I thought that we gave up leeching, bloodletting and purging long ago but alas no, homeopathy is marching on. In fact, homeopathy is one of the longest running pseudo sciences in the modern world. What makes it so? One reason is lack of understanding about what homeopathy really is, even among health care providers. You see, homeopathy was invented by Samuel Hahnemann in the late 1700s, a fact that most following the doctrine of better health through homeopathy don’t even know. Go ahead, ask a follower of homeopathy. I dare you. Homeopathy is based on the now outdated principle that “like cures like”. For instance, if coffee keeps you awake, then highly diluted coffee will put you to sleep. In this case, the more diluted the coffee, the better you will sleep. To figure out what remedy works for what symptoms, you look up your symptoms in a book (yes, you had to know there would be a book didn’t you?) listing all the different proving results and take the remedy that best matches what ails you. While there is more to it than this we won’t get into it. Trust me; it doesn’t get any more credible. Water memory? Seriously?
Homeopathy is about as silly as it gets people. Silly wouldn’t even matter if it indeed worked, but it doesn’t. There are over 4000 homeopathic remedies, none of which work. You may think it works because you get placebo effects and the homeopath keeps you entertained while you get better on your own. In homeopathy, any substance can be a remedy; even a non-substance. My personal favorite is “eclipsed moonlight.” I’m serious. Look it up. I’ve been trying to figure out how they collect it to prepare the remedy, but no one’s talking. Despite science and reason, it looks as though homeopathy isn’t about to go away anytime soon. But it has some really good things going for it. Typically when you visit a homeopath, he wants to know all about you. He gives you far more time and attention than your traditional MD will. He picks a special treatment designed JUST for you and if it’s not working? He has an explanation and something else to try next time; ever confident that he can help you get better. Aside from the fact that homeopathy is for the large part a bogus industry that offers little more than the separation of fools….I mean, patients from their money; it is harmless. Except in those cases where patients are persuaded or believe they should forego effective and proven medical treatment or harm themselves with the often overuse of non-regulated supplements and/or vitamins. (Don’t get me started on supplements) The fact is; not one single so-called homeopathic cure is scientifically proven to be valid. They would love to find scientific validation and not the kind where if you say something totally false often enough, someone may start to believe it, but the genuine variety. It becomes increasingly difficult to receive any kind of acknowledgement from the scientific community when they conveniently reject science whenever it doesn’t support them. Their repeated excuse is that the remedies are individualized so they don’t lend themselves to normal controlled trials and often cannot be duplicated with consistent or expected results. Nonsense. Arguments like these just serve to highlight the intellectual bankruptcy of the homeopathic belief system.
Now that we’ve mentioned supplements, despite all of the research and findings that contradict the benefits of taking supplements and vitamins as a disease prevention or cure, people are taking them more than ever. Often they are misusing or overdosing. “If they are good for us, then more must be better right?” Therein lays the hypocrisy of the naturalist or homeopath. On the one hand, vitamins themselves were discovered by medical and biological science, they play a vital role (by definition) in the healthy functioning of our bodies (when extracted from food), and deficiencies of vitamins can cause disease. So they seem perfectly legitimate. On the other hand the market is full of exaggerated and even magical claims about the cure-all power of vitamins. This has spurned a multi-billion dollar industry. However, the scientific studies that have been conducted showing the benefits of vitamins have all been studies that have shown the benefits from the foods we eat and NOT supplements used in place of food. Naturalists and Homeopaths by definition are against or opposed to what is “man-made”. Where in nature can you find a 1000 mg vitamin C in an orange? Do you know how many oranges you would have to eat to get that much vitamin C? Is that natural? And it isn’t even possible to eat enough foods naturally to get the most commonly sold supplement dosage of 100 mg of Niacin. Do you know what does occur naturally? Penicillin; commonly found in antibiotics. Pretty much everything that “man” makes is made from the ingredients that “nature” gives us. We cannot just “will” anything into existence. Fire also occurs in nature but does anyone really think our early ancestors just waited around for lightning to strike so they could cook a meal?
There is a lesson on human nature here. Our old friend and nemesis, cognitive dissonance, “don’t bother me with the facts.” Despite having the knowledge of ineffectiveness, people will still take supplements; billions of dollars worth annually. Perhaps they get something psychologically out of taking them. Again, there is that very real placebo effect. Or, more likely, the results reflect more the effects of successful advertising, propaganda and fear mongering than the actual benefits of the supplements themselves. The money they spend every month on this expensive urine would serve them better if they perhaps saw a therapist instead.
In 1994, Congress enacted the Dietary Supplement Health and Education Act (DSHEA). This act allows for the marketing and sales of “dietary supplements” with little or no regulation by the FDA. Basically this means, “sell whatever you want, just don’t let us catch you.” And while manufacturers are not allowed to make claims that are not truthful or are misleading, I dare you to Google ANY manufacturer’s product and you will find, more often than not, supplements being marketed as having “real” effects of curing or preventing diseases. While you are at it, look up “eclipsed moonlight”. What is more frightening than this inexcusable lack of oversight is that many of the products marketed aren’t just vitamins and such, but products that claim to do the same things as real medicines. How are they getting away with this? Simple. If you ask me, this is dangerous and costly to consumers. It merely provides protection for business entities whose apparent purpose is to promote quackery for profit. Shame! And profit they do. I personally know more than a handful of people that spend at least $300 to $400 or more EVERY month on supplements alone.
A favorite author of mine, Terry Goodkind wrote, "People are stupid; given proper motivation, and almost anyone will believe almost anything. Because people are stupid, they will believe a lie because they want to believe its true, or because they’re afraid it might be true. Peoples’ heads are full of knowledge, facts and beliefs, and most of it is false, yet they think it all true. People are stupid; they can only rarely tell the difference between a lie and the truth, and yet they are confident they can, and so are all the easier to fool." (Terry Goodkind, Wizards First Rule) The irony is that this came from a fantasy writer in a book about wizards and magic but it still has more truth and credibility than any of homeopathy’s claims. Look around in this day and age, at the things people believe in. Look at these people who believe if they fly jet airliners into tall buildings, they'll get 72 virgins in another life. That's pretty stupid. And it's not just a couple of guys who believe this – it is millions of people who believe this! But this is for another blog entirely. There are vast numbers of people who can be talked into the most ludicrous things. The "rediscovery" of these Dark Ages remedies, we now call "natural medicine" or "natural healing" is for the most part, a bunch of quackery. In drug stores you see real medicines that scientific research has brought to better people's lives being supplanted or pushed aside by folk remedies that in many cases do more harm than good! Aren’t we yet again trading one extreme for another? Hippocrates said there was a law of similar. Hippocrates also said ALL illness was due to an imbalance of the four humors. Today, lots of people believe in homeopathy. Lots of people believe in ghosts and angels, but that doesn’t make them real. At one time, lots of people believed the earth was flat as well. It should come as no surprise that homeopathy’s most influential players and supporters are the ones that stand to gain the most by its wide acceptance. Come on, follow the money folks.
