Medicaid.  Medicaid provides them childcare for their children and will pay for that hospital stay or expensive prescription.  Even those “illegals” that have an open wound or broken bone won’t get turned away at the emergency room.  Call me what you want, I don't think in a civilized society that sick people should ever be turned away.  The more sophisticated debaters on the pro-healthcare-for-all-side will share with you that this is not cost effective. The more flu-inflicted and less “emergency” type situations that visit the Emergency Room the more cost goes up, and will likely be paid by some type of government relief or be absorbed by those that are paying the bills. This is the argument that many anti believers have subscribed to because it makes them feel  better. This is the “If they need healthcare, they can get it…” argument.  Even though this logic doesn’t hold up and is counter to what so many hardworking Americans would actually do when it comes to what ails them.  We push through, and persevere— even when our body is trying to tell us something sinister lies beneath the surface

The less humanitarian approach is to think about the dollar side of it completely.  It’s a cold approach to how a government should be run, and what a government is responsible for.  I really have trouble understanding this group.  They will throw the constitution at you and try to find the most pedantic argument at you to shut you down.  It is their belief that Government is responsible for staying out of our way, and at the most— protect us from threats foreign and domestic.  To them, any government program is a failed program.  I’m not going to go down that rabbit hole.  When I think of public health, and the potential threats that can potentially spin out of control I only have to look at history to see there were instances where we needed more funding or research that would have saved more lives.  I get it, can our universities and privately funded grants provide some of this research? Sure… I just hope that when history looks back at this time in our lives, those scholars can say we did the right thing. As one of the only civilized societies that doesn’t have government funded healthcare, our decisions (our votes) will be how we are defined.  This mentality that we are all in this on our own, and for those that can’t afford quality healthcare (or any for that matter) are unmotivated and unworthy is a moral decision.  There is so much government waste, and so much redundancy and lack of scruples in the positions of power (under both parties) that it’s sad to think that there are children that wont receive the treatment they deserve.  Their is the single mother that bypasses her annual checkup and fosters her kids before they have a chance to really get to know the sacrifices she made so they could live a normal life up to that point.  For every anecdote there is one for the other side, so I will stop. 

I’ve faced great moral conundrums in my time.  We all have.  Sometimes they aren’t so obvious, we just live through it and act accordingly.  These defining moments echo throughout our lives.  There should be a congruency between our actions and our values.  And when there is not, here comes the guilt.  This should only happen from time to time. Seldom moments that we all wish we could have back.  That fleeting sequence in time where we should’ve stood up for our friend when confronted by a blatant lie. When our pride gets in the way, and we couldn't be honest and admit our failure. In that instance when we were confronted with a wayward opinion, and we didn’t say anything in the spirit of cooperation.  We have all been there, and that is okay.  The truth that I ground myself in is that almost everyone that is making the decision has no risk of losing their great- healthcare.  I have always had healthcare insurance.  Not always the greatest, but there.  My kids, and family have always had that safety net in the event that arms were broken, or they were sick.  I will most likely always had some form of healthcare. In fact, mine will be better than a lot of people that I know and interact with everyday.  Yet, I could stand to lose it if we screw this up.  So for those of us that are able to vote, or speak up— we should.  For those that have the power to cast a vote in our government it is a  moral decision, not a financial decision.  For those of that are affected by this vote, it will be a financial decision- or already is… Do we pay for that checkup, or medicine? Or do we continue to play Russian Roulette with our lives, and our families?  I ask that you listen to your congressman, or senator and hear what he is saying. Because he’s not talking about his healthcare, or what might impact his family.  He doesn’t live your life, he has healthcare insurance.  

Like I wrote before, congruency in our words and actions matter.  It’s easy to take the principled argument of your father, or well respected role model and say that in theory we should all work for everything we get… That is well principled. In fact, I live by that code.  I don’t believe in handouts.  But life and pursuit of happiness is not a handout.  The life of your children is not a handout.  It’s a right in the greatest country in the world.  So many of us watch our 401k grow at a nominal amount each year, and we are satisfied with that.  We scratch by to find money for a birthday gift that our kid wants, but we can’t really afford.  We make choices that affect our credit rating and take risks with our money in hopes that a check will clear.  This is the life of so many of us, and yet we are not congruent.  Some of us even receive handouts from taxpayer funds, yet we don’t see the hypocrisy in it.  It’s different right…I don’t say that to be rude, I say that because it’s okay to need help.  That is normal.

So, what will it be?  Do we allow the snake oil salesman to tell us that we should abandon this idea that our children deserve healthcare?  That we don’t deserve the right to see one of America’s great doctors that may or may not have been subsidized to get their license to practice through scholarships and grants?  It’s not easy. Like the president said, he didn’t know it was this complicated.  I’m not saying that what we have is great, or even good.  Let’s put the politics aside and fix it versus blow it up and go back to the good ole days when insurance companies can take your monthly payment yet turn you away when you really need it… We are better than this.  

Mother's Day 2017- Moms can be mythic. Mine is...

It’s been almost 7 months since Jo Ellen Ryan, my wonderful mother shed her human skin and transcended life on this spec in the universe.  I, unlike many people I care about, am not certain of much.  Especially what happens after we leave earth.  I find myself constantly doubting what is and isn’t.  I do know that she has taken on a new mythic like role in my life.  All mother’s have that ability on sons and daughters.  Her imprint on me is both visible and deeply buried in my psyche. I imagine it’s that way for others, we are just unaware of this feeling for most of our lives.  Until it is often too late.  

I often think about her, and what she would be doing right this moment if it wasn’t for cancer.  I know this time last year she was just starting to enjoy her new life with her husband Don. They lived the best kind of life— an uncomplicated one.  One that was full of quiet moments together, talking and getting to know each other.  Sharing stories of their lives and how it formed the world weary adults they grew to become. They shared politics, and views on how people should both take responsibility for themselves as well as how we should all take care of each other. I doubt they talked much of religion but they had a deep abiding respect for each others views.  I imagine today they would have went to get breakfast together or lunch, at one of their favorite restaurants.  Mom was adventurous about trying new things, and seeing unique places.  I know they would be out enjoying this weather, and taking in the day savoring each moment like a sip of a fine red wine.  Don has become a part of our family, and us his.  That is one of the good things to come out of all of this.  My children have really grown close to him, and interact with him as if they’ve always known him.  My heart is imbued with sadness for him.  I can’t imagine losing a person that was so instrumental in my day-to-day life as he has.  We are all sad, and affected by this year and what she had to go through in her last breathing moments.  I imagine his pain is much different.  I hope he knows that he doesn’t have to be lonely, and that just like his blood family we think about him everyday and look forward to our next day together.  

