Bittersweet

My eyes were watery, as I looked down past my surgical scars.  The top of your head dropped, as you focused.  You were reluctant to do this for me, but only for an instant.  When I explained that I needed your help, you went straight to work.  You were diligently trying to tug down the seemingly too small of a sock over the slightly swollen foot of your Father’s left leg. It seemed so natural for you.  The sense of service you demonstrated this morning may be your greatest gift you have to offer the World.  It could possibly be the one thing that brings joy and satisfaction to you and the whole world.

Maybe it’s the surgery.  Having my life taken away from me for a few hours as my body is cut, rearranged, sewn back together.  Maybe it’s the pain meds.  I am getting emotional thinking of you lately.  Maybe it’s because it’s your birthday soon.  Maybe it’s because you are so noticeably upset at both my initial injury and my subsequent surgery.  To see you break down  in tears and fear as your Father’s body fails. This morning I am even little fearful.  More concerned, now that I have been reading about the burning linear pain running down the back of my knee.  The probable cause would seem to be a blood clot.  The idea that I may have a condition that may cause a condition that could end my life, is as close I ever have been to death.  Even if I am totally blowing this pain out of proportion, the effect it is having regarding my perspective is sobering.  It doesn’t take much to be reminded of how delicate it all is.  I can see the distress in your eyes when they scan my new six inch scar.  I can see you turn your head to deny something.  I see you, then decide, to overcome your fear and turn me me with tears in your eyes telling me how scared and sad you are to see me this way.  It is a sweet, sweet sadness that you emote and it draws my love to the surface.

I mean, life will go on.  I believe my life will go on after this one.  My love for you will certainly go on, if only in the form of  some words I have written in a blog.  Hopefully the love I planted inside your heart through my actions will endure.  The current form of it all though, of anything you choose to look at, well it is changing as you are looking straight at it. I see that everyday with you.  The expressions you make with your face, the stride you take while walking are different, it seems, every time I look at you.  This doesn’t make me sad.  I am happy for you and your growth.  I don’t wish that you remain unchanged, yet my own life change can be a frightening proposition.  

I get sad when I think of not being around for you.  I desire so strongly to be able to assist you.  I ache at the thought of not being able to tell you how much I love you.  I tear up when I think of you without a father. You are a sweet, compassionate and brave young boy Owen.  You are both curious and repelled by the issues of mortality that present themselves so early in life. You are both an expression and a promoter of Love. You remain a fantastic artist, dancer, lego engineer and singer.  You are simply more than I can express and, so too, my Love for you.  I try to convey my appreciation of your presence in my life.  If I had a million years to write and record it would still not be enough medium to fully convey my gratitude.

Thar' Be Light Matey

The other day, we were walking to your classroom.  You looked up at me, mid-stride, and simply stated that you loved me.  We both kept walking. I asked you, “What did you say?”  This time you looked up at me and said again, “I love you Daddy.” I tried to think of something that I had bought you recently.  Was it the gingerbread house I bought you at Trader Joe’s?  No, you already thanked me for that days ago. What prompted this spontaneous expression of appreciation?  There had to be some sort of cause for this, right?  I asked you why you said that and if everything was 'ok'.  I was acting like I didn’t know.

When you were born, the day you were born, your presence was clear.  Who you were, where you came from and what you were part of was ‘known’. It was obvious. You were absolutely filled with wonder and appreciation.  You were fearless and adventurous. Your presence was “it”.  It was completely motivating for your mother and I. Since you couldn’t do much with your little Jello body, laying there smiling was literally all you could do….and it captivated whole rooms. That energy, that beauty, that force is still you, as you evidenced to me the other day on our walk to your class.  You are still that unconditional beam of light.

This world, in its’ endeavor to show you all the things you are not, will appear to be urging you to become like itself.  With its’ expressions of fear, anger and confusion it will feel as if it is pulling you nearer and nearer to itself.  In the living of my own life I have found myself slipping and sometimes intending those shadows.  I eventually determined, perhaps I should say I eventually remembered, that I was more than all the things I saw around me.  I remembered that I was that beautiful force too.

As I get older, I am 46 now, I am slowly coming around to a basic premise that I used to hold as a self-evident truth; we are light.  We are creatures of light and love.  It is our basic nature, THEY are our base instincts.  As you brought forth this truth with your simple, supple little newborn body in January of 2010, you brought it forth four days ago.  It is still who you are.  It will always be who you are. Happy Birthday Owen! Thank you and I love you too.

Reindeer Games

It is a strangely targeted lie.  It is meant to fool you, Owen.  It is a lie that involves an old man, who really has no business lying to children. The man wants you to sit on his lap.  If everything goes as planned, he will watch the you throughout the year and then sneak into your house in the dead of night.  No one can stop this old man. Even parents cannot stop him, even though they know well in advance of his intentions and capabilities.  In fact, parents often are seen enticing the man with food. Just when you have come to trust the man, your parents will explain to you that he is untrustworthy.  They will explain to you that they have been lying to you about this man, and what he does, even though they themselves have been urging you to trust him.

What a great tradition, right?   Not only is every adult lying to you, but they are all accentuating the exact opposite philosophy  of the person the claim to be celebrating. “Judge not, and ye shall not be judge”, said Jesus Christ.  Not this Santa Claus guy, he will judge you “naughty” or “nice” and then reward you accordingly.  The total focus on gifts and worldly goods also adds to the haze.  There is,also, the inconsistency of judgement that this man renders.  I mean, how does one who sees all give a brand new bike to the kid that you saw steal candy earlier this year?  