Snake oil salesmen perfected the art of separating fools from their money. They too, would hawk their wares with unscientific and outright fraudulent claims about the health benefits of their product(s) as well as the hidden dangers. Bogus or unsupported nutrition claims are now big business. From the immune boosting and weight loss powers of the acai berry, to the cancer protective effects of vitamins, nutrition supplement and homeopathy pseudo sciences are all the rage. While raw, unpasteurized milk will never have quite the celebrity status of a “super food”, it is promoted with the same lofty yet empty claims, and provides the added bonus of infectious diarrhea and disease. I will spare you the baloney about milk causing mucus and the subject of lactose intolerance....for now. :)
Fanaticism in ANY form is not healthy; be it religion, politics, economics or health. I am a believer in a healthy diet based in good nutrition and moderate exercise, but don’t you think we are taking things just a little too far? What has happened to common sense, moderation and reason? Have we learned nothing?
"You cannot reason people out of positions they didn’t reason themselves into."
Ben Goldacre, MD
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Friday, June 5, 2009
Top Ten (an ongoing series of purposeless lists)
Top Ten Things Men Know About Women
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10. They have boobs
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10. They have boobs
Rabble, rabble, rabble...
I was watching a science program that set out to scientifically explain some of the miraculous events depicted in the Bible. You know what? They did. Or did they? I guess that all depends on what you believe and not so much what happened. Can a society thrive without religion? The Bible DOES indeed hold some scientific assertions. Has religion done more harm than good? There has certainly been enough killing done in the name of whatever God. There may not be 70 virgins waiting for the average Christian for a glorious death but the Crusades certainly didn't teach us anything either. And when speaking of miracles and visions keep this in mind; schizophrenics hear voices and see visions too. Take for example all the sightings and reports of UFO's. You would think someone would have clear, concrete, irrefutable evidence of aliens or UFO's by now. You tube?
How can anyone say that their religion is better than another? Before you label me as a heretic, agnostic or even atheist or question my faith, you may want to take a closer look at your own. This isn't about anyone. It's about everyone. Have you noticed that pretty much everyone sets their own guidelines and practices within the rule set of their own faith? I try to keep an open mind and a tolerant heart. Faith is such a wonderful thing. Blind faith is such a dangerous thing. To close off your mind to other ideas or input is to live in darkness. We are equally benighted to deny someone else their history because it does not fit with our beliefs. And the main ingredient of enlightenment is you guessed it; light. Would God not want you to seek knowledge? It seems it should be expected to search our souls and spirituality for answers as well as to learn from history. You know, the funny thing about history is? You guessed it. You weren't there and neither was I. However, what I find amazing is…… the people were. Whether Jesus walked on water or Moses parted the red sea or not, the fact is: these people not only existed but their deeds were documented. These events may or may not have been embellished but they must have done something to be written about. Perhaps that's it. Maybe it was that simple. Their deeds may be more symbolic representations rather than actual occurrences. Think about how comforting that would be. In any case whatever they did it was worthy enough to be written about. Every time something is out of our hands doesn't necessarily mean it's in Gods. Keep an open mind. Who knows, in the end the universe may be indifferent to our beliefs.
Where do I stand? Our history will always be a part of us. Learning from our past can only help to serve our future. However, don't you think it's about time we worried less about the deeds of others, be that of historical or biblical figures and concentrated more on our own deeds?
That's just my opinion. But then again, I DID get kicked out of church school. In short? Whether I believe or not, I believe we should let others believe.....
or not.
I'd really like to hear your opinion.
How can anyone say that their religion is better than another? Before you label me as a heretic, agnostic or even atheist or question my faith, you may want to take a closer look at your own. This isn't about anyone. It's about everyone. Have you noticed that pretty much everyone sets their own guidelines and practices within the rule set of their own faith? I try to keep an open mind and a tolerant heart. Faith is such a wonderful thing. Blind faith is such a dangerous thing. To close off your mind to other ideas or input is to live in darkness. We are equally benighted to deny someone else their history because it does not fit with our beliefs. And the main ingredient of enlightenment is you guessed it; light. Would God not want you to seek knowledge? It seems it should be expected to search our souls and spirituality for answers as well as to learn from history. You know, the funny thing about history is? You guessed it. You weren't there and neither was I. However, what I find amazing is…… the people were. Whether Jesus walked on water or Moses parted the red sea or not, the fact is: these people not only existed but their deeds were documented. These events may or may not have been embellished but they must have done something to be written about. Perhaps that's it. Maybe it was that simple. Their deeds may be more symbolic representations rather than actual occurrences. Think about how comforting that would be. In any case whatever they did it was worthy enough to be written about. Every time something is out of our hands doesn't necessarily mean it's in Gods. Keep an open mind. Who knows, in the end the universe may be indifferent to our beliefs.
Where do I stand? Our history will always be a part of us. Learning from our past can only help to serve our future. However, don't you think it's about time we worried less about the deeds of others, be that of historical or biblical figures and concentrated more on our own deeds?
That's just my opinion. But then again, I DID get kicked out of church school. In short? Whether I believe or not, I believe we should let others believe.....
or not.
I'd really like to hear your opinion.
Convince me.
Values are areas of our lives we have established as a result of real or imagined experiences. People generally feel a very strong emotional commitment to their values and values usually come into play when judging behavior in others, ourselves or our society. There are times when our own personal values may clash with the values and morals of others or the social values of the society in which we live. One such would be religion but we have already discussed that. What I learned from that is that people seem pretty rigged about their values and beliefs.
Values and morals are usually learned from others such as a parent or teacher. How many of us can remember hearing our parents or other adults say it was not ok to engage in sex before marriage? Many times the lessons were silent and we learned by watching the behavior of others. However, we still at times deviate from these learned values. Why do we do this? Where did we learn this from? When do we decide to make up our own minds and pick our OWN favorite football team? That is another topic entirely. While we are free to learn for ourselves we also come pre-programmed as a result of our up-bringing with a lot of our beliefs; be that of religion, philosophical or our sense of right and wrong. It would stand to reason that emotions such as remorse or guilt are learned responses or are they taught?
How many of us have disagreed with our parents beliefs on something only to find our lives not so dissimilar after all? It's pretty obvious that you can ask any number of questions on any subject and you will get such wide and varied responses. The question is: is it any wonder? I was once condemned for saying, "The truth is only what you convince others to believe." If we are to disagree on whatever; the existence of God, or the creation of the universe, pepsi or coke, then of course there can only be one truth and that truth is mine…… or yours…. if you can convince me ;)
Someone has to be right.
Values and morals are usually learned from others such as a parent or teacher. How many of us can remember hearing our parents or other adults say it was not ok to engage in sex before marriage? Many times the lessons were silent and we learned by watching the behavior of others. However, we still at times deviate from these learned values. Why do we do this? Where did we learn this from? When do we decide to make up our own minds and pick our OWN favorite football team? That is another topic entirely. While we are free to learn for ourselves we also come pre-programmed as a result of our up-bringing with a lot of our beliefs; be that of religion, philosophical or our sense of right and wrong. It would stand to reason that emotions such as remorse or guilt are learned responses or are they taught?