The way my life has changed is hard to say.  In some ways, life just goes on.  We are all here for a ride, sometimes it’s bumpy.  On many days it’s slow and routine. I have wondered what my loved ones would do when I died.  I’m sure they would be sad.  There’s no doubt.  I wouldn’t surround myself with people that didn’t feel that way about me.  However, after a few days or weeks, life would go on.  I guess that is what we would want for them right.  We want to have a legacy, and enrich the lives of all that we have come in contact with in some form or fashion.  I know that is what she wanted.  I would never have characterized my mother as brave for most of her life.  My opinion was forever changed after this year.  Those final days were full of hope, and then stark realizations that we have very little influence on what happens and what doesn’t.  It was truly a trying moment for the soul.  My sister and I grew closer in those days.  I know that made mom happy.  Even when she wasn’t coherent in her thoughts, and words, I know that she was thankful for the life she had lived, and the grace that she had been given.  If she was angry, I didn’t know.  She was always happy to see us, and deeply resolute in where she was headed.  Even when no one was sure what the next day looked like, she was okay with that.  

Aubrey, Liam, and Dylan lost their “Nana”.  I know that is a tragedy.  Mom was a great, Grandmother.  She spoiled them with her time, and treats.  She was so connected to whatever was going on in their lives whether it be their school, or friends.  She showed genuine interest in what I admittedly sometimes don’t. They ask about her often.  We have added photographs of mom all over the house, and tried to ensure they won’t forget her.  I know we make pacts with our future selves all the time to not forget.  I also know that we often let ourselves down. I know that Aubrey is truly hurting throughout all of this.  She was the closest to her Nana.  She doesn’t say much.  She is  very sullen at times, and I often discount her feelings when it comes to how tragic the loss was to her.  She spent the first five years with her Nana often spending weekends with her, and numerous special moments talking together.  One of the most special things mom did her final months was to go and take that big “Nana and Aubrey” trip.  I know that mom wanted to plan many more of those combining two of her favorite things adventure and grandchildren.  I don’t know if anyone knew how sick she was when she left for that trip last June.  I know I didn’t.  I was oblivious. I found out later that she knew that might be her last opportunity, and there was no way Cancer (or at that time whatever it was) was going to stop her.  You read of those magical moments where a grandfather comes home from the hospital to spend one last Christmas with his family and dies the next day. Or those stories of couples dying within a day of each other because their heart has been broken, and they can’t continue this life without that other person.  It’s one of the rare symmetries in this remarkable life.  Love truly is what makes us different than the animals.  Our capacity to connect with others and build relationships, not out of our appearances, but something much more profound then that is truly the human experience.  My mother believed that love was the most powerful emotion, and could truly alter the course of someone’s life.  She never gave up on that.  I don’t think she ever felt hate towards another person.  Some call that naive.  I call it aspirational.  

2016 was a wrecking ball in my life.  My children and wife look to me for strength and hope.  I look to others like Don, and my sister for the same.  Those relationships have enriched my soul more in the past few months than I could’ve imagined.  This year has been slow to take on a theme.  I search for themes in life, like art. My mother loved stories and books, and passionately craved a great story.  And I am her son in so many ways, but none more than that.  My hope is that this is a year of new beginnings.  Mother’s days is coming up.  I know that last year mom and I were making plans to meet for lunch.  We met in Lexington, Virginia and had lunch that day (See picture to the Left). We brought gifts from the kids, and were entranced by illusions of normalcy given we didn’t know how special that meal would be. That was our last meal together blind to the growing intruder deep inside mom’s body.  My kids ask me all the time about good and evil.  Cancer is evil I now say.  It’s evil in its unbiased malice, and relentless thirst to take life and kill what is loved.  We enjoyed that beautiful spring day.  Mom wasn’t feeling great, and couldn’t walk with us after we ate.  I had no idea why. I think she did, and enjoyed that day in spite of it. We parted ways with hugs.  Then my family went walking the historic downtown area. I would like to go back there this Mother’s day to remember, and reflect.  Even though I am a shameless sentimental, I am also aware that her life is more than a few moments.  Her imprint, and impression is all over the place. In my sisters smile and voice.  In my my truly, and often hopelessly romantic view of the world.  In her sister Pat’s quirky sense of humor.  In Don’s personality, knowing that she had found love again in her life, and that she loved him.  In my daughter Aubrey’s kind and fragile heart.  In my love for good music and great song writing, both the grandiose and stripped down forms, that we both share an affinity for.  In both her children’s love for travel, and seeing and experiencing different cultures and places. My mom is everywhere around me.  This June, or even late May we will welcome her namesake into this world—JoElle McDaniel.  We are still trying to come up with a middle name.  Mom didn’t have one.  So maybe, in a way, we will honor her by doing the same.  

This year has got to be better than last.  I know my mom, would believe that.  I hope that she is happy and feels the love of the many that have shared with me and my sister the influence that she had on them.  It’s funny, to me she is just mom.  But there is nothing more gratifying than hearing stories of the people that she knew outside of my purview.  Like I said, she is mythic to me now.  I wish all the mother’s out there a happy mother’s day.  To everyone else, take the moment in and savor it because you will want to remember these moments when they are gone.  I miss you mom…    

The Last Road Trip

Mom

I lost my mother yesterday.  Cliches and platitudes comfort me no matter what anyone says.  I just don't want to really talk about it.  The redness that stems from my eyes is the only remnant of any effect from the events of yesterday.  I slept for hours yet I'm exhausted.  The noises of the house, and playful giggles in the adjacent rooms pulls me closer to consciousness.  My sister and niece have come here to grieve with my family.  Our kids call her "nana".   My sister and I both have had very different experiences with our mom.   Mom was alway the steady for me.  She was the person I could talk to when life was truly beyond my comprehension.  Even though I seldom did, and regretfully didn't.  She was validation when I was overcome with self doubt.  For my sister she was a best friend.  Someone that connected Mary to what a real mother, woman, and professional was supposed to look like.  Our mom will forever be a part of our lives in spirit, in inspiration, in aspiration, and in what kindness is supposed to look like.  Mind racing, and body exhausted--I finally rolled out of bed.  Sore from the long car rides back and forth to the hospital. 