These lies you have been told surrounding this time create complications. Is it possible that they undermine trust in you and your parents relationship?  Is it possible that they undermine your ability to trust in anything that the adults have to tell you?  Yet everyone is on board, it would seem. I mean, how can everyone else be wrong about this?  There are lots of times when the majority of people were wrong concerning a tradition or belief.  You do not have to look very far into the past to see that.  

When you ask me whether Santa Claus exists or not, my reply is, “That’s what I hear”.  I know that I am not being quite as honest as I would like to.  I don’t really have the guts to explain to you that it is all a lie, and not a very well thought out one.  I fear that you being the only 6 year old that doesn’t believe will be more harmful than beneficial.  I have acquiesced.  

I am not worried, you will figure it out.  Possibly, I have implemented just enough ambiguity to preserve your trust in me.  I want you to have a wonderful Christmas, with all the joy, wonder and magic that is inherent in this fantastic time of year.  We don’t need facades for this.  We don’t need Santa Claus, The Pope, Odin or Krampus  for this, do we?  Last night I heard a famous Native American say, “..we Indians love to be scared (through stories).”   It appears to me that all of our ancestors enjoyed a good, dark, sooty scare.  Perhaps, it is time to return to the light.

I and Thy

Yesterday was the first day back to the workplace for me, young one.  After a summer-long stint of complete freedom, we now prepare for a completely different life routine.  No more waking up slowly with you, lounging around in our ‘pajamas’ until noon.  Less likely are we to make our early morning shopping run to Trader Joe’s.  It is unlikely that we will stop by McDonalds for a couple of breakfast burritos, on our early and merry way to the Aberdeen Star Wars shop, some strange estate sale or Snoqualmie Falls.  It was a good summer, though.  It was a very good summer.  Now life offers us something different.  Kindergarten begins for us, and you, your mom and I all seem pretty excited about that.  I think, though, we may all be excited about it for different reasons.

When I went back to the school I work at yesterday, everyone seemed thrilled to be back.  People were talking energetically with each other, happily chatting about their summers.  At one point, everyone was clapping together in unison to the song “Happy.”  I sat with these people, slightly confused, with the look of an accompanying spouse to a Mary Kay introductory lunch.  I appear, perhaps, as a judgemental outsider.  I am not judging though, just observing the contrasts.

I come off a little more, shall we say, subdued.   Some people have even gone so far as to tell me to smile more, seemingly concerned or depressed by my contrasting energy. For years, some of life’s more extroverts have labeled me ‘heavy’ or stoic.  I used to be proud of this distinction.  Now days it takes a little consciousness, on my part, to be in the midst of large group of people I differ from without judging myself as ‘weird’.  I no longer use the crutch of ‘pride’ to power through such moments.  The diverging energy can feel like it desires to change me, to become like itself.  Sometimes  it presents foux, facade and glitter to convince me to follow it.  Instead of resisting all of that, these days, I let it. Where as I used to push forward with my own ideals, proclaiming some supposed moral high ground, I now look to serve the others somehow.  When I do this, when I choose this perspective, I am at peace.  I am not at peace as much as I would like, but I know what it feels like.  It is a far more pleasurable experience than anything my ego has to offer.

It is likely that some part of you may feel different.  Either from the others in your class, home or even different from the greater mainstream of society.  Try not to judge, condemn or separate yourself from the ‘others’  too much. Life is created, motivated and kept interesting by contrasts. Remember the pizza parable of the sauce and the cheese?  Me either, but the piquancy of a well made tomato sauce paired with the creamy mozzarella is an obvious expression of divine unity, no?

If everybody was the same, well that  would be totally boring.  I need to remember this when your mother loads the dishwasher….um….differently.   When I hold the door for hundreds of people who are different than I, who stare with confusion and distrust at my subdued demeanor,  I would do well to remember this. Even though we appear to be different, those exuberant souls are part of what makes being ‘me’ possible.  Without them, nothing.  Is it not stones and the water together, after all, that make music of the forest stream?  Together but different. Their interaction, however convoluted and seemingly obstructive, actually creates something beautiful.  If you can get a little distance, detach a bit, you may well hear the bubbling melody.

Effort: Less Son

As a boy I cannot remember ever thinking about the concept of effort.  Everything I did from kickball to arithmetic seemed primed with enthusiasm and a desire to simply do my best.  I think we are all born with that natural instinct.  Then at some point, I lost that natural balance of wanting to do something and being completely content about what I was doing in the moment. At some point my pure desire to experience the truths of life, was replaced with the fear of the future.  I fearfully tried to prepare against it.  I worked hard, long days for hardly any money.  In fact, after working 60 plus hours for years,my restaurant closed and I owed money.  No closer was I, to being fearless (said in Yoda's voice).

I remember being read stories of Brer Rabbit as a young boy, growing up in Durham.  I remember the Tar-Baby and how, through his rage motivated efforts, he managed to get himself completely stuck.

Lots of kids, perhaps, came away with a clear message concerning race relations in the south.  I remember thinking ol’ rabbit was working too hard.  If he would just focus on the Bear necessities….oh wait, that’s a different story. Anyway the lessons  and messages were all around me, “Don’t worry, and don’t work too hard.”  Yet, the exact opposite message was also drumming louder and louder, every school year it seemed, “Work harder and be MORE concerned with the future and what others think you ought to be doing.”  As most of the people espousing the latter philosophy were adults, I dived headfirst into the world of expectations, effort and pride. They were adults after all, they must understand how this life thing is done, right?  Wrong.  Like ‘ol Brer Rabbit I got stuck.  Covered in other people’s ideals, beliefs and goals. The fact is the less you find yourself having to “work” at something, the more likely you are to have a desirable outcome.  Especially if your desired outcome is happiness.