How many of us have disagreed with our parents beliefs on something only to find our lives not so dissimilar after all? It's pretty obvious that you can ask any number of questions on any subject and you will get such wide and varied responses. The question is: is it any wonder? I was once condemned for saying, "The truth is only what you convince others to believe." If we are to disagree on whatever; the existence of God, or the creation of the universe, pepsi or coke, then of course there can only be one truth and that truth is mine…… or yours…. if you can convince me ;)
Someone has to be right.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Diversity and Perversion = Diversion?
As a child, if I commented that someone in the store or another kid at school was weird or looked different my mother would always return the same response: "It would be a dull world indeed if everybody were the same now wouldn't it?"
Fast forward about 30 years. I'd like to think I'm very tolerant of the many differences in the people around me today. In fact, I admire these differences.
While it's true that common interests may attract us initially, it's the differences that stimulate us and turn us on. "Same" is stale and boring and rarely sexy. "Different" gets us laid. I believe it was Darwin's theory that said diversity is fundamental to our evolution. If you ask me, it is fundamental to procreation.
On that thought; we've all heard the expressions, "I'm an ass man" or " I'm a boobs or legs guy". Well, why? How did that happen? From the very subtle to the extreme fetish or perversion. Why does what turns us on, turn us on? I would like to someday conduct some research into this myself. I mean, I would like more concrete factors as to what specifically builds our individual sexual preferences. More on that later.
Back to the original topic; Why is it, we as a society still draw lines as if they are social borders around different "types" of people? Why do we still demonstrate so many intolerances toward race, religious conviction, sex, color, sexual orientation, ethnicity, musical tastes, appearance fashion, money, social status, language and even zodiac sign? And don't worry, this is not a recent change. I still think smokers are silly.
But forcing ones ideals on others inevitably leads to animosity and in most cases suffering. History has proven this time and time again. It is now my belief that tolerating differences in people or accepting diversity is paramount to a successful relationship either as friends or lovers. At the very least it should rank up there with having the same religious beliefs or sexual preferences.
This got me thinking. I became more aware of the narrow-mindedness and intolerance that surrounds me. I also became conscious of my own. Instead of trying to end our differences, let's celebrate them and accept the fact that by our very nature we are different. And if you think you are better than someone else? You're not. You're just different. Isn't that enough?
As for me, I beg to differ and I'm growing to like it.
PS For the record? I'm kind of an ass man....
......this week. ;)
Fast forward about 30 years. I'd like to think I'm very tolerant of the many differences in the people around me today. In fact, I admire these differences.
While it's true that common interests may attract us initially, it's the differences that stimulate us and turn us on. "Same" is stale and boring and rarely sexy. "Different" gets us laid. I believe it was Darwin's theory that said diversity is fundamental to our evolution. If you ask me, it is fundamental to procreation.
On that thought; we've all heard the expressions, "I'm an ass man" or " I'm a boobs or legs guy". Well, why? How did that happen? From the very subtle to the extreme fetish or perversion. Why does what turns us on, turn us on? I would like to someday conduct some research into this myself. I mean, I would like more concrete factors as to what specifically builds our individual sexual preferences. More on that later.
Back to the original topic; Why is it, we as a society still draw lines as if they are social borders around different "types" of people? Why do we still demonstrate so many intolerances toward race, religious conviction, sex, color, sexual orientation, ethnicity, musical tastes, appearance fashion, money, social status, language and even zodiac sign? And don't worry, this is not a recent change. I still think smokers are silly.
But forcing ones ideals on others inevitably leads to animosity and in most cases suffering. History has proven this time and time again. It is now my belief that tolerating differences in people or accepting diversity is paramount to a successful relationship either as friends or lovers. At the very least it should rank up there with having the same religious beliefs or sexual preferences.
This got me thinking. I became more aware of the narrow-mindedness and intolerance that surrounds me. I also became conscious of my own. Instead of trying to end our differences, let's celebrate them and accept the fact that by our very nature we are different. And if you think you are better than someone else? You're not. You're just different. Isn't that enough?
As for me, I beg to differ and I'm growing to like it.
PS For the record? I'm kind of an ass man....
......this week. ;)
Friday, May 1, 2009
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Sexual Self-Esteem
I remember when I was 12 and in love with a girl in my class. I'd punch her really hard in the stomach, pull her hair, steal her lunch and pass scandalous notes about her in class as a way to show her I liked her. I know what you're thinking……pretty subtle huh? I used to think that stalking was the true definition of unconditional love in its purest form. Then I realized that just telling a woman that you love her –WITHOUT an erection is real love. I grew up with seven older sisters. Is it any wonder that negative thoughts of relationships and marriage pervade my life? I even envisioned myself someday publishing a magazine on the subject of relationships for men. I’d call it, “WHIPPED”. It would feature articles and headliners such as:
Be Your Own Boss
when she’s not around
Coping With the Loss of Your Friends
and the introduction of hers
Dealing With the Absence of Sex
10 New Ways to Sleep on the Couch!
Sexual Self-Esteem
How to carry her purse and still feel like a man!
How to Avoid Her Family
And yes, her sister is off limits
I’m really not this cynical but it made me realize that maintaining communication between the sexes is fraught with difficulty. If you've ever read "Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus", or “He’s Just not that Into You” you'll have wasted good money that you could have spent buying drinks at the bar and singing karaoke. You'll learn the same thing: women are articulate and talkative and like to discuss emotions and inner problems. Men just sit there and say "Uh huh" every so often in order to seem like they're listening while looking down your blouse wondering if you'd consider having sex with me. I mean…..them. And if your girlfriend ever says to you, "You know what I really enjoy out of life? I want to settle down with someone I can just come home to and talk about the day I had at work, cuddle with on the couch and just be myself." Gentlemen, this not the time to ask, "Will there still be blow jobs?"
Speaking of sex, how many people here have or would have a threesome? I mean isn't ménage a trios French for "Who the heck is that dude?" Just a curiosity but isn't that like just getting permission to have an affair right in front of your partner? Has this ever worked for anyone? This isn't a fantasy. The REAL fantasy in today's relationships is being able to trust someone and communicate.
Finally, what is the true meaning of sexual self-esteem? If at a bar-b-que and you find the reason most of your female friends have never come on to you before is because they all thought you were gay? Laugh in astonishment, grab your crotch, hock out a loogey and begin talking about football immediately. Hey, it’s not that bad. When it comes to sexual self-esteem women have it worse – treadmill, scrub, moisturize, tone, wax, pluck, shave, braid, tint (top), dye (bottom), deodorize, exfoliate, mask, manicure, pedicure, Botox, fill, shade, conceal, paint, powder, glitter, gloss, perfume, decorate and style. And that’s just on the outside. So, when it comes to sexual self-esteem us guys seem to have it easier. That is, until the women at the bar-b-que start talking about penis size.
