Of course I was asleep by the time the rain started. But I got to steal a moment from the other end at 1:00 a.m. A few diehard people were still shooting fireworks at that hour. Even though my jaw was still sore from the pry bar on Wednesday, I stood out on the landing and watched the lightning continuously light up the sky. By 2:00 a.m. the thunder rolled in with another crescendo of rain and gave me canopy lighting, as if the sky were a strobe light. The temperature dropped to 69° as the cool air hit me.
A part of me is still flying in the May afternoon, the sun declining and making me a human prism. No cape required.
What I wanted most from the experience of jumping was to know what it would feel like leaning out knowing I had to surrender and spiral out.
But what it has done over time is paradoxically make things more colorful while simultaneously making other things banal.
I’m trying to decide between bull riding and telling my manager he’s got a bad haircut. Both seem equally dangerous.
Someone quipped to me that once you see the Grand Canyon you can’t look at a simple yet elegant river without comparing it.
Many of our comparisons are subconscious. If you’ve ever experienced acceptance at its most basic level, it’s hard to deal with quibblers. If you’ve experienced unconditional love, anything less than surrendering to it feels like a violation. If you’ve learned something that challenges your core beliefs, it’s hard to believe that you aren’t wrong about a lot of other things, too.
I’m still flying and I’m not certain it’s to my benefit.
It incrementally brought back that feeling of detachment that was such a joy almost 20 years ago. Detachment allows you to have deep singular experiences, but it also paradoxically separates you from the turmoil.
It’s ego that tells me that it’s wrong to say, “People who jump out of airplanes don’t quibble over trivial.” Equally true is that once you lose a piece of your identity because of loss or recognition of how alone you can be when you don’t take care to dive into to mess of life, it’s hard to dial back in.
Someone also told me it’s not wrong to lean in and feel like I did something special, even if thousands do it each year. It’s on people’s bucket lists for a reason. Even if all I did was lean out and let go, allowing gravity to do the rest.
How many of us live life on autopilot anyway? Waiting for whatever happens to happen.
This is especially true for AT&T customers, but it is great advice for everyone.
The AT&T leak was pernicious because all your information, including your social security number, address, phone number, etc might have been exposed.
We often don’t know it happened with other breaches – or we find out much later.
While your password might not have been exposed, the people using this information are doing stacking. They wait and then peek into an account to see if they get access. Usually, it’s long enough after the fact that you will only notice if you have two-factor authentication turned on for everything important. They cross-reference information across multiple accounts, usually because people reuse passwords and don’t update them appropriately. Those engaging in this target the easiest sites and behaviors.
People forget that while using their phones and shopping on sites the risk of someone intercepting their information increases. The risk increases drastically if you’re constantly linked to WiFi instead of your cellphone signal. Advertisers and tracking cookies are a pain in the ass, but most of the issues with information being stolen are more a matter of you giving it to them under the incorrect assumption of safety. Two-factor authentication is a lock to which only you have the key. But locks are only as good as the skill level and persistence of the people trying to break in. Regardless of your phone or account security, anyone sufficiently motivated can gain access.
The other cardinal rule is that if you store anything online or on your phone, you should assume that someone gets it no matter how diligently you protect it. Most of our personal information is already easily obtained.
It’s also a given that you should be checking your credit reports for free at least once a year. Even better if you are using a monitoring service.
As careful as I am, doing so has helped me avoid a few potentially massive headaches.
Don’t answer your phone if it seems to be your bank, credit card company, or retailer. Don’t click on a link in a text or email. Always initiate a reply by calling or emailing the bank directly.
The scams are getting exponentially better.
PS If you have your friends list visible on Facebook, you have the answer as to why your account is being cloned constantly. We are lucky that people with bad intentions pick the easier targets, just as people who steal cars or the contents therein usually walk around pulling door handles. It’s extremely hard to gain access to someone’s Facebook account unless they fail to use two-factor authentication, which is the equivalent of leaving your door unlocked.
Logan smiled as he poured a small drink for Joan. He placed it on the bench to his left as he poured one for himself.
“This isn’t what I imagined when you invited me to an intimate dinner at a nice place,” Joan said, teasing him.
Logan waved in the direction of the creek below. “This? Best reservation in town. You’ll see.”
The bench sat atop a small rise, looking down toward a gurgling creek. Trees canopied on both sides of the water. The sun was behind the trees and declining in the sky. An occasional bright beam of sun reached them through the mass of trees. The air smelled of honeysuckle and water.