I suppose I need to clarify.

Work is good.  In this life there are certain things that need to  be accomplished if you want to live. You need to hunt buffalo, build your home and collect the firewood (There is a good chance these particular chores will be less relevant by the time you read this). There is some amount of effort needed on your part for simply surviving.  We humans though, we have really upended our garden of ‘Eden’.  I have done it.  Working 40 plus hours a week at  a job we barely  tolerate, pursuing people who barely tolerate us. We’re assured this is how things are accomplished. “Keep at it.” we are told, over and over again.

I remember breaking up with my first ‘real’ girlfriend.  Not the first time I had sex, but the first time I had lived with someone and shared the intimacies of daily life.  I’d say the first woman I ever loved, but I think she was right in the end, I did not love her.  The break up was heart (ego) wrenching and dramatic, at least for me, but we agreed the break-up needed to happen.  She moved far away but for some reason I felt like I needed to pursue her. I guess I had determined that the relationship had only failed because of my lack of effort.  I was sure that I wanted her back, though not completely sure why.  I remember talking to my mom and her saying, “Drew, if you love her, you’ve got to follow her. Go tell her how you feel!”, or something like that.  So, with my mother’s feminine endorsement and financial backing I called the ex to tell her, in my most failing, wobbly and self-possessed demeanor, “I am coming to see you!”  Expecting the afore experienced acquiescence she replied curtly, “Drew, don’t”.  Our relationship did not end as storybooks do.  All the life coaches, who called for effort filled with effort were unceremoniously knocked from their displays. I no longer believed  in the power of effort.  

My Dad used to say, “Son, there is the easy way and then there is the hard way.”  I am not sure he knew what that would come to mean to me.  I don’t put a lot of effort into anything, really, these days. Is that what he meant?  I just do things…...slowly usually. The ancient Celts used to speak of the importance of the Bradan not ‘pushing the river.’  In other words, don’t peddle downhill.  Know when to rest, and when to let things pass by.  Know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em.  Or, as another linguistically challenged poet once wrote, “Que sera, sera.”  Whatever will be will be.  You know what?....... that’s all true, kind of.  I would urge you to ‘do’.  Intend, create and work.  It is satisfying to the soul, if done correctly, and in the right spirit. There are times, though, when all the effort in the world will not change anything. There is a balance to be found in there, somewhere for you. It’s your personal rhytym.  Always do your best and find that rhythm, dear one.  Dance that crazy little dance.  Not the Tar-Baby dance, that one is really boring, unsatisfying and requires a tremendous amount  of clean-up. Try that robot-surfer one you do, that one seems pretty cool.

Bargain Summer

A summer to remember is what this summer has been.  Not because we went to Disneyland, Wild Waves, Hawaii or anywhere that cost any money.  It was not awesome because we went on a 10-day hike, pet a Grizzly bear went river rafting.  It will be remembered, at least by me, as a great summer because we spent it together, and it was the summer before you officially started school.

We have done some pretty cool things though, albeit they we mostly free and local.  Remember that bike ride we took down the Western Chehalis, where we saw that owl and ate lunch by that pond

which had all those lily pads?  Remember when we were riding over I-5 with all those ‘hills’ screaming “I am getting freezing!!!” and how you got caught up in the moment and forgot to break, blowing through roundabout? How about that hamburger we ate after we spent the day out on the beach?  Or how about our hike down to the sound where you crossed your first ‘log bridge’ by yourself.

We are lucky enough to have a neighborhood pool, and this was the ‘summer of swim’.  We went almost every day.  It the first year that you swam in the deep end and could touch the bottom.  Just last night you swam to the bottom of the pool and grabbed a toy from the floor of the deep end.  There is such joy in your eyes when we swim together.  The swimming goggles I bought myself were well worth their exorbitant price of 18 dollars, just to look into your goggles and see them filled with bliss and just a little water.  Thumbs up, whale cries and underwater death stares were all part of the fun this year.  Momma probably wouldn’t love the lifeless and limp pose I taught you, as you silently float to the floor of the pool but it feels kind of peaceful doesn’t it?  A nice palate cleanser, if you will, for the times when I launch you into the air.

It’s been a cheap and fantastic Summer with you Owen.  Making my current lack of money well worth it.  In fact, all the driving together on the weekend, as I try and get my yard sale hustle on was pretty awesome too.  All the people we met, all the homes we have driven past countless times wondering, “what type of folk live there?”  I have lived in a lot of places, just in this town, and it was cool to share those places and kind of reconnect with this town with you.  

We will be going on large hikes, epic water slides, fantastical theme parks and beautiful islands.  Some of these things we will be doing rather soon.  It is good to know that we can be so satiated with the simple things, isn’t it?  Isn’t it reassuring that life can be blissful, even with the simplest of activities or sometimes with no activity at all?

I hope you have enjoyed our bargain rate Summer, this last one before you start school. I know I have enjoyed it, beyond measure.  I am going to try and figure out some sort of employment scheme that will allow me to continue this shared experience, because I can’t imagine not spending Summers with you.

Mattress Over Mind

“Alert!  Alert!”