Be Your Own Boss
when she’s not around
Coping With the Loss of Your Friends
and the introduction of hers
Dealing With the Absence of Sex
10 New Ways to Sleep on the Couch!
Sexual Self-Esteem
How to carry her purse and still feel like a man!
How to Avoid Her Family
And yes, her sister is off limits
I’m really not this cynical but it made me realize that maintaining communication between the sexes is fraught with difficulty. If you've ever read "Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus", or “He’s Just not that Into You” you'll have wasted good money that you could have spent buying drinks at the bar and singing karaoke. You'll learn the same thing: women are articulate and talkative and like to discuss emotions and inner problems. Men just sit there and say "Uh huh" every so often in order to seem like they're listening while looking down your blouse wondering if you'd consider having sex with me. I mean…..them. And if your girlfriend ever says to you, "You know what I really enjoy out of life? I want to settle down with someone I can just come home to and talk about the day I had at work, cuddle with on the couch and just be myself." Gentlemen, this not the time to ask, "Will there still be blow jobs?"
Speaking of sex, how many people here have or would have a threesome? I mean isn't ménage a trios French for "Who the heck is that dude?" Just a curiosity but isn't that like just getting permission to have an affair right in front of your partner? Has this ever worked for anyone? This isn't a fantasy. The REAL fantasy in today's relationships is being able to trust someone and communicate.
Finally, what is the true meaning of sexual self-esteem? If at a bar-b-que and you find the reason most of your female friends have never come on to you before is because they all thought you were gay? Laugh in astonishment, grab your crotch, hock out a loogey and begin talking about football immediately. Hey, it’s not that bad. When it comes to sexual self-esteem women have it worse – treadmill, scrub, moisturize, tone, wax, pluck, shave, braid, tint (top), dye (bottom), deodorize, exfoliate, mask, manicure, pedicure, Botox, fill, shade, conceal, paint, powder, glitter, gloss, perfume, decorate and style. And that’s just on the outside. So, when it comes to sexual self-esteem us guys seem to have it easier. That is, until the women at the bar-b-que start talking about penis size.
The Unlucky II
The smile on her mouth was the dearest thing
Alive enough only to have strength to die
Replaced by the grin of biterness thereby
Since then keen lessons both agree
love deceives
Alive enough only to have strength to die
Replaced by the grin of biterness thereby
Since then keen lessons both agree
love deceives
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
The Unlucky
My sighs settle around her shoulders as she walks by
She holds my memory in the curve of her smile
Oh, to gather those lips for just one more kiss
And linger there a while
Lured once again by loves austere curse
The whispers of true love go faintly ever so
Oh, how strange and changeful life is
To the unlucky love will never know
She holds my memory in the curve of her smile
Oh, to gather those lips for just one more kiss
And linger there a while
Lured once again by loves austere curse
The whispers of true love go faintly ever so
Oh, how strange and changeful life is
To the unlucky love will never know
I'll bet
I’ll bet she misses me every day
I’ll bet she misses my quirky ways
I’ll bet she misses my smiling face
My goofy laugh and warm embrace
How we were more alike than she ever knew
Yeah, I know....
I’ll bet I’m wrong about these things too.
I’ll bet she misses my quirky ways
I’ll bet she misses my smiling face
My goofy laugh and warm embrace
How we were more alike than she ever knew
Yeah, I know....
I’ll bet I’m wrong about these things too.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Happiness As Seen Through My Eyes
“Quit it!” she demands. “Would you stop!” she insists uncomfortably. I love to stare at her; to look into her eyes. Aside from their alluring beauty her eyes are her history. They contain the archives of all her memories. Until recently it was only through those eyes that I could see those memories for myself, the faces and places she cherishes, moments shared with people closest to her, even those now long gone. With her family before me, her memories unfold in real-time. The secrets, the longing for what once was, the actuality of what will never again be, the promise of what may yet come. Every glance is another snapshot of her. I stare.
How astonishing these eyes of ours are. They are in a way scavengers, promiscuous even. Sight is foreplay. Even when entangled with her as I yield to pleasure and close my eyes; I can still see every inch of her. And later, asleep and dreaming, I can see her again. I stare for the snapshots so that even years later I can call them up and still see her there. My wish is that someday she will see herself through my eyes. As I see her. For now, I stare.
We talk of love at first sight. Is there really such a thing? Both men and women attest to it. But do we really see the same thing? We use our eyes to scan each other on first sighting and trick them into giving us glimpses of the future. A future may be untold but is rarely unseen. A hand on the small of her back to guide her to her seat, the expectation of her needs before she has them, the need to make her voice the last thing I hear before falling asleep…..these are the cues that we will rehearse someday. I used to think I knew what love was. Now at least I know what it looks like. Tonight, I will drift off to sleep and call her up again. This is happiness, as seen through my eyes.
How astonishing these eyes of ours are. They are in a way scavengers, promiscuous even. Sight is foreplay. Even when entangled with her as I yield to pleasure and close my eyes; I can still see every inch of her. And later, asleep and dreaming, I can see her again. I stare for the snapshots so that even years later I can call them up and still see her there. My wish is that someday she will see herself through my eyes. As I see her. For now, I stare.
We talk of love at first sight. Is there really such a thing? Both men and women attest to it. But do we really see the same thing? We use our eyes to scan each other on first sighting and trick them into giving us glimpses of the future. A future may be untold but is rarely unseen. A hand on the small of her back to guide her to her seat, the expectation of her needs before she has them, the need to make her voice the last thing I hear before falling asleep…..these are the cues that we will rehearse someday. I used to think I knew what love was. Now at least I know what it looks like. Tonight, I will drift off to sleep and call her up again. This is happiness, as seen through my eyes.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Nor'easter
Nor’easter
Alex never tired of the scenic drive to his parents’ house. The country roadways of upstate New York were especially beautiful in the fall and winter seasons. He couldn’t decide which he loved more-fall with its changing leaves and beautiful colors or winter for the snow covered trees and fresh, brisk air. It was a relaxing and picturesque two-hour trek. He had made this trip often enough and had never missed a major holiday. He was especially careful not to miss this one. A light snow had been falling since morning, melting as it touched the ground. Gentle, but with unbroken commitment, it intended to conceal everything below it.
As Alex pressed on route 30A near Broadalbin Junction, the back way to his parents’ house, he was reflecting on his childhood. He remembered how, as a little boy, he used to ask his mother, “How much do you love me?” She would hold up her hands about a foot apart and say, “This much.” He would then hold his hands about a foot and a half apart and say, “I love you this much, so I love you more!” She would counter and the game would progress until he spread his arms as far apart as they would go. Then his mother would be forced to concede that she couldn’t possibly love him any more than that, and he would run off with a victory whoop, thoroughly convinced that he was the best, most loving son ever. The memory of their little game brought a smile to his face.
Alex spent a lot of time with his mother preparing dinners and school lunches for his seven older sisters. He supposed that not many boys at age nine would spend as much time with their mothers doing chores, but with his father often away at work, he preferred the company of his mother to that of his sisters. Besides, this presented the two of them with plenty of opportunities to talk; it was not something he thoroughly appreciated at the time. Alex sighed. He wished he had been closer to his father as well.