From the insulated backpack at his feet, Logan pulled a sealed container and popped it open. Inside were a dozen slices of cheese, each a slightly different color, shape, and texture.
He held it in front of Joan. She took a wedge from the container and nibbled on it.
“Yum! I didn’t know I was this hungry.” Joan laughed.
“Take a sip of the whiskey. It’ll surprise you.”
Joan held the small glass to her lips and sipped. The ice clinked on the glass as she did. Her eyes widened slightly.
“This is amazing. I don’t really like whiskey.”
Logan smiled. “Honestly? Me neither.”
They both took little bites of cheese and an occasional sip of whiskey. Each of them attempted to take furtive glances at each other without being obvious. It wasn’t working.
Logan looked at his watch.
“Someplace to be,” Joan asked, teasing him again.
“Yes, right here. Two minutes away from the spectacle, if I timed it correctly.”
Joan laughed. She realized he wasn’t joking about something about to happen. She had no idea what it might be and it was refreshing.
Joan and Logan reached for a piece of cheese simultaneously, taking the last two wedges. After finishing his piece, Logan bent down and removed another contained from the backpack. He opened it and tilted it so that Joan could see the contents.
Inside the container was a sandwich cut in half diagonally.
“I could eat the container at this point, Logan.”
“Me too,” he said and looked directly at her face. His cleverness always sat on the periphery of conversation.
Joan reached for half the sandwich and took a bite.
As she half-covered her mouth, she said, “This is good, Logan!”
“Thank you. It’s infused cream cheese, thin cucumber slices, butter lettuce, and bacon. I had a hunch you’d enjoy it.”
“I do!” She took a sip of whiskey and placed the glass back on the bench. She immediately took another bite as Logan did the same and watched her face indirectly.
Logan noticed a brighter glimmer of sunlight pass across them.
“It’s starting. Just in time.”
Joan looked up in the trees across the creek as Logan pointed. Little dancing bright lights oscillated from between two of the taller tree branches. She could almost see the object hanging below one of the branches. Within seconds, the object cast dozens of colored reflections across the branches below it.
“It’s like fireworks with light! It’s beautiful.”
“Isn’t it? It was rough calculating the angle of the sun without it being in our eyes.”
Joan hesitated. “You mean you put whatever that is up in the tree?”
Logan shrugged and laughed. “Yes. It took me five tree climbs to figure out the height and angle.”
“Seriously? That’s impressive.”
They both watched for about half a minute as the sparkles diminished.
Joan finished her sandwich and applauded softly. As she looked at Logan, he nodded his head. Joan found the gesture to be endearing.
“I wish it lasted longer, but it’s like a sunset. It’s only the first glance that lights you up inside.” Even though Logan said it casually, Joan somehow knew he was exposing an essential part of himself. She felt a tiny spark of interest light up inside her, too.
“Are you game for having dessert non-traditionally, Joan? It’s up to you.”
Without hesitation, she said, “Of course.”
“Let’s take our shoes off then, shall we?” He turned slightly away and began removing his shoes, then his socks. She did the same.
“We need to Tom Sawyer our pants, too.” Logan laughed. He suspected Joan hadn’t rolled her pants up in… maybe never.
Joan leaned over and rolled her pants up on both legs. She stood up from the bench. “I look ridiculous!” She laughed, as she turned in a pirouette.
“Anything but that, believe me,” Logan said, watching her spin as if she were twenty years younger.
Logan bent and removed another deeper container from the backpack. It rattled a little as he picked it up.
“Let’s go to the creek.”
Joan offered him her left hand and he took it in his. Neither stopped to think that it felt as natural as if they’d known each other for a decade instead of a week.
Logan led the way down, moving at an angle. Joan saw a break in the grass and little bushes along the creek’s edge. Logan stepped on a flat rock sitting slightly above the water. The creek was clear and moving faster than she’d imagined.
“It’s a little colder than you would think. It feels amazing, trust me.” He looked back to Joan, who met his eyes.
Logan stepped into the creek and on the limestone exposed under the water. Joan followed him. As the cold water covered her feet past her ankles, she said, “Wow.” She laughed and looked at him. Logan seemed a little puzzled, standing there with the dessert container. Shards of light passed across him from the sun peeking through the trees.
“Been a while since you’ve been in a creek, Joan?”
She nodded. “Yes. Why has it been so long? This is amazing!”
Logan flipped the lid over. Joan saw that there were two plastic cups inside, as well as two small spoons. Each cup held what looked like fudge. Whatever it was, if it were half as good as the cheese and sandwich, she might wrestle both of them away from him.
