As evening rush-hour traffic began thinning I made my way out of the house to satisfy the rumbling in my stomach. Chinese food sounded good in that moment, so I made my way to a small take-out place less than a quarter-mile from my house. Maneuvering my way through the busy intersection and into the shopping center parking lot, I pulled into an open spot next to large four-wheel drive Ford pickup. It was a relatively new truck, but showed clear abuse received by many off-road adventures. The suspension system was lifted far beyond typical 4x4 trucks. This truck was clearly trying to mimic the ‘monster trucks’ that used to put on their shows at the Pontiac Sliverdome. Glancing inside the Chinese take-out place, even before I turned off my engine, I could see the likely driver of this unnecessarily large vehicle.
I open the door and heard the chime announcing my arrival to the staff of the establishment. The restaurant is quite small. The dining/waiting area is only large enough for 7 tightly placed tables; 3 four-tops and 4 two-tops were carefully placed in the room. Newspapers were scattered around the vacant tables, left by earlier visitors. The vinyl tiled floor was clean, and the decorations where minimal, just enough to remind visitors that they were in fact in a Chinese restaurant. A large light box hung on the wall above the order window. The photos displaying the dishes were faded to the point where the images were almost indistinguishable from each other. The pictures bore vague descriptions beneath them such as “chicken with broccoli” and “beef with rice and vegetables”. From the door I could see the hurried activity going on in the cooking area. I made eye contact with the wife of the owner of this establishment. She finished what she was working on, and then hurried toward the counter.
Mr. Monster Truck sat at a table digging into a carryout container with a small plastic fork. At a glance the food looked like it might have been an order of General Tao spicy chicken, with white rice. He had a dirty hat on his head. The logo was difficult to read through the grime of oil and sweat. The hat covered up what was unmistakably a mullet. He was clean-shaven, and didn’t appear dirty, other than the hat. He wore a baggy brown t-shirt, and frayed cut-off cargo shorts. On his feet was a well-worn pair of doc marten’s. He sat there quietly eating, reading the section of newspaper that was on his table. He didn’t even look up as I entered the doorway.
Over by the windows, at one of the 4-top tables sat an older woman with an elderly woman, possibly her mother, as their facial features bore some similarity. Both had surprisingly white hair. They were mumbling their conversation to each other. The elder woman had that confused-vacant-pained look in her eyes that those suffering with Alzheimer’s, and other forms of dementia, seem to have.
“Pickup?” said the petite Chinese woman behind the counter.
“Nope,” I replied, “I want to place an order.”
“What you want?”
I placed my order, a number 6, sweet and sour chicken, fried rice, and an egg roll, to go. I don’t think I have ever eaten anything else in a Chinese restaurant in many years. This little place does a good job with this dish, so I see no reason to experiment with anything else. I certainly would not risk trying the bizarrely displayed dishes in the photos that were now above my head as I stood at the counter.
“$6.88” she responded as I handed her my debit card. The card reader required a couple minutes to communicate with whatever other computer it is programmed to speak with. Then the little machine began to slowly grinded out a tiny receipt. As the woman handed it to me, for my signature, she said “ten minute”. I handed the signed copy back to her and headed to an empty 2-top against the wall.
I sat with my back to the wall, at a table nearest the uni-sex restroom and farthest away from the door. I starred vacantly out the floor to ceiling windows. I was watching the traffic in the parking go by the restaurant, and the foot traffic walking by on the sidewalk. In the distance was the road traffic getting steadily lighter as people were reaching their afternoon destinations. I was unable to take my peripheral vision off of the people in the restaurant with me.
The elderly woman reached for three small plastic packets of dark liquid that sat within her reach. “It’s soy sauce,” said the younger white haired woman. “soy sauce.” There was a short pause then “It’s soy sauce, people put it on their rice and stuff.” She explained. “No, you don’t need any, you’re all set.” Mr. Monster Truck stood up, gathered his food containers and made his way to the garbage receptacle. This movement distracts the elderly woman away from the tiny packets of a soy sauce that had intrigued her only seconds before.
As Mr. Monster Truck walked toward the door I noticed the large tattoo on the back of his calf. It appeared to have been a Native American dream catcher design. The marking was quite large; it covered nearly his entire calf muscle; complete with the traditional circular design and collections of feathers hanging from the 9 o’clock, 3 o’clock, and 6 o’clock positions. I watched as he climbed up his vehicle to open the door, then climbed even higher to get into the drivers seat. The bottom edge of his door reached the middle of the window on my passenger door. My mid-sized SUV looked like a child’s play toy next to this inflated truck.
As I wait for my food to be prepared I continued sitting in the uncomfortable chair made of aluminum and worn out foam padding. My eyes focused on nothing really, just starring out the window. I noticed a man and a young boy walking toward the door of the business next to the Chinese restaurant. The man appeared to be in his mid 50’s and the boy was no older than elementary school age. The man wore his hair long and greasy; his beard was scraggly looking. It was questionable whether his shirt and jeans had been washed recently. His well worn sneakers had seen many better days. The boy at least looked clean. That’s when it occurred to me that the business on the other side of that wall is a bar. Did I really just see a man take a little boy, presumably his grandson, into a bar? As I tried to mentally digest the implications of that the man and boy emerged from the drinking establishment escorted by a tall well built young man wearing a bright yellow t-shirt that said SECURITY across the back. Obviously the guy the yellow shirt felt the same about that situation as I did. The older man pulled out his cell phone and punched in a number as the little boy sat on a concrete flower bed.
The elderly woman and her daughter were done eating and began the process of gathering up there stuff toward making their exit. “We don’t need to take the soy sauce with us.” The frustration was obvious in the younger woman’s voice. She pulled the table back to make it easier for the elderly woman to get to her feet. With her cane positioned properly she slowly lifted herself up, being steadied by her dinner companion. She stood, uneasy, as the younger woman picked up the plastic bags filled with containers full of their left-over’s. “No, we’re all set; we don’t need to take the soy sauce with us.” The half dozen steps from their table to the door seemed to take an eternity. As they reached the door a hurried young man got their just before them. He held the door and patiently waited until they cleared the door way. The look in his eyes was anything but that of patience. He was in a hurry and these old women were slowing him down. He was dressed in a warm-up suit, as if having just come from the health club down the street. He was being polite, and feigning being a gentleman. But he clearly wanted these ladies to pick up the pace.
A young boy, clearly the son of the woman who took my order, met the health club guy at the counter with a couple bags full of carry-out. “Are you the sweet and sour chicken, sweet and sour pork.” said the boy stopping because he was interrupted. “Yeah carry-out for Swift.” Did he really just say his name was Swift? I thought to myself. The credit card machine was taking far to much time for Mr. Swift’s liking. After scribbling his name on the slip he hurried his way back out the door at breakneck speed. He chose not to hold the door for another pair of ladies that was nearly at the door. Watching him burst from the door I failed to notice the boy set another plastic back with my food on the counter. My eyes were stuck on this odd pair walking into the restaurant.
The women walking in the door were unmistakably related. They had to be a mother and daughter; they had almost identical face separated by 25 years of age. They had identical faces, but their bodies couldn’t have been more different. The older woman was no taller than five foot three, and petite. It would seem unlikely to me if this woman weighed more than 125 pounds. She was jabbering away on her cell phone, and was clearly to busy to help her daughter with ordering their food. The daughter was huge, in comparison to her mother. The younger woman was no less than 6 foot 3, and built like she could play center for the local NFL team. She was a large, there is no way she was tipping the scales at anything less than 350. She was a very handsome woman. Out the window I noticed a middle-aged woman hurriedly approach the grimy old man and little boy. The boy clearly recognized her and gave her a hug; she hugged him back. The woman directed some short words at him, an anger face, and an accusing wagging finger in his face. She left with the boy, and the greasy man went back into the bar. The mans head hung low, I don’t think this was the first time he’d had that conversation with her.
I didn’t hear what the large woman and her mother ordered, as I was trying to imagine what words were being exchanged outside. I wonder if the boy was understand that his grandfather has a drinking problem. I wonder if he even understands what that means.
“Hey, did you order a sweet & sour chicken combo?” the boy behind the counter said to me, pulling me from my speculation.
“Yes,” I replied “I did.”
“Here you go.” He held up my bag. “You already paid, right?”
“Yes, I did. Thanks.” The door chimed again as I opened it to leave and head home.