As the radio played yet another Valentine’s dedication, Alex remembered specifically one day while he was helping his mother with the dishes he inquired, “What is Valentine’s day, mom?”
“Valentine’s day is a special day of the year on which people express their love for each other by giving cards, presenting flowers, or candy. The holiday is named after Saint Valentine,” she offered. Alex thought about this for a moment.
“What did you get daddy?” he asked.
“Well, if your father were home, we would be making his favorite dinner.”
“Is he coming home this weekend?”
“No, honey,” she explained. “Your father wasn’t able to make it because of the storms coming in.”
“Is that why there is no school today?” Alex said pointing at the falling snow outside the window.
“Yes,” his mother answered. “Sometimes storms can keep people apart, but sometimes they can also bring them together. Your father and I will have plenty of Valentines. Looks like this year it’s just you and me.”
Alex remembered how his hands were still wet when he quickly ran outside around the patio and behind the garage to where his mothers’ indoor flower garden was. He burst inside and forced the door closed behind him. Alex studied the assortment of flowers growing there for a moment and without further hesitation picked a handful that he was sure would please her. He ran back inside as his mother was finishing the dishes that he had abandoned. Just as his mother was about to reprimand him for running outside without his jacket, Alex proudly presented his gift to her. She did not respond right away. Instead, her eyes welled up as she grabbed him and hugged him so hard that he nearly lost his breath.
“Thank you dear. You are going to make some lucky young lady very happy one day,” she declared tenderly brushing the snow from his hair. “Next time, don’t forget your jacket,” she whispered.
Turning on the windshield wipers, Alex had to chuckle. He didn’t know about lucky, but that young lady his mother spoke of turned out to be Emily, his wife of thirteen years. Sometimes it was hard to believe that he was married and had two children of his own. Two was a far cry from eight and Alex was thankful for that. He remembered what it was like growing up with seven older sisters. In fact, as he recalled, with that many women in the house Alex did not even know what the inside of a bathroom even looked like until he was at least seven or so.
Just ahead was the Saratoga Boulevard intersection. Alex decided to pull into the Stewarts to fill-up. He hadn’t had time to fill the tank after dropping Emily off at her parents. He found himself wishing she had come with him this time, but she had thought it best if Alex spent some time with his now-retired father. She was unaware of just how uncomfortable that could be
.
“He probably doesn’t know what to do with himself these days,” she would say. Boy, how he wished she had come. Emily had a way of making things seem, well, less awkward. As Alex waited to pay for his gas, he suddenly remembered something. Giving up his place in line, he made his way to the beverage cooler and picked up a six pack of Genesee Ale, his father’s favorite beer. While waiting in line again, Alex felt his cell phone vibrate silently in his pocket, letting him know that another text message had been delivered. Emily, he was sure. She was probably keeping him up to date on her visit with her parents. The two of them were to meet back at the house later for a Valentine’s dinner and a quiet evening together. As he headed back to the car, he heard a voice call from behind.
“Sir,” Alex turned to the voice. “You dropped something.” Without waiting for Alex to respond she continued, “Isn’t that yours?” Alex looked over to where she gestured to discover that he had dropped his wallet.
“Oh, thank you very much.” Alex said picking up the wallet. With a quick appraisal presuming that everything was still there, he returned the wallet to his coat pocket and turned his attention back to the woman.
“It’s quite alright, young man. You’re welcome. You wouldn’t want to leave that behind.”
“No. I suppose I wouldn’t,” he said.
“That would make for a bad day, indeed,” the woman said more to herself than to Alex. She glanced up and studied the sky for a moment and said, “You drive safe now….some bad weather coming. Looks like from the north.” He had to smile at that. A “Nor’easter” his mother would call it. The sky was overcast and there had been a light flurry since he had left. Not so unusual for this time of year, he thought.
“It’s sure to spoil some travel plans,” she remarked. “I hope it’s not too far where you’re going.” With a reassuring smile, she turned and headed into the store. Seeing the rather frail looking elderly woman reminded Alex how quickly the years catch us. This was never more apparent to Alex than when one of one of his own parents fell ill a few years back.
Alex remembered that visit. It was another Valentine’s Day; his mother’s favorite holiday. He remembered staring at his two aging parents, and wondering how the years had seemed to catch up with them almost as if all at once. To his mother’s relief his father had finally retired that year.
“Now try not to get jealous this time,” his father said.
“Your father is just excited he gets to see his favorite redheaded nurse tomorrow,” his mother said, folding her arms.
“I’m telling ya, I should have been a doctor,” he said.
“It takes more than surrounding yourself with pretty nurses to make you a doctor, dear.”
“I didn’t say I’d be a good one,” laughed his father.
“You certainly won’t get any argument here. Now, did you bring me the pictures of our trip to Niagara? I want to show Alex.” Alex grinned. He was grinning because he knew that at times it would be easier to change the course of a river even with its bends, falls, depths and sometimes unpredictable course, than to change the mind of either of his parents. He knew that if they had their minds set on showing him some photographs, he’d best go along with it. It did not matter how many times he had seen them before.
As his parents assaulted Alex with stories of the careers they should have chosen, he wondered the extent of those regrets- where they should have traveled or the lives that should belong to them. They certainly did not seem to have a problem telling Alex what he should do with his own life. They seemed to have long since given up on traveling the world, buying that new car or new house- trading it for the realization of what was before them now. Yet they seemed surprisingly happy, especially with each other even as stubborn as each of them had become. Their lives now full of clichés; their impulsiveness and age earned them the right to say the first thing to pop into their heads no matter how ridiculous. However, there was sweetness to their message, an almost sincere concern. As they dug through dilapidated furnishings looking for certain photographs, it was soon apparent the importance of those remembrances.
“I told you. They’re not in the attic,” his mother insisted.
“And I’m telling you that’s where they are,” Alex’s father said as he headed upstairs. Realizing that his father was never going to take direction to the whereabouts of what she was looking for, his mother reluctantly got up and pulled out a photo album from a chest of drawers.
“Shhh.” Pressing a finger to her lips, she said to Alex, “Let him look a while. He’s already made a mess of things as it is. Besides, he should be getting more exercise anyway.” She was always teasing his father about the messes he would leave. She used to say that whenever she would go into a room he was working in she could tell he had done the work of three men; Larry, Curly and Moe. She knew better though. His father was very good with his hands and talented in all things to do with construction or carpentry, unlike Alex. Alex was nothing like that. Instead, he had gone the way of academia; yet another thing they did not have in common.
Alex realized that most of what they considered important had not yet been vindicated but was instead forever preserved and immortalized in these photographic timelines. He was reminded that this was important to them.
“Your mother hates it when I’m right,’ his father said proudly returning with a thick tome of photographs.
“No, I just hate it when you talk,” she said with a chortle.
“Well, then how are you going know when I’m right?” It was more of a statement than a question.
“Now you’re catching on. And that’s the wrong album, dear. I have what I was looking for." With a resigned look on his face, he muttered under his breath and started back up the stairs.
