Volume Up! How great is this! ‘Tis the Season.
Notes: 1) Lori, thank you for sharing! 2) Post title from lyrics and music by Redbone: Come and Get Your Love (1974) (Don’t miss their video on Soul Train)
Tag: Son
That blank page…just laying there. Daring you to write on it.
Highly (Highly) recommended. (On Netflix now)
An excerpt:
She had these ethnic features, coal-black hair, Italian olive skin, and when she was young, she wore that red lipstick that was very fashionable in the 50’s. And she’d be looking down at me with a look that, for me, was like the grace of Mary, you know? Made me understand for the first time, how good it feels to feel pride in somebody that you love, and who loves you back. She let that town know that we are handsome, responsible members of this shit-dog burgh, pulling our own individual weight doing what has to be done day after day. We have a place here that we have earned. And we have a reason to open our eyes at the break of each day and breathe in a life that’s steady and good. Now, my mom was truthfulness, consistency, good humor, professionalism, grace, kindness, optimism, civility, fairness, pride in yourself, responsibility, love, faith in your family, commitment, joy in your work, and a never-say-die thirst for living, for living and for life.
~ Bruce Springsteen, describing his Mother
and another…
Your life laying before you like a blank page. It’s the one thing I miss about getting older, I miss that beauty of that blank page. So much life in front of you. Its promise, its possibilities, its mysteries, its adventures.
That blank page…just laying there.
Daring you to write on it.
~ Bruce Springsteen, 69
Riding I-95 North and South. Empty Nest. (Not)
It’s 1:35 a.m. I’m up. What’s that kid’s tune? How does it go? Head and shoulders knees and toes. Knees and toes. I wiggle my toes, roll over in bed to my other side. Beyond fatigue. Restless. It all aches. Get up and write about it.
560 miles. 4.5 hours down on I-95 S to Washington, D.C. 5.25 hours back in heavy traffic. Three hours in between clearing out Eric’s apartment and filling a U-haul. Who said girls accumulate more sh*t than guys? Clothes. Shoes. Shoes. Shoes. Box Spring. Mattress. Headboard. Television. Couch. Chair. Dresser. Boxes and more boxes and more boxes. Five flights of stairs. I’m too old for this sh*t.
It started at 5:15 a.m. yesterday. No, that’s not correct. We moved him in almost 2 years to the day. Job in DC. Girlfriend in D.C. Followed by break-up with girlfriend four months ago. No reason given. We loved her. He bristled upon any query. Someone who had become a welcome addition to the Family, Gone. Sad, really.
And it was but a few weeks after we learned of the break-up (via Facebook status change), Dad started in on his Son.
Your job enables you to live anywhere? Why sink $2,000 into rent every month?
Your Mom would love for you to come home.
We’ll get a puppy, really, if you come home.
I’ll knock the wall out between your old room and your sister’s room. You’ll have a giant suite!
Think of the money you’ll save if you move back home. You’ll be able to afford that travel you so love to do.
Did you talk to your Boss about changing your base location to NY?
Are you still paying $2,000 a month rent? On your salary, how do you save any money? Continue reading “Riding I-95 North and South. Empty Nest. (Not)”
this feeling…unspoken and unacknowledged and invisible
Michael Chabon, in his new collection of autobiographical essays, “Pops: Fatherhood in Pieces”…shares various insights into fatherhood…In one essay, he recalls a recent visit to his own father…The older man was recovering from an illness, and the two lay on a bed and watched a movie together in silence. It took Mr. Chabon back to his own childhood, when they often sat together quietly watching movies… The realization made him more conscious of the importance of sharing such time with his own children: Just being together was valuable. “That makes me look more mindfully at moments where I’m sitting on a couch with my daughter watching shows on HGTV,” he says. “I’m sitting here and she’s sitting there and she puts her feet up on my lap.” “…this feeling,” he says, “that this is a way that I experience love…that is unspoken and unacknowledged and invisible.”
~ Alexandra Wolfe, edited from Michael Chabon Wants to be a Good Father (WSJ, June 8, 2018)
Riding Metro-North. With Aglets & Eyelets.
Irritated.
I’m not going to lay down words here about my non-eventful walk to the train station, the brooding weather (light rain), what morning train I’m running to catch, or what day it was. Dross. Who cares?
No. I’m not going to spew my wonder (disgust) as to how it’s possible, on the 3rd train of the morning (pre-6am) to be standing. Standing, Again, on a 56 minute ride to Grand Central. There are worse things you ingrate. Hmmmmm….possibly one or two things worse.
I carve out my less-than-a-square-meter of space in the vestibule, among the other Unfortunates. I set my bag down, and grab the stainless steel pole. Relax. Take a deep breath DK. Look at the others around you, in exactly the same situation, yet remain poised, calm, accepting.
And then there’s you.
Unmoored by a slight ripple of inconvenience, and your mind is chattering, battering, judging. Me vs. Me, both sides punching. This whole meditation thing, is just not there, not in the wiring. It’s like you wish you had copper piping running through the entire house, but it’s plastic. It will always be plastic. It will only ever be plastic. So accept ‘that.’ Continue reading “Riding Metro-North. With Aglets & Eyelets.”