2009-05-13
2009-05-02
Sunset at Bodega Head
A Short Story
Bruce and his son Bode walked together down the heavily wooded path toward the clearing, and what looked like a cliff. Bruce was broken and had already given up. The gate and pace of his walking reflected his broken spirit. The past several months had been excruciating for Bruce and he had discovered what is meant by rock bottom.
Bruce’s vice had been poker since before college. His game was No Limit Texas Hold ‘Em. There was a time when he had great success, but he’d hit a long dry-spell. After burning through his family’s life savings, he began sinking deep into debt financed by some very violent men. One afternoon, they came calling to collect on the money that they were owed.
It was a pleasant early spring afternoon. Bruce had taken the day off work to take Bode to his kayak lesson. Kayaking was Bode’s newest obsession. Bruce’s wife Maureen was home alone when two large, muscle bound, men calmly knocked on the front door. When Bruce arrived home, just before dinner, he found the family room destroyed. Bookshelves were knocked down, tables were overturned, and lamps and knick-knacks were strewn about. In the corner, beneath the overturned recliner, was Maureen’s beaten and broken body. Even though he was dozens of miles away at the time, Bruce knew he was responsible for what had happened to the love of his life.
Maureen was in a coma for eight weeks before her lifeless, brain-dead body was removed from life support. The guilt of this decision accelerated Bruce’s decent into despair. The darkness of this emotional pit overtook over his life. He stopped going to work and soon lost his job. And when he finally lost his house, the last shreds of his self-esteem vanished, as well as even the desire to continue breathing.
It was well past when sundown when the phone rang. Bruce answered it, despite not recognizing the displayed number.
“Hello?” Bruce said with hesitation
“Do you have what you owe me?” the voice asked very calmly
“Who is this?” Bruce knew exactly who it was “ How’d you get this number?”
“I’ve given you a lot more time than most people. I’ve been way to generous.”
“You have, I mean…” he couldn’t hide the fear in his voice “I just need a little more time.”
“I will be by tomorrow afternoon. If you can’t pay, your son will.” The voice threatened. “If you make your son pay your debt, he’ll be seeing his mother by sundown.”
The phone line went silent as Bruce tried, through tears, to beg for more time.
The sun coming through his bedroom window woke Bode. He lay in bed much longer than normal trying to make sense of a very confusing dream. Pulling himself out of bed he walked to the kitchen where his father sat quietly. It looked to Bode like his father was up all night.
The sink was over-flowing with dirty dishes. The table was full of unopened mail, old newspaper, and fast food wrappers. Bruce had spent the last money he had to his name on a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue. Drinking had become the last pleasure he had in this world. Bruce’s head hung low. An almost empty glass clutched in his right hand, and his mobile phone clutched in his left hand.
“Hey Dad”
“Oh,” he stopped and continued with hushed voice. “Are you on the phone?”
“No.” He said thickly as he slowly looking at his son through bleary eyes “What’s up?”
“I had the weirdest dream last night” he said unable to stand still. “You and me were at a beach - I think it was the ocean, but I’m not sure. I was digging into the sand. It was weird. I didn’t know what I was digging for but I knew something was there that would solve all our problems.”
“Nothing is gonna solve our problems, except a bunch of cash.” Bruce slurred.
“But I know it wasn’t money.” Bode started again “It was getting dark, and cold, but I just kept digging. I don’t know where you were, but I think you were around. Anyway, the more I dug the warmer the sand got. I started seeing the bright light just before I uncovered it.”
“Uncovered what?” Bruce’s curiosity was genuinely peaked.
“It was a bright light, kind of golden yellow. It was very warm.” He paused for a moment “I don’t know for sure what it was, but it was beautiful. I felt so good holding it.” Bode beamed.
“Dreams are funny that way. They don’t usually make sense,” Bruce said. “Listen, we gotta talk.”
Bruce laid out the day’s plan, or at least the plan Bruce wanted the boy to know. Bruce was going to show his son a place he and Maureen loved to go together. Bode might even be able to get some kayaking in if the waves cooperated, he told the boy.
“Dad, can I ask you a question?”
“Yeah” replied Bruce
“Did you go to bed last night?”
Bruce just shook his head.
Bode went to his room to get his gear, and met his dad at the car. Bruce grabbed his satchel, which he had packed during the night. He strapped the kayak onto the car’s roof rack, and was ready to go.
As they pulled out of the driveway Bode had no idea that he would never see this house again. Bruce had nothing left except his son in the car with him. The drive would be a long one as they headed toward the coast. If all went as Bruce had planned they’d arrive about 5 p.m., leaving just enough daylight to carry out the plan. During the drive, Bode speculated on what his dream meant and what he had found in the sand. Bruce, engrossed in his own misery, thought only of what lay a head of him. After quite a bit of time passed not listening to his son Bode knew that that his dad hadn’t heard a word he’d said.
“Dad?”
“Yeah.”
“Where are we going?” Bode asked, pulling out a map of the area.
Bruce was forced to come up with an explanation for his son. After a long period of silence Bode figured his question would go unanswered.
“When I was dating your mother, and even for a few years after we were married, we’d go to this little beach we found. It was kind of like our favorite get away. We’d camp there, go swimming, and just…be together” Bruce explained, “Ever since she was attacked, I’ve felt the need to return.”
“Ever since that day I’ve been really sad.” Bruce admitted.
“Yeah I know,” replied Bode. “Me too.”
“Well, this beach is the place that holds my happiest memories of your mom. I want to go there because that is where our lives together began.” Bruce paused deciding how to continue. Bode didn’t respond. He was just listening and staring out the window.
“Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
“Yeah.” Said the boy. “I really miss mom.”
“Me too.”
After a few moments he asked, “Where we are going, what’s it called? Does this place have a name?”
“It is called Bodega Head.” Bruce looked at his son through the rearview mirror. “We named you Bode after this place.”
Bode found the place on the map and said “That’s funny,” looking up at his dad, “there is a place near there called ‘Hole in the head’.” Bruce just nodded in response.
This discovery was followed by a long stretch of silence. The two watched the asphalt ribbon go by and the roadside scenery disappear from sight as quickly as it appeared. Bruce never felt more alone than he did in that silence. He looked at the boy who was now sleeping peacefully in the back seat.
‘How could I have brought my family to this point?’ he thought. ‘Where did I go wrong in my life? I got my wife killed because of my own stupid addiction. She forgave me a hundreds of times over the years, but she can’t forgive me any more. She always had the ability to solve our problems by saying those three words. Now no one can forgive me for this. I took my wife down; now, I’m taking my son down with me.
“Bode, wake up.” His dad said, “We’re almost there.”
It took him a few minutes to wake up, but then Bode said, “We’ve only got a couple hours before the sun goes down. Are we gonna spend the night here?”
“I’m not sure. Let’s just see what happens,” answered Bruce. “I want to get the beach first.”
Bruce parked the car in a small clearing. Bode jumped out almost as soon as the car had stopped. With his satchel over his shoulder Bruce untied the kayak and pulled it down. Together, he and Bode, headed into the woods down a narrow path barely wide enough for them. It was more than a fifteen minute walk through a winding, rough path. They both tripped and lost their footing several times. Finally, they approached a clearing that looked more like the end of a dark tunnel.
Standing at the edge of the cliff they looked out over the massive expanse of the Pacific Ocean. The view was as breathtaking as Bruce had remembered. The memories of this place hit him so fast that he could almost feel their impact physically. On the edge of losing his composure, he pulled himself together to turn down that path that led to the beach.
“Dad?” said Bode with great anxiety in his voice. “What is this place?”
“This is Bodega Head. We’re here.”
“Dad?” Bode sounded agitated now. “This is the place from my dream last night.”
“Bode, lots of beaches look like this. I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.”
“No, this is the same place!” he said. “Come on, we gotta get down there!”
“Slow down!” yelled Bruce. “We have to bring the kayak with us!”
As soon as they reached the sandy beach Bode dropped his end of the kayak and started running. “This is the place!” He shouted, “I gotta find the spot!”
Exhausted in every way Bruce dropped to his knees to put the kayak down, and then sat in the sand. Occasionally he’d look up to see where Bode was, but then his gaze would return to the ground and his thoughts to his misery and guilt. He knew what he had to do. He had to find the strength to get this kayak ready. Bode was down the beach shoveling into the cold sand with nothing but his hands.
Although only a few moments had passed, Bode had at least a half a dozen holes dug. He was on his knees, face down toward the sand, and his hands worked furiously to clear the hole in front of him. Bruce dragged the kayak into position and took the satchel off his shoulder. He set the bag in the kayak and unzipped it. There were only three items in the pack. Bruce reached in and pulled out the .38 Special and a handful of ammunition. Slowly and methodically he loaded the weapon.