It was then that Alex realized what she was looking for. Inside the yellowing pages of this aging picture book was a page sealed with dried flowers. It was the Valentine’s gift he had given her when he was nine. Looking at them now even in their decrepit state, he could tell it was a sad excuse for a flower arrangement, even then. But still, after all these years, she had kept them.
Upon returning, his father realized the efforts of his earlier search had left a mess of things. In flattering fashion, and determined to save himself any further grief from mother, he set about re-arranging the belongings; each to its proper place. Alex returned his attention to his mother; her gaze already on him.
“Do you know how much I love you?” she challenged. Without waiting for a reply she extended her arms as far as she could and declared, “I love you this much.” And then she began to cry; a joyful cry.
As Alex pulled in to his parent’s driveway, he began having doubts. He wondered if he should have come at all. It was a bit difficult being so familiar now with a man that until recent years he hadn’t really known. He is quite a remarkable man though. After all, he managed to keep a family of eight together and his mother happy all these years, Alex thought to himself. Getting out of the car he stopped for a moment and took a deep breath. As if to lend credibility to the old woman warning, it was beginning to snow harder, much harder. The freshly fallen snow had made the roads stand out in stark contrast to their newly white-blanketed surroundings. Making his way to the front door with a six pack of beer in one hand and a large bouquet of assorted flowers in the other, Alex noticed that the driveway, sidewalk and steps had already been cleared of any accumulation. His father always was a morning person he thought. However, the snow was fighting back; making its intentions known. It had dusted his father’s achievement with a thin layer of renewed and promising effort. Alex smiled because he knew his father would be out here again with his snow blower as soon as it got deep enough.
Alex knocked on the door. Above the sounds of the running furnace he could hear muffled footfalls and clank of a walker cane advancing toward the door. The door opened a crack; his father peered out to look at him.
“Oh.” He said to Alex. “It’s you.” He didn’t open the door any further but instead let it fend for itself. As if someone were trying to beat him to it, he turned to get a head start back to his chair.
“I brought you a gift,” Alex said as he let himself in.
“Yea, I see the flowers,” grumbled his father. “You don’t think we have enough flowers around here what with the flower garden and all? Bad enough I gotta take care of that thing. Somebody’s got to.” Alex knew that despite his father’s protest, he wouldn’t have it any other way. He had built that indoor flower garden for his mother with his own two hands.
“I got them for mother,” Alex said.
“I know that. What’d ya think? I thought you got them for me?”
Alex put the beer into the refrigerator. Though Alex was more of a wine person, the two of them would have a beer later in the afternoon; as was their newly found tradition. At least there was that.
“It’s really coming down out there,” Alex said gesturing out the window.
“Uh huh,” his father said inspecting the skies for himself. “A Nor’easter. Looks like the snow blower’ll get plenty of use. Seems you got here just in time. If you made any plans, best see to ‘em soon. Lest you be stuck here.” Alex hadn’t thought of that. Truth is, having spent so little time with his father, he didn’t know what that would be like. He never had spent a lot of time alone with him. Should he leave? He had just arrived. He thought of Emily. Glancing at the pictures hanging on the wall, he had noticed that his mother had framed the Valentine flower arrangement he had given her as a child and hung it up like a painting.
“When did you do that?” Alex asked motioning to the wall. His father looked up to the flowers. Alex thought he detected the slightest of grins attend his father’s weathered face.
He turned to Alex and with a gentler voice said, “You were always her favorite Valentine you know, ever since you picked her those flowers.” Alex hesitated. He didn’t know what to say.
“Yeah,” Alex sighed “I miss her too.” His father said nothing. He didn’t have to. The two of them looked at each other for a moment and then returned their gaze to the window and the ever determined snow falling outside. It remained silent for some time. Snow that had once been melting as it hit the ground was now freezing into icy stalactites hanging from the gutters, telephone lines and tree limbs. It was then he remembered what his mother had said so long ago. He took his phone out of his pocket to call Emily.
“Yep,” drawing a long breath his father finally said, “It’s a nor’easter alright. Wonder how much we’ll get?”
Alex let his phone drop back into his coat pocket, looked out the window again and said, “I’ve seen worse.” And just like that, as if with renewed interest the two of them were talking again. Of course, they were always more comfortable talking about the weather.
Alex never tired of the scenic drive to his parents’ house. The country roadways of upstate New York were especially beautiful in the fall and winter seasons. He couldn’t decide which he loved more-fall with its changing leaves and beautiful colors or winter for the snow covered trees and fresh, brisk air. It was a relaxing and picturesque two-hour trek. He had made this trip often enough and had never missed a major holiday. He was especially careful not to miss this one. A light snow had been falling since morning, melting as it touched the ground. Gentle, but with unbroken commitment, it intended to conceal everything below it.
As Alex pressed on route 30A near Broadalbin Junction, the back way to his parents’ house, he was reflecting on his childhood. He remembered how, as a little boy, he used to ask his mother, “How much do you love me?” She would hold up her hands about a foot apart and say, “This much.” He would then hold his hands about a foot and a half apart and say, “I love you this much, so I love you more!” She would counter and the game would progress until he spread his arms as far apart as they would go. Then his mother would be forced to concede that she couldn’t possibly love him any more than that, and he would run off with a victory whoop, thoroughly convinced that he was the best, most loving son ever. The memory of their little game brought a smile to his face.
Alex spent a lot of time with his mother preparing dinners and school lunches for his seven older sisters. He supposed that not many boys at age nine would spend as much time with their mothers doing chores, but with his father often away at work, he preferred the company of his mother to that of his sisters. Besides, this presented the two of them with plenty of opportunities to talk; it was not something he thoroughly appreciated at the time. Alex sighed. He wished he had been closer to his father as well.
As the radio played yet another Valentine’s dedication, Alex remembered specifically one day while he was helping his mother with the dishes he inquired, “What is Valentine’s day, mom?”
“Valentine’s day is a special day of the year on which people express their love for each other by giving cards, presenting flowers, or candy. The holiday is named after Saint Valentine,” she offered. Alex thought about this for a moment.
“What did you get daddy?” he asked.
“Well, if your father were home, we would be making his favorite dinner.”
“Is he coming home this weekend?”
“No, honey,” she explained. “Your father wasn’t able to make it because of the storms coming in.”
“Is that why there is no school today?” Alex said pointing at the falling snow outside the window.
“Yes,” his mother answered. “Sometimes storms can keep people apart, but sometimes they can also bring them together. Your father and I will have plenty of Valentines. Looks like this year it’s just you and me.”
Alex remembered how his hands were still wet when he quickly ran outside around the patio and behind the garage to where his mothers’ indoor flower garden was. He burst inside and forced the door closed behind him. Alex studied the assortment of flowers growing there for a moment and without further hesitation picked a handful that he was sure would please her. He ran back inside as his mother was finishing the dishes that he had abandoned. Just as his mother was about to reprimand him for running outside without his jacket, Alex proudly presented his gift to her. She did not respond right away. Instead, her eyes welled up as she grabbed him and hugged him so hard that he nearly lost his breath.