You said this as you got ready for bed last night and looked in the mirror (It’s interesting to  see what our emotions look like, right?). You seemed to be practicing the look of ‘apprehension’, like you practice your air kisses and winks.  As if you were practicing an essential social skill.   From  your stolen glances over my shoulder at my Facebook feed to the forgotten, cranked-up car stereo blaring out the news, “...children murdered….” as I turn the ignition, it surely must appear that the whole world is on the brink of destruction.

We don’t watch T.V. at our house.  We watch Netflix only.  This means that we control what you see at home, to a large extent.  That has been  your Mother and I’s intention.  We want the home to feel secure to you, a safe and cuddly place.  I hope it does, though I am not sure the video cameras and alarm system add or subtract fear in the ‘comfort equation’.  This sphere of control is very limited, I have found out.  The center of the sphere is in the closet, where the Wi-Fi router is.  Outside of that, as soon as we pull out of the driveway….well... it appears as if almost anything goes in this wacky, wacky world.

I remember when you were four, and your protective and thoughtful Fother took you for our first fother/son haircut at a real barber.  You know, the one without the ‘car chairs’ and with all the ‘dark skinned guys.’  Everything was going well, your haircut complete.  You sat on the chair and watched me get my haircut.  Then you saw the television.  Then I saw the television.  I figured with so little hair to cut, I would be done in minute or so.  I neglected to predict the inordinate amount of ‘over buzzing’ and body hair removal  my barber would feel it necessary to augment my slightly unnecessary haircut with.  You then saw one of the most horrifying scenes television has ever given us: The Charlie Hebdo shooting in Paris.  Certainly one of the most confusing thing a four year old could see.  I literally laughed out loud at the futility of  your parent’s efforts, as the gunmen walked down the road killing people. The screen displayed it’s wide spectrum of rage and you openly soaked it up. I laughed with disbelief as the barber stared, with you, in solemnity.

This world has so many scary things in it.  So many opportunities for you to give up on it, on us and on the whole thing.  When this happens, I have only one piece of advice: take a nap.  Perhaps a wiser person would urge you to meditate and touch your Godliness within.  “What is so great about a nap?” you may ask. It stops you from thinking.  Regardless of what adults may tell you, thinking will not bring you peace or joy.  It will not alleviate the fear.

“Stop thinking, and end your problems.” -Lao Tzu, 550 BCE

“Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?”  -Jesus

“Take a nap.  I always feel better after a  nap”  -Dad

Turn off the “Alarm, Alarm!” clock and check out for a bit. After you are well rested, maybe then you can work on creating some more sweetness in this world of ours.

I hope this helps.

People, Let Me Tell You...

I am going to be a man that loves you regardless of what you do.  I am going to be the man who tells you that you are acting selfish, mean, lovingly and beautifully. I am going to be what so many parents have warned me NOT to be. I am going to be your friend Owen, whether you realize it or not. Whether you like it or not. Whether you understand it or not.  Whether you notice, or not. Whether we even see each other, or not.

I think people have a misconstrued idea of what it means to be a friend.  I think they think it means someone who supports them in any decision they may make.  A person who is expected to hold them up and assist them in taking the next step, regardless of what it is.  Not me, I’m gonna let you struggle sometimes.  Some seem to believe that to disagree with a friend, is not to be acting friendly. Not me, you will know that I disagree with a decision you have made, if it affects others in negative way.  Some folks believe that being a friend means that your significant other will never implement boundaries, rules of engagement or consequences.  I disagree with all of that.  A friend is someone who loves you, wants you to be happy and allows you all the freedom in the world,  as long as you are not harming them or anyone else.  This is the friend you will find in me.

My friendship is flexible and it will grow with you.  I will grow alongside of you offering guidance and support.  When you are ready to grow away, I will be the rustling of the leaves near by, whispering my support for the light inside of you to grow….grow.   Even if we should be great distances apart, you will be able to feel my care, my interest, my desire for you to experience joy.

Of course the subtleties of our friendship will change over the years.  As you get older, move out of house and start out on your own I will have to let you hurt people.   We have to learn about the power of our negative thoughts, actions and non-actions.   Sometimes our actions hurt others through their resistance and their expectations.  Sometimes we hurt others by being thoughtless and unempathetic. As your friend, I will let you go and experience for yourself.

For now though, as you are under my care, you will be able to feel my friendship in the quiet of your room after you are done crying.  When you understand that I took your toys away for my own good, as well as yours.  You will feel it when you are far away with your mother and it appears that I am missing. You will hear it my voice, in years to come, when you remember me telling you,  “Get off of the computer and go read, play outside or draw.” You will remember the time I did not let you get into a car with some friend or go to some party that felt too unsafe and you will know.  You will see it in the scars and chipped tooth and know that  I DID allow you experience many of the negatives of life for yourself.

I am going to be the best damn friend a person could ask for.  That’s my plan.  That’s really the entirety of my plan, as well.  I hope it is enough.  I hope that I can serve you well dear one.

So here’s to a great friendship. Here’s to the fantastic friendship I feel we already have.  Here’s to mutual respect.  Here’s to all the laughs and other stuff.  I am so lucky to count you as a friend.

Fother

Your Father is a Mother

It’s 4:30 am.  I sit here in the semi darkness, drinking some coffee.  Besides the coffee not being Yuban and minus two or three cigarettes, I am re-enacting a ritual my mother (your Grandma) used to perform every single day.  The low glow that illuminates my face is not orange and brightened by breath as I sit on our couch, though.  When you see me first thing in the morning sitting with my laptop and coffee, you’ll notice the dim white light and fresh air which in stark contrast to my Mother’s routine. The upholstery doesn’t  smell like stale smoke, but it certainly smells better since we sprayed some enzymes on this cushion.

