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Month: January 2021

Blizzard Blend

Blizzard Blend

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Today’s little snowstorm brought back some memories of snow events from the past and particularly one from eleven years ago.

 

My 2008 Christmas letter started off with this opening:

 A little while back Hayley told us about a conversation she had with another new, young teacher at her work.  This young lady was telling Hayley about her roommates:

 “You know the kind of roommates I am talking about? Do you have those too?”

 (Hayley) “You mean the kind that are older and married?  Yes, I have those kind of roommates too.”

This year Kim and I got roommates…two of them to be exact. You know the kind that I am talking about as well…..the ones that when they are not working, sleep most of the time, watch TV, leave the lights on all night, make sure their dirty dishes stop at the sink instead of going all the way to the dishwasher; the kind that expect dinner on the table and then don’t come home; want their laundry done…that is if ever makes its way off their bedroom floor.

 Sounds strangely a lot like our kids doesn’t it?  Maybe I should ask for some ID.

 Yeah just kidding…Savannah and Hayley have moved in.  But they are now working adults…well… they are working anyway.

 

 

That year, in another of life’s twists and turns, Kim and I, after a shorter than expected time of being empty nesters, got roommates again.

 

I used to joke back then, that I could no longer make my coffee in the nude, an image that even I find vile and revolting today.

 

President Barack Obama dubbed the blizzard of February 5th and 6th 2010 “Snowmaggedon.”  The official snow total for Dulles Airport was the greatest ever recorded, 32.4 inches.

 

As luck would have it, Kim and I still had our roommates that snowy weekend.

 

We had been given a winemaking kit sometime before that and it just so happened that the batch of wine we had made in our little plastic container was ready for bottling on that weekend.  And since we were all nicely trapped together in the house, it was fun to have something we could all do together.

 

In the end, we blended our homemade merlot with a little cabernet sauvignon we had in the house, officially christened our new family winery the “Little Chickens Winery” even though we were short one little chicken, and called our new wine the “Blizzard Blend” in honor of the “Snowmaggedon.”

 

I don’t think we would have won any awards with our “Blizzard Blend” but it was drinkable.

There are still a couple of bottles in circulation, (like the one pictured above) but I think I would rather just look at it than drink it after eleven years.

 

Since we haven’t had much snow around here the last couple of years, any call for snow gets the “Snowmaggedon” treatment by the media. It’s been a nice little snow event, with not much stress, and required just a little shoveling.  Kim and I went for a 4.5-mile walk down along the trails and it was really pretty to walk through.

 

And for just a brief moment this morning as I reflected on the snow and the memory of bottling our wine that snowy February weekend in 2010, I even missed having our roommates just a little.

 

For just a very brief moment.

And just a little.

 

A Void

A Void

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I hadn’t planned on writing anything today.

In fact, I was hoping to avoid it.

Of course the first thing that pops up in the morning, not that I needed it, was the reminder from Facebook.

Then the nice back and forth texts from the siblings “Thinking of all of you today” and the phone calls, “how are you doing today?”

 

Kim still describes her grief after Donny as like having a bowling ball shot through the chest.

There’s  a hole there now, a big one.

The size of bowling ball.

A void.

 

But life doesn’t stop does it?

And that may seem cruel sometimes.

There is no  “Hey, wait a minute, I’m grieving here!  Before you just move on and forget, let’s think about how I am feeling!”

Nah, there’s none of that.

Because life needs to go on, right?

There are others that need to experience their sadness, and maybe I need to experience more.

There are others that need to experience their joys, and maybe I need to realize some of my joys too.

But life doesn’t wait for us to say “okay, I’m ready now, you can proceed, let’s get on with it, I got this.”

 

So I guess the reality is, as much as I might try to…

I can’t avoid the void.

 

But in my sadness and still disbelief, and in spite of the void, I can’t forget what is really important.  I can’t forget all those happy times, the words of encouragement, the support, and maybe most important thing, his example.

I can’t complain, nope I can’t dwell on the negative.

Because as I have said before,  he wouldn’t want that.

 

 

So Happy Birthday to my “Cancer Brother.”

Happy Birthday, Carl.

And like your shirt says, you were very brave.

Brave and so, so much more.

And that is why today, instead of trying to avoid it, I need to celebrate.

So, you would be very proud to know, that for us to celebrate,  I spent more than five bucks on the bottle of wine I plan to open later.

And, I may even drink mine out of a jelly glass.

 

Postscript:

Void, a noun*

  • An opening, a gap, and empty space
  • A feeling of want or hollowness
  • The quality of being without something

 

Or maybe…someone.

 

*Merriam-Webster.com

Tohubohu

Tohubohu

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The whole point of protesting is to make ppl uncomfortable.

Activists take that discomfort w/ the status quo & advocate for concrete policy changes.  Popular support often starts small & grows.

To folks who complain protest demands make others uncomfortable …that is the point.

(Tweeted December 2, 2020)

 

 

I have decided it’s time.

I am coming out.

I am old enough to face the reality.

And besides, Kim’s okay with it.

I am not sure my kids will approve but they will have to live with it.

It’s time.