Holding the small handgun, he pulled out the handwritten note he had written the night before.
“You took my wife. I won’t let you take my son too.” It said. Looking at his watch he imagined there were likely angry men at his house right at that moment. Stirring him from his dark focus was his son’s voice.
“Dad! Dad! I think I found it!” shouted the boy who was more than a hundred yards away. “Come here! I need help!”
There was still time before sundown. The plan was to be out in the kayak, beyond the breaking waves, to watch the sunset. He could go see what Bode was up to, and still get the plan under way. He carefully put the weapon and note back into the bag then slowly stood and began walking toward Bode.
“This has to be it! The sand is getting warmer!” Bode was getting more and more excited. “I told you this was more than a dream!”
Bode dug into the sand with both hands throwing it all directions. Bruce could see clumps of moist sand flying up above his son’s head as he approached.
Then Bode found what he was looking for. He could see the dark color and the bright gold colored emblem that seemed to glow in the late afternoon sun. Now moving more carefully, Bode gently cleared the sand away from his prize. It was a small wooden box. The surreal nature of this scene was not lost on either Bode or Bruce. The boy lifted the box from the hole almost too amazed to open it. With a deep breath he pried open the lid, slowly lifting the top.
“What’s in there” ask Bruce
“A locket, and a…” He stopped and looked up at his dad.
“What?”
“There’s a note in here addressed to Bruce.” Bode starred at his father’s face.
“Let me see that.” Bruce said as the color drained from his face.
Bruce held the note looking like he’d seen a ghost he unfolded the small piece of stationary. His movements were slow and deliberate, as if fearing what was on the paper. As he began reading, he froze and fell to his knees; then he started to read the note out loud, but got choked up, and was unable to continue.
“This note is from your mom.” He said through tears. “I remember the day she buried this…I had completely forgotten about it.” His eyes drifted back into his memory. “She wanted me to bury one too, but I never did.”
Bode was looking at the locket he pulled from the box. “What does the note say?”
“It says…Bruce, I love you, and I always will.” He paused to take a deep breath, and then continued reading aloud. “We have had our problems, but I want you to know that I forgive you, for everything. There is nothing you can do to make me stop loving you or stop forgiving you.” He was quietly sobbing as he finished reading it. He cried the tears of a broken man.
“Dad, are you OK?” Bode had no idea what to say. His father didn’t answer, “Is everything OK?” Bode asked again.
Bruce nodded his head. “Everything is going to be just fine.” He said quietly.
They both sat quiet in the sand for a long time.
“The sun is going to set soon.” Bruce said, “We need to head out. Are you ready?”
“Sure.”
They walked back along the tide toward the kayak. Bode was a few steps ahead of his father. He reached the boat first and announced, “I wanna sit in front.”
He carefully set the box he found on the floor of the kayak. He took his position and waited for his dad. Working together, they got it out into the tide. Bode jumped in and began pushing the oar into the sand. Once out far enough, Bruce jumped in and began paddling away from shore. He needed to get them out past the opening of the small bay where the water was calmer. It took about a half an hour and quite a bit of energy to reach the desired spot. They sat in silence as the sun neared the surface of the water. It was the most beautiful sunset that Bruce could remember seeing in many years. The sun appeared close enough to the water to make the ocean boil.
“This sunset is amazing.” Bode said, entranced by this show of nature’s beauty. Bruce quietly pulled his handgun from its bag and held it behind his son’s ear, firmly squeezing the trigger. He watched the sun vanish below the ocean’s surface and quietly sobbed. “I won’t let you take him too.” Then he put the barrel of the gun behind his own ear, and pulled the trigger.
Bruce and his son Bode walked together down the heavily wooded path toward the clearing, and what looked like a cliff. Bruce was broken and had already given up. The gate and pace of his walking reflected his broken spirit. The past several months had been excruciating for Bruce and he had discovered what is meant by rock bottom.
Bruce’s vice had been poker since before college. His game was No Limit Texas Hold ‘Em. There was a time when he had great success, but he’d hit a long dry-spell. After burning through his family’s life savings, he began sinking deep into debt financed by some very violent men. One afternoon, they came calling to collect on the money that they were owed.
It was a pleasant early spring afternoon. Bruce had taken the day off work to take Bode to his kayak lesson. Kayaking was Bode’s newest obsession. Bruce’s wife Maureen was home alone when two large, muscle bound, men calmly knocked on the front door. When Bruce arrived home, just before dinner, he found the family room destroyed. Bookshelves were knocked down, tables were overturned, and lamps and knick-knacks were strewn about. In the corner, beneath the overturned recliner, was Maureen’s beaten and broken body. Even though he was dozens of miles away at the time, Bruce knew he was responsible for what had happened to the love of his life.
Maureen was in a coma for eight weeks before her lifeless, brain-dead body was removed from life support. The guilt of this decision accelerated Bruce’s decent into despair. The darkness of this emotional pit overtook over his life. He stopped going to work and soon lost his job. And when he finally lost his house, the last shreds of his self-esteem vanished, as well as even the desire to continue breathing.
It was well past when sundown when the phone rang. Bruce answered it, despite not recognizing the displayed number.
“Hello?” Bruce said with hesitation
“Do you have what you owe me?” the voice asked very calmly
“Who is this?” Bruce knew exactly who it was “ How’d you get this number?”
“I’ve given you a lot more time than most people. I’ve been way to generous.”
“You have, I mean…” he couldn’t hide the fear in his voice “I just need a little more time.”
“I will be by tomorrow afternoon. If you can’t pay, your son will.” The voice threatened. “If you make your son pay your debt, he’ll be seeing his mother by sundown.”
The phone line went silent as Bruce tried, through tears, to beg for more time.
The sun coming through his bedroom window woke Bode. He lay in bed much longer than normal trying to make sense of a very confusing dream. Pulling himself out of bed he walked to the kitchen where his father sat quietly. It looked to Bode like his father was up all night.
The sink was over-flowing with dirty dishes. The table was full of unopened mail, old newspaper, and fast food wrappers. Bruce had spent the last money he had to his name on a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue. Drinking had become the last pleasure he had in this world. Bruce’s head hung low. An almost empty glass clutched in his right hand, and his mobile phone clutched in his left hand.
“Hey Dad”
“Oh,” he stopped and continued with hushed voice. “Are you on the phone?”
“No.” He said thickly as he slowly looking at his son through bleary eyes “What’s up?”
“I had the weirdest dream last night” he said unable to stand still. “You and me were at a beach - I think it was the ocean, but I’m not sure. I was digging into the sand. It was weird. I didn’t know what I was digging for but I knew something was there that would solve all our problems.”
“Nothing is gonna solve our problems, except a bunch of cash.” Bruce slurred.
“But I know it wasn’t money.” Bode started again “It was getting dark, and cold, but I just kept digging. I don’t know where you were, but I think you were around. Anyway, the more I dug the warmer the sand got. I started seeing the bright light just before I uncovered it.”
“Uncovered what?” Bruce’s curiosity was genuinely peaked.
“It was a bright light, kind of golden yellow. It was very warm.” He paused for a moment “I don’t know for sure what it was, but it was beautiful. I felt so good holding it.” Bode beamed.
“Dreams are funny that way. They don’t usually make sense,” Bruce said. “Listen, we gotta talk.”
Bruce laid out the day’s plan, or at least the plan Bruce wanted the boy to know. Bruce was going to show his son a place he and Maureen loved to go together. Bode might even be able to get some kayaking in if the waves cooperated, he told the boy.
“Dad, can I ask you a question?”
“Yeah” replied Bruce
“Did you go to bed last night?”
Bruce just shook his head.
Bode went to his room to get his gear, and met his dad at the car. Bruce grabbed his satchel, which he had packed during the night. He strapped the kayak onto the car’s roof rack, and was ready to go.
As they pulled out of the driveway Bode had no idea that he would never see this house again. Bruce had nothing left except his son in the car with him. The drive would be a long one as they headed toward the coast. If all went as Bruce had planned they’d arrive about 5 p.m., leaving just enough daylight to carry out the plan. During the drive, Bode speculated on what his dream meant and what he had found in the sand. Bruce, engrossed in his own misery, thought only of what lay a head of him. After quite a bit of time passed not listening to his son Bode knew that that his dad hadn’t heard a word he’d said.
“Dad?”
“Yeah.”
“Where are we going?” Bode asked, pulling out a map of the area.
Bruce was forced to come up with an explanation for his son. After a long period of silence Bode figured his question would go unanswered.