Grandma’s birthday has passed. Mother’s Day has just passed.  My mom has passed.  It kind of all came and went.  Since Mother’s Day it has been occurring to me that my Mom, your Grandma Macy(Gillespie), is alive and well in our house.

I don’t mean  she is walking the halls as a smokey aberration.  Rather in almost every action,  I find movements of her, memories and assumed points of view. As I stand at the sink doing dishes, I peer through the smallish window at you playing.  At the stove making mac and cheese and putting laundry out on the line while you play in the sprinkler.  From all these points of view I have seen myself, looking up through the eyes of my child self and I must say, I look a lot like my Mom.

Not until you were born, in fact not until recently, do I find myself having the same the thoughts or same visual experiences that I imagine my mother having when she was raising my brother and I.  Not until recently have I seriously considered that my depressed and alcoholic mother and I shared much of anything in terms of ‘point of views.’

Today, I find myself watching you with her minds eye.  My own mind is filled with the feelings of contented joy and purpose that she must have felt while raising us. The excitement that must have coursed through her veins as Tim and I caught things on fire in the kitchen while she napped.  The profound sadness in her tears when I told her I hated her for not letting me “bob for apples” one summer.  I see, through her memory, the joy of your first water balloon, sprinkler dash and homemade orange juice popsicle.  I remember her smiling as I smile now.

I  remember seeing in her eyes, the same emotion and clarity that I feel when I am with you Owen.  I understand how the loss of this obvious sense of oneness, in the growing and the exiting of our children, must be considered a great physical loss.  

I remember this feeling, I never had, of watching Dad leave for work.  Now, that I am the one who sends off his domestic partner with a “Have a nice day.” and “What would you like for dinner?”  I find that all the years of being raised by my mother at home, with all the passive learning, blossoming inside of me, as I believe ‘Motherhood’ blossomed inside of her.  The ‘home school education’ concerning the routine and rhythms that I would feel so strongly affirmed now.  Something feels right about staying home with you Owen, and doing many of the things my own mother did with and for me.

Was I conditioned to these motherly ways during my lopsided domestic influence, or somehow predispositioned to slide into this traditionally feminine role?  I don’t know. One thing for sure, the ‘stay at home Dad’ is a phenomenon that is growing.  Although it was a little challenging to give up the independence and money that I was making, I find myself utterly content and filled with a real sense of joy when we get  up early in the morning, blast “Eye of the Tiger” or the “Tao of Pooh”.  I Love driving around Black Lake early in the morning, going with you…..anywhere.  I feel a bit feminine and blessed when I am cooking meals for us or when we join up with a bunch of Mom’s for a play date.

I start to understand the loss of self mothers begin to feel when children leave.  I also witness, from this point of view, the pain and sorrow of the traditionally masculine roles the of ‘nine to fiver’. While his job is no more difficult, how painful it must be, to be compelled to leave. There is much less choice and freedom in his day and I can understand the pain and
resentments that exist.

All in all Owen I am very pleased to be your Fother.  I consider it a rare and beautiful opportunity filled with so many role contradictions and creations.  There is nothing that feels more appropriate than this domestic, daily life we share.  It feels strangely familiar and new at the same time.  It is the perfect role for me now and as we look for jobs every morning together I realize that my situation is temporary.  I will not always hear your footsteps coming down the hall, sleepily, to come cuddle up with me first thing.  It is a rare, beautiful time.  I am thankful…..to God, to you, to Moms and beyond.

Leadership

Your dad lacks ambition, Owen. It’s not that I lack drive or a good solid work ethic; it’s just that I don’t need for there to be a particular ‘end game.’ Some people ask me, “Well, what about setting goals?” I set goals; they are just a little more general than others. My goals are contentedness, fullness and happiness. Well, that really gets some people questioning my sanity.

I always thought ‘goal setting’ was a little untrue to the scientific method taught to us early, as a way to determine the truth of any particular function. One of the keys to the success of this process is to refrain from assumption. Not ‘trying to prove’ a theory is taught as an important frame of mind for many professions like science, inventing, exploration, journalism, observation and evaluation. Not limiting oneself to the notions that one can imagine is so important to the function of growth, especially if that growth is to be extraordinary.

I am a good worker. I work hard, with integrity and often assume leadership roles as needed. This has helped to land me jobs as Kitchen Manager, Chef, Sous Chef and various positions in the Food Service Industry that involve being classified as a leader. These days son, I watch as other younger men and women pass by me on ‘The Road of Success’, as it were. Much to the bewilderment of partners and family members, I might add. I am happy to play my part as an informed citizen in the place that I work though. I thought I would try and explain why this is, as some of the people closest to me seem to not understand my philosophy regarding promotions and ambition.

First of all, I believe leadership should be spontaneous, temporary and fleeting. Our society and especially our corporations are built upon the notion that ‘strong, stable leadership’ is the way to strength. Management positions are often vied for, and there are immediate changes in personality when one is promoted… in most cases. And in my case. In almost every instance of my promotions, no matter how cognizant I was of my actions, I changed the way I acted and talked to the people I now supervised. In fact, most companies advise that you change your social interactions with the people you manage. If you used to go out for beers with them, stop. Upon your ‘knighthood’ into management al l of society seems to promote the idea that you are now separate from the others. This ironically dilutes your effectiveness as someone people want to listen to. Retaining the flexibility and relations that got me the promotion in the first place were immediately degraded the moment I put on my title.

