A Delicate Post and Request

This is a delicate post, one written with the intention of reminding people that there are subtleties to traditions that others might not consider.

When we lose someone, we lose a part of ourselves. Most of us foolishly think we’re prepared. We’re not, of course. It’s a visceral punch that permeates our bodies and takes occupancy of our minds.

Those around us feel the same loss in a different, diffused way depending on their connection. I don’t need words unless that’s what you have to offer. I’d prefer a silent hug just to acknowledge that you care. Even carefully spoken words, ones drowning in heartfelt emotion, can evoke an unintended meaning. I’ve been guilty of it, even when it was the last thing on my mind. When someone loses a loved one, their filter is either wide open or often warped. Words and actions can take on meanings that no one intended. Even gentle, loved-filled words.

One of the traditions of the past is that friends and loved ones send flowers. They add beauty and are a physical manifestation of the fact that their thoughts are with us.

For some, such plants and flowers can be a burden. Each of them requires attention, effort, and longevity. Because they are hallmarks of a loved one’s passing, it’s difficult to disregard their care. When you do make the choice to send flowers, please understand that not everyone is equipped to give these plants the care and honor that is intended. Those left behind are already dealing with grief and likely a long list of to-dos involving the logistics of someone passing.

Speaking from my point of view, I love nothing more than to hear stories and see pictures of whoever passed. If you have pictures of someone I loved who died, please share them. If you have stories, tell them. It allows us to see our person in a different light and through different eyes.

All of us have organizations that we support. Whether it’s organ donation, animal care, homeless causes, or cancer treatment, the money spent on flowers could do tremendous good out there in the world. This in no way negates the love or thought that sending flowers might. For me, I’d rather you share pictures, hugs, and stories and spend the money on something meaningful. If sending flowers is a sign of adoration and respect, then certainly sharing pieces of someone’s life is equally, if not more, an indicator. And, because it’s me, if you want to show love and caring, give the money to an organization (or even a person or family) who could benefit.

I apologize to the floral industry for my viewpoint. Sending flowers is a tradition cemented in the past. I’m not speaking for everyone! But I do know a couple of people I love who were burdened by the reception and care of flowers after they lost someone. If someone requests donations in lieu of flowers, please understand that they are expressing their wishes. Don’t hesitate to send flowers if that’s what is in your heart. But also don’t hesitate to do something different if you know the person would rather you do, especially if those flowers require time and care that the grieving person might not have.

As for everyone else, if you don’t have a will, a living trust, and a way for those left behind to take care of you and your belongings upon your death, please take care of those things. Despite what we think, life surprises all of us at inopportune moments. For any of us, this could be the last day we walk the earth. Part of our responsibility as adults is ensuring that the people we leave behind don’t suffer as a result of our lack of thought and planning. Adding avoidable suffering to someone grieving isn’t a loving act.

Love, X

A Gift Passed On

Marsha, I sent you Grandpa’s shaving cup and razor for several reasons. Like so many touchstones, it’s just a cup and a razor. But it’s also personal and practical, something to connect me to a past that I romanticize with abandon. If Heaven had to be chosen from moments on this Earth, I might very well choose a summer in the early 70s with Grandma and Grandpa. Being poor wasn’t something I thought about then. It taught me that all the possessions in the world can’t replace the feeling of being loved, even if in a way that isn’t soft and fuzzy.

Bonnie trusted me with the shaving kit a few years ago. I wouldn’t have sent it to you a few years ago. You weren’t ready. And I know my saying so won’t hurt your feelings or open old wounds. I didn’t send it to you because it holds no value for me. As one of the last remaining sentimental things I own, the opposite is true. Everything is temporary, even the people and things we cherish. I don’t love the cup less than I once did. But I also don’t want to hoard and clutch something closely that might touch you in the same way it did me.

Each time I picked up, it was easier for me to flash back 50 years and almost smell Grandpa’s aftershave. He was a simple man, at least by the time I came around. Nostalgia sometimes cripples me when I get into memory mode, trying to recapture details or moments. But even if I don’t get the details right, nothing can rob me of the feeling I had when I was around him. Whether we were watching Kung Fu on the little black and white tv, sitting on the porch swing daring the yellow jackets to approach, or while I was splayed out on the floor with my play pretties while he watched baseball…I didn’t appreciate until I was much older that while Grandpa was no hugger, he gave me more affection than my parents did for the first part of my life. He didn’t raise his voice to me, nor his hands. If I needed to learn that a razor blade was sharp, he’d gruffly tell me to be careful – but didn’t tell me not to touch it. He let me swing an ax that was beyond my capability, bought me nails to drive needlessly into everything in sight, and handed me a sliver of his cannonball chewing tobacco, letting me decide whether I liked it. He poured me coffee when I was four, let me stand beside him when the tornado weather approached and told me to stand still so that we could watch for an unseen animal in the cotton fields. He taught me that four-legged animals were rarely as dangerous as those of us walking around on two. He tried to tell me stories of the war, of riding the trains like a hobo, and many others; Grandma would shout at him to stop. I remember hardly any of those stories, but I can still feel the Monroe County sun on our legs and smell the creosote of the porch steps baking.

