An Inspirational Moment

Sometimes you just have to go with the flow.

I'm not a religious person, and you won't hear me saying “It's God's will” or anything resembling it, but when deaths and layoffs happened at the same time I was in for a ride with the aftermath. It was like getting my slate wiped clean to start over again. I decided to embrace the changes, listen to my inner voice, and then unexpected things started to happen.

I've come to the conclusion that for the most part I don't have control over my life. I may think that I do sometimes, but for the most part, life seems to be driving me. But before you say to yourself “Dan you're so full of crap” let me tell you this, if someone would have told me that a series of events would result in me staying at home running the household while my wife goes back to school a couple of years ago I wouldn't have believed it. But one thing lead to another and life guided me down the path that I'm now traveling. I suppose I could have fought the changes and tried to force some other kind of outcome, but I don't think it would have lead to a better outcome. Staying at home washing kids cloths is a drag, but I also am able to do things that let me be creative, and to help others.

So how does railing about how politicians that are really Coneheads fit into the “help others” category? Sometime pointing out the lunacy of a situation makes people think about it. When we take a step back and think, then magic starts to happens. Sometimes the “Oh shit!” moment happens, and a realization that the world is a more messed up place than anyone could have ever imagine. At this point, we can either become alcoholics and drown out the world, or decide on how we can all by ourselves make some sort of positive difference. The way I started doing this was by doing a self assessment.

I took a good look at myself and wrote down what I really love to do, my passions, my strengths, and the things I'm obsessive about. Being obsessive about something is important to me because if I don't have a drive to do something, then I'll stop doing it. If something is too painful to do then I won't do it well. If only I could use that excuse to get out of washing dishes, or changing the Guinea Pig cage. I'll never admit to doing a good job of cleaning animal cages.

One day many years ago something clicked in my head and I decided I wanted to be a writer. I had atrocious spelling, and had to re-teach myself most of what I blew off in school. Years ago when I was in the military I took a couple of composition courses through University of Maryland that helped me get back on track, and then I started self-teaching myself how to write. Now I compulsively tap away at my computer to give myself personal enjoyment, and hopefully some of what I write may actually help someone. I put my passion for technology to work in other ways, by helping friends with their problems, and helping my veterans group by building them a web site. I've just started working on it, and will turn it loose on the world in the near future. Most of the members of this veterans group are technologically challenged, so by doing something that I enjoy and is relatively easy for me to do, I get to help this group reach out to help many more people. It's not that hard to make a difference in our messed up world if you are doing something you love to do.

Going with the flow, not fighting things that I can't control, and putting my heart and soul into the directions that seem natural are bringing me down the ever changing path in a way that I feel good about. I'm not sure about what's around the corner, but I'm sure it will be an adventure. Hopefully there is a dish washing, cage cleaning robot in it, I can only hope.

Pack Your Bags

On the advice of a nurse I did pack my bags, I heard him speak in the background.

They were the last words that I ever would hear, but I didn’t know.

I packed in a rush, my heart was so low, and I kissed my family goodbye.

I drove on the road, the snow covered road over mountains in the dead of the winter.

My mind was racing, there was nothing I could do, and the end, was rushing forward.

I drove through the gate, with emotions that were put down.

My sister, her husband, the last caretakers of the man who cared for me.

I worked up my courage to walk down the stairs to the room where the man lies.

Each step a labor, a helpless labor.

He looked comfortable there with his bed raised up, although closed were his eyes as he breathed.

One finger he had placed into the corner of his mouth, like a child sleeping.

I sat down beside him, and put his hand in mine, and told him that he was loved.

I could feel a slight grasp, so I knew that he had heard me say goodbye.

The room was so calm, peacefulness hung in the air.

His labored breathing was steady, but gurgling meant his time was near.

I had seen this before with my sister years passed, it was her birthday the day before.

The man was talking that day and had no sense of time, but he knew of his daughter’s birthday.

“How did you know of her birthday today?” He was asked.

“Because she told me” he replied.

With this I did know, he was going to go, with those that would show him the way.

We are now all alone, my sister and I. Our families are closer than ever.

I still pick up the phone to call home to the father that was always there.

My Father's Revenge

10 funny things to do or not that will drive your adult children crazy after you die, or sitting on a cloud laughing your butt off at the show.

My father passes away a while back, he had a house in Portland Oregon and some of his last words to my sister and I was about his house. He smiled at me and said “it’s going to be a chore” and he wasn’t kidding…

My father had been plotting to get back at us for the headaches we gave him over the years, and we just didn’t know it. After we all arrived at the house that my sister and I had inherited (to assess the size of the chore, and to find the hidden bars of gold), we found that we did indeed have a chore. I was going to learn how to be a handy man whether I wanted to or not. We’re still looking for the gold. It’s got to be around here someplace.

If my dad had made a to-do list for his revenge it would have looked something like this:

1. Don’t put an exhaust fan above the stove. 40 years of accumulated bacon grease on the kitchen ceiling is handy. One of the door hinges in the house might start to squeak, or you might want to fry up some eggs. You just can’t have too much bacon grease.
2. Don’t throw away that junk mail from 1969. One day that Montgomery Ward’s advertisement featuring lawn chairs will be a collector’s item and the kids will be able to sell it on ebay.
3. Don’t throw away that mobile phone from 1985. You may want to jump start your car sometime and that battery pack would be just the ticket.
4. Do string electrical cords from one end of the house to other. No phone jack upstairs or in the bedrooms? Not a problem, as they make connectors and wires for that. Not enough outlets? Not a problem! That’s why they invented power strips and extension cords. And don’t forget the multi adapters!
5. Do use lots and lots of duct tape to do repairs around the house. (My dad would have fit right in at the Possum Lodge hanging out with Red Green.)
6. Do let possums live in your shed, they make interesting pets and really don’t mind when you move the box they’re sleeping in.
7. Do nail up some wood paneling and leave it there 40 years after the roof leaks and damages the ceiling,
8. Do stuff old socks in the cracks for insulation where cold air is blowing in through the rigged up repair job on a window upstairs.
9. Do cover the puddle of mystery goo on the floor of your old pickup truck with an old T-shirt.
10. And lastly, never, never, never clean or paint your bedroom walls. That layer of nicotine from the 70s when you smoked is a natural insect repellant.

We did find some stashes of treasure; my dad had a philosophy about watches, don’t buy a watch that costs more than $9.95. He always seemed to have a new watch, “all perfectly good, and only $9.95 at Walmart” he would say. We found the can that he kept all of his broken watches, some dating back to a Pre-Walmart time. I’m sure they were still purchased for under $9.95, and none of them were made of gold.

My sister and I loved our dad and we miss him very much. He was a good guy and everyone loved him. He had some lifelong friends that he could always count on, and they were always a source of entertainment for me. So dad, here’s to you, I miss you and I crack open a can of Hamms in your honor.