“When I was dating your mother, and even for a few years after we were married, we’d go to this little beach we found. It was kind of like our favorite get away. We’d camp there, go swimming, and just…be together” Bruce explained, “Ever since she was attacked, I’ve felt the need to return.”
“Ever since that day I’ve been really sad.” Bruce admitted.
“Yeah I know,” replied Bode. “Me too.”
“Well, this beach is the place that holds my happiest memories of your mom. I want to go there because that is where our lives together began.” Bruce paused deciding how to continue. Bode didn’t respond. He was just listening and staring out the window.
“Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
“Yeah.” Said the boy. “I really miss mom.”
“Me too.”
After a few moments he asked, “Where we are going, what’s it called? Does this place have a name?”
“It is called Bodega Head.” Bruce looked at his son through the rearview mirror. “We named you Bode after this place.”
Bode found the place on the map and said “That’s funny,” looking up at his dad, “there is a place near there called ‘Hole in the head’.” Bruce just nodded in response.
This discovery was followed by a long stretch of silence. The two watched the asphalt ribbon go by and the roadside scenery disappear from sight as quickly as it appeared. Bruce never felt more alone than he did in that silence. He looked at the boy who was now sleeping peacefully in the back seat.
‘How could I have brought my family to this point?’ he thought. ‘Where did I go wrong in my life? I got my wife killed because of my own stupid addiction. She forgave me a hundreds of times over the years, but she can’t forgive me any more. She always had the ability to solve our problems by saying those three words. Now no one can forgive me for this. I took my wife down; now, I’m taking my son down with me.
“Bode, wake up.” His dad said, “We’re almost there.”
It took him a few minutes to wake up, but then Bode said, “We’ve only got a couple hours before the sun goes down. Are we gonna spend the night here?”
“I’m not sure. Let’s just see what happens,” answered Bruce. “I want to get the beach first.”
Bruce parked the car in a small clearing. Bode jumped out almost as soon as the car had stopped. With his satchel over his shoulder Bruce untied the kayak and pulled it down. Together, he and Bode, headed into the woods down a narrow path barely wide enough for them. It was more than a fifteen minute walk through a winding, rough path. They both tripped and lost their footing several times. Finally, they approached a clearing that looked more like the end of a dark tunnel.
Standing at the edge of the cliff they looked out over the massive expanse of the Pacific Ocean. The view was as breathtaking as Bruce had remembered. The memories of this place hit him so fast that he could almost feel their impact physically. On the edge of losing his composure, he pulled himself together to turn down that path that led to the beach.
“Dad?” said Bode with great anxiety in his voice. “What is this place?”
“This is Bodega Head. We’re here.”
“Dad?” Bode sounded agitated now. “This is the place from my dream last night.”
“Bode, lots of beaches look like this. I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.”
“No, this is the same place!” he said. “Come on, we gotta get down there!”
“Slow down!” yelled Bruce. “We have to bring the kayak with us!”
As soon as they reached the sandy beach Bode dropped his end of the kayak and started running. “This is the place!” He shouted, “I gotta find the spot!”
Exhausted in every way Bruce dropped to his knees to put the kayak down, and then sat in the sand. Occasionally he’d look up to see where Bode was, but then his gaze would return to the ground and his thoughts to his misery and guilt. He knew what he had to do. He had to find the strength to get this kayak ready. Bode was down the beach shoveling into the cold sand with nothing but his hands.
Although only a few moments had passed, Bode had at least a half a dozen holes dug. He was on his knees, face down toward the sand, and his hands worked furiously to clear the hole in front of him. Bruce dragged the kayak into position and took the satchel off his shoulder. He set the bag in the kayak and unzipped it. There were only three items in the pack. Bruce reached in and pulled out the .38 Special and a handful of ammunition. Slowly and methodically he loaded the weapon.
Holding the small handgun, he pulled out the handwritten note he had written the night before.
“You took my wife. I won’t let you take my son too.” It said. Looking at his watch he imagined there were likely angry men at his house right at that moment. Stirring him from his dark focus was his son’s voice.
“Dad! Dad! I think I found it!” shouted the boy who was more than a hundred yards away. “Come here! I need help!”
There was still time before sundown. The plan was to be out in the kayak, beyond the breaking waves, to watch the sunset. He could go see what Bode was up to, and still get the plan under way. He carefully put the weapon and note back into the bag then slowly stood and began walking toward Bode.
“This has to be it! The sand is getting warmer!” Bode was getting more and more excited. “I told you this was more than a dream!”
Bode dug into the sand with both hands throwing it all directions. Bruce could see clumps of moist sand flying up above his son’s head as he approached.
Then Bode found what he was looking for. He could see the dark color and the bright gold colored emblem that seemed to glow in the late afternoon sun. Now moving more carefully, Bode gently cleared the sand away from his prize. It was a small wooden box. The surreal nature of this scene was not lost on either Bode or Bruce. The boy lifted the box from the hole almost too amazed to open it. With a deep breath he pried open the lid, slowly lifting the top.
“What’s in there” ask Bruce
“A locket, and a…” He stopped and looked up at his dad.
“What?”
“There’s a note in here addressed to Bruce.” Bode starred at his father’s face.
“Let me see that.” Bruce said as the color drained from his face.
Bruce held the note looking like he’d seen a ghost he unfolded the small piece of stationary. His movements were slow and deliberate, as if fearing what was on the paper. As he began reading, he froze and fell to his knees; then he started to read the note out loud, but got choked up, and was unable to continue.
“This note is from your mom.” He said through tears. “I remember the day she buried this…I had completely forgotten about it.” His eyes drifted back into his memory. “She wanted me to bury one too, but I never did.”
Bode was looking at the locket he pulled from the box. “What does the note say?”
“It says…Bruce, I love you, and I always will.” He paused to take a deep breath, and then continued reading aloud. “We have had our problems, but I want you to know that I forgive you, for everything. There is nothing you can do to make me stop loving you or stop forgiving you.” He was quietly sobbing as he finished reading it. He cried the tears of a broken man.
“Dad, are you OK?” Bode had no idea what to say. His father didn’t answer, “Is everything OK?” Bode asked again.
Bruce nodded his head. “Everything is going to be just fine.” He said quietly.
They both sat quiet in the sand for a long time.
“The sun is going to set soon.” Bruce said, “We need to head out. Are you ready?”
“Sure.”
They walked back along the tide toward the kayak. Bode was a few steps ahead of his father. He reached the boat first and announced, “I wanna sit in front.”
He carefully set the box he found on the floor of the kayak. He took his position and waited for his dad. Working together, they got it out into the tide. Bode jumped in and began pushing the oar into the sand. Once out far enough, Bruce jumped in and began paddling away from shore. He needed to get them out past the opening of the small bay where the water was calmer. It took about a half an hour and quite a bit of energy to reach the desired spot. They sat in silence as the sun neared the surface of the water. It was the most beautiful sunset that Bruce could remember seeing in many years. The sun appeared close enough to the water to make the ocean boil.
“This sunset is amazing.” Bode said, entranced by this show of nature’s beauty. Bruce quietly pulled his handgun from its bag and held it behind his son’s ear, firmly squeezing the trigger. He watched the sun vanish below the ocean’s surface and quietly sobbed. “I won’t let you take him too.” Then he put the barrel of the gun behind his own ear, and pulled the trigger.
2009-01-17
The Curious Story of... you.
Some people travel to exotic locations. Some people dance and sing for kings, queens, princes, and princesses. Some people make it to Carnegie Hall, some win national championships. Some have fantastic and extraordinary journies through life. Some see their own lives as simple, ordinary, even boring. Every persons life is unique. Every persons story is unique, and even curious. The curious case of each of our lives are stories worth sharing with those we love; heck, even with anyone who will listen.
It is important that we share the stories of our lives because this is how the memories of who we are live on long after our inevitable departure from this rock we call Earth. Every time you share, or hear, a story of great-grandpa's life, or your late Aunt Millie, that person comes alive again in your mind and heart. Memories and stories are the only way that humans come close to reaching immortality.
Knowing your story, and being able to tell it, helps you understand yourself better. It allows you the opprotunity to understand the events and people that shape who you are. It helps you better understand why you profess what you do. The old adage is true, you can't really know where you are going unless you know where you have been.
The movie "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" got me thinking about my story. One could certainly call my story 'curious'. Starting my life, the doctors told my parents they should let me die because I couldn't live long on my own. Even if I did I'd be paralysed and be severly brain damaged. Well, here I am 37 years later. I can walk, think, I am even working on my Masters Degree.