Warm shower. Freshly brushed teeth. Nothing really makes me feel renewed.  Routine and habit not broken, but life forever different.  I got dressed for the day.  It may not feel cool outside, but I dress for Fall.  

The hall looks like a battlefield from the children playing.  Usually I would be frustrated by this.  Coffee on the pot, and my sister playing quietly with her daughter on the couch.  She is adept in scrolling through the hundreds of kind regards from friends, and family on Facebook.  "Good morning," she said.  I respond likewise.  "Where's Liam and Aubrey," I asked forgetting that this was Tuesday.  My wife hasn't returned from dropping them off.  My wife--- she's amazing.  I may not be the best husband.  In fact, I know that I'm not. So having almost fifteen years with her, and three beautiful children is truly my greatest accomplishment. She deserves some time alone.  The other children in the house are my niece and nephew from her side of the family.  So in whole, we have six children in the house which would be overwhelming if I wasn't already overwhelmed.  My mind doesn't recognize this because my wife has taken on the full brunt of any agitation that I may feel.  She knows that I need time to sort this all out.  I definitely grieve, but have a process.  It is not in my nature to grieve with others, at least initially. These traits come from some aspects of my mother.  Not physically strong, but emotionally disciplined.  I have her to thank for that.

With the house calm, I ask my sister for some personal time to go for a drive.  She understands.  I grab the keys, my wallet, and all other necessities.  I head down to Starbucks to get another coffee.  The weather is truly beautiful.  I know that all people attempt to associate external variables to supernatural variables when moments such as these transpire.  I wont do that here intentionally... (I apologize for the unintentional).  

The drive is nice. The windows down.  The music is appropriate--James Taylor- Greatest Hits.  The restlessness from last night has caught up with me.  I drove to the park and pursued a quiet place.  The shady spot down by the lake will do. I turned my music off and cut the ignition.  Silence.  Then I heard the rhythm of cars going by, slow but consistent.  The birds offered the light sounds of the wood winds.  A symphony of nature put me to sleep.

----

When I woke up I felt excited about the trip that was in front of me.  My car was packed.  I had spent time with my kids and wife eating our favorite lunch at the local pizza joint . Work was behind me for the week.  I drove an hour down I-81 and felt alive.  The music was nostalgic.  Nostalgic for me might not be the classics of the local oldie station.  Classics for me are Pearl Jam, Hootie and Blowfish, and Dave Matthews Band.  Roanoke was getting closer and the trip felt short, almost too short.  When I arrived at my mom's new house, new to her, she was sitting on the porch.  She was ready to go, but busy working through the cross word puzzle that she was making short-work of confidently using a pen where I wouldn't dare stray from a pencil.  She was on her third cup of coffee.  I walked up the path and gave her a kiss on the her thin brown hair.  So smooth and silk like.  "I'm really excited about our trip. I've been waiting for you to take me," she said.  After we both used the bathroom, and put her bag in the car we took off.  

I let her choose the music despite my previous dominion of ambience and entertainment.  She chose the Beatles Greatest Hits.  I was good with that.  First we drove South.  We drove the back roads of South Carolina, and Georgia.  We made few stops along the way.  Mom really wanted to stop at local places. She loved the open air markets where farmers sold fresh produce and vegetables.  We stopped at hole in the wall restaurants that had solid reviews on Yelp.  We made many stops where the view was the only reason. Mom liked the long way.  The path less traveled in the busy and bustling lives of so many people.  

The trip was fast.  We were so excited to be at the beach. Daytona was special to us.  It felt like our family's beach.  The family reunion took place here almost every year despite the long list of other wonderful vacation spots.  The beach had it's quiet moments despite being one of the most famous beaches in the world.  We didn't go this year, and she felt like this was important for us to make this stop on our trip.  Who was I to disagree.

When we arrived her brothers and sister were there to meet us. They carried her bag up the stairs and I carried mine.  We sat down and returned to conversations that were from a year ago but felt like they weren't over.  Grandmother came to the door.  When she joined the party I felt like I wanted to leave her with her siblings for some time alone, although no one said I should.  I imagined they talked about memories of Grandad. All of the great cross country trips. There would probably be some embarrassing stories that come up every year but never get old.  Wine would be passed, and beer for her brothers.  

I returned to laughter.  My sister Mary showed up to surprise mom for the next leg of our trip.  We hugged the rest of the family.  Everyone was there now. Our cousins, and inlaws. All the people that brought her so much joy.  She had always said that she wanted to live closer to her brothers and sisters.  A week is never enough, and neither was the time we had left before we needed to get back on the road. 

We drove north.  We spent many sad trips driving north in our lives.  Driving home from seeing family in Florida.  We pick up every year where we left off, with new cousins, and new scars.  Leaving this time felt unfamiliar in that something was different.  We were unable to put our fingers on it at this time.   Mary and I fought over the music on this portion of the trip.  Mom was the tie-breaker. We landed on Sarah McLachlan.  Despite the feeling that I was on the way to Lilith fair, I enjoyed the music and the company.  Mom reminded us of the theatrics we would engage in about the music, and that she was proud that we've learned to compromise our tastes for what would only echo in our ears in this instance. "Mary's was more like a tantrum," I said jokingly.  Mary was passionate about her music, and very passionate about bad music not tainting her experience.  

When we got to Martinsburg, we were tired.  We found our accommodations nice.  We decided to save money and I would get the one twin-bed, and Mary and Mom would share the other.  We left mom alone for a bit so we could go down to the pull.  Mary and I swam until our hands looked like the bed of a shallow creek after the rain had worn it down.  When we returned to the room mom was reading another book. She was a fervent, and fast reader.  She loved books about life, love, and even the darker and more mysterious parts of life.  I always loved that my mother was so passionate about stories and reading.  Somehow it made me feel smarter.  

The next morning we woke up too late for breakfast at the hotel so we grabbed some on the way.  We drove down to the first house I can remember.  It was a duplex on Maple street. The house still looked the same other than the additional chipped paint on the porch, and the bike leaned up against it.  We pulled up but didn't get out.  "Remember the pictures of you and William with the socks on your hands to dress like the Easter bunny?" Mary asked.  I reminded her that she participated in that picture.  Willam was our next door neighbor, and my best friend.  William's old house looked almost as nice as it did from thirty years ago.  We all smiled.  Mom reminded us of the church around the corner where we first learned of God, and Heaven.  We sat on the porch, we once sat on as children and a mom that was working to put herself through school while being committed to being a good parent.  I personally don't have a lot of memories in this house, but I could tell she did.