 

My word of the day emailed to me today was tohubohu.

(pronounced toh-hoo-BOH-hoo)

A noun of Hebrew origin that means a state of chaos, utter confusion.

 

In 1967 Abbie Hoffman along with Jerry Rubin and a few others established the Youth International Party. Its members were referred to as Yippies, not to be confused with Hippies, who were often leveraged for the cause. Hoffman and Rubin and others assisted with the organization and implementation of the 1967 anti-Vietnam War protest that breached the Pentagon and resulted in many injuries and arrests.  Their organized activities at the 1968 Democratic Convention in Chicago resulted in violent protests with many injured and arrested.  Their trial that resulted became infamous as the Chicago Eight.

As I became a teenager I identified more with the liberal causes of the day.  At the time I was reading Eldridge Cleaver’s Soul on Ice and Jerry Rubin’s DO IT: Scenarios of the Revolution.   In 1971 Abbie Hoffman released his book titled Steal This Book, which was basically a “how to” instruction guide on fighting the establishment, living freely off of society, and surviving on the street.  It even gave explicit instructions on how to organize protests and make Molotov Cocktails and pipe bombs.

I turned 15 in 1971.

Not surprising, however, the extent of my radicalization was brief because when it came right down to it, for me just having fun, girls, the beach, and music seemed so much more important than “the Revolution.”

I remember around this time, I think it was the May Day protest against the Vietnam War in May of 1971,  one of our friends came over to our house to get my brother Carl to begin their trip to Washington, D.C. to participate in the protest. The only problem was my mother got wind of what was going on and literally chased the kid out of our yard and partway down the street yelling at him all the way, calling him a communist, and basically telling him he was not going to involve her son in any communist activities.

I thought the sight of that was funny then, and maybe more funny now as I think back.

But I guess it just reinforced the fact that having fun, girls, the beach, and music was a way more productive way to spend my teenage years.  And besides, my mother was not having any communists at the dinner table.

According to the Washington Post the May Day: Demonstrators — hailing from a wide variety of social justice causes — armed themselves with anything they could find: trash, tree limbs, bottles, bricks, tires. They used the materials to form barricades across heavily trafficked sites in the District, stared into the faces of waiting police officers and prepared for a day of conflict

Seven thousand people were arrested that day, the largest mass arrest in US history.

The Weather Underground Organization (WUO), commonly known as the Weather Underground, or the Weathermen was a radical left militant organization active in the late 1960s and 1970s. The WUO organized in 1969 as a faction of Students for a Democratic Society.  In the 1970s the WUO conducted a bombing campaign that included the Capitol, the Pentagon, and the US State Department building.

I guess my point is as we ended 2020 and begin 2021, both as a tohubohu, what we witnessed last summer and last week were no doubt organized and perpetrated by homegrown terror organizations just like it has been for the last fifty or so years.  And sure, some regular folk got caught up in the moment and as a result, are guilty as charged but that is what these organizers target and expect.

And I agree, some, probably some of those regular folk, were motivated by the words of our leaders on the ground as well.

I am certainly not condoning or excusing, but our government buildings have been attacked and breached before, this is not unprecedented.

They stole the book.

I expect it will be attempted again, because like the tweet above says about protest, making people uncomfortable is the point.

But sadly, violence is too often the result.

 

Okay, it’s time.

It’s time for me to say it.

It’s time for me to admit that I have changed over the years.

It’s time for me to admit, that…

I…

Am a Republican.

A conservative Republican.

There I said it.

It’s out in the open now.

I don’t have to hide it.

 

And just for clarification…

I am not a racist.

I am not deplorable (at least I don’t think so, somebody correct me on that one if necessary).

I believe in the First Amendment and that it is for everyone.

I am a practicing Christian and believe in the right to worship whatever your faith.

I believe in the right for citizens to possess firearms.

I don’t believe in abortion, and I don’t understand how anyone who has held their infant child or grandchild can muster a good argument to defend it.

Yup, that’s it, I am a Republican.

 

So, I’m out.

 

Recently I was in an area of the church that I work in, an area that in normal times is occupied by the pre-school we have at the church, Kids Under Construction.  That part of the church is literally frozen in time with the handmade calendars on the wall with St. Patrick’s Day themes for the month of March, 2020,  the last time I saw kids in the church.  On a shelf on the wall, in between two 3-year-old classrooms, were these signs.  Signs for the kids that were pre-pandemic but so appropriate for our current situation:

And then above the two signs, there were these taped to the cinder block wall.

“In this classroom.”

“We create.”

“We celebrate each other’s success.”

“We are a team.”

“We respect each other.”

“We try our best.”

“We learn from our mistakes.”

I think if three-year-olds can learn that, I’ll bet those of us over the age of three can learn that too.

I’m in….

 

Postscript:

The tweet above was one tweeted by @AOC on December 2, 2020.

The photo above is of my communist hating mother and me, taken on Saturday, January 9th (which by the way would have been Donny’s 34th birthday) as we (my mother, my father, and me) quietly celebrated her 87th birthday!  Her actual birthday was yesterday.

And trust me, she will still chase you down the street.