What is you're 'curious' story?
It is important that we share the stories of our lives because this is how the memories of who we are live on long after our inevitable departure from this rock we call Earth. Every time you share, or hear, a story of great-grandpa's life, or your late Aunt Millie, that person comes alive again in your mind and heart. Memories and stories are the only way that humans come close to reaching immortality.
Knowing your story, and being able to tell it, helps you understand yourself better. It allows you the opprotunity to understand the events and people that shape who you are. It helps you better understand why you profess what you do. The old adage is true, you can't really know where you are going unless you know where you have been.
The movie "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" got me thinking about my story. One could certainly call my story 'curious'. Starting my life, the doctors told my parents they should let me die because I couldn't live long on my own. Even if I did I'd be paralysed and be severly brain damaged. Well, here I am 37 years later. I can walk, think, I am even working on my Masters Degree.
What is you're 'curious' story?
2008-04-12
I fell for the con
Could Tiger fans be witnessing the biggest heist in Detroit since the Mayor’s secret deal to keep his text messages hidden?
All winter long Tiger fans heard how amazing this years Tigers lineup was going to be. This was supposed to be the biggest run producing lineup in the history of baseball, in the history of athletic competition, nay in all of recorded history! Sure, they warned us the bullpen might be a bit short, but we’ll score enough runs to have an automatic bid to the World Series! Then after that we’re going to load them all onto the bus and take the whole team to Cooperstown!
This collection of sure-fire Hall of Famer’s started the season 0-7, getting swept by Kansas City and the White Sox, and is now 2-9. As of the writing of this we have now been shutout 3 times, the same number as all of the 2007 season. This team has managed to score 5 or more runs in 4 of their 11 games, of which they have won 2. Today they really tried hard to hand the White Sox starter Gavin Floyd a no-hitter, which lasted into the 7th. They set a season low today by only managing 2 hits. Their prior low was 3 in loss number 2 to the Royals.
These guys look terrible. So many times they are swinging weakly at the first pitch they see. To many times they are hitting lazy pop ups, or soft grounders to the infielders. The first couple weeks of the season has been harder to watch then the 2003 season. At least we all knew that team was bad.
I really hope this team proves me wrong, but at this point it seems that we are becoming the Baltimore Orioles of the late 90’s who threw a ton of money at ‘name’ players who ended up doing little more than finishing under .500 year after year. This could also end up being the highest paid Triple A quality club ever. I admit I bought into the hype. I was excited about this season. I thought for sure this club was going to award the longtime fans in the city with another championship caliber season. Boy was I stupid. I fell for the con.
2006-09-25
Delirious In Detroit?
For the first time since the late, great, Ronald Reagan was President the Tigers have secured a spot in the American League Playoffs. For the first time since the fall of the Berlin Wall and the Communist Soviet Union the Tigers are in the playoffs. Not since Living on a Prayer (Bon Jovi), mony mony (Billy Idol), and I Think We’re Alone Now (Tiffany), were in heavy rotation on the radio, have the Tigers had a champagne celebration in their club house. What is it that I keep hearing people talk about? ‘Can you believe how bad the Lions stunk it up?’ and ‘Did you see MSU fall apart against Notre Dame on Saturday?’
I am fully aware that the American Pastime is no longer baseball, much to my dismay. I know we live in a football society. But I really thought people would be more fired up about this than they are. Are people here getting used to our teams making it to the post-season? We had a long stretch with the Red Wings making a run every year for the Stanley Cup. The last few years the Pistons have had good seasons resulting in appearances in the playoffs, and a championship. Are people just too used to it? I don’t know. I don’t think I get it.
Even if it’s just me and Mike Ilitch (the owner of the Tigers), and a few others that I have yet to come across, there are people that are delirious in Detroit over the Tigers success this season. Let me formally say; Congratulations to the 2006 Detroit Tigers on securing their first playoff spot in 19 seasons!!!
I am fully aware that the American Pastime is no longer baseball, much to my dismay. I know we live in a football society. But I really thought people would be more fired up about this than they are. Are people here getting used to our teams making it to the post-season? We had a long stretch with the Red Wings making a run every year for the Stanley Cup. The last few years the Pistons have had good seasons resulting in appearances in the playoffs, and a championship. Are people just too used to it? I don’t know. I don’t think I get it.
Even if it’s just me and Mike Ilitch (the owner of the Tigers), and a few others that I have yet to come across, there are people that are delirious in Detroit over the Tigers success this season. Let me formally say; Congratulations to the 2006 Detroit Tigers on securing their first playoff spot in 19 seasons!!!
2006-08-24
81 Wins and Anxiously Awaiting More
They finally did it. The Detroit Tigers have secured their 81st win of the season. The guarantees something that true Tiger fans have been long waiting for…a non-lossing season.
While some teams fans have been spoiled by the year after year of successful baseball; year after year of playoff appearances; and year after year of reasonably expecting a chance at a World Series appearance. While some fans have become spoiled, and unappreciative those of us who have worn the badge of Tiger Fan, sometimes painfully, have forgotten the fun and joy that comes with watching your team win more games than they lose.
The last time the Tigers accomplished this mark, that for many teams passes without note, was 1993. As a way of explaining just how painful the last 12 seasons have been let me offer these points of comparison.
Atlanta Braves fans have been able to cheer their team on to 1239 regular season victories. They have enjoyed 12 first place finishes in the National League East. They have witnessed 12 playoff appearances, which included 3 trips to the World Series and one Championship
New York Yankees fans have cheered their team on to 1219 regular season victories. They have been handed 10 1st place finished in the American League East and three 2nd place finishes. Their fans have watched 11 post season appearances including 6 trips to World Series resulting in 4 Championships.
Detroit Tigers fans, who are some of the most dies hard in all of sports, have cheered their fans on to 850 well earned victories. Since 1994 the Tigers have never finished above 3rd place, and never closer than 16 games behind.
I started think what was going on when the Tigers last won more games than they lost. After a short amount of research on Google I found some interesting news events from the year 1993.
President Bill Clinton introduces the ‘Don’t Ask Don’t Tell’ policy in the military
The first World Trade Center bombing occurred.
The ATF and the Branch Dividians infamous standoff & battle occurred that year
Ruth Bader Ginsberg joined the Supreme Court
Schindler’s List was the big movie of that year
Three other events that changed the world happened hat year:
-Intel released the first Pentium processor
-Microsoft released Windows 3.1
-Mosaic WWW software was first released to the public
That's right. None of us had easy access to the internet then. In fact few of us had access to Windows then.
I’ll leave it there and let it sink in just how long Tigers fans have been waiting for this.
While some teams fans have been spoiled by the year after year of successful baseball; year after year of playoff appearances; and year after year of reasonably expecting a chance at a World Series appearance. While some fans have become spoiled, and unappreciative those of us who have worn the badge of Tiger Fan, sometimes painfully, have forgotten the fun and joy that comes with watching your team win more games than they lose.
The last time the Tigers accomplished this mark, that for many teams passes without note, was 1993. As a way of explaining just how painful the last 12 seasons have been let me offer these points of comparison.
Atlanta Braves fans have been able to cheer their team on to 1239 regular season victories. They have enjoyed 12 first place finishes in the National League East. They have witnessed 12 playoff appearances, which included 3 trips to the World Series and one Championship
New York Yankees fans have cheered their team on to 1219 regular season victories. They have been handed 10 1st place finished in the American League East and three 2nd place finishes. Their fans have watched 11 post season appearances including 6 trips to World Series resulting in 4 Championships.
Detroit Tigers fans, who are some of the most dies hard in all of sports, have cheered their fans on to 850 well earned victories. Since 1994 the Tigers have never finished above 3rd place, and never closer than 16 games behind.
I started think what was going on when the Tigers last won more games than they lost. After a short amount of research on Google I found some interesting news events from the year 1993.
President Bill Clinton introduces the ‘Don’t Ask Don’t Tell’ policy in the military
The first World Trade Center bombing occurred.
The ATF and the Branch Dividians infamous standoff & battle occurred that year
Ruth Bader Ginsberg joined the Supreme Court
Schindler’s List was the big movie of that year
Three other events that changed the world happened hat year:
-Intel released the first Pentium processor
-Microsoft released Windows 3.1
-Mosaic WWW software was first released to the public
That's right. None of us had easy access to the internet then. In fact few of us had access to Windows then.
I’ll leave it there and let it sink in just how long Tigers fans have been waiting for this.