I am hoping the feeble power of words that I possess can give you a glimpse of how much it meant for me for Bonnie to send me Grandpa’s shaving kit. The cup is a mercurial, mystical object. It looks like an ordinary thing. But that’s the magic of memory, love, and longing. We imprint onto things that remind of us of the people we loved and who loved us.

May it serve you well or in moments where you get distracted by life’s events that aren’t really important. Or when you feel yourself tempted by old habits. Grandpa was afflicted with many of the same torments that made your life difficult. But he ended up toward the end of his life living a simple, uncomplicated life devoid of the temptations that discolored his adult life. That’s something to be appreciated. If you end up with nothing, yet have a life with even a single person who loves you, it’s a good life.

Love, X

Signs?

I’m not one for signs. But coincidences draw my scrutiny. The other day when I was talking about Jimmy with Erika, she said she did not remember the song “Whiskey In The Jar” by Metallica. It’s not a typical Metallica song. But I love everything about it. Several people reached out to me with stories about Jimmy. This morning when I needed it, I scanned stations to get away from the talk shows. The radio station The X came up. And guess what was playing? Whiskey In The Jar. As I cranked the volume, it certainly felt like the universe was talking to me.

Love X

“You Light Up My Life” A Jimmy Story

You Light Up My Life

I wanted to share one of the stories with Brianna about her dad Jimmy.

Jimmy was spoiled beyond belief. As an older cousin, I benefited immeasurably from this. He had all the toys, games, and add-ons that can make a childhood full of play. Because my immediate family was so poor, I’d never get the chance to experience those things if it weren’t for Jimmy and my Aunt Ardith and Uncle Buck. But I’m not exaggerating when I tell stories about Jimmy’s legendary spoiledness.

Uncle Buck was an accomplished musician. He had the chance to ‘be’ someone in the music field but chose to do it as a side gig and hobby instead of pursuing it. He gave Jimmy record players and an endless supply of 45s and LPs. Some of these I remember well because Jimmy played them until you couldn’t help but to have the songs burned into your ears. Stories like the one I’m recounting take on an unlikely meaning when you consider that Jimmy dived deeply into Pantera and his beloved group Metallica as soon hair began to grow on his face. Rock and heavy metal gave him a voice like nothing else had before. The year Jethro Tull won the grammy over Metallica, I wondered if Jimmy might go off the deep end permanently. “Effing Jethro Tull!” he said at least two million times in the next month. “Bands with flutes are NOT rock music!”

Whether it was “Devil Goes Down to Georgia” or other songs, none of my memories eclipse 1977’s “You Light Up My Life” by Debby Boone. Jimmy was about seven when the song premiered. He thought the song was the best he’d ever heard – and that Debby Boone was an angel. For those who don’t know, this song was EVERYWHERE and #1 for ten weeks. Jimmy played that record so many times that I wondered if it would ever fade into the background. Jimmy had the song memorized in five plays. He played it twelve million more times just to be certain. When Jethro Tull won the Grammy years later, I reminded him that “You Light Up My Life” had a flute in it. He got pissed off, but then in typical Jimmy fashion, he laughed. “You’re right! Damn it, you’re right!” He added the phrase, “Damn flutes!” to his repertoire of mumblings for a while.

When I hear “You Light Up My Life,” which is a rare thing now, I can’t explain how odd it is to think of Jimmy, Metallica, and Jethro Tull in the same thought. Jimmy’s been gone now for slightly less than ten years. 1977 is forty-six years ago.

So, Brianna, if you want a moment to connect with Jimmy, take a minute and look up “You Light Up My Life” and think of Jimmy standing in his living room with the song playing. He’d sway and badly sing the lyrics over and over. He was happy in those moments. Later, Metallica supplanted Debby Boone. Every once in a while through the years, I’d tease him and say, “Well, they are no Debby Boone, Jimmy!”

As for Jimmy, I hope those damn flutes are playing somewhere. With Metallica’s drums and shredded guitars accompanying them.

Jimmy’s hairstyles followed those of Metallica. The picture looked nothing like him for the last half of his life. But it’s tucked away in my collection to remind me.

I hope this story connects you to Jimmy.

Love, X

Somewhere

If you think about the fact that somewhere right now, there’s someone who is starving for what you can give, it can be both unnerving and comforting. Finding that person in the haystack is the obstacle. As difficult as it is, I know the only way to find that person is to wear your heart and thoughts on your sleeve. But that’s not what we do. We play it safe right down the middle, mostly believing that’s the best way. At that point, many of us are stuck in that role. As contradictory as it sounds, you do have to come across authentically. It’s that position of trust in yourself and in others that helps you find what you’re looking for and need.