Joan removed one of the cups and a spoon. Logan took the other and then lightly tossed the container onto the bank. He waited for her to taste the first bite.
As the mousse touched Joan’s mouth, her eyes lit up again. “I taste chocolate and coffee and something else. It’s delicious, Logan.”
Logan took a bite of his. He was more interested in watching Joan. She didn’t hide her pleasure when eating. She seemed to be that way about everything.
“I don’t think I’m ever going to forget this feeling. Standing in a cold creek and eating the best mousse I’ve ever eaten.” Joan looked Logan directly in the eyes and winked.
“You won’t have to.” Logan laughed.
“My my. That’s confidence,” Joan said, teasing him for the tenth time.
“I will always climb a tree for you if I can.” Even though Logan smiled as he said it, Joan felt a delicious chill run across her spine.
A couple of minutes later, after standing quietly in the water and holding hands, Logan led her out of the creek. The sun now nestled barely visible behind the tree line and probably the horizon. Logan picked up the dessert container and led them back to the bench. Without discussion, they sat on the bench again. Joan moved closer to him and she felt his arm around go around her shoulders.
They both looked across the creek as the shadows grew long. They sat quietly, each thinking the thoughts that people consider when optimism pays a visit.
I enjoy the uncertainty of inconvenience stores. They are the way stations of unpredictability. This morning I stopped at the inconvenience store super early. A young girl exited a vehicle. She had a hospital ID band on and she seemed disoriented. When I walked in, I felt disoriented too. It’s normally quite dead at that hour. The clerk was on his tiptoes, pushing at the ceiling tiles with a short broom. Near the soda machine were several women all looking up and chattering. Naturally, I goosed the clerk hard in the ribs unexpectedly as he stretched. He giggled like a pigtailed girl. The other women ranging in ages from I couldn’t possibly guess to possibly 90 years old stood next to the soda fountains looking up and offering a rapid-fire litany of commentary. An unidentified insect was evading contact in the ceiling tiles and fluorescent lights. Because cicadas have made their appearance, I assumed it was a cicada. I told the clerk to assume that the insect was actually a malevolent monster waiting to attack him. I also told him I had the Seek app to identify it if he would get up there on a ladder and yank it out. He spiritedly declined my solution.
The oldest lady in the group insisted that the insect hiding above us was a dragonfly. I told them all that because I have an advanced degree in zoology that I was certain it was one of the new venomous flying spiders that always accompanied the arrival of the cicadas. Much to my surprise, I could see that everyone who heard me was convinced that I knew what I was talking about. Their initial gullible reaction proves why conspiracy theories spread so easily on social media.
The point-of-sale system was down and displaying what amounted to hieroglyphics. Luckily I had a $5 bill. I told the clerk I would give him another $5 if he would stand on my back and stick his hand in the crevice to remove the insect. He gave me a look, one that said, “Ain’t no way in hell am I sticking my hand up there.”
Another couple entered the store. They both looked like the result of what happens when you don’t have enough sense to go to bed. They too looked confused at the gaggle of people in the store staring up at the ceiling.
As I reached my car, one of the women hollered that it indeed was a huge dragonfly. I think she told me that to scoff at my advanced degree in zoology.
I didn’t see it, of course. I much to prefer to imagine that it was indeed a venomous flying spider.
I hope the reminder of the day is equally tumultuous and chaotic. It’s not like I get to vote on the matter anyway.
First, I took care of someone’s pets and they paid me in squirrel masks. I’m definitely a winner in this scenario.
B, I started to trim my beard and as I do all too often, I cut an unintended strip across my mustache and down my chin. I considered leaving it that way but ever since the cease and desist order, I have to be cautious. You can go Google it. Is this true? There’s only one way to know.
IX, I put a suit jacket on because I am feeling fancy. Not the Reba McEntire kind! (Even though inflation may bring me to that point.)
34, the confluence of accidentally scalping my face gave me an excuse to don a squirrel mask. Since I already enjoy climbing trees, it seems logical and wise for me to perhaps where this ensemble in an upcoming tree climb.
Whether you use the word weird, creative, or eccentric, it’s obvious to most people that I hit the target. It’s hard enough getting people surprises or gifts on traditional days. In my case, everyone knows that I much prefer random days for surprises. They also know that if the gift itself isn’t personal, the box, card, or the way I present it is definitely going to be. I don’t like the idea of a world without chalk, index cards, or random shenanigans. That includes sending clown noses, a custom picture of Doc Holliday, receiving a flutophone, or one of my favorite things in the world: prisms.