We were ready to go to our next house.  Mom rented a larger house on Raleigh Street.  It was a row house on one of the busier streets in Martinsburg.  When we arrived it looked a lot different. The railing around the porch was now gone, and the face of the house was exposed to the side walk and the passers by.  We parked across the street and gazed at the place where we had many fond memories.  Our first dogs, Chip and Twink joined our family here.  We reminisced about the time Mary and I opened up all the Christmas gifts before Mom came downstairs because we mistook a sickly "yes" in place of whatever she said.  She had long forgiven us for this, yet I was emotionally aware enough to know that she was hurt.  We remembered friends that we had made, and the trouble Mary and I got in.  Although a fleeting moment in time, this was when the three of us were all we had, and Mary and I are thankful. Even though our younger selves didn't know how great we had it.  

When we left we decided to visit some other places that we often frequented as youth.  Mom drove this time, and felt compelled to take us to War Memorial Park where she once took us there to see Jesse Jackson campaign for presidency.  We then went to Harper's Ferry, and Anteitam battlefield.  We didn't have time to get out and do much, but we enjoyed the drive over.  Mary started to tear up.  I decided we should pull over at a rest-stop and take a pause.  Mom pulled into the next one. I got out of the car as she was consoling Mary.  I don't know what she said, but it's as if I would never be let in on the secret when I returned.  I'm not sure what was said yet I was okay with that.  Mom and Mary had a special connection that only mothers and daughters have. We left West Virginia and never looked back.  We headed south again toward North Carolina.  My home state.  At least the one that I will always call my home.  

Again we drove through many back roads.  Mom didn't need to ask.  I took us there because I am my mother's son.  I told mom how much I respected her for always being supportive of my father.  They had divorced when we were very young.  So many kids are torn apart by lovelorn parents that have been scarred by a bad marriage.  She allowed me to continue hero worshiping him despite any personal bias.  "You never said a bad thing about dad," I said. As a child I didn't quite understand why they weren't together.  As an adult I know that it just wasn't meant to be.  And sometimes life is like that. Good things can come from just living versus always being on the planned path.  

 She had always told us how important it was that we had a relationship with him.  "You would be hard pressed to think of a time that mom said anything bad about anyone," Mary said.  Mom looked at her and smiled.  The lines on her face were distinct, and when she smiled her face seemed to be at its most natural state.  And the argument, I couldn't prove otherwise...  

We passed through Pine Hall, and Thomasville.  The memories there were very different experiences for all of us.  Some weren't great, but we talked about how throughout it all we were together despite some of the more trying moments in our lives.  Mom wanted to stop by our house on Friendship Ledford Road.  We pulled into one of our old churches. My mom never felt comfortable here despite her unwavering faith. This was no fault of hers, I don't think she ever felt at home in that house nevermind the church.  Her new marriage hadn't panned out the way that she anticipated, and despite her optimism for change it wasn't going to happen. After some silence, Mary reminded us of some of the funny stories from our time there.  I told the story about how I used to play pranks on my stepdad. He would fall asleep late at night on the floor, and I would put random kitchen tools in his hand, and once a jar of pickles.  By the time we woke up in the morning he had put them up.  I always laughed wondering what he thought had happened the night before.   Mom brought up how proud she was of Mary for her achievements in school.  She reminded me of my late night basketball games by the spotlight in the driveway, and that she rarely missed any of my football or basketball games.  She was right.  She was my biggest fan.  No matter how self-involved we were as teenagers, she was that constant.  

We bypassed the Winston Salem portion of that trip, and headed to High Point where Mom bought a townhome.  I didn't live there long because I was in college, but Mary and her had many fond memories. "Remember that time that Pookie (a nickname for our Japanese exchange student-sister) stuck her finger in Cocoa's (our cat) butt?", Mary said.  Mom laughed too.  She could laugh at even the most tasteless of jokes (having three brothers), and the most sophisticated.  "That look of horror on her face was a cross between something sour, and infuriating," mom shared.  We all laughed.  The house looked to be vacated, yet we were able to envision it as if we still lived there.  We let ourselves in.  The small kitchen where mom cooked her red chili, and chicken and dumplings.  The Dining Room which was more of an office area/slash dining area. The sunlit living room where mom would read her books, and watch television late at night while Mary and I were out living our late teenage lives.  I brought my girlfriends there to meet her. She was always so welcoming to anyone that I brought home, even the ones she knew wouldn't last.  We went upstairs and looked at our old rooms. Mom sacrificed the master bedroom to Mary and Mami for a few years, and then to me for the short period I lived there and accumulated a bunch of stuff.  We walked in the master and saw where Mary and Mami had their sleeping areas separated by a book shelf.  The back of the bookshelf was covered in chalk and drawings that Mami had scribbled while laying in her bed.  Mary reminded me of my "acting" when she filmed a student horror film for a class at school. "The only thing that was horrifying was my acting..." I said.  This house was an important pivot for many of us in our lives.  This was where mom declared her independence from her previous marriage, and we started to discover who we were going to be as adults.  The home was small, but the history there was grand.  

Mom bought a small cottage house down the street. It had its own walls, and yard.  It made up in character what it lacked in size. It was perfect for mom, and her cat and dog.  The house wasn't impressive but she was proud of it because it was hers, and she had worked hard to buy her own house.    When we arrived to her little abode on Chestnut street, we pulled in.  No one was living there, and it looked as if there was some construction going on back behind it.  We got out of the car and looked around.  The house needed a paint job, and a new roof.  It was well shaded, and had a fenced back yard.  Mary thought of Remo her sweet dog that mom and her found at a pet fair.  " Remo loved this house," Mary said.  Mom smiled.  "Yeah, and he loved you mom.  Remember how he would protect you and growl at me anytime I was near," I said.  We all stood there.  We took it in. Mom truly is the most humble and un-materialistic person on the planet.  She has more education than most people (two masters degrees), yet nothing of real "value" on the street.  Even her jewelry is just sentimental.  Mom had a whole room full of shelves filled with books. I had no doubt she read them all unlike my shelves at home.  "I really enjoyed going to the book sales at the library," I told mom.  "Me too. That was our thing," she said.  I couldn't keep up with her reading, and I always envied that about her.   She instilled the value of education, and reading in both Mary and me.  The moment was short, but the pause was lengthy.  When we left here we just drove.  No destination, just time passing by.  