I believe leadership should be fluid. The best instances of leadership occur as needed, sometimes by more than one person. I witness ‘group leadership’ daily where I work. Often it seems that the people that are getting paid substantially more than I have the least understanding of what is actually going on where I work. This is a common complaint amongst the working class. In the end analysis, I am not convinced that management positions are any more than a training position. This, if viewed this way, makes perfect sense. How else to really get a feel and appreciation for what everyone is doing, than to step back and get a “super vision” of the situation. I often am reminded of the military training technique that puts a different person in charge for every single training mission. No complacency, no laziness, no assumptions, no guarantees of power and exclusiveness. You are a leader, for now.


So, I don’t take promotion hints and offers these days because I like who I am better as a regular. I feel just as empowered, if not more so with this title. I can say whatever I want and not be responsible for others actions. Why would I want that? Sure more money would be nice, but there are multiple studies out now that prove that after a certain amount of money, happiness is not increased. I have lots of freedom, I make plenty of money and I still assume leadership roles when appropriate….then I slip back into the rank and file, where we all end up eventually anyways. At ease.

Great X-Mastations

Hey there little elfkin. Just wanted to reflect with you, a bit, on your first holiday season. We are now in early January and approaching your first birthday. This is my favorite time of Winter, after Thanksgiving, Christmas and News Years. It is much more quiet, peaceful and generally reminds me more of the Jesus Christ than the weeks previous.

You seemed to enjoy your first Christmas. You kind of got the whole 'open your present' thing, but mostly you were only invested for a minute or two in any one gift. You had little expectation for what Christmas was supposed to be and it was nice to see you so happy. But your amazingly happy most of the time. People comment on it, randomly in the grocery store, family get-togethers and what not. It has only been in the last couple of weeks that I have noticed you crying more when something has been taken away that you were using or interested in.
You cry now when you want something or when something happens that surprises or startles you. This is all fine and well, and totally natural. It is also a little sad. The little creature that seemed perfectly happy just being alive, may be transforming into the little human that we are ALL more familiar with.

A great man, or at least a very good man that I know once told me, "All of life's pain comes from expectation."
He was telling me this as he easily brought me to my knees in some friendly sparring. Though he was using this to demonstrate the ineffectiveness of trying to predict or anticipate an attackers intention, he also brought this notion up when discussing life's more mental and emotional pains. I have found this to be one of the most profound truths in my life. Another profound truth, that seems to run perpendicular to our societies ideas of happiness.

As far as the holiday season is concerned it abounds with expectations. We expect to get some gifts, we are expected to give some. We expect people to smile (even if faked) and tell us how much they like our present. They expect to hear from us how much we loved they're present. We expect to get a 5X7 glossy photo of friends and relatives who otherwise are mute for the year, and they kinda expect us to hang they're likenesses on our refrigerator. We expect the car next to us to LET US IN! We expect there to be ham. There should be wrapping, lights, trees, chocolates and record spending. This is the ultimate time of expectations, ironically at a time when we claim to celebrate the opposite quality. Giving without any expectation is the declared goal, but few of us attain that goal, in fact few of us bother pursuing it. The fact is son, the more I find myself living without expectations from other people, or even myself....the happier I am.

As we come upon your birthday, a son was born on the coldest day of the year January 13th. I will intend to father you with no expectations. I expect I will fail at times with this. Maybe though if I just intend it, with no expectation of failure, I'll be more successful. We'll see I guess. Love you, Pa.

Movement

As I lay in bed, with your Mom's uncles playing to a captive audience just on the other side of the wall, I find it hard to sleep. I also find myself thinking a bit about how different I am from this group. This is fine, and possibly preferable to having and extended Sheldon family that was more like me.

Everyone here, in this rather large group, surfs a lot. Once and sometimes twice a day they go surfing. Yesterday I listened to a story of one of the younger nieces taking the dog out on the board. Rasta is the dog's name, and apparently he stayed up for about 2 minutes. Which is longer than I think I could manage incidentally. Though I don't think I will be trying anytime soon. Everyone comes up to you Owen (as we are here for your Great Grandmother's funeral service and 'everyone' really does mean everyone) and says; "aww....looks like you got yourself a little surfer here." I don't think it will be long before you are out there, paddling out to catch a couple of waves. Not long at all. From the dual-master degree college students to the professional model, everyone surfs here.

As I am up with you early, I see you playing with the paraphernalia of the performance of last night. The used gear is neatly stacked in hard cases, with one left provocatively open. Right now you are fascinated with one of the 20 harmonicas that have been left out....apparently for your enjoyment and education. All of Coral's uncles, and there are 4 of them, play guitars, pianos, harmonicas, and sing with a respectable proficiency. All of them seem to have their own specialization. All of them love to perform. In fact, that is how I met your Grandfather Sheldon, for the first time. He was playing a guitar and singing at a local Olympian restaurant.

And talking. So much talking. Granted there are a lot of people, here in Coos Bay, gathered at the old Sheldon house. With that said, your mother and her father's wife talked for the entire trip here, just the two of them.....for six hours straight....non-stop. This is something your mother occasionally mentions to me as one of her dislikes. The fact that I don't talk that much on car trips drives her crazy, and i think she thinks it means we aren't "living". I see now, what I am being compared to. This place was like a bee's hive the other night. You and I retired early for the evening, as we fell asleep to hum of the jabber. This is a fine thing, it is just not my cup of tea.