People forget that at one point I was decorating the envelopes I used to make my car payments. I didn’t know until much later that the car lot manager kept all of them on a wall. Assuming he’s still alive, I’m convinced he definitely remembers his unusual customer. I took the mundane necessity of making a car payment and made it a crazy memory, as well as an accidental art installation in a small car lot office.
The reason I explain all this is that sometimes I spend a great deal of effort and time making something unique. Overwhelmingly, people are delighted and truly surprised that I thought enough of them to make the attempt.
What consterns me are those times when my gifts or creations are misunderstood. It’s a lot like starting a conversation that’s difficult. You can’t control the other person’s reaction or the outcome.
Me not making or sending surprises to people isn’t in my nature. It’s like criticism when you sing or write something. You have to accept the criticism just like you do the praise or encouragement.
In a world inhabited by so many different people, it stands to reason that decorum, style, taste, and humor aren’t universal.
Some people reading this have been on the receiving end of things out of the blue. Some have received things from me anonymously. Others have been walking around Fayetteville and discovered literal eggs filled with surprises, pieces of art, or just about anything creativity might cook up.
My intention is to be me and create small moments. The fact that most people aren’t like me is truly independent of what I do or why.
I have a stack of red capes in my hall closet waiting for the right day when several of us are going to need some comedy and ridiculous adventure during an otherwise normal day. That should tell you all you need to know about me.
I think most people visit Mount Sequoyah at the wrong time of the day. At 6:00 a.m. you won’t be crowded. This morning was cool and the sun was filtered through heavy clouds. Deer wander around everywhere and are largely unconcerned by your proximity. (Unlike your boss, who is undoubtedly plotting another round of micromanagement for your own good.) Due to federal law, my age requires me to be fascinated by birds I haven’t seen. This morning up on the mountain it was Indigo Buntings, which are bluer then a 6-year-old holding his breath during a tantrum. I have a sentimental connection to the spot but more than anything, it is a singular reminder that we often don’t need to travel to distant places to see the places we inhabit differently.
Unpack all your baggage and throw it in the attic or the basement. It will still be there to greet you later but at least you will stop transporting it around as if it defines you. Take a moment and look out your window. It’s a portal to several billion people and unimaginable fascinations. So why do we choose to spiral into an ever-narrowing cocoon? We complain about traffic and yet we can only visit new places by becoming traffic. As for work, it’s almost universal that we love some aspects of it while simultaneously despising the grind and the dehumanizing part of it. The people around us become familiar and we think we’ve learned what we can from them. Maybe it’s time to put on the clown shoes or the bowtie and risk looking ridiculous. One of the secrets of life is that while people are giving us the sideeye they are also largely ignoring us, consumed by the constant barrage of obligations and appearances that keep them caged. X .
Am I the only one who sometimes realizes how absurd life is? When I awoke this morning, I had been dreaming something nostalgic but I couldn’t catch even a whisper of what the dream was. For a minute, I thought it was Friday and that work was ahead of me. I was driving around after 3:00 a.m., having gone to the inconvenience store for a soda. The clerk, who was stocking and cleaning over by the soda dispenser, told me “That one is out of flavoring.” I laughed and continued to dispense the soda because I drink carbonated water without a second thought. When I left, I turned the wrong way without thinking and just kept driving. Soon enough, I went through the stretch of construction and up the side hills of Fayetteville. One section had been redone and the street lights were both beautiful and bright, casting shimmers in the darkness. The deer crossing signs became more numerous and on the way back down I discovered why. I had to come to a complete stop because five deer were standing in the middle of the road looking at me. I waited and watched them. After a bit, they dispersed to the left side of the road and I drove on. Because I listen to a wide range of music, I switched the radio to 106.5, which I like to call Old Person’s Variety Radio. I sang along to the ridiculous song playing. It was “Summer Nights” from the Grease soundtrack. I took a moment to think about the fact that I was in fact in a summer night, albeit at 3ish in the morning. At the next intersection, I watched a vehicle come toward me as the song played. The driver was either intoxicated or driving with a bag on his or her head. They erratically passed and I continued on my way. I adore these early mornings because most of the people I encounter are closing out the day before while I’m starting mine. I stopped on top of one of the hills and exited my car. I took a moment to look across the city and see Old Main shining in the distance. The early morning robins were singing loudly. Although nothing happened, it felt like something was about to. It was just a beautiful untimed moment. With a few exceptions, it’s all mine in these early mornings. There’s a fine line between enlightenment and lunacy. Summer nights.
P.S. Parenthetically Speaking 