Mom broke the silence by making a comment about the size of the last house she lived in NC.  This house was truly small.  She was so proud of herself for selling her old house, and paying off all her debt.  She was preparing for the next stage in her life.  I had always thought that she would move close to Mary, or Aunt Pat.  "It is a small house mom..." Mary said.  I reminded both of them that it wasn't smaller than the dwarf house back in Shepardstown that we used to go and visit from time to time.  I quietly thought about how I was a little embarrassed that Mom lived there.  Yet, she never thought twice about it.  Again she only lived life for her work, her family, and for the quietness of nature.  She never pursued another's favor, or to impress anyone. I looked over at her as she drove us through the late afternoon into the evening.  Although the trip must've been days it was fleeting for all of us.  We soon pulled up to a quiet park in Virginia.  

When we got out of the car we all stretched.  "It all feels so short," Mary said to me.  I just looked at her, not quite clear what the words meant but somehow understanding.  "No matter what.  You and I will always be close right?" I asked her.  She hugged me. We watched Mom walking up to the park where we could hear kids playing.  When we rounded the corner as the playground equipment became more distinct, and the park widened.  Mom walked up to all of her grandkids.  It didn't even register with us why they were here, or who was watching them.  They were all under their best behavior. Even Liam. Then we heard a loud "Mommy" as my wife came out to greet us.  She came up and hugged our mom.  When they broke embrace Jen joined Mary and me.  We sat as mom sat on the stairs talking to Aubrey.  They discussed school, and the trip they had to Lancaster.  Aubrey was quiet, but happy.  Her beauty was understated but profound.  Like the sunset peaking out behind cloud cover just waiting for that moment to shine.  I told Jen, my wife, that "they are so close." "She adores Aubrey," Mary said, somehow realizing that the daughter - mother bond extends to granddaughters. Mom then talked to Liam about video games despite her lack of knowledge about anything he was sharing.  Liam felt loved.  Dylan and Violet were over on the swings.  We pushed them as Mom talked to Liam and Dylan about the importance of school, and being kind to each other.  She was overheard saying "Live close to each other if you can, or at least find away to be close frequently."  

I looked at Mary and said, "Did mom ever say that to us?"  Mary answered, "I know she did.... but we all do it right?"

"What's that," I said.  

"Take family for granted."  She was right. 

She walked up to us and smiled.  We let her push Violet for a while.  Dylan wanted to show her his toys. He had two small action figures that he held onto like the most important possessions in the world.  "Nana, come over my house," he said.  He loved his Nana.  

It was time to go.  Jen was happy to help, but I could tell she wanted to come with us.  The car was only so big, and Nana had a lot of grandkids.  We all kissed our kids, and shared another hug, after hug.  I kissed my wife on the head, and told her "thank you".  I could tell she was sad, yet I didn't quite grasp why.  I would be home later.  

As we got into the car we let mom choose her soundtrack for the last leg of our trip.  We were heading back to Roanoke.  Mom picked songs that reminded her of her childhood.  She told us a few stories about Grandad Ryan and how mad he would get when her brothers and her acted out on the trip.  How to ask to stop before the "planned-stop" was not forgivable. She told us about frogs getting loose in the basement.  She talked about his love for baseball, and how it was like a sixth sibling.  She talked about how touching it was at his funeral where thousands of people had come to say goodbye to Okey Ryan.  They ended the ceremony with "Take me out to the ballgame." Mary and I both love that story. Mom would go to baseball games over the past few years to feel closer to him.  The sun was starting to set behind the mountains.  We could see the Roanoke star illuminate a little early.  "I've taken Aubrey, and Violet up there," she said, speaking about the star.  I had never been up there, so I knew that was a stop that I had to take in the near future and that it would forever be important to me and them. When we got to Vinton, we were all tired.  We all went around and shared what was the best part of the trip.  

"I liked the sight seeing." I said.  I always enjoyed history and being in the shadows of defining moments in humanity.  "I loved the memories we had being exposed to all of these great landmarks, and that they are forever connected to me and our family, and our road trips."  

Mary said, "I enjoyed the stories. We had so many great stories. It feels like we could continue this trip and still have more stories to share that we didn't even talk about.  Endless stories..."  We all nodded, and thought that it would be nice. I could see tears forming in Mary's eye.  Mom was stoic, and happy.

We both looked at mom.  Waiting for her to answer.  She smiled. 

"Everything".

When we opened the door her husband was standing there. She was so happy to see him.  We were too.  Although he arrived late in the journey, it felt as if he had been here all along. He grabbed her bag from the trunk.  He took her hand and walked back to their house.  The sun was all but gone.  Dim, and orange.  We waved goodbye, and happy that she had found true love after a few tries at just love. 

Mary and I left, and headed back home. That part of the journey I don't remember.  I just know that we had to get back to our homes, and  that mom was where she wanted to be.  

----

I awoke knowing that was just a nap.   Disappointed but thankful to have had that trip.  Even though it wasn't real, it felt real.  We had so many trips in our lives.  I don't know if we drove because it was cheap, or if we just liked driving.  I know now that I liked the latter. What soon became apparent is that I needed to get home myself.  I had some sweat on my brow from the nap and my phone had a few messages on it.  Messages from friends reminding me that what I woke up to is real, and there's no going back.  

I cooked out for the family plus Mary and Violet.  The kids played.  We talked about arrangements, and plans.  We had to be discreet because none of the kids knew.  I had planned to tell the older ones after dinner when things had calmed down.  

When I told Aubrey I took her out to the porch swing.  One that she and Nana had once sat on.  I often think about that.  We go through life making memories while failing to recognize the poignance of the moment.  Aubrey was already crying from some other provocation from her brother.  I just let her cry.  Moments like these are often rushed.  I asked her what was bothering her.  She shared that she has all this responsibility since I haven't been home.  "I'm not able to ride my bike. I can't go to my friends house. Mom needs me to help with the babies." I could tell she was taking on a lot of responsibility.  The part where I lost some control of my emotions was when she said she hadn't had a good day since Nana got sick, and that she wanted to spend more time with me.  I agreed to find more time, and that her and I would have a special day.  When I told her that Nana had gone to heaven she really lost it.  It's hard to imagine how a kid will take something of this gravity.  Kids are supposed to learn about death from a pet.  Tragically cancer has robbed many young children of their grandparents, and parents.  I sat there and held my beautiful daughter as she shook, and hugged me tight.  This was the closest i had ever felt to her.  That spark of connection that her and I are forever connected by blood.  The blood of my beautiful, kind, and wonderful mother.  We sat our their for awhile watching the sun go down.  I told her, unsure of myself, that Nana will always be watching over her, and her brothers. I told her how proud she was of Aubrey.  I do know that to be as true as anything that ever was said.  That love was undeniable.  