2006-08-14
Still The Best
Much to Derek’s dismay the Tigers are still in first place and they still have the best record in baseball. Yes they got swept by the WhiteSox and they have a 3-9 record against the ChiSox this season. But it’ll be ok. I’m actually glad to see them struggling right now.
Even with the sweep, which puts their losing streak at 5, they are still sitting on the best record in the Majors. Their pitching staff is still one of the best in either league. Their march to the playoffs is still all but assured. As of Sunday, we currently have 76 wins. Which is more than all but two seasons in which Bobby Higginson endured in his dozen years as a Tiger.
The Tigers are on pace to win 105 games. That is one more than the 1984 team won on their march to the World Series. Now, even the most optimistic of Tiger fans (me included) don’t expect this pace to continue. Even if the team plays close to .500 ball (22-23) from here on out we’ll finish with 98 wins. That will likely be good enough for both a playoff spot and the division championship. It is starting to look like 100 wins isn’t too far out of reach. Having said that you’re not going to get me to make any October predictions, other than, if the Tigers make the playoffs, they are going to have to play very well to advance.
There seems to be a fair number in the media (Detroit included) saying ‘see they aren’t for real’. There is a lot of people looking for this surprising team to fall apart, and struggle to make the playoffs, if they do at all. Seriously, all they have to do is win 14 games from here on out and they will have won 90. While that doesn’t seem like it will get them into the post season, it will certainly keep them in the hunt. But falling to a barely-over-300 winning percentage is pretty unlikely given the season they are having.
I personally am glad that they are struggling right now. It won’t really bother me if they drop 2 of 3 to Boston this week. This team seems to believe they can beat anybody on any given night. If they don't win this series all that does is fuel the media and drama. If the Tigers end up facing the Red Sox, or the Yankees for that matter, in the playoffs, I have no question that we will give them a good series and make them earn every victory they get. And in the background you'll hear the media chirping about how they Tigers can't seem to beat the elite teams.
We have a pretty tough schedule for the rest of the month. We’ve got another series against Chicago, a series against the Yankees, and one against the Indians. The only possible rest is against the Rangers later this week. But the September schedule doesn’t look quite as tough.
The schedule has the potential to be an ally for the Tigers. They should right themselves sooner than later. At which time they’ll be in good position to be firing on all cylinders heading into the post season. It is much better to be struggling (which happens to even the greatest teams) in the middle of August, than in the middle of September.
Just remember, and I hope that every member of the Tigers remembers, as of today they still have the best record in baseball, and they still have a 5 ½ game lead over the White Sox for the lead in the AL Central.
Even with the sweep, which puts their losing streak at 5, they are still sitting on the best record in the Majors. Their pitching staff is still one of the best in either league. Their march to the playoffs is still all but assured. As of Sunday, we currently have 76 wins. Which is more than all but two seasons in which Bobby Higginson endured in his dozen years as a Tiger.
The Tigers are on pace to win 105 games. That is one more than the 1984 team won on their march to the World Series. Now, even the most optimistic of Tiger fans (me included) don’t expect this pace to continue. Even if the team plays close to .500 ball (22-23) from here on out we’ll finish with 98 wins. That will likely be good enough for both a playoff spot and the division championship. It is starting to look like 100 wins isn’t too far out of reach. Having said that you’re not going to get me to make any October predictions, other than, if the Tigers make the playoffs, they are going to have to play very well to advance.
There seems to be a fair number in the media (Detroit included) saying ‘see they aren’t for real’. There is a lot of people looking for this surprising team to fall apart, and struggle to make the playoffs, if they do at all. Seriously, all they have to do is win 14 games from here on out and they will have won 90. While that doesn’t seem like it will get them into the post season, it will certainly keep them in the hunt. But falling to a barely-over-300 winning percentage is pretty unlikely given the season they are having.
I personally am glad that they are struggling right now. It won’t really bother me if they drop 2 of 3 to Boston this week. This team seems to believe they can beat anybody on any given night. If they don't win this series all that does is fuel the media and drama. If the Tigers end up facing the Red Sox, or the Yankees for that matter, in the playoffs, I have no question that we will give them a good series and make them earn every victory they get. And in the background you'll hear the media chirping about how they Tigers can't seem to beat the elite teams.
We have a pretty tough schedule for the rest of the month. We’ve got another series against Chicago, a series against the Yankees, and one against the Indians. The only possible rest is against the Rangers later this week. But the September schedule doesn’t look quite as tough.
The schedule has the potential to be an ally for the Tigers. They should right themselves sooner than later. At which time they’ll be in good position to be firing on all cylinders heading into the post season. It is much better to be struggling (which happens to even the greatest teams) in the middle of August, than in the middle of September.
Just remember, and I hope that every member of the Tigers remembers, as of today they still have the best record in baseball, and they still have a 5 ½ game lead over the White Sox for the lead in the AL Central.
Mini Series Part Four - What, No More Choir?
Welcome to episode four of my blogging mini-series. In this episode I will be discussing the events of Sunday and my observation there in.
If you know me even a little, you probably know that I have been involved in choirs and music departments for much of my life. This part of my life goes back to at least the second grade. Yes Derek, that would be more than 25 years ago.
Last Christmas I found myself involved in too many things at my church and I was starting to feel at least a taste of the pressure that full time church workers feel. I was involved in choir. I was participating as a small group guide for the confirmation classes. I was the treasurer for the churches bowling league. I was also trying to put time into organizing, establish, and support our new (at that time) young adults ministry called FaithWorks. I was starting to fear burning out, so something had to go. I decided the thing that my participation would be missed the least would be choir (since there were 6 other tenors, and at least 3 of them were as good or better than me). So after the Christmas Concert I took a hiatus from the music department completely. This was a very difficult thing for me, and it took very little time before I started to miss it. I decided that things should be less crazy by fall, at which time I’d rejoin the choir. From the moment I made that decision I was really fired up to get going again.
I think it was late spring when the announcement came out that our director of ten years was taking a call to a new place. He was heading to a church near his family’s home in Fort Wayne, Indiana. This came as no surprise to those that knew him. It was no surprise, but that didn’t diminish the disappointment in loosing such a talented Minister of Music, and choir director. Even with the announcement I was still fired up about getting involved with the choir again come this fall.
Anytime someone leaves a church that position needs to be filled. Especially when it is a position as visible and critical to a church like mine, where the music ‘heritage’ is deeply engrained in that place. There has been a huge shift in recent years in how church music is presented, not only in my church but in many churches around the country. There is more attention paid to the non-traditional music. This change has also effected the type of person that they want to fill that role. Our senior pastor hand a meeting with the choir a couple weeks ago to discuss the plan, and future, with them. I had a prior commitment so I couldn't go. Therefore all my knowledge in this area, so far, is second hand and conclusions drawn from that second hand knowledge. But before I expound on that let me tell you about Ken’s (the director) last official day with us.
We sang all three services. So after being out late I had to be up and at church by 7:30, or at least I was supposed to be. I ended up being only a few minutes late. It went really well. We had a bunch of people that have sung with us in the past join us for Ken’s final services.
Immediately after the last service we had a luncheon thing for Ken. It was nice. The Senior Choir did a little skit and sang a couple songs. We ended with one of my top 5 favorite choir songs, ‘The Lord Bless You And Keep You’.
It appears that this may be one of the last chances I will have to sing with this group for quite a while. From what I have been told the church has decided not to seek an interim leader for the adult choirs. Which means that, maybe with the exception of special events, the choir is being put on ice for a while. So, I was all fired up about coming back to choir and now it looks like there is not going to be a choir to come back to.
Current speculation is that the call process to fill the vacancy could take at least a year just to place the call. After that only God knows how long it will be before the position is filled.
This is really sad, in my opinion, because of the music heritage of that church and how the music department is so engrained in the personality of the church. I heard one person say ‘without the music what else does this church have?’. Well, we still have God and the Gospel message. This is in no way going to kill our church, we’ve been through more difficult challenges. However, it will have an impact and it will make our services a little less special, at least to me.
My new issue relating to that is, where am I going to get my choir fix? I have to decide what I am going to do. I am involved in the music that we do for FaithWorks, and I am starting to take guitar lessons soon. We’ll see if that fills the void.
Thus ends episode four. Stay tuned for more.
If you know me even a little, you probably know that I have been involved in choirs and music departments for much of my life. This part of my life goes back to at least the second grade. Yes Derek, that would be more than 25 years ago.