“Thank you dear. You are going to make some lucky young lady very happy one day,” she declared tenderly brushing the snow from his hair. “Next time, don’t forget your jacket,” she whispered.
Turning on the windshield wipers, Alex had to chuckle. He didn’t know about lucky, but that young lady his mother spoke of turned out to be Emily, his wife of thirteen years. Sometimes it was hard to believe that he was married and had two children of his own. Two was a far cry from eight and Alex was thankful for that. He remembered what it was like growing up with seven older sisters. In fact, as he recalled, with that many women in the house Alex did not even know what the inside of a bathroom even looked like until he was at least seven or so.
Just ahead was the Saratoga Boulevard intersection. Alex decided to pull into the Stewarts to fill-up. He hadn’t had time to fill the tank after dropping Emily off at her parents. He found himself wishing she had come with him this time, but she had thought it best if Alex spent some time with his now-retired father. She was unaware of just how uncomfortable that could be
.
“He probably doesn’t know what to do with himself these days,” she would say. Boy, how he wished she had come. Emily had a way of making things seem, well, less awkward. As Alex waited to pay for his gas, he suddenly remembered something. Giving up his place in line, he made his way to the beverage cooler and picked up a six pack of Genesee Ale, his father’s favorite beer. While waiting in line again, Alex felt his cell phone vibrate silently in his pocket, letting him know that another text message had been delivered. Emily, he was sure. She was probably keeping him up to date on her visit with her parents. The two of them were to meet back at the house later for a Valentine’s dinner and a quiet evening together. As he headed back to the car, he heard a voice call from behind.
“Sir,” Alex turned to the voice. “You dropped something.” Without waiting for Alex to respond she continued, “Isn’t that yours?” Alex looked over to where she gestured to discover that he had dropped his wallet.
“Oh, thank you very much.” Alex said picking up the wallet. With a quick appraisal presuming that everything was still there, he returned the wallet to his coat pocket and turned his attention back to the woman.
“It’s quite alright, young man. You’re welcome. You wouldn’t want to leave that behind.”
“No. I suppose I wouldn’t,” he said.
“That would make for a bad day, indeed,” the woman said more to herself than to Alex. She glanced up and studied the sky for a moment and said, “You drive safe now….some bad weather coming. Looks like from the north.” He had to smile at that. A “Nor’easter” his mother would call it. The sky was overcast and there had been a light flurry since he had left. Not so unusual for this time of year, he thought.
“It’s sure to spoil some travel plans,” she remarked. “I hope it’s not too far where you’re going.” With a reassuring smile, she turned and headed into the store. Seeing the rather frail looking elderly woman reminded Alex how quickly the years catch us. This was never more apparent to Alex than when one of one of his own parents fell ill a few years back.
Alex remembered that visit. It was another Valentine’s Day; his mother’s favorite holiday. He remembered staring at his two aging parents, and wondering how the years had seemed to catch up with them almost as if all at once. To his mother’s relief his father had finally retired that year.
“Now try not to get jealous this time,” his father said.
“Your father is just excited he gets to see his favorite redheaded nurse tomorrow,” his mother said, folding her arms.
“I’m telling ya, I should have been a doctor,” he said.
“It takes more than surrounding yourself with pretty nurses to make you a doctor, dear.”
“I didn’t say I’d be a good one,” laughed his father.
“You certainly won’t get any argument here. Now, did you bring me the pictures of our trip to Niagara? I want to show Alex.” Alex grinned. He was grinning because he knew that at times it would be easier to change the course of a river even with its bends, falls, depths and sometimes unpredictable course, than to change the mind of either of his parents. He knew that if they had their minds set on showing him some photographs, he’d best go along with it. It did not matter how many times he had seen them before.
As his parents assaulted Alex with stories of the careers they should have chosen, he wondered the extent of those regrets- where they should have traveled or the lives that should belong to them. They certainly did not seem to have a problem telling Alex what he should do with his own life. They seemed to have long since given up on traveling the world, buying that new car or new house- trading it for the realization of what was before them now. Yet they seemed surprisingly happy, especially with each other even as stubborn as each of them had become. Their lives now full of clichés; their impulsiveness and age earned them the right to say the first thing to pop into their heads no matter how ridiculous. However, there was sweetness to their message, an almost sincere concern. As they dug through dilapidated furnishings looking for certain photographs, it was soon apparent the importance of those remembrances.
“I told you. They’re not in the attic,” his mother insisted.
“And I’m telling you that’s where they are,” Alex’s father said as he headed upstairs. Realizing that his father was never going to take direction to the whereabouts of what she was looking for, his mother reluctantly got up and pulled out a photo album from a chest of drawers.
“Shhh.” Pressing a finger to her lips, she said to Alex, “Let him look a while. He’s already made a mess of things as it is. Besides, he should be getting more exercise anyway.” She was always teasing his father about the messes he would leave. She used to say that whenever she would go into a room he was working in she could tell he had done the work of three men; Larry, Curly and Moe. She knew better though. His father was very good with his hands and talented in all things to do with construction or carpentry, unlike Alex. Alex was nothing like that. Instead, he had gone the way of academia; yet another thing they did not have in common.
Alex realized that most of what they considered important had not yet been vindicated but was instead forever preserved and immortalized in these photographic timelines. He was reminded that this was important to them.
“Your mother hates it when I’m right,’ his father said proudly returning with a thick tome of photographs.
“No, I just hate it when you talk,” she said with a chortle.
“Well, then how are you going know when I’m right?” It was more of a statement than a question.
“Now you’re catching on. And that’s the wrong album, dear. I have what I was looking for." With a resigned look on his face, he muttered under his breath and started back up the stairs.
It was then that Alex realized what she was looking for. Inside the yellowing pages of this aging picture book was a page sealed with dried flowers. It was the Valentine’s gift he had given her when he was nine. Looking at them now even in their decrepit state, he could tell it was a sad excuse for a flower arrangement, even then. But still, after all these years, she had kept them.
Upon returning, his father realized the efforts of his earlier search had left a mess of things. In flattering fashion, and determined to save himself any further grief from mother, he set about re-arranging the belongings; each to its proper place. Alex returned his attention to his mother; her gaze already on him.
“Do you know how much I love you?” she challenged. Without waiting for a reply she extended her arms as far as she could and declared, “I love you this much.” And then she began to cry; a joyful cry.
As Alex pulled in to his parent’s driveway, he began having doubts. He wondered if he should have come at all. It was a bit difficult being so familiar now with a man that until recent years he hadn’t really known. He is quite a remarkable man though. After all, he managed to keep a family of eight together and his mother happy all these years, Alex thought to himself. Getting out of the car he stopped for a moment and took a deep breath. As if to lend credibility to the old woman warning, it was beginning to snow harder, much harder. The freshly fallen snow had made the roads stand out in stark contrast to their newly white-blanketed surroundings. Making his way to the front door with a six pack of beer in one hand and a large bouquet of assorted flowers in the other, Alex noticed that the driveway, sidewalk and steps had already been cleared of any accumulation. His father always was a morning person he thought. However, the snow was fighting back; making its intentions known. It had dusted his father’s achievement with a thin layer of renewed and promising effort. Alex smiled because he knew his father would be out here again with his snow blower as soon as it got deep enough.