Once I had gotten Aubrey to agree to keeping this a secret--at least--until we had a chance to tell the other kids.  I walked up the stairs to read a story to Liam.  He was already lying on the bed ready for me.  He was really tired, so he was not very patient.  I was glad that I had gotten the difficult one out of the way.  What I soon realized was that I couldn't have been more wrong.  When I told Liam the tears were quick, and the sobs were loud.  He always said such sweet, and age-appropriately selfish things like "I want to go on a trip with Nana like Aubrey did".  This time he was just sad that he would never get to see his Nana again, and that the trip was definitely out of the question. The sobs shook him, and shook me along with it.  His mom heard him crying and she came into the room.  This was the first time I really saw her breakdown.  She held the both of us, and we all cried.  

----

This is undoubtedly the hardest thing I've ever gone through.  I took her for granted.  We all did.  Life is so fragile.  There's people on this earth that make you wonder how they got as far as they have yet they get to do it again the next day, and the next.  Mom was a quiet, unassuming person.  She was also the most kind, caring, and unwavering of an optimist that ever graced the earth with her breath.  She loved without expectation. She gave her time, resources, and love to everyone that she came into contact with.  My mom was a great educator.  She was a pure Christian.  One that wasn't adorned with the self-hate and loathing of so many that feel that shame for their hypocrisy.  She was a great mother. One that raised her kids to be unabashedly imperfect, but try to be the best that we can be.  She didn't allow me to quit anything as a kid, yet when I did--she accepted it.  I will always love you, and I am forever grateful.  I hope to see you again someday when my duty is done.  Until then, rest quietly and send me a sign from time to time.  I know you're somewhere out there.  

Christmas Eve is where it's at

Christmas Eve is where it's at.  Christmas Day is Sunday to me.  It's the day when all is hopeful, and Christmas is still in front of us.  It's here but not over.  So close, but not far away.  People are full of cheer. Judgement is cast aside to be dealt another day that we all hope might never come.  It's the end of both a great year, and even a year that was a let down.  Or it can be the beginning of the year that brings change and new dreams for everyone. Friends both close and far away connect, and come together.  Family forgets the sadness, and old disagreements are assuaged in lieu of the pleasant memories.  They are the fruition of the season building to that fateful night before-- when the magic of Christmas overwhelms all of us.

The day of Christmas is often a let down.  We aren't able to do the things we might have planned.  Sometimes we don't get to see all the people that we had hoped to see.  We eat too damn much.  And when it's over we are exhausted and know that just on the horizon we have the worst day of the year.  The day we put Christmas away for another year.  

I know this isn't a guarantee, and not everyone's experience.  I can testify to the consistency in it's occurrence in my life. I don't know when this happened. I can remember as a kid getting the chance to select one gift from under the tree to open.  My sister and I were pretty good at guessing what was in the packages through our thorough inspection and interrogation of mom.  I can remember that being a tradition well before I had a family of my own, and carried it on.  I don't know if this is the reasons why... Or is it because when I was the recipient of all the gifts, and not "responsible" for providing it I'm sure Christmas was the best part. As the facilitator of the festivities, and one that has to go back to work the next day it is a fleeting moment...Christmas. The joy of childhood, and the debilitating anticipation of what's to come is a feeling that I don't know if I can ever feel again. I am able to feel some of that with my children, but it's not and never will be the same.  

A life in retail has to be an influence.  I've spent years corralling the curmudgeons and schmoozing the scrooges in stores up to the last minute of many a holiday season.  Despite spending over a decade in stores working more and more hours, and getting less and less of a holiday-- I still maintained my affinity for Christmas.  A testament to the power of a holiday that Capitalism has attempted to squeeze out every penny, and still it endures.  But no that's not it.  

It's something special.  Something the music, the films, the stories have gallantly attempted to capture and still can't truly permeate our weary hearts and soulless society.  It's in the loves of our lives, the laughter of our daugthers, and the wideness of our sons eyes.  It's in catching our children looking out the window in the hopes of seeing what we all hope and believe to be true despite the naysayers.  It's the magic of Father Christmas, the nativity, and the tradition.  

So for me, it's the Night Before Christmas.  The day when I feel love and feel the love of friends here, and long gone.  I can see the memories of Christmas past cycling through my mind like a old, rusty projector winding in stereo as I see the images of my Christmases go through my mind.  I wonder about the people that I haven't spoke to that have impacted me one way or another in my life, and I wish them a Merry Christmas in silent prayer.  The music is just right, the holiday movies are welcome, and the eggnog is never too sweet..  I wish everyone a very Happy Christmas Eve, and a blessed holiday.  Forgive and forget.  Let's heal the wounds and celebrate the ties that bind us.  Merry Christmas.

The Perfect Days

The time spent with your children is maddening yet fleeting.  Every morning you're awaken by a kid that is different then the one you put to bed.  Sometimes the change goes unnoticed and others can be more significant like a new word or their head overcomes the height of the bed. Every word or word-like thing they say changes, and fades away in the clutter of routine.  All you have are the pictures on your iphone, or what's scrolling across your screensaver to offer a distant memory of these perfect days.  The days when you had it all and didn't even know you were basking in the warm glow of perfection achieved. 

The last few months for me have been very special.  I've never been so tired, and happy at the same time.  As a father you try so hard to keep your kids happy and entertained, while simultaneously teaching them some profound lesson about life.  You don't want them to grow up ill-equipped to handle the perils of adult heartbreak, failure, and overwhelming cynicism. I've spent more time than most fathers are afforded at this point in my life.  We've worn out the Chicfila playground, the Waynesboro playground, GypsyHill Park playground--then we've ventured out of the city to the Bounce-House in Charlottesville and on to the next adventure all in the hopes of expending that limitless energy with the feint hope of a moment to shut your eyes and take a breath.  (If we could only harness this energy we could power the world for the cost of a juice box.) As all of you with children know, that energy is theirs and only theirs, and it's exhausting. 