Last Christmas I found myself involved in too many things at my church and I was starting to feel at least a taste of the pressure that full time church workers feel. I was involved in choir. I was participating as a small group guide for the confirmation classes. I was the treasurer for the churches bowling league. I was also trying to put time into organizing, establish, and support our new (at that time) young adults ministry called FaithWorks. I was starting to fear burning out, so something had to go. I decided the thing that my participation would be missed the least would be choir (since there were 6 other tenors, and at least 3 of them were as good or better than me). So after the Christmas Concert I took a hiatus from the music department completely. This was a very difficult thing for me, and it took very little time before I started to miss it. I decided that things should be less crazy by fall, at which time I’d rejoin the choir. From the moment I made that decision I was really fired up to get going again.
I think it was late spring when the announcement came out that our director of ten years was taking a call to a new place. He was heading to a church near his family’s home in Fort Wayne, Indiana. This came as no surprise to those that knew him. It was no surprise, but that didn’t diminish the disappointment in loosing such a talented Minister of Music, and choir director. Even with the announcement I was still fired up about getting involved with the choir again come this fall.
Anytime someone leaves a church that position needs to be filled. Especially when it is a position as visible and critical to a church like mine, where the music ‘heritage’ is deeply engrained in that place. There has been a huge shift in recent years in how church music is presented, not only in my church but in many churches around the country. There is more attention paid to the non-traditional music. This change has also effected the type of person that they want to fill that role. Our senior pastor hand a meeting with the choir a couple weeks ago to discuss the plan, and future, with them. I had a prior commitment so I couldn't go. Therefore all my knowledge in this area, so far, is second hand and conclusions drawn from that second hand knowledge. But before I expound on that let me tell you about Ken’s (the director) last official day with us.
We sang all three services. So after being out late I had to be up and at church by 7:30, or at least I was supposed to be. I ended up being only a few minutes late. It went really well. We had a bunch of people that have sung with us in the past join us for Ken’s final services.
Immediately after the last service we had a luncheon thing for Ken. It was nice. The Senior Choir did a little skit and sang a couple songs. We ended with one of my top 5 favorite choir songs, ‘The Lord Bless You And Keep You’.
It appears that this may be one of the last chances I will have to sing with this group for quite a while. From what I have been told the church has decided not to seek an interim leader for the adult choirs. Which means that, maybe with the exception of special events, the choir is being put on ice for a while. So, I was all fired up about coming back to choir and now it looks like there is not going to be a choir to come back to.
Current speculation is that the call process to fill the vacancy could take at least a year just to place the call. After that only God knows how long it will be before the position is filled.
This is really sad, in my opinion, because of the music heritage of that church and how the music department is so engrained in the personality of the church. I heard one person say ‘without the music what else does this church have?’. Well, we still have God and the Gospel message. This is in no way going to kill our church, we’ve been through more difficult challenges. However, it will have an impact and it will make our services a little less special, at least to me.
My new issue relating to that is, where am I going to get my choir fix? I have to decide what I am going to do. I am involved in the music that we do for FaithWorks, and I am starting to take guitar lessons soon. We’ll see if that fills the void.
Thus ends episode four. Stay tuned for more.
Mini Series Part Three - The Wedding and The Piano Bar
This is part three of my blogging mini-series. Thanks for sticking around. In this episode I will discuss the events and observations from a very busy Saturday.
The weather couldn’t have been better for this day. The humidity was low, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, the temperature was comfortably warm all day. A virtually perfect day in that respect.
I started the day late, as I was out pretty late the night before. As I was washing the clothes that I had intended to wear to the wedding, I changed my mind. So I actually went clothes shopping. Now, I’m never going to be confused as someone who is a metro-sexual, or even someone with great fashion sense. But I think I did pretty well picking out what I wore. If I do say so myself, I looked pretty darn good.
Nearly my entire family was at the wedding, with the exception of my older brother and his family (but they are split between Kansas City and Iraq right now). The wedding was really nice. It has been a long time since I’ve been to a wedding at my church. It looked really good. The reception was nice too. The food was excellent, and the planning of the seating assignments was pretty good too.
It was great seeing people that I haven’t seen in many years. I was given the opportunity to have conversations with people that I really haven’t talked to much before. Its weird, but growing up in a church like mine you can go years knowing a family, or knowing of a person, but not actually having a conversation with that person. That was the case with two of the people at my table.
My brother and sister, and their respective spouses were sitting together at a separate table from me. I spent some time over there talking with them. Now, this shouldn’t be worthy of bringing up, let alone using an entire paragraph to discuss, but it is. I have a great relationship with my sister and her husband. I am so grateful for that. My relationship with my brother and his wife is returning to good after a long period of contentious and unfriendly exchanges. I really doubt they will read this, but I am very happy to have that thorn removed from my side, after nearly a full year. I am looking forward to being able to restore the relationship between us and more importantly to build and strengthen my relationship with their kids. It is going to take time, but the rewards will be worth it.
The only bad thing, or rather disappointing thing, that happened at the reception was my inability to get to talk with two of the brides sisters; Karol, my friend since childhood, and Kim, who I wanted to thank for the great advice while deciding on getting a dog. The only one of Kathy’s sisters that I was able to chat with is the one I know the least, Krystal, and that wasn’t until the next morning at church. There is a decent chance that Karol will read this. Sorry Karol, I really wanted to talk to you but I kept getting blocked out, and then I was getting pulled out the door by another commitment.
Although my reintroduction to Karol’s husband made me chuckle after the fact. He was doing his usher duties by the door into the sanctuary when he saw me walk up. ‘I know you, don’t I?’ he said as I approached. I spent a couple days staying at his house and he drove me and Derek around NYC, including a game at Yankee Stadium. But, in his defense that was what, four years ago?
In all seriousness though, it was wonderful to see everyone again, even those I didn’t get a chance to talk with. I was glad that I could participate in such an important day in a friends life.
After the reception I grudgingly went help entertain Mary’s out of town guests at a local drinking establishment called JD Key Club. This is a very popular dueling piano bar. The place was packed. There was very little room to move at all.
The basic concept of this place is this; you’ve got two guys playing piano facing each other. They interact with each other, trying to out do the other, but also feeding off each other to entertain the crowd. You can make requests for your favorite song (along with a tip of course), but then you can also pay to get them to stop playing a song.
Being a place that typically draws the college set I expected to be one of the older people there. I couldn’t have been more wrong. There were people there that made me feel quite young. But the vast majority of the people there were, predictably, under 25. Now maybe this is a sign of my age and my fading tolerance for that type of environment, but I thought the entertainment was a little raunchy at times. For the most part it was fun and entertaining. But there were more than a few moments when I was thinking ‘ok, was that really necessary?’
Afterward we went to Big Boy. Part of the group I was with was a couple college kids. One a senior (finance major) at Univ of Minn, the other is a recent graduate with an accounting degree from Univ of Minn. I found that I had a lot in common with them, and enjoyed talking to them. But it’s the weirdest feeling talking to a person that age about what they can expect in their career. It was kind of a surreal experience in a way, since I don’t really feel old enough or experienced enough to be doing such a thing. We were out until well after 1am. I haven’t done that in such a long time. I really paid for it though the next day (more on that in the next episode).
With that I am going wrap up this episode. Stay tuned for more.
The weather couldn’t have been better for this day. The humidity was low, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, the temperature was comfortably warm all day. A virtually perfect day in that respect.
I started the day late, as I was out pretty late the night before. As I was washing the clothes that I had intended to wear to the wedding, I changed my mind. So I actually went clothes shopping. Now, I’m never going to be confused as someone who is a metro-sexual, or even someone with great fashion sense. But I think I did pretty well picking out what I wore. If I do say so myself, I looked pretty darn good.
Nearly my entire family was at the wedding, with the exception of my older brother and his family (but they are split between Kansas City and Iraq right now). The wedding was really nice. It has been a long time since I’ve been to a wedding at my church. It looked really good. The reception was nice too. The food was excellent, and the planning of the seating assignments was pretty good too.
It was great seeing people that I haven’t seen in many years. I was given the opportunity to have conversations with people that I really haven’t talked to much before. Its weird, but growing up in a church like mine you can go years knowing a family, or knowing of a person, but not actually having a conversation with that person. That was the case with two of the people at my table.
My brother and sister, and their respective spouses were sitting together at a separate table from me. I spent some time over there talking with them. Now, this shouldn’t be worthy of bringing up, let alone using an entire paragraph to discuss, but it is. I have a great relationship with my sister and her husband. I am so grateful for that. My relationship with my brother and his wife is returning to good after a long period of contentious and unfriendly exchanges. I really doubt they will read this, but I am very happy to have that thorn removed from my side, after nearly a full year. I am looking forward to being able to restore the relationship between us and more importantly to build and strengthen my relationship with their kids. It is going to take time, but the rewards will be worth it.