I am struck by how different I am from this group. I prefer quiet evenings, quiet mornings and dry land. I am not nearly as theatrical or entertaining. I have tried to be these things and had mild successI was in popular boy choirs, at an early age. I sang in an opera, competed on the state level in High School with my voice and sang in a rock band, for a brief time. But these days, I would rather listen to the wind blow or talk radio. I understand the value of such people in your life, Owen. It is a good example to express yourself freely and without shame. Though I sing to you, quite a bit, I don't suppose that I will be whipping out any instruments any time soon.

I plan on teaching you some things, most of which I have no idea what they will be, but I think my offerings to you will be much different than what I am seeing here.
The piece of paper stuck on the late Great Grandma Dixie's refrigerator admonishes to "Never...stop moving." This seems to be the conventional, and widely acclaimed wisdom of the day. Perhaps even the mantra for most of civilization, for the last several generations. One could argue though, that it is this quest for constant movement and growth that has gotten us into predicaments we find ourselves. I guess I will be the family member to urge you to find the silence, the stillness, the emptiness in your mind and cherish it. I can attest to you that peace and happiness can be found there. It is not as flashy, it is not as much fun, perhaps, but it is another, valid path to contentment. The only one that really worked for me. With that said, learn an instrument if you desire. Almost all of my friends, it seems, play an instrument or two. Be theatrical if you wish, many great stories can be passed on this way. Be whatever you want to be, but know it's ok to be different than what is prevalent.

Wememberence Two

I am going to talk to you Owen, about your Grandma Macy; Penelope (Peni) Jean Gillespie. July 14th 1949 (i think) was when she was born, and she died at the age of 56. She died very young, in this day and age of science and medical miracles, and she died before she got to meet you. I know for a fact she would have absolutely melted at seeing you. I know for a fact she loves you, and is caring for you. To not get to see you, her grandchild, is probably one thing she has determined to change next time around.

Peni was born in Winnipeg Canada and traveled with her family down to California. I hope her other son, my brother Tim will correct me if I am wrong in any of this. In West Covina she went to high school and worked full time eating large quantities of 'Kraft Macaroni and Cheese' late in the evening, before going to be for school the next morning. Kraft Mac and Cheese would go on to be a staple in the Macy household, for two more generations...perhaps longer. Mom had 3 brothers and 3 sisters, a mother and an alcoholic/abusive father. The bit about the father is based on stories from her, but also seems entirely possible. Mom was born after World War Two and everyone was just starting to deal with the psychosis that war leaves behind as it's fruitand seed. Peni met Marshall sometime in California, she was 18 or nineteen, I believe. Dad was serving in the Coast Guard and they would meet during his leaves. They fell in love, and bore two children.

My first memory of Mom is that of being loaded on the back of a bicycle, mom and I pedaling into the warm air. I can remember the smell of the new bicycle tires, I can vaguely remember the sights. I remember the feeling though, so strongly, and I think these feelings are responsible for my life long appreciation for the bicycle.


I remember mom cooking mac and cheese for me in Texas, and sending me into the living room with a big dill pickle to suck on, while I watched Electric Co. I remember Mom looking down on me from a window of our apartments in Florida, as I negotiated a fight in parking lot. Emboldened by her 'presence' I declared, "My mother will kick your Ass." Looking back for confirmation, all I saw was her silhouette shaking it's head from side to side. I remember Mom breaking down and buying Tim and I a 'Slip and Slide'. I remember her throwing my first and only birthday party. It was awesome.
I remember Mom holding me in her lap as she drove me to the hospital after falling out of an U.S.Army truck whose tailgate was Not latched closed.


After the divorce from Dad, Mom went to school full time, worked full time and provided for Tim and I in a way that was truly remarkable, providing us with not only food and shelter, but with an Apple IIc, and relatively fashionable clothes. Against a lot of momentum, Mom fought her way back to upper middle-class, buying a house, starting her own business and eventually helping me to buy a restaurant.


Grandma Macy was the best mother a kid like me could have asked for. So many of my life skills I learned from her, because she thought it important that I do my own cooking, laundry and cleaning. She taught me to stand up for myself, and she also stood up for me. Like the time when we moved from Tallahassee to Durham, N.C. and the my new teacher would paddle me in front of the class everyday for asking her to repeat herself, as I did not understand a single word of 'southern drawl'. A letter sent to her by that teacher, explaining the reasoning behind my public humiliation was spellchecked, misspelled words circled and graded with a big, fat, red ink "F".

For my childhood and much of my adult life, my mother has been a hero to me. A fighter with such raw courage as to make anything seem feasible. The world seemed comfortable and safe to me, largely due to her. I love her very much, and know she would have LOVED to meet you.


In the latter years, her and I had some rough times. The relationship of Son/Mother fractured a bit and a real rift formed between us. If you want, someday we can talk about the last part of her life. For now know she was Irish and without a doubt, one of the best cooks I have ever had the privilege to be served by. And, she was a fantastic Mother!!! Those three things should be enough for you to begin with. Maybe we'll talk some more over some King Taco Salad.

Ma

A long time a ago, I owned and ran a restaurant in downtown Olympia. It was a quaint vegetarian/seafood place, with a focus on locally grown and organic foods. With the help of my mother, my girlfriend and several other friends I was able to own and operate my own business for 3 years. Then we had to close shop, due to a lack of income, ...well technically that is.



The failure of the Pleasant Peasant Restaurant and even the opening of it were driven largely by fear. I was fearful that if I did not take the opportunity to buy the restaurant at that moment it was presented, that I would not have another chance to do so. I was afraid that If I did not come up with some sort of economic plan that I would end up in poverty for the rest of my life. I was afraid that my family and peers would look at me as a failure, if I did not do something with my life that 1.) changed the world. 2.) made me a little renown. Towards the end, the financial fears were cumulative and completely dispiriting.