This year I've spent mornings getting them ready, pulling together a breakfast--usually cereal or a cereal bar and fruit. Then I rush Aubrey to school.  Liam and I then sojourn to the house or run some type of errand.  The morning is usually full of Skylander Giants, or Batman.  Then the questions that he asks, that have no answer that suits his infinite imagination. I then usually try to get him to take a nap, and try in the most futile sense of the word.  We usually grab some type of lunch from the house.  In the afternoon I try to preoccupy him as much as I can so I can get some things done around the house.  After all of that failure, I go and pick up my darling at school.  This is one of the most precious memories I will try to hold on.  The dropping off, and picking up of Aubrey is truly a memory worth fighting for.  She saunters to the door, and ever so gracefully adorable she looks back at the car, and waves and smiles.  When I pick her up she is so excited to see me.  She tells the teacher that I'm her daddy, and points with such happiness on her face.  It's hard to tell where the smile starts, you would assume the face, but I can feel it from inside.  

My children have reinvented me, once the engineer of my next great distraction to the purveyor of their laugh, and the passenger on their next flight from the mundane. I would be lying if I said that every moment was this warm glowing image of happiness and laughter, but that's part of the journey of parenthood. Sometimes it's raising your voice and the surfacing of your parental ire so often for the most insignificant of infractions.  I imagine that my transgressions as a parent, to this day, are quite common and in fact--expected.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      And I think we all have to come to terms with that.

As I imagine the kind of kid, I can't help but think of the life that is in front of Aubrey and Liam.  Will they have the friends that I've had? Will they have some of the same crippling fears, and passionate beliefs? I know that my parents were not perfect, and yet they were.  Both in their own ways.  Because being a great parent isn't about being perfect, it's about the mistakes and the growth where we are weak or remiss in the moment.  When it's all said and done, the lessons learned are both profound and sometime unemphatic.  For the children, as well as the parents these moments are precious.  

I can't be more blessed.  I hope to bestow them the same blessings as they reflect back on this time that we've had together.  As we all know-- we never get this time back.  

Where do we go from here America?

Amid all the tragedy this week the sun still rises for most of us.
The empathetic soul of America is stronger than its ever been.
Everyone wants to weigh in. Some with a more humble spirit,
and heavy heart. Others not so much... Instead of taking political
potshots at the less sophisticated thinkers of the world. Let's share the numerous stories of profound sacrifice and heroism.

It has become fashionable to dwell, and commiserate with each other
versus lift each other up. I'm so tired of hearing how bad
the economy is, and how bleak our future is and will be. What I would like to hear is some form of optimism, however, depending on where it's coming from only a few will see it as hope versus spin.

Only in these moments of national mourning, and ground swell of
patriotism do we somehow come together. It's not
even a hopefullness that arises, it's more of a gathering of hands.
This unity is something that shouldn't need a harrowing catalyst.
We are the same cast of principle characters. We have to stop
doubting the intentions of our neighbors, and assuming the worst
case scenario for every new idea.

There are some Americans that want some version of our nations history that is not possible, and we can't repeat. On the contrary, some are drawn to that connection and community that is enabled by our smartphones and computers to share everything, but still pine for those days of simple solitude of 50's America. We want it both ways.

There's the other side of America that wants more, and isn't
satisfied with accepting the way our Grandparents believed and
accepted. No offense to their elders but they want more freedom,
when it comes to what they do with their lives, their bodies, and
their privates. It's this divergence of ideas that are very
similar in theme but different in content.

This nation needs to reflect on these days of tragedy, and in
earnest, break from this habitual hatred for what we proclaim
to be so proud of --our democracy. As a nation of immigrants,
with different values and faiths, we are proud of this diveristy
on one hand and angrly opposed to the very thing that made us
great. A nation of pioneers, and pilgrims, and yes... the darker side of our history slaves and conquerors. From these individuals we have grown into the most powerful country in the world. Yet we can't
accept the fact that our lives are all valuable, and worthy of the
American dream. It's only in the chaos of imagery we now
see 24 hours a day, and exploited and bastardized on
Facebook like some elaborate game of telephone that we set aside our differences and judgement.

Is it now American that tragedy is the only thing that brings us
together? We should stand up for each other now, and accept
that the very qualities that make us different are also what
makes our idealism stronger. A constitution that allows us
guns centuries ago, doesn't necessarily allow us the most
technologically advanced weaponry available. Yes, I get it
the government makes you uncomfortable with all that
"power". Did it make you uncomfortable when it got the
right to tap all of our computers and telephones? Are we
so accepting of the idea that freedom is somehow an absolute
that can't be discussed in our great democracy? Immigration
we've accepted as a problem with the only way to fix it is
to deny the very same way our families once arrived on this
land centuries ago? Is it beyond our capacity as Americans
to discuss these very polarizing differences without assuming that because they are different, they are evil. It's not our freedom, it's the fact that we don't just fall in line. We are adaptable, and we can compromise. That's what's hard to figure out. The countries that don't have this capability, or freedom --hate us because of our capacity to work together even though we don't all have the same faith, and creed. That's American.

I'm so tired of the hate, and shame that comes from being in
dissent of the majority. This passive-aggresive bullying
that occurs in so many families, and social circles where
brother and sister talk down to each other, and belittle the
so-called "ignorance" of their family member because they
read a blog, or a chain-mail, or Uncle Rush told them so.
That is not American, no matter how loud they say it or
how much they cover themselves in Red, White, and Blue.
That is not patriotism, that's fanatacism not unlike having
your dog, car, and house decorated in your favorite team's
colors and logos.

Let's learn from these moments where American's rich and
poor, democrat and republican, and christian and
non-believers reach out for each others hands, and help each
other up from the blood and ash. I love this country, but I
can say without a doubt that we aren't perfect, and we never
have been. But we all will come together and fight for it
when the time comes. We all get that rush of blood up our
neck when we hear the national anthem, or our president say
"You're with us, or your against us." We are at the tipping
point, let's push through not fall. There's too much at stake. God bless America. God bless Boston.

Let's Move Forward

American politics is as volatile as the gladiatorial games of the great coliseum. It’s dirty, and all that matters is who’s standing when it’s all said and done. When the word politics is used in a business setting, or organizational setting it is never used in a positive light. Where we are now, and where we’ve come from are so far apart that the only way to heal our politics is to reject it. That’s what so many Americans have done. They’ve refused to participate. I can’t blame them. We can shame them for their dissidence. We can laugh at their supposed ignorance. At least it’s honest.