The only bad thing, or rather disappointing thing, that happened at the reception was my inability to get to talk with two of the brides sisters; Karol, my friend since childhood, and Kim, who I wanted to thank for the great advice while deciding on getting a dog. The only one of Kathy’s sisters that I was able to chat with is the one I know the least, Krystal, and that wasn’t until the next morning at church. There is a decent chance that Karol will read this. Sorry Karol, I really wanted to talk to you but I kept getting blocked out, and then I was getting pulled out the door by another commitment.
Although my reintroduction to Karol’s husband made me chuckle after the fact. He was doing his usher duties by the door into the sanctuary when he saw me walk up. ‘I know you, don’t I?’ he said as I approached. I spent a couple days staying at his house and he drove me and Derek around NYC, including a game at Yankee Stadium. But, in his defense that was what, four years ago?
In all seriousness though, it was wonderful to see everyone again, even those I didn’t get a chance to talk with. I was glad that I could participate in such an important day in a friends life.
After the reception I grudgingly went help entertain Mary’s out of town guests at a local drinking establishment called JD Key Club. This is a very popular dueling piano bar. The place was packed. There was very little room to move at all.
The basic concept of this place is this; you’ve got two guys playing piano facing each other. They interact with each other, trying to out do the other, but also feeding off each other to entertain the crowd. You can make requests for your favorite song (along with a tip of course), but then you can also pay to get them to stop playing a song.
Being a place that typically draws the college set I expected to be one of the older people there. I couldn’t have been more wrong. There were people there that made me feel quite young. But the vast majority of the people there were, predictably, under 25. Now maybe this is a sign of my age and my fading tolerance for that type of environment, but I thought the entertainment was a little raunchy at times. For the most part it was fun and entertaining. But there were more than a few moments when I was thinking ‘ok, was that really necessary?’
Afterward we went to Big Boy. Part of the group I was with was a couple college kids. One a senior (finance major) at Univ of Minn, the other is a recent graduate with an accounting degree from Univ of Minn. I found that I had a lot in common with them, and enjoyed talking to them. But it’s the weirdest feeling talking to a person that age about what they can expect in their career. It was kind of a surreal experience in a way, since I don’t really feel old enough or experienced enough to be doing such a thing. We were out until well after 1am. I haven’t done that in such a long time. I really paid for it though the next day (more on that in the next episode).
With that I am going wrap up this episode. Stay tuned for more.
Mini Series Part One - The Dog
I have a serious blogging problem.
I allow myself to go weeks without taking the time to update this thing. Then when I decide that I have the time and motivation I have so many things to cover I don’t do any of them justice. Such is the case today.
I have a potentially slow morning so I am taking the time to type up a new entry. I have no less than five topics to cover. Each of which probably deserve individual entries. I may split them up and post them periodically to make it look like I’m really actively updating.
The past month, since I have last posted, has been a busy one. But that is nothing new. I am going to focus this entry on observations and thoughts from this past week and weekend. Since, that will make it easier for me to remember everything.
Last week Sunday I made a decision to test my dog, Hank, to see if I could further loosen the tether that is his schedule, while encouraging his development. I decided to see if he could handle being left alone for an entire work day. Fortunately I work fairly close to home so that time isn’t much more than 8-9 hours.
Hank did great. He didn’t make any messes and went straight outside when I told him too. Now, being pent up all day in his crate meant that he had a great deal of energy to expend when I let him out. A couple of those days I would not have been surprised if his head spun around while he was doing a back flip. But he did great. I decided to test him a little more this week to see how it goes.
Now, I know I’m probably doing this a little bit too soon. Everything that I have read has told me that he shouldn’t be left alone for 8 hours before his first birthday, which isn’t until October 9. But everything that I have seen and been told (by his vet) that he should be pretty much done growing by the time he hits 9 months. At a couple of points this summer I unintentionally tested him, and he did fine. Maybe you dog people out there can tell me if I’m doing a bad thing or if my thinking is reasonable.
After talking to someone that arguably knows more about dogs development than anyone I know, I think I need to get Hank back into obedience training. I allowed him to become a puppy school drop out last spring. In the only formal class I have had him enrolled in was at a PetSmart, on Saturday mornings. The teacher was great and he and I actually did learn some things. But the biggest thing I learn about Hank during that class was that he needs Ritalin. There were far to many distractions going on at that store during that time. That class was 8 weeks long. He did fine through week 4. Week 5 he got sick in class and wouldn’t participate after that. Week 6 I had a conflict and we couldn’t make it. Week 7 I was sick and didn’t want to deal with it. Then I figured why bother going to the last week. But I got a good tip and I think I’m going to follow up on it. Apparently the Humane Society runs classes not to far from my house. I’m going to have to look into that and see what schedules and rates are.
He, and I, certainly need the training. He has calmed down so much over the past six months. However he still jumps up on me and visitors too much. I need to get him to listen to me when I give him basic commands. The only one he does respond to consistently is ‘sit’ and he loves to play fetch.
After he is calmed down and trained I have several things to repair or replace. He chewed up the trim around my back patio door. He has chewed the corners on my kitchen table and chairs. He has rendered my grill useless by eating the tubing that runs from the propane tank to the grills. Fortunately the tank was empty to she he was never in any danger. Otherwise, just typical stuff that a puppy gets into. But that will give me a good excuse to re-do my kitchen, which is needed.
Thus ends part one of this too-long-to-post-as-one entry.
I allow myself to go weeks without taking the time to update this thing. Then when I decide that I have the time and motivation I have so many things to cover I don’t do any of them justice. Such is the case today.
I have a potentially slow morning so I am taking the time to type up a new entry. I have no less than five topics to cover. Each of which probably deserve individual entries. I may split them up and post them periodically to make it look like I’m really actively updating.
The past month, since I have last posted, has been a busy one. But that is nothing new. I am going to focus this entry on observations and thoughts from this past week and weekend. Since, that will make it easier for me to remember everything.
Last week Sunday I made a decision to test my dog, Hank, to see if I could further loosen the tether that is his schedule, while encouraging his development. I decided to see if he could handle being left alone for an entire work day. Fortunately I work fairly close to home so that time isn’t much more than 8-9 hours.
Hank did great. He didn’t make any messes and went straight outside when I told him too. Now, being pent up all day in his crate meant that he had a great deal of energy to expend when I let him out. A couple of those days I would not have been surprised if his head spun around while he was doing a back flip. But he did great. I decided to test him a little more this week to see how it goes.
Now, I know I’m probably doing this a little bit too soon. Everything that I have read has told me that he shouldn’t be left alone for 8 hours before his first birthday, which isn’t until October 9. But everything that I have seen and been told (by his vet) that he should be pretty much done growing by the time he hits 9 months. At a couple of points this summer I unintentionally tested him, and he did fine. Maybe you dog people out there can tell me if I’m doing a bad thing or if my thinking is reasonable.
After talking to someone that arguably knows more about dogs development than anyone I know, I think I need to get Hank back into obedience training. I allowed him to become a puppy school drop out last spring. In the only formal class I have had him enrolled in was at a PetSmart, on Saturday mornings. The teacher was great and he and I actually did learn some things. But the biggest thing I learn about Hank during that class was that he needs Ritalin. There were far to many distractions going on at that store during that time. That class was 8 weeks long. He did fine through week 4. Week 5 he got sick in class and wouldn’t participate after that. Week 6 I had a conflict and we couldn’t make it. Week 7 I was sick and didn’t want to deal with it. Then I figured why bother going to the last week. But I got a good tip and I think I’m going to follow up on it. Apparently the Humane Society runs classes not to far from my house. I’m going to have to look into that and see what schedules and rates are.
He, and I, certainly need the training. He has calmed down so much over the past six months. However he still jumps up on me and visitors too much. I need to get him to listen to me when I give him basic commands. The only one he does respond to consistently is ‘sit’ and he loves to play fetch.
After he is calmed down and trained I have several things to repair or replace. He chewed up the trim around my back patio door. He has chewed the corners on my kitchen table and chairs. He has rendered my grill useless by eating the tubing that runs from the propane tank to the grills. Fortunately the tank was empty to she he was never in any danger. Otherwise, just typical stuff that a puppy gets into. But that will give me a good excuse to re-do my kitchen, which is needed.
Thus ends part one of this too-long-to-post-as-one entry.
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