Perhaps if I had managed to work some sort of goal relating to the monetary success of the business, I would still be working there. Actually, I lacked lots of prerequisites for operating a viable company. Mostly though, I wasn't convinced that I was where I wanted to be. In the end I ended up accomplishing both goals, though not in the way I had anticipated.


This morning your mother and I are headed to a breakfast potluck. This is the second of gatherings that aim to reunite everyone involved in what was, in the end, a respectable attempt to change the world for the better. We all had our various takes on what we were doing, and I think we affected our local world in a positive way, generally speaking. There will be ex-girlfriends, old flames and old conceptions present, I am sure. The caliber of the people attending though, ensure these to be in passing. At one time though, at least for me, some of these people evoked heady emotions and in some cases anger and confusion. It is by these kind people's grace (and mine as well I suppose) that we all meet, in what I suspect will be harmony.


I wanted to make special note of your mother, Owen. Who for the past year or so has shown a lot of trust and patience in agreeing to accompany me to the various
functions that have reunited me with so many people from my past. She has shown graciousness and true friendliness in situations that I would find VERY challenging. So, know this about your mother......she is a kind, loving soul who has sacrificed much of her comfort, to aid both you and I. It is up to us to let her know it is appreciated.

Wholeness

Dear Owen,

I would like to take a moment to talk about Spirituality. A bit of a slippery subject to tackle, but i think an essential part of being a happy human. Some folks seem to get through life just fine without a belief in an unseen, unifying force giving all of life an impetus to connect with itself. I am not one of these people. Either a genius or a fool, it matters not to me that others may judge my belief in a God. Many have no idea if what I mean when I say the word 'God'.



In my life, I have had several instances where I was utterly confused and felt alone. Perhaps you will not have this problem. I think it is possible not to need to experience this illusion, but perhaps it is a common experience we must all share. When I have found myself in these situations; lonely, sad and anguished, I have called out to the vast emptiness of the starry Universe......and it answered me back. Sometimes with a shooting star, sometimes with a call from a relative or friend. There was an unseen connective 'tissue' that was so faint I forgot it was there. Whether chemical or physical in some other way, the best way for me to describe this connection is to call it 'Whol-e Spirit.' A loving presence in my life, that has always been with me, even if I ignored it.

One book that has helped me the most, to comprehend what I felt to be true about this Oneness, is Conversations with God by Neale Donald Walsch. It is a fantastically easily read description of a cosmology that I subscribe to, almost completely. I don't know why the author's long, wavy grey hair bugs me....but it does.
If you can get past the author's cover, the philosophy within is lovely. If you ever feel bad about yourself, about what you have done, not done or are dismayed with the world, I would recommend you open this book up. There are several books in this series, and I come back to them again and again. So much hope offered.

As a plant follows the sun, so too should we have 'intention'. This is also called 'Spirituality'. A dirty word among some intellectuals. Yet, there is a truth that we are a part of, that is much bigger than us. So big it may be hard to see. That, at times, may seem as far away from us as a star. We are connected to that bright star, though. As the great scientist Carl Sagan said,

"....we are literally made from star stuff."

It seems that younger folks have a much more solid understanding of this truth of oneness. As if this is a foregone conclusion. Perhaps you will not need a book such as this. That would be an advancement for the species, I presume.

Welcome to the World Dear One

Hello Owen. I am your Father....your Pa. I became your Pa officially on January 13, 2010. I was there, for the whole thing. I saw your brave mother, Coral, usher you into this world. Her mother was there, a woman named Diksha and several other women. They were all mothers and each one cared for you as you came into the world. I hope that you feel this care and concern for you, your entire life...for I will always have it for you to draw on.

The last couple of days you have been rolling about the floor. I have cleverly named you 'RollinOwen'. You shoot your right arm up and slightly behind you like a bull rider and your massive round head follows. For the last couple of mornings, it's the first thing you do in bed.

You sleep with your mother at night and you and I sometimes take naps together. You like to lay on my chest. I have and I believe you will have a broad chest. You almost certainly will fall asleep, shortly after I place you there. I then roll you to the side and go play some video games. I check on you about every 20 minutes to make sure you are still breathing.

Your Uncle Tim, my brother, gave me the idea to start writing a blog for you. So that you may understand how you became you. I will try not to embarrass you too much. This blog will largely be about my issues and how they might relate to you. Maybe you will find it helpful.

I am 41 years old, what many consider half-way done with this life here on Earth. I am not sure I believe that, but I have been around for some time now and I know this; Life is Spectacular. There is so much to see, so much to understand, so much is at your fingertips. This is especially true for you. You are EXTREMELY fortunate to have caring parents, food shelter and clothing. You live in a day and age where information and knowledge is readily available, and practically instantaneous. It has not always been this way.

As you come into this world, beginning to perceive it's wonders, you'll notice things that seem 'not quite right'. AS we speak, humans have punctured a hole into the very body that sustains them, injuring themselves quite severely. We seem to have an insatiable appetite for everything. When you see examples of this, please remember that there is also peace and beauty here. Sometimes you just have to wait a bit for it.

We waited to have you....and now you are here. You have brought a lot of laughter and pleasure to my life. Some say that babies bring joy.....I do not agree. I had joy before you came, but now I have someone to share it with. I get moments of fear, fleeting as they are, concerning your future.....but mostly I am honored. I look forward, very much, to getting to know you. I Love you, and Welcome.