Stop It, Just Stop It!

In the words of our all-time favorite pro tennis player, John McEnroe, "You can't be serious!" I think it is time to put an end to what appears to be one of the most frequently blogged topics or sub-topics of the day. That is the ever present apology in one form or another for not having blogged in some time or the need to stop for a bit and the accompanying explanation for your perceived low productivity.

You can't be serious! 

Just stop it right now!

Who cares why? Two minutes, two days, two years, who gives a hoot?
If you've got a something to say say it.
If it works on a blog, blog it.
If it is tweet-worthy, then tweet away.
If it is face-bookable, then face it.
Just get it out there with all the rhythm and glory you can muster. Say no to apologies.

By the way, I like to read random blogs by clicking on the "Next Blog" icon. If you have constructed a blog or web page that appears and then interrupts the flow of blogs so I cannot move past your precious page, then
Stop it, Stop it please!

I'll look if I'm interested, so why take a good chance that you'll hack me off by monopolizing my silly web roaming time?
Just stop it you bloggus-interruptus so-and-so. It's quite enough from you.

There, I feel so much better now.

Have a nice day! :-)

Pause Your Life For A Year

How long can you hold your breath; forty seconds or maybe a minute? How long can you put your life on hold and do shallow breathing while you wait for the right time to restart EVERYTHING, then give it a try only to fall back two steps?

It's really not my story to tell, but it is a story we have been witness to for the last three hundred and sixty five days. We have watched our "baby girl" (that title will never change no matter what the age) go through some unfathomable life events. The kinds of things that are not supposed to happen to vibrant young people. Surviving a long history of broken or sprained ankles, broken fingers, bouts of flu or even herniated discs is not preparation enough.

The life changing kinds of things that make us rehash every day of our lives as parents to find answers to How, Why and What did we do wrong type of questions. Only to discover that there is no comfort in any of the possibilities. What you are left with is "This is where we are, we are fortunate it was discovered now and this is where we go."

"The Sanctuary" contemplation pool at H. Lee Moffitt Cancer Center, Tampa, Florida.

As much as a father or mother may wish to bear the burden or be able to make it go away with a kiss and soothing words, it is not possible. So we place our trust and faith in new people we meet, hoping they have all the necessary tools, skills and interest to guide us through. We hope and we pray.

Learning new medical terminology, trying to ask the right questions, providing moral support and being vigilant guardians is all that remains for us to feel like we can make a difference as parents. Yet there is still a constant wave of reality that flows all around. Reminding us of our limitations and human frailties. And we watch.

We often watch with awe and amazement as our girl winds her way through what has become a web of challenges, with a sense of calm and purpose. She has not allowed room for dispair or self-pity to take charge of her life. She has been absolutely solid in her belief that this is all part of God's plan for her. The strength of her faith has been unyielding and provided her with a sense of direction to persevere.

We have always been extremely proud of her as a person and of her accomplishments. She has always stood out as a young person with an "old soul", with wisdom and understanding beyond her years. Until now the challenges were social or physical. Familiar things intended to build and shape character like playing on sports teams or going off to college. In every way she has survived and thrived.

The events of this last year have taken "challenge" to an unfamiliar level and yet in the midst of it all her sense of self and faith in God have continued to carry her through and become stronger. There is no quit in this kid.

She is our hero.

Why Am I In This Hangar?

Sometimes I feel like a giant with legs that go all the way up and a head too big for my neck.

I try to sit comfortably on an old tiny wooden kindergarten chair,

at an old tiny wooden kindergarten table in the middle of a giant empty metal airplane hangar.

It is dead quiet and poorly lit, but for an apparent spot light covering my work space.

Something, a compelling thought, I just need to write.

I can really feel it make my hands quiver electric.

An all-over itch with no particular spot to scratch the all-over-ness away.

There is lined paper with a large space between the solid lines and an extra dotted line

zipping across the middle to help with breaking capital letters like P's, R's and especially K's

and limit the minor characters.

Oh, and a giant unwieldy black lacquered pencil that seems to never need sharpening.

I can't quite get seated comfortably and as I adjust, the chair drags on the bare concrete floor

causing that wooden screechy ear piercing moan to echo over the space of the hundred yard hangar

and bounce back and forth on the ting-tang metal walls.

I can feel my heart beating in my ears, behind my eyes and maybe resonating off

those ching-chang tin hangar walls.

I am sure the sound of each breath I take

is rolling into the sound of a prior breath

as it coils back to me off those same walls.

A rolling sea of breaths,

now flow and ebb, ebb and flow.

On The Cutting Edge

No, not the cutting edge of technology or any major level of sophisticated anything. Rather the cutting edge of the lawn mower carving a path through what once was a fairly solid yard of grass but has become a greenish blend of all plant things available under the sun.

Why write about mowing the lawn? That is a good question with many answers that depend on how I feel at the moment you choose to ask.

The responses could fall in a range somewhere between:
"It's what I did yesterday.." to "insights from the deepest reaches of my mind.." and other lofty, philosophically convoluted and heady introspective thoughts. (OK, that was too many big ideas in a row for me. Just keep it simple Jim!)

As I worked through the task I could tell the oxygen was flowing freely to my brain because:

1. I was not getting dizzy as I sucked in air through the surgical mask I need to wear to avoid allergic reactions.
and
2. My mind was running away with itself, thinking about the line in the yard I was trying to keep straight, the pretty Azaleas that are blooming despite lack of support and nourishment, to the birds out by the pond and trying to remember where in the bible Jesus questions his purpose in life.
and
3. A poem popped out at me.

Maybe I was getting delirious from lack of oxygen after all.

The prettiest blossom

The one surviving bush

A Lawn Well Mowed

Why is it when I mow away from the house my line looks fair

but when I turn around I see no control there?

Is it only an illusion that my mind’s eye plays?

Can the earth contort in so short a space?

Does the mower drift from left to right

or my brain lose charge and trick my sight?

Maybe an omen, as the Ides of March come soon

and mark the the approach Lent’s full moon.

Whatever the cause I interject,

I’ll set my wheels and self-correct.

Mallard couple and Cormorant sharing some space