Love, X

Communication

It’s true in business, and it’s true in relationships. Fundamentally, it would be better in both realms if people could express themselves without the messenger getting shot. To be able to present information, opinions, or even feelings based on their perspective or expertise. In business, you’re paying people for both output and experience. In relationships, you’re mutually and reciprocally invested in helping one another. We’re not mind readers. I find across the board that our reluctant response to heed this advice is one of our biggest grievances as human beings. As the level of inability to communicate openly decreases, the volatility and dissatisfaction we experience both as employees and people slowly boils us. In any connection in which communication is not welcome, unexpected and undesirable results inevitably follow.

Love, X

Karma

Karma is not real. Any close observer to the universe and human behavior can see that. It’s probably a good thing for all of us. On the other hand, it would be an ideal world in which we suffered the consequences and paid the price immediately for wrong choices. It would make us be deliberate and probably much more caring about how our words and actions affect other people. Equally true is that it would be a beautiful world if we all communicated honestly, even if such honesty were difficult to get used to. Imagine how much time and energy it would save us. It would push people to learn healthy behaviors instead of learning how to conceal who they really are or what’s going on in their heads. Sunlight never hurt anyone and it’s the basis for all life on Earth. A feeble metaphor on my part, but one I imagine many people will be nodding in agreement with.

Love, X

A Goodbye To Some At Work

My employer offered people with seniority a generous retirement package. And so, as of Wednesday, a lot of familiar faces will vanish.

Someone once said that God only knows everything because he’s been around forever. It’s the same way with some of these people. They make their jobs look effortless at times because they are so familiar with every possible wild contingency. And somehow, they’ve avoided slowly going crazy by the way the rest of us behave.

Every time someone with longevity leaves, I’m surprised by my reaction. That’s how I know that behind their eyes, they will miss their coworkers. Some of them as friends, and some of them as familiar faces.

They will leave holes. Some of it will be work-related and the rest… well, it will be a loss of banter, laughter, and yes, sometimes, disagreement.

I hope everyone lands softly as they start whatever they choose to be their next chapter.

Love, X
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A Truth

I’ve never been one to worry much about how I look.

At 55 years and 11 months, I honestly don’t care if I have to strip down naked at the Farmer’s Market. I don’t know why that would happen, but I’m ready either way.

If something bothers me, I will fix it. And if I can’t, like my hair, I embrace it and laugh. You can mock me for short hair or no hair all you’d like. It doesn’t offend me. It’s like holding me responsible for the blue jay screeching outside your window on a Sunday morning.

I can look anyone in the eyes and feel like they’re equal. I’m not fooled and not plagued by insecurity.

All the titles, ranks, and positions are illusions. We’re human beings, even if we’ve devised an artificial method to separate and distinguish ourselves.

I know what you’re thinking during the day and when you lay down at night. And sometimes you want to curl up and read a book or binge-watch terrible tv. Or you are irritated at your person but just want someone to put their arm around you and enjoy the comfort of someone beside you. Trips to exotic places are fantastic, but life is comprised of smaller pleasures like the first cup of coffee, laughing, or watching people fall off ladders in online videos.

And all of us, no matter what we’ve done or the accomplishments we’ve achieved, pay the same price.

I would have been dangerous with this knowledge at 20.

Unstoppable.

If you’re reading this and you’re young, listen to me, please.

You are as good as anybody you’ll meet. If you put your mind to it, you can run a mile in 4 minutes. You can learn another language, or you can master calculus. You can find someone to love, have a family, or bury yourself in a career.

But you’re going to have to choose your time wisely. It’s not unlimited.

But whatever you want to achieve, whether it’s money, education, or fame, you are as likely as anyone you’ll meet to achieve it if you want it and dedicate your time and energy towards it. You’re looking at many people thinking that they possess some alchemy, intelligence, or energy that you don’t. They don’t.

It’s 100% illusion.

I don’t look at young people the way most people my age do.

I remember what it was like to be scared. And to feel the pressure of my entire life in front of me. I had the disadvantage of trauma and ignorance to overcome.

Maybe to feel like I wasn’t handsome enough or smart enough. The secret is that most of us are average in the literal sense. Embrace it. Joy is when someone finds something that they excel in. It just takes one thing to feel fulfilled.

If you want love, there’s someone looking at you right now with hungry eyes. Yes, there’s also someone looking at you, thinking, “Lord, what a doofus!” You can be happy in a world in which there are both.

If you want to be educated, witty, athletic, or a hermit, you can do that too. Whether you’re 22 or 55. None of us know where our finish line sits.

Love, X
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