I’ve spent most of my life subscribing to this philosophy. Mainly due to the lack of honesty in political discourse. It has taken a court room element--and made it worse. It has become a tribal council of sorts. The whole purpose of the opposition is to discredit their adversary. Remove their credibility, disavow their citizenship or faith, and question their humanity. This has been called “Rovian strategy” after George W Bush’s campaign manager and advisor slandered his Republican opponent John McCain in the 2000 primaries for being gay, cheating on his wife, and the race of his adopted daughter. Ad hominem politics can’t all be hung around Rove’s neck. The truth of the matter is that this type of politics has been around since the dawn of representative government. Albeit, it is more of a blood-sport today than ever before but not new. The problem is that the opponent has been so slandered that their point-of-view doesn’t matter. The content of the conversation is not longer about what’s right, it’s about who’s wrong.

Over the last decade I’ve become more politically active, and more curious than the average citizen. Most individuals take their cues from their supposed trusted news source. Most likely because a family member, or trusted friend recommended either Fox or CNN. What I’ve always tried to find is the integrity of a news story. I went to college to study journalism, and learned the many tactics of what is called tabloid journalism. The techniques used by these entertainment driven stories are the very same used by reputable news organizations with a slant to the left or right. Unfortunately we can’t put absolute faith in these once honorable organizations because of their financial obligations to companies, and organizations that fund them. Ratings drive higher ad-buys and drive more revenue. A government run news agency would defeat the purpose of journalism because the original “muckrackers” were borne out of the need to hold our government officials accountable. In this day and age, government trust is at an all time low thus rendering any organization funded by the government as corrupted. For instance, the way the right have characterized PBS. PBS was created with the purpose of providing educational programs for families and children where cable wasn’t available or affordable. Far from being the news wing of the communist party. But if all of this is true, where can one go to find honest news. The internet right…

So my quest to find a truthful news source may very well be futile. This problem is particularly pernicious to American Democracy because editorial news is now the preferred method of receiving news. We find comfort in one particular news organization, or news personality. Then we want them to decode and help us understand the news because for us to actually spend more than a few minutes trying to get all the facts and see both sides requires more effort than we are willing to surrender. We want our news in Facebook posts, and Tweets. Simple and already endorsed by our favorite news personalities. This helps us to sound informed and feel empowered.

When these pre-fabricated opinions are confronted by contention or reality for that matter, we shut down. Our most primitive parts of our brains override rationality, and we demonize the others opinion. We corrupt religion, and hijack patriotism as the deciding factor in the conversation or lack there of. To agree with the other side is treason. And the truth of the matter is the rare stowaway lost in the confusion.

This election will come down to the votes of the more energized base. Unlike elections of the past, where the holy grail of winning has always been with the “undecideds”. American politics has been poisoned. For me to come out and say that I support the president’s reelection would open the eyes of many of my family members, and friends. Most people that have asked I would have the conversation with them and share my reasoning. If you’ve read my previous posts over the years you know where I stand. I just refuse to argue with people that will take it personally. They’ve already given up on truth, and respecting the process of dialogue. If I may be so bold to predict that because of the state of American politics the comments of New Jersey’s Republican Governor Christ Christie will come under fire by Fox News and their lot. He is on record today as praising President Obama’s handling of the preparation, and aftermath of Hurricane Sandy. No doubt he will be derided and scorned by his most embedded members of his party as being off message, and needing to walk the party line. This is the way of things, and if we allow it the future of democracy. It’s one way or the other, it’s never the best way. Compromise will become as dirty a word as politics. Unification is seen as treason.

This election comes down to two ways of thinking. Both parties will claim the other is using a lie, or loose facts to support their philosophy. In a way, both parties are right. Here’s what I know. Mitt Romney supports the most polarizing views of social and cultural politics, but is on record as being against all of them at some point. He claims to be this business mastermind but based off of the statistics of when he ran Massachusetts he was far from it. His states successes were built on policies that were in place before he was governor. He raised taxes, and fees on his constituents and added to debt penalizing schools. His crowning achievement is the very DNA of what Obama’s crowning achievement is predicated on. His running mate is firmly behind a slash and burn form of budget cutting that will fundamentally change the way we live in this country, and further creating the sea between the middle class and upper class. I also fear that behind the bluster and posturing of Mitt’s foreign policy we will find ourselves in a more dangerous America and world. He can talk all he wants about we are weaker, and perceived as weaker now than we were four years ago. That is a pure partisan lie. In 2008 when the US’s economy was on the brink we were at our weakest. Al-Qaida’s stated strategy was to watch our economy crumble. I believe if you really distill the facts from the opinions the decision becomes a lot more clear.

President Obama inherited an economic disaster. Think about what was being said during the 2008 election . What would McCain had done that was so different? The bail-outs and rescues were already in place before he took office. The stimulus wasn’t as effective as he had stated, but do we know what would have happened if it was not put in place? Are we so sure that a bankrupt American car industry would have been better for our economy, and for the jobs reports? We hear one side speak in such absolutes and certitudes, but do we really give each issue the thought that what would McCain and Palin have done? It’s easy to sit back and play Monday Morning Quarterback. I know that President Bush was treated the same way by the left on many occasions, and just as distastefully. But when is enough going to be enough? Will it be when the Kenyan is out of office? Or will it be now? Lets move Forward. Not back to the Wild West economy of the Bush Years.

Unemployment is down from double digits to lower than it was when he took office. The free fall of jobs lost (800k a month) is now 30 plus months of job growth. Consumer confidence is climbing, and holding steady. The Stock Market has come roaring back and has nearly doubled. None of this matters. Because in the end you will believe what your prefabricated opinion tells you to believe. I ask you to consider this, because this is how I remember it.

I worked retail in 2008, and still do for that matter. I remember the dread of conference calls where they were announcing layoffs, and cut backs. I remember reading in the news of the imminent downfall of Linen’s ‘n Things, Borders, and Circuit City. I remember the news stated that the banks, and creditors pulled the rug out under the funding to keep these businesses running. I also remember it being Black Friday, and not having anyone in line. These were scary times. Be fair in your assessment. Are we better off than we were four years ago? If you say no you are being dishonest. Get out and vote!

http://www.barackobama.com/economy