Alex knocked on the door. Above the sounds of the running furnace he could hear muffled footfalls and clank of a walker cane advancing toward the door. The door opened a crack; his father peered out to look at him.
“Oh.” He said to Alex. “It’s you.” He didn’t open the door any further but instead let it fend for itself. As if someone were trying to beat him to it, he turned to get a head start back to his chair.
“I brought you a gift,” Alex said as he let himself in.
“Yea, I see the flowers,” grumbled his father. “You don’t think we have enough flowers around here what with the flower garden and all? Bad enough I gotta take care of that thing. Somebody’s got to.” Alex knew that despite his father’s protest, he wouldn’t have it any other way. He had built that indoor flower garden for his mother with his own two hands.
“I got them for mother,” Alex said.
“I know that. What’d ya think? I thought you got them for me?”
Alex put the beer into the refrigerator. Though Alex was more of a wine person, the two of them would have a beer later in the afternoon; as was their newly found tradition. At least there was that.
“It’s really coming down out there,” Alex said gesturing out the window.
“Uh huh,” his father said inspecting the skies for himself. “A Nor’easter. Looks like the snow blower’ll get plenty of use. Seems you got here just in time. If you made any plans, best see to ‘em soon. Lest you be stuck here.” Alex hadn’t thought of that. Truth is, having spent so little time with his father, he didn’t know what that would be like. He never had spent a lot of time alone with him. Should he leave? He had just arrived. He thought of Emily. Glancing at the pictures hanging on the wall, he had noticed that his mother had framed the Valentine flower arrangement he had given her as a child and hung it up like a painting.
“When did you do that?” Alex asked motioning to the wall. His father looked up to the flowers. Alex thought he detected the slightest of grins attend his father’s weathered face.
He turned to Alex and with a gentler voice said, “You were always her favorite Valentine you know, ever since you picked her those flowers.” Alex hesitated. He didn’t know what to say.
“Yeah,” Alex sighed “I miss her too.” His father said nothing. He didn’t have to. The two of them looked at each other for a moment and then returned their gaze to the window and the ever determined snow falling outside. It remained silent for some time. Snow that had once been melting as it hit the ground was now freezing into icy stalactites hanging from the gutters, telephone lines and tree limbs. It was then he remembered what his mother had said so long ago. He took his phone out of his pocket to call Emily.
“Yep,” drawing a long breath his father finally said, “It’s a nor’easter alright. Wonder how much we’ll get?”
Alex let his phone drop back into his coat pocket, looked out the window again and said, “I’ve seen worse.” And just like that, as if with renewed interest the two of them were talking again. Of course, they were always more comfortable talking about the weather.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Getting to Know Me
1. I still cannot eat spaghetti without getting some on my shirt.
2. I love cheese, nachos, ice cream, whip cream and popcorn!
3. I love Starbucks! In fact, when I was sick for about 10 days and couldn’tshow up to get my morning coffee, the staff and patrons got together and got me a get-well card for me. They also took turns bringing me my daily coffee. Job security.
4. I’m probably the only person you will know that broke their arm in a chess tournament. I tripped went I was jumping up and down celebrating.
5. Bella is a much better dancer than I am.
6. I STILL cannot seem to remember to put my toothbrush in my mouth BEFORE turning it on.
7. Lists like these make me very horny.
8. I grew up with 7 older sisters. I didn’t know what the inside of a bathroom looked like until I was 9 years old.
9. I have many pet peeves. One of which is people that have too many pet
peeves.
10. I have problems remembering things.
11. I’m VERY sarcastic. Duh!
12. Whenever I’m depressed I go to Wal-Mart. You only need to hear, “Now put that down honey! You know we can’t afford no Tang!” just once to realize that you don’t have it so bad. Hey, I didn’t say I was proud of it.
13. I love the word “Queue.” It is the only word that if you dropped the last 4 letters would still sound the same.
14. I’m a very peaceful and caring person. If anyone tries to take that away from me I beat the crap out of them!
15. I carry wet naps and practice safe texting.
16. I’m not afraid to cry. Admittingly, when I hurt myself, but I’m working on that.
17. I love to write.
18. I have problems remembering things.
19. I am very outgoing. I’ve been told I have an “air” about me. I’m not sure what they mean but I’ve started wearing more deodorant anyway.
20. I love to sing and play guitar.
21. I love teaching.
22. I like thunderstorms and rainy weather. Why am I in Tucson again?
23. When people first meet me, there is a 50-50 chance they will either hate me or like me. But that is only right 50% of the time.
24. Fanaticism of ANY type pisses me off. Once you’ve crossed the line to fanatic about ANYTHING, you’ve stopped learning and accepting new information. Even health nuts are still nuts.
25. I am seldom serious. Seriously.
2. I love cheese, nachos, ice cream, whip cream and popcorn!
3. I love Starbucks! In fact, when I was sick for about 10 days and couldn’tshow up to get my morning coffee, the staff and patrons got together and got me a get-well card for me. They also took turns bringing me my daily coffee. Job security.
4. I’m probably the only person you will know that broke their arm in a chess tournament. I tripped went I was jumping up and down celebrating.
5. Bella is a much better dancer than I am.
6. I STILL cannot seem to remember to put my toothbrush in my mouth BEFORE turning it on.
7. Lists like these make me very horny.
8. I grew up with 7 older sisters. I didn’t know what the inside of a bathroom looked like until I was 9 years old.
9. I have many pet peeves. One of which is people that have too many pet
peeves.
10. I have problems remembering things.
11. I’m VERY sarcastic. Duh!
12. Whenever I’m depressed I go to Wal-Mart. You only need to hear, “Now put that down honey! You know we can’t afford no Tang!” just once to realize that you don’t have it so bad. Hey, I didn’t say I was proud of it.
13. I love the word “Queue.” It is the only word that if you dropped the last 4 letters would still sound the same.
14. I’m a very peaceful and caring person. If anyone tries to take that away from me I beat the crap out of them!
15. I carry wet naps and practice safe texting.
16. I’m not afraid to cry. Admittingly, when I hurt myself, but I’m working on that.
17. I love to write.
18. I have problems remembering things.
19. I am very outgoing. I’ve been told I have an “air” about me. I’m not sure what they mean but I’ve started wearing more deodorant anyway.
20. I love to sing and play guitar.
21. I love teaching.
22. I like thunderstorms and rainy weather. Why am I in Tucson again?
23. When people first meet me, there is a 50-50 chance they will either hate me or like me. But that is only right 50% of the time.
24. Fanaticism of ANY type pisses me off. Once you’ve crossed the line to fanatic about ANYTHING, you’ve stopped learning and accepting new information. Even health nuts are still nuts.
25. I am seldom serious. Seriously.
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